Saturday, 31 December 2011
the closeness of friends
the growing-pains of moving forward
the stiffness of neck of desk-bound work
the excitement of each new project
the bliss of doing nothing, in the sun
the joy of shared meals
the challenge of seeing and recording
the need for rest
the taking of breath
the looking forward to things unforeseeable
here's to good-byeing an eventful year--
thank you so much for keeping me company, in so many different ways,
and see you in 2012!
(p.s.: the pics were not taken at my house, we had breakfast at my friends' most beautiful place.)
Thursday, 22 December 2011
christmas dinner with friends from the bookshop was so wonderfully good. m and k had us round at their place, like before, and i wish i had taken another roll of film.
now it's only such a little while to christmas, and the list of things to do, errands to run, must-not-forgets, is so, so, so long. i wonder whether there is a correlation between increasing age and decreasing prepared-ness. but i bet you are all totally on top of things. right?
well, i'm off for a little while then - spending christmas with friends in berlin, and very much looking forward to the quietness 'between the years'.
so, everyone who is celebrating: merry merry, friends!
(the little poem on the slip of paper up there reads: 'i know not every wish comes true, but i continue wishing, for it is wonderful')
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
a visit to the indie art book fair "miss read" at KW berlin (institute for contemporary art) was one of the most inspiring things recently. so much goodness! two things i liked very much: hard copy, an initiative by the geneva university of art and design, and the motto bookshop in berlin.
later today, i will meet renée who is town for a brief visit. so looking forward!
and, you know what, today might just be the day i'm treating myself to a roll of fuji provia 400.
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
dear santa, could i have a medium format camera please. if asking for a hasselblad is too presumptuous, perhaps a zenza bronica; in any case, a single lens reflex would be ace. i have a feeling though you might send me a letter saying 'why don't you get one yourself, girl'. i will consider it. overall it seems that i have been a so-so girl this year, and while i understand this might result in some sanctions, i would appreciate if those affected the material side of things only. i'm planning on having good times with friends, involving an impressive tree and plenty of cooking. which, come to think of it, i'd rather have than a medium format camera.
p.s.: a little time travel back to france. but i digress. what's on your wishlist?
p.p.s.: perhaps the irony of my above statement wasn't blatant enough. i most definitely don't expect a medium format camera from santa, we are not in the habit of passing around big presents, it's more about small gestures. but i'm saving up so i can buy one, next year perhaps. ;)
Sunday, 11 December 2011
back in early november, after the first frost. it was the last day at the garden. many communal gardeners had long stopped coming, and it seemed as if the vast field was eagerly claiming back its ground after the last romantic urban part-time agrarophiles had finally gone home.
happy second of advent (if you are celebrating). this year, i'm lighting candles on a branch found in the woods. i have some, if by far not all christmas presents, but today shall be as quiet as can be. back into the frenzy of work to be completed, and things to be thought of tomorrow.
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Friday, 18 November 2011
first, you are amazing, thank you so much for your feedback on my last post, i was really quite stunned by all the love. wow. thank you. the praktica says thank you, too. she'll get out more often now.
november is a month i didn't use to like very much. grey. very often rainy in these parts. and cold. but this year i like it: the crisp, cool air on my face when i'm riding my bike, the misty days, the mood of 'yes, we are definitely in between autumn and winter'. november has got a certain magic this year, and i like it.
by the way, i think i need a scanner. i love the people at my lab, they are super friendly, but the scans very often have dust specks, contrast is not good etc. i need a scanner that's mac compatible though. any recommendations?
the light above is from kolor. oh, and i like this calendar.
Sunday, 13 November 2011
november so far has brought mysterious fog, cold air and sunny days too. i like the mist in the trees.
there is so much going on at the moment that i have to be a bit easier on myself. and that's why 'five words' will have to go on a little break.
i'm aware that i'm turning almost monosyllabic when there's too much preoccupying me. but there'll be other times, promise.
wishing you a good sunday and a kind start to the new week.
(i've taken out the old praktica. the viewfinder is very dark and it's all manual, but i like using it again.)
