I’ll do my best to formulate it in simpler words: when you look at an art object, you have a vague intuition that what you are perceiving is beautiful, but your intuition of what beautiful looks like is based on some pre-established notions you yourself aren’t aware of. These pre-establishments aren’t notions in themselves, but something that makes sense to the average viewer. In this way, Kant argues that something is beautiful when it gives the viewer the impression that what he/she is observing has a teleological meaning, which is to say it makes sense in the grander scheme of things, even though the artist himself/herself might not have meant it to have any meaning at all. Confusing? Let’s go even deeper.
Those who know me are aware of the fact that I’m a fan of GoT. Those who know me best are probably concerned at the extent of my obsession for both the books and their adaptation. These being said, one can only imagine the expectations I had for the end of a journey I embarked on in my early teenage years, a journey that kept me going through my most troublesome times and never failed to be the best form of escapism to the intricately dark world of Thrones. And now, having finished the long-awaited season 8 I feel… numb.
DISCLAIMER: BIG JUICY SPOILERS AHEAD.
It goes a little something like this: a smart comedy absorbed a bunch of cheap gags and delivered a message without being condescending.
Personally, I think her fluent, unapologetic line is the pinnacle of storytelling. It’s the equivalent of told stories in the same way that the narrator doesn’t stop at every minute detail, but rather focuses on the flux and cadence which carry the tale from point A to point B. It’s raw because it is supposed to be raw. Her art is, nonetheless, eye-candy in the expert way she correlates vibrant colours to composition and it doesn’t take a connoisseur to see this.
So, who are Femme Fatale Gals? It seemed as if the 3 girls on stage,
Khaya Job, Lila Yakimova and Tuk Jay, were really confident in people knowing exactly why they were there. Personally, I wish they had introduced themselves better. Or at all, in this instance. To shed some light: Femme Fatale Gals is a feminist zine and online platform: all about acceptance and empowerment. I’m going to quote Khaya here:
“So the definition for Femme Fatale is <> I first heard it when I listened to The Velvet Underground song named after it and fell in LOVE 💘 I see the definition differently. A fatal female. Someone who is unstoppable. Someone who you don’t mess with. A boss lady who knows exactly what she wants and goes after it. Someone who grabs life by the balls and isn’t afraid to be who they are. That’s what Femme Fatale means for me. I feel most empowered when I’m wearing sexy clothes, when I create, when I see other women living their best lives, when I can speak my mind eloquently… when do you feel most empowered?”
3 months and some traumatising Freshers’ shananigans later, and reality hit me like a train. And, besides all the “I miss home” s and “coffee is LIFE”s (I’m talking real addiction, the one that comes in the Poundland instant coffee packaging, not the fussy Flat White I used to have with my friends in high school while pretending to revise), here are the things I wish I’d known before Uni started.
Watching it, I was taken aback by the complexity of the characters (even though they were, essentially, stereotypical of a specific trait e.g.: the deviant, the popular kid, the outcast, etc.) and how I, as a viewer, could trace back all their current issues to their childhood traumas. The show, however, is very subtle in exposing all these details about the main cast and, in the end, it leaves it to the viewer to get the knack of profiling every character, rather than blatantly explaining everything. I always love it when the writers “show don’t tell”, which, for me, is a denominator for good screenwriting.
The story soon becomes clear: the protagonist, Joe Goldberg (the raspy voice dude who works in the bookstore), is a class-A freak who develops an obsession on Beck, the (what I believe to be) deliberately bland Literature student with manic pixie dream girl tendencies. He would stop at nothing to make her fall in love with him, aided by his handy friend — the internet — in a meta-commentary of how vain our generation is and how easily accessible we unknowingly make ourselves through social media and other online platforms.
3 hours in and I was in tears, doubting all my thought patterns and realising that eating 2 apples a day wasn’t a healthy lifestyle, that snacking on a single carrot while staring at others’ sandwiches and Snickers bars in lunch breaks wasn’t a healthy lifestyle, that making my “cheat day” (always the same chocolate cake from Dominos’) the centre of my universe wasn’t a healthy lifestyle, that late night binges followed by days of purging was not a healthy lifestyle.
What strikes me upon entering the 1st Gallery Space of Nottingham Contemporary are the banners – imposing and somber, carrying…