Lepopisana

What happens if I abstract a moth? I'm not interested in literal depiction of things from the visible world. I want to reshape the moth, to deconstruct it into colours and shapes only resembling the moth. By abstracting it only a whisper of a moth is left. Perhaps in doing so I would take away the scariness it evokes in me and all the moth dreams of my childhood I still remember. It's not a moth anymore, not really. It's just colour on paper after the water evapora ted, taking away scariness and dreams, and i t's beautiful. * Kaj bi se zgodilo, če bi abstrahirala veščo. Ne zanima me upodabljanje stvari iz resničnega sveta, take kot so. Rada bi preoblikovala vešč, jo zreducirala na barve in oblike, ki samo spominjajo nanjo, da bi ostal samo še odmev vešče. Morda bi tako lahko izničila vso strašljivost, ki jo vešče vzbujajo v meni in vse moje otroške sanje, v katerih so se pojavljale in se jih še vedno spominjam.  Ni več vešče, ne zares. Samo b

The book consists of thirteen chapters, all set in Black Swan Green, the most boring village in England, as the narrator, Jason Taylor sees it. It's witty and humorous, full of teenagers being busy growing up and fighting their own battles. The chapters can be easily read as separate stories, they seem disconnected, with only the main characters and the village keeping them together.  Jason Taylor is a teenager growing up in Black Swan Green. At school he is picked on and bullied by some of his tough mates. He doesn't tell his parents, it's his own battle. As is fighting the Hangman, a mysterious being in control of Jason's stuttering. Jason is the perfect material for bullying, he is different, his family moved to the village when he was little, so from the locals' point of view, they are still outsiders. And he writes poetry, which he publishes in the parish magazine, under a pseudonym. His mates don't know about it, but I'm sure they can smell &q

Ikea Vileš / Villesse. Bedroom walls. / Spalnične stene. :-)

I love moths ... on photographs. Every now and again I browse the net just to look at them. I love their colours, their Latin names bringing back mythology and poetry I stashed away in one of those far away dusty forgotten drawers. The real moths freak me out. I don't know why, and I can't help it. They just do. My first memory of a moth was when I was little. It was a black moth, or of some similar dark colour. I remember standing in the hallway in the apartment we used to live back then, staring at the spot just above the doorframe begging my mum to get rid of him. I always think of a moth as him, seems logical, kind of. Anyway she went at him with a hair brush, but since my mum isn't particularly tall, she missed him. He just spread his wings and slowly walked away to hide. He didn't seem worried at all. I remember dreaming about him that night, how I was holding the moth between my fingers.  I've been painting the moths in watercolours these last couple o

Literature professor Rose Asher is invited to La Civetta, a villa near Florence, with a sonnet and a note by her dead star student. She was there twenty years before, as an undergraduate and a love affair from that time still haunts her. When her boyfriend invites her to go with him, she refuses, however she couldn't turn down and invitation in a form of fourteen lines of iambic pentameter supposedly written by an Italian poetess, who Rose thinks is Shakespeare's Dark Lady. Who was Shakespeare's Dark Lady? I imagine her to be an older woman, sophisticated, educated, perhaps a rich noblewoman. I see her as a femme fatale, seducing a younger man. A woman ready to move on once she'd had enough of him, triggering his jealousy and becoming his female evil, his bad angel. But that's my version, possibly fuelled by something else I read. Rose thinks Shakespeare's Dark Lady is an Italian girl and is trying to find the sonnets she wrote to Shakespeare and

All along this road not a single soul - only autumn evening comes. Basho