tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80593465309854385262024-03-14T05:59:56.632+00:00Remembering in LondonMarta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-48350011223417714702020-04-11T15:26:00.000+01:002020-04-19T14:41:34.173+01:00UCHRONIA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QieQ4hMYn1M/XpHSskyleRI/AAAAAAAADhs/ubOEUrON8KsCuvuaWUc0oece2Q3INIC8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Night.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QieQ4hMYn1M/XpHSskyleRI/AAAAAAAADhs/ubOEUrON8KsCuvuaWUc0oece2Q3INIC8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Night.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A uchronia is a fictional time period, an alternative to the past like the one presented by Kazuo Isiguro in <i>Never Let Me Go</i> or Robert Harris in <i>Dominion</i>. It’s a genre that has always fascinated me: imagining a completely new and outlandish set of events in a timeline already lived makes my head spin. It’s exactly what you feel when you have been standing on your head and go back to your natural position without any sort of transition.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I like playing with time. One of my favourite pastimes on my way to school is observing the people as if I were a time traveller from twenty-five years ago. I imagine how I would describe the idiosyncrasies of this twenty-first century people, so different from the ones imagined in the science fiction movies of my childhood.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My general conclusion about this future people is that progress has turned them into a bunch of morons. Looking at a box as you walk down the street or even cross the road doesn’t strike me as very smart. Arriving at my school and seeing that people are still glued at the little boxes instead of having a conversation confirms that there is something really wrong with us.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The fantasy stops here, at the moment when I have to start my classes. But I often think about the first time we bought a mobile phone, not because we were fascinated by new technologies, but because Lorenzo wanted to stay in contact with his family lawyer while he was travelling as a sales rep. At the time, he had a card that allowed him to call from any phone box without cash, having the call directly charged to his phone bill. That was a sign of progress that lasted just for a couple of years, until the use of mobile phone became almost universal. I also remember that we had a triple phone call that connected Lorenzo in Malaga, me in Jaen and Carla in Berlin in spring 1997. I guess it cost us an arm and a leg.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We have developed a routine during these last few weeks of confinement. After breakfast Lorenzo reads me an article from his smartphone. I always joke that he’s my window to the wall. Today he has chosen a thought-provoking one: “An Analog Ucronia: What the coronavirus crisis would have been like without Internet” (“Una ucronía analógica: así habría sido la crisis del coronavirus sin Internet”) by Jaime García Cantero. It explains the differences between today’s society and the one in 1994, how the spread of the pandemic would have been much slower and how we would have coped in a world were the use of Internet was limited to the scientific and academic environment.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Would have our personal lives been different if we’d had access to all these technological resources? It’s an interesting thought.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ll finish with another memory. Autumn 1991. I’m visiting a friend who tele-works as a translator for a software company based in Dublin. He lives in a small apartment he inherited from his grandfather and spends the days in his pyjamas. He shows me a project he has been working on: the translation of a new programme called Word. It’s in colour and instead of having to press the F keys to ask the computer to perform the different functions, it has a bar where you can open drop down menus where you can choose the different tasks.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I leave his apartment I realise that I have learned two things. The first is that I have seen a glimpse of the future, as this new software will certainly change the use of computers forever; the second is that I’ll never ever work from home. I was right about the first one.</span></span><br />
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-83775006700988662532016-11-04T22:00:00.000+00:002016-11-06T21:08:46.302+00:00SERGIO LAIGNELET AND THE KULESHOV EFFECT<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuHOGGF5lJw/WBvANqt9wMI/AAAAAAAACm0/sUFjh8UTZf0Cm8rjWwxuE5XOrAg20B5uwCK4B/s1600/LH03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="449" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuHOGGF5lJw/WBvANqt9wMI/AAAAAAAACm0/sUFjh8UTZf0Cm8rjWwxuE5XOrAg20B5uwCK4B/s640/LH03.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet as the Big Bad Wolf</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>“The three little
pigs</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>walk
back home <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>in their shorts”</i></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Master's words</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In 1964 Fletcher Markle interviewed Alfred Hitchcock for the CBS. In
this interview the great master explains the Kuleshov effect: how to create
suspense just by juxtaposing images. He makes us imagine a middle-aged man in
close-up. He’s looking at something. Now the camera shows a mother playing with
her child in the park. Back to the man, we can see his reaction to what he’s
seeing: he’s smiling like a kindly man. Then Hitchcock suggests that we
substitute the mother and the child for a young girl in a bikini. What do we
perceive in the man’s smile now? The grin of a pervert. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Birds</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">The Dutch artist Erwin Olaf invites us to peep into two keyholes. In
the first one we can see a man in his forties with a little boy on his knees.
He caresses his hair while he reads him a story. The scene is unsettling,
probably because of the rough quality of the man’s bony hands, which contrast
with the infant’s skin. If we look into the second keyhole, we’ll see the same
boy sitting on a matronly woman’s lap. She’s doing exactly the same, but her
gestures exude warmth and cosiness.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">The Colombian poet Sergio Laignelet disturbs us with his “Tales without
Fairies”, a collection of poems in which he twists the comforting world of our
childhood bedtime stories. In just a few verses, with an amazing economy of
words, he manages to awaken our most terrifying nightmares. Sergio starts with the
seed of a story in his head. The writing process will be long and agonizing. There
will be innumerable versions he’ll submit to the critical eye of his partner
Fernanda, witness of the evolution of a long story that finally simmers down to
a few words with the effect of a punch in the stomach.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kpvITzoldho/WBvBXx4jCSI/AAAAAAAACng/7m7qhcaMq1oBoOc7gGiE9gdrYyqvYTtNQCK4B/s1600/LH05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kpvITzoldho/WBvBXx4jCSI/AAAAAAAACng/7m7qhcaMq1oBoOc7gGiE9gdrYyqvYTtNQCK4B/s640/LH05.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>“Later on<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>tied to a bed in
a motel room<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>with the shorts
around their ankles<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>they break into tears<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>Meanwhile<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>exhausted and out
of breath sleeps the wolf”</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Finally, Sergio
prints the poem and files it away in a folder he made a long time ago with his
sister’s riding boots. Disturbing.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MT6j3XIiOtI/WBvCv0d2rlI/AAAAAAAACns/f24PmltzRbgkTQJ082ocyKSsfn6xjw4PACK4B/s1600/LH06.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MT6j3XIiOtI/WBvCv0d2rlI/AAAAAAAACns/f24PmltzRbgkTQJ082ocyKSsfn6xjw4PACK4B/s640/LH06.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet & Lorenzo Hernandez</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">© Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez 2016.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Laignelet,
Sergio, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cuentos sin hadas / Contes à
l’envers, édition bilingue</i>, Éditions Villa-Cisneros, 2015.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">More about Serdio
Laignelet at:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://sergiolaignelet.blogspot.com.es/"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">http://sergiolaignelet.blogspot.com.es</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The exhibition “Hitchcock.
Más allá del suspense” (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hitchcock. Beyond
Suspense</i>) can be visited at Espacio Fundación Telefónica <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Madrid) until 7 February 2016.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://espacio.fundaciontelefonica.com/evento/hitchcock-mas-alla-del-suspense/"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">https://espacio.fundaciontelefonica.com/evento/hitchcock-mas-alla-del-suspense/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hitchcock explains
the Kuleshov to Fletcher Markle:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96xx383lpiI">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96xx383lpiI</a></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-64722318512258535522016-11-04T21:52:00.000+00:002016-11-06T21:09:29.369+00:00SERGIO LAIGNELET Y EL EFECTO KULESHOV<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuHOGGF5lJw/WBvANqt9wMI/AAAAAAAACnY/xvD0rsv0pkoNU0H9Yl8l6RC_97qGqr0VACPcB/s1600/LH03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuHOGGF5lJw/WBvANqt9wMI/AAAAAAAACnY/xvD0rsv0pkoNU0H9Yl8l6RC_97qGqr0VACPcB/s640/LH03.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet como el Lobo Feroz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>“Los tres cerditos</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>caminan rumbo a sus casas<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>vestidos con pantalon corto”</i></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XhGDdiSvVQI/WBvAafnn4eI/AAAAAAAACnY/CBLf5fMTTvwsPre9-SMIHNU3gjCyD1-uwCPcB/s1600/LH02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="502" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XhGDdiSvVQI/WBvAafnn4eI/AAAAAAAACnY/CBLf5fMTTvwsPre9-SMIHNU3gjCyD1-uwCPcB/s640/LH02.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Las palabras del Maestro</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">En 1964 Fletcher Markle entrevistó a Alfred
Hitchcock para la CBS. En esta conversación el gran maestro explica el efecto Kuleshov
o cómo crear suspense combinando las imágenes adecuadas. Imaginemos un primer
plano de un hombre de mediana edad. A continuación, la cámara nos muestra a una
madre jugando con su hijo en el parque. Y de nuevo podemos ver al hombre, que
reacciona ante lo que ve con una sonrisa llena de bondad. ¿Pero qué ocurriría
si la cámara mostrara a una chica en bikini en lugar de la madre con su hijo?
¿Qué veríamos en la sonrisa del hombre? Probablemente, la mueca de un
pervertido.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1hprEBn2dAE/WBvAtc4M5vI/AAAAAAAACnY/YmM__iShXJEDPcN5G6A-rEIP53asMcm7gCPcB/s1600/LH01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1hprEBn2dAE/WBvAtc4M5vI/AAAAAAAACnY/YmM__iShXJEDPcN5G6A-rEIP53asMcm7gCPcB/s640/LH01.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Los Pájaros</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">El artista holandés Erwin Olaf nos invita a
mirar a través del ojo de dos cerraduras. A través de la primera podemos ver a
un hombre de unos cuarenta años con un niño sentado en su regazo. Le está
leyendo un cuento y al mismo tiempo acaricia su pelo con lentitud. La escena es
turbadora, probablemente por el contraste entre la aspereza de las manos
huesudas del hombre y la suavidad de la piel infantil. Pero si miramos a través
de la segunda, veremos al mismo niño sentado en el regazo de una mujer de
rasgos maternales. La acción es la misma, pero sus gestos desprenden calidez y
afecto.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KOg3Iah1LWM/WBvBO2Cx0EI/AAAAAAAACnk/bT4qft-RF7EZ6ykzVRwvHq0pfbdqT5r8gCPcB/s1600/LH04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KOg3Iah1LWM/WBvBO2Cx0EI/AAAAAAAACnk/bT4qft-RF7EZ6ykzVRwvHq0pfbdqT5r8gCPcB/s640/LH04.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">El poeta colombiano Sergio Laignelet nos
perturba con sus “Cuentos sin Hadas”, una colección de poemas en los que
distorsiona el</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">reconfortante mundo
de los cuentos de antes de dormir. En tan solo unos versos y con una asombrosa
economía verbal, Laignelet consigue despertar nuestras más oscuras pesadillas.
