I don’t like to use the term “to create” in connection with art. Man has, ever since he emerged, attempted to make images. Images whereby he can begin to approach an identification with the cosmos. Sacred art, the sacred in art, is a relatively successful attempt to achieve the unattainable…
I don’t think the function of art is to be “art.” We make it that. And teach it in our art history courses. The function of art has been to communicate ethical, religious values. And it can be done with a landscape or it can be done with a portrait…
Go into the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul where space, rather than the object, is really the sacred thing, and you become identified with it - you’re enveloped with the space and light…
The sacred in art is, in a sense, really divorced from the religion or the faith or the socio-political structure. It’s that little spark which tends to unite man to man over the centuries, over the millenia, and that I find the enriching thing…
Ron Bloore , Speaking at the CBC-TV Symposium on the Sacred in Art, printed in artscanada, April/May 1971
Simit or Gevrek is a circular bread with sesame, poppy or sunflower seeds, found across the cuisines of the former Ottoman Empire, and the Middle East. Size, crunch, chewiness, and other characteristics vary by region. The word comes from Arabic samīd (سميد) ‘white bread’ or 'fine flour’, and semolina. Simit has a long history in Istanbul where it has been produced since at least 1525. Variants became popular across the Ottoman Empire. It's generally served plain, or for breakfast with tea, fruit preserves, cheese or ayran (a yogurt drink).
Request: Hi! I saw you were taking request and I was wondering if you could please write one where Steve and a heavily pregnant reader are both avengers and one day Steve gets seriously hurt on a mission and the stress causes the reader to go into labor so the team is there for her? Lot of fluff/angst and maybe a happy ending? Thanks soooo much! 😊
Warnings: Angst, talk of blood
Word count: 2.2k
A/N: I got this request long ago so sorry for taking so long! And sorry there isn’t a lot of fluff.
You slammed cabinet door in your kitchen with a loud bang. You stared at your bedroom door in anger. You had been slamming things all over the house for ten minutes and still Steve had not emerged. You opened the cabinet door again and slammed it shut. Finally, you heard a door open. You immediately turned to the cup of tea that you had brewed and pretended that you put something in it and stirred. You breathed in and out deeply when you felt a strong hand on your shoulder. You immediately brushed Steve’s hand away.
“Come on, sweetheart, you know I don’t like leaving you angry at me,” he told you.
“Why do you have to leave?” you crossed your arms, “It could be any moment now!”
“We have a month left,” Steve reminded you, “Besides it’s a one-week mission.”
“This is about Bucky again isn’t it?” you suddenly asked.
“This mission is to find Bucky, isn’t it?”
“Why would you think that?” Steve put his hands in his pockets. You knew this gesture to be a sign of his guilt.
“Why Steve? Is this guy really more important than the birth of your first child?” you asked while placing your hand on your incredibly large stomach.
“Of course not!” Steve said, insulted that you would even suggest such a thing.
“Are you sure?” you huffed. You tried to control your breathing.
“Of course, I’m sure,” Steve said in a quieter voice. He knew that you weren’t supposed to be stressed out or else it might induce labor. He held your hand and pulled out a chair for you to sit on. You placed one hand on the table and slowly lowered yourself on the chair. Steve got on his knees and looked up at you.
“I promise I’ll be back in time for the birth of our child,” he assured you and kissed your hand. You gently rubbed his cheek and sighed,
“You better or I will never forgive you, Steve Rogers.”
“I love you,” he said then stood up. He kissed your cheek and went back to the room to finish packing. You a pained groan. You rubbed your stomach and tried to calm down the baby to stop the kicking.
Two weeks passed and Steve still wasn’t back. Natasha had earlier explained that Steve had discovered more information and followed the new lead. He would not be back until later. You weren’t exactly happy about it but figured that the original mission took two weeks but Steve underestimated the time it would take like he usually did. To compensate for Steve’s disappearance Natasha stayed over your guys’ apartment.
“Do you need anything else?” Natasha asked after handing you a glass of water.
“Foot rub?” you asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,”
“Aw come on! We’re naming the baby after you,” you said.
“You may be able to trick Steve into doing that, but I am not touching your feet,”” Natasha said and plopped down beside you. You frowned and crossed your arm.
“Don’t worry princess, he’ll be back soon and you can force him to massage every inch of your body,” Natasha assured you. You smiled then suddenly felt a period-like cramp. You groaned and held your breath
“Are you okay?” Natasha inspected.
