you can't jump into the same river twice

time.
Zeit.

Indo-Germanic:
dā. "to divide, cut, tear apart"

The "now" that is now, is no longer the same "now" in this very moment,

or:
"You can't jump into the same river twice" (Heraclitus)

However:

The "now" that was once remains unbroken in art,

or:
Heraclitus was not quite right...

Vermeer's Milk Maid

The constant flow of time in a calm flow of milk. The jug hasn't emptied since 1658.
(Check for close-up to see the impressive study of fluid in motion...)

Francesco Furini, Lucia

the smell of skin, the taste of dismissal, flicker of candles, rustling of fabric

Lucia, the saint of light, bathing in intimate chiaroscuro - between seduction and abstinence. Her charms are obvious, in contrast to her attribute, the eyeballs.

Bruno Liljefors, Jaybird

cool air, the smell of rotting leaves, surprise, infinity, fragility

The artistic point of view of a professional hunter.

Anders Zorn, A Premiere

laughter, the gurgle of water, gooseflesh, the sound of splashing and encouraging words

In uptight Europe, Anders Zorn turned portraits of Nordic "shamelessness" into gold.

it's there but it's not

Yay! I found a tutor for my thesis! Well, this announcement isn't that spectacular since sombody had to take care of me anyway. On rare occasions however, I can get incredibly resolute in the face of (universitarian) bureaucracy. I tracked down a teacher who is in fact already retired, I persuaded him due to my hazy but great ideas and he agreed to help me write my thesis after my straightening out of the concept.

Eternal growth: Francesco Zucchi, La Primavera

After two weeks of hesitant reading I'm beginning to doubt my sanity - since writing about "time" would involve a lot of phenomenology. And phenomenologists really aren't nice people. Most of them just don't want anyone to understand their thoughts. At least they don't want me to follow them. Maybe I just reached the limits of my cerebral capacity. Or phenomenology is nothing but the philosophical incarnation of a tale called "The emperor's new clothes"... Pretending to understand things that never made sense anyway... Owww - come on, let me dream....

Eternal death: Matheus Bloem, Still life

So... time... the thing is that it doesn't even exist. Although everybody knows time, it has always been terribly difficult to define what it is. Take physical time, for instance. There was the need of a precise definition of time, so we built atomic clocks. Assuming that we have 5 atomic clock and 1 shows a different time due to a technical problem. The 4 other clocks will reprehend the 5th for giving the wrong time. But theoretically, they could be wrong too. In this case, time is given through a majority of votes. Before the physicists we had ancient priests, medieval merchants, astronomers and even popes to give us time. Difining time means the possibility to coordinate all kinds of processes happening in different places. "Possessing" time means influence over work rhythms, the flow of money and goods, and many more. Ultimately, it means power over growth, evolution, and death. More power, more money.

Paolo Uccello, The Battle of San Romano. Early study of movement: the body in time and space

So, time doesn't really exist, but it has the power to make us ridiculously wealthy if we happen to walk on the bright side of life. On the other hand it is an unsatiable Big Eater - nothing can withstand it. Pretty impressive for a nonexistent thing, eh?!
Have you ever tried to picture time? I mean T-I-M-E; not a clock or a number, your wrinkles, children growing up, the four seasons, an hour glass or the expiry date on a yogurt. Try it. I bet it won't work. Time ultimately needs space to be grasped by the human mind. Time has to be imagined connected to an event or an object, otherwise it remains an empty formula.

How about the ultimate absence of time? Ever tried to imagine that one: eternity? Or, worse: eternal space? A friend told me that his mother comes close to black-out every time she attempts thinking of the endlessness of the universe. Well, it is a brain twister...

appendix & update

The cliffs near Ales Stenar

Afterword to my trip to southern Scania.
Not a lot of pictures.
Plus, I didn't take my camera to lovely Stenshuvud National Park.

Anyway.
I just hate stealing the illustrations for my blog from the Web...

My life here might be pretty idyllic, however, the topics I'm currently dealing with aren't. The spring term is nearing its end, the deadlines for papers, presentations and assignments are approaching, merciless professors are handing out even more papers, students are frantically working and missing the most beautiful days of the year :(

But, let's face it, I am learning a lot, right now...

Park at Häckeberga castle

I have just finished an enormously interesting book dealing with King Leopold's colonial terror regime in the Congo. In only ten years, the people working for the Belgian used up half of the Congo's population - an estimated 8-10 millions - in the chase for rubber and ivory.

Obviously, the other colonial forces wolfing down the African cake weren't any better. Still, cutting off heads and hands doesn't become an acceptable act, just because everybody does it.

