February 24, 2009
Well
We're getting there. The stomac dances with the lungs, abandoned by the nerves who're trying a tip-tap with the brain. It's really exciting, not even the sun can burn down expectations at this point. All of this may sound silly, thinking about the fact that all of this excitement is caused by the approval of some course papers. Of course, it's what lies behind. Guess we're ready for animation, music videos and tons of hard work and fun.
February 23, 2009
Golden Ticket
When Bendik, Jesper, Hansi and I landed in Auckland a few days ago, I had no idea of what was gonna happen, or what I was going to see.
I could never have imagined such a combination of sun and rain, smiles and natural geometry, homefeeling and strangerlook, everlasting laughter accompanied by kiwibeer and good meals.
Of course, I did expect something. Actually, I expected a very vague lot. I think I got more than anything I imagined, I filled my head with so much green, light, warmth that there only is a mere space left for my brain now. Ehe.
Through our first short roadtrip to Raglan yesterday, sitting in Steve's van listening to a music that seemed to roll under, over and through us on the asphalt, I really got a first taste of It. It, like New Zealand, of which we've seen just a tiny part. It, like a New Zealand that already seems overwhelming.
"It abound with words, and with varieties of expression...It will scarcely be credited, when stated, that the New Zealanders have a distinct name for every tree and plant in their land; of which there are six or seven hundred, or more different kinds...It is so likewise with respect to the birds, fishes insects, garments and everything else they possess: and have I never found a native at loss to express any of the passions, feelings, sensations; any thing connected with joy, sorrow, good, evil; or any qualities of matter, as broad, long, sharp, obtuse, fluid, solid etc. In short, there is scarcely any thing which we can imagine, but they have an expression for it..."
No wonder William Yate wrote in 1820 that the Maori did have an expression for anything.
It's like everything, anything, all the things that surround us here keep speaking to us. Insects crying loud twenty-four hours a day, the sun burning our skin, the smells filling the air. And the nature, the soft shadows all over the hills, are a world on their own filling our eyes.
While Hansi, Jesper, Bendik and I sit on the bus to Rotorua, the time that I spend sleeping feels so desperately wasted. My camera keeps on clickin', hungry for images and more more more road, more light. Hungry, just like us.
Rotorua and its thermal waters do not smell good. But the eyes and the ears are filled with so much beautiful confusion that it's difficult to think of anything bad, or anything else at all. I really get lost in it, even though our feet and Hansi's eyes are following the map. It's like the importance of any geographical factor decreases with each step we take.
We see a kiwibird in the middle of a dark hole, and a geyser reaching for the sky, reflecting and dancing with sunbeams. Bendik gets back from his downhill afternoon, but even after a two-hours bustrip to Hamilton and another forty minutes walk towards Hillcrest I can't still really say I'm tired. My legs are hurting and my eyes have to fight the sleepiness, but I'm stuffed with a bunch of words I’m incapable to spell. And yet, I'm incapable of giving them up.
These unspoken phrases are floating between my tongue and lips, like someone else baked them for me. I have expressions for everything now, as long as I can keep it between my teeth, letting them live a life of their own. Without any real need for a language.
I really look forwards to see my last London pictures and my first New Zealand pictures now. That's a language too.
I could never have imagined such a combination of sun and rain, smiles and natural geometry, homefeeling and strangerlook, everlasting laughter accompanied by kiwibeer and good meals.
Of course, I did expect something. Actually, I expected a very vague lot. I think I got more than anything I imagined, I filled my head with so much green, light, warmth that there only is a mere space left for my brain now. Ehe.
Through our first short roadtrip to Raglan yesterday, sitting in Steve's van listening to a music that seemed to roll under, over and through us on the asphalt, I really got a first taste of It. It, like New Zealand, of which we've seen just a tiny part. It, like a New Zealand that already seems overwhelming.
"It abound with words, and with varieties of expression...It will scarcely be credited, when stated, that the New Zealanders have a distinct name for every tree and plant in their land; of which there are six or seven hundred, or more different kinds...It is so likewise with respect to the birds, fishes insects, garments and everything else they possess: and have I never found a native at loss to express any of the passions, feelings, sensations; any thing connected with joy, sorrow, good, evil; or any qualities of matter, as broad, long, sharp, obtuse, fluid, solid etc. In short, there is scarcely any thing which we can imagine, but they have an expression for it..."
No wonder William Yate wrote in 1820 that the Maori did have an expression for anything.
It's like everything, anything, all the things that surround us here keep speaking to us. Insects crying loud twenty-four hours a day, the sun burning our skin, the smells filling the air. And the nature, the soft shadows all over the hills, are a world on their own filling our eyes.
While Hansi, Jesper, Bendik and I sit on the bus to Rotorua, the time that I spend sleeping feels so desperately wasted. My camera keeps on clickin', hungry for images and more more more road, more light. Hungry, just like us.
