THE SPACE BETWEEN STARS

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

.. "I used to know a sculptor... 
he always said that if you looked hard enough, 
you could see where each person carried his soul in his body. 
It sounds crazy, but when you saw his sculptures, it made sense. 
I think the same is true with those we love...  
our bodies carry our memories of them, 
in our muscles, in our skin, in our bones. 
’My children are right here.’, she pointed to the inside curve of her elbow. 
Where I held them when they were babies. 
Even if there comes a time when I don't know who they are anymore. 
I believe I will feel them here."


- Erica Bauermeister, 
'the School of Essential Ingredients'
My child is right here, I think to myself and search for the word
for the place between collarbone and jawline as I trace my own skin.
I realize there is a place where I carry him still,
for when I find it my hand bends softly in a semilunar shape in the air,
in a soft bend as if grasped it still the whole of his small downy head.
There I held him when he was a baby and it's there I feel him still.
On his own skin it's also right there that his second ever
birthmark has just formed. A tiny dot so faint it feels as if it could
start flickering like a faraway star and fade away again.
His first, and for a long time only birthmark, is identical to one
I've had myself my entire life. A larger, all round and softly shaped bump,
impossible to escape, between the bend of the arm and the wrist.
One I would try to hide with sleeves and felt ashamed of when younger,
for reasons I can't even remember now. His one looks faultlessly
like mine and is placed specifically in the same spot.
In a letter once, before we had even met, his pappa wrote that
our birthmarks are star maps, arranged so that we will
find each other through the lives, again and again.
I hold my hand there, in the air right above my skin. Our place.
Another truth that can't quite be identified, only felt.
The understanding that such weight, such soul, is often found in the
seemingly empty spaces.









THE CONFESSIONS

Thursday, April 4, 2019

With Makers and Muse we were inspired by, - and rewrote the original
Proust Questionnaire to become the Makers and Muse Confessions.
I have an idea to interview some other makers and muses this year and
thought I'd better start by sharing my own answers to it.
1. What do you make?

Photographs and love.

2. What is your current state of mind?

Excited, confused, rebellious, tired, in love, curious and longing.

3. Which living maker do you most admire?

The ones that use their vocation to also make a difference in the world.

4. Describe what the word 'muse' mean to you? 

Mm.. Whiskey in a teacup.
Meaning power and influence out of an often illusory delicate source..
that's powerful to me.

5. Do you have one.. muse that is?

In work, yes. In life, no. But I must find me one for that, methinks..!
6. What is your most treasured possession?

My health if that can count as one, no question.

7. Describe yourself in three words.

Mellow, passionate and peculiar.

8. How do others describe you, in two words?

Laidback and creative.

9. What do you most like about your appearance?

My eyes perhaps. They give us away all the time..!
Not practical at ALL, but quite endearing somehow.

10. What do you find attractive in others?

Complete presence, beautiful hands and whiskey voices.
11. What virtue do you find overrated?

Honesty.
 I think it's a bit of a muddy concept and it's so subjective.
We often confuse it with 'truth', I think, and while
the truth can set us free, honesty can be very selfish.

12. What surprises you?

Countless things..! But I have the memory of a goldfish apparently.

13. What is the lowest depth of misery to you?

To lose sight of one's own soul. Bad things follow that one.

14. What is the highest form of love for you?

Agape.
Agape love is always shown by what it DOES.
15. Which famous muse do you admire?

There are so many remarkable women.
I want to say womanhood as a whole, as one body,
is the most admirable muse. And it IS to me at the moment.
I'm on a very palpable journey in that right now
and I'm most probably far from alone.

16. On what occasion do you lie?

To get into parties and to get out of going to parties.

17. What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Being in the moment.

18. What word do you most overuse?

'Truly.'

19. What inspires you?

The unexpected.

20. If you could be anyone, who would it be?

I'm kind of busy doing the me-thing, figuring that one out.
21. What do you most value in your friends?

The ability, or quality of the friendship, to be able to naturally
share both dark and light rooms together, with equal love, understanding,
humour and respect in both.
Shared history also more now, living abroad and 'away'.

22. If you were a thing, what would it be?

Ooh.. the possibilities..! 
A lottery ticket that gave the right person the high of a lifetime.

A lie detector if we're talking what I'm most like rather than what I'd love to be.
I'm intuitive and read people quite well without really thinking about it,
so I can most often tell when people are lying or 'feel' what is not said.
A cruel 'gift' at times. One I think comes from being very much
an observer growing up.

23. Where would you most like to live?

Part-time between England, the south of Italy and Bali.

24. What is your greatest fear?

Death too soon and death too late.

Also great whites and death by choking on a piece of candy,
perhaps the most unnecessary way to die there is.
(So all my real friends know that if the latter was to happen,
the official story is I died saving someone else from a great white.)
25. What trait do you most deplore in others?

Abuse of power.

26. What trait do you most deplore in yourself?

My forgetfulness always. And sometimes my own romanticism.

27. Which late maker do you most admire?

Frida Kahlo. In so many ways.
Except for her artistic talent, she had such an amazing resilience 
and I so admire that she lived her life entirely as she was.

28. Name the fictional character you most identify with?

Mm..tricky one..! Perhaps in between the lines of Persis
[from Louisa May Alcott's 'Diana & Persis'] and Lily Briscoe
[from Virginia Woolf's 'To the Lighthouse'] mixed with
Maria Elena in the movie Vicky Christina Barcelona.

29. What do you spend your money on?

Wine, books, flowers and candles.
And travel, - back and forth between the people I love.
30. What do you consider your greatest achievement so far?

Staying true to myself and not going altogether insane in the process.

31. What quality do you most like in a man?

Self-knowledge is very sexy.
That and loyalty is a killer combo for me.

32. What quality do you most like in a woman?

Guts.

33. What is your favourite swear word?

Fuck trumpet..!
(Although I'm not that musical so I most often leave the trumpet out.)

34. What is your motto?

There's only one I really, in real life, come back to,
- Just Go.

35. If heaven exists, what would your God say when you arrive there?

- "Welcome back, honey..! The others are waiting."




x

If one is a curious soul the other's confessions are to be found
on the Makers and Muse instagram account
(from Emma, maker of moving imagery on December 10th and forward).

.. and I'd LOVE to hear some of yours..!






WITH TIME

Saturday, March 16, 2019


How should I kill in me
the various forms of madness
and be at the same time tender and lucid,
creative and patient, and survive?

- Hilda Hilst, from 'With My Dog-Eyes'


The books lay in stacks on one bedside now.
Almost equal parts children's fairy tales, poetry collections and novels.
The ones atop have gotten their paper coats dented by innumerable teacups
that don't leak but still always leave as if growth rings.
When the white freesias in the glass, that also crowds up there
begin to scent the air, flowering a heady sweetness I otherwise don't
favour, - only then is it really night somehow.
Now, like this, I love its intoxication; as I turn away from stacks of books, son
and man, to meet the cold nocturnal air from the window pulled up open,
with my face open too, and somehow more naked towards the night
than the day.
It's one of the most beautiful things I know, that moment before sleep.
I lay on the inside of what feels like everlastingness thinking about how time rumbles on.
In the room, there's only darkness, the scent of flowery wood and naked breaths.
Outside the large window with its old wavy glass, there's as though
a vaudeville backdrop I've given up trying to do justice with words.
Backyards bathed in an amber light ostensively dreamed up.
In me, there are those words.
How should I kill in me
the various forms of madness
and be at the same time tender and lucid,
creative and patient, and survive?




x


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