“It’s fine. I just got cramps. I’ve been getting them a lot lately for some reason,” you explained, “I cannot wait to give birth. All this back pain and this ridiculous peeing thing is not worth it.”
Natasha smiled and rubbed your shoulder when her phone rang. She quickly grabbed the phone,
“Hey,” she said. You looked at her intently and listened in.
“Uhu….okay….” Natasha mumbled. She then stood up and walked to the kitchen where she spoke even softer. You turned and watched Natasha pace back and forth. She had a grim look on her face.
“I can’t tell her that,” Natasha whispered intensely, “No, I cannot say that. Find him.”
“Find who?” you asked. You couldn’t help yourself and finally walked in the kitchen. Natasha looked at you dumbfounded.
“No one,” she said slowly.
“Okay that’s obviously not true,”
“Tony,” she then said, “We’re talking about Tony. We sent him out on another mission and he’s missing.”
“Is Steve missing?” you asked.
“No! Tony is missing,”
“Nat, when did you lose him?”
“Steve is not missing,” Natasha lied.
“Then where is he?”
“I can’t tell you that it’s confidential, you know that,”
“Tell me where Steve is!” you yelled.
“Istanbul,” Natasha lied
“Call him.” You said.
“Y/N, we can’t do that, it might compromise him!” Natasha argued.
“CALL HIM!” you yelled.
“OKAY FINE!” Natasha cried out, “WE DON’T KNOW WHERE HE IS! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”
Natasha quickly clasped her hands over her mouth.
“Steve is… missing,” You said quietly.
“Y/N, I am so sorry,” Natasha immediately grabbed a chair. She guided you onto it as you stared at the floor of your kitchen. Tears came out of your eyes and you sobbed,
“What happened? How did you lose him?”
“He was following a HYDRA agent when they spotted him. He had to abandon his post and we lost him,”
“How long has he been missing?” you asked through tears.
“A week?!” you cried out. You began sobbing out loud again
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Breathe in and out. Calm, calm, it’s gonna be okay,” Natasha assured you. You grabbed a paper towel for your tears.
“What if he’s not around? What if he misses this birth? What if he dies, Nat?” you blurted.
“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay! We’ll find him! We’ve got everyone on the lookout for him,”
“What if it’s not okay?!” you yelled.
“Calm down,” Natasha softly said trying to calm you down, “Don’t panic, it’s not good for the baby. Come on just breathe in and out. Look at me… look at me. It’s going to be okay,”
You breathed in and out deeply with Natasha’s coaching. You knew she was right and you calmed yourself down. You slowly wiped the tears from your eyes and nodded at Natasha’s calming words.
“I promise you, we are going to find him and he will be here the birth your little Natasha,”
“Okay,” you nodded.
Days passed and no news of Steve came. You found yourself unable to sleep because of it. Natasha tried her best to relax you and get you to sleep. She gave you chamomile, helped you meditate, used aromatherapy; she had even massaged your feet, but you both found that nothing worked. You were laying down on the couch with Natasha reading you a story when her phone rang. Natasha immediately picked up. You struggled to sit up when Natasha spoke,
“Yes. Okay…And?… oh… okay… is he… I see,”
“What? What is it?” you asked.
“Okay, I will tell her. Thank you. Good- bye,”
“Well?” you asked while placing your hand on your stomach.
“We found him,”
“Oh thank God,” you whispered, “Is he okay? Is he on his way home?”
“That’s the thing, Y/N, he’s badly injured.”
“What?” you exhaled. Tears came to your eyes once more. You covered your face with your hands and wept quietly. Natasha sat beside you and wrapped her arms around you. She rubbed your shoulders and kissed your temple.
“It’s okay,” she told you, “It’s gonna be okay,”
“How?” you sniffed, “How is everything going to be okay? My husband might be die! I’m giving birth to this child all alone!”
“Hey, hey, that’s not true,” Natasha told you, “All your Avenger family will—“
“Let’s face it, Nat!” you sobbed louder.
“Steve is going to be fine. He always is. He’s a super solider remember?”
“H-He promised me he was going to be back a week and a half ago a-and now h-he’s not even coming back ever! I c-can’t raise this kid by myself!” you sobbed hysterically, “What do I tell her? DADDY DIED SO I’M SORRY IT’S JUST ME? H-He wasn’t even on a mission to save the world! HE was out l-looking for B-BUCKY! BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY HIS BEST FRIEND IS MORE IMPORTANT THAT HIS FAMILY!!”
