Happy Canada Day!

O Canada!

This is an entry from my old blog, so I’m actually able to write this in January of this year and set it up so it will be published in July. Years ago as I poked around the Internet looking for collage material, I found a website that belonged to a professional photographer. I can’t recall if s/he was Canadian, or was celebrating Canada, or had taken photos of a Canadian model, but what’s certain is that when I saved three images from that website, an idea was born.

I wanted to create an animated file to tell a story that celebrated Canada Day, and only (yeah, “only”) five months later I spotted the background during a collage background search; then I was ready to begin work.

It was grueling, as it involved dozens of layers in which the woman’s eyes moved from side to side, following the path of the little guy. I desperately tried to figure out a convincing way to create sand prints of his little feet, but in the end I had to give up on that, as my Photoshop skills were limited. I did learn some things from attempting to do that.

The shadows were maddening, but I finished the collage series before July 1rst, and created the animation to celebrate Canadian buddies in the giantess community: talented, creative people without whom we would not have some amazing collages to look at, or some of the best giantess and shrunken-men stories to read. They are simply great people that made my giantess board participation fun, back when I was having it, eh? Cheers!

The ABC’s Game – C is for City

"sci-fi3" by Tencyo

I wanted to write something new, as well as create a new collage for this weekend’s ABC’s game entry. I didn’t have the time to do either, so it’ll have to keep. I’m happy with the way I think it will look, but in the meantime I’ll recycle a spectacular dream I had and shared at my old blog a few years ago.

C is for City. I have somehow connected part of my enjoyment of growth with a desire to protect the man for whom I have feelings, and the city in which he lives. That connection manifested itself in a dream I had once. I was shopping in the commercial center of a city, and the streets were packed with people as they entered the shops and skyscrapers that clustered to great heights every way I looked. I was moving along the sidewalk when a large crowd of people turned the corner ahead of me, screaming, running away from something, and heading my direction in a stampeding rush.

This vision was immediately followed by a thunderous blow to the ground, and an arch of rubble and crumbled cement that blasted away from the building that towered to my right as a huge fist hit its corner. As more booming footsteps shook the ground, I turned and ran with the terrified crowd, except I was groaning to myself, realizing I would have to deal with this monster. I didn’t mind the fighting; it was the changing into my superhero costume that I dreaded. See, I carried it in my purse, and I would have to change into it right there, in front of all those people. Funny how I was more affected by modesty than I was about being crushed by an oversized creature’s foot.

I fled for about two seconds before I stopped dead on my tracks; people flew past me without stopping to watch me undress (OK maybe one of them did), and take a slinky, pink satin suit that looked more like something one would swim in, out of my purse. I turned to face the humongous beast, who was a rampaging brunette (colossal humans have made it to every B-movie monster list I have seen) that rose 200′ from the pavement, wearing a pink fuzzy thing a la Edison. She stood and growled on that intersection while stomping madly on people and cars, bending to grab handfuls of victims just to fling them against surrounding buildings.

The dream changed from that sequence of events to my imagining (in the dream) what would happen once I put on my suit. I would grow instantly (the reason why I could not wear it underneath my clothes) to a height that matched this destructive creature’s, and the growth of my suit would “activate” the growth of my teammates, an Asian lady that wore a green suit, and a Caucasian blonde that wore a blue one. I pictured them both rushing to my side, and helping. Sadly, the dream ended with the certainty that the three of us would battle the female “monster” and save the city, but it didn’t move from dream imagination to dream action.

Because of the way it feels to imagine and dream of growing and fighting a scaly, furry, or skin monster, I would do it in an instant. Anything to protect my guy and the city in which he lives.

Vanart commercial

Last night, instead of going to sleep, I went to my blog’s admin area and inspected the terms visitors used to find my blog. Doing that causes me to do my own searches every once in a while, just to see what comes up under the blanket of certain terms. Last night I thought to use the keywords “mujer gigante”, and a link to this commercial was probably the third result.

