I’ve always been interested in people, but I’ve never liked them.

other-wordly:

pronunciation | (jahn-eh-mahn)
submitted by | serenfoursk
script | जानेमन Hindi, جان ِ من Urdu

hyrenee:

therotund:

lavishness:

therotund:

drst:

alithea:

julounge:

Abandoned Velma by ~nebriniel

i saw this earlier and LOVED IT but then the person posted the artist’s motivation/inspiration and it filled me with such intense rage.

from their diviantart, emphasis mine:

I’ve seen numerous fanarts of Velma, depicting her as some über curvy and sexy and geeky fantasy material… and for some reason, I wanted to draw the opposite - a tubby Velma, an out of shape Velma, a having-finished-with-the-mystery-squad-letting-herself-go Velma… I mean, that happens, right? People get done with what they think are their glory days and kind of just… exist instead of living.

So here we have Velma that’s been stood up on a date. I picture this being her first date with that particular guy, but not the first time she’s been abandoned like that.

Instead of distress, I wanted to show her as being used to this sort of thing by now - she’s gotten into a habit of bringing a book along with her, even. I would say she never held out much hope for succeeding with the date tonight, but, nevertheless, tried to make herself look nice. She’s not grieving much, as her outlook on the whole situation is rather removed and philosophical after so many failures.

I wonder why she keeps trying?

when i saw this, i was like “oh man! this is awesome! look at velma looking a-may-zing in that great dress, drinking a glass of wine, reading a book. looks like paradise!”

but the artist made this thinking “velma lets her self go, gets fat, and then gets stood up on dates. and she is so used to being treated like garbage, that she just assumes it will happen, and brings a book” because that’s totally what happens, right? you get fat and nobody wants to hang out with you or date you or be seen with you??

this artist is a fucking dumb-ass.

“I’ve seen numerous fanarts of Velma, depicting her as some über curvy and sexy and geeky fantasy material… and for some reason, I wanted to draw the opposite.” well BUMMER DUDE because that is actually exactly what you did.

What an asshole (the artist, not the commenters). She looks fabulous.

I wonder if the artist has any idea what they’ve created here - which is actually a pretty apt commentary in that, hey, here’s this woman who a lot of people think is totally awesome, who is completely attractive, who seems pretty self-sufficient and has had a lot of interesting things going on in her life - but, oh, man, she’s “used to” being stood up so she just takes it like it’s her due and doesn’t ever question why it’s supposed to be her fault. This artist has created a portrait of so many fat people that I know who are AWESOME and who genuinely believe that there is something wrong with them morally and socially because they’ve been told time and again that being fat is some kind of mortal sin.

And, yeah, we get all up in arms about “confidence is sexy” because, hey, it’s a fucking cliche. But there really are self-fulfilling prophecies; we learn not to see people flirt with us because we don’t believe anyone could possibly flirt with us. We hate our own bodies because, hey, we’re supposed to, right?

And meanwhile, to some objective observer, this fat woman in this picture is just hanging out, looking fly, reading a book and drinking some wine. 

One of the most effective tools of oppression is to make the oppressed believe it is their fault, that they deserve it. And fat people are really fucking good at hating ourselves. 

tl;dr: love the picture, think the artist is probs a fat-hating douche who has helped perpetuate the loathing so many fat people feel for themselves. Good times.

Bolding in the above commentary is mine, because a) that is probably true most of the time, which makes my heart hurt (for how much self-hate I still have sometimes) and b) except when she’s being viewed by the person who drew this picture, who clearly sees fat girls drinking wine and reading and can only think “she’s clearly been stood up again, poor fat slob” which makes my heart hurt more because maybe she’s just had a bad day and wants a glass of wine and some goddamned peace and quiet.

Fat politics is hard, you guys.

Love this additional commentary.

And but so maybe she also just likes going out and having a glass of wine and reading a book. The things that people read into strangers without any knowledge of that person whatsoever are sometimes astonishing. And the way that lots of people look at fatties and see sad folks no matter what the fat person is actually doing really IS something that kills me.

