Come in New Year!

How was your year, dear friends? Are you happy to kick it off in the butt or you will get melancholic at the change tonight?

Whatever the answer - Happy New Year! And thanks to Wojtek for a lovely surprise call this morning, I keep fingers crossed for all of your exciting plans so that they work out in 2009!

Goodbye to Christmas!

All's eaten, time to strip off our Christmas tree:

A siege of The Castle

Another freezing morning in Edinburgh it was!

We wrapped really well and ventured outside to visit the most prominent tourist attraction of the city which is the Castle, of course. Wherever in the city you are, sooner or later th castle is going to emerge to tower on the horizon again.

Situated at the top of the core of an extinct volcano, it's layers are literally cut out in a solid rock - one has to mount quite a bit to get to the very top of the fortress (escaladed only once in 1313 by Randolph, Earl of Moray. It is a very specific siege term, like most of the terms deriving from French, but it just simply means that Randolph used ladders to get over the Castle's walls).

Today it was full of people, first gathered in front of the ticket office (Helas, this time we were not smart and did not book on line so we had to queue at least 30 minutes in the freezing cold) and then in every possible stage of the visit - around Monster Meg - a giant cannon, in the museum's cafe (though it was freezing we had to give up a cup of hot tea as there was simply no space to squeeze ourselves in the room) and especially in a tiny Margaret's Chapel. This good queen did a lot to introduce some civilization in Scotland during Dark Ages, however if one dares to venture out on a Saturday night in Edinburgh, it quickly becomes clear that she have missed a lot in her work.

The most interesting to me were of course the royal appartments with a room where Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to her only son James I of England.

In his Child's History of England Charles Dickens describes James I as unning, covetous, wasteful, idle,drunken, geedy, dirty, cowardly, a great searer, and the most conceited man on earth. In An Uttelry Impartial History of Britain John O'Farrell adds that Jame's parents have been cousins and it showed. His tongue was too big for his mouth, with the charming result that he slobbered when he spoke, a habit not helped by him being halfpissed most of the time.

Nowadays he would be sitting in front row for Marc Jacobs but at the time, being gay on top of all that did not help his reputation amongst historians. His wife, queen Anne of Denmark eventually agreed to live apart exchanged for a handsome sweetheart - the Duke of Buckingham.

The Camera Obscura

Luckily the weather still keeps up so we are visiting and visiting and then doing some more of visiting...

Yesterday we had a pleasant hour at the site of Camera Obscura with its fascinating views of the city and the whole bunch of little gems of illusion like this cut out site of the exhibition in Victorian London.

It actually reminded me a lot of one my end of term work in ESAG, which was supposed to capture an idea of the internet (whoever wants to copy - bugger off, this idea is mine! Think of something else for youself!) - pity I did not know it at that time as I would know better how to prepare the whole construction and joining of the screens.

Luckily one is allowed to take pictures (except the room of the camera obscura itself so as not to disturb other visitors) or I might have burst otherwise, surrounded with so many fascinating visual ideas, so useful for my research project for the college.

Poor Mary

The first stop of our route today was the Hollyrood Palace (with some more Italian baroque art exhibition), which to my surprise is nowadays situated within the city just next to the buildings of the Scottish Parialment and Dynamic Earth, both a mere 25 minutes walk downhill from where we live.

Since reading Antonia Fraser's biography of the Queen of Scots and then watching one of my favourite actresses Samantha Morton playing the queen in Elisabeth: The Golden Age by Shekhar Kapur I was really keen to see Queen's private chambers in the Palace. I guess I might get qualified as some kind of a stalking fan as I was gasping with excitment at seeing every bit of her personal belongings (a pomander, some strawberry red hair, a cat and a mouse embroidered by the Queen's hand with an awkward writing a catte on it), infamous little chamber from where Rizzio was dragged out and stabbed 56 times in the presence of a heavily praegnant Queen - it were actually just two little rooms in the whole of the palace but they made me start reading 758 pages of Fraser's book with great pleasure all over again!