I think it’s great, and not because it includes a giantess. Well, not only because it does. Here are the other reasons:

1. The size of the giantess is one I thought of for myself many times.

2. There are no other women in this commercial. Not that there’s anything wrong with other women… but seeing one tall woman in a city that seems to be populated only by comparatively little men does wonders to create a relationship between the commercial and what I often imagine.

3. I like it when she whirls in place and her hair creates wind. Again, that moment patterns itself after effects I’ve often pictured I create.

4. I like every second of the giantess’ interaction with the “main” little man. I absolutely love his reactions to what she does. His initial shock, his smile, and the rest of it.

5. He’s wearing sandals that allow a quick glimpse of his toes. I’m the only woman in the universe that cares about that, I know.

6. Her delightful expression of mischief when she takes part of his home for her own use. That look she gives him, that tells him, “Aww, little one; that’s right, I’m taking this, and there isn’t anything you can do to stop me.”

The ABC’s Game – A is for Amazon

"Lost-city2" by Marcos Snowbell

A is for Amazon, the tallest woman found in reality, one we can see with our eyes, and not only our imagination. Her height gives her power, and she not only accepts it, she embraces and utilizes it fully with every pounding step she takes.

Wherever she goes, she draws eyes, some in shock, fear, or lack of acceptance, but others in admiration of the heels that carry her, the shape she possesses, the intelligent light in her eyes, the smile that dazzles just a bit brighter when she returns your astonished gaze in that amused way that tells you she knows what you are thinking, because she sees everything from up there.

Amazon is also that giantess warrior, the immeasurably tall woman that I see in myself or in my mind when I think about stories of legendary, mythical beings armed with metal and fire, or with the thick tropical trees and well-hidden tribes that have sworn to serve her in peace, but at war she rises in courage and height to protect those she loves, those living creatures under her wide-spanning care.

Happy Mother’s Day!

The way the movie should have been...

Were-rabbit my @$$.

What? You know you thought about it too. Bring us the size-different claymation porn, film industry!

I’ll be back later to delete these terribly crass words and compose a sensible message. In the meantime, call your mother.

(A week later…)

As it turns out, I won’t be deleting any words from the above; otherwise Trinket’s evil cackle in the comment section won’t make any sense.

For weeks this day visited my mind as I wondered what sort of entry belonged here on Mother’s Day. I mean, who in their right mind would attempt to establish a connection between motherhood and the giantess (or shrinking) fetish? What sort of abominable direction would thoughts have to take to direct a man to the sort of situation that reduces him to the size of a small child; that shrinks his abilities to the scope of a baby’s; that threatens to take away his manly manhood until he’s nothing but a fragile bundle of flailing arms and legs in the hand of a woman?

Don’t play coy. I saw that look on your face.

What?

You’ve never thought of such a thing? You don’t know what I’m talking about? I got some ’splainin’ to do?

Nothing simpler. The relationship between a man and a much taller woman comes in many sizes, and they don’t always have to do with height. Sizes can have to do with emotions, maturity, physicality, etc., and the perception of them, whether it’s enforced or volunteered. There has never been a blurrier line between having no choice but to experience something and offering to do so, than in these fantasies.

In other words, if a woman wakes up one morning and smiles at the little bundle of joy still sleeping next to her, and she decides that tiny pile of hairy limbs that also comes with morning breath and face bristles is going to play baby that day, there is nothing that shrunken man can do about it. Gone are his pants, to be replaced by a diaper she will probably insist he uses; absent are his meals, and instead he’s obliged to struggle in the folds of a baby blanket, and to open his small mouth to accept whatever food she decides he needs; disappeared is the dollhouse and all its accoutrements, replaced by a crib, or a baby pen; and so on.

Why are these terrible things happening to this perfectly mature little guy? What possesses his lovely lady to forget his age, the years he was allowed to spend in school, his ability to speak? Why does he struggle in her grip, and fight her every move with all the strength he has, knowing full well all his efforts are in vain? I don’t know. Don’t ask me, I only blog here.