Friday, 11 November 2011
only a few days left, then the season of the garden is over. the communal field will be closed and the patches will be ploughed up. we will go one last time and harvest what we can. we will probably have some leeks, some more swiss chard, winter lettuce, onions. perhaps some more cabbage. i will miss the garden, but now it has gotten colder, i probably wouldn't cycle out. goodbye garden, it has been a good season!
what's your favourite vegetable or dish of the season?
(these photos were taken five weeks ago.)
Monday, 7 November 2011
Saturday, 5 November 2011
I live by the ocean. Before, I lived in the big city. The tall buildings, the relentless lights, the drone of the machines, the ones we use to move in, the ones we use to facilitate our routines, the ones we use to feed us, to clean us. The constant hum of conversations. The shouts and screeches. The absence of solitude. The imperiousness of the moment. The compulsion of success. I breathed the city, its fabric was me.
That was a long time ago. Now I live by the ocean.
I live by the ocean.
thank you, suzie
please feel free to comment on my five words, be it on something that surprised you, something you missed or something that puzzled you. your feedback would be so interesting to me. perhaps one question to start with: does it bother you that some instalments are longer and others are shorter?
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
i was wondering why i rather rarely post images that are recognisably berlin. i think it is because i am easily bored with clichées of this city. but of course, i would happily snap the eiffel tower when in paris. although, when in london, i never photographed red buses or the tower bridge either. so maybe no eiffel tower? anyway, i took these a while ago, the first two in 2011, the bottom two in 2009 and somehow, they are berlin to me.
on a different note: for a while now, i have felt that the subjects that interest me are fundamentally changing, that my general aesthetic is somehow taking different turns. it is a bit unsettling, but i'll just have to wait what evolves. it's possibly going to be less images hereabouts, for a while. i'm not sure. wish i could tell you.
but i'm hoping that you are hanging in there.
would you tell me what you are up to and what you're mulling over these days, as the seasons change again?
Saturday, 29 October 2011
It’s a fine line between spending time in one’s own company, contentedly, and loneliness. Johan had never understood why some of his neighbours seemed to pity him: Perhaps they were the sort to feel an unbearable sense of forlornness as soon as a day, or a stretch of hours announced themselves free of engagements. Not him. Sometimes he positively looked forward to days that were left entirely to himself. So when he got up that saturday morning in late summer, so late in summer, in fact, you would probably have to consider calling it another season, he left bed with a lightness of spirit and the hint of a smile. The apartment was small, but familiar. He had been living here since 1964, when the blocks had just been built at the edge of a big square. The trains were going past in regular intervals, he could hear their rumbling progress and the occasional screeching of metal on metal when it hit the curve just before the station. It had become a comforting sound. He put his rucksack on the brown and green corderoy sofa to pack it. It was big, just what he needed today. He double-wrapped everything in plastic bags before he carefully stored it, checking every now and again whether he could still lift the bag. It wasn’t too bad, he could walk slowly and take a break if needed. Before he left, he made sure all windows were shut, the fridge was empty of any easily decomposable food and everything had the air of general tidyness. In the narrow corridor to the lifts he ran into his next-door neighbour. No more than a quick „Morning!“ that day. Well, it hardly mattered. He felt alive, he felt up to his mission, up for the train ride and a brisk walk. On the way to the station he saw his own shape reflected in the window of the still-closed supermarket. The rucksack looked bulky. He should have taken greater care packing it. At the station, he barely had to wait three minutes for the train, now it was only a good hour until he would reach his destination. The sun cast odd shapes across the seats opposite, the flickering light made him drowsy. On getting off, he recognised the way immediately, even though it must have been twenty-five years or more. He took the small street leading off the main road at the end of the village, soon the neat little houses with their scrubbed patches of front garden gave way to a dirt track. Some older houses with stable doors ajar, bordering onto the fields, their plaster crumbling in places, swifts flying through a brick hole in the barn gable, then the landscape was open, a line of trees to the right keeping him company. He kept walking for almost an hour, past an abandoned farm. There was an old tree with a halo of walnuts lying on the ground beneath it.