Todo comienza con una idea, la semilla de una historia. El proceso creativo es
lento y casi doloroso, con innumerables versiones que serán sometidas al ojo
crítico de su compañera Fernanda, testigo de la evolución de una narración
cocinada a fuego lento hasta quedar reducida a un puñado de palabras que tienen
el efecto de un puñetazo en el estómago.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kpvITzoldho/WBvBXx4jCSI/AAAAAAAACnk/G4VvDqXu3zwB4kgU-aBGxIoVNwNUgR3pACPcB/s1600/LH05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kpvITzoldho/WBvBXx4jCSI/AAAAAAAACnk/G4VvDqXu3zwB4kgU-aBGxIoVNwNUgR3pACPcB/s640/LH05.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>“luego<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>atados sobre la cama de un motel<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>con los pantaloncitos rodeándoles los tobillos<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>echan a llorar<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>mientras tanto<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>exhausto y sin aire duerme el lobo”<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Finalmente, Sergio imprime el poema y lo archiva en un cuaderno que se
hizo hace años con las botas de montar de su hermana. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Inquietante. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MT6j3XIiOtI/WBvCv0d2rlI/AAAAAAAACnw/68Fd5v00XkMmSE0dsLpF17ye5fd3USQ4wCPcB/s1600/LH06.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MT6j3XIiOtI/WBvCv0d2rlI/AAAAAAAACnw/68Fd5v00XkMmSE0dsLpF17ye5fd3USQ4wCPcB/s640/LH06.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sergio Laignelet y Lorenzo Hernandez</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "\22 arial\22 " , "\22 helvetica\22 " , sans-serif; font-size: 19px;">© Fotos: Lorenzo Hernandez 2016.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Laignelet, Sergio, </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Cuentos sin
hadas</i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">, Las tres Orillas, 2010.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Más sobre Sergio Laignelet en:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://sergiolaignelet.blogspot.com.es/">http://sergiolaignelet.blogspot.com.es</a></span></span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">La exposición “Hitchcock. Más allá del suspense” puede visitarse en el
Espacio Fundación Telefónica de Madrid hasta el 7 de febrero de 2016.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://espacio.fundaciontelefonica.com/evento/hitchcock-mas-alla-del-suspense/">https://espacio.fundaciontelefonica.com/evento/hitchcock-mas-alla-del-suspense/</a></span></span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hitchcock explica el efecto Kuleshov a Fletcher Markle<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96xx383lpiI"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96xx383lpiI</span></a></span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-52377094643877350442016-07-03T21:09:00.001+01:002016-07-04T11:47:17.516+01:00CON PERSEVERANCIA MANTENDREMOS VIVA LA REVOLUCIÓN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HV3VrKrPyow/V3lTse1ELgI/AAAAAAAACic/ljjsyYWKiCgas-FYYYYOI4qHpMsAeYVAwCKgB/s1600/17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="346" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HV3VrKrPyow/V3lTse1ELgI/AAAAAAAACic/ljjsyYWKiCgas-FYYYYOI4qHpMsAeYVAwCKgB/s640/17.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Hace unas
semanas un amigo me envió un enlace a una TED Talk titulada: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/angela_lee_duckworth_grit_the_power_of_passion_and_perseverance?language=es#t-5704" target="_blank">La clave del éxito? Determinación</a></i>.
Ángela cambió un trabajo de prestigio en una consultoría por otro mucho más
difícil, dar clases de matemáticas a niños de doce años y enseguida se dio
cuenta de que el éxito de sus alumnos no dependía tanto de su coeficiente
intelectual como de su determinación. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">¿En qué
consiste esa determinación? Para Ángela “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Determinación</i>
es abordar los objetivos a largo plazo con pasión y perseverancia. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Determinación</i> es ser resistente,
mantenerte leal a tu futuro día tras día, no sólo durante una semana o un mes,
sino durante años, trabajando duro para convertir ese futuro en realidad. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Determinación</i> es concebir la vida como
un maratón, no un sprint.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">A Ángela le
encantaría oír esta historia, la de una promesa cumplida por el Congreso de su
país tras 231 años gracias a la perseverancia de una mujer: Teresa Valcarcel,
conocida en Washington como <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La dama del
retrato. </i>No voy a entrar en detalles, pues hay un interesantísimo artículo
publicado en el <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/a-picture-of-persistence-in-honoring-a-spanish-hero-of-the-revolutionary-war/2014/10/30/d59cf296-5b95-11e4-b812-38518ae74c67_story.html" target="_blank">Washington Post</a> donde se narra toda esta aventura paso a paso.
Y para aquellos que no leéis en inglés, os mando un enlace a otro publicado en
la prensa española. Tan sólo diré que Teresa cambió Málaga por Washington por
amor. Allí formó una familia y convirtió EEUU en su nuevo hogar. Un día su
madre le envió un recorte de periódico que hablaba de un héroe de la revolución
americana, Bernardo de Gálvez, que nació en Macharaviaya, un pequeño pueblo entre
montañas de la Axarquía malagueña. El artículo hablaba de una carta que se
había encontrado en la que el congreso norteamericano prometía colgar un
retrato del héroe en el Capitolio. Teresa, ingenuamente, pensó que ya que
trabajaba cerca, podía acercarse al Congreso personalmente y recordarles que
tenían un cuadro por colgar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>La
cosa se complicó un poco más de lo que esperaba pero Teresa, una humilde
secretaria del sindicato de profesores, no es de los que admiten un <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no</i> como respuesta. Con su encanto y
simpatía se arregló para conseguir el apoyo de abogados, historiadores,
congresistas y senadores. Incluso reclutó a las Hijas de la Revolución
Americana. Y cuando se dio cuenta de que no había forma de encontrar el cuadro
que se suponía que tenían que colgar, consiguió que un prestigioso artista
pintara uno nuevo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wEoDlM3l8b8/V3lVO4xGoLI/AAAAAAAACi8/WAK1AEZpYm4Q91iza_EgwFITwZEU-tfJQCKgB/s1600/Bernardo%2Bde%2BGalvez%2BPortrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="598" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wEoDlM3l8b8/V3lVO4xGoLI/AAAAAAAACi8/WAK1AEZpYm4Q91iza_EgwFITwZEU-tfJQCKgB/s640/Bernardo%2Bde%2BGalvez%2BPortrait.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bernardo de Gálvez en 1781</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Hace un par de
días, mi primo Jose añadió más información a esta historia. Acababa de ver un
documental sobre Bernardo de Gálvez y se había enterado de que desde 2009 el
pueblo de Macharaviaya celebra el 4 de julio con una representación de la
Batalla de Pensacola, en la que los granaderos de Gálvez derrotaron a las
tropas británicas. Se trata del único pueblo en Europa donde se celebra el Día
de la Independencia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Decidí
acercarme y echar un vistazo. No fue difícil convencer a Lorenzo, a mi hija
Carla (que se vuelve loca por todo lo americano) y a mis dos hermanos con sus
niños para que me acompañaran. La posibilidad de disfrutar de un auténtico
Independence Day con batalla, barbacoa y fuegos artificiales en medio de los
montes sonaba prometedor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calle Nueva Orleans en Macharaviaya<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I-WIPWfq9Vk/V3lUEBHotbI/AAAAAAAACio/qziIEkL5N3QBgj8cKFPsLNp41jIVVYfZgCKgB/s1600/03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I-WIPWfq9Vk/V3lUEBHotbI/AAAAAAAACio/qziIEkL5N3QBgj8cKFPsLNp41jIVVYfZgCKgB/s640/03.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Realmente no
sabía con qué me iba a encontrar. Lo primero que me sorprendió fue la belleza
de Macharaviaya, un pueblo de casitas blancas lleno de rincones por descubrir.
Me pareció exquisitamente cuidado sin ser turístico, algo muy de agradecer.
Llegamos temprano y los habitantes del lugar nos recibieron con entusiasmo. Lo
primero que vimos fue un miembro de la resistencia británica prestándole su
fusil a una pareja de visitantes para hacerse una foto. Afortunadamente, los
festejos no son muy conocidos todavía y no han convertido el pueblo en un
parque temático, como ocurre tan a menudo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">La
representación de la batalla estaba anunciada para las 21.30 y nosotros,
esperando una avalancha como la del festival de la Luna Mora, habíamos llegado
con dos horas de antelación. Lo bueno es que tuvimos tiempo de charlar con los
actores, los voluntarios y la gente del pueblo mientras se preparaban para el
acontecimiento. Siguiendo sus consejos, me senté en una pequeña tribuna situada
a un lado de la plaza principal mientras Lorenzo hacía fotos del ensayo. Como
me sobraba tiempo, me puse a chatear con mi amiga Julia de San Francisco, quien
no podía creerse un pedazo de la historia de su país se escondía entre las
montañas de la provincia de Málaga. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Enseguida nos
enteramos de que los actores eran miembros de la Asociación de Granaderos y Damas
de Gálvez, a los que se unía este año un grupo de alumnos de primaria del
colegio Custodio Puga, que ha estado trabajando durante todo este curso en un
proyecto sobre el héroe macharatungo de la revolución. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorenzo hizo
algunas fotos del actor que iba a representar el papel de Gálvez, un
descendiente directo cuyo parecido con su antepasado resulta absolutamente
sorprendente.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ccob0umxO-8/V3lV5iWIs_I/AAAAAAAACjE/21PzVLbZ4zwF7dsryt6oKsW5RKh4jJqKACKgB/s1600/11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ccob0umxO-8/V3lV5iWIs_I/AAAAAAAACjE/21PzVLbZ4zwF7dsryt6oKsW5RKh4jJqKACKgB/s640/11.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bermardo de Gálvez en 2016<br />
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y75UGPCUQ5o/V3lV4e91GQI/AAAAAAAACjE/ZGDHFhiseZECIRYXar8HEDrBjGUQkSUGgCKgB/s1600/05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y75UGPCUQ5o/V3lV4e91GQI/AAAAAAAACjE/ZGDHFhiseZECIRYXar8HEDrBjGUQkSUGgCKgB/s640/05.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">El general Campbell se prepara para defender el fuerte</td></tr>
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</td></tr>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Al caer la
noche las tropas españolas y británicas llegaron a la plaza tras haber
desfilado por todo el pueblo. Resultaba impresionante ver a niños y adultos
desfilando con sus trajes de época, como un ejército disciplinado. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Los actores no
eran profesionales, pero se habían esforzado en preparar sus papeles. Los
trajes, especialmente los de las damas y las niñas, habían sido diseñados con
esmero. </span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Y cuando finalmente llegaron a las escena de la batalla, el entusiasmo
de los actores quedó reforzado por un uso efectivo del humo y la iluminación. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tras la
representación me reuní con mis hermanos, que habían encontrado un bar detrás
de la plaza y estaban disfrutando de la brisa nocturna sentados en la terraza.
Vimos los fuegos artificiales mientras comíamos unas hamburguesas gigantescas y
comentábamos los acontecimientos de la jornada. Mientras sostenía en su regazo
a su hijo dormido, un amigo de mi hermano me comentó que había oído a uno de
los soldados españoles diciéndole al representante de la delegación americana
encargado de portar la bandera muy despacito, para que se enterara: “Oye, el
año que viene te vienes una semana antes. Pero esta vez te quedas en mi casa.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Así se
estrechan los lazos entre naciones ¿no os parece?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Macharaviaya de noche </td></tr>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-42304390710040746252016-07-03T19:26:00.000+01:002016-07-04T11:46:05.385+01:00GRIT KEPT THE REVOLUTION ALIVE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HV3VrKrPyow/V3lTse1ELgI/AAAAAAAACiQ/_jLP6heIHaog4mBbX2MisBCw6oFeSXu0QCLcB/s1600/17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="346" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HV3VrKrPyow/V3lTse1ELgI/AAAAAAAACiQ/_jLP6heIHaog4mBbX2MisBCw6oFeSXu0QCLcB/s640/17.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">A few weeks
ago a friend sent me a link to a TED Talk given by Angela Lee Duckworth: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/angela_lee_duckworth_grit_the_power_of_passion_and_perseverance" target="_blank">The key to success? Grit</a>.</i> When Angela
moved from management consulting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>to a much more demanding job, teaching maths to seventh graders, she
realised that contrary to common belief, the students with the highest IQ were not
the most likely to succeed, but the ones who had real grit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">What is grit?
