art

All about women in the art world; famous female artists and subjects, and artwork with a feminist perspective.

Nicole Kidman: The Shining Star of Hollywood
Nicole Kidman: The Shining Star of Hollywood *Nicole Kidman's Early Life* Nicole Kidman was born on June 20, 1967, in Honolulu, Hawaii, USA. Her mother, Janet Marie, was a nursing instructor, and her father, Anthony David Kidman, was a clinical psychologist and biochemist. Nicole grew up in a middle-class family and moved to Sydney, Australia with her family when she was four years old. *Nicole Kidman's Education* Nicole attended North Sydney Girls' High School and then enrolled in the Australian Theatre for Young People. She began her acting career at a young age, appearing in several commercials and short films. *The Beginning of Nicole Kidman's Acting Career* Nicole Kidman started her acting career in the 1980s, appearing in films such as "Bush Christmas" and "BMX Bandits". However, she didn't land a leading role until 1989 in the film "Dead Calm", which she starred in alongside Sam Neill.
By America today about a year ago in Viva
The Viva That Changed Everything
M Mehran he exam hall smelled of polished wood, nervous sweat, and the faint trace of chalk dust. For weeks, Ayesha Khan had buried herself in textbooks, notes, and past papers, yet now, sitting in the stiff wooden chair, she felt the familiar grip of panic squeezing her chest. Today was the day of her final viva, the oral exam that could determine whether she graduated at the top of her class or stumbled into mediocrity. Ayesha wasn’t just nervous—she was terrified. Oral exams were different. Written tests could be revised, errors erased. A viva demanded presence, confidence, and instant answers. No hiding behind paper, no correcting mistakes silently. Every word, every pause, every nervous glance mattered. As she waited, she watched the others. Some sat with calm smiles, flipping through their notes as if they owned the room. Others tapped pens nervously, whispered reassurances to themselves. Ayesha drew a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside. She reminded herself: knowledge was one thing; confidence was another. Today, she had to master both. When her name was called, her legs trembled as she stepped forward. The examiners, three professors known for their stern reputations, nodded politely but gave no indication of warmth. The first question hit like a sudden gust of wind: “Explain the significance of your thesis in the context of current research.” Ayesha’s mind raced. She had memorized definitions, formulas, case studies—but putting it all together, articulating it clearly under scrutiny, was another matter. She swallowed hard, forced herself to speak: “My research examines the impact of renewable energy adoption in urban environments, highlighting both economic and environmental benefits. In the context of current studies, it bridges the gap between theoretical models and practical implementation strategies, offering actionable insights for policymakers.” Silence followed. Then, the second examiner leaned forward. “Can you justify your methodology? Why did you choose these specific parameters?” Ayesha felt the sweat on her palms. She repeated the rehearsed explanation, but halfway through, the words stumbled. She faltered, and for a moment, panic threatened to overtake her. She wanted to apologize, to start over—but then she remembered something her mentor had told her: “A viva is not about perfection. It’s about clarity and honesty. If you don’t know, explain your reasoning.” Taking a steadying breath, she adjusted her tone. “While these parameters may seem limited, they were selected to isolate variables that could most accurately reflect urban energy consumption. I considered alternatives, but constraints in data availability guided this choice. Here, I discuss potential limitations and how future research could address them…” She paused, scanning the faces of the professors. Something shifted. Instead of stern judgment, she saw curiosity. The questions became less about trapping her and more about discussion. Slowly, she realized the viva wasn’t an enemy—it was a conversation, an opportunity to share what she had learned. As the exam continued, Ayesha found her rhythm. When a particularly tricky question on statistical modeling arose, she paused, smiled faintly, and walked the examiners through her reasoning, step by step. She admitted where assumptions were made, where results might vary. By the end, the room felt less like a battlefield and more like a workshop, each question a tool to refine her ideas rather than a weapon to expose flaws. When the viva finally concluded, the examiners nodded, scribbled a few notes, and dismissed her with a polite, “Thank you.” She stepped out into the hallway, heart still racing, palms still damp—but a smile was slowly spreading across her face. She had survived. More than that, she had learned something invaluable: the viva was never just a test of knowledge—it was a test of courage, composure, and the ability to communicate under pressure. Weeks later, when the results were announced, Ayesha saw her name at the top of the list. She had not only passed; she had excelled. But even beyond the grades, the viva had changed something in her. She no longer feared speaking up in class, presenting ideas, or defending her research. She had faced the ultimate challenge of her academic journey and emerged stronger, more confident, and ready for the next stage of her life. The experience taught her a universal lesson: life, much like a viva, is unpredictable and demanding. It will ask questions we aren’t always prepared for. It will test our patience, our knowledge, and our resolve. But courage doesn’t mean having all the answers—it means facing uncertainty, reasoning clearly, and trusting in one’s preparation and judgment. And so, the viva, a moment that had once seemed terrifying, became a turning point. Ayesha walked away not just with a grade, but with a story of resilience, a story that reminded her—and everyone who hears it—that true success is as much about composure under pressure as it is about what you know. For anyone sitting in a chair, waiting for their name to be called, the lesson is clear: breathe, think, and speak with honesty. Because the viva, like life itself, rewards those who face it bravely.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a year ago in Viva
