Sunday Night, and a poem.

No matter how early I get up, the world
is already whirling; no matter
how silent the kitchen, the stove is warm,
like a great heart, the coffee beans
are sending out their dark signal,
the cat is half-awake, his second eyelids
partly glued to the two suns
of his eyes.  The oranges contain themselves
like glorious planets on the cheese tray,
the milk waits, luminous in its carton,
the round table abides, the day
grows wide.  Slowly I step into
its bright stream.

Matter, by Carolyn Miller.

I found this poem while I was lazily reading my way through the Squam blog, over here.  I've been busy of late.  Madly, truly, beautifully, crazily busy.  It has reminded me of crazy times spent running down scree-slopes back when I was young and foolish.  And while I didn't lose control of the beautiful madness and it stayed fun, I did need to keep that forward-momentum going just to stay on my feet.

My next blog post, outlined on a piece of pink note-paper just now, will be all about things I enjoyed during those days.  And really, there was so much.  But today I rested.  I lolled about.  I read.  I noted down quotes as I read.  I listened to music.  Baked bread.  Had 4 loads of laundry dry outside on the line.  I nibbled, searching for something to magically re-energise me - trying all but those scary vials of vitamins I bought a month or two ago.  Gert has taken to sighing when he asks if I've had any yet.  I have an osmosis theory about medicines and vitamins.  If they sit close by and I look at them sometimes, they work ... magically.  By osmosis.  Julie might snort laughter through her nose if she reads this ...

Today I didn't drink any red wine.  I sighed over all that still needed done but thought 'Tomorrow'.  Tomorrow is Monday and I will begin again then!' as if I really meant it.   And I do.

The house is clean and it smells of fresh laundry ... as the towels had to come in and finish drying on the clothes-horse I use instead of an electric dryer.  And the house smells of freshly-baked bread because the loaf finished cooking not so long ago.  And in just over 7 hours the smell of coffee will be filling the house, as my coffee beans are ground and become a rather lovely espresso.  Thank you to Wesley for selling me her exquisite coffee machine back in October.

And that is how it is here tonight.  The time is becoming midnight in another 32 minutes, I should be sleeping but somehow writing this became that more interesting thing that woke me a little.

The photograph ... taken while out wandering with Lynette, at an ungodly early morning winter hour, last Friday.  The posh fries shop made me smile.  It did.

 

C'era una volta ... or, once upon a time.

Jessie whipped up one of her magnificent Hairy Bikers chicken pies tonight.  It was divine.  Served with mashed potato and with carrots doused in butter, honey, salt and pepper.  Simon took the photo below.

Simon, Paola and Giulia came to dinner tonight. Much talking and quite some laughter were served up with pie and pavlova.

And yes, red wine was involved.

We were talking of all kinds of things, catching up and remembering way back when we first met ... pre-2008.  Veronica, a mutal friend was heading home from an overseas posting and her farewell party was at my place.  'Could Simon come too?' she asked, confessing she hadn't actually met him in real life but telling me he seemed nice over the time they had known each other as blogging friends.

No worries, said the kiwi I am- we're very hospitable.  Paola came too, not sure of what to expect from her husband's unmet online friends ...

Paola and I began with a friendship way back on that evening.  Simon too.  And I've photographed their family over the years that have unfolded since.  Their babies are all at school now. 

Then Paola invited me home to Italy with her one day.  We flew.  I wrote on 17 October, 2008:  Paola and I woke at 4.45am for a 5.45am taxi.  A fast flight to Milan, a bright bright yellow Fiat from Hertz, and here we are, wandering.

I successfully navigated my first big session alone - finding and buying a corkscrew, some internet time, blogging, and walking back to the apartment without getting lost. 

And although I fell for Genova on that very first visit, I had no sense of just how big a part of my life the  ancient Italian city would become. 

On that visit I made a million notes about every place I loved there. I interviewed the owners of all kinds of businesses and took photographs and simply fell for a city, like I had never fallen for a city  before.  The sea, the mountains, the history, the culture  ... its way of being. 

Genova is very particular.

By October 27, still 2008 and that first visit, I was writing the names of the places I loved there.  The colonial spirit still alive and well in me, although quieter and far more polite than my ancestors.  I was simply noting names, not planning a conquest.

