…I would want to be there, in that drawing, instead of being here, in my busy days. This child cotton scarf was brought back from the seaside by my grandmother in 1960. It has written all around names of Romanian seaside resorts. I wasn’t able to clean all of those rust stains, but I like it anyway.
Some update on my small cacti “garden”. The beautiful big white one is a new addition, a gift that left in our urban garden by an acquaintance from our neighborhood. Also, I received from my school another one that is not in such a good shape, but maybe it will get better with more light this summer. I’m kind of worried for the biggest cactus I have, that seems to be very dry, but again, I moved the pot closer to the window and I hope the light from the summer will make it better. I’ll also look for some soil enhancer for it. My vintage flower stand, that was my grandmother’s needs some repainting, but I don’t think this will happen very soon. But I don’t mind the shabby look, it goes well with all the different pots and cacti.
I made these drawings in different periods in time these last years. I scanned them in for a school assignment and I thought to share them here, too. I hope to do some more of them this spring.
I have used again these past months my very cheap plastic panoramic camera. These photos are from January to March, shot on a very, very expired Kodak 400 film (a flea market find from a couple of years ago, when I bought several expired rolls, but I did’t use all of them because I don’t like the blue hue these films had). But somehow, in this camera and in this winter months, I really like the blue color of this photos. It was mostly fog when I shot these images, and the old film has the right atmosphere. I liked spending a slow evening scanning these winter images, now when spring is almost here.
In the train, watching the cloudy skies and finally just being, with vague thoughts, distant memories and no regrets or worries. Listening to the most beautiful sound in the world, the ethereal sound of the train weals on the railways, when the train moves very slowly and dreamily through forests and by the Danube.
I only have these blurry phone photos, but it’s ok. In Bucharest, together with friends that I meet once in a few years, but with whom we find each other with the same easiness and affection and closeness each time, I saw the sunset glowing on the communist architecture, as eerie as a metaphysical painting. I didn’t take any picture, except for the ones in my memory.