#jitta

[pretty-little-aesthetics]

jeff and britta are so perfect for one another i wish they were real 💔💔💔

[wingamy24]

old jeffbritta posts are so funny like what the fuck is "jitta" and "BREFF"

[thekracken]

for the soft summer prompts, 13 with Jeff and Britta!!

Britta is all sharp wit, sharp tongue, sharp attitude, but there’s something that calls out at Jeff like a beacon home.

Watching the sun rise/set

Jeff knows Britta. 

He thinks he knows her better than most people do. (He thinks she knows him better than most people do, too, but he’ll never admit it). 

He’s seen every version of Britta that exists: the bright-eyed student who just wants to do well, the rebel with wild energy and nowhere to direct it, the disappointing daughter that just wants to make someone proud; the Britta that smiles sleepily and openly, the Britta that crosses her arms with sharp looks of disapproval, the Britta that tilts her head just a little when she sees something she wants. 

He knows the stupid little facts about her that don’t matter. 

He knows that when she was thirteen, her oldest brother told her not to climb the tree in the backyard and she snuck away, climbed it, and broke her arm. He knows that when she moved to New York she lived in the back of her car for two months until she met up with a girl on Craigslist who was trying to steal her kidneys. (Or maybe she wasn’t, but she definitely stole the small George Forman grill Britta found at a garage sale). He knows that she tried to give up coffee and drink tea, because she saw a documentary on how rainforests are being chopped down to harvest the bean, but it doesn’t help her focus like coffee does and she hates herself a little for that. (He knows that if he buys her coffee then it helps alleviate that guilt a little; so really, remembering how she takes her coffee is helping her and has nothing to do with the smile she gives him when he sets it down in front of her or the way his chest gets tight at the sight of it). 

He knows the stupid little facts about her that do matter. 

When she was eleven her parents had her drug tested because of the way she experienced happiness, so she learnt to swallow her laughter. When she was in high school she watched a documentary about food farms and decided she’d never eat meat again. (Her parents didn’t support her decision and for two years she existed on peanut butter sandwiches and various vegetables until she could afford to buy her own food). 

Jeff knows Britta has two married parents, two older brothers, and a group of self-proclaimed vigilante friends, but she’s always been alone. He knows she hates this. 

He knows when she lived in New York she started running because she was afraid to walk home alone at night. He knows that habit followed her across the country to California, down to New Mexico, over to Michigan, and back to Colorado. He knows she hates the fact that she’s ever scared. 

Britta is all sharp wit, sharp tongue, sharp attitude, but there’s something that calls out at Jeff like a beacon home.

And so it’s no one’s business if he buys her coffee every Monday and Wednesday and the morning of exams, if he goes out of his way to make snarky comments and facial expressions to make her snort in amusement, if he buys her an expensive, funny looking tofu dish when he goes off campus to get lunch.

If, sometimes, he hangs out at The Vatican until the bar closes so he can walk Britta to her car, it’s absolutely no one’s business. 

----

“Last call,” Britta says, wiping the counter down with a rag like she’s in a movie. Abed would appreciate the moment and not for the first time, Jeff wishes he were here. Jeff grabs his glass and quickly downs the remains of his drink and she takes it from him with a smile. “Don’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here.” 

They’re the only two at the bar, a few stragglers are making out in the booths and Jeff spins in his seat, watching Britta move across the room and tap on the table, shooing them out. The door clicks shut once they exit and Jeff stands, blinking past the way the room tilts, and moves to lock the door. It’s become such a regular occurrence, Britta doesn’t even acknowledge it anymore. He tidies up the floor lazily; straightening chairs and centering the candles on the table until Britta’s finished with her closing chores. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says once she’s emerged from the back, like usual, a beaming smile overtaking her face. Jeff blames the scotch for the warmth that fills his belly at the sight. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t do much.” He looks away and can feel the weight of her gaze on him. He wishes there were more people here, wishes the music was still playing over the speakers, wishes he couldn’t hear his own heart racing in his chest, wishes he’d drank a little more or a little less because the buzz he’s feeling right now is encouraging him to do something dangerous and he’s finding less and less reason not to give in. 

Britta moves first and Jeff’s heart leaps in his throat, but she just moves past him, her hand grazing his arm and he unfreezes, moving beside her and resting his hand on her lower back as they move through the door. The heat swallows them as the door shuts with a click and Jeff lets his hand fall; if it were colder he’d have a myriad of excuses to grab her, tuck her against his side and walk with her pressed against him, but the heat is stifling enough as it is and he can’t think of any excuse to put his arm around her shoulders. 

Their cars are parked together in the back of the lot and Jeff glances around the empty lot, checking for anything unusual. His eyes are drawn to the top of Britta’s head and he wants to be close enough to lean down and kiss the mess of hair there. 

“Y’know,” Britta says abruptly when they get to their cars. She presses her hands against Jeff’s chest and his breath catches. 

“I don’t want to go home,” he interrupts and her head tilts just barely to the side. 

“Me either.” 

