fredag 11 oktober 2013

luigi moretti


Building by Luigi Moretti in Trastevere, Rome.
GIL, the former Casa del GIL (Casa della Gioventu´Italiana del Littorio) translated to House of the Italian Facist Youth.
So is this a fascist architecture or is this building an empty vessel to fill with something new without hiding or forgetting our history? Can beauty be stolen and forever kept by the bad guys? Will we allow it to be stolen or can we reclaim it and use the travesty: "Why does the devil have to have all the good architecture?"  Or are we hurting those who suffered and feeding the evil forces. 
Of course architecture can scare you and imprison you, make you small and even make you disappear or trick you to believe in and enchant you with the lies and false prophesies of the dictatorship or scare you by the nightmares in the walls?
Or is it all in the context, possible for us to conquer and claim?


worth a visit

söndag 6 oktober 2013

the Marble Smile


Meet this enchanting marble smile in GNAM, The Galleria Nazionale dárte moderna e contemporanea in Rome.
A place worth visit and to remember, 
stroll through the green park of Villa Borghese and find this place of hidden treasures. 
A place showing dark secrets as well.
And why can the marble look so soft and so alive?  


fredag 23 augusti 2013

orange my dear! orange , kära du!


Orange! Vad signalerar den färgen? Nyttig betakaroten kanske. Orange är särskilt vacker bredvid den gröna färgen på Isaac Grunewalds målningar. Det är faktiskt den orange färgen som får den gröna att skimra och lysa. När Isaac var på det humöret så lade han den gröna ovanpå den orange eller tvärtom. Och nej, jag kan inte hitta det tysk y-et på tangentbordet, så därför är hans efternamn felstavat. Morötterna från mammas trädgårdsland ligger på mammas orange bricka. De är små och knapriga och låter på ett särskilt sätt när man klyver dem med tänderna. Brickan är från det färgdjärva 70-talet.
Är det dags att ta fram den orange igen och låta den knocka vår pastellfärgade omgivning?


Orange! What does this color signal? Useful carotene maybe. Orange is particularly beautiful next to the green color of Isaac Grunevalds paintings. It is actually the orange color that gets the green to shimmer and shine and when Isaac was in that mood  he painted the green on top of the orange, or vice versa.

The carrotss of my mother's vegetable garden on her orange tray. They are small and crunchy and they sound in a particular way, when I split them between my teeth. The tray is from the color bold 70s.

Is it time to bring out the orange again and let it knock our subtle pastel surroundings?

Isaacs självporträtt/ self portrait by Isaac Grunewald

söndag 5 maj 2013

Me and Laura is looking for inspiration

Looking for inspiration among the old masters.
So I found this book by Rackham bought in London many years ago.
Can he help me to picture the bat in my story?
Yes, no and maybe.

onsdag 1 maj 2013

måndag 29 april 2013

Time / A poem a day/ 29th of April 2013


Time
I run with bare feet over the rag rug
The rag rug runs over the old worn wooden floor
where you ran before me on your naked feet
but the carpet is still growing out from the loom of wood.
Constantly the shuttle is running to and fro between the warp threads.
I hear the beat of the boom and the pedals gear.
But I do not see you.
You that weaves.

Tiden
Jag springer med bara fötter
 över trasmattan som löper på det gamla slitna trägolvet
där sprang du före mig på nakna fötter
men  mattan växer ännu ut ur vävstolen av trä.
Ständigt ränner skytteln mellan varpens trådar.
Jag hör hur bommen slår och hur tramporna växlar skälet.
Men jag ser dig inte.
Du som väver.

tími
Ég hlaupa með berum fótum yfir
rag gólfmotta sem keyrir á gamla slitinn tré hæð
þar sem þú hleypur á undan mér á berum fótum
en teppi vex enn út loom úr tré.
Allan tímann í gangi um rútuferðir milli undið þræði.
Ég heyri uppsveiflu högg og hvernig pedali gír ástæðan.
En ég sé þig ekki.
Þú vefnaður.

Lisbeth Nordin /poem

söndag 28 april 2013

RIddle me /A Poem a Day/ the 28th of April 2013























collage: Lisbeth Nordin


Riddle me
Riddle me
Knight of the unknown heights
Ride through my forest in fading twilight
Forgotten, forgiven, but never forbidden
Riddle me, riddle me
Riding knight
through the blackening forest 
in the sleeping night
forget me, forgive me but never forbid me
to riddle me, ride me through the forest in fading twilight.


segja mér gátu
segja mér gátu
Knight frá óþekktum hæðum
Útreiðar í gegnum skóg í fading sólsetur
Gleymt, fyrirgefið, en aldrei bannað
segðu mér, segðu mér gátu þína
Riding riddari
gegnum svartan skóginum svefn nóttina

gissa min
gissa min gåta
ridande ryttare riddare
av gåtfulla gränslösa vidder
ridande ryttare räddare
i gråvättars skymningsgrå skog
glömd, försvunnen, förrunnen
säg mig din, säg mig din gåta
ryttare riddare ridande
i skymningsmörk sovande skog

Lisbeth Nordin poem