Griffin Fischer

I never did understand – the duality of art and reality – living life and treating it as such, but with a certain disconnect, to touch that cajoles at the artist with comfort and abandon, and between the spires and rolling roofs of the white city. That orange, English light cast only one, singular shadow, for you are not beside but within me. Griffin Fischer | Photographer | Paris [RP Blog]

[griffinfischer-blog]

iliefolie:

Blushing faintly, Ilie rubbed the back of his neck, feeling sheepish and quite flattered. “I’m human and that’s all I can really be,” he mumbled. “It’s useless to try and be anything but human because it’s not possible, so all we can really do is navigate ourselves the best way we can through this weird human experience.” He dipped the tip of his ring finger into the strawberry compote on his plate, and then gently dabbed it onto his napkin portrait of Griffin, putting a flush on his cheeks ans just adding another dimension of realism. “When I first started seeing a therapist in high school–I don’t actually remember this but I wrote it down–she said not one person in this earth is truly alone. And at the time I was hurting, on top of being a teenager, so I thought she was bullshitting me. But all of our human experiences are not totally unique. And even if you never meet someone who’s had it just like you, you’re bound to find someone who’s gone through something similar in some way and is capable of giving you support if you just let them.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t think I’m necessarily naturally smart though. I just retain a lot of stuff I’ve seen and heard.”

Nodding thoughtfully and watching the little portrait of himself coming to further fruition by Ilie’s hand, Griffin felt rather comforted. “That’s a very wise way to think of all of that. I assume,” he said softly, “that having company during times of trial who can understand your suffering and help you overcome it is more peaceful than having those more confused with your condition worried. It would have been nice...” Trailing off, he realized that if he was not careful, he would be spilling his guts to Ilie like the sap he was, telling all about his withdrawal and the hell he endured. To save himself from himself, he stuffed more of his crepe into his mouth. Hopefully if it was full, he wouldn’t revel too much more.

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henrichimie:

Henri chuckled quietly. “You raise a very fair point. And I mean, I suppose at one point British history is still technically American history depending on where you cut things off like that. I kind of run into that tricky distinction too. The architecture can be very beautiful though, I agree.”

Griffin shrugged, offering a small smile. “I suppose you’re right. I got into British history because of American history, so I guess I owe it something in a sense. The architecture of course stole my heart first.” Gazing down, Griffin ruffled up his hair. “I should do one of those ancestry tests. See if I’m just a hopeless fangirl over this stuff or if it’s in my blood, you know?”

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henrichimie:

Henri let out a thoughtful hum as he tried to consider his answer. “I mean… That can be a bit tricky to answer sometimes, you know? Especially since inevitably people are going to be biased towards the history of their own country or something like that. I mean, my brain instantly went to parts of Belgian history even though the country has not really been independent all that long. I suppose some of the more modern parts of history is more enjoyable than others. There are aspects I think are interesting that happened in earlier time periods but… I guess it is hard to explain? I’m not actually a scholar of history so I’m not positive on the best way to say it…”

Griffin smiled at the man before him. “Belgian history sounds fascinating. The way I see it, history doesn’t really have a point where it starts or stops being interesting. Newer history of newer countries can get really intense and in depth. But I do understand, it can get very hard to explain. Myself, I’m more of a British history guy. I guess I’m a fan of the drama and romanticism of British monarchies. They always create the most beautiful of designs, too. I could photograph their architecture all day,” he added with a laugh. “I’m a bit of a nerd about it, truthfully.”

