HATSHEPSUT RIDES AGAIN

 The latest issue of the >Language>Place Blog Carnival Edition 4 is hosted by Jean Morris at tasting rhubarb and sizzles with scintillating contributions. It includes part of the Luxor travel journal I wrote during my one and only journey to Egypt, way back in 2005. 

I'm glad I went there before the upheaval that is rocking the country at present but I hope this upheaval when it settles down will bring the positive changes that the courageous, creative, humorous Egyptian people want and deserve, now that they have succeeded in dismissing their nemesis Mubarak. You can always tell dictators by the size and ubiquitousness of their portraits: I remember seeing huge posters and banners of the Mubarak mug all over Luxor - is it something to do with hypnosis, I wonder? Something like psychic surveillance cameras? Keep the people subjugated by making sure they see your eyes, larger than life, at all times. Come to think of it, those ancient Egyptian monarchs must have known a thing or two about mass hypnosis - look at the size and power of their sculpted portraits! 

Next Vie en Rosé episode coming up shortly.

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PRAGUE

That's where I was at Christmas. 

They say that Prague is a beautiful city and there is much to see. I'm sure this is true but the piercingly cold, wet, sleety, slippery, snowy, windy weather made it impossible for shivering chickens such as me and my sister to see anything much besides the foam on a cup of hot chocolate. I exaggerate: my sister is much braver and more of a sightseer than I am so I dragged along reluctantly to make sure I'd be there to pick her up if she slipped on the ice. That's how heroic I am. I know it's reprehensible but all I really wanted to do was to sit in a warm cafe or in the hotel room. 

Maybe some time, not in winter, I could go back and see all the interesting things I missed this time. Maybe in other seasons the people of Prague become more friendly and maybe they even smile or reply when you ask for directions. I've been to lots of cities and lots of countries and in some of those places I didn't speak the language but never, ever, have I encountered such ubiquitously unfriendly attitudes as in Prague - shopkeepers, tram conductors, ticket sellers, information people, passers-by, etc. etc. either did not respond or responded in a manner which can only be described as hostile. Very few people we came across spoke any language other than Czech - fair enough, but did they need to be so brusque and dismissive? Maybe some foreign tourists behave badly in Prague so the citizens have decided all foreigners are a nuisance. There were a few exceptions: the staff at our hotel and the taxi drivers booked to and from the airport. 

Anyway here are a few pictures I took in Prague. I wish you all whatever you most desire in your heart of hearts. Bonne Année, mes amis.

 

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COMING BACK IS NOT SO EASY, AS YOU COULD TELL FROM THE LONG PAUSE

For me every departure and every return involves a complete re-adjustment of focus, of purpose, of intention, as if the internal and external machinery which sets me in motion has ground to a halt. Like when you put new batteries in a digital camera and the screen message scolds: Date and time not set  and then you have to re-enter the whole shebang - year, month, day, hour, minutes - because the stupid camera has forgotten everything.

I am that stupid camera. It's me who needs re-setting every time but every time is not quite the same and with every departure and every return over the years, tiny changes take place, a kind of evolution and who knows what the end result will be or if there ever is an end result but I have a feeling it's all to the good. Going away is good, probably essential for an artist. And returning is good, certainly essential, but difficult.

There's a poem by Blaise Cendrars which begins (my translation) like this:

Quand tu aimes il faut partir            When you love you must go
Quitte ta femme quitte ton enfant    Leave your wife leave your child
Quitte ton ami quitte ton amie         Leave your boyfriend leave your girlfriend
Quitte ton amante quitte ton amant  Leave your mistress leave your lover
Quand tu aime il faut partir.             When you love you must go.

(read the whole poem in French here)

The title is: Tu est plus belle que le ciel et la mer and, in my view, it's Cendrars' hymn to love, passionate but not sentimental, leaving love behind only to stretch it out like a fishing net to collect all of life and then offer it back to loved ones, transformed. It reminds me of Van Gogh in his outsider solitude, caressing with brush and pen everything he saw.

What I like about going away is leaving the familiar. Even if, especially if, the familiar is good and is comfortable. Being somewhere else, where the walls are not your walls, the objects not your objects, the faces not the faces you know and the hours not the hours you waste or use at home - all this shakes up your body and your psyche, reminding you that you can always start again, no matter how late it is.

So I'm a bit overwhelmed by the familiar at the moment, dealing with some boring stuff that needs to be dealt with and trying to retain the impetus towards painting that was rekindled in Tavira. Hence my bloggish silence.

Don't go away, if you're here, and come back if you've given up on me. I am most definitely still here and will be visible again very shortly. �

Bli's dog with almond trees. Tavira, January 2010

PS: My website is currently being transferred to a new host and as it includes the main Blaugustine blog, I can't add new posts there until the transfer is complete. This should be within the next day or three.

MORE FROM TAVIRA

No time to write. The workshop went well, we did monoprints from collagraphs and monotypes from the ink left over on glass sheets after printing. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Will post some results later. Now I'm preparing for my exhibition which opens on Saturday and lasts for the few days until I leave on March 3rd. Can't believe it's nearly all over!

Below is another painting, again from that cafe the earlier monoprint was about. It's called Anazu, not azul as I said before. And some more photos of Tavira.

CLICK ON PICTURES TO ENLARGE

Cafe Anazu  NdA  February 2010  Acrylic on paper

 

Uma Flor  Found poem, Tavira

Found profile on Tavira wall

Fishing boats on the Gilao river, Tavira

 

The view from Casa 5, Tavira

BACK FROM BEAUTIFUL TAVIRA

Will write about it later today. Meanwhile here's a slideshow.

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