According to Angela, “ Grit is passion and perseverance for very long-term
goals. Grit is having stamina. Grit is sticking with your future, day in, day
out, not just for the week, not just for the month, but for years, and working
really hard to make that future a reality. Grit is living life like it's a
marathon, not a sprint.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Angela would
have loved this tale, the story of a 231-year-old promise fulfilled by the US
Congress thanks to the unbreakable perseverance of a single woman: Teresa
Valcarcel, known in Washington as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Portrait Lady</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t give
you all the details because there is an engaging article published in <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/a-picture-of-persistence-in-honoring-a-spanish-hero-of-the-revolutionary-war/2014/10/30/d59cf296-5b95-11e4-b812-38518ae74c67_story.html" target="_blank"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Washington Post</i> </a>that describes the
whole quest. I’ll just sat that Teresa moved from Malaga to Washington because
of love. She started a family over there and made the US her new home. One day,
her mother sent her a newspaper clipping about an American Revolution hero,
Bernardo de Galvez, who had been born in Macharaviaya, a small village in the
middle of the mountains in Malaga, in Southern Spain. A letter had been found
saying that the American Congress had promised to hang Galvez’s portrait in The
Capitol. Teresa, a secretary at the teachers’ trade union, naïvely thought
that, as she worked just down the road, she could just go there and remind them
that there was a picture to hang. This proved to be much more complicated than
she expected. Teresa was no diplomat, scholar or politician, but she would not
take a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no</i> as an answer. She wooed and
cajoled lawyers, historians, congressmen, senators; she made the Daughters of
the American Revolution her allies. And when she discovered that the portrait
that was supposed to be hanging in one of the Congress rooms was nowhere to be
found, she managed to get a new one painted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wEoDlM3l8b8/V3lVO4xGoLI/AAAAAAAACik/FdTu-5lBUwsqf2Vnl10ovQsHAuCJl5DYQCLcB/s1600/Bernardo%2Bde%2BGalvez%2BPortrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="598" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wEoDlM3l8b8/V3lVO4xGoLI/AAAAAAAACik/FdTu-5lBUwsqf2Vnl10ovQsHAuCJl5DYQCLcB/s640/Bernardo%2Bde%2BGalvez%2BPortrait.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bernardo de Gálvez 1781</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">A couple of
days ago, my friend Jose added more information to the story. He had seen a
documentary about Bernardo de Galvez and learned that since 2009 the village of
Macharaviaya celebrates de 4<sup>th</sup> of July with a re-enactment of the
Battle of Pensacola, in which the British troops were defeated by Galvez’s
grenadiers. This is the only village in Europe that commemorates the American
Independence. Jose told me that the celebrations take place on the Saturday
previous to Independence Day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I immediately
decided to go and have a look. I easily convinced Lorenzo, my daughter Carla
(who likes anything American) and my two brothers and their children to join
me. The promise of an all-American Independence Day bash with battle, barbecue
and fireworks in the middle of Malaga’s mountains sounded really promising. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC4jYeJTw_Q/V3lT-g32n9I/AAAAAAAACio/SHH7uxWxCaYMwvkeIZ5R5pySb805Z_PzQCKgB/s1600/01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC4jYeJTw_Q/V3lT-g32n9I/AAAAAAAACio/SHH7uxWxCaYMwvkeIZ5R5pySb805Z_PzQCKgB/s640/01.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Orleans Street in Macharaviaya-Southern Spain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I-WIPWfq9Vk/V3lUEBHotbI/AAAAAAAACio/qziIEkL5N3QBgj8cKFPsLNp41jIVVYfZgCKgB/s1600/03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I-WIPWfq9Vk/V3lUEBHotbI/AAAAAAAACio/qziIEkL5N3QBgj8cKFPsLNp41jIVVYfZgCKgB/s640/03.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I really did
not know what to expect, and the first thing that surprised me was the sheer
beauty of Macharaviaya, a village of white little houses and corners to
discover. I found it exquisitely looked after but not touristy, something that
pleased me immensely. We were early and the people greeted us with enthusiasm. We
found a member of the British resistance lending his gun to a young couple of
visitors and taking a picture. Fortunately, word has not spread too much and
the event has not turned into a tourist theme park yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CUgEV9h6xNw/V3lV5fUKALI/AAAAAAAACi0/lcRpz8zbe-QQt6fCvuSSAu3BqY3j46-7gCLcB/s1600/06.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CUgEV9h6xNw/V3lV5fUKALI/AAAAAAAACi0/lcRpz8zbe-QQt6fCvuSSAu3BqY3j46-7gCLcB/s640/06.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bbuj2vHFnZ0/V3lV5K397NI/AAAAAAAACiw/Zkfk-kUSudM8K52pN9ZLTUI8QkulWLlEwCLcB/s1600/07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bbuj2vHFnZ0/V3lV5K397NI/AAAAAAAACiw/Zkfk-kUSudM8K52pN9ZLTUI8QkulWLlEwCLcB/s640/07.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The battle
re-enactment was announce for 21.30 and we were well in advance, so we had time
to chat with the actors, the volunteers and the people in the village. I sat at
the mini grandstand that had been built at the church square while Lorenzo started
making pictures, moving around the actors during the battle rehearsal. I had
time to kill, so I sent some pictures to my friend Julia in San Francisco. She
was amazed at discovering that there was a bit of American history hidden in
the heart of the province of Malaga. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">We soon
learned that the performers were members of the Galvez’s Grenadiers and Dames
Association (Asociación de Granaderos y Damas de Gálvez), joined this year by
the pupils of a primary school of one of the villages nearby, who have been
involved in a year-long project focused on Bernardo de Galvez. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lorenzo took
some pictures of the actor who was going to play the role of Bernardo de Galvez,
a direct descendant whose resemblance to the eighteenth-century revolutionary
was just stunning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ccob0umxO-8/V3lV5iWIs_I/AAAAAAAACi4/lh8sm3MvT-IiWYtDcXkHcfm9wKJBtYUqgCLcB/s1600/11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ccob0umxO-8/V3lV5iWIs_I/AAAAAAAACi4/lh8sm3MvT-IiWYtDcXkHcfm9wKJBtYUqgCLcB/s640/11.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Bernardo de Galvez 2016<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y75UGPCUQ5o/V3lV4e91GQI/AAAAAAAACis/tOvCxlxwfHkGMN5lCcWvWuMGRohyHh3zQCLcB/s1600/05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y75UGPCUQ5o/V3lV4e91GQI/AAAAAAAACis/tOvCxlxwfHkGMN5lCcWvWuMGRohyHh3zQCLcB/s640/05.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">General Campbell get ready to defend Fort George</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Night fell and
the Spanish and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>British troops
arrived at the square after parading around the village. It was quite a sight,
children and adults marching in their costumes, like a disciplined army. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j49ZNYMKsZ4/V3lXTtyZbII/AAAAAAAACjI/84kjn9fc3SYZneOnhP5aoh-xD68CJb5sgCLcB/s1600/14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j49ZNYMKsZ4/V3lXTtyZbII/AAAAAAAACjI/84kjn9fc3SYZneOnhP5aoh-xD68CJb5sgCLcB/s640/14.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The actors
were not professionals, but they had put a lot of effort in the preparation of
their roles. The costumes, especially the ladies’ and the girls’ had been
exquisitely made. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y9974Zu4Wtg/V3lXmddiWTI/AAAAAAAACjM/RV2F7whqH6MTIfaDqSLDjt11sYs2Js9dgCLcB/s1600/15.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y9974Zu4Wtg/V3lXmddiWTI/AAAAAAAACjM/RV2F7whqH6MTIfaDqSLDjt11sYs2Js9dgCLcB/s640/15.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8RiUK03yrQ/V3lXn4eJFiI/AAAAAAAACjQ/dfTZlzXzIXwOHjkSMATZuYLM72lHkvz2ACLcB/s1600/16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8RiUK03yrQ/V3lXn4eJFiI/AAAAAAAACjQ/dfTZlzXzIXwOHjkSMATZuYLM72lHkvz2ACLcB/s640/16.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">And when they finally reached the battle scene, the actors’ enthusiasm
was enhanced by the clever use of lighting and smoke. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qUmVDuJRn2g/V3lTf_BDmxI/AAAAAAAACic/6R6NbRDZjNQPrsScCRX5PlGOv5lDmWTMgCKgB/s1600/18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qUmVDuJRn2g/V3lTf_BDmxI/AAAAAAAACic/6R6NbRDZjNQPrsScCRX5PlGOv5lDmWTMgCKgB/s640/18.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">After the show
I joined my brothers, who had found a bar at the back of the church square and
were enjoying the night breeze sitting at the terrace. We watched the fireworks
while having a hamburger. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">One of my brothers’ friends, with an exhausted child
sleeping in his arms told me that he had heard one of the Spanish soldiers
telling one of the American representative, who was carrying the US flag in the
parade: “Next year you must come one week in advance… But this time you must
stay in my house.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;">This is the
true spirit, isn’t it? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Macharaviaya by night<br />
<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yysw-IMJtEc/V3lYPaXk6VI/AAAAAAAACjY/wApMKsWrms0FIHpRWyYo-8zi4B6FPVTBQCKgB/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yysw-IMJtEc/V3lYPaXk6VI/AAAAAAAACjY/wApMKsWrms0FIHpRWyYo-8zi4B6FPVTBQCKgB/s640/25.jpg" width="360" /></a><br />
<br /></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-61501589039232396812016-03-06T18:43:00.002+00:002016-03-06T19:03:04.367+00:00"ARTE EN MOVIMIENTO" UN SUEÑO REALIZADO<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xc8UNqLJ33U/VtxopvbZ3DI/AAAAAAAACVA/iFedOOjBOP8/s1600/invitation.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xc8UNqLJ33U/VtxopvbZ3DI/AAAAAAAACVA/iFedOOjBOP8/s640/invitation.jpg" width="450" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Como muchos amigos
en España nos habéis preguntado cómo nos fue con la exposición <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Arte en movimiento</i> en Londres, aquí
tenéis un pequeño resumen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">Tras algunas
vicisitudes como el temporal en el Cantábrico, que retuvo las obras en el
puerto de Santander durante cinco días, todo estuvo preparado para la
inauguración el 16 de febrero. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lzbim1RNGWs/Vtxhl0QiORI/AAAAAAAACUQ/AUe-SYiZttk/s1600/20160215_121529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Lzbim1RNGWs/Vtxhl0QiORI/AAAAAAAACUQ/AUe-SYiZttk/s640/20160215_121529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Organizando la exposición</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DwbJ7chBiCA/Vtxh1no-dhI/AAAAAAAACUY/byqF2ulObO4/s1600/Preparacion%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="496" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DwbJ7chBiCA/Vtxh1no-dhI/AAAAAAAACUY/byqF2ulObO4/s640/Preparacion%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Últimos toques mientras me entrevistaban para la Agencia EFE<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">De los artistas retratados en este proyecto hemos
aprendido que la difusión es tan importante como la creación. Gracias a los perfiles de algunos de los artistas participantes publicados en <a href="http://www.brit-es.org/article/arte-en-movimiento-de-lorenzo-hernandez-jes%C3%BAs-montero-director-y-escritor" target="_blank">Brit Es Magazine</a>,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> la información sobre la exposición publicada </span><a href="http://www.eliberico.com/el-fotografo-e-en-movimiento.html" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;">El Ibérico</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> y la entrevista en cuatro partes que
me hizo </span><a href="http://www.josemanuelcruz.es/entrevista-a-lorenzo-hernandez-i/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">José Manuel Cruz</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> en su blog, se creo mucha expectación. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">También
contribuyeron la <a href="http://www.aecid.es/ES/cultura/Paginas/Actividades/2016/2016-02-25-Flamenco-Foto-Espanola-en-Londres.aspx" target="_blank">Oficina de Asuntos Culturales y Científicos de la EmbajadaEspañola en Londres</a> y listings como London Photography Diary, <a href="http://www.xtrart.es/2015/11/06/lorenzo-hernandez-documenta-el-momento-clave-de-50-artistas-espanoles-en-la-escena-artistica-de-londres/" target="_blank">Xtrart</a> o