----

They end up laying on the hood of her car, watching the night sky. The metal’s warm and the breeze is warm, but Jeff still extends his arm for Britta to rest her head on. He knows they’ll be sore; his back will ache and he’ll probably have a headache until he catches up on the sleep he misses, but that doesn’t really matter right now, not when he can’t stop looking at the way the moon lights up Britta’s profile. The small curve of her nose, the sharp angles of her cheekbones and jawline. He wants to lean down and press his lips at her jaw, but that would involve shifting and moving her off his arm and it feels wrong to move from her side.

They spend a long time in silence, watching the stars move across the sky and occasionally jumping, then laughing, when a bug startles them. 

Britta’s quiet and still, her breathing is steady enough that Jeff wonders if she’s fallen asleep and his own eyes feel heavy in the warm summer air. It feels right, having Britta stretched out at his side and if he shifted, just a little, he could run his fingers through her hair. 

The sky slowly goes from black to dark blue to grey. 

“Would you ever go to space?” Britta asks eventually, jolting Jeff in surprise. Her voice is deep and rough with sleep and Jeff wants to say yes, wants to be the kind of guy that would accept the thrills and dangers of space travel without hesitation. 

“I’ve never even left Colorado.” The admission escapes him without thought and he feels Britta look at him, her hair making the crook of his arm itchy. 

“Never?”

He wants to lie and say he was joking, say gosh Britta you’ll believe anything. Instead, “never,” slips out. “My mom couldn’t afford to take us on vacation and then I never had enough money of my own until I was at the law firm and well,” old Jeff would have said now I’m stuck here; Jeff finishes, “why would I want to leave.” 

Britta shifts to lay on her side and Jeff can see the discomfort pull at her face before it softens again when she looks up at him. 

“We could go somewhere.” The words come out a whisper, like if she said them soft enough she might be able to take them back. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Maybe the east coast, drive across the country.” 

Jeff thinks of how uncomfortable driving across the country would be; thinks of the gross rest-area bathrooms, of the mediocre fast food, and of the lumpy roadside motel beds. Then he thinks of being able to see Britta relaxed with her feet on the dash, with the wind blowing through her hair as they drive down the highway, waking up with the worst bedhead possible, laughing over a wilted salad. 

“Okay.” 

The sky erupts in golden pink streaks of light. It stretches across them, bathing her in gold and he can’t stop himself from leaning down to kiss her, long and slow and he can feel her smile against his lips. When he pulls back, an answering smile on his face, he feels golden inside. 

“But we’re taking my car,” he says and she rolls her eyes with a huff of laughter, curling into his side and resting her head on his chest. He folds his arm to hold her closer to him. “I’m serious. If we take your car we’ll end up broken on the side of the road before we leave the city.” 

“Shut up,” she says nudging him. He shrugs in defense and she smiles into his chest. 

“Fine, we’ll take your car.” 

The sky turns from pink to blue. 

[jittaontheart-blog]

The Darkside

[ftnbooks-blog]

Rudi Fuchs was the admirer and curator who convinced Donald Judd to have a large retrospective at the van Abbemuseum. Judd had his entrance into the dutch Museum scene with Enno Develing who had organized, with all important minimal art artists, exhibitions at the Gemeentemuseum Den Haag in the Sixties . Judd was one of them and since the popularity of Minimal Art in the Netherlands grew steadily. The van Abbemuseum made an exhibition with Judd in 1987, after which exhibitions another one with Judd, Fuchs and Jitta was held on the prints by Donald Judd at the Gemeentemuseum. It was one of the last exhibitions Rudi Fuchs curated for the van Abbemuseum before he switched to the Gemeentemuseum as a director and made this print exhibition. Fuchs was a great fan, because together with the print exhibition he ordered furniture, desks and even a complete parquet floor all done by Judd of which only the floor remains at the Escher Museum at the Paleis Lange Voorhout location. The rest “disappeared” , was damaged,  or was sold during the last 2 decades.

The blog is to point out that this is an important catalogue which is now available at www.ftn-books.com together with some other publications. As mentioned …Enno Develing wast the first European curator who presented the Minimal Art movement and his artists at the Gemeentemuseum Den Haag. Here is the extremely important catalogue of this exhibition which i gladly make available for my readers. Click the MINIMAL ART link below and read the PDF version of this rare and very important catalogue.

MINIMAL ART

  Donald Judd at the van Abbemuseum Rudi Fuchs was the admirer and curator who convinced Donald Judd to have a large retrospective at the van Abbemuseum.

[viralblognet-blog]

How Jitta On The Track Carves A New Path By Combining Art And Hip-Hop

How Jitta On The Track Carves A New Path By Combining Art And Hip-Hop

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Jitta On The Track

On a rubber-melting day close to the tip of summer season, I power to North Hollywood, Los Angeles to take a seat down with Jitta at the Track. Jitta — whose title comes from the southern time period “Jit” (used to confer with a small kid) — is a Florida-born skill who grew up in Connecticut. Now he’s in LA, the land of the multi-hyphenates, sharing his two largest…

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[vivitawin]

#กองจิต มอบ 'หุ้นพรสวรรค์' ให้เป็น 'ของขวัญ' 🤣 #GIFT form #Jitta (at Central Plaza Lardprao - เซ็นทรัลพลาซา ลาดพร้าว)

[elliottsears]

(Jitta On The Track) drops a dope new record titled Shame the Devil and its featuring one of my favorite artist SKYXXX - NY to Cali - Catch it, E.