I recorded that cascade of those days there in my journal, took photographs and began, way back then, to weave that city into my life.  And tonight, looking back, I realised it all happened because of a farewell party for that lovely American friend called Veronica. 

C'era una volta, a New Zealander hosted a party for an American friend and met a British guy and his Italian wife ...

Whispers From My World ...

Claire mailed me a link to a beautiful video clip from home, see below ...writing, 'hope you don't get too homesick!'  I did but I loved it so much that a little bit of homesick really doesn't matter.

Meanwhile I've had the pleasure of spending the last couple of days in the company of Lynette - one of the loveliest kiwi soul's I know.  We were up at 6.30am two mornings in a row, taking Miss 9 to school because Jess was fighting with the nastiest kind dental abscess pain and Lynette thought it would be fun to come wandering.  Remember we're mid-winter here in Belgium. 

Jessie's antibiotics have kicked in now and it's Saturday today.  A 9am wake-up was so welcome this morning.

And I'm rapt with the small pile of new shells here on my desk, fresh from one of the exquisite beaches in Nelson, NZ, sand still clinging to some.  I'm a shell and stone-gatherer.  My desk bears witness to this.  Included in her bag of New Zealand goodness Lynette also bought Miss 9 a Magpie soft toy, complete with the really special call of the New Zealand magpie.

It has a lovely few days of 'home' ... and I'm still listening to Fran Kora.  A most excellent way to begin a day.

The Waters of Greenstone from Nathan Kaso on Vimeo.

 

Blue Sky Directly Overhead but ...

It would be fair to write that Antwerp city struggles with terrible air pollution.  Most of Europe drives through Belgium ... trucks in their gazillions.  People on their way some place else.

I read: Antwerp is particularly affected by air pollution generated by the eight-lane motorway passing near the city centre, its important seaport (second largest in Europe), as well as by the presence of the second largest petrochemical industry worldwide. Moreover, the high buildings located in the city centre create street canyons where noise and pollutants are especially concentrated.

Researching this was fairly depressing ...

Leonie Wise, Where the Road Ends

we wonder if there is a place here for us,
if we will tell our stories to island visitors some years down the line,
this island gets under our skin, into our blood
little remnants of it coming home in our memories.

Leonie Wise, extract from where the road ends.

Beautiful people, beautiful photographs, beautiful words.

Here is just one of Leonie's exquisite  images from that particular post.

She has opened a conversation for me ...  we wonder if there is a place here for us.

I know that curiousity.  I have been looking for 'home' since forever.  I'll know it when I find it and in the meanwhile I'll enjoy where I am, like always.  I've spent the last 30 years moving towns, moving countries. 

Perhaps it will always be like this for me but perhaps one day I'll arrive ... and somehow I'll know that I'm home.

Tram 11, a poem by Herman de Coninck

TRAM 11

Tram comes. Tram goes. Going: a young Zairean
humming huskily with baby, plenty of time,
intimate with each other, in public
yet still alone. The tram looks on.

Tram comes: a Moroccan woman tries to quiet
her whining little tatty boy. The more she shakes him,
the more syllables fall from him.
Until an Antwerp woman's ta-ta-ta

brings him to himself. And to all of us.
Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling through the town.
Public transport civilizes us, makes us festive,
maintains our confusion.
Herman de Coninck
Translated to English by Cedric Barfoot and Sonny Williams.

Way back in 2007, that was me reading Herman de Coninck's poem on stage in front of more than a few people. 

Little Bushman, Peaceful Man - with the NZ Symphony Orchestra.

"Though some, in darkness of heart, seeing their land ravished, might wish to take arms and kill the aggressors, I say it must not be. Let not the Pakehas think to succeed by reason of their guns ... I want not war, but they do. The flashes of their guns have singed our eyelashes, and yet they say they do not want war ... The government come not hither to reason, but go to out-of-the-way places. They work secretly, but I speak in public so that all may hear, " Te Whiti-o-Rongomai III told his people in March 1880.

You can read more of the man who was rumoured to have influenced Ghandi in his peaceful resistance.  Tim Finn and the Herbs sang about Te Whiti too.