He left the dirt track and went into the woods. His back began to feel sore, his neck and shoulders stiff. Not much longer, he was certain he was close to the spot at last. Another half hour – he had to wipe his forehead with an old handkerchief repeatedly. And then he was there. Yes, it most certainly was here. Just as he remembered.
He put down the rucksack and untied the laces underneath the flap with the old leather buckles. Johan sat down on the stump of a tree. He unpacked the old aluminium pot, a small gas stove burner and a tin of ravioli. Set up and lit the flame.
He felt an utter sense of accomplishment.
narrow // alive // reflected // walnuts // swift
thank you, sylee
p.s.: i'm so sorry for being far behind with blog reading and commenting. i'm trying to catch up. happy weekend, all!
sometimes someone picks you flowers. sometimes a good friend makes them for you with tissue paper and you put them on branches you found on a walk.
i'm ploughing on with work, but were lucky enough to have lunch with this visitor from marseille today. how great to catch up a little!
also thank you so much for your feedback on the wanderer. so many have been visiting already: you are the best! -- oh, and the comment function is now live there, just click on the date of any given post, where you can see and leave comments.
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
i have been thinking about this for quite a while. a place to gather the things i see. it's something i already do, in some shape, on pinterest, but i wanted a different format. another blog perhaps. in the end, it turned out to be a tumblr, something i've been very ambivalent about in the past. i felt very uneasy about the fact that many people on tumblr post images without bothering to credit them, and linking them back to a source.
i've decided to use this new place as a mood board, and i will caption whatever i find, so you can see where it comes from, go back to the source and enjoy.
it's called the wanderer.
do come by!
p.s.: should you notice any technical glitches on the wanderer, please do let me know. i've tried installing a comments function (via disqus) - however, it doesn't seem to work just yet. in the meantime, your best bet to let me have your feedback is right here!
UPDATE: the comments function is now live on the wanderer! click on the date of the post you would like to comment on, et voilà...
i'm late, very late with my five words. it's hardly saturday any longer, is it? well, i've just scrambled out of the rabbit hole, where i spent considerable time finishing a translation project. i hope you'll forgive me.
When I woke up this morning, I held the fine end of the thread of my dream in my hand. I had been standing in the grand hall of a museum, talking to some person I can remember neither face nor name of and said: „I so badly wanted to buy a Carsten Höller, but they were all gone. Then I saw those two deer, and I just knew it had to be them.“ – Can I remember whether the deer were live? No, I can’t. And where would I have put them? Are there people running stables for artwork? Surely, there must be. And what does it tell me in the blue light of the morning? Is it the sure sign of an art related inferiority complex? Is it the deep wish to touch the silken ears of a deer? Am I attracted to artists dabbling in biology? All I can clearly remember, is one of the deer turning her slender head towards me, twitching her ears and looking at me with those brown eyes. Then I woke up. It makes me wonder. Wouldn’t you wonder? Later that day my stiff neck makes me sigh, and somehow the fact that the rain has turned the yellow leaves -- rustling on the sidewalk and street just the day before -- into some undefined brownish slush leaves me sad. They are driving around in those big orange trucks again, sucking up the leaves with big flexible snouts. One is driving, one is walking, holding the snout, moving it around so as not to miss the odd pile hiding under a parked car. I can see bits of traffic queuing up behind them, the driver surely drumming their fingers on the steering wheel. I’m riding my bike around them, down to the baker’s for a sourdough and to the Asian grocer’s for some noodle soup, some fresh lime and some sugar snaps. I must not forget to add plums to my shopping list for the next day. A friend is calling, we say to meet up on saturday. I have to finish some work, and I keep thinking about things that don’t seem to lend themselves to easy answers. Are thoughts flying higher in summer? Is autumn the season of rumination, of dark plum compote, of deer and other illicit thoughts finding their way into my dreams? I should imagine so.
blue // wonder // sigh // illicit // imagine
thank you, enia
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
we went to the lake, like every year. some things just have to turn into traditions.
more about ferry trips over on my berlin blog, here and here.
(i am really quite touched by your comments on my five words series, they mean a lot!)