when forced to sleep

Joy

... has arrived in my brother's home and thereby within my heart!

my personal saint

This lady might be familiar to some of You, she has been blogged before, both on "Lady of the Lake" (in swedish) and on the blog of a close friend. Now I want to introduce her also to my dear blogvisitors from abroad.

I do not know the actual name of this lady, not even her true origin but at least she is no garden gnome, because if she was I would never allow her to take residence on my working desk as she is doing now. The most likely scenario is biblical, but I somehow get the feeling that the women in the biblical stories just went on carrying their water pitchers day in day out, and that's probably the reason why it can be a little difficult to distinguish one from the other. On the shelf however, it is written "Venezia" and so from now on that's what I will call her.

Venezia once upon a time stood on my grandmother's mirror table approximately one or two meters away from the bed where I was sleeping during "family emergencies" - by that I mean being sick and abscent from the daycare centre or school, or for other reasons that simply required I'd stay at my grandparent's overnight. Then, after some time had passed, she by accident or quite deliberately ended up in my parents storage room. Perhaps it was there where she lost her head, or maybe she had already lost it at an earlier stage. Anyway, until that happened she was always there for me with her comforting presence, like that time when I was struck with the mumps and my own head swelled up into a huge pear-shaped creature. Likewise, she was present to with mild admonition remind me that even a hundred mosquito bites are not worth scraping, that a fever and a sore throat seldome means the arrival of the grim reaper and that chickenpox after all doesn't last forever. Venezia laughed at me only once - yes, I am sure! - and that was when my father came to tell me our family had been blessed with a little brother and I just could not accept the fact that it was true. I mean, from where could he possibly have arrived, all of a sudden?

Venezia is my saint. She stands proud with her head lying at her own feet, with her back straight and persistent in her grace, as a daily reminder that maybe it is not such a bad thing after all to lose your head every once in awhile. And I want her that way! Oh - and if You're wondering - the thing she is holdning in her arms is a dove. La Paloma. Le Pigeon. Eine Taube. It's wings are a little crumpled and it has lost it's face. Of course. But I don't mind. How could it be any other way...?


Here, some music - too beautiful really! - to go with my impious statements. On the other hand, when wondering about the story behind the lyrics of this georgian song, I happened to find following explanation: "Actually, the singer tells us that he was walking down a small river and met a pretty woman holding a pitcher on her shoulder. He said something to her and she got mad and moved aside from him. That's the whole story."

If You recognize the choir it is to be found also in "Hello earth" by Kate Bush!

Meadow/3 (delayed)

Det är inte precis den här tiden på året man normalt bloggar utomhusplantor - åtminstone inte i vårt land. Om några veckor har den första snön antagligen fallit och åtskilliga mornar redan har vägarna varit beklädda med lömsk svartis. Nåja, desto större orsak tycker jag, att återinföra lite sommar, och på samma gång fullfölja min ängsrapport.

"Jag har tillverkat en äng åt mig själv. Ansåg att jag behövde en..."

[Länk1] [Länk2]

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It's not exactly the time of year one would normally blog outdoor plants - at least not in this country. In a couple of weeks I guess we will have experienced the first snow for the season and for quite a few mornings already there have been devious layers of black ice on the roads. All the more reason I say, to bring in some summer and at the same time complete my meadow report.

"I made myself a meadow. Figured I needed one..."

[Link1] [Link2]

Coffee...? Tea...? Me...?

ehkä ensi elämässä

(Improvised translation of the lyrics can be found in the commentary field of this blogpost)

00232

[LINK/LÄNK]

"Har Leonardo sin så måste väl jag kunna ha min."

Ch

touch

(klicka på bilden för större version/click image for enlarged version)

soft pastel on dark blue paper

50 x 64 cm

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work in progress

unfolding an impact...

... [CRATER]

(klicka på bilden för större version/click image for enlarged version)
[LINK]

[LINK2]

[LÄNK]

[LÄNK2]

gnomes in the attic*

"Lingonben"

"... den lilla visan 'Lingonben' skrev jag en gång som parodi på de allra larvigaste barnvisorna. Ungar älskar den" - Povel Ramel

Bluff och Spark och Tork och Kvark
voro sex små dvärgar.
En var ful och en var glad
och en var dum i huvet.

Hej, sa Kvark till lille Tork.
Känner du igelkotten Pilt?
Han som har varit i Paris?
Ja, det gjorde Ivar.

Hör du hans lilla runda tass
när som han trippar på sitt pass:
Tripp och trapp och trypa.
Se hans lilla piga!

Tomtefar i skogens brus
sitter som ett päron.
Han har inget eget hus
allt i sin stora näsa.

Söt och blöt är sagans fé.
Trollen är bjudna hit på té.
Det lilla trollet! Pass för de!
Nu ska mormor bada.

Väva och spinna natten lång,
prinsen är här i fjorton språng!
Hopp och hipp och huppla,
hästen heter Sverker!

Stora slottet Drummeldimp
ligger bortom fjärran.
Dit får ingen komma in,
som ej kan baka struvor.

Gyllenkrull och Sockertipp,
kom, ska vi dansa häxan våt!
Vill du mig här, så har du nåt.
Sov du lilla tryne.

Kungen är full av stock och sten,
skogen är full av lingonben.
Per är full av tomtar.
Hur ska lillan orka?
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"Lingonberry legs"

"... this little song 'Lingonberry legs' I once wrote as a parody of the most silly children songs. Kids love it." - Povel Ramel

Bluff and Kick and Drier and Quark
were six small dwarfs.
One was ugly and one was happy
and one was stupid in his head.