Regarding the music clip at the end of this post,  Mark Bell asks the question of Little Bushman, regarding the 2009 collaboration between Little Bushman, composer/arranger Psathas and the NZ Symphony Orchestra – did he actually manage to enjoy the experience given the enormity and pressure of such an undertaking?

His reply, over on Mark's interview, made me laugh.

I am loving all this digging around and finding New Zealand music and movies I've missed.

The Truth About Me ...

Raf, Gert and I were talking of flashes and cameras at the kitchen table last night and there I was, relaxing.

It makes me laugh to confess that I have become a woman best-suited to low-light, layers and filters.

 

Writing, Football, and Photography

Raf came to dinner last night, asking if he might use my camera flash while he was over.  He was curious about the process of using the master/slave set-up on his camera. Neither of us had attempted it before and it was the best fun I had had in a while.  More to follow as I experiment with that in the months ahead as it turns out the Gert's Metz flash is able to make a wireless connection with my Canon flash. 

The photograph following was taken when Raf put down his beautiful Canon EOS-1Ds Mark III, with its battery pack attached and picked up the smaller Canon EOS 550D, laughing over how to hold it in his big hands.  I liked how it looked and took a series of images with my beloved Canon EOS 5D MkII.

It was a lovely evening.  Thank you, Raf, for opening the door into this new way of working with light.

Pa Boys, a New Zealand Movie by Himiona Grace

There's a new New Zealand movie due out this February and I want to see it.  I found the song below and loved it. The movie is The Pa Boys.

I wandered off and discovered this interview with the man behind it all, Himiona Grace - ‎director, writer, photographer and musician too. 

I desperately want to see it but I guess I'm waiting until it comes out on DVD. 

Listening to Himiona's story unfold brought back memories of a weekend spent at a writing workshop on Stewart Island with Himiona's mother, one of New Zealand's best writers, Patricia Grace.  And then he's married to New Zealand writer Briar Grace-Smith.  Someone I missed the arrival of by virtue of losing track of New Zealand's arts scene.  He loved the anonimity of this ... he was either Patricia Grace's son or Briar Grace-Smith's husband.  Meanwhile, he's quietly got on and created something marvelous.  Or so it seems.

The Daily Photo Challenge ...

The element of 'challenge' continues to dominate as I work at finding a photograph for every day of this year however my lovely friend and I are delighting as our stories and images roll out over days.

Today's image began as a shot of the beautiful dish with the delicate fern leaf imprint inside.  The one that was gifted to me by the truly special New Zealand family I had the pleasure of photographing when I was home.  But as I worked at composition and struggled with light ... because yes, I did leave it until the last moment, it soon became clear that it was more about the bracelets and necklace I wear everyday.  They nestle there in the dish over-night.

The jade necklace was carved by Jayme Anderson, a talented New Zealand artist and jade carver. I was told that the jade is Marsden Jade and that delighted me.  Hokitika and the wild west coast stole my heart way back when I was teenager.

A little from Jayme's business card , 'Jayme's love for jade and carving began in 1996, the first year of his Diploma of Visual Art and Design.  He graduated in 1998.

Later it tells me that, 'From his 10 acre lifestyle block at Marsden, home of the flower jade, he travels internationally and pushes the boundaries in techniques and stone limitations. His innovative work is in the Spiritwrestler Gallery in Canada and private collections in Canada, the U.S. and the U.K...

I feel extraordinarily fortunate to have a piece of his work.  It was well worth the horrific journey through my old nemesis ... the Homer Tunnel.  That story is here.

 

'Art Has A Function Beyond Beauty' ... Shannon Galpin

I loved this!!

"The fruit of years of collaborative work between Afghan and Western photographers and photojournalists, Streets of Afghanistan chronicles one of the most captivating efforts to connect communities and cultures through our common humanity and the power of art."

You can read the rest of this over on the Youtube page.

Shannon Galpin, the woman who said on the video that 'art has a function beyond beauty', has her own website - Mountain2Mountain.  She is so very inspiring!

Eddie Vedder, Musician

I think music is the greatest art form that exists, and I think people listen to music for different reasons, and it serves different purposes. The best songs are the ones that make you feel something.
Eddie Vedder

I needed to add this song to my blog, for future reference ... to play easily.  I'm liking this man's voice.  Intensely.

Love this.  A song by Eddie Vedder, Guaranteed.