Monthly Archives: November 2013

st, as story telling

team brave

“team brave”, 21×18 cm, pencil&white chalk (sketch for oil painting)

team wise

“team wise”, 21×18 cm, pencil&white chalk (sketch for oil painting)

“Human beings are story tellers by nature.”  Jerome Bruner

“The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.”  Ursula K. Le Guin

The story appears in every human culture in a multitude of colors: myths, legends, folktale, zen, joke, personal anecdote, novel, biography, tv, motion picture… Stories keep us motivated, uplift us, inspire, teach us. They are great source of collective knowledge and wisdom. Not all stories are good. But I guess the truly good ones easily transcend the notion of time and literally, pass over from one generation to another.

In the realm of good stories, this evening I’ll be attending a biography book presentation by Stipe Božić about Mate Šimunović. Mate was the first Croatian world traveler who, together with his dog Globus, traveled around the world from 1928 to 1947. They traveled by bike, horse, on foot and small sailing boat and thus crossed over 360.000 km and visited 70 countries in 5 continents.

I wish (read ‘working on it’) my paintings in the future can tell a good story. I’m not talking about illustrations, rather something else – a story that could be told using only colors, tones and lines.

I’ll be now finishing this story telling post with the words of beloved writer Ursula K. Le Guin: “The creative adult is the child who has survived.”

o, as orange day

o, as orange day

International day for the elimination of violence against woman

“Break the silence. When you witness violence against woman and girls, do not sit back. Act.”   Ban Ki – Moon

This man also proclaimed every 25th of the month as Orange Day .

…
I run marathon. I’ve started to write. Most importantly, I paint.

I wear orange running watch, orange earrings, my mobile is orange and basket of oranges saved my life when 7. Yet, till yesterday I didn’t know that ‘color day’ exists.

For those who do not know why is this day unfortunately extremely important, a 2 page glimpse is here.

All those who have birthday on 25th, hope you sleep well.

l, as love

l, as love

“a capella”, 25×35,3cm, pencil&aquarelle

One of the first news I’ve read today were these news. And I couldn’t agree more. I’ve been doing that since I decided to ‘reinvent’ myself. Somehow, only good memories from my past life started to nurture my heart&mind. Long term memory is a valuable thing, especially when used for ‘good things’. And what could be better than pushing the play button in your head and watching a new some great movie that actually happened to you. No cinema can beat that.

For couple of months or so I’ve been watching my movie about my stray dog Žućo (meaning ‘yellow/ish’). He was my 1st dog when I was about 4-5. My granny&mum didn’t allow me to bring Žućo home so he would wait in front of the building every morning or afternoon. I would bring bread and cheese to feed him and green comb to brush his coat to make him even prettier. I’ve also taken mum’s red scarf and tied it around his neck: I saw that dogs have some ‘things’ around their necks so my Žućo also needed something like that. He was mine.

Mum and granny didn’t like the idea that girly is playing with some ‘filthy dog from the street’. Whenever they would see us 2gether, they would start yelling as if I’m doing something bad. So the two of us would hide and enjoy our time: I would be brushing his coat, cuddle him and ‘we would talk’ for hours…at least the notion of time appeared so in a life of a 4-5 year old.

Then suddenly, Žućo went missing. I don’t know how long it was. I was constantly very sad that he’s not there where he used to be. I wasn’t worried cause small kids don’t worry > at young age one has no sense of what a worry is. Time passed and after a while I finally saw him from my window. I screamed “Žućo!”, garbed piece of bread and run out as fast as I could to hug him. While I was approaching the road in haste, Žućo was standing on the other side watching me and waiting kinda nervously >> stray dogs know very well ”you just don’t run onto a road filled with cars!!”. And then, in a split of a second, I heard scary truck breaks and some awful bump sound…All I remember is a man (driver) screaming at me and Žućo lying below my feet, both of us in front of the white truck. He was still breathing, heavily and very slowly. He looked as if nothing hurts him. But looking at him lying on the road, a 4-5 year old learned in a split of a second what ‘life worry’ is. I keeled down, gently touching him trying to convince him to eat some bread…I thought that with some magic a bread will make everything better. Lots of people gathered around us but I remember just one old man who bend down, gently took my hand and said; “you can’t do anything more for him now. he’ll be ok, don’t worry. and you, where are you parents, where do you live?”. He brought me home and guess told my granny and mum what happened.  Žućo saved my life.