Hi, said Quark to little Drier.
Do you know the hedgehog Lad?
He who has been to Paris?
Yes, Ivar did.

Can You hear his little round paw
when he trips along while on guard:
Trip and Trap and Tryp.
Look, his little maid!

Father gnome in the forest's noise
sitting like a pear.
He does not have a house of his own
hence, in his big nose!

Cute and wet is the fairy of the fairytale
The trolls are invited here for tea.
That little troll! Watch out for it!
Now grandmother will take a bath.

Weaving and spinning all night long;
The prince will be here in fourteen leaps!
Hop and hip and houp la!
The horse is named Sverker!

Large castle Bungling Fall
lies beyond remote.
No-one may enter,
that can not bake fritter.

Golden Curl and Sugar Top,
come, let us dance the witch wet!
Do you want me here, then you have something.
Sleep, You little snout!

The King is full of logs and stone,
the woods are full of lingonberry legs.
Peter is full of gnomes.
How will Lillan (little girl) manage?

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* we have an expression in Swedish: "tomtar på loftet" - gnomes in the attic - wich is a metaphore explaining strange things that might be going on in someone's head...

so go on and fly then

just around the corner

in his blanket

(klicka på bilden för större format / click image for enlarged version)

softpastel on paper / softpastell på papper, 53x42 cm

October 2008

Never tear us apart

Hjärtskärande romans i äppelvärlden, eller hur? Jag menar, de försöker ju verkligen!

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Heartbreaking romance in the world of apples, don't You think? I mean - they really, really try!

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Uppdatering/uppdate: Lasse

Surmjölkskaka

Som dotter till en mor som med lätthet styckar en älg med höger hand medan hon löser korsord med den vänstra kan man få ett lustigt förhållande till mat. Har man dessutom en far som varit backhoppare och en gång i tiden imponerat på sin blivande svärmor med att virka spetsar sina väl tilltagna skogshuggarhänder till trots kan man dessutom få en rätt nyanserad bild av verkligheten. När det sedan kommer till min bror behöver jag säkert inte nämna mer än att han vid ringa två års ålder satt i barnvagnen och idkade högläsning av namnen på minnesstenarna vid gravgården...

Nog om det. Det enda man egentligen behöver kunna i vår släkt är att baka surmjölkskaka. Här är därför mitt första försök någonsin att utmana min far i hans främsta tävlingsgren och tillika förklara för min man varför jag nödvändigtvis behövde en gammaldags gjutjärnspanna.

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Being the daughter of a mother who easily cuts up a moose with her right hand while she solves crossword puzzles with her left, one could easily develop an odd relation to food. To have a father who used to be a ski jumper and once upon a time impressed his future mother-in-law by crocheting lace with his lumberjackhands of fair size, can also make its contribution to a rather nuanced view on reality. Finally, when it comes to my brother, I believe it is quite enough to mention that he as a two year old sat in his carriage while reading - out loud! - the names on the monuments at the cemetary...

Enough about that. The only skill that is really required in our family is to be able to bake cakes from soured milk. Here is my first attempt ever to challenge my father in his favourite sport and at the same time explain to my husband why I necessarily needed an old-fashion iron pan.

Papp, ho vart goo, men fö kladdo! Ja sku a hadd e lengär i uun troor ja. Å så skar ja beta tå o va för varm ennu. :-)

Dad, it tastes good but it's too smeary! I should have kept it in the oven for longer I guess, and I cut it while it was still too hot. :-)

Fennoswedes

From time to time the questionmarks occure: Why does a blogger obviously living in Finland write in Swedish, or the other way around - why does a blogger writing in Swedish claim she's really a Finn, and not a Swede? Well, here are some facts about my country that often come as a surprice to people - maybe because we aren't that many and fortunate enough to be quite privileged in comparison to many other minorities. So far, that is...

Fennoswedes
Finnlandschweden
Finlandssvenskar
Suomenruotsalaisia

for now

när förtvivlan
övergår i förståelse
förlåtelse?
och det förnämsta sättet
att fortsätta
älska någon
är att upprätthålla
avståndet

Siren

Thomas Feiner & Anywhen - The Siren Songs

(Congratulations and thank's to Matha for her great taste in music!)

a small attempt to fight boredom

(click image for enlarged version/klicka på bilden för större format)

Aren't they cute? And ugly? And silly? And strange? And angry? And funny? However, best of all: the cartoonist Rune Andréasson seems to have kept up the Carta Marina-tradition in drawing maps!

... or am I the only one to see the similarities?

Please, help Bamse and Little Hop find their way back to the ship by following the NICE and HAPPY fishes. (You can go diagonally aswell)

Since when

(click image for enlarged version/klicka på bilden för större format)

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... did the Nordic area become so dull and boring? This is how it looked in 1539, according to Carta Marina. Tell me, where did all the seamonsters and funny fishes go? And how come the right foot of mother Finnland has gotten so small since then?

"In Carta Marina there appears to have been a shift in projection, so that areas with good connections have been placed relatively close to one another".

Yes! That's the way to draw a map! Connections and relations before distance - I like that thought. I like it a lot.

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Sedan när har Norden blivit så trist och tråkigt? Så här såg det ut år 1539, enligt Carta Marina. Säg mig, vart har alla sjöodjur och skojiga fiskar försvunnit? Och varför har moder Finlands högra fot blivit så liten sedan dess?

"På Carta Marina verkar projektionen ha förskjutits så att områden med goda förbindelser har placerats relativt nära varandra".

Ja! Så ska en karta ritas! Förbindelser och relationer framför avstånd - jag gillar den tanken. Jag gillar den mycket.