30.9.08

Küchenfee





Found this in the rummage basket in front of a textile antique shop







for just 1 € (it´s torn at the side)






notice her content expression (and her steaming shoulder...)












"I did toy with the idea of doing a cook-book. The recipes were to be the routine ones: how to make dry toast, instant coffee, hearts of lettuce and brownies. But as an added attraction, at no extra charge, my idea was to put a fried egg on the cover. I think a lot of people who hate literature but love fried eggs would buy it if the price was right."

(Groucho Marx)

29.9.08

Handgemacht - autumn minis











Don´t know what I want to do with them
(but they feel quite snug)

28.9.08

Danke, könnte schlimmer sein







Geritze auf einer U-Bahnhof-Bank. Ja, eben - warum nicht Benn lesen...?!


Was schlimm ist

Wenn man kein Englisch kann,
von einem guten englischen Kriminalroman zu hören,
der nicht ins Deutsche übersetzt ist.
Bei Hitze ein Bier sehn,
das man nicht bezahlen kann.
Einen neuen Gedanken haben,
den man nicht in einen Hölderlinvers einwickeln kann,
wie es die Professoren tun.
Nachts auf Reisen Wellen schlagen hören
und sich sagen, dass sie das immer tun.
Sehr schlimm: eingeladen sein,
wenn zu Hause die Räume stiller,
der Cafe besser
und keine Unterhaltung nötig ist.
Am schlimmsten:
nicht im Sommer sterben,
wenn alles hell ist
und die Erde für Spaten leicht.

(Gottfried Benn)

Bad: To hear about a good crime novel not translated into German, and not understanding any English; to see a glas of beer in hot weather, not beeing able to pay for it; to think a new thought, not beeing able to wrap it into a verse by Hölderlin like professors do; to hear the sound of waves while traveling at night, telling yourself: they do it all the time. Very bad: To be invited when at home the rooms are more quiet, the coffee is better, and no talking required. Worst: Not to die in summer while all is light, and the soil easy for the spade.

27.9.08

Handgemacht - meet the L-monsters









They are 16 cm high, stuffed with wool








and ready to go and live with their new friends,
"neckless monsters" (Tennessee Williams) La.. and Lo..

26.9.08

25.9.08

Handgemacht - black & white garden scene (3)


Mostly stitching on this when acutely garden-missing. For instance yesterday afternoon: Out for a walk, I was admiring some lilac blooming shrubs, when along came a young woman, big unwrapped bundle of flowers and twigs in hand, who climbed the low wall around the shrubs and started breaking off blooms from right under my eyes, adding them to her bouquet (all this in front of the Ministry of the Interior, of all places).
Asked her to consider how those shrubs might look if every passerby would do so. She didn´t appreciate the advice, of course - they would grow afresh in no time, left alone they would only wither, nobody was looking at them anyway, so could I please spare her my "cool remarks".
Well, they believe the world is their playground ...


"The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry, of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the point as clear as possible: The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden."
(Thomas Moore)


P.S. Perhaps someone can enlighten me: does "cool" denote something laudable nowadays, or something stupid, bad and boring = something previously known as "uncool" ?!

23.9.08

Unordnung - chaos creeps





Contemplated cleaning up.
But then - what for.
Unsorted clusters everywhere ...


"Let chaos storm!
Let cloud shapes swarm!
I wait for form."

(Robert Frost)

22.9.08

Handgemacht - crazy quilting revisited (3)


"crazy quilting"-picture of a piece of chestnut hull ...


20.9.08

Samstags-Lob (9)

"I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team
Was going to win at night. The teachers were
Too close to dying to understand. The hallways
Stank of poor grades and unwashed hair. Thus,
A friend and I sat watching the water on Saturday,
Neither of us talking much, just warming ourselves
By hurling large rocks at the dusty ground
And feeling awful because San Francisco was a postcard
On a bedroom wall. We wanted to go there,
Hitchhike under the last migrating birds
And be with people who knew more than three chords
On a guitar. We didn't drink or smoke,
But our hair was shoulder length, wild when
The wind picked up and the shadows of
This loneliness gripped loose dirt. By bus or car,
By the sway of train over a long bridge,
We wanted to get out. The years froze
As we sat on the bank. Our eyes followed the water,
White-tipped but dark underneath, racing out of town."

