Sunday, 23 November 2014

Ahhh... It's Sunday....

My day off ...
So what do you do on your day off?
I started it off with a bit of translation. I am so far behind with it all I have a feeling somebody it 7201 AD built a time travelling machine, just so he could send me back to 491 BC so I could be further behind. No, wait, but that would mean I have got much more time to finish my translations that need to be handed in by December 2014. And you know what that means, don't you? It means I have more time to take photos. So off I go to my (yes, I feel at home there now, so I might just as well call it my) local theatre and take a portrait of an up and coming young director.

After that I put a bunch of talented young actors and a producer in my newly MOT-ed car (oh it is good to have a road worthy car again) and we drove off to the country side (it was Sunday after all), where we met up with one of our mates and spent some quality time together.  

Even though it was Sunday, we could not behave like it was Sunday all day. We headed back to the theatre for some serious rehearsals (and as we learnt how to be proper swines, we might have hung one or two passersby who did not show full cooperation, but that is what the country seems to be teaching us to do).

Late in the evening (well you know, for a day off, late in the evening), when the rehearsals were finished I wanted to take another portrait of Nina, sitting on the stage set up for her performance, and luckily for me she was kind enough to humor me, so here it is.

After all this I had to go home to bed, because guess what, tomorrow is just another working day.

Saturday, 22 November 2014


a performance full of violence, drugs, alcohol and odd characters

I went to a private viewing of an exhibition full of violence, drugs, alcohol and odd characters.

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

The performance

that makes you smile, 

  makes you want to kiss someone,

and makes you want to fall in love again.  

Thursday, 30 October 2014

After watching some people

hang around,

 I went to Lolita's concert which they were promising to record live, but something went wrong with the machinery, so nothing has been recorded (so they will have to have another concert to record the live album).

(And this is Izi trying to persuade all of you with his gaze to come to their next concert that they will be recording live.)

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

I rarely

watch TV at home. I prefer visiting galleries where I can watch bears watch TV, live.

And when I want to get into shape I visit an exhibition and conquer 111 mountain peaks (or whatever is left of them) in 20 minutes (and dance afterwards).

Monday, 27 October 2014

I miss

spending time at rehearsals in this theatre. I hope they will start working on something new soon....

Sunday, 26 October 2014

Some days (or weeks, nobody is keeping track)

I feel like an underwater creature that somebody has dragged from the deep sea and left lying on the pier for dead. On days like that I stare at the ceiling motionlessly, a little Help voice resounding throughout my body. Of course, on the surface nobody can read my mind, and even if they could, they do not speak my language. I am just an alien in a hostile man shoot man man over a dog biscuit world.

Friday, 24 October 2014

Finished translating

2 plays this week, so I might as well go to an exhibition or two... the first one I went to had Which language will it speak written on the wall., which seemed rather appropriate as one of the plays was a multilingual one to start off with. 

Thursday, 23 October 2014

After photographing

the dress rehearsal of the Girl with the dragon (which I also photographed a few days ago, see the blog post from a couple of days back) I decided to stay for the second dress rehearsal - for the Hunting season, even though I knew it would be hard to get a good photo of it as it was being filmed from all angles and distances.

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

The streets

turned to river overnight, but in the morning the sun shined in the calm blue sky as if nothing had happened.

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

What I really

missed during my weekends at the seaside where dance performances. Luckily for me there might be a few to see this week. This is the first one, where I got a sneak preview during rehearsals. (Yey, lucky me!) Now I can look forward to what seems will be a culture packed week.

Friday, 17 October 2014

Moving my summer house

further south.
(I can't believe I went for my walkies without a camera and had to take this one with my crappy phone cam)