Galleries, donde Arte en movimiento se anunciaba junto a la exposición de
Frank Auerbach en la Tate Britain o la del maestro Richard Avedon, una de mis
fuentes de inspiració, en la Gagosian Gallery. Esto fue un sueño hecho realidad
que comenzó en los 80, cuando hice mis primeras fotos en Londres.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jGZ9swvzxOw/VtxnAZOd9PI/AAAAAAAACUw/avv4csFPql0/s1600/Galleries_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jGZ9swvzxOw/VtxnAZOd9PI/AAAAAAAACUw/avv4csFPql0/s640/Galleries_1.jpg" width="438" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Galleries</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z7SR-s27t9Y/VtxmAp8vRSI/AAAAAAAACUo/jbVElgUqcQs/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2016-02-11%2Bat%2B21.59.23.png" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z7SR-s27t9Y/VtxmAp8vRSI/AAAAAAAACUo/jbVElgUqcQs/s640/Screen%2BShot%2B2016-02-11%2Bat%2B21.59.23.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">London Photography Diary<br />
<br />
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">El día de la
inauguración o <i>private view</i> se
reunieron alrededor de 300 personas y tanto la exposición como el libro
tuvieron una gran aceptación. Acostumbrado a que a la mayoría de las personas
que retrato se sientan incómodos al verse como yo los he captado, fue una
agradable sorpresa ver que todos los artistas estaban contentos con el
resultado. No sé si eso será bueno o malo para mi reputación...</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E1_WGOh1NOc/VtxqJ1GIHwI/AAAAAAAACVY/URUaUPOzZoY/s1600/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E1_WGOh1NOc/VtxqJ1GIHwI/AAAAAAAACVY/URUaUPOzZoY/s640/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cubmBnEk4qQ/VtxqPxn_kJI/AAAAAAAACVk/yXwgQssMhy4/s1600/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cubmBnEk4qQ/VtxqPxn_kJI/AAAAAAAACVk/yXwgQssMhy4/s640/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mds7rfVn_KE/VtxqW7r7GhI/AAAAAAAACVs/womV-qhDsnc/s1600/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B6.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mds7rfVn_KE/VtxqW7r7GhI/AAAAAAAACVs/womV-qhDsnc/s640/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Uno de los mejores momentos fue cuando dos de los artistas de <i>Arte en movimiento</i>, la guitarrista María Camahort y la violinista Lucía Veintimilla nos deleitaron con unas maravillosas piezas de música española. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DmW5Qwn7rvo/VtxrgnZGK7I/AAAAAAAACV0/icrj9b7gpH8/s1600/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B37.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DmW5Qwn7rvo/VtxrgnZGK7I/AAAAAAAACV0/icrj9b7gpH8/s640/PRIVATE%2BVIEW%2B37.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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Las fotos de la inauguración han sido realizadas por Jamie Smith.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-73ojFTc16h8/VtxuqGcNnwI/AAAAAAAACWA/LZgF3zmB_Kw/s1600/unnamed-4.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="442" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-73ojFTc16h8/VtxuqGcNnwI/AAAAAAAACWA/LZgF3zmB_Kw/s640/unnamed-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="PL"><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;">En el pub después de la inauguración. </span></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">Fue un placer el
volver a reunirme con la mayoría de ellos, aunque dadas las circunstancias,
tuve poco tiempo para charlar como me hubiera gustado. Algunos faltaron por
diversos motivos pero muchos de ellos se pasaron por la exposición en días
sucesivos. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">También conté con el
apoyo y la compañía de Guillermo Camacho, amigo y editor en Aurora Boreal®</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">El 23 de febrero,
día de mi 57 cumpleaños, se reunieron un grupo de artistas para celebrar un
debate y fue interesantísimo el escuchar cómo diseccionaban mi trabajo. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--brZ-LcVfTQ/VtxvxXX6ceI/AAAAAAAACWI/VNRyfspfvo8/s1600/01.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w2zgepeTi2E/VtxvzVk6-WI/AAAAAAAACWQ/ZfcJaR2RKYI/s1600/02.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="344" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w2zgepeTi2E/VtxvzVk6-WI/AAAAAAAACWQ/ZfcJaR2RKYI/s640/02.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: x-small;">Foto: Carla Hernández</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">He aquí algunos de los comentarios: </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Una cosa que aprecio es la flexibilidad que se muestra en las fotos de la exposición. Lorenzo no sigue un patrón sino que fotografía a cada artista de una forma individual. (Joana Granero, directora del London Spanish Film Festival).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me encanta mi retrato porque me muestra tal y como soy. Es honesto. Como artista, sin honestidad no llegas a ninguna parte. Ha sido una experiencia que siempre recordaré. (Jesús Montero, escritor y director).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cuando me pidió que acariciara la guitarra como si fuera mi novio me dejó perpleja. Pero lo hice. (Maria Camahort, guitarrista).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tú haces que la gente actúe para ti, les dejas ser ellos mismos. (Pau Ros, fotógrafo).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">La entrevista que le hicieron en cuatro partes me dejó de piedra. Me dije: ¿Quién es este tío? Me sorprendió su humildad. (Enrique Arce, actor).</span><br />
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span lang="ES-TRAD">Me parece muy interesante lo que comenta en el libro de que en Londres el tiempo es pésimo pero la luz magnífica porque cambia constantemente. Me llamó la atención que trabaje con la luz que se encuentra en cada situación... y que lo haga tan rápido. Y en cuanto al gatito, fue un "instant beautifier". (Susana Medina, escritora). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Tuvimos muy buena conexión desde el primer momento (Alex Amorós, músico y fotógrafo).</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Cualquier persona tiene la posibilidad de ser interesante. El buen fotógrafo tiene la habilidad de capturar esta posibilidad de ser único en circunstancias triviales. (Enrique Arce, actor).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Lorenzo es un fotógrafo muy intuitivo y realmente disfruta con lo que hace. Lo que más me fascina es la forma que tiene de acercarse a la persona. (Beatriz Mérida, Oficina Cultural de la Embajada Española en Londres). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cuando te pones ante la cámara piensas "Esta persona es un intruso" y sientes la necesidad de protegerte. Pero Lorenzo inspecciona y encuentra una forma de atravesar la barrera. Se produjo una especie de diálogo privado entre nosotros. (Eva Bosch, pintora). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cuando llegas a una cierta edad y te das cuenta de lo vieja que eres, la honestidad a veces puede ser brutal. (Lala Isla, escritora y antropóloga). </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.eliberico.com/lorenzo-hernandez-retrata-el-momento-artistico-de-los-espanoles-en-londres.html" target="_blank">Entrevista tras la inauguración</a></span></div>
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<span lang="PL" style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Ya con la exposición
empaquetada y los libros bien guardados seguimos recibiendo visitas. </span></span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="PL"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Arte en Movimiento</span></span></i><span lang="PL"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> está significando mucho para mí no sólo desde el
punto de vista artístico sino también personal. Ahora la idea es moverlo por
España y otros países. Nos hemos dado cuenta de que no sólo es un documento
fotográfico sino que las personas fotografiadas son un modelo para muchos
jóvenes que sueñan con realizar sus proyectos y hacer lo que más les gusta. </span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-62678684140184726282015-03-14T21:36:00.001+00:002015-03-15T15:08:47.737+00:00NICK CAVE, MONTSERRAT ROIG Y EL MONIGOTE PERDIDO<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Esta es mi primera entrada en meses. Tras mi
regreso a España, la inspiración parecía haberse agotado. Mi vida se había acomodado
a una nueva rutina: estudiar, dar clases, ir a la montaña de vez en cuando,
disfrutar de mi estancia en el apartamento donde Lorenzo, Carla y yo comenzamos
nuestra nueva vida. Más que </span><i style="font-family: Arial;">Remembering
in London</i><span style="font-family: Arial;">, este blog debería llamarse </span><i style="font-family: Arial;">Buscando
la inspiración perdida en Londres. </i><span style="font-family: Arial;">No obstante, algo ocurrió ayer que
encendió la vieja llama.</span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Tras pasar el día entre papeles, decidí hacer
una visita al viejo cine Albéniz, una de las joyas que hace que merezca la pena
vivir en Málaga; el único lugar en el que puedes realmente disfrutar del cine
independiente en versión original. Me llena de alegría el ver que siempre hay
cola en la taquilla, aunque he de decir que la mayoría de los presentes tienen
más de cuarenta años. Seguro que muchos de ellos venían a este mismo cine a ver
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sonrisas y lágrimas</i> cada año, como yo
solía hacer con mis tías cuando era una niña.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V9hN-Kz1Dmg/VQSk-t53HNI/AAAAAAAACH4/_tkmTcuFEPg/s1600/Espectadores.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V9hN-Kz1Dmg/VQSk-t53HNI/AAAAAAAACH4/_tkmTcuFEPg/s1600/Espectadores.JPG" height="392" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Los espectadores hacen cola a la entrada del cine Albéniz</td></tr>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">No tienes que pensártelo mucho para elegir una
película en el Albéniz. Todo es bueno. Me decidí por <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">20,000 Days On Earth (20.000 días en la tierra)</i>, el documental
sobre Nick Cave, simplemente porque el horario me venía bien. Lo<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>que me encontré fue un auténtico festín:
el sonido de la voz profunda de Cave recitando los pensamientos garabateados en
sus cuadernos a lo largo de los años, la calidad envolvente de su música,
compuesta junto a Warren Ellis, la luz melancólica y evocativa de Brighton en
otoño… Pero, sobre todo, lo que puso en marcha mi cerebro fue el experimentar
el placer de mirar hacia atrás, el encontrarte con tu viejo yo a mitad de la
vida, descubriendo que eres básicamente la misma persona, aunque no del todo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ha53au0I7b0/VQSmTqr_LbI/AAAAAAAACIg/TEovX_AVXgg/s1600/UK-20000DAYS_QUAD7-1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ha53au0I7b0/VQSmTqr_LbI/AAAAAAAACIg/TEovX_AVXgg/s1600/UK-20000DAYS_QUAD7-1024x768.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Cuando regresé a Málaga en mayo, mi madre, inspirada
por mi experiencia con la reminiscencia, decidió bucear en sus viejas cajas de
recuerdos y rescató una colección de viejas fotografías y un trozo de papel que
había conservado durante treinta años: un ejercicio de autorreflexión que yo
había realizado mientras estudiaba COU, a la edad de 17 años. El papel mostraba
un monigote, al que yo había “decorado” con gafas de culo de vaso, una camiseta
a rayas y unos zapatos de arlequín, tratando de quitarle importancia a las
preguntas y respuestas unidas mediante flechas a las diferentes partes de su
cuerpo. “Típico de mí”, pensé cuando lo vi. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EzFy3HLTmk4/VQSlIvyqQYI/AAAAAAAACIY/CcveUt6741o/s1600/Monigote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EzFy3HLTmk4/VQSlIvyqQYI/AAAAAAAACIY/CcveUt6741o/s1600/Monigote.jpg" height="400" width="290" /></a></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Había preguntas del tipo “¿En qué hombro te
apoyas?” o “¿Hacia dónde vas?” y antes de empezar a leer pensé que mi vieja visión
de la vida me iba a parecer ridícula e incluso embarazosa. No podía estar más
equivocada. Fue asombroso el comprobar cómo mi perspectiva no había cambiado un
ápice: he ganado y perdido muchos amigos en el camino, pero las personas en las
que me apoyo son las exactamente las mismas; todavía veo el futuro como una
página en blanco y trato de disfrutar del presente; lo que más temo es<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>que algún día no sea capaz de reconocer
a la gente que quiero. Era simplemente yo en ese trozo de papel <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Cuando llegué a casa me encontré dun mensaje
de Lorenzo: no te pierdas este fabuloso documental en la web de Televisión