(Gary Soto: Saturday At The Canal)

19.9.08

Handgemacht - white cross quilt


lined up elements from different fabrics along one side


began following the pattern on the brown fabric with rough stitches to create spots which give it a somehow vintage look I think - like traces of a clothworm, if such a creature exists (hopefully not...)


inspiration for the white crosses and the curved grey-brown foundation came from the wallhanging in the background of a small magazine photo

18.9.08

Handgemacht: autumn´s demands





Heating season again...
Abandoned the "summer" quilt and pillow (for a while), coming back - in need of the brownish and woolish - to a piece I started last winter

"Time is the longest distance between two places."
(Tennessee Williams)

16.9.08

Simple pleasures







fabric leaf at (untidy) doorstep








little present I made today



"Anyone can make the simple complicated. Creativity is making the complicated simple."
(Charles Mingus)

14.9.08

Fleemarket-buttons - arme und reiche Knöpfe








The fleemarket-buttons again (from 1. September), this time with their posh cousin. Picture taken at a spontanous meeting on a fashion magazine page: fleemarket-buttons (top, 1 €), Chanel-brooch (below, 1180 €). Astonishing familiy likeness.

"When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: Whose?"
(Don Marquis)

13.9.08

Samstags-Lob (8)







"Als nun ein elektrischer Wagen vor Raban hielt, schoben sich um ihn viele Leute der Wagentreppe zu, mit wenig geöffneten spitzigen Schirmen, die sie aufrecht in den an die Schulter gepreßten Händen hielten. Raban, der den Koffer unter dem Arm hielt, wurde vom Trottoir hinuntergezogen und trat stark in eine unsichtbare Pfütze. Im Wagen kniete auf der Bank ein Kind und drückte die Fingerspitzen beider Hände an die Lippen, als nähme es Abschied von jemandem, der jetzt davonging. Einige Passagiere stiegen herunter, und mußten einige Schritte entlang des Wagens gehn, um aus dem Gedränge zu kommen. Dann stieg eine Dame auf die erste Stufe, ihre Schleppe, die sie mit beiden Händen hielt, lag knapp über ihren Beinen. Ein Herr hielt sich an einer Messingstange und erzählte, den Kopf gehoben, einiges der Dame. Alle, die einsteigen wollten, waren ungeduldig. Der Kondukteur schrie.
Raban, der jetzt am Rande der wartenden Gruppe stand, wandte sich um, denn jemand hatte seinen Namen gerufen.
"Ach, Lement", sagte er langsam und reichte einem herankommenden jungen Mann den kleinen Finger der Hand, in der er den Schirm hielt.
"Das ist also der Bräutigam, der zu seiner Braut fährt. Er sieht schrecklich verliebt aus", sagte Lement und lächelte dann mit geschlossenem Munde.
"Ja, du mußt verzeihn, daß ich heute fahre", sagte Raban. "Ich habe dir auch nachmittag geschrieben. Ich wäre natürlich sehr gerne morgen mit dir gefahren, aber morgen ist Samstag, alles wird überfüllt sein, die Fahrt ist lang."
"Das macht ja nichts. Du hast es mir zwar versprochen, aber wenn man verliebt ist. Ich werde eben allein fahren müssen."
Lement hatte einen Fuß auf das Trottoir, den anderen auf das Pflaster gestellt und stützte den Oberkörper bald auf das eine, bald auf das andere Bein.
"Du wolltest jetzt in die Elektrische steigen, gerade fährt sie weg ..."

(Franz Kafka: Hochzeitsvorbereitungen auf dem Lande, 1907/09)

12.9.08

Just thinking










"Got up on a cool morning. Leaned out a window.
No cloud, no wind. Air that flowers held
for awhile. Some dove somewhere.

Been on probation most of my life. And
the rest of my life been condemned. So these moments
count for a lot—peace, you know.

Let the bucket of memory down into the well,
bring it up. Cool, cool minutes. No one
stirring, no plans. Just being there.

This is what the whole thing is about."

(William Stafford: Just thinking)


... became acquainted with W. Stafford by yesterday´s "whiskey river" (see Blogweiser - inspiring quotations there)

11.9.08

Handgemacht - crazy quilting revisited (2)



I call this "Losing Love", as in "As she said losing love is like a window in your heart ..." Kitsch, undeniable - but I like it

Graceland
by Willie Nelson

(...)
"She comes back to tell me she´s gone
As if I didn´t know my own bed
As if I´d never noticed the way she brushed her hair from her forehead
As she said losing love is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you´re blown apart
Everybody feels the wind blow
I´m going to Graceland (...)

There is a girl in Austin Texas and she calls herself a human trampoline
Sometimes when I´m falling flying tumbling in turmoil I say this is what she means
She means we´re bouncing into Graceland
And I see losing love is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you´re blown apart
Everybody feels the wind blow
And I´m going to Graceland in Memphis Tennessee

I´m going to Graceland
For reasons I cannot explain some part of me wants to see Graceland
And I may be obliged to defend every love every ending
Or maybe there´s no obligations now
Maybe I´ve reason to believe we all will be received in Graceland
Oh oh Graceland
I´m going to Graceland."