The Day of the Viva
M Mehran Arham had always been a good student, but the word viva carried a special kind of fear for him. Written exams, he could handle. Multiple choice? Essays? No problem. But facing a professor across a table, answering questions with nothing but his mind and voice—there was something about it that turned his confidence into quicksand. The night before his final-year viva, he didn’t sleep. He sat at his desk, flipping through notes and highlighting lines that blurred together. Every fact seemed to slip through his memory like water through cupped hands. At three in the morning, he closed his books and whispered to himself: “You either know it, or you don’t. Just survive tomorrow.” --- The Waiting Room The next day, he joined his classmates outside the examination hall. The room buzzed with nervous laughter and whispered recitations. Some students paced back and forth, mumbling definitions. Others sat silently, staring into space as though rehearsing answers in their heads. Arham tried to look calm, but his leg wouldn’t stop shaking. His best friend nudged him. “Relax,” she whispered. “They’re not here to destroy us.” But that wasn’t true. Professors loved the viva because it revealed who had merely memorized and who had truly understood. For students, it felt like stepping into an arena with no shield. One by one, names were called. Students went in, some emerging pale and shaken, others smiling in relief. Arham’s turn crept closer, and with it, the pounding of his heart. --- Facing the Panel Finally, the examiner called: “Arham.” He stood, smoothed his shirt, and walked into the room. Three professors sat behind a table, notebooks open, expressions unreadable. The atmosphere was heavy, the silence stretching just long enough to unnerve him. “Good morning,” he said, his voice thinner than he wanted. “Good morning,” replied the head examiner. She adjusted her glasses and looked straight at him. “Let’s begin.” The first question was easy, almost too easy. Arham answered quickly, his rehearsed lines flowing. He felt a spark of hope—maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Then came the second question. A twist. Something buried deep in the syllabus that he had skimmed once, weeks ago. His throat went dry. He tried to recall the exact wording from his notes, but the memory slipped. He stammered, piecing together fragments. The professors exchanged glances. “Think carefully,” the examiner said. Arham’s palms sweated. He forced himself to take a breath. Instead of panicking, he spoke honestly: “I don’t remember the exact definition, but here’s how I understand the concept…” He explained it in his own words, connecting it to real-life examples. To his surprise, the examiner nodded. “Better,” she said. “Go on.” --- The Turning Point As the viva continued, Arham realized something important: this wasn’t a firing squad. It was a conversation. The professors weren’t trying to fail him—they wanted to see if he could think. The more he shifted from memorized answers to genuine reasoning, the calmer he became. He leaned into his explanations, using his hands to gesture, his voice steadying. When they challenged him, he pushed back with logic. When he didn’t know something, he admitted it and tried to analyze anyway. Minutes stretched into half an hour. At the end, the head examiner smiled faintly. “Thank you, Arham. That will be all.” He walked out, his knees weak, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief. --- Aftermath In the hallway, his classmates swarmed him. “What did they ask? Were they strict? Did you answer everything?” Arham shrugged. “They weren’t easy, but… it wasn’t as terrifying as I thought.” Later that week, when the results were posted, he had passed. Not with the highest marks, but with enough to feel proud. --- The Lesson of the Viva Looking back, Arham realized the viva had taught him more than any textbook. It wasn’t about definitions or memorized paragraphs—it was about confidence, adaptability, and honesty. Life itself, he thought, is one long viva. We’re constantly questioned—by circumstances, by challenges, by other people. Rarely do we get to prepare our answers in advance. More often, we’re thrown into situations where we must think on our feet, admit what we don’t know, and reason our way through. The viva had stripped away his crutches and forced him to trust his own mind. And that, he realized, was the real test. --- Closing Thoughts The fear of the viva never disappears completely. Even years later, when Arham sat in job interviews or gave presentations at work, he felt a flicker of that same nervousness. But now, instead of freezing, he remembered that day in the exam hall—the moment he stopped performing and started thinking. And every time he faced a new challenge, he reminded himself: Life keeps asking questions. Your job is not to know everything—it’s to answer with courage.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a year ago in Viva