Española a la Carta. Seguí el enlace y me encontré con una joya que encajaba
perfectamente con mis pensamientos.</span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Hace treinta años, mientra yo dibujaba
monigotes, la escritora y periodista Montserrat Roig entrevistó a una serie de
jóvenes para un programa titulado <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Búscate
la vida. </i>Algunos eran anónimos: un torero decidido a continuar en los
ruedos a pesar de haber perdido un ojo a causa de una cornada; una jornalera de
Marinaleda, el pueblo andaluz donde los trabajadores hicieron la revolución
allá por los años 80; la alcaldesa más joven de España, una chica de tan sólo
18 años; un chico decidido a hacerse objetor de conciencia (recordemos que el
servicio militar fue obligatorio hasta 1996) y que trabajaba repartiendo cartas
en un banco mientras intentaba triunfar como estrella del pop. Los otros
nombres me resultaban familiares: Clara Morán, la hija del ministros de asuntos
exteriores allá por los ochenta, y la coreógrafa Blanca Li. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">En el programa se mostraba a estos jóvenes en
la actualidad, mirando las viejas grabaciones y reflexionando sobre lo que eran
y lo que son. La mayoría sentían lo mismo que yo cuando se enfrentaban a su yo
más joven: en el fondo no habían cambiado; sus perspectivas vitales eran más o
menos las mismas. Se podía ver que algunos habían recibido sus golpes en la
vida (divorcio, enfermedad, muerte, desempleo…) Nada se mencionaba abiertamente,
pero se podía inferir en sus conversaciones o simplemente en sus miradas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Se podía ver que, a pesar de la crisis, la
vida en España ha mejorado increíblemente desde los ochenta: en una de las
entrevistas, la chica de Marinaleda dice que la libertad significa poder comer
cuando lo necesitas y poder expresar tus opiniones abiertamente. Asumía que no
podía tener las cosas bonitas que anunciaban en la televisión, pero el saber
que había gente con tanto y gente con tan poco le llenaba de indignación. Ahora
tiene un móvil y un coche porque los necesita… o quizás porque ahora es como
cualquier otra persona. Todavía vive con el chico con el que se casó el año
antes de ser entrevistada por Roig. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">La alcaldesa todavía vive en su pueblo.
Consiguió hacer realidad su proyecto de abrir un colegio para que los niños y
niñas no tuvieran que viajar 70 Km. todos los días, aunque tuvieron que
cerrarlo hace dos años porque ya no quedan niños. Todavía trabaja en el
ayuntamiento, ahora como concejala. Hace treinta años los hombres le decían que
se fuera a su casa a limpiar y no se metiera en asuntos que no corresponden a
las mujeres. ¡Cuánto ha cambiado la vida desde entonces!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">La única que ha cambiado mucho es Clara Morán.
Resulta claro que la vida no es lo que ella esperaba. De ningún modo se
reconocía en la mujercita llena de seguridad que aparecía en la pantalla. Sin
embardo, ha descubierto el valor de la ingenuidad y ahora no tiene miedo a
mostrarse tal y como es. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">En cuanto a Blanca Li, es la que realmente ha
triunfado. También era la que tenía un objetivo más claro, la que no tenía
miedo de fracasar porque fallar una vez no quiere decir que vayas a hacerlo
siempre (una buena lección, teniendo en cuenta que procede de una niña de 17
años). Ahora es una célebre coreógrafa que vive la vida a la que siempre aspiró,
profesional y personalmente. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">El programa termina con una promesa de
Montserrat Roig: entrevistar a todos estos chicos y chicas dentro de diez años
para ver en qué medida habían conseguido sus objetivos. No pudo ser. Seis años
más tarde, a la edad de 45 años, el cáncer se llevó su vida. Treinta años
después, sus amigos han terminado este proyecto como homenaje a ella y como
regalo para todos nosotros. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SofhhjMid5s/VQSlDru9JFI/AAAAAAAACIA/tAkxnrmAaoI/s1600/New%2BDoc_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SofhhjMid5s/VQSlDru9JFI/AAAAAAAACIA/tAkxnrmAaoI/s1600/New%2BDoc_1.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yo hace treinta años, mientras estudiaba árabe en Marruecos</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qUt5A6E3ty0/VQSlEztYZBI/AAAAAAAACII/W4UYBqjWG64/s1600/_DSC3221%2Bcopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qUt5A6E3ty0/VQSlEztYZBI/AAAAAAAACII/W4UYBqjWG64/s1600/_DSC3221%2Bcopy.JPG" height="363" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yo ahora</td></tr>
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Aquí podéis ver el documental <a href="http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/el-documental/documental-vida-encontrada/2878696/" target="_blank">La vida encontrada</a><div>
Y en filmin podéis encontrar <a href="https://www.filmin.es/pelicula/20000-dias-en-la-tierra" target="_blank">20.000 días en la tierra</a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-44369900583414071482015-03-14T21:29:00.002+00:002015-03-15T15:08:47.730+00:00NICK CAVE, MONTSERRAT ROIG AND THE LOST PUPPET<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This is my first entry in months. After coming
back to Spain, inspiration seemed to have run out. My life seemed to have
settled into a new routine: teaching, studying, going to the mountains from
time to time, spending and enjoying time on my own in the apartment where
Lorenzo, Carla and I started our life together.</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">It seemed that rather than “Remembering in London”, this
blog should have been called </span><i style="font-family: Arial;">Finding the
lost inspiration in London</i><span style="font-family: Arial;">. However, something happened yesterday that lit
the old flame.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">After having spent the day among papers, I
decided to pay a visit to the old Albeniz cinema, one of the jewels that make
it worth living in Malaga, the only place where you can enjoy truly independent
cinema in the original version. It puts a smile on my face to see that there’s
always a queue at the box office, although I must say that most of the aficionados
are over forty. I bet many of them used to go to this very same cinema to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Sound of Music</i> every year, as I used
to do with my aunties when I was a kid.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V9hN-Kz1Dmg/VQSk-t53HNI/AAAAAAAACH0/XMaUb5mqHZU/s1600/Espectadores.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V9hN-Kz1Dmg/VQSk-t53HNI/AAAAAAAACH0/XMaUb5mqHZU/s1600/Espectadores.JPG" height="393" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spectators queuing outside the Albeniz Cinema</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You don’t have to think much to choose a film at
the Albeniz. Everything is good. I decided to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">20,000 Days On Earth</i>, the documentary about Nick Cave, just because
it fitted into my timetable. What I found was a feast to the senses: the sound
of Nick’s deep voice as he recited the thoughts he had jotted down in his
notebooks throughout the years, the involving nature of his music, composed
together with Warren Ellis, the gloomy and evocative light of Brighton in the
autumn… But most of all, what really put my brain into motion was to experience
the enjoyable pleasure of looking back at your old self halfway through your
life, discovering that you are pretty much the same, but not quite. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ha53au0I7b0/VQSmTqr_LbI/AAAAAAAACIc/-2pBLIre2rA/s1600/UK-20000DAYS_QUAD7-1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ha53au0I7b0/VQSmTqr_LbI/AAAAAAAACIc/-2pBLIre2rA/s1600/UK-20000DAYS_QUAD7-1024x768.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When I returned to Malaga in May, my mum,
inspired by my reminiscence experience, decided to dive into the old boxes of
memories we have at home and fished a collection of old photographs and a piece
of paper she had kept for thirty years: a self-reflection exercise I had done
during my last year of high school, when I was 17. It contained the drawing of
a puppet, which I had duly decorated in a self-deprecating manner with thick
glasses, a striped t-shirt and funny shoes, as a way of resting importance to
the questions and answers that were linked by arrows<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to the different parts of its body – so typical of me, I
thought, when I saw it. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EzFy3HLTmk4/VQSlIvyqQYI/AAAAAAAACIQ/JOqp9OvUJm8/s1600/Monigote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EzFy3HLTmk4/VQSlIvyqQYI/AAAAAAAACIQ/JOqp9OvUJm8/s1600/Monigote.jpg" height="320" width="232" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">There were questions of the type “On which
shoulders do you lean on?” or “How do you face the future?” and before starting
to read I thought I would laugh at how ridiculous my outlook on life would seem
to me today, thirty years later. I couldn’t be more wrong. It was truly amazing
to see that my view hadn’t changed an iota: I have lost and gained lots of
friends on the way, but the people I lean on are exactly the same; I still see
the future as a blank page and I try to enjoy the present; what I fear the most
is not being able to recognize the people I love one day. It was me, just me,
on that piece of paper. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When I arrived home, I found a text from
Lorenzo: watch this wonderful documentary on the Spanish Television website. I
followed the link he sent me and I found that the content of this other jewel
was absolutely relevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Thirty years ago, in the same year I was drawing
the puppet, the writer Montserrat Roig interviewed a series of young people for
a documentary called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Búscate la vida</i>
(an expression that means something like “Try to make a living”). Some of them
were anonymous: a young matador who was keen on continuing his career on the
bullring despite having lost an eye; a farmer from Marinaleda, a small village
in Andalucia where the workers’ revolution was made in the 1980s; the youngest
mayor in Spain, a girl of just 18; or a boy who decided to become a conscience
objector (doing the military service was compulsive until 1996) and who worked
delivering letters in a bank and tried to make a career as a pop singer. The
other two names were familiar: Clara Moran, the daughter of the Socialist
Foreign Secretary in the 1980s, and the choreographer Blanca Li. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In the programme you could see these young people
nowadays, looking at the old recordings and reflecting on what they were and
what they are. Most of them shared my feelings when they confronted their
younger selves: deep down they had not changed; their outlook on life was more
or less the same. You could see that some of them had received their blows in
life (divorce, illness, death, unemployment…) Nothing was openly said about
this, but you could infer it from their conversation or just from their look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You could see that despite the economic crisis,
life in Spain has incredibly improved since the 1980s: in one of the
interviews, the girl from Marinaleda said that freedom was to be able to eat
whenever you need to and to be able to express your thoughts openly. She
assumed that she could not have the nice things she could see on TV but claimed
that knowing that there were people with so little and people with so much made
her angry. Nowadays she has a mobile phone and a car because she needs them… or
perhaps because she has become like anyone else. She still lives with the boy
she married one year before she was interviewed by Roig. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The mayor still lives in her little village. She
managed to open a school so that the children did not have to leave their homes
to study 70 km away, although they had to close it a couple of years ago
because there are almost no children left. She still works at the Town Hall,
now as a councillor. Thirty years ago the men in the village used to tell her
to go home and do the housework instead of meddling with businesses that did
not correspond to women. How has life changed since then!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span><br /><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">
The only one who has change a great deal is Clara Morán; life is obviously not
what she expected. She would not recognize herself in the self-assured little
woman on the screen. But she has discovered the value of naïvety and now she is
not afraid of showing herself as she really is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As for Blanca Li, she’s the most successful one.