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Wednesday, 15 October 2014

I've been to the sea

a lot over the past three weeks. And as it was the post-season sea, it was great (or might one say awesome?). But what I really, really missed was a bit of live music, a play, a performance and maybe an exhibition or two (non-existent or extremely hard to find in a small post season tourist town, that seems to be closing down for the winter)... So whenever I came back to Ljubljana during these three weeks I needed to make up for le temps perdu.
Yesterday I decided to go and listen to Tal Kesari, a young Israeli musician from Tel Aviv. Really enjoyed the concert in the subtle and intimate settings, but during the concert I once again realised (really, realised once again?) how much I need to understand the lyrics. And I didn't. Which was a great shame because the slightly melancholic sounds of the songs made me think I would truly enjoy them (the lyrics I mean, I enjoyed the songs anyway).
Once the concert ended I was left there, wanting more. More live music. So I trotted down to Celica, where QuatroPorTango were playing.
 And they have sure improved in leaps and bounds since the first time I saw them in KUD in June 2009 (and then again in August of the same year). So thumbs up to you guys! But even after the second concert of the night, I felt I needed more (even though I was sleepy and a part of me (the battered and weary body part) was making some muffled noises that sounded exceptionally like - I want to go home. I managed to ignore these voices and pretend I never heard them), so once more I trotted onwards. This time to Prulček for a bit of good ol' fashioned jamming.

After this and a beer I finally felt I had enough and could go home to bed and bid all my bedbugs (which will bite me) goodnight and wait for the morning to come.

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Saturday, 11 October 2014

This is my street

said the cat.
Which was weird, because I thought it was mine.
In the end we decided to share it.

Monday, 6 October 2014

Sunday, 5 October 2014

Monday, 8 September 2014

Sometimes it seems

that the only way to keep depression at bay is to attend a clown performance.
But clowns are never merely happy, they are always also sad, and sometimes your feeling of sadness is too deep and the clowns don't really do anything for you in the sense of cheering you up. Well, ok, you might chuckle (Emilie, I remember to chuckle and not giggle) every now and then, or experience a momentary lapse of reason in which you forget your woes, but in the end you come out of the theatre sort of empty, with a deep reverberating void (or hurt, or sadness, or... I don't really know what it is) somewhere deep inside your soul (and no, it has nothing to do with the performance).
So you stroll down the old Roman road and find yourself in an old crusader's church, which is rather unusual for the town you live in (I mean the church is unusual for the town you live in and it is also unusual for you to find yourself in a church in the town you live in).
And just as you are trying to get your head round these surprising facts you realise a spaceship is trying to land inside the church and you just stand there, mesmerised, gazing at the spaceship, wondering if they have come to fill your void or take away your pain (it is really surprising how self-absorbed one can be at a moment like this) .... But they don't.... They just hover there, gazing back at you, totally oblivious as to what is going on inside your head. After a while you realise you have been involuntarily involved in a staring competition. Minutes pass, maybe hours, days, weeks, months, years or maybe even lifetimes. You no longer know how long it has been. You are tired. Tired of staring, tired of standing, tired of yourself... Suddenly the spaceship is sucked into your big void and for a micro-second you are content, because you have just realised that this void of yours has a name.
But now the church is empty. You step out and find yourself in a magic garden.
 It is the middle of the night and time has stopped. Shiny, colourful and bright watering cans are hovering over the bushes bathing them in white light. They never stop. Hovering. Watering. You splash some white light across your face. It keeps you awake, but also makes you notice that parts of your beard have turned grey. It sure has been a long day. Your mind tries to recapture the day. You try to remember what is was like when you woke up.The morning seems so long ago and far away that the brain just sends a G291 system error, and after a quick shower in the white light you step out of the enclosed garden and into a dark closed space.
It is a small, dark space and yet an  entire galaxy of red dwarfs and electric blue wormholes are confined within it. You step onto the Einstein-Rosen bridge, look into the deep, black (but for the flickering explosions  of blue light) abyss below and suddenly you are looking up at something that seems so similar and yet so different you just can't put your finger on it. You slowly count the trillions of red dwarfs, and as you gaze at each one, you feel what an uneventful existence they lead. On the way you alternate between crossing Einstein-Rosen bridges and sliding through wormholes. Finally you have counted all the red dwarfs, crossed all the bridges (and burnt some of them), crawled or sledged through each wormhole and entered all the data into a spreadsheet. You know your day's work has been done, so you decide to jump on the bridge and catch a wormhole so that you can have a quick drink with a friend from the past.
 You fall head first into his Paris studio, but he does not flinch when you tumble across the floor and the room overflows with body parts, cameras, negatives, captured images and memories that spill throughout the room. Once you pick up your body parts and pull yourself together you look at the man at work, deeply engulfed in his thoughts, observing the rays of light spreading across his studio and you immediately know it is 1921 and that he is onto something important, so you just pat him on his back gently, whisper an almost silent hi man, climb back onto the bridge and catch the last wormhole going in the morningbound direction.