This movie is not a sad one for me anymore. Quite opposite >> I feel in awe that super special dog, who had no one but me, saved my life. And maybe more than once 😉

Later on in ‘ex life’ we had Kiko (hunting dog), than Moro (rotweiller). But more than 4 years ago I finally got my own dog, funny havanese bichon. I call it ‘my economical & goofy dog’ 🙂 I named him Moro cause he’s cool as my rotweiler was. When he was just one year old, he also tried to save my life: though he saw the sea for the first time, he jumped into it off the cliff! People on the beach, who took care of him while I was taking a swim, started to scream like crazy. I got their attention and saw a tiny white thing swimming towards me. My Moro looks tiny but has an enormous heart and isn’t afraid of anything…except inflatable balloons.

Just recently I discovered that Moro (which was name of my grandpa’s first dog) is the coolest character in cartoon “Princess Mononoke”. Funny how things turn out in a ‘new life’.

Why people love dogs? …cause they freely give tons of joy, warm feelings, solace, peace, companionship, true friendship, loyalty, respect, understanding, happiness…all ‘for nothing’, without conditions. I would say that dogs are far better living creatures than most people. They can surely teach us a lot about love and how to love in life.

Long live our dogs!

w, as wolves

Image

“Dogs are magicians of the Universe”

“Woman who run with the Wolves”, Clarissa Pinkola Estes
tale: THE WOLF’S EYELASH – chapter 16                                                               

 If you don’t go out in the woods, nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin.

“Don’t go out in the woods, don’t go out,” they said.
“Why not? Why should I not go out in the woods tonight?” she asked.
“A big wolf lives there who eats humans such as you. Don’t go out in the woods, don’t go out. We mean it.”
Naturally she went out. She went out in the woods anyway, and of course she met the wolf, just as they had warned her.
“See, we told you,” they crowed.
“This is my life, not a fairy tale, you dolts,” she said. “I have to go to the woods, and I have to meet the wolf, or else my life will never begin.”
But the wolf she encountered was in a trap, in a trap this wolf’s leg was in.
“Help me, oh help me! Aieeeee, aieeee, aieeee!” cried the wolf. “Help me, oh help me!” he cried, “and I shall reward you justly.” For this is the way of wolves in tales of this kind.
“How do I know you won’t harm me?” she asked—it was her job to ask questions. “How do I know you will not kill me and leave me lying in my bones?”
“Wrong question,” said this wolf. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.” And the wolf began to cry and wail once again and more.
“Oh, aieee! Aieeee! Aieeee!
There’s only one question 
worthy asking fair maiden,
wooooooooor
aieeeee th’
soooooooool?” 
“Oh you wolf, I will take a chance. Alright, here!” And she sprang the trap and the wolf drew out its paw and this she bound with herbs and grasses.
“Ah, thank you kind maiden, thank you,” sighed the wolf. And because she had read too many of the wrong kind of tales, she cried, “Go ahead and kill me now, and let us get this over with.”
But no, this did not come to pass. Instead this wolf put his paw upon her arm.
“I’m a wolf from another time and place,” said he. And plucking a lash from his eye, he gave it to her and said, “Use this, and be wise. From now on you will know who is good and not so good; just look through my eyes and you will see clearly.
For letting me live, 
I bid you live
in a manner as never before.
Remember, there’s only one question
worthy asking fair maiden,
wooooooooor
aieeeee th’
soooooooool?”
And so she went back to her village,
happy to still have her life.
And this time as they said,
“Just stay here and be my bride,” 
or “Do as I tell you,” 
or “Say as I want you to say,
and remain as unwritten upon 
as the day you came,”
she held up the wolf’s eyelash
and peered through
and saw their motives
as she had not seen them before.
And the next time 
the butcher weighed the meat,
she looked through her wolf’s eyelash
and saw that he weighed his thumb too.
And she looked at her suitor
who said “I am so good for you,”
and she saw that her suitor 
was so good for exactly nothing.
And in this way and more,
she was saved,
from not all,
but from many 
misfortunes.
But more so, in this new seeing, not only did she see the sly and cruel, she began to grow immense in heart, for she looked at each person and weighed them anew through this gift from the wolf she had rescued.
And she saw those who were truly kind
and went near to them,
and found her mate
and stayed all the days of her life,
she discerned the brave
and came close to them,
she apprehended the faithful
and joined with them,
she saw bewilderment under anger
and hastened to soothe it,
she saw love in the eyes of the shy
and reached out to them,
she saw suffering in the stiff-lipped
and courted their laughter,
she saw need in the man with no words
and spoke for him,
she saw faith deep in the woman,
who said she had none,
and rekindled hers from her own.
She saw all things
with her lash of wolf
all things true,
and all things false,
all things turning against life
and all things turning toward life,
all things seen only
through the eyes of that
which weighs the heart with heart,
and not with mind alone.
This is how she learned that it is true what they say, that the wolf is the wisest of all. If you listen closely, the wolf in its howling is always asking the most important question—not where is the next food, not where is the next fight, not where is the next dance? –
but the most important question in order to see into and behind, to weigh the value of all that lives,
wooooooooor
aieeeee th’
soooooooool?” 
wooooooooor
aieeeee th’
soooooooool?” 
Where is the soul?
Where is the soul?
 