She was also the most focused, the one who was not afraid of failing because
failing once does not mean that you will fail forever (what a lesson to be
received from an 17 year old). Now she’s a renowned choreographer, living the
life she always wanted, professionally and personally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">At the end of the programme we can see how
Montserrat Roig promised that she would interview all these boys and girls ten
years on in order to see if they had achieved their goals in life. This was not
possible. Six years later, at the age of 45, cancer took her life. Thirty years
on, her friends have finished her project as homage to her and as a gift to all
of us. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SofhhjMid5s/VQSlDru9JFI/AAAAAAAACIA/tAkxnrmAaoI/s1600/New%2BDoc_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SofhhjMid5s/VQSlDru9JFI/AAAAAAAACIA/tAkxnrmAaoI/s1600/New%2BDoc_1.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Me 30 years ago, while studying Arabic in Morocco<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qUt5A6E3ty0/VQSlEztYZBI/AAAAAAAACII/W4UYBqjWG64/s1600/_DSC3221%2Bcopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qUt5A6E3ty0/VQSlEztYZBI/AAAAAAAACII/W4UYBqjWG64/s1600/_DSC3221%2Bcopy.JPG" height="363" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me now</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-86350534543014582552014-08-03T23:31:00.000+01:002014-08-03T23:31:57.249+01:00THE UNDERWATER ARCHEOLOGIST<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dThT5jODl4/U96fjBLhQmI/AAAAAAAAB8o/Dv7q4w5GMF0/s1600/_1400317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2dThT5jODl4/U96fjBLhQmI/AAAAAAAAB8o/Dv7q4w5GMF0/s1600/_1400317.JPG" height="462" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">A few years ago I read a novel called ‘What I Was’
with my third year students. It was a book for teenagers, a coming-of-age tale
set in East Anglia, the story of the friendship between two very different boys
in the 1960s. I don’t remember much of the plot, but there is a passage that
got engraved in my mind: the two boys are rowing on a boat on a clear Easter
day; the sea is calm and they can see the remains of a lost medieval city underwater.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-usOq_8d-16g/U96f9h2WY3I/AAAAAAAAB8w/jCSsgmfOudw/s1600/_1400020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-usOq_8d-16g/U96f9h2WY3I/AAAAAAAAB8w/jCSsgmfOudw/s1600/_1400020.JPG" height="374" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The sea is actually one of the protagonists of the
book and the story reaches its climax during a storm that floods the cabin
where one of the boys lives. Thirty years on, it will also have claimed the
hateful school where the other protagonist felt like a prisoner. The beach
where most of the action takes place is a place full of mystery – cold and
menacing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">When I read this book I wondered whether this place
was real or just a product of the imagination of Meg Rosoff, its author. I
recently discovered the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CpFwLB0j5rw/U96gSr06cbI/AAAAAAAAB84/AsZro2agbTY/s1600/_1400232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CpFwLB0j5rw/U96gSr06cbI/AAAAAAAAB84/AsZro2agbTY/s1600/_1400232.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">A few weeks ago Pam invited us to spend a few days in
Suffolk. She and her family have a cottage in a very small village, Walpole,
and she suggested that we could stay there and use their bicycles to move
around the region and discover its treasures. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MNfnbcvbZ1o/U96yMdRTBmI/AAAAAAAAB-E/hANBP6Es8ik/s1600/_1400262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MNfnbcvbZ1o/U96yMdRTBmI/AAAAAAAAB-E/hANBP6Es8ik/s1600/_1400262.JPG" height="370" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tug of war in Walberswick</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There are plenty of cycling
routes, and on the first day we embarked on a seven-hour trip that took us as
far as Framlingham, where we finally stopped to have a beer in the pub near the
station.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IVHufJSqIpk/U96ghGZfA_I/AAAAAAAAB9A/_8v1JM2ZvtY/s1600/_1390777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IVHufJSqIpk/U96ghGZfA_I/AAAAAAAAB9A/_8v1JM2ZvtY/s1600/_1390777.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">On this first excursion we went through yellow fields and green woods,
passing almost inhabited places with a church in the middle of nowhere. On the
second day, however, we decided to set towards the coast. We had been told
about a mysterious town called Dunwich and immediately I knew it was the place
the book talked about.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kfgszELLBJQ/U962dla0-6I/AAAAAAAAB-g/1xA-y5lxACM/s1600/ruinas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kfgszELLBJQ/U962dla0-6I/AAAAAAAAB-g/1xA-y5lxACM/s1600/ruinas.JPG" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Dunwich was the capital of the Anglo Saxon kingdom of
East Angles. It was an international harbour and in the 13</span><sup style="font-family: Arial;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> century
it had eight churches and about five thousand inhabitants. Between 1286 and
1362 a series of storm surges (or meteotsunamis) destroyed most of the harbour
and the town. In the 19</span><sup style="font-family: Arial;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> century there were less than 250
inhabitants and only one of the churches remained, the one that was claimed by
the sea between 1908 and 1919. Nowadays, Dunwich is just a couple of streets
and it has only 50 inhabitants. However, it’s still a town, not a village. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8iVqoKPfrfM/U96vq-qfG4I/AAAAAAAAB9Y/qEgoCgTRgho/s1600/_1390949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8iVqoKPfrfM/U96vq-qfG4I/AAAAAAAAB9Y/qEgoCgTRgho/s1600/_1390949.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There’s a museum and a cafe on the beach, where you can have the typical fish
and chips or drink a cup of coffee before going for a walk along the cliff (you
are warned to be careful, because its edge may collapse into the beach when you
expect it the least). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HrQ9WtEW47Y/U96v6k67fbI/AAAAAAAAB9g/1PAbIqe22R8/s1600/_1390850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HrQ9WtEW47Y/U96v6k67fbI/AAAAAAAAB9g/1PAbIqe22R8/s1600/_1390850.JPG" height="456" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The cliff eventually leads to a wood that hides the
remains of the Greyfriars priory. What really impressed me the most was the
lack of people around, even in the middle of July, the absolute silence only
broken by the cries of the birds coming from the nearby marshes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjwqKqk4swI/U96wGwewZ4I/AAAAAAAAB9o/DC7qJITBwIw/s1600/_1390881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjwqKqk4swI/U96wGwewZ4I/AAAAAAAAB9o/DC7qJITBwIw/s1600/_1390881.JPG" height="332" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Going back to the beach, the weather suddenly changed
and it started to rain. It felt so different from the scorching sandy
extensions full of holidaymakers of Southern Spain (I must confess I have
always hated going to the beach in Malaga: too much sand, too much heat, too
much noise). Here, in this desolate landscape I felt I could walk forever. The
rain stopped eventually and we started moving towards the marshes, following
the opposite direction. First we came across a family who were brave enough to
adventure themselves into the sea (we had brought our swimsuits but we found
the sea too menacing and turbulent). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Later on we came across a man standing next to a
fishing rod. His daughter, a twelve-year old girl was lying comfortably inside
a bivouac, drawing pictures on a notebook. They told us that the weather was
nice enough to spend the night on the beach. Maybe they expected to listen to
the bells of the churches of the ghost town, as the legend says. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">We continued our silent walk. The prevailing colour
was brown: you could see it in the sea and in the stones, different shades that
combined with the traditional white, black and grey. The only noise was the one
from the sea and the crushing sound of the pebbles under our shoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Walking along this barren place, I thought it could
very well become a metaphor of the dementia process. This condition is
progressive and it erodes not only your memory but y<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">our capacity to communicate
and do everyday activities. However, the person with dementia is still a
person. All the features that define them are still there, but in a submerged
form.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Last Tuesday we had dinner with Anita Berlin in a
really nice place near the Thames. Anita told us about all the different
projects she has in mind to give shape to the history of her family. Anita’s
mother, Carmen, who lives with Alzheimer’s, has an amazing history. To give you
just an example, she was one of the persons who were saved by Angel Sanz-Briz,
the Angel of Budapest, during the II World War. Anita has the original
documents. She also has a little diary she found recently, which contains a
list of books, some of them crossed out. Carmen, who spoke four languages and
had a passion for words, can no longer speak. This little notebook will allow
Anita to discover more about her mother through the books she read or wanted to
read.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Marine archaeologists have managed to reconstruct the
map of the old city of Dunwich. Anita is also an archaeologist of submerged
treasures. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Photography: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-90423883385695833542014-07-20T17:05:00.002+01:002014-07-20T23:02:08.509+01:00PRIDE AND FREEDOM IN LONDON<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I recently attended a performance of Titus Andronicus at the Globe Theatre in London as part of the social programme we had organized for the European partners of the Remembering Yesterday Caring Today Training project who attended the symposium. </div>
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This is one of Shakespeare’s bloodiest productions. It narrates a series of barbaric events that culminate in a banquet where a woman is tricked into eating a pie made with her own sons’ flesh. Rape, mutilation, physical and psychological torture and murder are offered to the spectators in such a stark way that it makes some people feel physically sick. </div>
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I had been warned about the negative reviews this production had received because of its sensationalistic use of violence, an attempt to make a Tarantino-like version of Shakespeare. Actually, there wasn’t so much blood – it was theatre after all. What really shocked me was a scene when a girl is found in the woods by her uncle after having been savagely raped, tortured and maimed. It wasn’t what you could actually see, but the look of madness in the young woman’s face. This reminded me of a performance of the ‘Vagina Monologues’ I saw a few years ago in which one of the actresses reflects on the fate of the thousands of women who were systematically raped during the Bosnian-Serbian war of the 1990s.</div>
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Later on in the play, the girl’s father asks the emperor if a parent should kill a daughter that has been raped. The emperor answers that he should, so he murders her in order to save his honour. It’s chilling to think about how often I have heard the same story in the news in the last few years. </div>
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Has humanity changed so little? Yesterday I was in the underground station and I read an announcement of Amnesty International asking people to sign a petition to save a teenage boy from being hanged. His crime? Being gay. </div>
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Fortunately, there are moments when you can see a silver lining in such a bleak panorama. On the same day I attended the performance of Titus Andronicus, I was walking up Whitehall with a group of people who had come to London from all over Europe. When we reached the monument that commemorates the fallen in the wars, we came across a parade of members of the three services of the armed forces. </div>
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As soon as this celebration finished, members of the police moved some fences and the floats of the Pride in London parade took over. In seconds, the sound of the army boots were substituted by the songs of Gloria Gaynor and other divas and the choreographies of topless muscular men and drag queens followed the same route that had been covered by the army march a few minutes before. </div>
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This is one of the things I love about this city, the rich mixture of ways of living and the opportunity to express yourself and live the life of your choice. </div>
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I leave you with the photos Lorenzo took during in Pride in London celebration in Trafalgar Square, one of my favourite places in London.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lorenzo takes a break from photography in Trafalgar Square<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I just caught the London eye celebrating Gay Pride with my mobile</td></tr>
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Photography: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-62330484923215946902014-07-03T15:02:00.002+01:002014-07-03T15:02:49.425+01:00BACK IN LONDON<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6-YrIPE5gdI/U7Va779uT0I/AAAAAAAAB3w/ncVCHBSAg5c/s1600/_DSC8295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6-YrIPE5gdI/U7Va779uT0I/AAAAAAAAB3w/ncVCHBSAg5c/s1600/_DSC8295.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drama workshop at the RYCT Reminiscence in Dementia Care Symposium</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; text-align: justify;">After spending a month in Malaga working at the
Official School of Languages in Fuengirola, I am back in London. Going back to
my old life in Spain wasn’t as hard as I expected. It was weird to meet my
students on the last week of classes, but the teacher who had been standing in
for me, Tamara, was such an amazing professional that she made the transition
really smooth. After a couple of days I felt as if I had never left my post. It
was also really nice to discover that many of my old students had been
following this blog and had been connected to me somehow throughout the year.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Living at my mum’s was great: she and her partner,
Julian, spoilt me rotten and I must say that I have never eaten so much “jamón
serrano” in my life. They live far from my school and I have spent a long time
commuting to work, but I also had a delicious sandwich in my bag. Travelling by
train wasn’t that bad after all, I spent the time doing useful things such as
reading Anita Berlin’s wonderful account of how her grandfather arrived in
Spain or writing my contribution for the forthcoming symposium Remembering
Yesterday Caring Today. Reminiscence in Dementia Care”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">However, life has been far from relaxing. I left in
the morning and came back almost at midnight. To make matters worse, my
permission to come back to London to help at the symposium wasn’t properly
applied for and it wasn’t clear whether I would get it until the very last
minute. Finally, I was given the green light to come to London less than 24
hours before my flight was supposed to take off. I was sighing with relief when
I was told that my flight had been cancelled due to the French air controllers’
strike. It was 19:00 and I had to be in London the next day. The airline I was
booked in could not offer me a place in the next 48 hours and I would miss the symposium.