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iliefolie:

“I guess I’m just what you’d call a fighter,” Ilie commented as he rested his head on his other hand. He set down his pen and cut out a bite of his crêpe, slowly lifting it to his mouth; he was starting to feel sluggish. “Or just a straight up stubborn asshole. My dad always said I was stronger than I like to let on. But when you find something you love doing, you keep doing it. When I had those injuries, they came along with other injuries, and this huge sense of hopelessness. I didn’t want that one joy, that one skill, that one escape that I had to be stolen away. And playing guitar or piano requires both hands. I didn’t want art to be taken away from me. I’d always been interested in the lives and influences of my favorite artists, but that time is also when I got deeper into the actual art history. When practicing with my left hand gave me cramps, I would go read.” He took another slow bite of his crêpe. “When I got hurt like that, it was right after I’d won a nationwide art contest. I ended up winning it again the next year, my final year of high school, even after going through all that shit that affected my handedness.” He paused again, this time longer to take a long sip from his tea. “One of my therapists in the past said that we all have our own thresholds that are formed from our personal experiences plus what our bodies and minds are capable at their strongest; and it’s not fair to compare ourselves to others just because our thresholds are different.” He closed his eyes and smacked his lips, pulling all the flavors from the tea. “But also I’m a fucking idiot and self care is a foreign concept to me.”

“You’re really incredible, did you know that?” Shifting in his spot, Griffin made sure to catch Ilie’s eye. “Seriously. That fighting spirit is unique and impressive. Not many people can say they’ve gone through what you have been through and come out on the other side well. You should applaud yourself for that, honestly.” A frown formed across his face. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. Truthfully, you’re one of the smartest people I know here. But...I suppose, on a certain level...I can relate to the lack of self care thing.” Griffin paused to cough, gazing away from Ilie. He was felling as if he was starting to know the boy well, and really connect with him, but he did not even fathom having to confess how haunted his own lack of self care was in the past. “We all have our demons, even the best of us.”

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iliefolie:

Ilie looked up at Griffin and blinked somewhat owlishly. He’d been seeing therapists since he was in high school, but they sometimes felt pretty condescending and didn’t always help. And the friends he’d made in college tended to treat him like he was fragile. He still saw a therapist and had kept up with his closer friends from college, but he often felt like he was still bottling too much up and never really got to vent about anything without feeling afraid that he might sound crazy. “Alright,” he nodded slowly, “I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks.” His concentration on his drawing was broken for the time being so he stopped. “I broke this wrist once,” he commented, wiggling his right hand, the one he was drawing with. “I don’t remember a lot of the time but my dad tells me I was so devastated that I learned to write and draw with my left hand. I’m still not amazing with my left hand but it’s not total shit. I was recovering for a while because it was the wrist and not just the arm, and my collar bone was broken too. And I didn’t want to stop drawing or painting.”

Looking at Ilie’s hand, Griffin was astonished to hear he even tried to draw with it again. He had broken his collarbones before, and those breaks alone made him nearly want to never hold a camera up again in fear they would break once more and cause him pain. To hear Ilie not only went right to using it again but also learned to use his other hand in the process while his collarbone also was broken was incredible. He could hardly believe his ears. “You were truly dedicated to your craft, then. I commend you on that, really. I was a wimp with my breaks. I swear my photography was shit for the first few weeks after I regained use of either arm because I was too scared to try to use them when they broke.” Sipping from his drink, Griffin chuckled to himself. “I’m reckless and don’t always take care of myself, but when something is broken, I draw the line.”

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henrichimie:

He chuckled quietly. “It is a pretty funny placement, isn’t it? I guess you really can’t appreciate one without the other in a way.” He paused and thought it over carefully. “I like appreciating all the architecture here as well as relaxing in the different parks and things like that. I may have gone into chemistry but I also appreciate history and things like that.”

Griffin was fascinated by Henri’s interests. He would have never thought of a Chemistry fan being also so interested in history and the arts, but then again, that was all he had been introduced to. “The parks here are definitely wonderful. I’ve gone through them with my camera a few times. What are your favorite parts of history? I’m a fan of old Tudor England myself,” Griffin mentioned.