Do not buy the Titians!

After yestarday's shopping bonanza, my mum and I (as Simon was still treating his cold with a prolonged stay in bed) decided to venture into more cultural environment aka National Galleries of Scotland to see their collection (pas mal indeed). It was a feezing but sunny day and spending couple of hours in warm rooms of the exposition , strolling from Velazquez to Rembrandt, back to Hals and off to Boticelli again was indeed a very pleasant way of spending a Saturday early afternoon.
Until we reached these infamous Tits...ups, pomylka Freudowska, Titians.
Maybe it was the fact that both images were recently renovated, maybe it was the fact they were painted for Philip II of Spain, a character I have never liked or maybe it was just their palin, blant, overpopulated look of custardy flesh and not brilliantly executed piles of bodies.
We gasped in horror - so many millions of quids for something so mediocre? Please do buy something worth all that money instead this expensive junk, just because it has that label attached to it!
P.S. I cannot help but wonder, as Carrie Bradhaw would put it nicely, how surprisingly National Galleries do not differ much from Harvey Nicks - in both places one can see overpriced junk, coveted just because it is signed with a particular name.
Coming back to Rembrandt again was such a relief and meeting Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch - a pure joy!

(reproduction of painting by Sir Henry Raeburn from NGS website)

http://www.nationalgalleries.org/aboutus/project/1:167/5903

Sale time!

A budget is just a method of worrying before you spend money, as well as afterward.

So my whole plan of not spending too much this winter went through the window when my mum and I reached Harvey Nichols this morning (well, about 11 am so the shop was already opened for an hour but and actually found some beautiful items at quite affordable prices! These items were no longer available 10 minutes later - all Marc's t-shirts were gone in a flash and I ended up dodging a woman who was desperately trying to seize a jacket that I picked up from the Prada's heap (at -70%).

Edinburgh's Golden Youth came to town from their parent's estates and gathered in front of Jack Willis in a massive sale queue which you can see in the image I took walking down George Street:

Merry Christmas my friends!

We were a little bit late with sending Christmas cards this year, so late that when Simon finally ventured to the post office yesterday to send his ones (he very kindly posted mines a day before) he was asked by the clerk if these were by any chance his Easter ones. Should take a note and send the Easter ones next week indeed instead of our usual two days after the important date or not at all (as we are so embarassed with being late with greetings).

So there is no chance, my friends, that you will get your greetings on time so that is why I decided to call some of you today. Hopefully when you are back from your families you will find our greetings in postboxes as we have included a magic sentence for a Happy New Year too! However, knowing how the post office works here some of you might never receive your cards. Do not let you worry too much about this, my friends, have some Polish barszcz z uszkami with us as there is going to be another Merry Christmas in a Happy New Year!

Alternative Christmas tree

My mum is coming tomorrow and otherwise I whould not have bothered with buying anything christmassy, green and alive as I am a top, superefficient plant killer but decided to make an exception. Here it is - Merry Christmas my friends, greeting cards are on their way!

It will only get better from now on

Days are supposed to be longer now and we are going to get a bit more light as I have started to look worse for wear recently. We were not saving on heating this winter (I am too scared to look at the gas bill!) but I have managed to stay away of any colds and bugs running on lots of organic food and echinacea but my skin is dry as a leather of a shoe that Muntazer al-Zaidi threw at George Bush last week.

I have also finally managed to get through ranks of overexcited children to take a few images of sleepy reindeers at the Princess Street Gardens today. I had an impression that the animals were a tad bit bigger than what I have remembered from a visit in Rovaniemi many years ago. They had exactly the same face expression that is meeting me in the bathroom mirror every morning this winter.

