..love... everything that moves n some things that stand still: patterns, see them everywhere n love it! the streets pix art music people, every part of them action of any kind trees n just watching them grow
"To take photographs means to recognize -simultaneously and within a fraction of a second- both the fact itself and the rigorous organization of visually perceived forms that give it meaning. It is putting one's head, one's eye and one's heart on the same axis."
Henri Cartier - Bresson
b&w
windows
n dont forget women!!! the best place for a good mix of art n women right here v
Music
whatever moves my body n soul making a list seams inappropriate since the list in my head is constantly growing jay styler,
stella chiweshe, afrirampo, swv, wadaiko ichiro, janis joplin, angelique kidjo, velvet underground, carl orff, prince, björk, bas1, frank zappa, mapaputsi, sinead o'connor, john cale, george clinton, zap mama, leonard cohen, ali farka toure, pink floyd, nazareth, eurythmics, annie lennox, lauryn hill, björn afzelius, black sabbath, womens voice, brian eno, feven, lou reed, patti smith, iggy pop n much much more
ok so here r a few writers i dont want to be without: tove jansson,
majakovskij,
alice walker,
kertész imre,
moa martinsson,
michail bulgakov,
paulo coelho,
edith södergran....etc
n i really get soft bout books for kids specially written by:
pija lindenbaum,
jockum nordström,
ian falconer
Heroes
WOMEN with their heads up high, working hard to make life good
against the macho world n religions!
About me:
to get deeper into me, click on pix below
'...the truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To them...
a touch is a blow,
a sound is a noise,
a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy,
a friend is a lover,
a lover is a god,
and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating'.
-Pearl S. Buck
pix i mostly end up taking pix of things around me the streets the signs the moves in my head but im not a photographer n i only got my cellphone camera some of these pix will become patterns n prints cause thats what i do, patterns n prints follow the link "i see" above to my photo blogs
words!
i use them as my inside diary, but im no poet or writer either i do however teach kids 2 float n prove 2 adults that they dont sink i am also learning 2 deal with my own ups n downs... this inside diary is posted in my blogs, the link "i talk" will take u directly to them
creativity! using all those most important bodyparts eyes hands lips skin mouth n more for all those bodyparts, go to 'i am' in the link above
...talk 2 me!
the streetpic below is changed regularly n is a street i walked on...or sometimes above...the day i post it...so mostly its in stockholm where i live n walk the streets ;) if u wanna check them all, since when i started, use the link 'i walk' above or check them at www.bettyjarrawalkingstreets.blogspot.com/ my blog outside of this place
street of the week
Who I'd like to meet: creative, straight forward, open n honest people with ideas, different thoughts, a sense of humour n who also enjoy sharing it n always my top 8!
if possible its my no 8 (16,20,24...last) friend who provides the music on my page
I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind.
I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves, closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves: whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind.
I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by, learning the last bright routes, survivor where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind. A woman like that is not ashamed to die. I have been her kind.
I was just going through your bodyparts picture file and feel like saying that you are so amazingly talented and joy-bringing, my beautiful friend, Be.
The inner voice in which we have trembled. The noise of our fear that is not a tick but a squeezing of the inner muscle not a tick but a motion in the blood we mistake for ticking except those of us in whom the valve flutters wasting
& who therefore must bow down & shut up after the strenuous blow not looking anywhere
Awaiting the receipt of gentleness a painstaking clearness
Where the chest & back meet, seamless ("You can go in, now")
A mazurka
ERIN MOURE from 6 NOTES FOR A MAZURKA MATISSE RED STUDIO
Whoever has no house now will never have one. Whoever is alone will stay alone Will sit, read, write long letters through the evening And wander on the boulevards, up and down...
Autumn Day Rainer Maria Rilke
Its stain is everywhere. The sharpening air of late afternoon is now the colour of tea. Once-glycerined green leaves burned by a summer sun are brittle and ochre. Night enters day like a thief. And children fear that the beautiful daylight has gone. Whoever has no house now will never have one.
It is the best and the worst time. Around a fire, everyone laughing, brocaded curtains drawn, nowhere-anywhere-is more safe than here. The whole world is a cup one could hold in one's hand like a stone warmed by that same summer sun. But the dead or the near dead are now all knucklebone. Whoever is alone will stay alone.
Nothing to do. Nothing to really do. Toast and tea are nothing. Kettle boils dry. Shut the night out or let it in, it is a cat on the wrong side of the door whichever side it is on. A black thing with its implacable face. To avoid it you will tell yourself you are something, will sit, read, write long letters through the evening.
Even though there is bounty, a full harvest that sharp sweetness in the tea-stained air is reserved for those who have made a straw fine as a hair to suck it through- fine as a golden hair. Wearing a smile or a frown God's face is always there. It is up to you if you take your wintry restlessness into the town and wander on the boulevards, up and down.
GRACE ... SUCH A WONDERFUL GIFT FROM THE GODS ! OR SOLELY AN ATTRIBUTE OF A DIETY OR GODDESS ? WHO CAN TRULY DEFINE SUCH MARVELOUS CONDITION AS GRACE ! YET WHEN ONE STANDS IN THE PRESENCE OF ONE WHO HAS GRACE , ONE IS TRANSFORMED , TRANSPORTED , ELEVATED , IN SPIRITUAL RAPTURE ! WHAT MAGNIFICENCE WHEN YOU STAND BEFORE A WOMAN AND YOU KNOW SHE IS DIFFERENT THAN THE REST ! SHE IS " FULL OF GRACE " ... ALL MY LOVE AND DEVOTION TO ALL THOSE " FULL OF GRACE " ... ( FROM THE ARTIST ,POET , ( M.A.) " SAINT " ( C.) 2009.
ABOVE - DETAIL OF ARTWORK " FULL OF GRACE " BY THE ARTIST , POET , ( M.A.) " SAINT " ( C.) 2009.
" FULL OF GRACE "
THROUGH TIME AND SPACE YOU ARE " FULL OF GRACE "
MAGICAL EQUATIONS BEAUTIFUL CONSTELATIONS EUPHORICAL SENSATIONS ONLY YOU MASTER MY ELATION
QUEEN LIKE NOTHING IVE EVER SEEN SWEETNES SO CLEAN " FULL OF GRACE " YOUR EVERY TRACE MAKE MY SPIRITS RACE
TO THAT PLACE WHERE HEAVEN IS YOUR FACE AND LOVE SURROUNDS MY UNIVERSE LIKE LACE