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iliefolie:

Dipping the edge of a napkin into his tea, Ilie used it to wipe off his lipstick, which was drying the hell out of his lips. “I’ll give you my number and my Insta, okay? My number is important.” With one napkin covered in streaks of dusty purple lipstick, he returned to his drawing, which was now obviously of a person. He nodded along as he listened to Griffin. “I live in Belleville, and I’m going on my third year here, but I visited twice for summer college programs. I just wanted to help you with your French ‘cause I know lots of French people are really rude to people who don’t speak their language. Especially Americans and British.  And I don’t want someone being an asshole to you just ‘cause you aren’t magically fluent in French. I dunno how much you know about the politics of Europe but I’ve gotten plenty of hatred just for being from Eastern Europe. It’s not quite the same thing but…I still don’t want people doing that to you.” He paused in his drawing again, and took several moments to glance up towards Griffin, before returning to his drawing. “Relative to how other people see ‘well’, absolutely not. Relative to me, it’s…okay, I guess? Certainly not much better but I don’t want to be fired from my job for showing up drunk or high.” He fell silent again, working on his picture–it was a little portrait of Griffin, mostly realistic with a semi-dreamy quality to it. “Brain’s always been a little out of whack. I’m still a work in progress.”

“Thank you,” Griffin told Ilie, because who else had really been so kind as to gradually teach him and show him kindness besides Alissa? Ilie really cared to show him compassion. It touched Griffin. It touched him almost as much as Ilie’s saddened words and beautiful sketch of him did. It broke his heart and mended it all at once. “If...if you ever need someone to turn to when you’re not exactly...okay, I’m here for you. In other news, that drawing is incredible, Ilie. Really.” Scooting his chair to the side, he tried to get a better look at it. “I’m truly impressed.”

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iliefolie:

“Right?” Ilie’s arrival was rather graceful for someone who still had alcohol in his system and had tasked himself with carrying two plates and two steaming cups–a plate balanced on each outstretched arm, and a cup in each hand. “I don’t normally have such decadent things but I guess a little treat is good sometimes.” Carefully he set everything down and sat across from Griffin, taking out the napkins and pen he had stashed in his pocket. “I was a waiter and food runner through most of university, and I turned up to a lot of shifts high or tipsy or hungover, or going through a mental episode or even just going through a medication adjustment, so I got pretty good at it,” he explained, cutting off a piece of his crêpe and directing it to his mouth. “Nutella makes me feel like I’m sinning but Tată says I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.” He snorted and clicked the pen, starting a drawing on a napkin. “What area do you live in? How long have you been in France? Do you have my phone number? I can’t remember. I have an instagram but I mostly post art on it, and I always forget that I hate Twitter, not that anyone would be too interested in reading my Tweets.” He usually wasn’t this talkative when sober, but he also wasn’t so drunk that he was completely embarrassing himself. He occasionally glanced up at Griffin as he talked and sketched.

Griffin was impressed by Ilie’s carrying skills, though he had more intense thoughts on the brain. He probably would have made a comment about it had Ilie not placed the most gorgeous of pastries before him. That, and gone into drawing on napkins. Griffin was impressed. “I’m around Louvre. As for France in general, a few months. I’m sadly not that quick of a learner when it comes to anything not art or photography, so that is why my French doesn’t reflect it.” Griffin chuckled to himself, breaking off a bit of his crêpe. “I don’t have your number, I would love to share my equally-art-filled Instagram with you, and I’ve never been too big on Twitter. Though, I am on it to stalk celebrities. Silly habit, I guess,” he trailed off. Gnawing at his lip, Griffin looked up to Ilie and caught his eye. “You mentioned your time as a waiter. Not to erm...pry or anything, but it sounded pretty rough? Is all well now?”

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henrichimie:

Henri rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to remember what he knew about the different art museums in Brussels. “Mind you, I know some things about art but it isn’t completely my strong suit so if I forget to mention a few things don’t hold it against me. There is a museum dedicated to the modern styles of art though in the main building alongside the museum for ancient art.”

