UPDATE ON La Vie en Rosé

EPISODE FOURTEEN is now posted. 

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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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PLATONIC SCHMATONIC

The sound clip from the Platonic Love podcast which aired on Via Negativa yesterday is now also on the main Blaugustine. I didn't take the theme as seriously as it should be taken, and was taken, by some of the other contributors, maybe because the tune of Hello Young Lovers kept playing in my head. So I went along with the tune and thought about a familiar situation, when one of the two in a platonic relationship is anything but platonic with other people and the platonic friend feels betrayed but can't admit it because jealousy isn't supposed to be part of the equation. 

 

Love is possessive, innit? Whether it's lover-love, friend-love, parental love, platonic love, schmatonic love - some exceptional beings manage to escape the perils and pains of possessiveness, but not many. 

PLATONIC VALENTINE
(to the tune of Hello Young Lovers from The King And I )

HELLO PLATONIC LOVER WHEREVER YOU ARE
I HOPE YOUR PARTNER IS TRUE
IF NOT ALL MY SYMPATHY'S WITH YOU TONIGHT
I'VE BEEN IN THAT SITUATION TOO.
BE BRAVE PLATONIC LOVER AND GET IN YOUR CAR
DRIVE OFF QUICKLY INTO THE BLUE
THE ONE YOU LOVE IS PLATO WITH YOU
BUT CASANOVA WITH BOB AND CAROL AND SUE.
OH I KNOW HOW IT FEELS
WHEN THE TRUTH IS REVEALED
AND IT JANGLES AROUND IN YOUR HEAD
THE PACT THAT YOU MADE
ABOUT NOT GETTING LAID
NOW YOU'RE COLD.....
AND ALONE IN YOUR BED.
DON'T CRY PLATONIC LOVER WHATEVER YOU DO
DON'T CRY BECAUSE YOU'RE ALONE
ALL YOUR SORROWS ARE OVER TONIGHT
I'M LOOKING FOR PLATONIC LOVE TOO.
BE BRAVE LOVER AND CLICK THE WORD SEND
REPLY TO MY AD RIGHT AWAY
LET'S NOT WASTE TIME
LET'S MAKE THE SUN SHINE
BE MY FAITHFUL PLATONIC VALENTINE.

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POOR VALENTINUS

Saint Valentinus was one of several martyrs by that name in ancient Rome. Although being a martyr for love is a common human experience, I don't think that's what the purveyors and consumers of chocolates and champagne have in mind on Valentine's Day. Why, on every fourteenth of February, the tragic Valentinus has to endure posthumously carrying the weight of all this sugar and bubbling sentimentality is a mystery nobody want to solve. Of course any day is a good day for celebrating love and all its derivatives, sacred or profane, so I'm not going to object if anybody wants to shower me with sweetness in any form whatsoever today. Or any other day. 

One who is not toeing the standard Valentine line is Dave Bonta at his humming beehive of internetted creativity: be sure to tune in to his Platonic Valentine podcast today and listen to the contributions which his request for submissions brought in, including one from me. Dave has many talents, not the least of which is a knack for creating a welcoming village atmosphere at Via Negativa, eliciting and encouraging others' inventiveness whilst continually exploring and developing his own.

By the way, I've added an illustration to Part 12 of La Vie en Rosé. Next episode coming soon.

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ANYONE FOR SINGING?

Sometimes habits and routines have to be challenged by doing something completely different. So I decided to sign up for an evening class in singing - nothing too serious, just popular music, to open lungs and throat and take a break from everything else.

It's a ten-week, once a week beginners' course and the first class was last Friday. Twelve people of varying ages, nationalities and backgrounds, all keen to sing for fun, taught by a sympathetic, and professional tutor. We did warm-up and breathing exercises and ended with the group singing the old Otis Redding number, Dock of the Bay. By the end of the course, each of us will have chosen one song we want to perform alone (I've already decided on mine) and we'll also be doing some group harmonising etc. It's not necessary to be able to read music, thankfully, since I've forgotten all I ever learned. Lyrics and links to internet sound clips will be provided by Max, the tutor. 

I love to sing but somehow never do it nowadays, not even in the shower or for blogging entertainment - you may remember some of my past efforts along those lines: a sound clip  of one of them (Cucurucucu Paloma in Spanish with accompaniment improvised in Garage Band) is among video clips here.

 

This does NOT mean I'm again avoiding the continuation of La Vie ....Coming up, soon.


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APPLES AGAIN

Before I get back to La Vie en Rosé as I promised to do, here's a stage of the latest apple painting I started while procrastinating about La Vie. 

Multi-tasking is not really my thing but I pretend that it is in order to have valid reasons for procrastination. While one thing gets under way the other thing doesn't get done and the more things you start, the less you finish. True or false?

Anyway, the apple series will - come hell or high water and other distractions - get done this year and so will La Vie en Rosé. The current apple is, for art's sake, patiently enduring being suspended in front of a mirror above a mirrored surface. I began this painting last Monday and it's probably nearly finished, more or less.

