Went shopping for a new handbag. Knew very little in advance about the fashionist faiblesse for certain designer bags and purses, but the first thing I found (in the first shop) that looked like something I could use – the grey-black bag I went back to buy after I had looked at all possible solutions of the carry-around-things problem in a couple of other stores – turned out to be a look-alike copy of the bag ‘everyone’ is said to desire most of all these days, according to the fashion journalists – a Mulberry Roxanne. When I found out (through a little googling and a little magazine reading), it was embarrassing. Am I that easily fooled, so I subconsciously remember a picture of a nice bag in an article I obviously read some months ago without paying attention (fashion has never been an interest of mine)? I can’t remember having seen anyone in my little corner of the world carry something that resembles this design.
Category Archives: life
Fireworks and ferries
I am watching the dark sea and the horizon. Soon the fireworks will explode everywhere – in the village, and across the water. Other lights in this dark winter evening are coming from the ferries – huge vessels slowly and almost silently moving half-hidden behind the nearest islands.
I wish all readers a Happy New Year 2006!
Christmas, and other beautiful myths
Wishing you a peaceful and happy holiday!
Hysterical bird
Found a little blue-tit fluttering around in the bedroom when I came home. I have heard something making noises in the ventilator in the outer wall some nights the last weeks, but was unsure if it was a dry leaf, a bird, or a mouse. Now it got out by its own efforts, so I know. Out in the room; out of the window.
Advent Sunday coming. I hope the lamps and wirings in the window star and the electrical candles for the window sills are functional. Time for gingerbread and hot wine. And my usual three-day-long search for the perfect Christmas cards to send, now that decorations and cards for the season are out in all shops.
First snow
Frost and snow. Nothing to write about. Last night I finished and published two pages of a piano piece I had planned to do something more than my usual miniature style of. But it just wanted to end there:
Lady M pays a visit to a painter
After finishing that (the first inspired composing period for months) I have still a dozen books to read, cd’s to listen to, other people’s music to comment on, a diary and a novel to write, some “commisioned” music I have no idea how to start on (or if it matter at all to spend time on), and a house to clean and shirts to iron, and sewing projects, and more music to write and revise and prepare parts for, and I just sit here…
Totally aestethic and healthy
What is art? Is it an attitude or a life-style? Or, is it a necessary expression of human experience? Something that can hurt as much as it can heal? How much is personal in artistical expression – and to which limits can an artist’s control over his soul, body and environment be extended? Does the art need to be centered around the artist’s ego, and reflected in the things surrounding her in her life world?
My questions were provoked by a recent visit to a local artist’s studio and home, after I had decided to become more involved in the visual arts, and in the things going on in my neighbourhood, and learn more about painting – something I haven’t tried since school. Maybe that decision was a reaction after I heard some weeks ago about the death of a distant relative – a great painter and wonderful person. I suddenly realized that I had missed the chance to discuss art, life and music (he was also a jazz pianist) with him on the occasions when we have met through the years. It was just the usual social talk, and I always let others ask their naive questions about his pictures, and be content with the obvious answers. There must have been so much more things I could have learned from him. Now I have to learn it on my own (as we all have to, more or less).
So, now I wonder a lot about the mentality of artists, and what they are doing to stay healthy and/or creative. Some work in chaos; others in order. Some live in a mess; other live in a totally aesthetic perfection. My relative was much for order in his studio (and in his entomological collection), but the home decoration (mostly by his artistic wife) was never over-whelmingly perfect; and their focus was not on the methods to get a long and healthy life.
Success can be dangerous, so it takes some modesty and maturity to handle…
The normal state of the art(ist)
The frozen leaves –
if you are in the creative soul’s hell, you will see them:
all the mis-told stories, all pathetic poems, all the letters you wrote, all diary pages, all the lecture notes, grocery lists, excuses to your children’s teachers, silly postcards, and – all the music –
cold, still, looking strange, wrong, handled with or without care, and then re-sent – deep frozen.
(Our hell isn’t a warm place. We call it Nifelheim.)
Introduction
Welcome to a new blog. More info later.