Tuesday, 22 September 2009

Movies and other historic portraits


Must confess I've lately fallen well under the influence of Sofia Coppola.. I mean, not influence as such, but I am in such Sofia Coppola vibe today... I first started to notice her work and then realized if I was into movies, I'd probably direct the exact same way as she does and lastly, I watched Marie Antoinette twelve or so times today and began to forgive the little idiot. The sad, too adult and unfortunate life of the heroine in Lost in Translation is in this movie the exact reverse - Marie's existence is kitschy, hectic, short and childish. I used to think 'down with the aristocracy!' pretty clearly and now I'm just weary of historic reports. Gods know I have seen more of the history's backstage than a regular Herodotus. Those imposing, majestic portraits of kings and generals in 8o-pound gilded frames in museums which are the size of pocket states, those continue to deliver the stories of these memorable men in such ridiculously romanticized way, we think they must have been righteous people, to be so pompous.

Didn't care much for Virgin Suicides, that story was just sick. I do have Lost in Translation on speed dial, mostly because I can't get enough of footage of Tokyo and if it's shot through the eyes of a visitor, foreigner and a talented one at that, then the cultural differences are bridged.. Similar thing happens in The Brave One, where Neil Jordan delivers a portrait of New York as only a foreigner in awe could.

Taking the huge leap from the depressed, lonely, minimalistic shooting of Lost in Translation, the girl takes us to the worst of Versailles..
               Personally I've experinced those circles twice - first while still in high-school, smitten by the plots and power of the court of the self-anointed king of Sun, Louis XIV, knowing the names and short histories of all his courtiers, ministers, mistresses and favorite servant, as well as the stories of some of the buildings and women involved in those.. Second time it was less in awe and more as a villain.. And it is too easy to look down on the rich and to think they had them coming with that business with the guillotine.
                But honestly.. It was bad enough that vast majority was viciously inbred and sick one way or another, but they were brought up so blind and ruthless.. Almost everyone's upbringing is inevitable, there's just no way of getting out of it unless you know better and most people never learn. My country has almost no colored folk and everyone looks at non-countrymen as if they were freaks. We don't mean anything truly wrong by it, we just do it. I was scared shitless of Arabs when I first got to Africa. They all looked to me like the creeps from To Ten Most Wanted posters. But still - to see an Asian in our street is an anomaly. They seem to belong only to the restaurants, other than that people stare. A child of different appearance is still molested in school, no matter how confused by it..

Then again, I was always the social outcast myself, and I didn't look particularly unusual. True, my mother cut my hair and for all her well meant effort, it did ruin almost all my childhood photos, but no matter what, even in kindergarten, I was off. People can sniff I'm off within hours of knowing me and that's when I am putting all thrusters into 'normality mode'. I've grown to be pretty happy about it, but I probably annoy a whole lot of people without even realizing it. So many must have been hurt so much while the hurting party never even knew it. 

There are still some issues between me and death. I KNOW there has to be illness and accidents and I know EVERYBODY dies, but to read about those poor people, torn apart by the mob, literally ripped to pieces and the estate thrashed to bits.. I can believe someone would have suffered for so long they had nothing left but wrath to demolish icons responsible, but still.. That was one hell of a swipe the French revolutionaries swung. Hope later rulers of this kinky little planet learned never to allow it to get this far again. Kim Jong-il may want to read a book. 

Monday, 21 September 2009

Brewfest on WoW.... hihi. So cute :D ... hic!....
Yeesh I'm sleepy :S


Been sorting the cards all day. It's time for the new wave, the autumn set of the wee Ninovelas and as the national post office is my No.1 demand, they make the rules: everything is in foil shirts, everything has their own code, printed especially for the PO, labeled over the original coding system I use to track the sales... Lucky thing I am really into sorting and packing and labeling (been my favorite part of my postgirl days, which is also lucky, as I had the second biggest region in household amount and would have to come to work an hour early just to be able to finish as soon as the rest. (Some had a third of what I had, but their regions would be wider spread in mileage. I got the easy, cushy one mileage-wise as mine were mostly skyscrapers and once you've learned the names on all busted mailboxed in the dark hallways of those, it got sandbox(y :D) ....).... On a related, hehe, funny story - one of the rare lies I've uttered and then apologized for profusely to my future husband was, when I walked into my new work...post... and immediately got handled to the controller (kind of 'conductor', the manager of the hive), he asked me one question adn one vital question only: You're good with the bike, right?... And I said... *ughhh* Definitely! Rode it all through college!

