On TRUTH and its different qualities...

Photography Sayaka Murayama (c) - all rights reserved

Performer/ visual artist Angela Costa -  all rights reserved

On TRUTH and two of its very different qualities,
the angular, intense, perforating image of the truth who brings pain
and,
the beautiful, soft, reassuring lightness image of the truth who brings fulfillment


both altough,
offering
clarity and realization
and that is always the best place to be in life - regardless of any fears, desires or disillusions.


Mask and veils off to ground
shields down
the naked vulnerable body - the TRUTH
appears
gracefully

A life of sharp, painful heroic TRUTH preferred
to a moment of pleasurable ignorant obscurity.

And the journey continues,
always
trough light, mist or darkness
towards TRUTH ...


(from my personal portrait and truth series - photographed by Sayaka Murayama)

After - London - Special Biftu (bonne chance a Paris) ...

So, another beautiful color swapping London for Paris ... leaving London a little more grey

Biftu, tout le meilleur et la plus brillante etoile brille au-dessus vous a Paris ^^

Marlon, thanks for the idea and another perfect, cosy, intimate, relaxing evening at your HACKNEY mansion of welcoming (first lady).

dinner ( an array of the most tempting non healthy food you can think off: chips, sugar, shrimp crackers, alcohol, tea and others ...)

The know trademark of this house: the COCK and others (the midget flower mobile, the Oyster and the Black and White film)

Biftu melancholy -  perfect, beautiful, perfect place, perfect moment.

The perfect number of guests                                       B. ( accidental - view from yellow tulip)
Biftu, M. and me                                  
(I am the Lady Di TEA CUP)        
( in high regard@this house)

au revoir x

breakfast day after                                                 lady D. reversed

Thank you  - always nice to help with the wash up after

I know I always scream the day after when I enter MY kitchen ...

*** Sun on Sunday *** food + friends ***

Some portuguese cooking preparation: chorizo, serrano ham and chicken croquettes.

I dont often cook, but when I do cook- I  REALLY cook ( like all day in the kitchen)

Third cut on left hand this month ... obviously Kitchen is not my place ... too dangerous!

The croquette dough ... Portuguese food takes like 20 H preparation ... but so worth it , so delicious in the end :)

Croquettes after dough + eggs and bread crumbs -  ready to be fried

SUN ))))

2x phones and the lovely vintage sun burned colour daisies :))) ( thanks And. love them)

Croquettes, marinated olives, crab and tomato rice ---- lunch aprox. 2 h late --- but managed to bring everything to the table + super BARGAIN all for 15£ ))))
(buy MALE crabs for some reason they are super cheap right now)

and dessert - Flan pudding with MOUNTAINS of caramel - the way I like it!

et du VIN of course ;)!
(And. love you chose this name Petites  ... ^^)

(after was a food and wine overdose and a lazy afternoon laying on the floor, semi sleeping  and talking - perfect!)

Food, Friends and Sun what more can you ask for in a perfect SUNDAY?

Skinner- exploring - inner - spaces

It has been only 2 weeks since my skinner class course finished and I am already missing it deeply.
I miss the ticket these these classes gave me of connecting with myself
I miss going inside my body and exploring the inner spaces
in my skull
in my spine,
in my legs
I miss the feeling of choreographing the inner space of my body

I MISS Skinner ....

Japan

I cut myself while cooking,

I followed the rules

and rescued my finger in white paper

Forgot about the blood

looked at it later

on top of my desk

and found beauty...

THE SHARK BITE ...

Four days ago I woke up remembering having a vivid dream.
I sat down 7.00a am in front of my Mac, and this short story came out:

THE SHARK BITE

I remember entering a scrapper corporate building – new york style -  going to the elevator and pushing the button to take me to the 3000 floor.

As I elevate, I feel vertiginous, with the thought of going to a place that is so far away from the ground I step.

I don’t  remember exactly why I went there, but it was something related to work, and at arrival there was two secretaries who seemed to know me well.

