Friday, 28 February 2014

Feeling sad and stupid. And tired. And sad. And stupid.

I have to re-arrange my plans for the weekend and find a new venue for the project that was going so well this morning, though in reality all I wanna do is curl on a couch somewhere and sleep this shitstorm over. Last night was a really lovely night. I think I'm gonna go crawl back into the memory of it until it's morning again.

Bishop and Tove

... some things demand respect :D Or fur will fly.


Anka

Shot a dancer for a video today. I couldn't help but to take a billion photos of her, she was so mesmerising. Dancers have this power over body that sucks the light and shadow into command - you cannot go wrong with them. Now I just have to make sure she is not the most interesting part of the video :D


















Too busy to post, but yeesh Gods, the stuff happening :D

Well. If one is trying to organise an orgy, that is of course 97 % a harmless joke... It's the same with telling people you want to photograph them naked. Unless of course it turns out to be a great success. Then it's not a joke. Not that such an ambition has ever left me with my head on before. I do so enjoy a beautiful love story... especially if it actually happens - and I am to collect the credit.
   But no, it hasn't happened, nor have I managed to photograph anyone naked yet. I have, though, left a blatant breadcrumb.. or a bread loaf for a guy to follow the girl and as result, spent the last seven or so hours sitting between them, carefully waiting for a spark to ignite... That was like watching two positive protons mate. Come ON people! You're both young, beautiful, I would write you both a sonnet! With a happy ending!
   Why is the real world always so careful and shy?

   I wonder if, provided I am not ever taken seriously, and my besties don't ever take offence I am trying to put my nose right where it does not belong, these are the people I will be excellent friends with for a very long time? This is the company I find myself taking great solace in. Away from drawing, away from family issues, away from money issues or the fact I never really seem to know what to say and always wanna start talking about Lord Of The Rings...

Drej started this three or four years back.. I've been enjoying the company of actual people more and more because of her every day.
  Provided I am never taken seriously :D Well, 97 % of the time, at least.
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Other than that, my timetable is ludicrous. Today the body fell into an odd state of shock from being over-worked, drawing such fine detail it left me shaking, starved and parched, near a fever. Yet, at the same time, hyped on everything that I'm working on. If I reduce my sleep radically, it will put me in a dull state of being high on deprivation and I will be able to roll through all the projects like I'm mad at it.. And then, come Tuesday or so, I will probably pass out, collect all kinds of viruses and germs and stay sick and drooling until, say, Wednesday.When I am tempted to try climbing again (Again.).

Tomorrow: filming, drawing (watching Xena), editing, vector drawing, selling tickets, watching movies; Saturday: drawing, selling tickets, going to see a play, photographing a masked party, also in the committee for the best costume, making pickies; Sunday: shooting a music video, drawing, editing.Somehow amidst all this I continue to have sex every day, wooing folk to pose for me and am almost at page 9 of that cool Cairo novel I've been reading for about two weeks now.
Did I ever mention I have a very small head?

Sunday, 23 February 2014

Couple of Iva's shots...

... I am not happy with them yet - I need to be able to make them more edgy, more purposeful. She is so very lovely - I'm the one who's being shy. That just won't do, having a shy camera :P




Gorgi smackdown


Funny thing, I sometimes get so overwhelmed (or excited, however you wanna call being high on thrilled), my body cramps so much I literally get muscle ache the next day. None of these is a negative emotion, I am simply stupid with happiness. Only bad thing are the blackouts, because I truly cannot remember parts of the event, so certain amount of good stuff is missing from the crazy picture. (Also, I think I paid the musicians, I just can't remember doing it. I already wrote them and tried to do the math, but even if the math fits, the memory of handling that detail is missing from my brain in its entirety. I really hope I didn’t fuck up. O.o ) There were SO many people!
Well. In a word, it was… going to be hard to best for a little while.
Here are some posters alarming folk about the event….
And the pancake stand.. Sanela and Rockstar are testing it.A pretty lady Ana is handing the heavy lifting.. 

FOOD!
I made a 100 pancakes (dad and dogs ate a few beforehand),  packed with stuff that should make people full for a fortnight, and yet they were all eaten, every single one. The beautiful girl whom I asked to make them handled it flawlessly. My in-laws brought BASKETS of yummies, but I kept those and will eat them thorough the coming week. Some of my nutty friends brought me prezzies, crazy cunts. Someone warned Niko, my moderator, that we look like we are totally flirting (and he was afraid General might beat him), but that is how I must look when super happy, like I’m in love, talking with someone who liked my book and was telling the people to buy it, read it and love it :D Actually, thanks to him, we actually covered the costs AND made some money! That hasn’t happened to me since… well, ever, actually.
The musicians were two perfect guitar players, singing perfect songs. It was really difficult not to start weeping, even though the songs weren’t sad at all. The prettiest boy God has ever created sang in a deep, harsh voice you’d never attribute to someone so tiny, and I could listen to them for another few hours. Naturally, I couldn't help myself running around, photographing stuff.