The international movement against the Congo atrocities sprung from one man, E.D. Morel, and was one of the first and biggest, regarding human rights. Mark Twain participated in the Anti-Congo protest marches. Today, however, the whole story is forgotten.

All in all, Hochschild's book was a totally enjoyable and enlightening read:
King Leopold's Ghost

I am currently reading another high-class book for my course on religious terrorism:
Charles Kimball, When Religion Becomes Evil. Kimball presents five warning signs of corrupted religion, and tries to offer a series of correctives for each of them.

This course belongs, in a way, to one of these academic experiences that have deeply transformed my way of thinking, of researching, and my overall approach to relevant matters.

Let's face it - whether you're having a spiritual practice or not, whether you like religion(s) or not - they're gonna stick around for quite some time... And they are shaping our political, economical and social reality to such a great extent, that we ought to find a way to talk about and deal with these matters without being either afraid of being looked upon as a loony, nor ending up in the realm of blind beliefs, or total speculation.

Ales Stenar

With my group for this course, I am preparing the presentation of a Ugandan rebel/religious terrorist group, the LRA (Lord's Resistance Army). This group is (partly) responsible for one of the worst humanitarian emergencies worldwide - I doubt however, that anyone in the West has ever heard about it. Here is a blog on all recent developments: Uganda Watch

The deeper I delve into the subject, the crazier and hazier it gets. I ended up in a spider's web, where everyone seems to have their hands entangled in some dirty business.

The idea of a second, invisible reality known in many traditional myths, is often presented as an enormous spider's web that connects all beings, spirits, thoughts, places, and times.
Working here in Lund, I start to understand...

highly unorganized - if not even messy - post

So, I hear people complaining I should write more often. Yeahyeahyeah... Here I am. Writing.

What have I been up to during the last weeks? There has been a lot of photographing, reading, thinking, cooking, laughing and talking... The same as always yet always different... I feel supremely inspired.

Discussions of the last weeks have made me reconsider a lot of my jaunty little-girl-life-concepts. The world weighs much heavier on my shoulders now - but it's as beautiful as always to me. Maybe even more. However, while reflecting and trying to find my way in this jungle of new demands, I remembered a word I heard months ago in an Austrian radio show; it's called Quarterlife Crisis. I started to investigate and came across Erik H. Erikson, the guy we have to blame that the words identity and identity crisis are nowadays everyday-words. To cut it short: I'm reading his book Identity: Youth and Crisis; and I have to say that it's great to read some psychological stuff once in a while.

These are two old demonstrators standing in front of the University building every day. I have no clue what they want and neither do they.

Now I have a nice psychological advice for you:

Wanna make friends? Go paint in public. No matter how bad your art may be, I'll bet you that you'll have made three new friends in no time.

Wanna be alone? Go take pictures. I have no explanation, but the mere presence of a camera will create the aura of an untouchable around you. People will forgo you with at least 10m distance, or even wrap their lunch back in its box and leave the bench they have been sitting on. Haha. They think it's them you're taking pictures of. Ha. Arrogant egocentrics.

Run! There's a camera!

My camera has become some kind of third eye, or second mouth, or however I can express the fact that my Self has somehow decided to shift from linguistic to visual eloquence (I know some people who are probably utterly thankful to hear this). Whatever goes on in side of me at the moment, I haven't the faintest idea of how to put it in words. But a simple click of my beloved Nikon does it. Thanx to the generous donator! :)

Summer waved good-bye

I don't even care to write coherent posts any more. Now I'll be talking about things like music and art and literature again. Because, you know, input is important.

So, first, go and listen to E.S.T.! They haven't payed me to tell you this, so just trust my sincere recommendation. I haven't heard anything so vibrant, luscious and deep in a long time (my favourite: Seven Days of Falling) Erm... and they are playing in Vienna, February 23rd 2007... Ah, by the way, this is some kind of rock-jazz-post-bop. Whatever, trust me, Scandinavians are by far the best European Jazzers. They are! And I knew that before coming here.

If waiting until February seems to long for you and you want something inspiring right now, go to Peter Callesen's Homepage. It's surprising what beautiful things one can cut out of a little piece of paper, and I guess his artform is what some people would call "sustainable".

If on the other hand you happen to be not such an artsy kind of person or/and longing for something deep and meaningful, I highly recommend Gustav Herling's book A World Apart. I'll simply go with Albert Camus and tell you that this book about life in a Soviet Gulag should be published and read in every language. It may seem paradox, but one can actually draw hope from these accounts of the darkest pits of (un)human condition and despair.



