Okay, so I’m stuck at home during this early spring blizzard, and noting, with some surprise, the number of posts over at Pink Raygun, following my most recent ep review of “On the Head of a Pin.” While I’m not going to take credit for the discussion that has taken off on its own, I can call myself a facilitator for providing the space. Maybe. Anyway…I got a case of the giggles and made one of these to send to my editor at PRG, because sometimes, you just have to pat yourself on the back.
Archive for the 'PicSpam' Category
I really should be working on something else…for example, I could be finishing my laundry so that I can get to bed before midnight. (Big day ahead tomorrow, job hunting.) Or I should be working on that book I’m writing. You know. The serious novel that’s supposed to be a top priority. Or…well, you get the picture. What I should not be doing was what I was doing which was picking out my favorite pic of Dean and Sam. And I mean favorite. Hands down, bar none, portrait of the boys. I do have other favorites, ones I like, ones that jolt me, ones that make me laugh, ones that make me go guh. But these two seem quintessential somehow, and capture the very essence of what is Dean and Sam. How could I not share something so fabbo? Here they are: (Gawp first. Discussion to follow.)
Ta da! I can upload pictures! Picspam here I come. But in the meantime….yeah. Dean and Sam. I call these pics Dark Dean and Dark Sam. And they seem to capture a lot of the angst and emotional burden that come with being a hunter of evil things. The Samhair on Sam is devine and perfect, all wild as though faries had been at it. Or he slept with it wet. I’m glad he’s got messy hair, I’ve always had a thing for guys with hair like this, sorta rumpled and tossed. Makes me want to run my hands through it and mess it up even more than it is. Dean’s hair is not so soft nor so loveable except that I think he must keep it short so that he doesn’t have to worry about it, so that he will have more time to worry about Sam. Dean’s golden skin is the prize here, there’s almost a sheen of sweat and a tenseness of the jaw that seems to indicate he’s ready to pounce. On whatever needs pouncing upon.
On the less chick flick side of things, you can see it in their eyes that they are hunters. There’s a sheen there, and a watchfulness, and an alert stance. If you met them on the street, you would give them a wide berth, wouldn’t you. I know I would. Okay, asking Dean for his phone number aside, I mean, just look at them. Can you see the sadness hiding in Sam’s eyes, or the worry roiling beneath Dean’s skin? Sam’s mouth is closed as if to shut off the internal confusion that wants to shout why, why, why? And Dean, his mouth is open. He’s about to tell you to fuck off, or at the very least, to move along, because Sam is his business and no one else’s.
It’s interesting to me that I started this post talking about two pictures, and ended up talking about them as if they were in the same photo, which they are not. It seems rather as if they forced their way into the same frame, and that makes sense, because only a fool would try to separate them, and I am no fool. So in keeping with that, I’ve got one more favorite. It’s b/w, and I don’t know to whom I should credit it, but to me it always speaks of the balance between the brothers. Here it is: (Click on the whole thing, it’s worth it…though I do love the closeups of Dean’s freckles….)
What does this picture say? So many things, to me. First, it’s black and white, which gives it a certain starkness. Second, it’s of the brothers together, which is as it should be. Third, Sam is looking at the viewer, and Dean is looking at Sam. Which is also as it should be, considering each of the brother’s world view. Sam sees the whole world, and his place in it. He considers this aspect when making decisions, for example, when he does not allow Gordon to kill the vampire in Bloodlust. He can look at all sides of an argument (except when he’s arguing with Papa Winchester), and base what he does on both logic and feeling and the effect his decision will have. Now Dean, on the other hand, take a look at him. (It’s okay, I’ve been staring this whole time.) The freckles, I love the freckles. They make him young in spite of the gravity of his expression. Which is, notice, directed at Sam. Not so Sam can see, but more, watchful. Careful. Attentive. Sam is his job. His one job, and he is strung tight making sure he does it right. The dark circles under his eyes, and the downward pull to that mouth, oh, man. Guh, right? Dean has no balance, he has only Sam.