Joy...

Apr. 7th, 2009 11:15 pm
kialio: (Default)
...on a rainy Tuesday evening.

Reading Lackadaisy and listening to 1920s era online radio.

I need to have a 1930s weekend again. I haven't had one in forever. Though this wekend I only have one day off and am going to the Renaissance Faire. Maybe the weekend after.

I love old scratchy-recording songs.
kialio: (Default)
I just learned about the occupation of Wounded Knee in 1973, today. While channel surfing in a fit of boredom. Gods I am ashamed (AP US History and Native Studies in college, whut?)

In April, PBS will showcase five films on Native American history/present. It's called We Shall Remain. The first episode premieres on April 13, 2009.
kialio: (Default)
Hrm, I've been into media of late instead of just poking my nose around on the computer.

First off I'm trying to decide between Watchmen and Street Fighter this weekend. Watchmen... from a jailbreak scene looks godawful, but full of belly laughs. Street Fighter on the other will be familiar rediculousness. Horrible choreographed fighting or Balrog with a grenade launcher? I simply can't choose.

In other news I seem to always want fanfiction of a strange sort. I just finished watching the newest BBC production of Oliver Twist with the lovely Sophie Okonedo as Nancy. And well, I want Nancy fic badly. It's not just because I love the Victorian era, or am fascinated by the life of the London poor. Though that's all true I'd trek far for an Oliver Twist fic featuring the beautiful, new Miss Nancy. And I'm not much a fic reader and haven't been so for years.

I want to "know" Nancy and what her life was like... Which is sort of sad on my part. I like Dickens but have never been able to slog through his books excepting A Christmas Carol. Who knows, maybe it's the girl-like-me effect of Sophie's portrayal. <3

kialio: (Default)
1- British colonials enforced and solidified the caste system in India.

2- The reason we do not have universal healthcare: Franklin D. Roosevelt proposed such a system as part of the new deal but did not have the political backing because white folk in the South (and everywhere else) did not want to pay for (nor see in their in hospitals) black folk.
kialio: (Default)
A farthing on one hand and a pound on the other

Well, for the time being I'm scrapping my idea of making a Moroccan takchita for the Renaissance Faire. They're beautiful and lovely, but I have to do a lot of research before I can make it true to the period. As well as buying the material and putting it all together. These are the three things I just don't have right now: money, time, and focus. I really want to go in costume so I'll relegate myself to beginner status and buy the standard merry wench outfit off the rack. The English merchant and his Moroccan wife will just have to wait a while.

In the same vein my plans to make a Victorian walking outfit are slowly morphing into a Steampunk outfit. I find myself sketching again, which is a wonderful thing. My creative spirit was crushed a while ago and now I feel it daring to stretch its wings again. Designing a gamut of things too. From the poorer classes whom I have very few historical depictions of to the standard upper crust wear where I can find way too many references.
kialio: (Default)
Last night I found myself sitting in front of my vast collection of Victorian books. I pulled out one hard cover titled "At Her Majesty's Request" about an African girl named Sarah Forbes Bonetta, the Egbado princess. A gift to the Queen of England from an African king Sarah instead became the protégé to Victoria, unheard of for nonwhites in that era. Sarah was tutored, prepped, fawned over, and played with the royal children on equal terms. The Queen became her godmother and protector.

So I thumb through the book. It’s short and really written for a much younger crowd but the pictures are lovely and the tale is warming. There are a few paintings and photographs of Sarah tucked among the pages. Dark and lovely, with the scars that mark her rank a symbol of beauty rather than the disfigurement they would have been regarded as during that time period. I wonder what it must have been like for Sarah, caught between two worlds and trying to live her life as any woman would do.

Slowly images of the Fisk Jubilee Singers spring to mind. Clothed in the well-to-do trappings of the time but unapologetically black. Just a short while ago there was a conversation of Steampunk and different ethnicities taking the standards and making them uniquely theirs. The images of the book and of the black Diaspora intermingle, Bantu knots and bustles mix and compliment. A fantasy world of steam arises based on a careful sample of an ignored history. Women weighed down by hoopskirts and dreadlocks fly gleefully through the air on wild contraptions. Afro puffs are bedecked with burgundy feathers. In silver and crystal dining rooms crimson legumes with wild rice are followed by dried plums in port with a puffed pastry crust (gold star for naming these two dishes.) In dark corners of the slums vile deals go down while the virtuous are silenced.

It’s an interesting world. One I had never fully thought of piecing together. Steampunk and history seem at odds at times in philosophy and social mores. But maybe that’s what makes it fascinating. I may have to put much more thought in this otherworldy setting.

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