Apple suspended, reflected, painted - NdA (work in progress) January 2011. Oil on canvas.

 
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THE SILENCE OF CREATION

Standing in the shower a couple of days ago I started to think about creation - not the Creation but simply making something that wasn't there before - like this, I suppose. First it was a thought...then words typed on a keyboard...inserted into software...digital drawing added.... uploaded to the internet...and finally: a Blog Post. Not worthy of the fancy name creation yet fitting the description of something which didn't exist before I caused it to exist.

Our articulated thoughts - however repetitious, witty, profound, perceptive, polished, crude, cliché, original or derivative, are our products and we are floating in an ocean of our own and other people's products. The books on our shelves, the CDs, DVDs, downloads, pictures, posters and objects we cherish demonstrate our need to be fed by the creations of those minds we choose to consort with, as well as our own urge to be creators. We feel that creativity is a state to be attained, nurtured, promoted, prized and rewarded. When we are not being creative we feel guilty, worthless, ordinary. We worship at the altar of the Great Creatives and aspire to be in their pantheon, or to knock them out of it, or to serve them.

But what if it all vanished suddenly? Not a single book on our shelves, nothing on our walls, blank pages in notebooks where there were poems, stories, sketches, ideas. Nothing on television, nothing on the internet, nothing in the cinema, theatre, club, gallery, museum, concert hall. Whoosh! All gone. Silence. 

So, standing in the shower, this is what I was thinking. Creation, as I experience it, comes out of nothingness. Silence. The absence of creations. 

 
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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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SEASONAL IMAGE

Whether you celebrate this season with different images or with no images at all, my warmest wishes go out to you all and may your spirit be moved by all the beautiful things in the universe, visible and invisible.

Meanwhile, I sent a submission to the latest >LANGUAGE>PLACE CARNIVAL and am very pleased that it's there now (video of my stay in Tavira, Portugal) under the heading Slipping Boundaries, amongst the other wonderful entries on Nicolette Wong's blog Meditations in an Emergency.

I have made a firm resolution to return to La Vie en Rosé  as soon as the New Year kicks in and you have my authorisation to remind of this resolution, loudly and clearly.

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IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR

IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR...

when everything accuses:

YOU'RE LATE LATE LATE AGAIN!!! 

The calendar, the weather, the people streaming in and out of shops, the seasonal cards arriving already, the Things To Finish This Year list I made last year and all the lists I've ever made....my whole life suddenly seems like one big end-of-year guilt-ridden apology to myself and others: 

SO SORRY I'M LATE!

No. Not true that I'm sorry. Can't be true. If it were true I wouldn't keep on being late. Lateness must be a state I enjoy. A state I prefer to the state of punctuality, the state of finishing things, the state of satisfaction. Lateness must be what I'm really good at. If I annoy, disappoint or inconvenience others with my lateness, my unfinishedness, that's their problem, isn't it? And if I disappoint, enrage, inconvenience myself that's my problem, isn't it? 

Yes. That is my problem.

(I did the drawing below using the wondrous HARMONY application created by Mr.doob, Ricardo Cabello).

To round off my last post, I must say something about Snow which I have just finished reading. I now have no doubt that the mythological KA or double was present in the author's mind when he worked out the structure of this book. 

First of all, the fictional narrator 'Orhan' is the double of the real author, Orhan Pamuk. Secondly, Orhan tells the story based on his dead friend Ka's diaries and re-traces Ka's journey, trying to see things as the poet did four years ago. The 'double' theme is taken up again in the close relationship between the two teen-age boys, Necip and Fazil, who read each other's minds. After Necip is shot, Fazil says to Ka: "It's possible that Necip's soul is now living inside my body." 

Other instances of doubling, as well as of duplicity, are scattered throughout the story. This is particulary intriguing to me because I was searching for the lesson implied in my dream. I have yet to figure that out but never mind the dream - was I impressed by Snow? 

Impressed, yes. It's an impressive achievement. If it was a sculpture, it would be a public monument standing in a town square. A realistic sculpture but with modernist touches, lots of intricately crafted detail and symbols. Was I moved by it? No. Its monumentality, its intention to be an important novel creates a distance like those barriers not letting you get too near valuable works of art in a museum. While I admire Pamuk's grasp of the complex politics and beliefs of his compatriots and the tremendous skill with which he weaves them into a story, he doesn't make me care about individual characters. Apart from being told repeatedly that Ka's love-object, Ipek, is stunningly beautiful, what do I know about her personality? It has less substance than the snowflakes which dominate the setting. I feel the same about the other protagonists (perhaps Necip is the exception). They are all actors on a stage, reading their roles, and once I've left this theatre, I forget them. The other factor which alienates me from this novel is the surfeit of information: too much, too much! Just when my attention is captured by an incident or conversation, I'm immediately pulled away to look at something else, some irrelevant detail. This is infuriating.

Voilà. I'm obviously not going to join the ranks of those who adore Orhan Pamuk's writing but I will, definitely, take my hat off to him.

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