30 April 2011
Tonight I'm attending my first hen party. It won't be like the ones we saw - several every day! - in Edinburgh, groups of women wearing pink glitter boas blinking devil's horns, getting out of limos and into bars, high high heels wobbling on cobble stone, but something more intimate and loving. I'm never in groups of only women. To me it feels like an outdated division - on such a special day, wouldn't you want to be surrounded by those who love you the most, no matter what they look like between their legs?
27 April 2011
And we thrive in the sunset.
I refer to the colour mix, not the drug, the breccia or the Viennese specialty.
Portraits by the Karol. The name of her camera I know not, but it's pretty.
26 April 2011
21 April 2011
|Oh, this golden smudge.|
|You can see us look at you, and at the same time see us walk away from you.|
|The famous statue Tor och krokodilerna (Tor and the crocodiles).|
20 April 2011
|...the world stood still.|
|The shadows grew long...|
|...and the buds were ready to burst a-flame in the sun.|
|I spied on people's windows.|
|It was a good day for reflections...|
|...and the opposing buildings patterned the world.|
|When we met, we had candy and together straightened out the wraps. A good day.|
19 April 2011
For a thingie I had to add some extra pics that are not in my current portfolio. These are five of them.
Looking at pic no 2, from the Colouroscope explorations I made last year, I get really inspired. I love black and white that isn't really black and white. This has to be used for something, something other, something more.
Looking at pic no 4 I realize, again, how much I love cheap, thin, brittle paper.
Looking at pic no 5 I wanna build an entire 70's bed landscape out of soft, soft, bendy materials. The safest landscape in the world.
Is it a positive thing to get inspired by what you do or simply egocentricity? I hope it's the first. You gotta believe in what you make.
This is the second day in a row that my computer is shouting at me. It's like working with a small, silver, bescreened hoover.
18 April 2011
Five times my favourite guy. At home and getting ready at The Caves, Edinburgh.
The grand guest house entrance floor in Edinburgh. Photo and feet by the Glenn.
Photo by the Glenn. (Sorry for the saturation. Blogger is so buggy I can't change the pic.)
At the ladies' room at The Caves. Hello!
We performed from this little balcony. I'm the big fella to the right.
The big stage in preparation, Speedy J:s domain.
I post the pics from The Caves reluctantly. There is no glamour in iPhotography. And my laptop screams at me, it's so distracting.
14 April 2011
- All this evening I've had a feeling of destiny closing in. Do you believe in astrology?
- I couldn't say, pal.
- Well, I don't normally. But tonight as I was walking along that road, I began to feel the enchantment of this desert. I looked up at the sky, and the stars seemed to be mocking me, reproving me. They were pointing the way to that gleaming sign and saying: There's the end of your tether, you thought you could escape and skip off to the phoenix palace but we know better. That's what the stars told me. But perhaps they know that carnage is imminent and that I'm due to be among the fallen. Fascinating thought.
The Petrified Forest (1936)
- - - ◇ - - -
The desert night sequence in The Petrified Forest is only a few seconds long, forgetful perhaps, but it made an everlasting impression on me when I first watched it. Since I was little and watched The Scarlet Pimpernel (and read the books!) I've been a Leslie Howard fan. He somehow reminds me of my father, tall, light blond, long nose with a bump. He seems gentle, and vain.
I can't watch The Petrified Forest without breaking into tears. For me, the death of Leslie Howard (his plane shot down in 1943 by Nazis), the death of my father, grandfather, and so many others, represents the death of an era, like a wish list of things never to happen.
12 April 2011
11 April 2011
I'm back from Edinburgh, arrived earlier today (night now turned to into yester). The weekend was great - sunny, blossomy, summery t-shirt weather, parks, people barbecuing (soon that will be me!), brilliant old man's boozers, music, friends - all that is good in life. I feel as bitter as I do whenever we return from holidays. I wouldn't have minded staying on a bit longer and then gone on to Berlin.
However, that's not the case.
I've worked my Instagram in lack of a mended or new digital and waiting to develop my analogue cameras (three one time cameras - one with a constant flash! - one Lomo and one Golden Half), and thought I'd show you the other birthday book I got, of Jocke and Frida: Förbisett, när vardagen glimrar till - or, in my translation: Neglected, when everyday life glimmers, by Niklas Ingmarsson, Robert Willim and Martin Magntorn. It's a book revolving around photos of places you normally wouldn't take notice of, taken in the south of Sweden. It's more uneven than Papercraft, though they are tricky to compare, but glimmery indeed. Thank you, dears.
Writing this, I want to add I want to, I want to, I want to, something, something I want to share, something important I can't pinpoint. I feel the joy of urgency slipping through my fingers, knowing that it won't resurface. Instead I'll play backgammon on my phone until the Glenn stops snoring and I fall asleep. Tomorrow - today - is Monday. Hello you, I hope your weekend was great.