Not so inspired to read a book like this in winter? I've got something else, namely Mikhail Naimy's The Book of Mirdad. And when you're done with it you'll have accomplished a whole year's reading, because this is 20 books in one. Just better. And that's all I can say if I don't want to desecrate this piece of art. Thanks to the generous donator!

And now to something completely different:
This is what shadows look like at this time of the year - picture taken at 12:30.

And finally: Voilà Maman: un rayon "godis" dans une vidéothèque. Il y en a un deuxième juste en face. Et c'est presque la même chôse au super-marché... Miamiamslurp...

victor-Y!

There are these strange noises in my ears (*huiiishwhooompwhooomp*) and I think I'm hallucinating: letters and phrases swirling around me! I guess my brain is not really used to reading at a speed of some 250 pages per 5 hours - and I'm not talking about the easy-to-read literature you grab when you're waiting for the hairdresser to give you a makeover or the doctor to check you!
It's not very respectable yet I need to praise myself for today's work, otherwise I'll never get myself to do it again - although I really need to (tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after the day after tomorrow, ...) Can you believe that all this reading is necessary to write a 5-pages-essay?

But at least my grey matter is stuffed with facts about this genius called Victor Sjöström (or Seastrom, as Americans have re-named him). Please, go and watch one of his movies because I don't have the time to. As far as I read Ingeborg Holm, The Phantom Carriage, Name the Man, He who gets slapped, and of course The Scarlet Letter, are totally recommendable (don't watch He who gets slapped, though, if you happen to be afraid of clowns). It's almost tragicomic that I could give you a detailled overview on Sjöströms achievements and his importance for the development of film as an independent art form without ever having seen any of his work.

But maybe I just discovered one of the beautiful side-effects of studying: one can talk a lot and still be a total ignorant.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that the films mentioned above are silent movies. But this is not an excuse to go past Victor Sjöström! Watch Bergman's Wild Strawberries instead (Sjöström plays the central character) - you'll love it. At least I did.

hello brain? anyone in there?

Tell me, is this a big pile of books?

It isn't. But it alarms me that I have it in my room since I'm here. Today I only returned the first book. After 2 months... Do I only imagine myself being a highspeed-reader?! What is going on here? (And I know that was a tremendously stupid question to ask)

I don't even have the excuse that the books are uninteresting, because they simply aren't. They are fascinating. This book I returned today was about Americanization in Sweden and it's one of the most intelligent ones I've read in the last 2 months. But my eyes stick to the printed letters, like glue...

Besides, I have some assignments/essays to hand in by next week and I still havent the faintest idea of the things I should write about. I think it has something to do with Ingmar Bergman and Viktor Sjöström... but I already forgot. I don't freak out, which I find utterly impressing! And again, it would be unnecessary and stupid to ask why this is so...

In addition to that, I'm having a hard time trying to get my brain to remind some strange-sounding words of a totally freaked-out language that my mouth refuses to pronounce properly.

It's a big mess.
I love it!

P.S. to Silvia: I still look like an alcoholic...

cries and whispers

Another Bergman film today... Funny, I had done a lot of reading before actually watching it and there was a lot that was just as I had imagined and a lot that did not touch me the way I had expected. I guess that this film must be shocking for people who have never talked about death openly, nor reflected it frankly nor have experienced the death of a loved one.

The movie reminded me of my grandmother whom I think a lot of these past weeks. People often tell me that I look a lot like her, that I even move like her. It's true that I often had the impression of looking in a mirror when looking at old pictures of her. I inherited her restlessness, her eyes, her hair, her silhouette, her nails - but she never gave me the chance to get to know this person I'm appaerently so alike.

I saw her die and I don't think of that time as an especially dark or depressing one although it was all very moving. I remember being very curious about her state, especially about her thoughts. I wanted to know what it is like to face death, I did want to learn everything I could from her and I told her that more than once. She always refused. She always used to turn away, mute. Maybe she thought that I would be afraid of what she had to say? Or maybe it was all just too personal for her. I'm almost sure that my request forced her to think about what she didn't want to face.

Still it's the only thing I can't let go: that she refused my hand and didn't want to give me hers.

Persona

Was ich am Studieren mag? Wenn es Früchte trägt. Wenn die ganze Leserei und Lernerei und Schauerei dazu führt, dass sich im Kopf eigene Gedanken bilden. Wenn man merkt, dass man sehr wohl schon in der Lage ist, eine ausgereifte, vielleicht sogar "professionelle" Antwort aus dem im Hirn Vorhandenen zu bilden, ohne vorher tagelang recherchieren zu müssen. Und ja, es ist ein gutes Gefühl, wenn es einem gelingt, den/die Prof zu überraschen.

