April 28, 2011

Linen, hand embroidered


so little it takes to destroy...

This piece of clothing is made of linen - very straight and simple to give room to the material - and embroidered by hand with a spider and a grass. Nice and cool summer slip!

The little girl shall never have a summer blouse. Neither shall the boy. They will never feel the breeze ruffling their hair or a puppy climbing to ones lap. They'll never run in the cool air of early evening or see the moon on the night sky. Never. They do not exist anymore because of some ones hunger for power. Yes, so it is, power...

April 27, 2011

nice and comfortable rags...

And so it is that you are what you eat and talk and wear... and maybe see, too. Nice and comfortable clothes are important - it means also that they are environment-friendly and biologically disposable. Wool - I've always loved wool, soft and comfy and sheep grow it again and again - linen, silk, cotton to some extent, viscose and modal (both made of cellulose) are all such materials.

Spring means light and clear colours, like here white, blue and bright red. The white top is made of linen. Jeans are, as usual, of cotton and with lots of zippers everywhere, The blue tank top is cotton and the belt and shoes  leather. All durable and usable, easy to wear...


 The jumper has trendy holes...
Linen jumper and orange glaspearls.
 Blue cotton tanktop, cotton jeans with red leather belt and shoes - really beautiful shoes!
 And another linen jumper...
with a long string of pearls...

April 26, 2011

Difference between prettyness and power

Syria rebels send a constant flow of video from the country as borders are closed...
Yes, a lot of people on the street and children...
When we remember what happened 1982 - is it possible for them - Assads - to do it again?
 Israa Yunis - was she nine?
Just a boy...

April 24, 2011

In a Glass cubicle

It is said that women have a glass roof - I don't see it like that. I think that it is not a glass roof but a glass cubicle. What ever you do is twisted to something else and if you don't want to explain and explain so nothing ever happens. I don't know what happens if you choose to explain and nag - perhaps you'll just have to continua nagging forever... I do not nag. I don't like to be nagged at. I want things to happen. Not words. Sorry, if that is a crime, but when I see how 'the cock train' keeps gaining speed just by being ordinary... It is humiliating: drunken guys are always better than you. Why? How much does a woman have to do, how brilliant has she to be to gain the same momentum as the average guy? Or is it just so that only boys are accepted to teams... because only boys can play in teams... because girls are so... What the fuck?++ What are the girls? When nothing you do or nothing you say has any meaning so you sure are nothing!

It is an old way of punishing in tribes when  capital punishment was not allowed: the guilty one was not 'seen' any more, he or she did not exist. The others just looked through her/him. Most died in few week.  Some left and either died in the wilderness or survived alone. I did survive.


And now, when I tried again the situation is exactly the same.  Pathetic...  In my art reason is the final weapon, the guillotine... I know there is nothing, no consolation but death, and that is exactly what I'm not going to do. Because I want to do movies, because coincidence is as good or better than your words! Because once more I have seen that words mean nothing... nothing... nothiun... nhoiuiun hiuoo ...

April 23, 2011

The Siege


Misurata, Libya


They were no soldiers, many had never seen a AK-47 but in pictures. There was no discipline, no order and it was a mess - in the beginning. But slowly they understood and those who could use weapons were in the frontline and the others practiced. And took care of the checking points and such in the city. 

An ordinary, a bit fat owner of a car repair shop - he was not a rebel, he had even been to Gaddafi's army, but he joins them because that is the only way forward. And he knows some of the guns and how to use them. He is also a good organizer and loses weight with increasing speed. Has a wife and grown kids.

A teacher of history, devoted muslim and a father of three. He sits in a room with a hole in the wall with a sniper rifle and shoots people. On the table he has a Curan and a glass of water. He is very dedicated and accurate - no bullets lost. 

A doctor who sleeps standing and is finally broken as he watches his nephews five year old daughter die of a head wound  unable to do anything. But other wounded are waiting and the show must go on.

A young pilot, who realizes it must have been his missile that went to a wrong target killing many. Such things happen but the guilt is not so easy and faceless as you imagine.

The journalist covering the situation inside the besieged city: stories from the street,  over crowded hospitals, mosques, schools. The city is deteriorating by bombings and constant gunfire, buildings burning and full of holes. Cluster bombs and white phosphorus make their terrible marks and no-one really cares...

There are also photographers covering the fighting. They are not so popular among the rebels but it is understood that they are necessary: the international community wants to see what is happening and if any help is expected... And then they get a full load; five photographers are hit, two die, two are wounded, and one tells the story... on his fb page even before their families are noticed. (The page is shut from public when this is noticed.)

And then there is acarvin in Washington DC - Andy Carvin - delivering all this immediately to the world via Twitter. Videos - graphic - streaming through Youtube and short messages sent and received. ( The guy is going to get next year  the Pulitzer that was not delivered this year...) 




And they all live their daily life becoming harder and surviving night by night, dying and leaving others to continue until ...







Woman who? There on the spot...