My colleague Paul helped me find another flight with another company.
Fortunately, this one wasn’t cancelled. I travelled all night and I arrived
just in time for the conference. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Again, going back to my life in London was really
easy (I must have become a very flexible person). After a few hours, I felt I
had never left. Fortunately, Sue Heiser and a group of wonderful people (I
can’t mention all of them now, but I am extremely thankful to them) had helped
Pam in the last legs of the conference preparations.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Most of the members of the European Reminiscence
Network have worked together in the framework of a Grundtvig Learning
Partnership (Remembering Yesterday, Caring Today) during the last two years.
This symposium was the culmination of this project. Delegates from all over
Europe (The Czech Republic, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Ireland, Northern
Ireland Poland, Slovakia, Spain) joined specialists from all over the UK to
share experiences and ideas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--sZ2_bOvD3o/U7VaNlBnuGI/AAAAAAAAB3U/UyAXW9mWAlE/s1600/_DSC8262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--sZ2_bOvD3o/U7VaNlBnuGI/AAAAAAAAB3U/UyAXW9mWAlE/s1600/_DSC8262.JPG" height="408" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josep Vilar and Duna Ulsamer give their presentation on the impact of RYCT on staffs and residents in the care home context</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">What was the symposium about? Well, Sally Knocker,
summarised it very well in her introductory talk. First, she asked the audience
to choose three pieces of information they would use to define themselves. Some
people chose things related to their work, hobbies, family, personality...
Then, Sally explained that when you are diagnosed with dementia, this is the
only thing people see in you; all of a sudden, the rest of your defining
features disappear.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_gFA0w4te_w/U7VbNhZ5u8I/AAAAAAAAB30/TtC_o904E8A/s1600/_DSC8272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_gFA0w4te_w/U7VbNhZ5u8I/AAAAAAAAB30/TtC_o904E8A/s1600/_DSC8272.JPG" height="548" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Slovak team led a series of activities on the use of visual arts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The day was packed with workshops focused on the
experience and needs of participants with dementia, the impact of “Remembering
Yesterday Caring Today” in the care home context, the needs of family carers,
the use of drama, music and the visual arts in the RYCT sessions, and how to
work towards an artistic product, training and evaluation. All these workshops
had a common goal: to focus on the person, not the patient. Artists met social
workers, care home managers, specialists in dementia, writers, family carers
and persons with dementia who have made different contributions to the RYCT
project according to their own skills.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qekjMXL_hqI/U7VexoAPvRI/AAAAAAAAB5M/s4XbHesn2xc/s1600/_DSC8307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qekjMXL_hqI/U7VexoAPvRI/AAAAAAAAB5M/s4XbHesn2xc/s1600/_DSC8307.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drama activity led by Pam Schweitzer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The day went by like a dream and I would like to
share with you a few moments, illustrated by Lorenzo’s wonderful photos: the
participants of the drama workshop lying on the floor reproducing the frozen
image of a holiday, the people who joined the visual arts workshop writing and
drawing on the paper-covered walls, Anita Berlin looking at the series of
portraits that her son Alex had made of her father Ludwig, Josep and Duna
talking about the impact of the project in the care home context... Of course I
missed a lot. I wish I could have been everywhere, but you can get a taste of
the exciting atmosphere of the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IAHDiWqQJEc/U7VatOI_CBI/AAAAAAAAB3k/KDMNEudlMmM/s1600/_DSC8317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IAHDiWqQJEc/U7VatOI_CBI/AAAAAAAAB3k/KDMNEudlMmM/s1600/_DSC8317.JPG" height="398" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anita Berlin looking at her father's portrait</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">We had lunch in the beautiful hall of the town hall
in Woolwich (Pam managed to convince them not to move us to the basement, even
if we were almost 100 people), and we had the “official” group photo on the
impressive staircase, one of the landmarks of the building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7arPBXrm5Nw/U7VbfV9RlAI/AAAAAAAAB38/kE-h5FhfRqU/s1600/_DSC8328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7arPBXrm5Nw/U7VbfV9RlAI/AAAAAAAAB38/kE-h5FhfRqU/s1600/_DSC8328.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner at the Town Hall in Woolwich</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">One of the pluses of this symposium was the
outstanding theatre performances we enjoyed during the day. The first one was
“Going Back”, the new reminiscence show by Eastern Angles, which tells the life
story of Sid, a 94-year-old veteran and his wife Hettie throughout the 20<sup>th</sup>
century. This was a brilliantly performed show in which I would highlight the
amazing choreography and use of sound effects. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kfLuFYlLDDI/U7Vb1o_DKpI/AAAAAAAAB4I/PXQe9nIHl-M/s1600/_DSC8352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kfLuFYlLDDI/U7Vb1o_DKpI/AAAAAAAAB4I/PXQe9nIHl-M/s1600/_DSC8352.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pam Schweitzer and Jon Tavener (director) converse before the Eastern Angles show </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cIu5qhsZt0U/U7Vb5UQFN-I/AAAAAAAAB4U/ECH8hZOhJbI/s1600/_DSC8383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cIu5qhsZt0U/U7Vb5UQFN-I/AAAAAAAAB4U/ECH8hZOhJbI/s1600/_DSC8383.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Going Back" by Eastern Angles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The second performance was Wioleta Pietrasik’s homage
to her grandma, who lived with Alzheimer’s during the last years of her life. This
intimate piece was developed by the actress herself with the help of Pam
Schweitzer. I loved the mixture of Polish and English and the humorous use of
body language. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DgoRapdoI5I/U7Vb5aYVF1I/AAAAAAAAB4Y/P3qrQ4Ksgwc/s1600/_DSC8400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DgoRapdoI5I/U7Vb5aYVF1I/AAAAAAAAB4Y/P3qrQ4Ksgwc/s1600/_DSC8400.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wioleta Pietrasik shows how her mother used to stir the mashed potatoes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">There was also an exclusive one-to-one performance by
Clare McManus, “Tread Softly”, which took place in the kitchen, but only ten
people could attend it and I wasn’t one of the lucky ones.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I had to speak at the end of the day, during the
launching of the Reminiscence Theatre Archive, so I expected that by the time
my turn arrived, everybody would have fled or would be half asleep out of
exhaustion. To make matters worse, there was a break for “wine” right before my
speech. Amazingly, everybody enjoyed my presentation (maybe it was the wine). I
guess my life had been such a rollercoaster for the last seven days that I was
too tired to get nervous. Actually, I really enjoyed sharing my enthusiasm
about the hidden treasures of the archive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">To finish this entry, I would like to thank all the
European members of the network for their support and appreciation. I met most
of them in Poznan in October, when I had just arrived here, and now it’s great
to see them at the end of this project. They are great professionals and
wonderful persons as well. This is the end of one of their learning
partnerships and the beginning of a new one, this time led by the very capable Catalan
team. Pam knows that the future of the network is in good hands.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Du8dIhdL8-E/U7VdVuBvkRI/AAAAAAAAB4w/f52TOXASWms/s1600/_DSC8421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Du8dIhdL8-E/U7VdVuBvkRI/AAAAAAAAB4w/f52TOXASWms/s1600/_DSC8421.JPG" height="474" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mark, Duna and Josep enjoy their meal at Pam's</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0AgdlBT4R1c/U7Vd3otHRdI/AAAAAAAAB5E/BWPcAnkuZyg/s1600/_DSC8550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0AgdlBT4R1c/U7Vd3otHRdI/AAAAAAAAB5E/BWPcAnkuZyg/s1600/_DSC8550.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Petr Veleta shows his dancing skills to the group</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">P.S. The next day Pam invited all the European
partners to have dinner at her house and relax after two days of hard work. The
food was delicious and the atmosphere was lively and warm. Each country was
invited to sing a song and the Spanish team chose “Eva Mª se fue buscando el
sol en la playa”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XWGWJ9AohD4/U7VcVNBTsGI/AAAAAAAAB4g/VzkY2OZQmrI/s1600/_DSC8531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XWGWJ9AohD4/U7VcVNBTsGI/AAAAAAAAB4g/VzkY2OZQmrI/s1600/_DSC8531.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably not the best song of the night, but we enjoyed it</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p> Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/" target="_blank">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></o:p></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-46697490643746398512014-05-26T00:10:00.000+01:002014-05-26T00:10:50.015+01:00REFLECTIONS ON WRITING<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rzSILXIL-Os/U4J3LBGJilI/AAAAAAAAB04/1PsmaC_Vl_w/s1600/Marta+blog-hog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rzSILXIL-Os/U4J3LBGJilI/AAAAAAAAB04/1PsmaC_Vl_w/s1600/Marta+blog-hog.JPG" height="388" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">On my last night in London a friend from California,
the writer Julia Halprin Jackson, urges me to face the ultimate challenge: to
participate in a blog-hop in which a series writers give away the little
secrets of their trade by answering a few questions. Being a rookie in the
writing world, I feel really honoured to have been selected to join this project.