You suddenly felt an unfamiliar pressure push on your pelvis. A jolt of pain emerging from your lower back to your abdomen soon hit you.
“Y/N,” Natasha whispered as you grasped the hem of her shirt tightly.
“Ah!” you yelped. You shifted in your seat but found that the pain did not go away.
“Y/N are you okay?”
“It was just a contraction,” you explained, “Although it was pretty weird.”
“Okay, just breath then. Don’t stress out the baby,” Natasha instructed.
“Right, yeah okay,” you nodded.
“I’ll get you some tea,”
After a few minutes, you felt the painful contraction once more. You frowned and shifted in your seat as you waited for Natasha.
“It’s okay, baby, daddy will be home soon,” you whispered to your stomach. Natasha was right. You were overreacting and Steve would be okay. You closed your eyes and imagined Steve walking in through the door and greeting you the way he always did: with a tight hug and a long kiss. You breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. You focused on that happy memory to calm yourself down. A few more minutes passed when you felt another contraction. You slowly stood up and tried to walk around.
“Y/N, sit down,” Natasha commanded as she came in with your tea.
“I can’t, these contractions are killing me and they’re not going away,”
“What does that mean? Should you be having contractions?” Natasha asked, panicked.
“They’re perfectly normal, but they usually go away, but these ones aren’t going away and—UUGH! They’re really freakin’ painful,”
“What does that mean then?”
“Ah! I’m not sure, but it feels like…labor,” you mused.
“What?! No! You’re not due for another week!” Natasha said. You gave another pained groaned.
“She’s not waiting for it!” you cried out.
“OKAY! OKAY! LET’S GO!” Natasha cried out and grabbed her phone. She had called every available Avenger and instructed them to meet you both in the hospital.
Before you knew it, you were in the doctor’s office with a gown on and laying on your back.
“Sorry Mrs. Rogers, but she can’t be here when the baby comes,” the nurse said while gesturing to Natasha.
“What why?” you asked.
“She’s not family,” the nurse explained.
“Yes, she is! She’s my sister,”
The nurse gave you an odd look.
“Sister-in-law,” you elaborated, “That counts as family okay?”
The nurse opened her mouth to protest when Natasha argued,
“Look lady! I am an Avenger sister! You have to let me stay! I’m the only one she has right now! I’m the godmother and her husband isn’t here yet and I’m all she’s got! You have to let me stay!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but it can’t be done,” the nurse said then pushed Natasha out.
“Please! Please! I have saved this earth several times!” you pleaded, “LET ME HAVE HER AROUND!”
“Okay, okay!” the nurse exclaimed, “I suppose I can let it slide!”
Hours passed and you were ready for birth. Natasha had stood right beside you and held your hand tightly.
“Just do that weird breathing technique thing you’re supposed to have learned in birthing class,” Natasha whispered.
“Oh shut up,” you told her as you pushed.
“That was a good push, Mrs. Rogers now give me another one!” the doctor instructed.
“I am never forgiving Steve!” you cried out as you pushed again. As you pushed you heard a lot of commotion outside your room.
“Sir! Sir! You cannot go in there!” a voiced yelled.
“Get out of his way!” a voice that you recognized to be Clint’s came.
“Yeah, don’t you know who he is?” Tony’s voice came.
“Sir! You can’t!”
“His wife is giving birth! You have to let him in!” Sam’s voice came.
Suddenly the door burst open and a bloody Steve in his Captain America uniform emerged with his Avenger entourage.
“Sweetheart, I’m here,” Steve announced.
“Steve!” you cried out as your pushed once more and squeezed Natasha’s hand.
“AAAAH STEVE TAKE OVER! THIS FREAKING HURTS!” Natasha cried out and pried her hand away from you. Steve immediately ran to your side and grabbed your hand. He kissed your forehead and hand.
“Please you can’t be here!” the doctor exclaimed.
Everyone protested when the nurse clapped her hands loudly.
“ONLY THE HUSBAND PLEASE!” the nurse yelled.
“You heard her,” Natasha said and pushed everyone out. You smiled as Tony and everyone complained while they walked out. You squeezed Steve’s hand and looked at him.
“I’m early,” you whispered.