Gestern, während der Diskussion nach dem Film "Persona" (Bergman, 1965) war so ein magischer Moment. In meinem Kopf war hängengeblieben, dass der Charakter der Elisabeth Vogler (die das Sprechen verweigert) das Sprechen während einer Vorstellung aufgibt, bei der sie die "Elektra" spielt. Das wird nur ganz kurz erwähnt, man könnte es fast überhören. Und der Punkt auf den ich hinauswollte, war die Parallele zwischen Elektras Schicksal (a-lektra bedeutet "vom Bett (der Eltern) Verstoßene") als ungeliebtem Kind, ihrer Verhärtung und Rachsucht, ihrer Sehnsucht nach dem verlorenen Vater - und den Frauen in diesem Film, die ihre Kinder verlieren, verloren haben, von sich stoßen... Es ist sogar Elisabeths Sohn, der namenlos bleibt und nur einige kurze Minuten lang gezeigt wird, der das Hauptmotiv der Verschmelzung der Persönlichkeit einleitet: er übernimmt die Rolle der Elektra, wird aber nicht von Sehnsucht zum verstorbenen Vater getrieben, sondern von Sehnsucht nach der Mutter, die ihn verstoßen hat - damit wird er zu Elektras männlichem Gegenstück, Ödipus. Das Motiv der Eltern-Kind-Beziehung (wer schützt/ernährt wen?) wird in diesem Film also erst dann deutlich erkennbar, wenn man die Geschichte der "Elektra" näher betrachtet.
Ha, und das alles auf Englisch auszuführen, vor einer riesigen Klasse und einem wirklich kompetenten Prof. war schon nicht so einfach- und dann dessen erstaunte Reaktion... Hm, ja, ein absolutes Glücksgefühl!
Es geht nicht nur ums Angeben! Geht auch darum zu erkennen, dass die Kohle, die in mich investiert wird, nicht umsonst ist.

Und übrigens: ich habe trotzdem recherchiert. Auf die Idee, die Geschichte der Elektra im Zusammenhang mit diesem Film näher zu durchleuchten, bin ich nicht als Erste gekommen, natürlich. Aber die meisten Analysen sehen darin eine Vorgeschichte der Elisabeth Vogler, nicht ein Hauptmotiv des ganzen Films.

*°*°*

What I like about being a student are the moments when you realize that your work is actually leading somewhere, moments in which you discover that all this reading, learning and peering is leading you to new thoughts of your own. You suddenly see that you are perfectly capable of giving well-thought, "professional" answers to maybe difficult questions with what you already have in your head and without needing to camp in the library for days. And of course, moments in which you succeed in surprising your teachers.

My time came during the discussion on the film "Persona" (Bergman, 1965). It struck me that the charakter of Elisabeth Vogler (who refuses to speak and is therefor in therapy), stops talking durin a stage performance in which she plays the part of "Elektra". This is mentioned very briefly at the beginning of the film, but I constantly had to think of it. So during the discussion I tried to explain my instant association between Elektra's fate and some main motives of the film. Elektra (which means "the one pushed away from the - parents' - bed") is an unloved child driven by a burning love for her dead father and overwhelming hatred for her mother who she kills. Once you think of her story, the motive of children longing for their parents and parents losing or casting away their children in "Persona" really begins to stick out. Especially Elisabeth's son, who is just shown for a few minutes during the film and doesn't seem to be very important, initiates the main motive of the fusion of personality: he is a kind of Elektra, but not longing for a dead father, but for the unreachable mother. By this, he becomes Elektra's male counterpart, Oedipus.

Phew, wasn't easy to explicate all of this in front of a huge class and our very competent teacher in English - but, well, his amazed reaction made me feel so happy!
This is not about showing off (not only...) It's about realizing that all the money put into my education is worth something...

Oh, and of course I went to the library to do some research: in fact, I wasn't the first one to think about the meaning of Elektra's story in "Persona", of course. But the other authors generally interprete it as Elisabeth's previous history. Just so you know...

finally!

