when we see time..

To the party of one that reads this blog: rejoice!!
I am now in the position of being able to call myself a single working (hold on for it) woman (should I be more politically correct and say person? ).

Anyway, even though that is not a very recent or new development, it places me at a vantage point of obervation with regards to viewership and commentary on life and how it passes(perhaps because I am frequently unemployed? Note also the lack of reference to the word 'participation') Well, suffice to say it, for this year at least, I have decided not to join the 'rat race' or whatever equivalent of it, if found, from culture to culture. Living on my own, in a new city, having to manage bills, rent, my house, finding work and of course, food which basically means COOKING..

This past week found me having a minor ephiphany with reference to the latter..
You see, I've been trying to work hard on some projects of my own, and only manage to do that in the evenings, because I am working (trying to) somewhere in the day. The hours seem to pass by quickly, what with me being armed with the foreknowledge that I have to get up early the next day and so cannot work till late, it seems everything; relaxing, thinking, working has to be squeezed within a few 6 hours. Hence I find myself heading out for a quick bite to eat for around 15-20 min at night, so I can get back to work all the faster.

Now I do enjoy cooking, but it takes time and planning, well because you need ingredients...
So I was waiting for my cheese omlet at this mobile food stall outside where I work, and I was watching the road, and the man cooking for me and I had the ephiphany I talked about earlier. You see:
When we go out to eat, we are really never paying for what we eat...

We in fact, usually pay for time (first), then convenience, then bravado (for the man who takes his date out to a really really expensive place), then pride, then sex perhaps. And last of all, the food itself..Its so ironic, especially since we eat to sustain ourselves. But I guess, in today's world where white can be blue, men can be women and day can be night, food- that most essential of tangibles can become time-'the' intangible, something we cannot even see, let alone digest.

my heartbeat in a mirror

When i was
young i wished
for my heart to
beat on the
right side of my chest.
Because that
would make
me rare &
special. I
thought.

Of Bohos and Bobos

I found out today that Bohemia is actually a place...
It's part of the Czech Republic (look to the right for the coat of arms).

So my question is:
What are we all doing here? Bohemians return to the land that gives you your name!

In fact, the assumption that gypsies and other wandering artists mostly came from here, was what led to the coining of the word 'bohemian' and all that it implies today.

Then the authors took it up, and it began to imply a sort of anti-conventionality, beginning with the gypsies and their lifestyle, one that soon began to be coveted by artists, painters and writers at the end of the 19th century.

Of course, amongst the Bohos themselves, are the Bobos, or bourgeiose bohemians, but we should devote another post to that word...

Today Venice Beach, Greenwich Village, Kathmandu, Ithaca (NY) are some of the places where modern Bohemian Communities live. What about where you live? And what about Bohemia itself?

Might have beens

paris j'taime...

...On July 30th 2007, both Michaelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman died...

Now, it might seem shallow to talk only about these two men, when I am sure many others also died on that very same day, but I am going to muse aloud anyway. Why should these two artists of film be deemed worthy of more attention that the subjects who inspired them?

Perhaps because of the coincidence in their dying on the same day? They really might have had a prior rendezvous with each other, who knows . I guess the reason they were floating around in my head, is that though they both made films, and were considered to be part of the avante garde in the 50's and 60's, they both were just so different.

One was prolific, but dysfunctional. The other sparse, selective but happier. One could not bear to watch his own films, the other felt them to be like his children...

However, both of them found inspiration in life, in Bergman's case this was a very personal inspiration, and some of his films seem to be vocalisation of conversations he might have had with himself. I read that in his life, moments would present themselves to him, that would take flight in his mind. Any work of mine, that I feel even remotely happy about, begun like that. I am surprised that he didn't lose himself, pouring his soul out into the very many films that he did.

In that respect, I identify with Antonioni more, and the fact that he really didn't make so many films in his life, and after an initial traumatic try, did not attempt one for ten years. He was okay with his films not being understood, in fact he intended it that way. As a film-maker, when showing a film like that to an audience needs a strong stomach to say the least...(check out the links below)

As film-makers and perhaps artists, do we all not feel an ambiguity towards our work at one point of time or the other? Only now, after a year can I see my last film with some semblance of acceptance. But I have also now, only after almost a year(again), started making films once more. For a long time, I could not even watch them. I am not even really sure why. As for my drawing and writing, well thats been on an ebb for these past two months. I seem to be waging a battle to be and to do everything, but ending up doing very little at all. Very far from the bright flame that was Picasso, burning, burning all his life.

So which are you? An Antonioni or a Bergman? Or perhaps someone else...Check out the links below and decide.


http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/30/movies/30cnd-bergman.html?ex=1186977600&en=aced39c053c830d9&ei=5070

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/31/movies/31cnd-antonio.html?ex=1186977600&en=577cc8bb2f268b9f&ei=5070