Picture prompt: from picture to word #7

 

8

 

I’m too transparent, that’s my crime. It’s all over me, if words make it hard for you to believe – there have been so many car trips, so many forgoten stories and casualties to prove what you wanted to hear. There have been others, before, who took hold of my mind, of my reason. We were partners, me and them, partners in crime against each other, digging each other for something unknown to who we were back then. Through pain we’ve kept going, through pain we’ve avoided numbness, through withdrawl we’ve tackled the feelings we were addicted to, the ones we’ve managed to forget. Through pain we tried to make something better.

You may well search my body for proof, if what I say doesn’t translate. I bear my truth and a past for which I will not apologize. It hasn’t been too long since I was blood, dreams, pain, fear, soul searching sex, and yes, I have some stories, altough I’m a no good fella, not even a good story teller, whatsoever.

My past happened before I was who I am now and that is a story I can tell, if your intention is to get to know me well.

 

GJ

Picture prompt: from picture to word #6

 

887502_921785197869000_179245349355816018_o

 

It’s bound to happen, I’m aware of the pattern – when I’m fed up living with myself, I ought to find something else, someone else. It is you.

With you I share this emotion, which travels far beyond than the bubble we’ve blown ourselves in, setting it to motion. Delighted, in the here and now, after all, every waking hour feels brand new, and though we travel we stay.

Growing in this world, we’ve been led to believe it’s wrong being so free – hey love, let it be. It’s enough that we’ve seen war, that we’ve fought ourselves. Should this be, it will. I know of ego and I know of devotion, should I give it up and devote myself to you I’m at last released.

 

GJ

Picture prompt: from picture to word #5

 

6

 

I do talk too much whenever I’m stuck, when I can’t transform thoughts into intelligible and organized phrasing, when it’s over my head. In an effort to hold on to what it is that I really want to say but don’t know yet how to, I talk too much about everything, making up stories just to keep it going until it comes to me, venturing on mundane, petty,  silly, funny things. Whatever I’m not doing during this confusion is erased from my mind, I’ll do my best not to think about it. For what is worth, whenever words cannot be found, a great frustration rises from uncertainty, when it’s over the answer pounds my eardrums in constant echoes, each beating sounding clearer than the previous.

As I pronounce each word back into the void, a way out of the maze shows itself.

 

GJ

Obsessões da última semana

Acredito que cada um deva ter uma ou outra obcessão. Nestes últimos dias tenho andado obcecado com caligrafia oriental, papel japonês, design e ilustração. Entre muitos desenhos, escritas, muita confusão e uma muito necessitada gestão de prioridades, encontrei algumas coisas engraçadas, bem como uma nova agenda cultural para acompanhar nas próximas semanas.

 

#1 Ilustração

FUSCA

ilustrações para BICHOS de Miguel Torga

Aguarelas!

Paul-Émile Bécat

Jules Verne, Voyages Extraordinaires

Freeze Time Spell, Associação Portuguesa de Doentes de Huntington

#2 Fotografia

Morning Glory

#3 Aprender no Museu do Oriente

Iniciação à Caligrafia Japonesa

Máscaras em Origami

Encadernação Japonesa

Workshop Papel Marmoreado

Fabrico de papel aplicado às artes plásticas

 

 

GJ

Picture prompt: from picture to word #4

 

Experiências

 

She is drifting on water. She conceals all a girl can feel. Her hand ever with poise sends everyone away. The boys, the boys and the praise, her and her boys in a haze of false pretenses. She wants to find her truth that blunders and she isn’t likely to handle it. She can’t handle loneliness, and it is when she walks  on water she becomes herself. She can’t handle love, washing down her flame.

 

GJ

Verbis, palavras, words

Antes que soubesse o quanto me afectavam e o quanto lia delas já as palavras eram mais poderosas que a minha capacidade de lidar com elas. Gostava de não saber o significado das palavras, gostava de não as ler tão bem. As palavras nomeiam o que se vê, nomeiam o que pensamos, nomeiam o que ouvimos, sinto inevitavelmente por palavras, sou inevitavelmente afectado por palavras. Pedem-me que me cale com palavras falsas de carinho, nomeiam a minha zanga com palavras de troça e censura, avisam-me com palavras descuidadas que não tenho importância e que o que pensava ser verdade não existe. Não há no mundo aquilo por que me esforcei nutrir. Nada a fazer senão permanecer e deixar o rumo imparável do mundo e do nosso tempo arrastar-me na sua corrente e simplesmente ser. Nada importa.

 

banner

 

GJ

Déjà Vu

wip Caligrafia – Cantiga de amigo

Comecei na semana passada uma nova viagem pela poesia medieval portuguesa e galega, relendo algumas das minha cantigas predilectas, dos meus tempos de estudo da literatura portuguesa, soprando o pó do  “Tesouros da Poesia Portuguesa”, um belo exemplar que encontrei numa pequena feira do livro de Lisboa o ano passado.

Snapshot_20160209_40

 

Já que muito tenho praticado o estilo Spencerian, achei que seria um bom exercício para fazer algo completo e belo, cruzando o medieval com o traço dramático e contínuo do Spencerian. Não ficou uma maravilha e há muito ainda a melhorar.

Para superar algumas dificuldades técnicas encontrei novos aparos, melhor papel e tintas. Resta manipular melhor as novas ferramentas.

 

GJ