After an usual nice soup at Wellingotn Cafe we bravely went for a quick but extremely effective Christmas pressies shopping (6 gifts bought within an hour for a very reasonalbe sum so we can call it a battle almost won as there are still 6 to go) in John Lewis and then for a coffee at the top of Harvey Nichs (which had Marc Jacobs ready-to-wear reduced by 50% girlfriends! Zomgzomgzomg why have I left my card at home, will have to run there tomorrow - no way I will manage to survive until the Boxing Day sale!). We were sitting with our coffees surrounded by extremely well groomed ladies sipping mostly roses (British ladies seem to drink wine without having any food with it, I would be tipsy within 3 minutes from the first gulp!) wondering why this place looks so familiar.

Monika would not approve of their interior lighting design - some tables were plunged in a semidarkness (very disturbing if you are having mussels), some were directly under a yellowish glow of the tiny ceiling lamps. Some tables had to be lit with a glow from a city panorama of the front glass wall or by a glow from the eyes of Hindu waiters. Then Simon leaned forward and whispered that just remembered where he knows an atmosphere of this interior from - it all strongly remined him of a department store in mid 90ties Slovakia.

Could not agree more. Just in case I have decided to take a touristy picture of the city panorama in the night (it was actually 5 pm) and skip the interior. Monika, you will have to come and have a look for yourself, coffee is on me.

Noisy neighbours

That is us, as we have learned after a visit of a neighbour from downstairs.

I have never been so nastily surprised in my life - how come? Us, hardworking folks, not listening to music loudly (and if so, it is Radio Classic so no bass and drums unless Beethoven is considered as heavy), not having any parties (at home), walking only in soft slippers and we are still noisy by some people standards?

I was standing in the dorway, trying to be as polite as possible even if the guy had the same kind of painful facial expression and type of glasses that one of assistants at the Fine Art Academy had - ones that make ones eyes huge like eyes of a fly - I dread of any people who wear these kind of glasses, it is a feeling stronger than me. Maybe because this guy's teaching methods were sucking out life of any creative student - I have met him once, many years later in a street in Krakow and a vague of something awful, sickening and tiring came through me like a flash, but I could not put it why I have reacted this way to seeing this particular person (I could not quite put him in my memory, who he was - not a Dementor from a Harry Potter's adventures, I just knew that the face was familiar somehow). Until Agata mentioned the guy in a conversation and it all became clear all of a sudden.

So here we were, him painfully saing that our floor is squeaking and he cannot put up with that anymore (so we should tiptoe for the rest of our stay or learn how to fly I presume, I thought but decided to shut up) and that the flat was empty for such a long (and presumably blissfull for him but not to the landlord) time and that he is so sensitive to noise (what noise?!) and what he is supposed to do (him? put some cotton buds in his ears, that's what) . Oh dear, I said, it must be that particular board in the floor which keeps squeaking, I will mark it so we will not step on it anymore (aha, this idea must work especially well in the darkness or when one tries very hard not to step on it), I apologised once more and closed the door, devastated.

We are bad, noisy neighbours. An we will have to live with the whole of our wooden floor marked like this:

Santa without a beard

Christmas is arriving in Scotland in fast steps. A hotel in George Street started to spread artificial snow around it's entrance. Unfortunately snow flakes turned out to be soap flakes and in a drizzle everything turned into a grey foam. So not exactly an idea of white Christmas the menagement had in mind to lure customers...

The drizzle sims to accompany us almost everyday at this time of the year. I have seen the snow once so far. For an hour to be precise. Still, in this awful weather we have managed to get some nice Christmas prezzies (I will not show ones for the rest of the family as they might be popping in here to have a look from time to time!).

Simon's part (endless winter nights of spaghetti westerns await us + some serious shooting gloves we got for his approaching photo trip to Lvov):

And what I got for myself (btw - a message for Wojtek > please give back my SATC and Ma femme est une actrice, pretty please! I have not seen them for so long that they might be as well my Christmas presents this year, Darling).

Fast downturn

Things are definitely going too fast for me in the world. We are inundated with images and some of these images show girls already advertising swimming suits for summer holidays. Hey, there has not been Christmas yet! Why do I have to read January issue of a magazine while we are still in December?
We had such a nice, wind down weekend at Haddington again, watching Harry Potter adventures and decorating two christmas trees. Good food, great company, bliss.
Tomorrow more bussiness meetings are waiting for us.

