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»Time, a handy fiction to explain why everything doesn't happen all at once. Or maybe we're the fiction, moving minute by minute...through the Twilight Zone.« V diplomski nalogi z naslovom Napiši mi sliko sem se spraševala o združevanju pisave s podobo in o mestu kaligrafije v likovni umetnosti. Že takrat sem si zastavila dve vprašanji, ki pa sem ju namenoma pustila obviseti v zraku: vprašanje odprtosti umetniškega dela in vprašanje prostora praznine. Oboje je povezano s pogledom gledalca. Z odprtim umetniškim delom umetnik povabi gledalca, da vanj vnese svoje osebne lastnosti, kulturo, okus, nagibe in predsodke, da vstopi vanj. Umetniško delo je tako spremenjeno z osebno perspektivo gledalca in  temelji na sodelovanju gledalca. Odprta umetniška dela dajejo gledalcu možnost, da sam interpretira in razume delo. Vsako umetniško delo, čeprav je ustvarjeno na podlagi upoštevanja jasnih pravil, je vedno odprto za neskončno mnogo možnih dojemanj, zaradi katerih je delo

Dragi moji 3,62 bralca, Prejšnji petek ali 20. prosinca 2017. leta sem na Arthousu, šoli za risanje in slikanje, uspešno zagovarjala magistrsko nalogo z naslovom V tvojem pogledu. Vsled pravkar navedenega dejstva, bo nekaj naslednjih petkov na voljo branje moje naloge v nadaljevanjih, kot se za pravi feljton spodobi. Ne ustraši se, vrli bralec, materija bo primerno razredčena, da ne bo predolgo. Pa še utrinek s samega dogodka: Foto: DV

During my university final exam when I was defending my thesis entitled Write Me A Painting, professor Ž asked me whether there was a particular ideology behind the title. I could easily have named the thesis the other way around, like Paint Me a Letter. I answered I was aware of that, but back then I saw myself as a calligrapher, a writer of paintings. I don't know, perhaps I saw both titles as the other side of the same coin. I used to write with a broad nibbed pen or a flat brush, closely following the rules of calligraphy. When I started painting, I incorporated my calligraphy into my paintings. I wrote with a brush, using acrylic paint on canvas. I started thinking about what I was. Was I a calligrapher or a painter? Slowly I stopped writing, although letters remained my subject matter. Than something happened, I'm not quite sure what it was, but writing with a pen gradually made me nervous. I used to be patient, writing for hours non-stop was never a problem. A cou

This was one hell of a read. I heard it was horrible, however I found it a surprisingly quick read. There was no reluctance to pick the book up and continue reading, even though I said to myself I can leave it any time I wanted if I found it intolerable. When I closed the book, after I read the final sentences, I remember thinking it was bloody brilliant. It opened certain questions I never considered before or not seriously enough. We Need to Talk About Kevin is a novel written in a form of letters from Eva to her husband Franklin after their son Kevin Columbine style killed seven of his school friends, a teacher and a cafeteria worker. Eva never wanted to have children. Franklin wanted a traditional happy family and in time Eva relented. Her reason for having a child was to turn a new leaf in her life, to take up a new challenge. In my opinion, for all the wrong reasons. After Kevin was born he resented her as much as she resented him. It felt as sort of a payback. He was a

Even though I don't much like winter, I like the smell of ice. Some people keep reminding me ice has no smell, but I know it does. It has the ability to invoke stories as well and not all of them have to do with cold ... * Čeprav nisem najbolj navdušena nad zimo, mi je všeč vonj ledu. Ja, saj vem ... nekaj jih je, ki še kar trdijo, da led nima vonja, vendar še vedno misim, da ga ima ... ne, vem, da ga ima. Pa poln zgodb je, ki nimajo vse zveze z mrazom.