Heute Nachmittag und Abend war meine Vorlesung ueber Schwedischen Film. Es gibt endlich was zu tun, nämlich lesen, lesen, lesen und viele viele Filme schauen (zusätzlich zu den ~15, die wir dieses Semester während der Vorlesungen sehen werden)... Hu, meine Streberaugen leuchten! :)

Den Auftakt hat heute Ingmar Bergmans Film Wilde Erdbeeren ("Smultronstället") aus 1957 gemacht. Ein stiller, aber sehr beruehrender und aufwuehlender Film. Jede einzelne Einstellung ist eine ästhetische Urgewalt, die ganze Geschichte wirkt auf mich traumwandlerisch, aber mit sehr sicherer Hand erzählt. Eine wehmuetige aber schöne Geschichte um - naja, eigentlich immer das gleiche: Zwischenmenschliches, Herzenswärme, Geborgenheit, Vergebung, Familien und ihre Generationen, Rollen, altern,... So ungefähr.

Das Auge hat Zeit zu sehen und zu geniessen. Im Hirn Assoziationen wie Luftballons auf (was eine Art Parallel-film vor dem Inneren Auge ergibt). Das Hirn ist also beschäftigt, während sich die Seele ganz unbemerkt beruehren lassen kann von dem, was diesen Film so besonders macht, ohne dass ich wuesste, was es ist... Conclusio: nochmal schaun!!!

Ahja, und wer Gelegenheit hat, den Film im O-Ton anzuschauen: sehr empfehlenswert. Ich muss mit den Vorurteilen aufräumen, Schwedisch sei eine hässliche Knödlsprache. Das ist nämlich ueberhaupt nicht wahr.

***

I finally have something to do! My course on Swedish Film just started today and I have tons and tons of books to read and looots of films to watch (in addition to the approx. 15 films we'll watch during the lectures this term...)! I know I'm a nerd...

We started with Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries from 1957. A very calm but moving film. The beauty of each shot is simply overwhelming and the whole plot is told in a kind of dreamy state, still Bergman doesn't lose his viewers for a single moment. It's a melancholic but beautiful story about - well, isn't it always the same?: human interaction, security, generosity, forgiveness, families and (psychic) inheritance, loneliness and growing old(er)...

My eyes had time to look and enjoy and my brain was dealing with a huge bunch of associations emerging like soap-bubbles, while my soul could secretely get in touch with what makes this film so special (which I still haven't figured out and somehow I don't even want to over-analyze...) Conclusion: have to watch it again!

Oh, and if you have the opportunity to watch this movie in Swedish, do so. I'm tired of all these prejudices saying that Swedish is a nasty language - it's simply NOT TRUE!

one, two, three, go!

Seit heute bin ich wieder fleissige (?) Studentin. Oder, sagen wirs anders herum: ich wäre gerne fleissige Studentin, aber ich vermute, dass ich mein Hirn selbst beschäftigen werde muessen.

Mein Semester hat jedenfalls unglaublich gemuetlich begonnen, nämlich mit nur einem Kurs; der Schwedischen Musikgeschichte (wer denkt, ich mach den auf Schwedisch, hat mich ueberschätzt). Von der Gesamtzeit (13.15 - 16:00) war alles in allem eine ganze Stunde lang Pause. *kopfkratz* Dafuer sind die Sitze 1a Spitzenklasse; man stelle sich gepolsterte (!) Möbel in der Grösse von Flugzeug-Sitzen vor, und dann einfach ein grösseres, natuerlich einklappbares Schreibbord vor einem. Mmmh. Und das in einem Raum, der ungefähr die Grösse eines durchschnittlichen Volksschulklassenzimmers hat!

Es ist immer das Gleiche mit diesen Ueberblicksvorlesungen: sie sind ein bisschen wie French Cuisine. Sehr häufig sehr appetitlich präsentiert, teuer (in diesem Fall das Lernmaterial), aber man ist hinterher immer noch verdammt hungrig. Manchmal sogar noch hungriger als davor. Und Buecher gibt es erst nächste Woche.

Na gut, dann fahr ich halt nach Kopenhagen!

***

Yipie, I'm a busy student again! Hm, let's say it in other words: I want to be a busy student but I suppose that I'll have to feed my hungry grey matter on my own.

My term started very calm with only one lecture (Swedish music history) this afternoon. It lasted almost 3 hours, during which we had two (!) breaks of 30 minutes (!!!) each. Hmmm... The course took place in a small room with high-class furniture: very comfortable cushioned (!) seats like in an airplane with huge retractable boards in front of you. Wow!

It's always the same thing with these survey-lectures: they have big similarity to French Cuisine. They are very often very well presented, expensive (in this case it's the learning material) and they leave you hungry. Sometimes even more hungry than before. And books will only be avalable from next week!

Very well then, I'll do other things instead - a trip to Copenhagen, for instance?