zip polaroid land camera - polaroid 636 - polaroid one 600
here’s the thing. on three consecutive visits to an undistinguished recycling shop nearby, i bump into a polaroid camera. finding them so effortlessly on my path makes my head turn twice, any polaroid fanatic will figure. every single time i pick one up, not knowing why, or even what to do with it. i am aware of polaroid fever, and have certainly missed round 1 to that, but that’s as far as my enthusiasm reaches.
so i have to call upon the service of those of you who are in the knowing, to simply state whether i’ve bought something worth its while (see specifications underneath picture), or should i just go ahead and do away with them? [sophie has more vintage].
in dendermonde (belgium) there lives a horse called bayard, that leaves its stable once every ten years (!). sunday, may 30th 2010, the horse will greet the city and its spectators, carrying four real life, real time blood brothers on its monumental back. it will fight its way out, like the legend tells it to. this papier mache~textile drapery brothers-and-sons-of-aymon-tradition dates back to the 12th century, like good traditions do. running up to that glorious day, the horse rehearses outside the stables and even on la grande place. today yours truly polished up on horse’s talk and sniffed around its pawing hoofs. that’s about all i got to do, because mr. bayard stayed inside. tonight no show, no picture. that's all, folk(s).
an end is a beginning, it matters where you stand. the task delivers, i stand in unexpected spots in order to get my fill of the street end, and its beginning. welcome
i bend down i look up i read the message i drown in colour a band is playing the wall is sometimes the end
foto of the baobab something i haven’t heard in any art comments, is how gustave van de woestyne (belgium, 1881-1947) often painted trees in corners, in backgrounds and even in the front of his landscapes. moreover, the type of tree he paints is reminiscent of the african andansonia (common name baobab – aka as monkey bread tree – besides in africa also found in australia). san legend has it that god, in a wrathful moment, threw the tree down to earth, in an upside down mode, the tree roots pointing towards heaven.
spring, 1910 since gustave van de woestyne was a deep religious man, is it possible that he knew about this legend? in a funny kind of way, was van de woestyne adding an ironic tinge to everyday life, society and religion in his symbolic pictures? it is true that i walked through a pleasing retrospective exhibition (until june 26th in ghent), past symbolic, expressionist paintings, vastly smiling, and shedding a few prizing tears. walk with me. farmers' wife, 1913 [artist's] children at the dinner table, 1919 gaston and his sister, 1923 the art group ‘first group of latem’, gustave van de woestynethird from the left, his brother karel van de woestijne (writer) second from the right (ca.1902 in sint-martens-latem, banks of the lys, ghent)
when the egg plant is sitting in the fridge for just a bit longer than intended, and the smooth skin is inclining from aubergine purple towards chocolate brown, when the pitta bread is going staler than it ought to, then it’s high time to whisk about the magic wand (recipe/recept). bravely ignoring the parmigiane di melanzane recipe, this one is so easy that making it faintly feels like an insult.
sophie hosts more finds, and here is what needled me up here - ‘one sheep follows another’, and ‘even counted sheep are eaten by the woolf’ (ha ha). or else : ‘silly sheep. where one goes, all go’. yes. i definitely prefer the last proverb. in this typically lowland setting, the herder is leading his sheep somewhere else, one would wonder. of course, you are missing out on the whole picture. i bet you’d like to know what happens in the upper right hand corner… tableau found. in for a penny, in for a pound.
here is the centre of my universe of words, the ones i put on the table, from time to time. letters are stunning, i do fall for them, big time. years on the internet have shown me i am not the only geek who does. so I’m collecting and I’m organizing letters, in boxes and in bags, in order to form the words. and then some (phrases). child’s play, really.
i am not good at finishing touches. i convince myself that it has to do with not wanting an end to anything. i know it speaks of my ease too. completing something is sometimes just plain boring. (and talking about it feels tedious). let me show you one hexagonal plaid that needs finishing off (the borders), and a new plaid that’s been jumping inside my shirt. dancing amongst stars (i wish) has gladly come down to galavanting with squares. loving every second of it.
for now, she’s living on catstreet, the new house not fit to live in yet. It is a she, because she’s curvy in all the right places, and edgy where it gets interesting. above all, she’s a haven and home to our bums. welcome home, settee. [and such a BIG thank u to joh. and bro']
now let’s sit back and enjoy that coke while it lasts.
after having stirred meatballs into rhum-green herbs-hare (I know!) sauce, i flee out to the kitchen garden to shoot just one picture, and that one picture will have to do. of course! i could tell you about the atmospheric gobelin i picked up (depicting a sunset no less!), i could show you the strings of wool and the cookery book i initially wanted to tear up for its graphic interludes (until i started reading the chef’s secrets, that is). but i actually just wanted to share with you these smooth curves, that dazing shine and the eclectic yellowness on this vintage sauce boat. for have you noticed that bloomin’ sunlight? catch your breath, like i did. just now. more goodies here.
i knew i had to grab the sun while it was out. i flung myself on the train and got off at one station short of my destination. the desolate mansion of koscielníkí (kraków - poland) having been the last enigmatic surroundings where i dared let myself wander in solitude (no papers, no mobile, just a camera on me), and then already a good few years ago, i was up for it. no danger of stumbling through rotten alleyways or falling off flimsy balconies, or folding into unexpected time warps, and never ever being found again, dead or alive. just one cool river, glimmering in said sunlight, and plenty of spectators along the way. plenty of muscle too. whooiiiiiiieee.
if need be, and need was. for the bottle having obstructed stuff in the fridge like forever. for bell passing by and proposing a vintage spree out of nowhere. for celebrating humankind and especially courage. for driving unknown roads and losing out, big time (no drinking while driving). for finding, discovering, uncovering. for all those things. on a tuesday.
11/05/10 - i am not living far away from the nextdoor neighbours; as a matter of fact, i live oppressively close. i’ve lived in terraced places all my life, which means i’ve been witness to their presence in different places, and on different occasions. i’ve heard joy, and pain. i’ve heard elation. in time i’ve heard far too much, or else too little. since walls in terraced houses are communal, and in order to apply for my building permit, i need signatures from both future neighbours, stating their agreement on my intended putting up walls for a new kitchen area. there is something disarming about those first talks. there are already traces of future parlando. there’s interest and disbelief. there are agreements, and there’s a lot of good will. i am primarily betting on neigbourly love, i have got to. with neighbours one makes do, one leaps into darker folds of society. getting to know thy neighbour well enough to cherish his presence, while not overexposing one’s own privacy, often feels like walking a tightrope. i already let my future neighbours in on my short term intention of breaking out floors, of rewiring, of knocking down and drilling through, from top to bottom. this is going to be a summer of all that, i said. they smiled. they wished me good luck. they had me walking home whistling (the above song).
my wish is for hot weather to come along and then have a break. so i can serve you cool drinks on this tray and we can lounge (!) in the grass and do absolutely, bloomin' nothin'. more of this and others here.
a hanging mobile being some sort of a perpetuum mobile (photographing it is like arguing with a baby to keep still), i wonder. there were ten of them in the window called the aquarium. they raised my spirits, and obviously did so to others. now they are folding back upon themselves, and are lying still. funny that. they are ready for the house, no doubt. and yet, they need to wait a while longer.
belgium may not be a place in heaven at the moment. politicians are working their ***** off to show off, and the church isn't what it's cut out to be. no judgements. facts. a cow is a cow is a cow. with respect for ancient bother i have wandered over sacred grounds and my camera simply said 'yes' to the occasion. so, enjoy the scenery.
