29.6.09

A Give-away...













Post No. 200...
1 year Gerdiary...

This, I guess, calls for a give-away.

Here it is: a new Calmer...













...and a pendant to go with it














So, if you`d like to have them, let me know here
between now and friday...
(for commenting, click post-title)

Cheers and thank you to everyone. This year of blogging
has been a thoroughly enriching thing...

27.6.09

Silent saturday...

















































































(Out of Wedding, Uferhallen Berlin)

26.6.09

Blue Skies smilin´at me













... not in Berlin, though -
or, with some brighteyed effort
(to balance yesterday´s nightshift...) -
they are, from somewhere above the rainclouds...
PS. used a tiny bit of the new indigo here...


"Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see
Bluebirds singin' a song
Nothin' but bluebirds all day long
Never saw the sun shinin' so bright
Never saw things goin' so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly
Blue days, all of them gone
Nothin' but blue skies from now on
(Blue skies smilin' at me
Nothin' but blue skies do I see)
Never saw the sun shinin' so bright
Never saw things goin' so right
Noticing the days hurrying by
When you're in love, my how they fly
Blue days, all of them gone
Nothin' but blue skies from now on
Nothin' but blue skies from now on."

(Willie Nelson: Blue Skies)

25.6.09

Heavy Eye Makeup














Eyes everywhere ... These were (very fragile) remnants
of a label inside the collar of an old shirt I altered...


"In manchen Stunden werden meine Augen
dunkel, dann rase ich zurück in meine
Dunkelheit, bevor die ersten Worte
kamen: Am Gasthaustisch um drei Uhr
früh, dann rasselt etwas anderes im
Hals, dann liegt, im Gitterbett,
jemand, und seine dunklen Augen
starren an die Decke, weit zurück.
Und weiter noch, gegen halb Vier, die Augen
nachgedunkelt: Senf, der Grind in Fliegengittern,
Wiener, und stickig, über Land.
In manchen Stunden, Augenblick, Relikt: Das
Anstarren von Telefonen, nachts im Sessel
abseits, eingehüllt, und Kabel stöpseln
sehen, warten, schwach, bevor
die ersten Worte kommen, dort,
zurück mit dunklen Augen."

(Marcel Beyer: Dunkle Augen/Dark Eyes)

At certain hours my eyes grow
dark, then I race back into my
darkness before the first words
come out: At the inn table at three
in the morning, then something else rattles in
the throat, then someone else
in the cot, his dark eyes
staring up at the ceiling, far back.
And later still, about half three the eyes
further darkened: mustard, the dirt on fly screens,
wiener, and muggy, cross country.
At certain hours, moment, relic:
staring at phones, at night in an armchair
out of the way, wrapped up, hands plugging cables
seeing, waiting, weakly, before
the first words come out, there,
back with dark eyes.

(transl. H.-Chr.Oeser/G. Rosenstock)

23.6.09

Hands of Time













A windowsill detail that caught my eye -
suggesting it being very stylish and orderly
around here... I assure you: it´s not













A new project in the making (one more, indeed...)
It´s a relative of Riverrun, I call it Hands of Time...













... and I´m embedding a small shell, which...













...belongs to this pretty little collection of shells
(including 2 elephant´s toenails) and fragments which Susan
at ArtSpark Theatre sent me. Thanks again, Susan...

22.6.09

Flower Power













A stack of embroidered table-clothes a friend gave
me yesterday - they´re from her aunt (who contemplated
throwing them away...)













I wondered whether I´d have the nerve to cut into
them, took a deep breath - and did it...
First result: a Flower Lady














"In order to live free and happily you must sacrifice
boredom. It is not always an easy sacrifice."

(Richard Bach - borrowed at Thinker online)

21.6.09

Fair(y)tale













Yesterday I went to see the annual (since last year)
"Textile Art", the only textile event in Berlin
which, as far as I know, doesn´t focus mainly/only
on fashion.
No photos, though, that wasn´t allowed (silly, really,
dozens of signs everywhere making sure no one forgets it...)
It takes place in a (quite ugly) school building, but pleasantly
spacious, just 1 or 2 stalls per room.
A highlight is a beautiful exhibition of Korakdusi quilts
from Turkmenistan, from a private collection.













