or overgrowth?
lördag 17 december 2011
onsdag 7 december 2011
fredag 2 december 2011
tisdag 29 november 2011
from a cut
soft as a feather
against my cheek
the sudden notion
of the obvious
to the eye
to the mind
- but not yet to the heart
from a cut
so sharp
so deep
so unwilling to heal
flowers start to grow
onsdag 23 november 2011
la catedral
Four out of five early mornings I was there, lighting candles for everyone of us and since I didn't really know how many we were I picked the number of seven. I didn't see what was coming, only what had been, but the wounded savior still hanging on the cross was calling for me to pray: for You and the Yours and myself and mine. So I did, and so I do. I just don't know anymore - who to?
fragile
Fragile (Sting)
If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our minds will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
How fragile we are
måndag 21 november 2011
love and light
"Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished." ~ Michael Strassfeld
to bare the flare
I'm hopeless with jewellery. I fall in love with its' beauty, buy it, but almost never wear it. I'm like a tall, dark christmas tree - knowing it could brighten up the town square if it made an effort - but still standing quietly in the forrest because it just can't bare the itch of being illuminated or overly decorated. What is a tree supposed to do about its' nature? A picea abies does not burst into flowers like a rhododendron over night - if ever.
tisdag 8 november 2011
måndag 31 oktober 2011
about a grandfather...
About a grandfather who died far too young,but disappeared into himself even earlier than that.
About a good man, a loving person, a sharp mind,
but with a serious weakness.
About my father and his brothers,
who remember a before and after,
- the illness and addiction -
but still loved him through it all.
About why I'm not that fond of intoxicants.
måndag 24 oktober 2011
tisdag 4 oktober 2011
måndag 26 september 2011
baptism
(klicka på bilden för större format)Baptisternas dopförrättning i Esse å 1939
- min mormor var med.
söndag 25 september 2011
some photographs ...
... never make their way into the family album. My mother, age 3, at the photographers studio.
måndag 19 september 2011
söndag 11 september 2011
torsdag 8 september 2011
misleading marketing?
"GRAUBÜNDEN: BITTE PROBIEREN."
"Dear Annika, here You find my selfportrait from the holiday in Switzerland. Best greetings and hugs, X."
Thank You! I had such a laugh! :-)
onsdag 7 september 2011
måndag 5 september 2011
fredag 2 september 2011
facing life and death - with only one eye
For as long as I knew her, she had only one eye. This never really bothered me because I had never seen her with her pair of eyes intact. The porcelaine marble placed where her other eye had once been sometimes confused my friends though, when we were kids. It never looked in the same direction as her real eye, and not even the colour matched. Some people found it a bit frightening.
I'm talking about my grandma. - and her constant dilemma.
I remember very well the first time I ever saw her take the ocular prosthesis out to clean it. I was eight or nine years old and stayed at my grandparents house by the lake over night. The incident was unintentional, I just happened to sneak by the bedroom, but this was very disturbing to my grandmother. In reality, I saw almost nothing, except that her eyelid for once fell down, to shut the hole where "the strange marble" normally was situated. Usually the prosthesis was always visible, also when she was asleep - because she couldn't blink.
Of course we looked her in the healthy eye when we talked to her. Everybody who knew her did.
My grandma lost her eye when she was thirtyseven, in an accident that sounds almost too cliché to be true. Unfortunately it was all very real. She was stabbed in the eye by a raging cow, it destroyed the entire eye globe, aswell as some of the tissue surrounding it. She was in other words seriously injured and almost died from a clostridium tetani infection. In the midst of it all my mother, who was then twelve years old prayed to God, begging him not to take her mother away from her. "God then promised me that my mother would stay with me for many, many years to come."
Grandma never liked to be photographed. It was always the same - christmas, birthdays, anniversaries of any kind - she would shun away from the camera. In my grandparents home there was only one photo on which she appeared: the wedding photo of her and grandpa. In that picture they were both looking down, slightly to the side, not really revealing much of their faces. I think she prefered this photo, to not be so strongly reminded of how she once used to look.
My grandmother was not vain. She didn't like jewellery and for the longest time I thought it was because my grandparents lived a simple life as farmers, far out on the countryside. I thought she didn't care, until I one day during my teenage years wanted her to try a nice necklace on and she abruptly emphasized, in a way that was untypical for her: "Oh, what good would it do?! It's wasted on me, I have only one eye!"
I loved my grandmother. We were close friends, not just related. She was smart, honest and kind. She cared for everybody and prayed for everyone she met. Anyone who really knew her would agree she saw things and situations more clearly with her only eye than most people do with both. She believed in God, trusted in his his word and looked forward to meet her savior face to face one day.