Samsung scores 10 brownie points

My computer's monitor was misbehaving for several weeks (see, I am Zen after all - survived several weeks working with monitor which was taking up to 25 minutes to start up at all! 25 five minutes of everyday fiddling so that it finaly would stop blinking and light normally.) I finally decided to do something about that. Aka I grabbed Simon's desktop computer monitor for myself...

Unfortunately I knew I will not be allowed to go on like this for long but I was affraid that without any guarantee documents (armed with an obligatory stamp, bien sur) I would not be able to do much as I was absolutely sure that the guarantee expired months ago anyway and I am left with an expensive and broken piece of equipment. However after asking uncle Google the reply was that Samsung monitors have 3 years guarantee and further research at the Samsung helpline showed that actually I am still entitled to use it! Even without papers!

In reply to our enquiries we received a very polite call from Samsung that a courrier is going to pick up my monitor (and I was sure I will never see it again!). Just imagine my surprise when the gasping for breath courrier, actually turned up 2 days later on our 3rd floor with a box which included a brand new Samsung monitor!He grabbed the old, broken one, we signed delivery papers and that was it.

Wow, what an impressive customer policy!

.......................................................

Przyznaje, nie dzialam za szybko w takich przypadkach - to chyba musi byc uraz z pierwszej pracy do jakichkolwiek kontaktow telefonicznych, ale juz dluzej sie nie dalo.

Moj sliczny, drogi monitor Samsunga, ktory dostalam (czesciowo) w prezencie, zaniemogl i codziennie wymagal okolo 25 pracowitych minut ciaglego wlaczania i wylaczania, zeby sie wreszcie wlasciwie zaswiecic.

Oczywiscie dokumenty gwarancyjne zaginely gdzies w ferworze przeprowadzki, chociaz zaloze sie, ze stalo sie to duzo wczesniej. Z reszta moge sie jeszcze dodatkowo zalozyc o to, ze i tak nie podbilam karty gwarancyjnej...

Na szczescie niezastapiony Simon wzial sprawy (a raczej telefon) w swoje rece i po wygooglaniu informacji, ze monitory Samsunga maja 3 lata gwarancji zadzwonil na infolinie firmy po dalsze informacje. Okazalo sie, ze zadne pieczatki i papierki nie sa potrzebne, spisano tylko numer seryjny i po 2 dniach dostalismy tlefon, ze nowy monitor bedzie dostarczony przez kuriera a stary zabrany.

Dzisiaj po poludniu, zasapany pan kurier doczlapal na nasze 3 pietro i dostarczyl nowiutki monitor Samsunga. Wiec dzisiejszy post mial byc zupelnie o czym innym a tak wyszla tyrada na czesc serwisu konsumenckiego firmy Samsung!

I will never be famous...

... I don't do anything, not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don't even do that any more.
• Four be the things I'd have been better without: love, curiosity, freckles and doubt.

• A girl's best friend is her mutter.

• Take care of luxuries and the necessities will take care of themselves.

• Salary is no object; I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.

• Money cannot buy health, but I'd settle for a diamond-studded wheelchair.

• The two most beautiful words in the English language are 'cheque enclosed.'

• If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

• The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.

• This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it
• It serves me right for keeping all my eggs in one bastard.
• I went to convent in New York and was fired finally for my insistence that the Immaculate Conception was spontaneous combustion
• Ducking for apples - change one letter and it's the story of my life.
• It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes.
• I'd like to have money. And I'd like to be a good writer. These two can come together, and I hope they will, but if that's too adorable, I'd rather have money.
• Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
list of quotes by Dorothy Parker

My first ever bookcover commission was for Parker's shortstories. I just knew she lived in New York, was witty, intelligent, glamourous and talented. And that she commited suicide.That was it and then I came up with the image.
P.S. This post is dedicated to Nuala who reminded me about Parker's wit again. And that men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses. Do contact lenses count?