When I first saw this painting on deviantart I thought it was brilliant - it just clicks visually. I read the description and understood. When I saw this on here I was happy to see it again, but as I read the comments it made me so mad, so detached from the whole experience of just simply enjoying a piece of beautiful art. I’ll say now that none of us has any idea of the artist’s mindset and to me it seems pretty rude to assume that they are a ‘fat-hating douchebag’. Yes, I understand that the artist implied that being overweight was a reason for being stood up, but I’m sorry to tell you guys but the world isn’t as Tumblr-esque as you may like.  

Yet even here, even a place that I know is kind and accepting and generous and wonderful, has caused me a great deal of personal and social confusion. Never before using this site was I aware that a ‘thigh gap’ was important yet I constantly see people complaining about it all the goddamn time. Being the anti-social dork that I am, I observe a lot more (spectator sees more of the sport, and all that jazz) and to take offense at this image seems ridiculous. 

Now can we look at this for a moment, please:

“a tubby Velma, an out of shape Velma, a having-finished-with-the-mystery-squad-letting-herself-go Velma… I mean, that happens, right? People get done with what they think are their glory days and kind of just… exist instead of living.”

It occurs to me that she may feel depressed or detached because of her no longer being a part of the group that did awesome things like solve mysteries and travel a lot. Being stood up on dates doesn’t even compare to the now dull daily routines she has to live with. She may not take dating as seriously as some of you do, she may not believe in love as passionately as you do. She may not be as obsessed with sexual expression as a lot of us here are. She obviously gets asked out, if she’s been through this a few times and who’s to say that some times she doesn’t get stood up - the guy turns up, they have a nice time but it turns out that they don’t click or he’s married or she just doesn’t like him for whatever reason. And who’s to say she wasn’t in a relationship that ended, for reasons that had nothing to do with her weight.

This painting is a picture of the present, a specific, singular moment in time and the horrible detail being extrapolated from it is appalling. The description of the painting is simply the context in which the artist painted  it. We all get ideas, some we don’t completely understand, others we feel the urge to visualize at any cost. The ambiance here doesn’t yell out ‘sad’ or ‘i hate myself’. To me it says comfortable. Indifference. 

The ‘I wonder why she keeps trying’ part seems to get all of your knickers in a twist. I’ll say this (which is not an assumption of the artists intent, but my personal inclination towards the subject) - the description made a point:

“People get done with what they think are their glory days and kind of just… exist instead of living.”

Like I said before, isn’t that indicative of someone who misses their previous life? Maybe she keeps trying because she misses adventure - she misses going out and exploring. And maybe she picks the wrong guys to date, the kind of guys who will stand her up because deep down she doesn’t crave romantic excitement, she wants her old excitement back. In my opinion this painting is not about the artist taking a well known character and using her to criticize out of shape, fat, or tubby people - it’s the portrayal of someone who misses the good old days and the dullness of normal life in comparison.

She is a gorgeous and intelligent woman. It is only the comments on this post that bring attention to the fact that weight may be the resounding issue. Firstly, the artist SAID they did not want to create an overly sexualised, unrealistic portrayal of Velma and quite right too, because I think to most of us that would be making her a sex object and detract from her other awesome traits and all that feminist stuff. People just can’t be pleased anymore. Even this portrayal of Velma has you all up in arms and you insist on extrapolating the negative.

If any of you disagree with what I have just said, feel free to message me. It seems I am stepping on a lot of peoples toes so if you no longer wish to follow me then go ahead. But if people here feel the need to be personally offended, then I think the artist should be defended. I thought Tumblr was a safe haven. The place on the internet where you could be accepted for whatever feelings you had or preferences you had or material you put out there. Of course there are the obvious exceptions like, being a Nazi or murdering children. When put in perspective to those things I am baffled by what people have said about this painting. I am ashamed and sorry for you.

Love yourself. 

I agree with hyrenee (aka Mawnie)

(via hyrenee)

(via landofhand)

blackspit:

Solid Moment by Olli Kekäläinen

(via journalofanobody)

poboh:

River Landscape, evening, Frits Thaulow. Norwegin Impressionist Painter (1847 - 1906)

(via journalofanobody)

I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while.

midnightmartinis:

point me at the sky - by vuk adzic

(via journalofanobody)

All of Them Are Burning ›

apoetreflects:

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”

—Kurt Vonnegut, from Mother Night (Fawcett, 1961)