Beware

(taken during a walk in the park)

My first outing with a camera after my operation...

 and I decided to test the waters locally at an easy event with some spoken word

 sculptures

 paintings

 and more spoken word/music performances. 

My brain

 is a bit muddled up

and it can be a very dark place, even on a sunny afternoon;

lately it has been playing a game where it is trying to trap my body in a small coffin like frame, so I can't move.

Paul

Tschinkel. He seems to be doing something I could see myself doing. But only I would prefer to do it with photos and not video... even though a bit of video might be interesting. 

Art is all about

Eve. No, no, that was not what I wanted to say (even though in a very general way I guess it often is). It is all about interaction. In one way or another. So go out and interact.

Two for the price of one

(for free, of course). In today's world where everything is sold at 2 for the price of 1 or 3 for the price of 2, I guess I better sync with the times and give you two blog posts for free.
So here is post a)

Tracing

the traces. Following them into the distance. On and on. Till the very end. Or until you shout ‘STOP!’ And I turn around. And see the sparkle. Notice it, finally. Take another indecisive step forward. Hesitate. Turn back. Look at you again. Rub my eyes in disbelief. Take a step back. Towards you. And another. Realise you are way to far. I will never reach you. Start running. On the spot. Not getting any closer. Ever. Stopping to catch my breath. Noticing you in the distance. Smiling. Waving. And I still can’t really decide whether that is an invitation or not. I will have to come close and ask you. Whisper in your ear: ‘Was that me you were smiling at?’ Even though there was nobody else in the universe at that moment in time. A Frozen moment. A frozen smile. Frozen in time. Frozen in my step. Frozen in another lifetime. Frozen traces of you. Frozen traces of what used to be me. Frozen traces of what could have been us.

post b)

Fight for your art
I know you are all tired from reading post a. So I will just leave you with this image and thought: What would you fight for?

Fishing

for a dream (as my friend would say). Or fishing for a compliment. Or fishing for a reflection. Of fishing for money. Or that elusive feeling. Or food. Or recognition. Or happiness. Or love. Or a smile behind those tears. Or just sitting on the beach, without a fishing rod and gazing into space as the sun goes down.