They sang Kreslin’s Od višine se zvrti (Heights will make you dizzy – one of the most beautiful songs you will ever find in Slovene language.), Chasing cars, Norwegian wood, some Nirvana and a few more songs I got completely lost into and cannot remember at this point.
So… Between a full house, all the pancakes eaten, my suddenly very large family, books sold, my besties, General’s face in the back or bringing me water, people listening to me read, hearing Maja and Tinka laugh, Niko asking me about thing I could never stop talking about, my mum and dad, the music and… being on stage, presenting my work…
I have to keep these things scarce. They really take the toll on my shyness :P

Being stupid, I of course forgot to take any photos of the people OR Niko, so here's one of him by Goran Radič (thanks, bro :))

This is the pickie of the stage by Jaka Lenček (who seems to think the guitar playing boy is a vampire??)


Friday, 21 February 2014

Literary eve tomorrow. Hopefully, this one will be a 100% more fun than the last one. The last one was only fun because Drej made it so. Which tells you something about Drej and not much else about sucky literary events.

Thursday, 20 February 2014

Earth - moon

Wow. That little shit is actually really far away... :/


Wednesday, 19 February 2014

Stage fright



I am getting a lot better at public speaking. Certainly, there are several factors to be taken into account, but I had a coffee date with a professor yesterday and he told me several things I’ve been doing wrong – and I am a fast student. Example. I hated not getting feedback from students – because 250 teenagers forced into a theatre aren’t the sort of a group you can really engage – so now I am not making eye contact but instead focusing on the rim of the balcony and speakers. Second. I had no idea what to do with my hands, especially having to hold the mic with my right – so I started holding a book in the other. (A comic book. Doesn’t matter.) I have a post-it on it, to check my facts, but mostly I know what I’m talking about, so I don’t really need that either. Third, I noticed this on my own, I needn’t really look at someone to listen to them, so I no longer feel strange when people are “sleeping” in the front rows. The guy told me that before I can project my love for movies onto a group of strangers, I have to have stage presence – which you simply cannot have if you’re scared. But by now halfway through the fist in my gut releases and I start having fun. Not feedback fun, just talking about movies kind of fun. The deepest thing he said was a reference to a snacks machine – you can a lot sooner talk about a machine that gives you food than your relationship towards eating. That was awesome. I can explain anything about the works of a theater, lights, seats, sound system, projector, screen, movie statistics… But talking about what it means to me and what it should mean to them…
Remaining: I still have to learn how to talk slower. And stand like a man. I mean a girl. I mean a hot babe. Ah, fuck it. I should just sit or lay down.. :P

Monday, 17 February 2014

Zbigniew

Alrightey then. Some people.




Sunday, 16 February 2014

Grande bellezza

Too tired for bilingual version, I'm posting this in my native tongue... Sorry, folk - just go see the movie, until I translate. You'll know what I mean ;))
..