“I know, I know, but it’s okay. You’re doing great,” Steve told you.
“You look like shit,”
“Yeah, but I made it,”
“I thought you were gonna die,” you confessed
“Me? Not until I’m old and wrinkly,”
“Push Mrs. Rogers!” the doctor said.
“PROMISE ME!” you screeched and squeezed Steve’s hand like a boa constrictor.
“Holy moly! Nat wasn’t kidding when she said this hurts,” Steve commented.
“This is your punishment,” you retorted.
“Push!” you heard. You gave another high-pitched noise and almost crushed Steve’s hand when you pushed.
Once the baby had arrived she was immediately given to you.
“Hey there beautiful,” Steve whispered and slowly reached for your daughter.
“Sir!” the nurse stopped him, “Are your hands clean?”
“Oh, right, I’m sorry,” Steve said. He contented himself to kissing you and staring at your daughter.
“Hey there Nattie,” you cooed and kissed your baby.
“I kept my promise,” Steve told you.
“If you ever pull anything like that again, I will personally kill you myself,” you whispered.
“I love you,” you said.
“I love you too and now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll seek medical attention now,” Steve said then he fainted.
The eldest daughter of Sah Sultan, daughter of Sultan Selim I and sister of Sultan Suleyman, and her husband Grand Vizier Lutfi Pasha. Like any other girl born as representative of the dynasty,Esmehan was waiting marriage with pasha,which will chooses her mother and approve Padishah.On the fate the niece of the Sultan historians still argue…one of the most popular and more plausible theory is marriage to Şehzade Mehmet. Most probably in 1540 held their wedding. Marriage beloved son of Hurrem Sultan and daughter of Sah Sultan had a political purpose, anyway in the same year Şehzade Mehmet became the official heir to the throne and went to Manisa (Saruhan Sancağı).In Manisa was born first and only child of Şehzade - Hümaşah Sultan. Happy family life was not long - in 1543 Şehzade Mehmet dies of smallpox. Esmehan Baharnaz was only 21 when she became a widow. About her later life known actually nothing. But given that Hümaşah Sultan raised with the active participation of both grandmothers, mother and daughter lived in Istanbul, where in 1556 daughter in law of the great Haseki is died.She was only 34 years old.
Hey everyone, there was a terrorist attack in Istanbul, Turkey.
3 suicide bombers attacked the airport, which is the 11th busiest. Last I heard, 31 people are dead. Daesh appears responsible, but I don’t think they’ve taken responsibility yet.
Please pay attention. When these things happen in the US or Europe, all eyes are on it, but often the same can’t be said for attacks in the Middle East.
If you pray, pray for Istanbul. Even if you don’t, please send positive thoughts.
And, more importantly, donate if you can. I haven’t heard of any charities specifically for this yet (this literally just happened, so that’s understandable), but once you hear of any, please reblog this and add links.
This is a horrifying tragedy, and if you know anyone in Istanbul, please check in and make sure they’re ok. I hope all of you are safe, and your families are safe.
We need to show solidarity with Turkey. We need to be united against terrorism, no matter where it happens.
I am sorry for this post because actually I don’t want policy to get involved in this blog, that’s just not what it is about, but this time I just can’t. I don’t know how they handle it in your area/country but where I live everyone cared so much about Paris. They draw pictures, changed their profile pictures and all the news shows talked about it for nearly a week. What happened in Istanbul is horrible and it freaks me out that there is ONE news show who talked about it for like 3-4 minutes. The others casually ignored it because “yeah it’s on the other side of the globe” or “man I don’t even know where Istanbul is” or whatever. I feel sorry for that, people love to show their condolence but apparently just if it’s not more than a view kilometers away.
I have a really hard time cleaning ink off my brushes. Do you have any tips?
Hi there! I apologize for taking so long to answer your question. Luckily, The Masters Brush Cleaner & Preserver beautifully restores damaged brushes, so even if you have weeks of dried paint on your brushes, they can be saved! I have religiously used this cleaner for eight years and it has preserved my original set of kolinsky sable watercolor brushes, which I still use today.
Dampen a brush and swirl it in the cleaner. You want a thick paste, not a bubbly lather, so don’t get the brush or soap too wet. Work the paste into the bristles using your fingers, paying special attention to the base of the brush. The dried paint will soften and seep into the soap, giving it color. Eventually, the soap will cease to draw color and you’ll know that the bristles are clean.