Griffin waved off Henri with a smile. “Don’t worry, I have no clue what’s here to even know what you left out,” he chuckled. “But a modern art museum sounds wonderful. Funny placement next to the ancient art museum, too. Guess you can’t have one without the other.” Pausing, Griffin grabbed a bit more of his pastry. “Here I am focusing this all on me and what I like. What kind of places do you like to visit here, Henri?”

[iliefolie]

@iliefolie: y'all pray for my boy @griffinfischer, ain’t nothing wrong with him, I just want him to succeed and prosper and have happiness.

[griffinfischer-blog]

iliefolie:

Ilie wasn’t drunk enough to not notice something had happened–maybe he had said something wrong. He tilted his head, concerned, and lightly patted Griffin’s back. “Văi ia, băi, băi. I’ll take care of it. You go find us some place to sit, okay?” With another pat, Ilie stepped back up to the counter to complete the order, pulling out his own wallet to pay–he figured it was only polite of him after he’d apparently said something kind of insensitive. He’d learned some useful skills from his dad about reading people–his dad could practically read minds, though it had failed on Ilie in the past–but his brain wasn’t working fast enough right now to figure it out. Was it what he said about coke? Did Griffin know someone affected badly by coke? He didn’t want to push, though, so decided he would just try to deflect for now and talk about other things.

Even though Griffin had said he would pay, he found himself unable to do anything but accept Ilie’s kind words to take care of the tab. He could not think straight enough to do anything other than seek out the nearest empty table and go for it. All he could think about was his past, the way Alissa looked at him in horror when he was high on coke, and the terrible, gruesome dreams he had during withdrawals. It was nearly enough to cost him his appetite. That changed of course when Ilie arrived with the orders. His hungry stomach won over his mind in this instance. “Smells good.”

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iliefolie:

Griffin’s French was met with a discreetly raised eyebrow from the girl at the counter–Americans were so easy to spot–but Ilie nodded along with an encouraging smile. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get there but she understood you! Do you want anything to drink? They’ve got tea, coffees, sparkling water, some sodas… I’m getting a green tea. It’s like crack cocaine for me.” He laughed, but it really did feel like an addiction at times. He’d have green tea, sometimes herbal teas, at work when he couldn’t smoke; and when in a haze or period of serious anxiety or depression, it was always either alcohol or tea that he drowned himself in, not to mention that green tea suppressed his appetite like no other, his dirty little secret. “You could get black tea with cinnamon, it’d go well with the orange. Thé noir à la cannelle.”

Any and all excitement Griffin had at knowing his drink order was at least understood by the girl at the counter was zapped out of him the moment Ilie mentioned cocaine. He knew he meant nothing of it - drug jokes happened, they were common. Colloquial. Griffin was bound to run into them. However, he was not prepared for this instance. Not even in the slightest. The slightly less sober state of his mind did not do anything to help him, either. Swallowing hard, he rubbed at his hands and looked anywhere but at Ilie. “I uh...I’ll go with that. C-Can you order for me? I’m not so sure I’d be so good at it. Q-Quit while I’m ahead, ya’ know?”

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iliefolie:

“I mean, here in France, you’ve probably seen a lot of them as just walk-up counters street food style. The showy element of it makes it feel more exciting I think.” Ilie scooted inside and was greeted by the casual café atmosphere, which he was thankful for–his sense of decorum was a little diminished at the moment so anything better (not that crêperies were very fancy, even the sit-down ones) would have felt inappropriate. He squinted at the menu for a couple of moments, then turned back to Griffin. “If you need help ordering, then, just tell me. I dunno how much of this menu you can read.” Turning again to face the counter, he approached with a polite smile. “Bonsoir, je vous un prie, je voudrais une crêpe à la compote de fraises et Nutella. Et…le thé vert. Merci.” He spun to face Griffin with a smile, though not before snagging a pen off the counter and grabbing several napkins. “Et pour toi?”

