Oh. [ She doesn't say it in a particularly accusing manner. But as far as she knows from history, few in 1470s Eastern Europe held particularly progressive views as far as creative expression being a basic human right. She blinks. ] Basically. I mean, in my time, where I'm from, pretty much everyone gets a real basic art education. Like, just as part of school. So they make us go to classes when we're little, to learn the difference between art types and how they're made, and we learn about really important artists. I guess to make us "well-rounded". But when it comes to ownin' art, or bein' a professional artist, that's still mostly for rich people.
[ It's more complicated than that and Julie is aware of it, but she doesn't have the vocabulary to explain the pervasiveness of art on the whole in the twentieth century. She has an American public school graduate's understanding of art, which is mostly how to take rubbings of leaves, how to make pinch pots, and a knowledge of history's most famous artists to date.
Her eyebrows raise and she shrugs. Quite frankly, Julie doesn't give a shit about native Abraxans -- she has come to believe that they are a faceless mass beneath the Summoned, unable to connect to the Singularity in the same way. She doesn't hold it against them; she knows that she would have been considered the equivalent back home. But also, if the cult was capable of kidnapping people famous by virtue of simple existence, in a constant sort of spotlight, then of course they'd had no trouble kidnapping nobodies. ] I don't know. Maybe it woulda paid off, maybe not. I don't like to look at what coulda been. But it was kinda like... a hate crime? In that we were bein' targeted specifically. So they have to, y'know, pay lip service to us. It's just politics. Which is gross.
[ She does not care about Abraxan politics beyond open war. She does not want to be involved in them, and she is forced to be simply because she was brought to this world.
It strikes her as a bit funny. Julie had not thought about Chihuly pieces in years, either of them. One seen when she a teenager in school, the other seen in the wake of the end of the world, where grand art pieces were left abandoned by the nearly vanished human race. Vegas had huge amounts of art to see, but the glass in the Bellagio had been what stuck with her most. She smiles, somewhat nostalgic. ]
I'd think so. It was made of like, big glass flowers, all sort of layered 'til there wasn't any gaps between 'em. But it was all sort of abstract. Maybe I'll make it in the Horizon.
no subject
[ It's more complicated than that and Julie is aware of it, but she doesn't have the vocabulary to explain the pervasiveness of art on the whole in the twentieth century. She has an American public school graduate's understanding of art, which is mostly how to take rubbings of leaves, how to make pinch pots, and a knowledge of history's most famous artists to date.
Her eyebrows raise and she shrugs. Quite frankly, Julie doesn't give a shit about native Abraxans -- she has come to believe that they are a faceless mass beneath the Summoned, unable to connect to the Singularity in the same way. She doesn't hold it against them; she knows that she would have been considered the equivalent back home. But also, if the cult was capable of kidnapping people famous by virtue of simple existence, in a constant sort of spotlight, then of course they'd had no trouble kidnapping nobodies. ] I don't know. Maybe it woulda paid off, maybe not. I don't like to look at what coulda been. But it was kinda like... a hate crime? In that we were bein' targeted specifically. So they have to, y'know, pay lip service to us. It's just politics. Which is gross.
[ She does not care about Abraxan politics beyond open war. She does not want to be involved in them, and she is forced to be simply because she was brought to this world.
It strikes her as a bit funny. Julie had not thought about Chihuly pieces in years, either of them. One seen when she a teenager in school, the other seen in the wake of the end of the world, where grand art pieces were left abandoned by the nearly vanished human race. Vegas had huge amounts of art to see, but the glass in the Bellagio had been what stuck with her most. She smiles, somewhat nostalgic. ]
I'd think so. It was made of like, big glass flowers, all sort of layered 'til there wasn't any gaps between 'em. But it was all sort of abstract. Maybe I'll make it in the Horizon.