My lemon tree

This precious stuff makes me dizzy. 

 

She's a star (Nice to meet you, thanks and goodbye)

Some days ago I met a star. Her name is Stephanie. She is 7 years old.

I was in Athens having a coffee with a friend with whom I havent met for ages. Couple of minutes before we left, a young girl approached our table and started to play the violin. We were the only ones sitting outside. Music was awful. She was standing right behind me and I couldnt see her. But I told her ''you know you need some serious practice, right?''. She stopped playing and said ''yes, I know. I am much better at playing the accordion. I am saving money for the conservatoire''. It was hard to say whether she was being ironic, funny or serious about the conservatoire. And there was something about the way she talked that made me turn around to see her. I saw a girl more or less 7 years old. Normally dressed with a warm blue jacket. The violin was a cheap one but she was holding it tightly close to her body. She had dark eyes. For a second I felt bad for having my stupid ironic attitude towards her. 

- So, are you actually saving money to go to the conservatoire?, I asked. 

- Dont know, maybe she said. 

- Sorry I have no money to give you.

- That is fine, she said. 

I wanted to keep the conversation going and I asked the most boring thing you can ask a child. 

- So, what do you want to be when you grow up?

- Err I want to be a nurse and a dancer and a mucisian and an actress and ...

She must have said more than 15 things and made me looking at her puzzled. 

- Ok, but if you had to choose one, what would you do?

- Why would I have to choose one? she asked me.

Her looks revealed nothing childish or naive. She was serious and conscious about her question. 

- Well, you dont have to choose one, I replied.       

- Good. Excuse me for a minute, I have to go in and say hi to the guys. 

She went in the cafe and started talking to them. She knew everybody there. Didnt ask  for money or anything. When she came back we were leaving. My friend however addressed her and asked ''Stephanie, is that you?''. 

- Yes, I am Stephanie. Who are you?. 

- Dont you remember me?

Stephanie stared at my friend for some seconds, she smiled and said 

- Yes, I remember you know now. You have changed your eyes glasses but I know you from Dionisiou Areopagitou.

It turns out that Stephanie is a rising star in Athens. She grew up in the streets where her dad was playing the accordion. He was a regular at Dionisiou Areopagitou street for many years where many street mucisians make a living. Right across the Acropolis. My friend used to walk over there hence she also knew Stephanie. They chatted for a bit. Then, we said our goodbyes and we left. We went to a place close so that I grab some food. Some time later on, Stephanie enters the place, looks at us and asked what we were doing also there. We explained the obvious. She, again, greeted everybody in the place and chatted about stuff. 

- Will you join us for food? I asked her for no reason at all. It seemed like the most natural thing to do. 

- No, unfortunately I have to go back home and see my dad. I would love to though. 

She left me once more puzzled trying to match her small body and age with a natural kindness and certain manners that I have not met before. 

- Well, may be some take away then? I said.

- Yes, that would be appropriate. 

She ordered a kebab and some fries. Then she came close to me gave me her hand and said

- Nice meeting you. I will have to go soon. Thank you. And goodbye.  

She left. I finished my food on my own and I left. I walked in the neighbourhood having nothing to do killing my time. Thats a lie actually. I was hoping i would meet Stephanie again. I did. Found her playing the accordion this time. She was good.

- Are you following me?, she asked.

I nodded yes. I sat by her side. Occassionally somebody would give her some money. She was playing a melody that was very familiar to me. It took me some time to realise that she was playing Coldplay at the accordion. 

- How do you know this song?

- My neighbour listens to this all the time and I like it. 

- And the music?

- I improvised. But I cant sing cause I dont understand the lyrics.

We went to an internet cafe and I found her the song. She loved the videoclip. Watched it 10 times. I wrote down the lyrics in greek and in english. She convinced me to sing it for her. When I finsihed she said

- You know that you need some serious practice, right?

Little bastard. 

She hangs our at Siggrou-Fix metro station. You will know when you come accross her that she is Stephanie. Cause she is a fucking star. And stars glow.

Her song is Coldplay, Paradise

Go on, take the money and run

One day trip at Tilburg, the Netherlands. It is fun searching in the drawers of a hotel room. Experience says that you come up with amazing stuff. This time I found couple of euros. And a Bible. It has been a long time since I found a bible. 

 

I took the money. Left the bible.

Steve Miller, Take the money and run.

Coffee + Cake = Friends

Merry Christmas

Occupy everything [via http://www.flickr.com/photos/duncan/6355596285]

Pollock glows

It is true. His untitled 1948 drip painting glows in the dark; at least the poster I have in my room does.