Gazing at the menu, Griffin feared that he would need exactly the help that Ilie had offered. He hardly knew all of the orders completely by name. The words all seemed so familiar and yet so utterly confusing. However, he wanted to do this himself. He had to prove it to himself, on some level. “I-I’ve got it.” Letting Ilie go first, he mustered up some courage and tried to make out some words. A little help from an app on his phone, and he decided to give it a go. With a nervous smile, he ordered. “Puis-je avoir une crêpe aux baies avec de la sauce orange si? Merci.” He gazed over at Ilie, hoping he had said what he needed to correctly.

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iliefolie:

He still wasn’t used to opening up to anyone besides his therapist, and even that was still a task. The fact that he couldn’t even remember firsthand the abuse he’d been through just made things a bit worse. He didn’t want to think about that anymore for the night though. He just wanted to have a nice little time with his friend, so he didn’t comment on it again. “That’s fine, that’s fine,” Ilie agreed, waving his hand. “I just don’t like feeling like I’m in debt to someone, ya know? And I like doing things for people too.” Ilie squinted ahead, hoping his vision wasn’t starting to worsen like his father’s had with age. “Pretty much every crêperie I’ve been to makes them to order. Some places, especially in America, do it as a little show, kind of. Not that I want anything complicated that would constitute a show.”

Chuckling, Griffin tried his best to picture what a crêperie putting on a show would be like. He really would not mind it, even if it was like that tonight. A bit of a show could be fun, after all. Much better than the club. “I’ve seen a few of those places. They always are amusing, though I would not mind it either way here. So long as I get my food, I’m good.” Approaching the shop, Griffin held open the door for Ilie and let him walk in. “You can order first, since you’re the veteran crêperie guy. I’d hate to make a fool of myself first and have them refuse you service for knowing me.”

[the1975hqs]

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henrichimie:

“Art, huh. Well… there are a number of places you could go to.” Henri half mused, thinking it over. “Brussels is the capital of Belgium so there are places like the Royal Museums of Fine Arts there as well as the Horta Museum or the Belgian Comic Strip Center. Do any of those sound interesting?”

Both options truly sounded delightful to Griffin. However, he loved the idea of the royal museum. As much as he loved Comics, he was not exactly great in the area of making or photographing them. “Tell me a little more about the Royal Museums. Do you know what kind of art they have there? I’m personally a fan of modern styles, myself,” he mused, a bit shyly.

[griffinfischer-blog]

A Time To Celebrate || Griffin & Alissa

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alissaamor:

It put Alissa in such a good mood to see Griffin again. Even though he hadn’t been himself, she had gotten used to spending all her time with him back when he was sick. She enjoyed taking care of him, knowing that she was needed by him and she especially enjoyed knowing that she was loved by him too. No matter what his surprise for her was, she knew there would be no other way she’d rather spend her birthday. 

“A massage?” she asked, the much shorter girl looking up to his face with a grin, seeing him starting to get slightly embarrassed. “That sounds glorious,” she assured him, “But don’t forget it’s not all about me. We’re celebrating you, too.” Although this was an unusual trait for Alissa, she didn’t want all the focus on herself. That was how her love for Griffin was, that she got just as much joy from giving attention to him as when she received attention from him.

Griffin nodded, starting to grin like the Cheshire cat as they walked forward out of the shop. Her excitement was heavenly to hear, and she did not even know the full scope of his plans yet. He could only imagine what excitement that would bring. “Oh I promise you, it will not be a massage you will ever forget.” He threw in a wink, hopefully exciting her more. “You won’t be able to go to just any old massage place again.”

Raising his brow, Griffin took Alissa’s hand in his. “I know, I know. Just know this as well, my love. We have forever to celebrate me being sober. We only have one day a year to celebrate your birthday. I’m going to spoil the hell out of you any chance I get.” He loved the idea of Alissa treating him to some fun, and he loved knowing that she cared that much about him, but his selflessness had no bounds. “Our lovely hilltop is only a block away from here, actually. What do you think awaits you?”