Mornings at the Station

It’s getting dark. Once again, an impressionist shot. But I will say that this darkness is unusual – for one, crappy camera, but also today has been a particularly foggy day, and it’s only getting worse now that evening is upon us.

I’m enjoying the atmosphere of the second shot, though. I’m standing between the two tracks, and something about that light effect and the out-of-focus is very appealing to me.

The usual angle, as it were…
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Incidentally, I am currently reading José Saramago’s Blindness (mixed feelings). Today’s weather is a lot like his characters describe their blindness: just a lot of white. Although the fog here is probably less luminescent; going home is going to be interesting. Oh yes, and we lost all our snow.

Speaking of keeping a lid on things, I travel next week to Macedonia again, returning on the 23rd. I have mixed feelings about this trip, but I guess it’s good to be recognized?

Contortions

Many things have fascinated me over the course of my life, not necessarily because I understood or understand them fully, but usually because there is some element of incomprehension – the idea of Schrödinger’s cat, for example, or a mysterious book that is actually a treasure hunt. While the first led to many… odd creations of art that included cats perched pensively in boxes in outer space surrounded by snakes and spiral galaxies, the second had gorgeous paintings of their own that I can still remember clearly (though I never solved the riddle itself).

About a year ago, I found myself returning to the paintings of Masquerade – though subconsciously. I was playing around with cats contorted into unusual positions by virtue of being forced into a small box: the frame, as it were. The whole idea was that you could place it any way you like, there was no proper up-down orientation. Later, as it happened, I had to adjust the subject matter to more closely align to a colleague’s preferences, and the final painting is of a horse (of course), about 10cm x 15cm.

It even works when upside down.
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And although one’s own paintings should look familiar, there was something more to it that wouldn’t stop poking at the back of my brain, until I remembered this image:

A page from Masquerade by Kit Williams.

Not quite the contortioning example of equine flexibility I came up with, but one can see the signs of influence. And it’s always fascinating how these sorts of little things can come together to become something new and different.

Anyway, I like my horse-in-a-box, and one day I will also complete the originally-intended cat-in-a-box.

To be honest, I always pictured Schrödinger’s poor cat as something of an unfortunate astronaut.

Vanitas of Mushrooms

As tends to happen, I’d forgotten about these beauties. This is a fungal skeleton I came across one early autumn morning, and in that delicious light, it was irresistible. The word that comes to mind is fragility.

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Translucency at its best.
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Delicate like a thin film of soap.
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One with the light.
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For more mushroom fun, I found this wonderful piece:

And Sting has the perfect song for us:

Closer to the Sun

I work on (essentially) the fourth floor so I have a great view of some rooftops. As we had another sunny day, I couldn’t help myself and gave the work camera another workout. Most photos below the fold, since I got a bit… carried away.

(They’re a bit of an obscure Canadian band but something about them caught my ear – their music makes me a little bit happy, a little bit upbeat, a lot like winter sunlight…)

It was much earlier in the morning – I had my fun before the work day began, and it was beautiful.
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A Pair of Beautiful Mornings

As promised, same time, same place… Except does the ‘same time’ argument count if it’s a few weeks later?

First, an overcast morning. I was a bit disappointed because the previous morning had been clear skies and lovely dawn colours, but as it happens, I didn’t have a camera on me – I’ve been using the work camera since the dog out country chewed up my handy little soapbox, and my phone camera has given up ages ago (the selfie camera leaves much to be desired). So I borrowed the work camera, but this particular morning insisted on a blanket of clouds. Oh well, says I.

Lovely snow everywhere. Though a bit thin.
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Then I left the work camera at work, of course, and the following morning arrived – clear skies, and those lovely dawn colours through the darkness. Screw it, I thought to myself – this needs a photo. And did my best with the selfie camera on my phone. Just pretend it’s an impressionist painting, and I think you can get past the blurriness and enjoy the atmosphere.

Bit of a different angle because the photo I took from the platform was terrible. See the drama!
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It was still November when I took these photos, and the picture shows, I believe, electric train cables.

Achievement Unlocked: Status “Winter Wonderland” Acquired

Yes, it’s a winter wonderland out there right now (complete with angry driving and the fools who didn’t change to winter tires on time because ‘the law says December 1!’). I have said it before, and I will say it again: I love snow. A winter without snow is a desolate mess of oversalted streets and sooty puddles and pure, unadulterated darkness (and this ain’t even Finland!), but a winter with snow – ah! Ice Swimmer said it once, twice the light, and this is true. Yes, it’s a slushy, desolate mess in the city, but I far prefer hopping the irregular snow banks to slogging along the dirty trottoir without them.

Alas, the work schedule forbids me daylight hours, but here’s a glimpse into the wonderland of my backyard. I can only hope that there will be more.

It’s not much, but it makes a difference, even in that orange sodium glare.
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Little solar light, doing its best, wearing a lovely winter hat!
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Wee little icicles! So long as they’re not hanging from our eaves, they’re adorable.
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Look at that crispy goodness!
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The beginnings of the skating rink – after a years’ hiatus, it will be up this year! Though I’ve been told there will be no skeleton track. Boo.
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And I had to retake the previous shot, because Ronja insisted she had to get in on the photo fun. She’s all puffed up and happy.
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Singing the beauty out, it’s the Latvian Voices – the video is shot in the attic part of the National Art Museum (worth a visit), which is all painted white, and I hope this is a good omen for the winter to come.

 

Winter Light

With yesterday’s sunny weather, the buildings across the street at work were showing off some beautiful crisp lines and shadows.