Go out in the woods, go out, If you don’t go out in the woods,
nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin.
Go out in the woods,
go out
Go out in the woods,
go out
Go out in the woods,
go out
 

v, as vanishing

v, as vanishing

photo: Maori, New Zeland

Stunning Portraits Of The World’s Remotest Tribes Before They Pass Away

I’m not gonna blabla about the article. Photos are gorgeous document by itself.

I’m gonna blabla a bit about people of 21st century, limiting myself to ‘Wests’. I’ve noticed that individuals are turning into manyviduals. Each person is becoming more and more like each other. The quest is on for being visually super-special for no reason and this hypnosis is especially celebrated on social networks > the new word is ‘selfies’. Yet, paradoxically, a person is turning to be less and less special. That visually funny, empty, less than sincere quest is sadly robing each person of its true character potential, own free will, mental strength, carefree feeling…happiness at the bottom of it all. I guess now it’s a bit easier to understand why a lot of indigenous people perceive taking their photographs equivalent to robing off their souls. But, people of 21st century have their ‘free will’, so let them have it.

Good documentary photography is a beautiful art by itself. It’s honest, at least tries to be.

My grand grand mother Ivana Noršić (from father’s side) was the first photographer in Sisak, Croatia (at that time, Kingdom of Yugoslavia; States of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs). She had her studio in the center and besides taking portrait photos, she was a true artist in coloring b/w photos. Museum of Arts and Crafts in Zagreb hold some of her photographs in permanent exhibition.

My grand grand mother and I share the same birth date. And love for photography. I fell in love with documentary photography since my first subscription to National Geographic, all the way back in the 80s. That fresh print smelling NG would arrive all the way from USA and in the time of no Internet made little girl very very happy. Dear mum, thanks a lot for that 🙂

s, as sagan

In his book “Cosmos”, page 3, it’s simply written:
“A galaxy is composed of gas and dust and stars – billions upon billions of stars.”

This man is always smiling on photos. I guess, some persons who are curious by nature like to smile a lot. Like children. I like to smile too, not to please the others, but just for the sake of smiling.

I read in “Cosmos” that at the age of five, when his mother got him a library card, he went there to get the answer what the stars were. When he asked a librarian to show him the book about the stars, the library fellow brought him a book about movie/hollywood stars. When he saw honest disappointment in kid’s eyes he understood what the kid wanted and showed him ‘the right one’: “The scale of the universe suddenly opened up to me…There was a magnificence to it, a grandeur, a scale which has never left me. Never ever left me.”