I found a set of Harvey Nichols ads that utilize Wallace & Gromit characters, and I was left with no choice but to alter them. When I watched The Curse Of The Were-Rabbit DVD extras, they included footage of the tiny village in which the claymation characters interacted. Guess the sort of things I was thinking then.

If I worked in the film industry, and got to erect those small towns, with all those little streets and buildings, I’d come to the stage late at night with my camera and film myself interacting with the miniatures. I’d be fired the next morning when my DNA is found all over them, and it would all come out after I become a famous author, completely ruining my chances to publish children’s books… or maybe improving them.

While watching the movie I had some thoughts about a tiny Wallace interacting with Lady Tottington. They could not be helped, which is less than I can say about her hair. I transformed her into a brunette, and decided it would make for a nice greeting card.

Mother Mother – Wrecking Ball

Rafał Olbiński’s Friendly Persuasion

Friendly Persuasion

A comment by Petronius in this entry brought to my attention the works of Rafał Olbiński. I know some of us enjoy not only stories and collages about giantesses and shrunken men, but other types of media as well. For my part I love books, and I love art; and I combine those and collect art books when I get the chance to do so. I was a little surprised to never have heard of Rafał Olbiński, especially when… well, look at these images!

La Dolce Vita

La Dolce Vita – I wish I could tell you the reason behind the creation of this poster, because on one hand there’s Nino Rota, who wrote the music for the Fellini film with the same title, but on the other hand Krzesimir Dębski, a classical music composer, also has his name on the poster.

There’s no mention of a Dolce Vita ballet on the Internet or on a list of his works, so I’m just going to concentrate on the fact that there’s a giant ballerina wearing a coliseum as part of her dancing attire, and three men are carrying ladders in her direction.

That blue sky (actually the style of the whole painting) reminds me of Magritte’s work, sans the apples and the faceless.

La Traviata

La Traviata – Was the first opera I ever went to listen live. I love the opera. I sit here thinking of it, and my heart pounds. This poster was created for the New York City Opera performance of Verdi’s La Traviata in 1992.

Considering Violetta’s fate, it’s interesting to see her portrayed as larger than life, with whom I assume is Alfredo taking the place of her mouth.

Madama Butterfly

Madama Butterfly – Another magnificent opera I have had the bitter pleasure of seeing live. The poster was created for the Utah Opera 2000’s performance of Madama Butterfly.

If only she were that size, then Pinkerton would have some sense of regret for his cruel actions. He would most likely feel this sense of regret between his legs, from what used to be there.

It’s also possible that a giantess Butterfly would have rearranged Pinkerton’s face instead of killing herself and allowing another woman to raise her child.

The Tales of Hoffman

The Tales of Hoffman – An opera by Jacques Offenbach based on three short stories by E.T.A. Hoffman, and the poster was created for the Opera Pacific, which doesn’t seem to exist anymore.

I’ll skip my rants on why that might be, avoid an enraged diatribe about the state of music in this economy, and instead mention that this is a lovely poster. It reminds me of Kinuko Y. Craft’s illustrations, although not as exuberant.

Innocence of Courteous Intentions

Innocence of Courteous Intentions – A painting and not a poster. It makes me think of the Clash of the Titans movie, in which gods can see the little mortals through some sort of mirror or glass on a table.

I can’t remember it well because I haven’t seen it in so long, but I bet you know what I’m talking about, since in it the gods are giant.

Dammit, now I won’t be able to rest until I see what it was for myself. I’ll be back later. Gonna fish it out of my DVD collection.

(Later…)

Alright, it was some sort of toy amphitheater where the gods would play with the little clay people and thus change their destinies. There’s nothing about this image that implies this, but there’s something godlike about looking down at a city through the window of a kitchen table top, and observing the little people’s lives as they scurry about from place to place.

Tosca

Tosca – I assume this is another performance poster, as Tosca is an opera. Those puppet strings make for great interaction.

