Artist: Frans Hals (1582/1583–1666)
Title: Shrovetide Revelers
Genre: genre painting
Date: circa 1616–17
Medium: oil on canvas
Dimensions: 51 ¾ × 39 ¼ in. (131.4 × 99.7 cm)
Collection: Metropolitan Museum of Art
What I think about this painting:
This was a lurid scene at the time it was painted and is still lurid today. The sole female portrayed is a girl dressed in the finest of garments, surrounded by men. She is well-fed, has abundant blonde hair, and represents the concept of “plenty.” The party will go on for as long as she lasts–when she is gone, the party is over.
The color of her hair is gold, an allegory for an abundance of coins. The men posed around her represent the human tendency toward gluttony, drunkenness, and greed.
Frans Hals depicted the embroideries on the fabric of her dress and the intricate lace at her neck and cuffs with exquisite care and attention to detail. The sheen of her satin sleeves gleams in the candlelight, showing off the strings of beads at her neck and wrist. Perhaps the beads are carnelians. Her brightly flushed cheeks give evidence to her inebriation.
All the characters, including the serving man, are shown as having overindulged. The foods on the table are those any person could acquire, but they are shown being wasted, used as decorations for fools.
Food was an incredibly popular subject for paintings during the renaissance–still lifes were exceedingly good sellers for most artists. Food of all varieties was carefully staged and shown with superb realism and minute detail. Those artists we now call the Dutch and Flemish masters used food as an allegory, and even in genre paintings, they loved to paint lavish food displays.
As in the scene above, the foods depicted in scenes of drunkenness and revelry conveyed symbolic meanings, often implying immorality and debauchery.
Mostly, the imagery was intended to be a reminder that great wealth can vanish overnight. Also, they show us that gluttony is both unappealing to look at and unhealthy for the glutton.
But when I see an image such as this painting, I have to think these artists, whose own morals were often quite elastic, were exercising their broad senses of humor.
About this painting, via The Met Museum:
Shrovetide, now better known as Mardi Gras, is the traditional period of indulgence before the fasting and self-discipline of Lent. In the seventeenth-century Netherlands, it was also the occasion for theatrical performances by the painters’ guilds.
Here, Hals depicts two stock figures from these plays, Hans Wurst, with a sausage dangling from his cap, and Pekelharing, who sports a garland of salted fish and eggs.
They flank a richly dressed girl (probably a boy in drag, as women were not permitted to perform on these occasions).
Still life elements litter the foreground, evoking both the traditional foods of the festival and an abundance of erotic innuendo. [1]
About this painting, via Wikipedia:
Shrovetide Revellers, also known as Merrymakers at Shrovetide, is a painting by the Dutch Golden Age painter Frans Hals, painted in around 1616–17. It is one of the earliest surviving works by Hals, and has been held by the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City since 1913. The painting shows people festivities at Shrovetide (Dutch: Carnaval), an annual carnival of food and jollity which takes place before the Christian fasting season of Lent.
The painting shows the face of an elegantly dressed smiling woman raising her right finger to make a point, while a man grabs her shoulder to whisper in her ear: he has a string of herring, eggs and mussels around his neck, with a pig’s trotter and a fox tail, symbols of gluttony and foolishness respectively. Another amused gentleman, with a wurst hanging from his cap, leans on the first man’s shoulder and listens to their banter. Some claim these are the Baroque theatre characters Peeckelhaeringh and Hans Wurst. Behind them other people are talking and laughing. The flagon Bears the initials “fh”. [2]
Credits and Attributions:
[1] Shrovetide Revellers or Merrymakers at Shrovetide by Frans Hals, Met Museum Contibutors © 2000–2022 The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Frans Hals | Merrymakers at Shrovetide | The Metropolitan Museum of Art (metmuseum.org) (Accessed April 14, 2022).
[2] Wikipedia contributors, “Shrovetide Revellers,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Shrovetide_Revellers&oldid=1070869013 (accessed April 14, 2022).
It deals with things like the mass of objects, the speed at which they travel, how speed and mass are converted to energy, and how mass warps the fabric of space and time.