Critical Notes on Life’s Peculiar Circus. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Life, in its infinite generosity, insists on giving us problems the way a deranged clown tosses cream pies: one after another, straight in the face, without explanation, and with a grin so grotesque it borders on divine. People say that problems make us stronger, though no one has ever explained why strength should be such a desirable state. After all, the strongest creatures on this planet are cockroaches, who can supposedly outlive nuclear winters. And yet no one erects monuments to them, nor do they get motivational posters. Humanity celebrates strength while quietly hoping never to need it—like buying a fire extinguisher and praying it will remain untouched, collecting dust and guilt in the corner. The truly absurd part is that most of our problems are manufactured by ourselves, in the grand tradition of self-sabotage that seems written into our genetic code. We invent money, then agonize over not having enough of it. We devise governments, then complain about their corruption as if corruption were some unexpected side effect rather than the natural flavor of power itself. We create gods, then tremble before them, puzzled when these gods resemble suspiciously tyrannical landlords. If an alien anthropologist were to visit Earth, their report would simply read: “The species generates puzzles for itself and then suffers indignantly when it cannot solve them.” There is a cruel irony in how the most pressing human problems are often invisible, unmeasurable, and almost certainly unsolvable. Loneliness, for example, is not counted on GDP charts. You cannot measure despair in liters, nor can you weigh meaninglessness on a kitchen scale. And yet these intangible torments drive people more effectively than hunger or cold. A man with an empty stomach may survive; a man with an empty sense of purpose may very well pull the plug himself. That is life’s joke: it demands that we continue breathing in a universe that can’t even bother to provide subtitles. The advice culture, of course, makes everything worse. Everywhere one turns, there are instructions for “happiness.” Ten steps, five hacks, three spiritual rituals involving Himalayan salt and goat yoga. They tell you to think positively, which is essentially like telling someone with a bullet wound to imagine rainbows instead of calling an ambulance. Positivity is not a cure; it is a sedative. We are encouraged to meditate while standing on metaphorical burning buildings. And when that fails, society simply says, “Well, you didn’t try hard enough.” The blame shifts neatly back to the sufferer, who is conveniently too exhausted to protest. Love, the great intoxicant, is another cosmic prank. People chase it as though it were oxygen, and perhaps it is, but oxygen at least does not abandon you after a heated argument over dirty dishes. Love promises transcendence but delivers paperwork, jealousy, and someone else’s snoring. It is a contract written in invisible ink, always expiring at the worst moment. And yet, absurdly, we return to it, again and again, as moths to a lamp that burns them every time. Perhaps we return because the alternative—solitary existence—is simply too humiliating to admit. To die alone is the greatest modern horror, which is laughable, considering everyone dies alone anyway, no matter how many clasped hands surround the bed. Then there is work: the great charade of productivity. We devote decades to filling forms, typing emails, stacking boxes, pushing digital numbers around like children playing with sandcastles that the tide erases. Work is presented as noble, when in fact it is a polite way of saying that without constant distraction, people would notice how futile existence really is. Capitalism, in its brilliance, has managed to turn despair into an economy. The fact that many spend more hours in fluorescent offices than under natural sunlight is proof enough of humanity’s submission to its own inventions. One wonders if future historians—if there are any left—will marvel not at our wars or technology, but at our willingness to sacrifice entire lifetimes to tasks whose memory dies the moment we retire. As for morality, it is perhaps the most absurd invention of all. Each culture scribbles a different rulebook, then insists theirs is the universal edition. Murder is wrong—except in war. Theft is wrong—unless conducted by corporations through loopholes. Lying is wrong—unless you’re a politician, a parent calming a child, or someone on a first date. What we call morality is merely convenience wrapped in poetry, a flexible code written by winners to keep losers in line. And yet, without morality, civilization collapses into teeth and claws. It is the ultimate absurdity: humanity trapped between rules it doesn’t believe and chaos it cannot survive. Death, naturally, is the only reliable solution, the full stop at the end of life’s nonsensical sentence. Yet it is the one subject that society avoids, as if refusing to mention it will make it vanish. Funerals are performed with mechanical solemnity, but no one truly believes the scripted platitudes. “They’re in a better place,” people whisper, as though eternity were a holiday resort with good weather. The reality is simpler: decomposition. Ashes, worms, and silence. The only mercy is that the dead no longer need to endure motivational seminars or office meetings. And so we continue, marching forward, inventing meaning as fast as it dissolves, clinging to illusions with white-knuckled determination. Cynicism, contrary to popular opinion, is not despair but clarity—the recognition that life is a play performed without a script, in which the actors argue over costumes while the stage itself burns. The absurdity lies not in the fire, but in the fact that the audience applauds anyway, too terrified to admit the show was never worth attending. In the end, perhaps the only sane response is laughter—not the joyous kind, but the sharp, bitter laughter of someone who has seen the machinery backstage and knows the whole thing is powered by rust and duct tape. To laugh is to admit defeat with style, to transform the unbearable into something momentarily tolerable. Because if life insists on being ridiculous, the least we can do is join the comedy troupe, smearing greasepaint across our faces as the curtain falls.