I wonder whether the original painting glows as well. I think it is somewhere at the George Pompidou Centre in Paris. But who can actually know if it glows but the night guard at the Centre. 

The way it glows reminds me of an old-fashioned american diner where you can have some coffee and apple pie late at night. Maybe because of the neon lights.

Arcade Fire, Neon Bible (live in an elevator)

Jerks & Butterflies

On Battleship Hill (or better late than never)

Almost a week ago I sat a five hours written examination for working at the Humanitarian Affairs department in the United Nations. I did not take it very seriously. I knew that it is related to stuff I was never involved before. But I managed to read for two days before the exams, justifying at least somehow my trip to Oxford. And I have to say I captured a pretty clear and systemic idea of the Humanitarian Affairs work. I think I even stand a chance to pass the exam. I developed persuasively the concepts of chronic vulnerability, natural distaster, conflict, drought, food insecurity, humanitarian crisis, human rights, action plan, death, priorities.

On my way back, on the train, however it hit me. Actually they hit me. The photos from the reports I have been reading. Photos of people giving you somehow context. I went through the reports again, looking only at the photos this time. And I realised ironically enough that this is a job I would like to do.

My ironically late realisation was accompanied by PJ Harvey, On Battleship Hill.

It is song which for some reason speaks to me in a very unique way. The videoclip is also a piece of art. For those who have read Fahrenheit 451 or have seen the movie by Truffaut, if a dystopian future is out there banning and burning songs (instead of books) I would be this song. Literally, like in the book. I would learn how to play the music, memorise the lyrics and practice it every day so that it would be preserved. They would call me On Battleship Hill.

Bleach it

Smokers are cooler. Fact.

Smokers are cooler than the rest of the people. That is a fact. Not to mention all the brilliant ideas you come up with while your brain cells are slowly and happily destroyed. Or the cool, random people you get to know. The more you ban smoking the less cooler this depressing planet turns into.

I have a degree too, you know

I have a part-time job for the last 2 months now. It involves doing research in a library. Most times I will go out at some point and have a smoke. A couple of days ago I went out and found a girl smoking in my spot. She wore very particular work clothes indicating that she is working manually in the library, something like cleaning. She also had a bizarre behaviour, as if she was hidding from somebody. She was smoking. As soon as I approached and started smoking myself, she turned to me and said 'I am sorry'. I was surprised and I asked her what was it that she apologised for. She told me that sometimes in the past people would distance themselves when she would approach this spot. I didnt really understand but I said that there was nothing to feel sorry for. Almost a minute later and being pretty sure by then that she was hidding behind a tree, I asked her why she was doing that. She answered that it was her break but it is not really professional to smoke during your break. I smiled. I thought that my professional integrity should have been seriously compomised as well. Then, she started talking to me. She described many students in the university's library as being very rude and looking down at her. They didnt even say 'thank you'. She mentioned it makes her so happy when somebody would address her and tell her 'have a nice day'. There was something in the way she was talking and her body language that one could see that she was felt really bad and uncomfortable about the situation. At some point she stopped, lighted another cigarette and said 'I have a degree too, you know. I work in education with autistic children. But things are pretty difficult at the moment and I have a young daughter. So I work here. Perhaps I should wear a badge saying ''I have a degree too'''. I laughed. 'What do you think?', she asked. I told her that she was troubled with things and people that didnt worth of her attention. Not for a second. But if she could not deal with this, in any case she should not tolerate such behaviour by anybody and especially by 20 year old spoiled children. She gave some thought to this for a minute in silence while staring at me straight to the eyes. She looked like a person genuinely surprised by what she had been told. She broke her silence and said 'I think you re right'. I tried to recall when was the last time i saw someone so determinative and assertive. But she didnt give enough time to remember. She shaked my hand and told me 'pleased to meet you'. You dont listen to this greeting often nowdays, do you?

Rolling Stones, 'Sympathy for the devil' or 'pleased to meet you'.

A calculated posture

I am for a few days break in Bristol visiting a friend. To me, Bristol is strictly connected to Harold Pinter. This is because I was first introduced to him by my friend. Every time I visit I will go through very quickly the same play, No Man's Land. I will not allow to myself more than 15 minutes to do that. Like a shot. This time this my favourite passage.

Spooner has just had his first drink of vodka (many more drinks follow in the play) and he introduces himself to Hirst and the reader.

''Spooner:

Yes, I was about to say, you see, that there are some people who appear to be strong, whose idea of what strength consists of is persuasive, but who inhabit the idea and not the fact.