I sat with her at the hospital when she ended her days on earth. God kept his promise to the twelve year old praying girl and let us all keep our dear grandma until she almost turned 90. She was then tiny, tiny, tiny... and when her kidneys and lungs collapsed there was nothing more to do.
Some hours before she went into unconciousness she was no longer able to speak, but she was looking at a simple neckless made from plastic pearls I happened to wear that day. With her hands shaking she smiled a little and reached to touch it. "It looks a bit homemade, don't You think?" I asked her. "Do You want to borrow it, grandma?" She silently nodded and I gave it to her. "... because You're soon going to the great big party in heaven, You know? Where You will see Your loved ones that have gone before You...
... and there You will have Your other eye back. I know. And You know.
Of course You need a neckless, grandma."
She deeply sighed and nodded her head once more. She was content.
The night after she gave up breathing. She just silently let go of her old body, but I immediately had this feeling she was everywhere, all around me, rather than gone. I still have.
Last weekend, going through some old photos and documents of hers, I found these. One photo of her as a teenager together with her older sister and her bridal portrait. I was incredible happy to find these photos as I feel they portray her, and her being, as I always experienced her - despite the obvious.
Bright and alert.
Funny and smart.
Loving and kind.
Beautiful... and complete.
måndag 29 augusti 2011
fake fight in the fifties
The little girl just showing half of herself (to the left) in this picture is my mother. Oh, she didn't like this situation, being very shy and all after having been brought up by the lake in the midst of the forest...
The two women engaging in a fake game of wrestling in the middle of the village, laughing out loud meanwhile, to the big disgrace of my mother... are my grandma Agnes and her cousin Svea.
"Oh no... isn't this just typical!" my mother deeply sighed when confronted with this photo last weekend. "They were always like that when they met. They could NEVER behave when together, the two of them. Never!"
Personally?
I love this photo.
söndag 21 augusti 2011
beloved grandmother
Vår älskade mormor och gammelmormor Agnes Backa somnade in tidigt denna söndagsmorgon, till stilla ro och med ett leende på läpparna. Vi har älskat henne mycket och hon har alltid älskat oss.
Det Gud har välsignat är välsignat evinnerligen.
..................................................................................................
Our beloved grandmother Agnes Backa passed away early this sunday morning, to eternal peace and with a smile on her lips. We have loved her dearly and she has always loved us.
What the Lord has blessed, it shall be blessed forever.
måndag 15 augusti 2011
the map is not the territory
First day at work after summer's vacation. I'm a bit confused and desillusioned. Don't get me wrong, I like my job and love my colleagues, but... Where did the summer go? So quickly?
I return to my appartment and there, lying on the mat in the hallway, I find... an envelope containing Darren's ArtZine!
"This is not a guinea pig! It's a drawing! The map is not the territory! You are not here! ---> [x]"
... and like pure magic everything feels possible. Just like that. I can be anywhere. And anyone. Like myself. :-)
onsdag 10 augusti 2011
Konstens Natt 2011
Painting made by Caroline Hall
Välkomna till Resurscentret Föregångarna på Konstens Natt torsdag 11.8 2011 och kolla in vad som är på gång! NATURLIGTVIS står vi även detta år för ett digert utbud av konst, sy- och träslöjd, knep och knåp, live musik mm. Nytt för i år är en drop-in workshop i pastellmålning med konstnär Annika Östman. SJÄLVKLART firar vi med kaffe, saft och våra legendariska mockarutor - denna gång ekologiska sådana!
Besöksadress: Resurscentret Föregångarna, Handelsesplanaden 12 B 15 (Harmanshuset vån 4), 65100 Vasa, Finland
tisdag 9 augusti 2011
söndag 7 augusti 2011
lördag 6 augusti 2011
tisdag 2 augusti 2011
söndag 31 juli 2011
real life gingerbread house
Today I visited my very dear sister in spirit living in Kokkola, Ostrobothnia of Finland, and couldn't resist shooting some photos with my cellphone camera (hence the poor quality to some of the pictures, I apologize). Ever since I first saw this tremendous house her husband has planned and built with his own hands, I've claimed it to be the number one gingerbread house of the region, as if it had been picked straight out of the fairytale about Hansel and Gretel. With one exception: the "witch" of this house happens to be a stunning blonde...
... well, of course there has to be cookies and sweets like in the fairytale...
My son tries the old piano out...
A fair size oven...
Let's take a look into the garden to see if we can find the cage of Hansel and Gretel...
A fair amount of the most lovely roses and other flowers aswell...
... and the "lady of the mansion" (she does not look one bit frightening does she, but I guess we can not be careful enough?)...
Oh! This must be it!
...hmmmmm... no...
... the methods of modern witches seems to be somewhat different...
We leave the gingerbreadhouse stuffed with goodies but not at all threatened. I will make sure to bring my Nikon next time, but thanks for the sneakpeek, L and D!