Fotografi – no, nekateri, … no, jaz, ampak si ne drznem govorit posplošeno in v prvi osebi, ker se bojim, da me bo Jep zmlel v prah – fotografiramo lepe ljudi, da nam jih ni treba poželeti in lepe stvari, da ne rabimo biti odgovorni zanje.
Po čistem naključju sem ravno začela brati Jakubianovo hišo, ker sem med prodajanjem kart v kinu v starem NGju ujela intervju z avtorjem.. In po prvih nekaj straneh me blazno spominja na Marquezove Žalostne kurbe mojega življenja – ta film pa je tretja tretjina sozvočja – pripovedi o prepametnem plejboju, ki se skuša spomniti, kaj je to čustvo, kakršnokoli čustvo. Na koncu filma v palači spomina spet izbrska svojo prvo (oziroma, kar on skuša sebe prepričati, da je njegova velika) ljubezen, ni ta nič lepša ali čudovitejša od milijona kadrov v dvournem filmu pred njo. Krasna deklica s krasnima dojkicama, meh. Postarala bi se, tako kot on, v eno izmed babuh na žurih. Preglasnih žurih. Performanskih žurih. Tam so bili vsi videti, kot da so popolnoma nori. Čeravno… če bi s tako širokokotnim objektivom kdo snemal mene, kako pijana plešem, če bi pijana plesala v javnosti, bi bila verjetno videti enako tragična. Bili so torej popolnoma navadni ljudje.
Vsak prizor v tem filmu je narejen, kot da je zadnji – kar dvomim, da je naključje, zagotovo pa je zelo domiseln način, da sočutiš kako razstave  in poznanstva – vsak vreden romana, vsak žrtev kanibala, naslednjega prizora, polzijo staremu Jepu  med očmi. Moj najljubši, eden redkih res zgovornih, je, ko v treh minutah zbije svojo kolegico v kupček eksistencialističnega drekca – namreč strga make-up s popolnoma vsake njene prejšnje izjave, ki naj bi jo naredila večjo, boljšo od njega, od vseh na onem diner partiju. Ampak take reči si Josepe upa samo na lastnih zabavah, samo svojim kolegom. S tujci stresa puhlice o modi, z ženskami se samo spogleduje. Spodbuja jih, da se fotkajo v selfije. Spravlja se na umetnice, ki živijo od tega, da se z glavo zaletavajo v zid. V resničnem svetu začudeno strmi in se očarano nasmiha. Celo otroškim skrivalnicam. Ker se ne spomni, zakaj bi jih moral razumeti.  Ker jih ne zna ubesediti. V resničnem svetu je hudimano majhen – tako pred slabo osvetljenimi bogovi, krstami glupih znancev, kot žirafami. Okej, žirafe so slab primer. Nič ni večje od žiraf. Ne drzne si pisati o ničemer – ne drzne si niti pisati o »ničemer«, o  niču. Len je, namesto odeje se domače počuti pod oštevanjem svoje stare hišne pomočnice. Čudovito govori, ampak samo, ko je izzvan. Ne zna namesto nje same napisati recenzije o 471 let stari svetnici, ki mu zadrema na tleh v dnevni sobi, medtem , ko si on slači steznik. Celo, ko končno stoji pred tisto nesrečno Costa Concordio, se mu žaganje le-te zdi kot performance. Zdaj sem skoraj prepričana, da ne maram performanceov. Nekaj vulgarnega, podlega, vojeurističnega je na tem, da bi navaden smrtnik gledal, kako nastaja umetnina. Tega se naj ne bi počelo. Ampak človek se navadi, si najde opravičilo za svojo nekulturnost. Ko partnerka starega Jepa (ki je, mimogrede, v tistem kadru oblečena v goloto, ampak tega vam ne znam razložiti, morali bi jo videti, da bi razumeli in se strinjali) na žurki ne more več gledati, kako otrok besno in v solzah riše milijone vredno sliko, da bosta njen očka in mamica »srečna družina«, stari Jep le skomigne. Meh. Videl je že hujše.
Ne maram arhitektov, tudi to zdaj zagotovo vem. Rim (pa ne samo Rim, ampak še prav posebej Rim tega filma. Čakam, da vidim njegovo protiutež, Sveto Obvoznico) so spremenili v galerijo megalomanije, ki nikoli ne more biti topla na dotik. Vse je tako prekleto veliko – mostovi, vrtovi, stropovi, tista groteskna škrbina, osvetljena kot tiara - kolosej, napeta lica odvisnikov od botoksa, (ki so iz svojih obiskov mojstra pikanja tudi naredila performance),  postelje. Vsi so skulpture, pozabljene med kipi, ki se starajo malce počasneje, ampak ne dovolj počasi, da bi se jih v resnici občudovalo in častilo. Edino, česar se bojijo je, da so prestari, da bi njihovo mnenje kaj štelo. In kako krasno je v zgodbo vtkana vera – še en neskončno velik, teatralno osvetljeni kolos, v katerega glavi je restavracija ali mondena trgovina s čevlji.
Vsakič, ko vidim tak film, me pograbi panika ob snemanju mojega. Moj film je narejen na polovici, pa bi ga najraje nekam skrila (čeprav ga še nihče ni videl), in bila o njem čisto tiho, da ga tudi nikoli ne bo poskušal. Skozi mojega se po naključju ne sprehodi Fanny Ardant. Meni se moji karakterji ne smilijo. Kako si torej drznem sestavljati zgodbo iz črepinj nekih preteklih, ne markantnih življenj? Mi, ki gledamo tako lepe filme in potem o njih razglabljamo v dolgih stavkih? Edino, kar me dela boljšo od naftalinskih kneginj in debelih narkomank na rave partyju pri Gatsbyju je to, da se po odjavni špici zavlečem domov, v Celju, v brlog natrpan z barvicami in stripi in napol dokončanimi umotvori. Tu me čakajo tople, kosmate stvari, ki raje vidijo, da ne govorim preveč. Da o vsem skupaj naglas ne rečem nič.