What they possess is not strength but expertise. They have nurtured and maintain what is in fact a calculated posture.

Half the time it works. It takes a man of intelligence and perception to stick a needle through that posture and discern the essential flabbiness of the stance.

I am such a man.''

It's not what you see, it's what you don't (could) see

Like most people, I also have certain sayings. One of them is that 'it's not what you see, it's what you don't see (or what you could see)'.

A friend of mine has told me that this somehow reminds her of Jean Piaget, a psychologist who developed a theory of cognitive development called genetic epistemology. I am not quite sure of why though.

In any case, I do enjoy how certain people see something where most of the people see nothing. OakOak is one of these people who see something or otherwise a 'french artist who likes to play with urban elements' (that is how he/she describes himself/herself).

Pretty cool work! More stuff here

Sakura

The flowering cherry tree holds a unique position in Japanese culture. Cherry blossoms, known as sakura, embody many different symbolic representations. Their brief beauty symbolizes the transient nature of life. I remember reading some years ago a note that a kamikaze (translated as divine wind) left to his family during World War II. Before he left for his suicide attack, he reassured his beloved ones that they should not be unhappy or sad because he would 'fall like a blossom of a cherry tree'.

James Whitlow Delano took some amazing pictures of the cherry trees after the tsunami in Japan. You can see them at the lensblog of the new york times.

Mr. Frog and the skill that fades away

Japan is old news by now. Japan as an environmental catastrophe; Japan as potentially expanding the notion of 'threat to peace and security' in international law; Japan as a human tragedy; Japan as laying the ground for scientific bureaucracy to rise up again. You may choose the standpoint that fits you best.

There is something else about Japan however that did not take place in Japan. It has to do with our reaction to the events in Japan. How did we react, really?

Newspapers, radios, television, internet, facebook, twitter. All these thousands of videos and statuses on facebook. Fear for what we cannot control. Grief. Sadness. Sympathy. We sympathised to the Japanese mising people, the victims, the ones left behind. Sympathy is the feeling of being sorry for someone or something. Empathy takes much more. Empathy implies a more active involvement in someone else's emotional state. Sympathy then; fair enough.

On one condition though. On the condition that we consider the possibility that we did not feel any sympathy, although we were truly convinced that we felf sympathy.

Sympathy is an emotional reaction, qua feeling. But sympathy is also a social skill developed through time. We are designed, socially and biologically speaking, to carry along and practice this skill. We, as human beings. Other animals may carry it to a certain extent.

How many thousands ambulances' sirens driving from another corner of the planet are we able to perceive? Sympathy may be an intergenerational and universal (just maybe) skill but there exist inherent limits to it.

As with any other skill, we may lose it in time and space if we do not practice it or we do not need to practice it anymore. We used to run faster long time ago for catching our food. We do not do it anymore. We do not have to catch our food. We changed the environment and our skills gradually adapted to it.

Evolutionary landscape includes our skill of sympathy. There is a great difference between having and practicing this skill and being stuck temporarily with the habit or the illusion that you still have the skill. Space has altered. We altered it. Fundamentally. Our perception of time has radically changed. Everything happens quickly. Too quickly. Stimulants were never before so many. We were never before recipients of all this information about things happening around the globe. We did not have the means. Now that we acquire the means, are we designed - at this phase, at least - to handle all this information? Is it possible that we use the very same skills to accomodate within our perception and horizon differing paradigms? If landscape changes, it becomes inescapable that we change, we adapt. Biology and evolution are also subject to culture. Farming is an ideal example. Sitting in front of a monitor may be another example. Interconnected to everyone and everything; instantly. Detached; continuously.

My Japan showed me that we are stuck in the middle of an invisible process. Trapped between the social skill that we used to have and our fake conviction that we still have it (to the same extent). Who will pass on to future generations the skill of sympathy? Will it be sympathy as we denote it today? Will it be something different? Will we still call it sympathy or maybe we shall rename it? How long does it take for a skill to completely fade away? Are we still feeling sorry and what precisely do we mean by that?

In one of Murakami's stories ('Super-Frog saves Tokyo') there is Mr. Frog. He has to save Tokyo from a catastrophic earthquake. He has to fight with the Warm which is angry and causes the earthquakes. To make the story short, Mr. Frog at the end succeeds in saving Tokyo. Unfortunately, reality did not prove correct this story. As it is the case with most of the stories that we often make up for ourselves.

Fear not

The painting is by Jackson Pollock. Its title is the she-wolf. 1943.