By Suciptoabout a year ago in Viva
Braids, Pride & Power: How Joetta Dugbo’s Independence Day Hairstyle Went Viral and Honored Liberia’s Legacy
In the world of creative expression, few can braid culture, art, and identity into a single vision the way Joetta Dugbo , known widely as Queen Jo, can. A self-taught hairstylist, fashion design graduate, body art visionary, and rising podcaster, Queen Jo wears many crowns. But this past July 26, she added another jewel to her collection with a bold and symbolic hairstyle that went viral across social media in celebration of Liberia’s Independence Day.
By NWO SPARROWabout a year ago in Viva
The Songstress Who Guarded a Will
She had a voice that could quiet thunder.A presence that made you want to sit straighter, speak kinder, listen deeper.In real life, she was a songstress.In fiction, she was a guardian of fate.
By Black Vanillaabout a year ago in Viva
5 African Superstitions I Grew Up Believing — And What They Really Mean
Growing up in an African household means you don’t just inherit your family name—you inherit their beliefs, taboos, myths, and stories. Some of them are heartwarming. Others are downright terrifying. But one thing is for sure: they shape the way you see the world.
By Abdushakur Mrishoabout a year ago in Viva
Where Silence Speaks: Finding Peace Among the Trees
Where Silence Speaks: Finding Peace Among the Trees In the quiet embrace of the forest, every rustle and ray of light tells a story of calm, healing, and timeless beauty.
By Dr Zaland hameedabout a year ago in Viva
Let's Burlesque Podcast
Burlesque is an art form that has been around for nearly 200 years. Although its popularity has wavered in recent generations, it still thrives throughout the U.S. One person actively working with reviving Burlesque is podcaster, burlesque dancer, Instructor, Cosmetologist, and Trichologist Megan Bay.
By Frank Racioppiabout a year ago in Viva
Is Beauty Realistic? – How Different Cultures Rate Beauty
Learn about the most important standards of beauty throughout history and across cultures. However, we can say that beauty standards vary according to the era. There are also some factors and requirements that greatly influence people's concepts regarding the ability to determine the characteristics of beauty and ugliness. Among the most important and prominent beauty requirements that have become common recently are long, soft hair, a well-proportioned body, and perfect teeth.
By Uchenna Cosmas Nwokafor about a year ago in Viva
Top 7 Films Like Mission: Impossible – Action, Espionage, and Unforgettable Thrills.
Introduction: Why We Love “Mission: Impossible” The Mission: Impossible film series has been a hallmark of the action-spy genre ever since its 1996 release. It combines jaw-dropping stunts, intricate espionage plots, and the enticing charisma of Tom Cruise as Ethan Hunt. The perfect blend of globe-trotting intrigue, elite secret agents, double-crosses, and high-octane action scenes draws audiences to these films. But what happens when you’ve binge-watched the entire series and crave more?
By Krypton about a year ago in Viva
The 5 Most Favorite Batman Actors of All Time: A Deep Dive into the Legends Behind the Cowl.
Introduction: The Everlasting Legacy of the Dark Knight Batman, created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger in 1939, has remained one of the most iconic and enduring superheroes in pop culture. With his brooding personality, unmatched detective skills, and moral complexity, Batman has inspired countless comic books, television shows, and films. But it’s the actors who have donned the cape and cowl that have left a lasting impression on audiences worldwide.
By Krypton about a year ago in Viva