This is the view down the street – it’s not so much the buildings you should enjoy, but that lovely low golden light. About as bright as it gets.
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And here’s the view across the street – you can see the years these two were built, and also compare and contrast the degree to which they’ve been taken care of.
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Detail of 1912, it’s got a funky little piece of identifying art at the top: judging from the implements, someone in the building industry (engineer or architest) was the initial owner of the building.
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Here’s 1900 next door with no such identifying marks, but it has a certain respectability to it.
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Snow-clad rooftops against that pale, delicate sky…
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An hour later, the sun had moved enough to cast significant shadow and all the impressive lighting was on the other side of the building.
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Indeed, nothing compares to the magic of a sunny winter’s day. Who knows how many we shall have this year?

Winter Has Come

And nobody knows for how long!

This morning I left home about a half hour later than usual because I had to take the car in for pre-winter-season servicing, which is always a fun time of year, but that’s not the point.

The point is the wonderful clear winter morning light – compare the darkness with the photos from the train station a few weeks ago. I’m determined to get that same shot tomorrow, though I have no idea if it will be overcast darkness, or the wondrous pearly dawn we had today. In any case, here’s the backyard all snowy, and the subtly dramatic colouring of the sky, heralding a sunny winter’s day:

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There’s a bright light in the sky!
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This isn’t a theme with the moon again – but it’s interesting to see the same half moon at a different angle.
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And the song I wanted by this band, Fight the Feeling, could not be found by me on youtube, but here’s something appropriate in theme by The Music.

Imaginary Experiments in Transgenics

I have a colleague who has a pet horse and also a pet spider.

This is the card she got for her birthday:

I haven’t worked out the internal anatomy. That’s an issue for an actual geneticist, I’m just the conceptual artist!
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It’s a bit rushed because I totally forgot that I had to have it done for that day, but I had the idea all set up in my head. And mostly got it right.

Kosmoss

As somebody famous once said, we are the pale blue dot. From far enough away, invisible. Insignificant. Tiny. An isolated speck in an isolationist universe. In the cold mountain air, I found the stars had an extra sharpness at night. Humans can go so far in that darkness, but it is laughably close on the grand scale of galaxies. Here’s a peek into the great universe, as taken by me in Austria:

Our satellite, our companion.
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My favourite constellation, Orion. We call it the Hunter here, and I wonder if its variety of names is as diverse as that of the Big Dipper?
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But as much as I want to be just excited about another scientific and technological achievement, it’s hard to disconnect from the news today. Humans can be so selfish, and inconsiderate, and greedy, and destructive. Anyway, here’s Muriel Rukeyser back in 1968:

I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.

It appears to be the second century of these wars. And the universe goes on and will go on without us, because humans are just that important. I just wish we could be selfish enough to consider mutual survival.

Working Iron

I’ve noticed metalworking is a bit of a theme around here (thanks to Charly, kestrel and Marcus), and so it’s no coincidence that I discovered a new fantastic personality in the field of Women Blacksmiths:

Her name is Elizabeth Brim and she’s made her name forging and inflating playful, elegant, and unexpected objects out of iron, a decidedly indelicate material. Bourdain travels to her home in North Carolina to meet with the pearl-wearing master metalsmith, first as she meticulously fashions a flower and then as she spreads knowledge to her students at the Penland School of Crafts.

“I was brought to believe that I needed some man to take care of me and to pay the bills and to make sure the oil in my car was changed and my tires were good… and so I’m really proud that I was able to pay that house off by selling my work,” Brim says to Bourdain when they talk about the aftermath of a failed marriage. She’s just so, so great. Bourdain himself even says she’s the type of woman his own daughter will grow up to be.

The video at the link is her interview with the late Anthony Bourdain. It’s worth a watch, she seems such a fantastic character and I would love to spend a day with her, in her forge or elsewhere.

Loreena McKennitt has a nice song about a blacksmith, but he’s a two-timing, gaslighting liar, so here’s Ani DiFranco instead:

Bauska – Part 2

As promised, a quick visit to the old castle in Bauska! Basically it’s a small uneven field of stones surrounded by red brick walls. Its piece de resistance? The old tower still stands and has been fortified for climbing.

Now back in the day (the ’90s), they used the old ruin for an outdoor nighttime performance of Hamlet, and actors were placed on the crumbling walls, making entrances and exits in dramatic lighting (mostly open fire, what can I say) and apparently the show was really something else. Would love to have seen that, alas – I am left only with my imagination, as today’s many, many safety standards would prohibit even the attempt of something similar (and thank goodness for those standards).

Anyway, here’s the soundtrack, and enjoy the bricks!

A peek back to the ‘new’ castle. Watch out, there might be intruders approaching!
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I Answer Crip Dyke’s Question

A while ago, Crip Dyke had a question. I answer it here: the performance.

It’s potentially a limited-time offer (up to 7 days!), also it might be a country-limited offer, but it’s worth a shot. I recommend not trying to figure out the story-line, because even die-hard fans of the epic poem had a tough time figuring it out (due to the lack of actual stage action – it was more concert than theatre). It’s two hours of odd and epic music, but skip the first 7 minutes, it’s a boring intro of people talking. See if you can guess my three favourite manly soloists (all the female vocalists were awesome, but my especial favourite is the one who shows up in the silver dress).

I’m standing pretty much in the middle of the choir behind the stage, third row from the bottom. I don’t clap when everyone else is clapping (for anyone who makes it that far).

I add a few photos of the light-show as viewed from behind the stage during rehearsal.

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