Bluebeard's junk secrets

Simon protested over my musing in the yesterday post about being an easygoing and optimistic person ."Is there a three letter word opposit of 'zen'?" he asked me after reading the entry.

Ania persuaded me to post some images of our flat and as the weather permitted I took some pictures this morning. A sunny morning for a change - one cannot see the screen anymore!

Also I think I know now why Bluebeard had this little locked room in his castle. He was not keeping there all of his ex slaughtered wifes. He was keeping there all his... JUNK!

I was trying to keep our interior minimal and clear but my boyfriend's passion for piling things made it impossible. So here it comes: a set of images of our cave. Minus the Bluebeard's chamber of secret aka the cupboard next to the entrance.

P.S. I know I am sitting on Ikea's bathroom container but we still have not managed to bring these Bauhaus-like chairs we got as a gift from Venessa's office.

Things that annoy me

I generally try to be rather a zen, optymistic and easy going person but there are things that are sending me through the roof.

I went to the North Bridghe paper shop today to get the cardboard for my maquettes (a college shop is closed until the 5th of January, how handy). They had it (surprise surprise! it was a third shop I have visited in my new heels just to get a piece of cardboard) but unlike the college shop, only in massive, vast sheets. As from the North Bridge I was planning to continue over the bridge to The St James Center to lurk around John Lewis' cooking accessories department I was not very willing to carry such a sail with me. Not to mention that this cardboard + today's wind would send me flying over the Weaverly Station in a blink as north part of it is supposedly the windiest place in Britain.

The shop assistant refused to cut it in half.

I was gobsmacked but at this stage I tried the joke with me flying over the roofs of The New Town.

He said NO.

I asked why, trying to lick a white foam forming on my mouth.

The HEALTH AND SAFETY REGULATIONS replied he.

So I paid my 85 p for the board and bent it in half in front of his very eyes on saying that I have never heard anything more stupid in my whole life.

Another thing that devastates me every morning as I look at it and try to use it is situated in our bathroom.

When I asked Simon why do British people did such a crazy thing to their taps he replied that doing it like the rest of Europe would be dangerously FRENCH.

Gloomy Auld Reekie

Since couple of days the Sun has not even ventured out from behind a thick layer of clouds.
You wake up when it is darkish and you hope that it is going to improve when the day establishes (and with a cup of tea) but no, it does not and then it is just getting darker and darker until a night falls.
We are approximately at the same lattitude as Norway but the gulf stream makes all the difference so when they have snow up to their knees in April we here have +5 degrees all year round.

You wake up and shuffle to the bathroom to have a shower but our one is not at all invigorating: we nicknamed it "sikutek" ("piddle") so if I had Rapuntzel hair it would take me good couple of hours to rinse the shampoo out.
Then is the soup - why on Earth they have to add milk and sugar to perfeclty all right carrot soups? I can understand it added to a black tea (though it still took me years to get used to it) but to a perfectly all right vegetable stock?
Anyway, I am going to have one because since we are heading to Haddington for the weekend (and to do some organic shopping there) our fridge is cold, empty (except that half of it is filled with films) and uninviting all but for this one container promising some tasty time.

















Pogoda tutaj zdecydowanie nie ulatwia zycia.
Od kilku dni slonce nawet nie pokazalo sie na niebie, pokrytym gruba warstwa chmurnej piany, niczym starbucksowskie latte. Kiedy wstaje jest ciemnawo, ale licze na to, ze sytuacja ulegnie zmianie na lepsze w ciagu dnia - nic z tego. Moze zrobic sie juz tylko ciemniej.
Nawet prysznic nie daje rady mnie orzezwic - nadalismy mu ksywe "sikutek" bo tez taki strumien (glownie) wrzatku z siebie wypuszcza. Na szczescie nie mam warkoczy bajkowej ksiazniczki, bo wtedy rzeczywiscie nie pozostawaloby mi nic innego tylko splukiwac godzinami na wiezy wlosy pod tym ciurkajacym strumyczkiem.
Na szczescie herbata jest lepsza tylko nie mige zrozumiec dlaczego i wszystkie zupy maja dodany cukier i mleko?
Mala probka zimowej atmosfery w materiale zdjeciowym ^.
Potrzebuje jeszcze jednego cieplego swetra.