While painting or drawing, I feel as if I’m in space, looking down on my Earth. It’s a sort of detachment of ‘self’ from ‘myself’, and that’s great. The process of painting has a scientific side to it cause it includes curiosity, investigation, trial&error, in-depth thinking, intuitive feeling,…it requires tons of discipline and inner peacefulness at the same time. It’s quiet, enormous and never bored.

Off to paint now. To those who read this post, enjoy this great audio book.

p, as partisans

This is an example of tasty&classy reach in electro-pop music. The singer is only 17 years old. Sings about things she (not)knows, without trying to be some sick Lolita with daddy issues.

I was never much into pop music but there are some great musicians that deserve every bit of a respect. However the 21st century is proving to be a very stupid one in terms of pop music. Also the voice of Annie Lennox notices something’s going very wrong with the whole pop music industry.

I know what I’m talking about. As kids, my friends and I have witnessed enough of old pedophiles jerking off. We’re all born&raised at Dalmatian coast, enjoying&loving our paradise as children normally do. For some unreasonable reason, a ‘civilized’ pedophile would visit Dalmatia (part of Yugoslavia at that time), considering it to be a paradise for ‘free watching’. However, what they all didn’t know is that we, the uncivilized child natives, would not stand still >> we would take a rock, stone or whatever and hit the mother f…er hard. Bitter surprise for him and lots of laughs from our side. Yeah, ‘a civilized tourist’ didn’t know that the wild natives can be pretty crazy and defensive as young partisans.

That’s why I don’t know what’s happening with teens today. It seems as if they’re under some kind of weird hypnosis that ain’t for sure a sexual revolution. It looks more like a global sexual repulsion.

I reckon that if any of those kids singers or kids fans would witness jerking off of a some old pedophile, they would be at least repulsed. But hitting them hard with a rock or stone, well…that takes a lot of discipline, practice and great team of normal kids.

beeing carefree&responsible >> that’s true freedom

d, as danica

I don’t like this day. Honestly, hate it. And one must not hate. Calling it; ‘mio capriccio de odio’.

On this day moja baba* died. She was my mum and I was ‘only’ 21. I know life is not fair and her sudden, ‘unfair’ death made me question life even more. Moja baba was always healthy and strong like a bull (even in zodiac she was a taurus). Shortly before her death I almost lost a kidney due to insufficient fluid intake after running. She always worried about my kidneys; it was her ‘capriccio’ to always remind me to pay attention to kidneys. After 3 weeks I got better while she suddenly got sick and died 3 weeks later. I wasn’t at the funeral cause I couldn’t bare it. But I could bare being with her in the hospital, massaging her, washing her, talking and making plans about our garden etc. Her hospital room was no. 36.  Now, whenever I hear someone talking that at 35-36 km of a marathon one gets a crises I put a ‘smile’ on; somehow I remembered that perverse number and there’s no way that I’ll get a f… crises. Still, if it occurs, moja baba will help me.

She taught me many, many things. Extremely wise, down to earth, simple person. Loved to talk a lot and made people laugh as true stand-up comedian. Had a thing for inventing new words or phrases that made weird sense. She was a professional cook so I learned everything from her. She was also a great gardener and we never had to go to supermarket for vegetables or fruits. Working with earth, plants, flowers, vegetables was her zen moment that seduced me already as a small kid. My wish is to have own garden one day.

But the most, most important: she was my only solace and anchor for simple wild child soul. She would protect me from mother, brother, grandpa, father…in short, any version of a ‘stupidity’. Thought me to look at life with ease whenever is possible and not to worry much about things that are in essence irrelevant. Only thing that she constantly repeated was ‘pamet u glavu’** and everything will be ok.

Today I really tried not to think about this day. I took my dog to veterinarian’s clinic for a small procedure and everything went well. He doesn’t need an additional operation. But during my evening training, the evening star Danica shined so brightly; tough it was cloudy, she was peeking through, watching me.

This is her favorite song. I used to play it for her on the piano and she would sing.

I love&miss my Danica. Always will.

– – – –

*   eng. my granny

** eng. be smart / use your brain