If you lay your eyes on the painting just for a glimpse, it is highly improbable that you ignore it. This is a fact. Regardless of whether you like this painting style (I don’t like this painting style) or the art of painting at all. This is bizarre because a glimpse does not give you enough time for hardly conceptualising the animal’s figure. Still. There is something that will make you take another look at the painting, something that simply attracts you.

The she-wolf is involved in the myth of Romulus and Remus, Rome’s twin founders. When they were exposed to die, a she-wolf found them and suckled them. There are many variations to the story of course. But this is the exact reason that it is a myth. The similarity of the figure embodied in the painting with one of the two bronze she wolves is apparent [see here]; thus Pollock’s source of inspiration and driving force without a doubt.

If it is true that every artist struggles in order to find his/her own style, mode of expression, signature or inspiration, then Jackson Pollock tortured himself. Fighting like a wolf in captivity (a ‘he-wolf’?). His main concern though was not what to represent but the means to do it. The period of which he became well-known is the later one, with his pour paintings, when he was painting without touching the canvas. He dribbled the paint on the canvas with a brush or even poured it straight out of the can. He painted in the air, in a three-dimensional space. Although his painting styles differ significantly, they form a continuum. On this continuum, however, the she-wolf is a breaking point laying the ground for his subsequent well-known period.

What I find fascinating in this painting is the fact that (one of) Pollock’s strongest struggle(s) about how to convey his meanings was driven by the myth of the she-wolf. The myth itself as a notion concerns our ways of conveying meanings, stories and narratives. It is the vehicle for carrying along through time and transforming in space stories. It’s like a spaceship, a social constructions’ spaceship. Truth and lie inseparable in the form of siamese twins; travelling from mouth to mouth, evolving from generation to generation; found since ancient times to nowadays. This is also the myth in Herman Hesse's work. The notion of transformation in Klein and Wagner, the struggle in Narcissus and Goldmund and the symbolic figure of the wolf (again) in the Steppenwolf. The myth as embodied in the prehistoric cave’s paintings representing the bison (if you read Pollock’s painting from your right to the left, you will see a bison sharing the same body with the she-wolf). Primitive imageries made by our wild prototype way back in time. The wild prototype of Darwin which continuously evolves in time and space through the varying patterns, agencies and features. Pollock unfolded his evolution same way. His search for the means to express himself found its way on the surface of his canvas through the medium of the archetypical means in human history to convey meanings, through the myth. There you go: the absolute indivisibility of technique and statement, of method and message. The she-wolf as the symbolic prototype of the notion of myth acting both as a driving, seducing force for Pollock and at the same time as a signifier of his own struggle to express himself.

When he was asked to explain his painting he replied:

She-wolf came into existence because I had to paint it. Any attempt on my part to say something about it, to attempt an explanation of the inexplicable, could only destroy it.

Other people have described the she-wolf as ‘raw, uncivilised intensity’. This is what the painting captures in a unique way. This is why it attracts you (and maybe scares you at the same time). And this is the closest we can get to the fundamental structure of the myth: by qualifying it as uncivilised. But fear not. Someone will read you a bed time story by the Just So Stories that Kipling wrote for his children. Maybe the one about ‘How the Leopard got his spots’?

PS Although symbolic representation through animals (bison, bull, horse) is a recurrent pattern in his paintings, Pollock did not engage ever again with the (she-)wolf. He died at the age of 44 in an alcohol-related accident. He never stopped struggling for the means to express himself. Somehow though the paints and the (so diverse) painting styles always fell short of what he wanted to paint.

PPS The she-wolf is kept imprisoned till nowadays at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

Prejudice & Stereotypes

Is a statement of purpose a necessary condition for starting a blog? I do not think so.

For the last 4 days I have been sick. Generally speaking I am sick of many things but my point being is that I am ill in bed prescribing to myself antibiotics. This is quite unfortunate since I was looking forward to write something that it has been on my mind for a couple of months now. As always, all my new endeavours have a bright starting point.

But I have a back-up plan. I decided that I should contribute somehow to fighting stereotypes in contemporary societies. Yiayia will help me do that. Yiayia is the Greek word for grandmother. In Greek society yiayia is not just another member of the family but rather a particularly dominant and influential figure. So, here we go.

This is yiayia discussing fashion

A progressive view on parenting and sex/gender equality issues:

Last video is about the hidden implications of non-marital relationships

Not exactly a free spirit, eh?

Just for the record, i have no idea what Athenos is. Also hummus is not Greek food. Nor is popular in Greece. It originates from and is popular in the Middle East. That's al right. No hard feelings.