One of those days

when too many things took place... so I decided to post a gazzillion ( no more and no less) photos for a change.
First was the opening of the Berlin collective (these were the four that came to the opening):

and here are a few of their works:

and here is the artist playing gallery footie with his work:

After that (or maybe rather in between) we all went to see a performance next door:

 it was a sort of combination of a play and what we were told was a butoh dance

and then we had some time to kill before the concert started. So we went to a couple artist studios just across the yard.
Just one quick photo from there, you know, what happens in an artist studio stays in an artist studio.

and to finish it all off we went back across the yard for the concert. And as there are so many photos today, I might just as well post a few from the concert instead of the usual one.
The drummer

 the chaos

 and one of the band members singing (they were constantly switching roles, so it is hard to say what else she did)

 ... and then I just went home to bed.

The battered

and bruised in art.

A rare

opportunity to see this guy perform (unless you build a time machine and travel back in time).

Dare to

be crazy. Look at things from a different perspective.

City of women

saw three totally different performances in one night (just managed to catch the end of the city of women festival). One was just terrible (and this is a word that I find hard to stutter – at least in relation to other people’s creative attempts), one had technical difficulties, but the performer managed to save the show (I would still like to see the show as it was intended) and the photo is from the third one, which was my favourite of the night.

Massacre

after massacre and I know it is so easy to get all haughty on a subject like this, so I will try to avoid it (probably unsuccessfully). Instead I will try to share a single flash that skipped neurons somewhere deep inside my brain while watching the show.

So first a little about the setting, just so you know in what sort of circumstances this flash occurred: the show speaks about the various massacres that took place through history and when they reached the 800.000 people that were estimated to be slaughtered during the 100 day Rwandan genocide (I think I got this right, but with all the massacres I saw that evening, quite a few of which took place in my lifetime, I might have been dazed and confused, and mixed some data) the flash appeared.

 In my flash I was trying to imagine all these people, give them names and faces, because, c’mon, let’s be real, life is never a mere statistic. So, the following people flashed in front of my eyes:

All the people in the maternity ward in Perivale, none of whom I remember (but I imagine was full of nurses, doctors, babies, mothers, fathers), my parents, my grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, Shirley and all the kids at her place, the dustman who I used to talk to on my way to Shirley’s, all the people in the elementary school in London, all the people in nursery school in Ljubljana, the people in elementary school in Ljubljana, at Holland park comprehensive, secondary school in Ljubljana, at University, on the streets of Ljubljana or London, in the streets of Paris, Lisbon, Budapest or Sagres or any other place I have visited, the nurses and doctors in my too common visits to the hospital, the girlfriends I had, the people I met at various work related meetings, all the friends I have made, all the people I met in the theatre, at concerts, in galleries, the people I shared a drink or two with in various bars and the cute waitresses who brought me those drinks, the people who wanted to kick my ass when I was younger (luckily this does not seem to happen anymore (touch wood)), the beggars I say hello to as I pass them… I imagined all of them, in a single flash, you know how weird these things are in the brain, the few thousand people I interacted with in my life, and it flashed, ok, so you have all gone. Just like that. Everybody I know and anybody I have ever known (even people I know only virtually), everybody I am still going to get to know, everybody who rubbed off a minute speck of themselves onto me, all gone.  In a single massacre. At this stage my brain shut down and returned to the show, because it found a bit hard to deal with this. On the personal side of the massacre.

So, I will leave it at this.

Somewhere dark

 They dragged me through time and for a while they left me to breathe stale air in the dark. But you know what? I would go back. 

Remember them?

From a post in September 2012? The ones who came in peace but were so shocked by the situation on this planet they decided to free the 26 billion chickens being held hostage? Well, they are back and they have a new mission. At the moment it is still a top secret mission, but I know it is a big and important one, because this time they are headed by their leader, who is also their divine creator. 

They made

the bed, but didn't let me sleep in it. What sort of a gallery would be so cruel?

A great storyteller

and his version of On the Road. 

Chekhov vs. Chekhov

I have seen two Chekhov plays in 2 weeks, and enjoyed them both (actually enjoyed them much more than I enjoyed reading him)
The thing they both had in common (obviously apart from being written by Chekhov) was that they both seemed to be a loose interpretation of the text, so it seems that he was a writer who stimulated this through his writing, but I will have to read these two plays (now that I have seen them) and get back to you on this.

Petra's world

It is always interesting to see the worlds of other people. This time it was Petra's world, and here is a photo of how I see Petra's world.

The man

who lives in the van (no, not Bennet's lady in a van) and who is relentlessly pursued by his shadow is back in my street. Maybe he will have a cup of tea with me this time.

All the poetry

I really thought I would write a poem to go with this blog, but it seems that an early autumn morning is not the right time for it (work awaits!). However the evening spent with poets did make me think I could compile my own little booklet of poetry. Ah... so many projects, so little time.

Vertigo

It sure was while I was watching from above.

Chekhov

and the Serbian national theatre make a really great team and time flies by, leaving you in a dream (slightly hazy it is). 

Scrub

your body hard with nails,
maybe you'll be lucky
and one of them will be rusty.

Blinded

by love. 

My office

for the week - must be the best office in town.

Still

rehearsal. Not so still as one might expect.

The 2nd part

of the festival has started and to start off I saw Pina (by Wenders) in 3D. Made me wish I was the photographer on the set (Wim give me a call next time).

These two

kept me up half of the night.

I just

love it in the theatre. I wonder if I could find a job there?

Oh no,

the opening is here and the exhibition is still not set up.

Another

outdoor concert, so the summer is still not completely over (even though I went home as soon as the concert finished because it was freezing - so maybe it is the end of the summer - or have I just jinxed it now?)

Damir

Avdić. If you haven't seen him perform yet, you really should the next chance you get .

Photo-poetry

Uffff. I wish I knew what to write about this exhibition. The idea seemed to be right down my alley, for it combines two things I like and occassionally dabble in. A few times I even tried  to combine the two. But, I don't know, this one just didn't work for me, but I am sure it worked for somebody else.

End of the line

for civilisation.

One of those days

 

(Photo No.1, afternoon photo taken during a rehearsal in Gledalšče Glej, Ljubljana)

that comes after you have handed in your last translation (after working on a couple of them for months) and you have all the time in the world for photography. Unfortunately it is raining, you no longer own a car (well, you do, but it has changed into a sculpture) and you need to take photographs in two different towns. But in the end everything somehow works out, even if you are wet for hours on end. 

(Photo No.2, evening photo taken while setting up the exhibition in Layerjeva hiša, Kranj)