There are a few other images on the Internet byRafał Olbiński that show the size difference we like between men and women, if you would like to conduct a search for them.

Soho High Heels ads

Soho High Heels 1

Soho High Heels 2

These ads are glorious. I’m not sure if “Soho” is the brand or the distributor, and the website doesn’t make it any clearer; nor do Internet search results that show either possibility could be the answer.

Soho Lab sandals

There’s a Soho Lab brand of shoes, a Skechers offspring, and any fool can see they are not as high-quality as the heels in the ads. My momma didn’t raise no fool, though for $50.00 a pair of Soho Lab sandals doesn’t exactly make me feel nauseated.

Back to the ads, and the reason I created an entry for them: It’s about being tall enough to walk in the clouds. Have you ever been up there? So high up a mountain clouds swirl and shift like great veils all around you? When I was a child I visited places that put me there. I’d get out of the car and look down the side of the road, seeing nothing but a thick blanket of graying white hiding the plummeting distance to the ground below.

I’ve never been afraid of heights, much to my parents’ occasional chagrin. It’s something slightly less than a miracle that the things I did back then to get that rush of height didn’t get me killed… but as someone with an inner giantess, I can’t help but enjoy the visual treat of what would be a fatal trek to the ground.

Biondini high heels

I have wanted to collage images like these ads, except mine would have shown legs from the ankles up.

Back to shoes! Because of my great command of the German language (read: Google translator) I was able to ascertain that the Soho website promotes various brands of shoes, among them Biondini. I want them. I want these pavement crackers. I just need to move to Europe, where most of the beautiful shoes live.

I know it’s much too soon to end this thrilling shoe discussion, but the time has come to do so. I will leave with one last thought: Be very grateful I’m not a real giantess, for if I was, I’m afraid that as kind and gentle as I would be most of the time, I would commandeer legions of workers to build colossal shoes for my feet.

* * *

Advertising Agency: Wirz/BBDO, Switzerland
Creative Director: Matthias Freuler
Art Directors: Kim Sokola, Rahel Boesinger
Photographer: www.svengermann.ch
Retoucher: Daniel Bracher

Giantarctica

She's neither cold, nor cold-hearted

I think ultra giantesses get a bum rap. I’ve read arguments at the boards about interaction, and how it becomes increasingly difficult as the giantess rises in height. While such concern for realism is touching, I’m going to have to say that the very moment one begins to fantasize about beings of drastically different sizes, one should abandon all endeavors in trying to convey a penchant for realism.

Interaction is possible between all sizes. It doesn’t matter if the giantess wears Earth as a pendant that swings from her neck with every step she takes in space, or if the shrunken man is so small his ride is a microscopic mite that lives on his wife’s inner thigh; if the thought we are having makes us tingle, then whatever arguments against it, however logical and entertaining, stem from the naysayer’s inability to feel the same shiver of delight, and not from the imagined knowledge of physics, biology, chemistry, etc., regarding someone measuring an incredible height.

In other words, it is perfectly natural for me to enjoy the vision of growing thousands of miles until a single footprint is the size of a country, and at the same time being able to carry a conversation with the recipient of my attention and the target of my blatant display of size superiority. I understand many people don’t feel the same way; I comprehend the desire to discuss our various preferences and the reasons why we have them; and I will never get why anyone becomes agitated when a member of the community likes something they don’t.

But let’s forget those people! They aren’t here anyway. I love the thought of growing so tall this planet becomes my own pet rock. There’s no connection between that fantasy and destruction: I don’t inhale all of Earth’s atmosphere in a single breath, I don’t dent the planet’s layers or shift them with my weight when I move or lounge, I do nothing that causes the death of a single person. On the contrary, all I do is bring pleasure to one little man of normal size, and myself.

