All hail Gustave Caillebotte, the only Impressionist who bothered to say “You know what this art movement doesn’t have enough of? Shirtless rough trade, that’s what!” And then he became the change he wanted to see in the world, and I think that’s beautiful.
i saw this in a museum once and i gotta go off on this for a second– not only is it a gorgeous display of technical mastery over light, darkness, composition, form. it’s also a slap in the face to artistic conventions at the time. at the time, you could have nudes but they had to be heroic. they had to be virtuous. 1875, paris– art was supposed to be elevating. it was for the wealthy, it was to be uplifting, it was so everyone who commissioned the pictures could flex their classics education. okay?
so here’s the floor planers. they’re workmen. they’re workmen. they’re not some rent boy you dolled up with a helmet to be achilles or adonis. artists have been hornily painting working-class models (and sex-worker boyfriends) into their portraits forever, but you’re supposed to frame your appreciation for the male form as an intellectually irreproachable appreciation for the heroic body from literature, or, conversely you could depict the humble beauty of peasants, if you must, but it had
to be a sort of ode to nature and the simple life. peasants could be art, as long as they were… out there, you know. in a field. being a metaphor. so there’s your options for looking at a shirtless guy: he’s got to be mythic.
but no. look, here, at the workmen. the floor planers. the workmen’s bodies not dressed up in sandals and helmet, in flowers, on a pedestal. the workmen not employed as some distant paean to an arcadian countryside, not stacking sheaves or holding a lamb or elevating the beauty of nature. they’re here, they’re urban, they’re in a room just like you might have. the workers of your world, in your home, in this reality. the male body as a very real, very nonfigurative tool, humble and employed, but still gorgeous. the beauty of the men that the patrician class pays not to see. the men who come into your mansion through the back door and work unseen and leave unseen. those men. there, right there, this painting, glowing and beautiful.
not adonis. but beautiful.
anyway at the time everyone fucking hated this picture because it’s a direct slap across the classist chops. they were BIG MAD, this was filthy, it was an affront. they hated it. the paris salon rejected it. established intellectuals didn’t want anything to do with this kind of confrontation. it wasn’t art.
i just love that.
like, look at those hot guys go. look at the shine on the floor and the way their arms are. no virtuous framing, no classic allusions. just some regular guys making the floors nice for a rich fucker who never laid eyes on them at all. but here they are: look at them.
Thematically speaking, the most important thing Terry Pratchett taught me was the concept of militant decency. The idea that you can look at the world and its flaws and its injustices and its cruelties and get deeply, intensely angry, and that you can turn that into energy for doing the right thing and making the world a better place. He taught me that the anger itself is not the part I should be fighting. Nobody in my life ever said that before.
More lessons from Pratchett:
Good isn’t always nice (i.e. sometimes appearing nice is a luxury you can’t afford if you want to do the right thing) (this refers to setting bones and fighting evil, not to being pointlessly horrible)
Evil can appear very nice indeed (watch out for people who smile while they deny your basic humanity)
People can suck, be rude and actively work against their own best interests, but personkind is still something we must protect so they can keep being wonderful in between all the stupid
“Person” is always a broader category than you think
It’s not about who’s best for the job - it’s about who shows up and does it
Be very aware of how you treat those in your power; you will be judged on it
Respect women, which explicitly includes trans women (with or without beards and steel-toed boots)
Kings: no. Hard-boiled eggs: yes
No one - not military leaders, not kings, not patricians, not gods - no one is beyond consequences or above justice
Addendum: those who think they are are often the worst of the worst
Kids understand more than we think and sometimes the best way to protect innocence is to arm them with knowledge, confidence, and skill
How you’re born is intrinsically less important and less relevant than who you make yourself into
I can’t put it into a pithy sentence but that bit where Magrat is like “let’s toss [Lily] off the tower” and Nanny answers with “go ahead then” and Magrat hesitates bc it’s easier to do something like that together than to make the decision alone… impactful.
The more I’m thinking about it the more I’m happy Loki and OFMD are being released at the same time because OFMD is going to be such a cleansing experience after enduring whatever the fuck they’re planning for Loki