( white -  white -  white – memory eraser – cannot recall)

(jump -  next scene)

I jump to a beach place, resort holiday style, northern Europe alike.

I am told we are very near the north pole and I ask: isn’t the see water too cold for all of those happy people to be bathing in?

There is a common, joyful, natural holiday vive to the place: nothing out of ordinary or away from what you would expect: people sitting on the sand, enjoying, talking, relaxing and people playing, having fun I the see -  children too -  young  families mostly.

I melt with the flow and join the place

I am now running barefoot nearby the see water – with the end of the waves greeting me

I play, joy unaware with my little dog

Nearby the water end streamline

The joy and enthusiasm build up

And I forget the water is cold,

I forget I am fully dress

And in the momentum

of the running play and catch game with my little white dog

I fall deeper into the  water, into the see

For a moment I remember

That the water is cold

That I have my clothes on – and that this is a bit of a silly thing to do ( going in the water fully clothed )

Suddenly I feel danger

I went to deep on the water

And I can feel know the challenging strength

Of what it seems to a strong wave

Curling back to the sea

In all its strength

Pushing me back to the sea –into a unknown place I fear
I am in threat

(Pause – focus -  slow motion)

( The scene frozens in this moment and takes into revelation)

I am being taken away

I realize

Something has got hold of me and is now pushing me strongly into the sea,

Away from my world- the ground, the beach

I resist,

With all and extra strength

All my body in tension

Popping out of itself

directing to land

My arms raised above water

Holding my white little dog – unware of any danger

My focus only to escape

And keep my little white dog

Away from the water

We both have to escape predation

A long moment

Of dual opposite forces

Push intensely in opposite ways

One is me and my dog

We are  the prey: escaping – pushing towards  to safe ground , to life, to security

Another is what I sense to be the wave, the sea

The predator

Wanting sincerely only  to feed  regardless

(stop -  frozen scene – silence -  focus -  zoom into meaning/emotion)

now the world around disappears

like someone came with an eraser into this picture

and erased both the beach, the people, the sound, the sea

now there is only

focus, silence

the prey and the predator

alone

in this choreographic moment

of conflict

where they push themselves out  of themselves in opposite directions…

( outside this characters 

and as a consequence

a great force is created

I wonder where it will manisfest? Where will it go … as it must go somewhere…. )

One last push forwad

And I defeat the sea
escape to land

Holding to my chest

My little white dog

I glimpse a shark fin

Appearing and disapering into the water

It was not the sea who was pulling me

It was the shark who got old of me

And I have escaped it

I look at  my back

And I have a hughe shark bite mark

Beautifully healed

Like a drawing

No blood, no pain

No shock,
No fear

Just a confused sense of realization

I have escaped the shark bite

But the memory was left

Permanently

on the body

Feet on safety on known land

I watch the sea

And the people inside it

I fear for them now
I want  to shout
be carefull
there is a shark in these waters

But I have no voice
I have no will
I only have eyes

And I see the shark again

Unexpectedly attempting on prey again

This time it is a young boy child/baby

He bites

Again no blood, no pain, no shouting

Can only remember the slow motion

Expression of the child

Being caught in surprise

Into the mouth of the predator

All is too quick

And smooth
and poetic

The shark has feed

The child disappears
fades from the scene
as if it never was there

And the people on the sea

Continue In they playfull routines
Unaware...

Only I have witness

This intimate moment of prey

(conclusion -  leaving the beach)

I turn my back to the sea
walk out of the beach

Feeling safe
step after step
on the sand

And holding my dearest gift

My little white dog
Close to me

As I step into a certain latitude

High black iron gates raise from the sand
behind me

separating me from the beach and this scenes

I am no longer in this place

And it is now that I turn and look back

From behind the safety of the iron gates

The shark leaves the water now

And in madness fury

Comes into land

directed my way

Convulsing outside his world

But still enduring

It twists and curves

in pain and fury

Why does it want to follow me?