It’s the closest I get to weaving the “goddess” concept into my giantess fantasies. A being that size who is also omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent can very well be defined as a deity. If a man- if the man was to look out his window and see the sky overtaken by the shape of a face he knows well, blue gone and replaced by the deep pink of her lips as she blows kisses that melt every cloud in his direction, day transformed into a temporary night brightened by the playful glint in her eyes as large as moons… I bet he’d have worshipful thoughts, if he’s able to think at all.

I can imagine being in her place, all the way up here, looking down and seeing everything, but focusing my attention on that little window that frames his sweet little body and shows me he just dropped his pants. I’d have a hard time thinking coherently as well.

Long story short: Fire bad, ultra giantesses good.

This is a terrible song, but I can’t help liking it.

Men Without Hats – Antarctica

Comedy Central ads

Giant Sarah Silverman

I found this set of ads that was released recently for Comedy Central. I don’t watch cable TV, and I haven’t seen a Comedy Central show (aside from The Colbert Report) in years, but when I saw them at Ads of the World, they spoke to me for some mysterious reason. Who knows what that might be.

Pros:

1. One of the ads displays a giantess. There’s no mistaking it for anything else. There’s a giantess, and she’s very tall, so large she towers over the city. I want to go to a large (to others, not to me) city under those exact circumstances: giantess, towering, city-as-my-playground type stuff.
2. That’s a toy-sized London, given the height of the giantess. It has a great skyline, and visiting London is on my bucket list.
3. If I were to grow that tall, she would be the sort of evil —or mad— giantess I would be forced to destroy in an epic battle that would be remembered for centuries to come. Why? Because I’m the kind of giantess that doesn’t allow bad things to happen to innocent buildings.
4. She’s a brunette, and so am I. I can look at the image as I squint a bit, and see myself in her place, with darker skin and decent clothes, of course.
5. There’s something to seeing ads like these that makes me feel someday there will be a movie about a shrunken man and a woman that fall in love. I know it’s a big stretch, but I’m good at those. Well, I would be if I could grow.

Cons:

1. The giantess is Sarah Silverman, for whom I don’t care much as a comedienne. I don’t dislike her, but I thought her SNL stint was nondescript, quite forgettable. I’ve never watched her show, and I probably never will.
2. She needs to step away from that building. The way she’s looking at it reminds me of things I’ve spoken of before. Terrible things.
3. For that reason, if I were to grow that tall, she would be the sort of evil —or mad— giantess I would be forced to destroy in an epic battle that would be remembered for centuries- oh, wait. That’s a good thing.
4. What? She’s wearing a bikini and Steve Carell is not in a thong? What gives, justice of the world? Why can’t there be equality in ads? Get rid of the suit, and have him wear a loincloth! Don’t make me go down there. I swear I’ll turn this planet around.

More pros than cons! Whoopie! Here’s giant Kenny and Steve Carell.

Giant Kenny

Giant Steve Carell

* * *

And the people to blame (or thank) for these ads are:

Advertising Agency: Karmarama, London, UK
Creative Director / Art Director: Dave Buonaguidi
Copywriter: Sarah McGregor
Photographer: Julian Wolkenstein
Published: April 2009

The ABC’s Game – A is for Anchor

"pickup_ship" by ??

A is for Anchor, the very thing I need after a growth spurt.

At 203′5″ in height, my mirrors are glass-covered buildings, and the streets that divide them the narrow paths I tread carefully, gentle giantess that I am.

To feel so tall, to see it all from up here makes me giggle with delight, and I always forget what happens when I giggle: I grow!

By the time I’ve regained composure, I’ve grown a few dozen feet, and my slightly shredded blouse has lost its buttons, tabletop-sized projectiles that have pierced walls here, landed on a pizza delivery boy there. Oops.

I move quickly as I hold those tattered remnants together and make my way to the pier, where I spot my Little One’s boat bobbing gently in the water as he gets ready to drop what I need.

I smile at him as I pinch the boat’s tiny anchor by the shank, and I lift it to mend my blouse, hooking two loose ends with its curved arms. It works perfectly!

But what dangles from my chest now?

* * *

After all these years, I still like this song.

Christopher Cross – Sailing