Landscape special

Since I am spending so much time doing my work, some people were inquiring what I am currently working on, since my firts term of postgraduate studies officially finishes tomorrow.

I am doing a weird landscape project, my dears. I am trying to create disillusioned Scottish landscape. Here is a sample from the latest shoot and finally the whole thing goes in the area I wanted it to direct: something that looks badly stitched in PS but what actually is fully crafted by photographer's hand, no CDI involved at all. I am even considering use of a large format camera (which so far I was restricting just for a studio use but in this context it might help to have the whole process fully handmade).

The weather does not make it any easier - my assistant and I nearly froze to death near Hollyrood Palace gardens!

.....................................................................

Poniewaz od kilku tygodni nic innego nie robie, tylko pracuje, postanowilam pokazac nad czym ze to.

Projekt dotyczy pejzazu (a jakze , przeciez jestem w Szkocji) i zabawy efektami iluzji optycznej: to co wydaje sie zle skrojonym montazem fotoszopowym, w rzeczywistosci jest po prostu odpowiednio oswietlona makieta budynku. Po kilku sesjach widze, ze wreszcie wszystko zaczyna isc wizualnie w wypracowana przeze mnie strone.

Szkoda tylko, ze pogoda na prawde nie ulatwia spracy: prawie zamarzlismy z moim asystentem na zboczu tego wzgorza (uwaga! to samo centrum Edynburga) o 4 po poludniu...

Śnieg, snow, la neige

I have officially encoutered a first day of snow in Edinburgh today. It really makes you think about Christmas.
My Mum will be staying with us for almost two weeks and I am planning to do some serious tourist sightseeing with her. Especially since I am seriously armed with a Wardlock & Co illustrated guide (reedited after almost 50 years) and absolutely brilliant invention which is The Edinburgh Literary Companion by Andrew Lownie. (I have been using a Paris version by Ian Littlewood when living for a while in the French capital. It was most revealing about the history of places and numerous famous people connected with them. It is hopefully still in safe hands of Kasia's bookshelves...).


I took a picture on North Bridge (the literary companion mentiones that Stevenson watched the departing trains from here and Ian Rankin's Set in Darkness misterious death scene is also set in this street).
They have put a brass plate in the pavement on the spot you are supposed to stand to take the best picture of the city panorama.
Most ingenious!

At war with the obvious

^ Photo by W.Eggleston

Last week was full of work revelations.

First we managed to score couple of work interviews, second out tutor invited MFA students to a screening of Michael Almereyda's documentary film on one of my favourite photographers: "William Eggleston In The Real World".

His first major, breakthrough exhibition came from MoMA's famous curator John Szarkowski invitation when Eggleston was 37 years old (so I still have some time to conquer NY then hihi) and which became the most hated exhibition of the year. Still Szakowski wrote in his essay about Eggleston's work that "world contains now more pictures than bricks and they are all astonishingly different".

What I really like about Eggleston is that he is interested in a nature of perception - he just likes taking pictures or making music (with his awful electric piano) or drawings but does not have any emotional response to any of these activities. Therefore he is completely useless when confronted with talking about his work - people who are expecting him to give an indepth explanations are going to be seriously disappointed but the whole attempt at trying to drag out some form of a comment from the artist are in the end most comical in the whole documentary.

I also liked the fact that Eggleston still uses a very oldfashioned westontype lightmeter and is not affraid to be filmed when completely drunk in his stripy underpants.

P.S. Fragments of the film are available at youtube as well as Eggleston video work, which make Andy Warhol look like a kid in comparison.