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

Drawing and more drawing

Making vector graphics for a French Revolution project



and watercolors for the little witch picture book.


And posters for Gorgi :))


Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Alverde...

I know I sound, say, uh, 7000 years behind my time, but Alverde products are really getting me into makeup and beauty products. I can't get enough of their stuff. Maybe because it's really inexpensive, agrees excellently with my skin, natural and really good stuff, pigments-wise, or maybe because it's making showering fun. I have about five different shower products (stressing at this point that I absolutely hate showering and never ever bathe, because I cannot stand being wet), for five different parts of my wholesomeness, and i apply each in an order, depending on duration of supposed appliance... this sounds stupid, I know, but what I'm saying is - suddenly, for the first time ever, I have fun while showering. There was once a time when i was married to a gay asshole, and his fussing about beauty products made me steer clear of anything remotely cosmetic for a decade... Which i am now evidentally getting over. There were also times when I would never ever consider a pale pink lipstick... And yet, here I stand. Smelling and looking like a gentle vintage garden. :D


Ran into a person I haven't seen in a while today... There were times I actually wanted to do something about it and there were times when I figured some people feel better without having me in their lives. What amazed me about this encounter, though, is that i didn't recognise her. The features were familiar, so i though, ah, this is the sister of a person I used to know. But the voice locked straight into my memories and the looks were all the right kind of half careful, half cold, with a little bit of an opened door looks.. It was the person. Considering the first thing I did when I got home was send her a private FB message, I must have missed her a whole lot more than I'd admit... But if nothing ever comes of it, it will just be a story from times past... With vanilla waffles in it. And my first vibrator.

Sunday, 9 February 2014

Random thoughts

I sometimes get the feeling that if I were a guy, I'd be mean. Like, a real dick. I would probably be Cole or worse. Dunno why, I just think someone who has such little regard for rules might take advantage of his morality fatigue and act out. Also, every time I write about a man, he does something mean. I suppose power corrupts. And having a dick feels like having power - in your hands.
    Something tells me nature would have enabled men to reproduce on their own a long time ago, but they'd all just kill one another, so nature is cleverer than that...

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I ODed on whipped cream last night. I haven't had it in so long my tummy forgot how to handle it and then I had too much and am still sick :/ General calls this one of his 'told you so's.

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The fourth person has recently asked me to have an exhibition. I have to come up with better excuses than "I don't really like exhibitions, I'm shy." This time I said that I am not really exhibition material (we were talking illustration, not photography), because I am not a painter. That painters are proud of their work whereas illustrators love ours. Their work belong on the walls whereas ours belongs among people.
But I really should think of something better to say. "Sorry, i really don't like being in the centre of attention" isn't hitting any credibility lately.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

Another great example of tintype (famous folk of Sundance)

Thursday, 6 February 2014

Fornax :D

"Good heavens!"
"Exactly :D"




Another lovely balcony viewing with Maja – we watched Le passe, an Iranian – French movie about … well, pretty much a normal family. There is this point at which a very okay man, who just came to France to sign divorce papers, surely thinks: may I please go back to Tehran to calm down?... Okay, so Tehran isn't a bad place, but he could just as well be thinking this about … anyplace bad – Sochi, whatever. They deeply reminded me of my family. So much shit going on, that isn't really any shittier than everyday storms, people looking for deeper meaning where they never is one, people trying to connect the dots and then moving the dots to shape something that would offer redemption… Which wouldn’t change anything. Hopping for an easy answer, a happy ending when there really isn't any such thing in the normal life.. A teenager does something mean and stupid, the jealous infatuated help does something mean and stupid, but it was actually the adults that were doing the mean and stupid thing, because they needed to feel something nice.. It's life, y’know. Soon becoming history.  When are teenagers NOT mean and stupid? Or kids hysterical, acting out? Or adults too quiet, fucking up things because it is getting too complicated to breathe?
It was actually a really good movie. Well, lately every one I saw in Metropol was really good, no shocks there, I'm just surprised I can say that about a movie in which there is screaming, - ones I normally shun..
In all of it, I hated the kids the most, especially the little boy, what a fucking annoying little shithead… But of course it was the adults that were truly acting terrible. Kids were just being expressive. I wonder why I hate kids so much? Is it because I've long lost hope in adults and I actually want the kids to crawl out of it, secretly wishing there's hope for them yet?
Dunno. Probably some Freudian, demeaning answer there. The guy claimed clitoral orgasms are hysterical, which, in itself, makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.