If they would have had mobiles in concentration camps would it have made a difference? Maybe not...  They had tv-cams in Ruanda and Serbia: we all knew but nothing happened!  Is it because the international community is unable - or unwilling - to react, and why? We do react  in natural catastrophies... so why not to man-made? It is like domestic violence, private - can you interfere? But is that not why the community exists? At homes it is the physically weaker wife who usually gets beaten, and kids, of course are beaten by both. In a country women are shut of and restricted as are kids - both suffer while men play heroes!
And what is so great in fighting? Seems to me that wars and rebel,lions come after regular intervals and are needed to 'clear the vision', to wash away the unnecessary burdens. Of course they leave traumas but  one might see those traumas as necessary and natural parts of life... You just learn to live with them, grow into them and perhaps they are the force that prevents new wars to occure during there lifetime.
I think that somehow the net has changed the meaning of private and public - you should not hang in the old ways when the times change, no. You should accept the change and ride the waves. You should let go of the past, let go the rules and let go  your friends and lovers. There shall be a new world to explore, build and develope... At least so it is said... but in reality you won't have a new world, no. Someone just shows you where you belong and spits on you...  wandering jew as u r...

the use of youtube material? as the people watch them in comps...
the stories of these people...

- Flashes in The Dark -

She is a student. She shall dress as a man and has a  cam and sneaks on the streets...

Was it worth it?


Cruel April

And why so? Because the snow has gone but the green is not yet. All there is: dry dead hay, moleholes, dead leaves and sadness. Nothing will ever change, it is just the same stupidity that prevails. Same  loneliness, same longing for consolation and ever the same disappointment - nothing is nothing is nothing. And I am not (many things)! It is so sad...

April 09, 2011

my motto has always been 'Noblesse Oblige'

A bit high-flying, maybe, but proved many times over and so TRUE!

I don't care about money, it comes and goes and is useful. I've never liked competition -why? result is often coincidental and anything done in hurry is poorly built.

I JUST WANT TO HIT THE TARGET!

April 05, 2011

Layers of darkness


A manuscript for a film - but you can't write a movie with words!  Words are not enough! They lack the                visual and the rhythm... 



Oneliner: They are young, spend time together, make love all three, and then the boys die... and she is so alone -He's been badly treated, mental cruelty, by his parents, and one day in cold rage he shoots them... 
and this girl meets this boy in an enchanted cafe, the lost souls....




Synopsis: Niki has two boyfriends - they form a happy trefoil. They'll soon be twenty, they have this secret,          own  life, old car, hot summer and the rosy future opening in front of them. Then one October night the boys  get killed in a car accident. Niki is alone. She can not talk to anyone. because nobody knew, and no- one would accept the idea of a girl and two guys. The sorrow is crushing and Niki is placed in mental care.  Next summer the depression starts to lift and she moves to her own apartment making plans for studies and future. 
But her consciousness is confused: she can hear the boys talking and she can occasionally see them walking on the street or sitting somewhere, laughing and happy. The longing won't ease it's grip and she doesn't want any help. She decides to die.

One september day she just goes driving and knows, that she'll never return. The end shall be like a long-expected sleep after a tedious day. On the journey there is a stop-check ahead, and she turns to a  narrow side road. It takes her to a village with a small factory, a river and a cafe in a blue house.

Boy is the first-born of ambitious parents: trained ever since birth, always towards next target, better and more complete, always an object of criticism and never accepted, ever inadequate. Boy is 23 and he knows, that nothing is enough. Somehow he is unable to go away from home, tear himself off from his father's circle of influence: his nonexistent self-esteem would break without the whip of a trainer, a goal. 
Finally the pressure becomes unbearable. Boy shoots his parents. First mother and then father. He is free. He knows that the freedom shall only last for a short while: he'll be caught and sentenced to prison, but for that moment he wants to live! He takes his fathers motorbike and starts for the roads of early autumn. He drives until he comes to a village with an old factory, a river and a blue cafe.

The cafe is like a dream: jukebox, that plays the music of your soul, Madame, who knows what is needed, and the air to take you to the realm of secret feelings. Niki and Boy dance, dead souls touch and are awakened. Madame gives them a key and shows them the road: - Follow that road for ten miles and there you'll find peace...

The villa is old, by the lake. One can see and feel the autumn. Fire is burning and those two children, abandoned by life, can love each other for a moment. They tell the other everything they never could say in words - their longing, pain, phantoms and oppression, that destroyed the life of one and the other. And undisguised as well by soul as body  they except life, this  and each other, touch and are one for that timeless, shapeless, stolen week.

The telephone rings in the villa and Madame says: - They are on the way... Boy knows. He tells Niki to take the car and to drive, to drive like the devil, and she goes never looking back. She is pregnant and feels that she just has to go on day by day, choosing what to notice and what to pass, to build a world of her own.

Boy goes to the shore, sees the glimmer of light on the water. He sits leaning his back on a pine tree, lets his gaze wander on the shores and woods, and fires the gun.