Rinse your brushes in distilled water. I never realized the value of distilled water until living in Istanbul, where tap water is very hard and damaging. If you have invested in expensive brushes like kolinsky sables, try to use distilled water at all times.
Finally, swirl the clean brushes in just a bit of cleaner to reshape the points. If I need to retire my brushes for a few weeks and I’m in a dry climate, I will coat them in a bit of Vaseline to keep them moisturized.
Since that was an incredibly depressing post, let me recommend a much more uplifting book recommendation, The Woman Who Defied Kings.
It’s a very interesting biography of Gracia Mendes Nasi, one of the Spanish conversos who fled to Portugal. Among those who continued to secretly practice Judaism, she married a powerful spice-trader who himself was a conversos. After his death and her move to Antwerp (where her late husband’s brother had set up a profitable bank, the House of Mendes) she used her immense resources and wealth to establish a network where other Jews could escape Spain and Portugal.
When her brother-in-law also died, she was left with an enormous banking and trading empire, and influence over kings and popes. She became so powerful that when the pope sentenced a group of conversos to the stake, she organized a trade embargo with the Papal States and got them released.
Several of the historic synagogues and yeshivas in Istanbul (where she fled after Europe proved hostile) were built by her for the Jewish refugees she helped escape there.
This Starbucks store in Istanbul draws design inspiration from the boats and ferry buildings it sits opposite from. It features a combination of traditional and industrial aesthetics, layered with a rich range of materials including local marble, iroko wood, brass details and terrazzo flooring. This five-story Starbucks store includes a rooftop terrace with a beautiful view over the Bosphorus that separates Asia and Europe. #WhereInTheWorld
Muhamed is a 15 year old boy from Bosnia and Herzegovina who needs an urgent liver transplantation since the doctors made a huge mistake and gave him a wrong diagnosis about his disease. He kept taking the pills that the doctors prescribed him but nothing helped. His disease kept being the same - without any progress.
So, his family and him went to Istanbul where the doctors gave him the right diagnosis of his disease. He was diagnosed with Peliosis hepatis (an uncommon vascular condition characterised by randomly distributed multiple blood-filled cavities throughout the liver).
And basically, he needs your help to survive. He needs your will to get what every living creature deserves - life.
DONATION INFORMATIONS -
Donations for Croatia (name of the bank): Istarska kreditna banka
SWIFT CODE: ISKBHR2X
Everything will help. From the most sincere messages to your donations. And spread the word!
I’m still sorry about it all. I hope the walls don’t talk about me. I hope the stairwells stopped creaking my name. I know I’ve got a lightning rod spine, and it hurts to stand up for anything anymore, but in my defense, I never did get your letters. The ones where you explain your silence when I asked what your nightmares were about months ago. The ones where you say they were always about losing me. It’s been so long, and I don’t know what Everests are taking your breath away, but I’ll take this feeling and drop it like an avalanche that couldn’t hold on anymore. That is to say I’ll still love you, but now I’ll just do it quietly. Did you know that there’s a place in Istanbul where the light pours in through the mosques and everyone there becomes holy at the same time? I meet you there every time my eyes close. When I check my messages, I listen for your voice first. I’ll miss you always. Come back home when it gets too dark.
Where I am, the streets are quiet because everyone is staying inside, too scared that something might happen if they go out.
Every channel on TV is reporting what’s going on, but no one really knows.
The 2 big bridges are closed.
Every once in a while I can hear things fly by; I’m not sure if it’s helicopters or something else, but there definitely is something.
My cousin and uncle are out there. They were trying to get my cousins husband because she was too worried to let him stay alone at their apartment, but now they’re stuck. My aunt just talked to them on the phone; they can hear gun shots.
I’m really worried.
Please, people. Stay inside, stay safe. We are probably all gonna be alright, but it’s an unnecessary risk to go out right now. My thoughts are with everyone who’s here; try to stay calm, distract yourself if possible. Get a bit sleep. Tomorrow, things will look better.
isn’t it funny how no one cares about the major terrorist attack that just happened in Istanbul? where are the temporary facebook profile pictures? where are the massive snapchat filters? where are the trending hashtags? but no, instead we have a couple of sighs and move along because it’s not happening in America, or in a country that everyone knows the location to… call me bitter all you want, but it’s nearly impossible for me not to address how everyone is ignoring this major issue.