Late b-day present ;))

When I paint everything is easy. The mind is quiet, the breath is steady, the heartbeat normal. I am in the flow or even better I am the flow. I dance with life in an endless spiral which takes me deeper and deeper within. When I´m done I stare at myself, at the self which stares back from the painting and we recognize each other, we encounter, we simply are. My daily meditations are full of colour. I do them as often as I can to learn who I really am. Painting teaches me that I am the space in which everything is allowed to exist, without any trace of fear, false expectations or compromise. It shows me beyond any doubt that it is possible to love and accept myself just as I am. This realization is one of the most precious gifts the Universe has for all of us.

 

What if I can choose to make my life simple?

What if today can be less about "the usual do do list" and so much more about "the to be list"?
So here goes! 
Today I choose to be open, instead of closed.

Today I choose to be brave. Today I choose to be aware that even behind the thickest layer of clouds, the sun still shines, waiting patiently for a chance to get through.

Today I choose to be as gentle with myself  and others as the hands which have placed these tomatoes under the sun rays. Today I choose to be as generous with myself and others as nature is with all its creations.

Today I choose to be there for myself without judgments, regrets, guilt and expectations. Today I choose to allow you into my world.

 

Get your diaries out!!!

Coming up on the 1st of June!!! All welcome!

My first exhibition in London is soon to be opened.
I´m super excited about it as I´m finally getting to share my work with all of you.
If you can´t make it on the opening day, no worries. The exhibition lasts until July 27th.
Please spread the word about it!

See you soon :)))

An Englishman in Moscow

“Snowdrops” by A.D. Miller

The chilling Russian reality viewed through a typical Englishman´s eyes – that´s basically what “Snowdrops” brings to the literary table. But to me there is so much more to this book.

I finished it while sprawled on a dotted blanket in the middle of an opening covered up in green grass. There are moments when the English summer can make one feel like everything is just as it should be. This definitely was one of those days.

Not exactly the best one for a novel that depicts the exact opposite. Despite the sheer contrast between what I was reading and my surroundings, I immediately felt immersed in the harsh everlasting Russian winter and drawn to the dark secrets of its deeply fascinating underworld.

With every babushka, mad cab driver and wobbly old man who jumped from the page I was given a sense of doom and gloom that brought about images rooted in my very being. As I smelled the vodka in the characters´ breath, heard their thick accent and felt the snow settling everywhere layer after layer in huge blinding piles, I could feel closer to home than I wanted to be. Above all, it is this strange discomfort of familiarity that I am taking with me from this novel.
 Another book about guilt. But surely not nearly enough guilt to make me sympathise with the main character. Nick Platt is driven by nostalgia to write his late confession rather than by a genuine desire to finally come clean. Does that make him unlovable? It certainly made him very human to me. In his imperfection he may come across as weak or even devoid of feeling, like a male Russian doll with English features. As a character he is a strange hybrid, a misfit, a deeply saddening fellow whose inability to act and react is brilliantly done.

“Snowdrops” tells his story in first person. For a first novel this is quite an achievement. The rather bleak image that A.D. Miller creates of Moscow will certainly stay with me. I even enjoyed how he manages to bring to life the female characters. Their motives may not fully justify their choices, but the fact that they are consistent throughout the book does give them a remarkable depth.

Although the ending does not necessarily tie together all the details in a coherent web of events, I just would not have it any other way. Because it successfully resorts to elements specific of detective novels, “Snowdrops” has what I would call a gripping plot. But what makes it a really good read from my perspective is the quality of the atmosphere. Miller takes the reader on an emotional roller coaster that I would gladly embark on again and again.

Crashing on the sofa

"Crash" - American drama film 2004

How much serendipity can one take in a film? To what point does it all become a little bit too clever or even way too transparent?

Although the questions above kept boiling up inside my head for a good part of the film, "Crash" made one of my evenings last week. It had all the ingredients to keep my eyes glued to the plasma from beginning to end and it even brought out the occasional sigh of relief at the way one situation or another was solved.

When it came to its incredible cast, to its spectacular power to make all characters fully-flashed and truly human, I´d say the film delivered. To the point that whether the connections were sometimes too obvious simply became simply unimportant. That´s what high quality use of serendipitous events ought to do in my book.

What I really liked about it was how none of the characters proved to be "the bad guy" as opposed to "the good guy." All boundaries seemed to dissolve and all preconceptions melted into a single certainty. This certainty is that any attempt at pigeonholing a person no matter what criteria you´d use is bound to fail. We are all victims of the choices we make in certain situations and nothing, not even skin color, background or high moral principles can point out at what this decision might be.

This recipe made the stories that intertwine in "Crash" truly engaging and their outcome did not disappoint. As the tension amounted at times to unexpected levels I found myself thinking I would definitely give "Crash" another go anytime. 

 

Brand new start

A Cupboard Full of Coats by Yvvette Edwards

After spending most of her life consumed by sheer guilt, the heroine of “A Cupboard Full of Coats,” finds some sort of comfort in finally finding out the truth surrounding her mother´s death. Another novel wrote in first person and yet another one that takes place in London. It is the ending that I found most gratifying. That and the way in which a gloomy past is interwoven with an even darker present.

At first I was a little bit annoyed at the perspective of reading once again about a woman´s inability to become a mother for her child. After “We Need to Talk about Kevin” I feel like I have almost developed some sort of phobia when it comes to reading about the intricate ways of motherhood. I simply can´t engage anymore with the subject, unless it is briefly touched upon like in the case of Yvvette Edwards´ book. Jinx´s narrative did follow me for a good few hours after I turned off my kindle. Hence my decision to write about it here.

It will certainly take me a little bit of time to get into a rhythm. Consistency is what I am striving for. That and some sort of gratification. I am not sure what kind, though. Writing about the books I read should help me get back into the “business of words.” Hopefully… 

The characters in this book felt quite vivid. They did not jump out from the page, but they certainly smelled, cooked, had sex, committed murder etc. and talked loud enough for me to be able to clearly hear and see them in my head. I kept wondering how I would have felt about the book, had I not been here. Pointless questioning, of course. 

My intention is to write up to three hundred words on each book that I finish. I am about to hit the mark with this one. Not too bumpy a start, after all!

 

 

Same focus, different perspectives...