Rotorua and its thermal waters do not smell good. But the eyes and the ears are filled with so much beautiful confusion that it's difficult to think of anything bad, or anything else at all. I really get lost in it, even though our feet and Hansi's eyes are following the map. It's like the importance of any geographical factor decreases with each step we take.
We see a kiwibird in the middle of a dark hole, and a geyser reaching for the sky, reflecting and dancing with sunbeams. Bendik gets back from his downhill afternoon, but even after a two-hours bustrip to Hamilton and another forty minutes walk towards Hillcrest I can't still really say I'm tired. My legs are hurting and my eyes have to fight the sleepiness, but I'm stuffed with a bunch of words I’m incapable to spell. And yet, I'm incapable of giving them up.
These unspoken phrases are floating between my tongue and lips, like someone else baked them for me. I have expressions for everything now, as long as I can keep it between my teeth, letting them live a life of their own. Without any real need for a language.
I really look forwards to see my last London pictures and my first New Zealand pictures now. That's a language too.
February 22, 2009
February 21, 2009
Spiral
Whoever made this Universe upcreated a circle at first.
I'm pretty sure about that.
The circle was perfect,
all alike, without and end.
Than, when
Whoever made this Universe up
was done creating
planets, suns, creatures
and all that stuff,
"It" picked the circle up again,
playing with it and swirling it,
creating the Spiral.
Perfection with some humor,
with an end indeed
(but that end always
seems so far),
a screw that slides through the brains,
a tornado that could have an end
or a start, but as the most silly
goldfish remembers none of them.
February 20, 2009
Fwwsshhhh!
It's the sound outside, the sound of the lightest rain in the world. Warm, soft rain. Dipping my toes in puddles and walking along, it doesn't matter if I'm wet like a cod from the top of my nose to the end of my legs. It's sweet, and all of the sounds enter my brain accompanied by an insect symphony. Wow.
I never really noticed we were approaching Auckland. The plane was landing indeed. But only when the german guy next to me told me "look!" I noticed I wasn't looking at clouds anymore. Those were the greenest hills and mountains I'd seen in a while. This image of clouds evolving into ground keep floating in my mind, like a ball rolling up and down inside my head, like a spiral screwing through me from one ear to another. And it's hypnotizing, and it's good.
We've been in the same house for not more than three days now, but already feel them burning: the open road and the mind, like they were attracted to each other in some weird way.
Like a long time married couple, discussing all the time -but still in love.
Ready to leave and devour more landscapes, perfumes, sounds, heartbeats.
I never really noticed we were approaching Auckland. The plane was landing indeed. But only when the german guy next to me told me "look!" I noticed I wasn't looking at clouds anymore. Those were the greenest hills and mountains I'd seen in a while. This image of clouds evolving into ground keep floating in my mind, like a ball rolling up and down inside my head, like a spiral screwing through me from one ear to another. And it's hypnotizing, and it's good.
We've been in the same house for not more than three days now, but already feel them burning: the open road and the mind, like they were attracted to each other in some weird way.
Like a long time married couple, discussing all the time -but still in love.
Ready to leave and devour more landscapes, perfumes, sounds, heartbeats.
February 17, 2009
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Bergen, Hardanger, Bergen, Trondheim, Bergen, London, Bergen, London, Oslo, London, L.A., Auckland. In 2 weeks.
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground...
Or upside down, whatever you like. And this has nothing to do with the fact that we're on the other side of this globe, or anything like that. I guess it's about rotating prospectives and changing points of view on timetables and rythms. All opinions are basically smashed down on the floor, and while you walk towards them to pick them up and put them together, you slide on them like on a banana skin and smash yourself on the floor too.
So. I'm sitting on a leather sofa (my legs stickin' to it) drinking Waikato draught. The air is warm and full of summerish sounds. People walk around barefoot, and I still have a problem telling whether this is a gummy dream or sweet reality. And oh, I chew it anyway.
The room is full of half-unpacked luggage, and I have serious problems keeping my eyes open at 6 p.m. But i like it, I like how everything's happening so fast that i barely (and roughly) have the time to process it. I like the way all the pulsions just flow through me without any need for analysis.
I like it, like it.
The pics are on their way, a couple of weeks delayed as always.
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground...
Or upside down, whatever you like. And this has nothing to do with the fact that we're on the other side of this globe, or anything like that. I guess it's about rotating prospectives and changing points of view on timetables and rythms. All opinions are basically smashed down on the floor, and while you walk towards them to pick them up and put them together, you slide on them like on a banana skin and smash yourself on the floor too.
So. I'm sitting on a leather sofa (my legs stickin' to it) drinking Waikato draught. The air is warm and full of summerish sounds. People walk around barefoot, and I still have a problem telling whether this is a gummy dream or sweet reality. And oh, I chew it anyway.
The room is full of half-unpacked luggage, and I have serious problems keeping my eyes open at 6 p.m. But i like it, I like how everything's happening so fast that i barely (and roughly) have the time to process it. I like the way all the pulsions just flow through me without any need for analysis.
I like it, like it.
The pics are on their way, a couple of weeks delayed as always.
February 9, 2009
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