My Blue Garbage Bin

It's snowing. The snowflakes look heavy. I know they won't last. I've been thinking about spring lately and a cool blue colour, almost turquoise comes to mind quite often. It's funny, how I seem to see it everywhere: in a cover of a book I just read or on one I am going to read in near future. I remember the ice cream which became popular years ago, when I was still at school. It was called Blue Summer Sky, it was cold blue and had almost no taste, apart from something synthetic. All the same, the colour was beautiful. I like using this cold blue, almost turquoise in my paintings when I want to emphasise the cold of an arctic landscape, composed of overlapping texts no one can read anymore. Or was it the coldness of estranged people speaking to no one.

On Saturday we went to a shop we haven't been to for quite a long time. I don't remember it's name, but it's a kind of shop that sells household items and we needed a new gasket for an old Italian cafetiere. After we entered the shop we didn't immediately notice that it wasn't the same shop, although the overpowering smell of plastic wasn't characteristic. "Look, it's different." M said. "That's because it's not what it was." I said "It's a Chinese shop. Never mind, let's see what they have." The shop is called La Vita and they sell everything, from baby toys to plastic funeral wreaths. We soon found what we were looking for and then decided to browse a little bit more. I found a notebook and a little plastic garbage bin, both cool blue, almost turquoise. Later I saw that the cover of a book I'm going to read soon is the same colour. Cool blue, almost turquoise. The title of the book is The Power of the Centre, written by Rudolf Arnheim. 

*

Sneži. Snežinke so videti težke in vem, da se sneg ne bo obdržal. Zadnje čase veliko razmišljam o pomladi. Velikokrat pomislim na hladno modro barvo, skoraj turkizno. Hecno je, kako jo vidim skoraj povsod: na primer ma platnicah knjige, ki sem jo pred kratkim prebrala. Spomnila sem se sladoleda, ki je postal moderen, ko sem še bila v šoli. Imenoval se je modro poletno nebo, bil je podobne modre barve, okusa pa ni imel skoraj nobenega, razen če ne šteješ nečesa nedefinirano sintetičnega. Kljub temu je bila barva lepa. Rada uporabljam tako hladno modro, skoraj turkizno, ko hočem v slikah poudariti hlad arktične pokrajine, sestavljene iz prekrivajočih se besedil, ki jih nihče več ne more prebrati. Morda pa gre za hlad odtujenih ljudi, ki jih nihče ne posluša.

V soboto sva šla v trgovino, v kateri že dolgo nisva bila. Ne spominjam se več njenega imena, bila je to neke vrste gospodinjska trgovina, v kateri sva hotela poiskati novo tesnilo za kafetiero. Čeprav naju je ob vhodu napadel močan vonj po plastiki, ki za to trgovino ni bil značilen, najprej nisva ugotovila, da je to nekaj drugega. Kmalu nama je postalo jasno, da trgovina, v kateri že dolgo nisva bila, ne obstaja več. Namesto nje je sedaj tam kitajska trgovina, ki se imenuje La Vita in prodajajo vse, od otroških igrač pa do plastičnih nagrobnih vencev. Kmalu sva našla kar sva iskala, potem pa sva se odločila, da še malce prebrskava, morda najdeva še kaj zanimivega. Kupila sva še zvezek in plastično kanto za smeti, oboje v hladni modri, skoraj turkizni barvi. Kasneje sem doma opazila, da je naslovnica knjige, ki jo nameravam prebrati, enake barve. Hladne modre, skoraj turkizne. Naslov knjige, ki jo je napisal Rudolf Arnheim, je Moč centra.