              Course I've never even seen a moped up close and mostly hated anything that moved faster than me if I wasn't driving it, save maybe rockets, but it was getting clear there was gonna be no slow entry into the magic of postmen for me and the look on Piček's face as he saw me try to maneuver the moped around the yard was priceless.. Later when I said 'I admit I lied to you once.. I couldn't really ride a moped when we first met', he patted me on the head, saying 'Love, hate to be the one to break this to you, but that was fairly obvious to just about anyone who watched you that day.'
                
Oki, back to now.. Piček's working nights to earn more money on his end and I'm sorting 20 cards into 50 class I. and class II. posts. I have to wake him up in a couple of minutes and it's usually best to start early, as the first 20 minutes I'll probably be immobile, entangled in the resto druid root trap of his limbs. I love the way he snores when he's on his back. It's like a caramel would snore or a chestnut. I'd press my ear to his chest, but that disturbs him and he jerks and rolls over, usually burrying me underneath..

Sunday, 20 September 2009

Poker night (if you don't wanna be a loser, then quit playing like a jerk!)



I hate losing :(

I did everything right. I googled all the rulz. I read the history on Wikipedia. I listened to Lady Gaga 140 times. I practiced my 'village idiot' look in every reflective surface that failed to flee me and I ate nothing but poker foot for HOURS beforehand, and still i lost :( In my defence, however, I DID tell everyone around I always win and my co-players were taking it especially hard out on me.

*eye* *heart* Texas Hold'em. *HearT*

Sitting down behind that huge desk with Edko to keep a watchful eye over us, snacks all around, cold coke, cigarette smoke, the kid farming saronite in the back, Cuban music from the pub across the street, mutant spiders catching mosquitoes and the sound of chips coming and going... This time mostly going...

Now... Bare in mind that my sister is a naaaaasty player - she's had to play against our mum her whole life and our mum is murder. (Tho in Tarok, not Poker. 'Why I don't do Tarok). Piček, naturally, is the sort of a player you read about in fantasy novels - the kind that looks he's about to maul you if you cross him and probably the second strongest reason why I don't steal chips while others are doing faces at the fish.. First being then it just wouldn't be as much fun.

And Maggie was a pro for years, so..

The mean, genuine *poker* look being taken, as well as the master reader/bluffer and my sister, the only role available was the village idiot. For some reason I am a natural for that one... And When i play well, I really play well, but of course sometimes I'm just an idiot and I don't pay attention until I am literally down to one chip. And I'm not saying one with three digits on it, one with the digit ONE on it. THEN I start playing as I should and I linger in the game for another hour, until finally I run out of luck as well as wit.

Then I cry.

I am such a sour loser .. Hihihi. But next time, surely next time, I shall win again!!!!

















The props :)

And of course the commodore: Edko

Friday, 18 September 2009






I've been doodling with these old shots - one of my earliest photo shoots with minimum tech and looooots of pickies taken against a mud hut wall. The model was just some chubby girl I met along the way while travelling.
There is so much one can do with a photoshop, but the question is - what is the message and more importantly - what's the style that passes for signature. So far I continue to be completely smitten by Zhang Jingna's clarity and flawlessness of portraits and I've already made myself a 9 ft board with aluminum foil to aid me in taming the light in my next photo shoot...

In the meanwhile, I'm mangling these.. Too tired for anything else..

It's kinda unsportly how a single portrait (and it's half the victory if it's taken in good light and superb quality. easy to go down, bit less easy to go up in that aspect..) can be taken in so many directions... Low saturation provides for a mild, simplistic outcome, while the other direction - fierce contrast can provide for an exotic, kind of tempestuous, 'hot pepper' kind of version... There's always the ever classy Black&White, and my continuous attempt at retro, and something that happens just by pressing the wrong button...

Those are usually the best ones :))