Bought myself a present, and am very pleased with it:
a stack of 48 indigo squares from South Africa, each
with a different pattern...
























... and I attended a 2-hour-workshop on free hand
machine writing, which brought me a little closer to
feeling able to tackle it...

19.6.09

A Calmer




































...the moths are eating away at the chestnut trees
again - quite a sad sight...

"Whether success or failure: the truth of a life really
has little to do with its quality. The quality of life is
in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity
for delight is the gift of paying attention."

(May Sarton - borrowed at Whiskey River)

15.6.09

Ceylon Tea Batik (3)

A Mixed Media piece I made from some of
the dyed fabric. It was meant to be sunbeams -
and turned out to look like
- a fishface...
























"Da, wo Kolumbus Indien sucht,
wo die grossen Schiffe versinken,
wo einem, ohne zu blinzeln,
ein Fisch ins Auge schaut.
wo es aussieht wie auf dem Mond,
wo der Mond aussieht
wie das Ei der Nacht,
wo man sich fragt, ob man umkehren soll
oder nicht,
wo man nicht umkehrt,
weil es schauderhaft schön ist."

(Jürg Schubiger: Wo ist das Meer?/Where is the sea?)

Where Columbus searched for India,
where the big ships sink,
where, without blinking,
fish look you right into the eye.
Where it looks like on the moon,
where the moon looks
like the egg of night,
where you ask yourself whether you should
turn around or not,
where you don´t turn around,
cause it´s awfully beautiful.

14.6.09

Ceylon Tea Batik (2)

Some more impressions of my recent tea
dye experiments - I caught a moment when the
late afternoon sun was shining through a few pieces,
hanging (indoors) on a line to dry.
One could imagine it being big sheets, under a
Ceylon evening sky, but it´s only small scraps...
Funny how on a trivial photo trivial things
sometimes can take on a dreamlike gloss

















"What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story.
And the greatest good is little enough: for all life
is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.”

(Pedro Calderon de la Barca, 1600-1681)

11.6.09

She-by herse-lf

Here´s a glimpse of a new project













...which was inspired by this corner of an image
from a magazin














Though the photo is of a picture over a
sideboard, mine´s going to be a bookshelf of
sorts, with books stacked in it, and keepsakes.
I´d like to have something like that I guess, but don´t...
Besides the momentary inevitable bird&fish-theme
there´s a book already on the shelf named "moving into
stillness", that´s a story I once wrote (and the title of
a book on yoga)...


"A great book should leave you with many experiences,
and slightly exhausted. You should live several lives
while reading it."

(William Styron)

9.6.09

Child of fish and flower...













Have been working on this mellow (and
calming...) little creature

"Du bist vom Wind erlöste Ackerkrume,
du bist ein Kind von Fisch und Blume.
Aus allem aufgehoben,
bist du der Wunsch der Seele..."

(Wolfgang Borchert, from: Der Vogel/The Bird)

You are topsoil, redeemed by wind,
you are the child of fish and flower.
Lifted out of everything, you are soul´s desire...

8.6.09

Seen

Some more blue messages appeared (on a railway bridge
in Berlin-Kreuzberg)...




































... and inspired me to make these
(Stille = silence/calmness, Glück = happiness - words
taken from a randomly selected bookpage)

4.6.09

How does sleep smell

Clumsy´s growing ...
























"manchmal fallen Wörter aus den Fenstern
oder es regnet in den Büchern
dann tagelang nichts
und immer beim Aufwachen die Frage
wie Schlaf riecht"

(Sabina Naef: manchmal fallen wörter aus den fenstern/
sometimes words fall from windows)

sometimes words fall from windows
or it rains inside books
then nothing for days
and always on waking
the question
how does sleep smell
(transl. by A. Lawrence)

3.6.09

Fishbird

















"I think all fish are birds,
the sea a sky..."

(from Luke Davies: Slide)