But what about “It?” Here, we are dealing with possession by the inanimate. We don’t need an exorcist, although a good maid service would resolve a great deal here at Casa del Jasperson. But in this case, we are referencing something owned by the inanimate:
In the case of number 4, the sentence would be stronger without it. Most of the time, the prose is made stronger when the word “that” is cut and not replaced with anything. I say most, but not all the time.
In the written narrative, the many forms of this verb are what
“Lay” is a transitive verb that refers to putting something in a horizontal position. At the same time, “lie” is an intransitive verb that refers to being in a flat position.
To lie is an intransitive verb: it shows action, and the subject of the sentence engages in that action, but nothing is being acted upon (the verb has no direct object).
The verb that means “to recline” is “to lie,” not “to lay.” If we are talking about the act of reclining, we use “lie,” not “lay.” “When I have a headache, I lie down.”
All around us, gravity works in hidden ways. Gravity on a small scale keeps everything securely stuck to the surface of Planet Earth.
Creating memorable characters is the goal of all authors. After all, who would read a book with bland and uninteresting dialogue? Dialogue is where most information is given to the characters and the reader. However, when we are just beginning to write, many of us are confused about how to punctuate conversations. It’s not that complicated. Here are four rules to remember:
When you envision your characters in conversation, you must think about what the word natural means. People don’t only use their words to communicate. Bodies and faces tell us a great deal about a person’s mood and what they feel.
For this reason, we don’t want to inject an excess of flushing, smirking, eye-rolling, or shrugging into the story. Those actions have a specific use in conveying the mood, but anything used too frequently becomes a crutch.
First up is the particle. In grammar, a particle is a word with a specific purpose that depends on the words around it. It is a function word that is always associated with another word or phrase to impart meaning.
Today’s readers have no patience with Tolkien’s style of paragraph-long compound sentences composed of clause after clause divided by conjunctions, commas, and semicolons.
I try to limit idioms and phrasal verbs to speech, and then only to that of one character. When used in conversation, they sound natural, but even there, I go lightly. I want to show a specific character’s personality but don’t want my prose to feel cliché and overdone.
Artist:
We are emotional creatures. When we are just starting on this path, getting an unbiased critique for something you think is the best thing you ever wrote can feel unfair.
I could have embarrassed myself and responded childishly, but that would have been foolish and self-defeating. When I really thought about it, I realized that particular plot twist had been done many times before. I thanked him for his time because I had learned something valuable from that experience.
Treat all your professional contacts with courtesy, no matter how angry you are. Allow yourself some time to cool off. Don’t have a tantrum and immediately respond with an angst-riddled rant.
Leah and Tom have no spare bedrooms until the remodel is done. So, we stayed at the Snohomish Inn, two blocks away. It’s an older place but clean.
Sunday morning began with the best avocado toast I’ve ever had. Everyone who knows me has heard how much I love that particular dish. Tom’s version is incredibly simple: a good bread, toasted and topped with mashed avocado, chopped walnuts sprinkled over the top, and a teensy drizzle of honey. It sounds odd, but wow. That was a divine, filling breakfast. The picture I took doesn’t do it justice.
And as a final twist to the craziness–we were finally getting ready for sleep in our hotel room, both of us tired but feeling good about our day. All our toiletries were in a small, dark zipper-bag.
When you are pantsing it (writing-by-the-seat-of-your-pants), themes are like your drunk uncle. They hang out at the local pub until closing time and then weave their way home through dark alleys. Sometimes, as you are leaving for work in the morning, you find them under the neighbor’s shrubs. Other times they make it home.
I often sit on my back porch and just let my thoughts roam, thinking about nothing in particular. Usually, I will end up considering the character’s quest or dilemma. I ask myself what the root cause of the issue is—if it is a crime, why is crime rampant? Is it a societal problem, such as poverty or war? If the core dilemma is unrequited love, what are the roadblocks to a resolution?
These layers offer us an incredible amount of subliminal information about that surreal world and what is going on in reality, what the Matrix truly is.
Poets understand how central a theme is to the story. A poet takes the theme and builds the words around it. Emily Dickinson’s poems featured the themes of spirituality, love of nature, and death, which is why she appealed so strongly to me during my angsty young-adult life.
But that would be wrong. Poets write words that range far more widely than their physical surroundings. Some poets are constrained by unrewarding jobs, others may be “on the spectrum,” as they now say, and still others are constrained by physical limitations.
Fantasy author 