I´d like to go there myself one day, to Graceland in Memphis Tennessee - believe it or not ...

10.9.08

Art (lessness)








Unused advertising boards in Berlin subway station ...



"Art to me is an anecdote of the spirit, and the only means of making concrete the purpose of it´s varied quickness and stillness."

(Mark Rothko)

9.9.08

Handgemacht - a "summer quilt" in the making (3)


... is not keeping step with summer´s half-life, I´m afraid - but the pillow is showing some progress:




"Es soll nicht genügen, daß man Schritte tue, die einst zum Ziele führen, sondern jeder Schritt soll Ziel sein und als Schritt gelten."

(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

7.9.08

Berlin Bordstein Beauties












Versuchter Spaziergangs-Erfahrungsgenuß ...

"Denn es nützt wenig, (...) das Ästhetische in der Erfahrung des Alltags zu entdecken, wenn wir in einer Zeit leben, die ganz und gar umgekehrt auch noch die Erfahrung des Alltags ins Ästhetische retten muß, um sie zu behalten. Das aber geht nur - die gefährdete Lebenserfahrung kann ins Ästhetische nur dann gerettet werden -, wenn das Ästhetische (...) sich selbst als Erfahrung will und begreift. Das gelingt nicht obwohl, sondern es gelingt, gerade weil das Ästhetische "Genuß" ist, nämlich jener Genuß, der Erfahrung ist: Erfahrungsgenuß."

(Odo Marquard: Skepsis und Zustimmung)

6.9.08

Samstags-Lob * (7)









"Well, the next time you go to the circus
Where the Wallendas walk on the wire
Here's a tale for you to remember
When the white horses leap rings of fire.

It was a cold night in Oklahoma
And the show was about to begin
And the animals they were all restless
When the star horse she breaks from her pen.

She was a mare of high spirit
Like a hooker on Saturday night
And kickin' and buckin' past the men that were brushin'
The elephants down for the night.
Well, next to the tent sat a lantern
Dangerously close to the hay
And that mare headed straight for that lantern
Some fool had left there by mistake.

Well and up jumps this Indian cowboy
And his lasso went whirlin' through the air
In the full dead middle of the danger
He ropes that runaway mare

Well, the elephants raised up their trumpets
And two of them broke from their chains
And stampeded that Indian cowboy
That had saved the big top from flames.
So if you ever go out to the circus
Where the Wallendas walk on the wire
Remember that Indian cowboy
When the white horses leap rings of fire."

(Townes Van Zandt: Indian Cowboy)


* What´s it all about?
Well, I´ve been on not too friendly terms with saturdays for years - they´re ruled by Saturn, what else is there to say ...
So I began collecting Saturday-stories, focussing on those which don´t belittle the fact that saturdays are somewhat problematic days - when people don´t know what to do with themselves, feeling used and senseless (1); when they go for afternoon walks, smiling at each other´s pagan faces (2); when it seems to be best to keep sitting in your armchair, waiting which leg will go to sleep first (3); when everyone but you has got a date (4); when people contemplate suicide, mutilate flies, and forget small children behind when they go out to the pictures (5); when the least thing you want is a date (6); when horses and elephants break free and brave men meet their untimely deaths (7); when the trains are crowded and you miss your tram (next week) ... - nevertheless calling my collection "Saturday praise".
I can highly recommend the method - I´m quite enjoying myself on saturdays lately ...

5.9.08

An afternoon at the zoo ...











"I am writing this poem
from inside a lion,
And it´s rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion´s cage
I´m afraid I got too near.
And I´m writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it´s rather dark in here."

(Shel Silverstein: It´s Dark in Here)

Silly, I know ...

4.9.08

Handgemacht - crazy quilting revisited (1)



More? Click headline to see 36 (last time I counted ...) wonderful freestyle ("spirit cloth style") crazy quilt blocks ...

3.9.08

Tagwildlinge - is it sultry, or is it me ...?









"Es kommt mitunter vor, daß der August vergeht und der alte dicke Stamm des Sommers aus Gewohnheit noch weiterzeugt, aus seinem Moder diese gelben und idiotischen Tagwildlinge und Tagwucherungen treibt und als Draufgabe, umsonst, Tage wie abgenagte Maiskolben, leer und ungenießbar, hinzufügt - weiße, erstaunte, unnütze Tage."

(Bruno Schulz, Die Zimtläden/August, 1933)

"Now and then it happens that August passes and the old thick trunk of summer habitually still procreates, shooting forth from its decay those yellow and idiotic daywildlings and excescences, gratuitously adding days as gnawed off corn, empty and unedible - white, astonished, useless days."