And risk its life ?

Why is it in fury?

I look closely
and realize

the shark is a mix of two animals

the head perfect defined – a shark -  a predator

the body sofly curved  -  a seal -  the prey

The shark

Stepping into land

Reveals its true nature

Conflicting in its own existence

Both prey and predator…

I have escaped (?) the shark bite ….

But I am still looking back
from behind the gates

a tender interest
towards this fascinating dual creature

half predator, half prey

who has now left his world…

I stand behind the gates,
looking after
the shark/seal

waiting for the next scene ....

End… (?)

Art and Truth ... the old verities and the truths of the heart (from William Faulkner, Literature Nobel Prize accepting speech)

I have always craved for Truth in my life,
I always looked for it and I have always fulfilled myself in finding it ( even in those times when it came with sacks of violent paint attached...)

But now I  feel  I really understand its crucial importance, in its full scale
in the quest for all of what is on the top of GOODNESS we can achieve in this life as human beings...


Now I fully believe how without it, we cannot really begin to aspire to manifest art, or beauty...
Truth does not always bring peace, joy or contentment, but it will always brings BEAUTY and FULFILLMENT - for me at least...

Looking at William Faulkner Literature nobel prize accepting speech, where he stands up for his belief that true art will not start from any other place apart from the old truth of the human heart, and that anything else not originating from this pure place of human truth cannot be anything more that entertaining -  somehow I can so fully understand him in his belief ( because it is my own).

And how BEAUTIFUL the GENEROSITY of this man, at the time of his highest artistic recognition he chooses to be humble and give still some more to all of us ...

I finish this post - with this mans beautiful, truthfull words....

" ....Our tragedy today is a general and universal fear so long sustained by now that we CAN even BEAR IT.
There are NO LONGER PROBLEMS of THE SPIRIT.
There is only the question: when will I be blown up?  Because of this the young man writing today has forgotten the problems of the HUMAN HEART in CONFLICT with ITSELF , which alone can make good writing  about, worth the agony and the sweat.

HE MUST LEARN THAT AGAIN. He must teach himself that THE BASEST OF ALL THINGS is TO BE AFRAID.

And , teaching himself that, forget it forever ( the FEAR), leaving no room in his workshop (in his creative mind)  for anything  but THE OLD VERITIES of the HEART, the old  UNIVERSAL TRUTHS in which lacking any story ( and creative work) is ephemeral and doomed -  love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice.

Until he does so, he works under a curse.
He writes ( creates)  not of LOVE but of LUST, of defeats in which NOBODY loses anything of VALUE, of victories without hope and, WORST of ALL  WITOUTH PITY or COMPASSION.
His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars.
He writes ( creates)  not of the heart but of the glands.

Until he learns this things, he will write as if he stood among and watched the end of man.
I DECLINE to ACEPT the END of MAN.

It is easy enough to say that MAN is IMMORTAL simply BECAUSE HE WILL ENDURE ( his truthful creation will endure): that when the last "ding-dong" of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tidelesss in the last red and dying evening ( how beautiful this image is!!), that even then there will still be  one more sound: that os his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking.

I refuse to accept this. I believe that MAN will NOT MERELY ENDURE: he will PREVAIL.
He is immortal, not because  he alone among creatures has a inexhaustible voice, but BECAUSE he HAS A SOUL, a  SPIRIT CAPABLE of COMPASSION and SACRIFICE  and ENDURANCE.

The poet, the writter ( the artist) duty is to write ( create) about this things. It is his privilege  to HELP MAN ENDURE by LIFTING his HEART, by reminding him of the COURAGE and HONOR and HOPE and PRIDE and COMPASSION and PITY and SACRIFICE which have been THE GLORY of HIS PAST.

The poets ( artist) voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

( William Faulkner -  from is Literature Nobel Prize Accepting Speech)