I met Julia in 2006, when she was working as a language assistant in a primary
school near Fuengirola. At the time I was leading a bilingual drama workshop
with a wonderful Spanish teacher, Pilar Andújar, and soon Julia became one of
our main assets. I will always remember her with her little notebook, writing
down all the words and expressions that came up in our conversations. We have
been in touch since then and she has been a constant collaborator of <a href="http://www.collagethemagazine.com/" target="_blank">COLLAGEmagazine</a> (watch out for our next memory issue, she has contributed with a most
amazing story in which she pays homage to her grandmother, Amah). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Julia is an accomplished writer: her work has appeared
in West Branch Wired, California Northern, Fourteen Hills, Flatmancrooked,
Sacramento News & Review, Fictionade, Fiction365, Catalyst and Spectrum, as
well as selected anthologies. Julia has been awarded scholarships from the
Tomales Bay Writer’s Workshops and the Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, and
earned an M.A. in Creative Writing (fiction) from UC Davis. She lives in
Northern California with Ryan, her fiance, where she co-founded and co-curates
<a href="http://playonwordssj.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Play On Words</a>, a collaborative literary performance series. And on top of all
this, she’s working on her first novel, which is set in Southern Spain. You can
learn more about julia at <a href="http://juliahalprinjackson.com/">http://juliahalprinjackson.com</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">So here’s my little contribution to this blog-hop:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>What am I working on?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">This year in London has been a source of inspiration.
I began this blog as part of my project for the European Commission and what
started like a sort of “obligation” has become a real pleasure. Thus, even if
my Grundtvig assistantship expires today, my intention is to carry on adding
entries to this blog. Apart from this, I have been in charge of editing and
coordinating the next issue of <a href="http://www.collagethemagazine.com/" target="_blank">COLLAGE magazine</a>, which is devoted to the topic
of memory and will come out at the end of this month. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Also, I have several projects in mind. One of them is
to write the texts that will accompany a book containing the amazing
photographs that my partner, <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/" target="_blank">Lorenzo Hernández</a>, has taken all throughout this
year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Lorenzo has always encouraged me to write, but I
never knew what to write about. Now, all of a sudden, my head is full of
stories and characters that are waiting to be put into paper. I don’t really
know where this will lead to, but I am really looking forward to embark myself
into this adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>How is my work different than others in its genre?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I’d say that it’s probably the fact that all what I
write is intimately connected to Lorenzo’s photography. His images are always
my source of inspiration, although I wouldn’t say that they rule absolutely
what I write. I start with the photos and then my imagination runs free. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Having said this, I must admit that Lorenzo’s way of
looking at the world through his camera, his personal view, the way he makes
the most mundane things beautiful and poetic, rubs off on me a little bit. We
spend most of our time talking, we started a conversation almost twenty years
ago and we haven’t run out of topics yet, and I think all this food for though
must show up in what I write. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>How does my writing process work? </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">This is a question
that has always fascinated me. Do writers know how their stories finish before
they start writing or do they find out as they go? Years ago I asked this
question to a very dear friend, the Irish writer Siobhan Galvin. She had
written two one-thousand-page novels while raising three children and she told
me that she used to write every day from 12pm to 13.30, once she had finished
tidying up her house and before picking up the kids from school. She never new
what she was going to write, it was as if the different characters told her
what was going to happen next. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">My case is the opposite. I need to have a structure
in my head, a scaffolding that I flesh out in several drafts. Like Julia, I
like leaving the text to rest and go back to it a few days later. Sometimes I
erase everything and start all over again because when I wake up in the morning
I suddenly have a much better structure in my head. With the blog I know the
topic I am going to write about, I have the images, but I can’t start working
until I have this structure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>Why do I write what I do?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Because once I have managed to finish a piece of
writing, the pleasure is immense. I have always loved the ends that promise a
new beginning, like the new friendship in Casablanca. For me writing is this
new beginning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I have asked three blogger friends to
carry the torch: Gloria García Ordóñez, who works as a coach, reflects about
life and the human nature in her blog;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;">José Manuel Cruz Barragán leads a “double
life” as an economist and film critic; </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">and Joaquín García Weil is a philosopher
and yoga teacher. I admire the three of them and I would like to thank them for
joining me in this adventure. Their blogs are in Spanish, so I’ll leave their
biographies in this language.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>JOSÉ MANUEL CRUZ BARRAGÁN</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w4cLzHzW_d8/U4J3MKRig7I/AAAAAAAAB1E/QPZjuWQd4b4/s1600/IMG_2293-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w4cLzHzW_d8/U4J3MKRig7I/AAAAAAAAB1E/QPZjuWQd4b4/s1600/IMG_2293-20.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Sevillano de nacimiento y malagueño de
adopción. Aunque mi titulación dice que soy Licenciado en Económicas y Master
en Administración de Empresas, al mismo tiempo también me apasionan el cine y
la literatura. De acuerdo con ello, llevo una "doble" vida en que,
por un lado, soy consultor empresarial y asesor financiero independiente y, por
otro, soy escritor. En 2013, publiqué mi primera novela, Sin tregua se
consumían nuestros ojos, que, espero, tenga continuación en breve. Actualmente,
soy el autor de dos blogs: uno de economía, EL DEDO EN EL DATO (<a href="http://eldedoeneldato.blogspot.com.es/">http://eldedoeneldato.blogspot.com.es</a>)
y otro de cine, EL ESPECTADOR IMPERTINENTE (<a href="http://elespectadorimpertinente.blogspot.com.es/">http://elespectadorimpertinente.blogspot.com.es</a>).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b>GLORIA GARCÍA ORDÓÑEZ</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0L3xI5VJ60/U4J3N5zGamI/AAAAAAAAB1M/_Xlm1nUNmfo/s1600/esplinGo-coaching-Gloria-Garci%25CC%2581a-Ordo%25CC%2581n%25CC%2583ez.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U0L3xI5VJ60/U4J3N5zGamI/AAAAAAAAB1M/_Xlm1nUNmfo/s1600/esplinGo-coaching-Gloria-Garci%25CC%2581a-Ordo%25CC%2581n%25CC%2583ez.jpg" height="310" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Cordo-malagueña, filóloga, formadora y
coach. Anglófila, bebedora de té, practicante de yoga y entusiasta del vino
tinto. Me encanta leer al sol, ver películas, reunirme con mi familia y quedar
con mis amigos. Si es alrededor de una cerveza bien fría y de un plato enorme
de buen jamón ibérico, mejor que mejor. Disfruto de mis momentos de llanto y
aún más de los de risas. Creo que la Vida es increíblemente hermosa y que el
dolor es sólo un amigo que trae un mensaje en la mochila. Tengo a la Muerte
presente cada día y lo que me mueve es seguir camino mirando hacia adentro,
conectando con el otro, aprendiendo y creciendo. Escribir es para mí una
auto-terapia primero, y a través de mis reflexiones, nacidas de mi aprendizaje,
quiero pensar que puedo aportar algo para que otras personas también avancen en
su proceso de auto-descubrimiento. Escribo sobre la vida y sobre el ser humano,
desde una perspectiva integradora y sistémica y dentro del marco respetuoso y
ecológico que me aporta el coaching<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://www.esplingo.com/blog">http://www.esplingo.com/blog</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b>JOAQUÍN GARCÍA WEIL</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-unYeaHw4cLA/U4J3PAUxvRI/AAAAAAAAB1U/pB2dtn95ncQ/s1600/Joaquin-Garcia-Weil-por-Vito-Ruiz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-unYeaHw4cLA/U4J3PAUxvRI/AAAAAAAAB1U/pB2dtn95ncQ/s1600/Joaquin-Garcia-Weil-por-Vito-Ruiz.jpg" height="320" width="220" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Joaquín García Weil, Licenciado en Filosofía,
practica Yoga desde hace veinte años y lo enseña desde hace once. Es alumno del
Swami Rudradev (discípulo destacado de Iyengar), con quien ha aprendido en el
Yoga Study Center, Rishikesh, India. También ha estudiado con el Dr. Vagish
Sastri de Benarés, entre otros maestros. Ha colaborado en Psicología Práctica,
Yoga Journal (versión española) y la Revista Dharma. Ha fundado y dirige
YogaSala Málaga, centro de yoga y meditación, donde enseña estas disciplinas.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://yogasala.blogspot.com.es/">http://yogasala.blogspot.com.es</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-50743239634181842602014-05-11T21:47:00.002+01:002014-05-11T21:47:21.039+01:00AN UNCONFORTABLE TRUTH<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LSYHE507vUU/U2_gUSn7q2I/AAAAAAAABzg/txES1T5QKso/s1600/Mati+and+daughters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LSYHE507vUU/U2_gUSn7q2I/AAAAAAAABzg/txES1T5QKso/s1600/Mati+and+daughters.jpg" height="388" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mati and daughters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">A few years ago Lorenzo photographed a
mother and two daughters for his “generations” series. Even if the daughters
were in the summit of their beauty, it was the mother, who was in her mid
seventies, who stood out. She had this star quality that reminded everyone of
the actress Geraldine Chaplin. However, when she saw herself in the portrait,
she hated it and she said she didn’t know she looked so old. His daughter, who
had commissioned the portrait, displayed it in her apartment, nonetheless. It
was not until dozens of people had praised the photo that she started to
appreciate it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">This is not news for Lorenzo; we have
learned to accept that people feel uncomfortable when seeing their portraits
for the first time. We also know that they will eventually grow to love them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_p_anaZ9yk/U2_gWWNyuyI/AAAAAAAABzo/xSjNlO4Bnjc/s1600/Les+Femmes+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_p_anaZ9yk/U2_gWWNyuyI/AAAAAAAABzo/xSjNlO4Bnjc/s1600/Les+Femmes+%25286%2529.jpg" height="640" width="406" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mati modelling for Lorenzo in Dior</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I recently listened to a radio interview
with the legendary photographer David Bailey, who is currently showing a
retrospective of his work at the National Portrait Gallery, and it gave me food
for thought. It did not surprise me to learn that the same happens to him. He
said that he loves it when someone who poses for him hates the portrait and
then, twenty years later, his wife phones saying: “Do you remember that photo
you took of my husband? It’s the best portrait he’s ever had. Could we have a
copy now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n7R2IOXNbJk/U2_garF-96I/AAAAAAAABzw/PRoSjvvJN6I/s1600/Michael+Caine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n7R2IOXNbJk/U2_garF-96I/AAAAAAAABzw/PRoSjvvJN6I/s1600/Michael+Caine.JPG" height="640" width="388" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael Caine's famous portrait opens David Bailey's Exhibition in London</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Bailey tells us an anecdote about Picasso
and Gertrude Stein. When she saw her portrait, she said: “ I don’t look like
that!” and Picasso retorted: “You will”. A good portrait shows your real self,
the one that naturally emerges throughout the years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">In 1999 Bailey was photographing the
singer Marianne Faithful. She was in her underwear in the process of changing
clothes when he said: “Don’t move. This is the picture.” She was 53 and she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">looked</i> 53, which is one of the things I
love about her. He told her that he wanted to show the world that she was “Marianne
Faithful” and didn’t give a monkey’s about what people thought. He took two
pictures. In one of them she was serious; in the other one she was laughing.
She hated the second one. It was not the fact that the photo showed her mature
body; in this sense both photos were identical. It was the grin, with a hint of
madness, which upset her. The second photo somehow announced the decadence of
the mind, something that terrifies all of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">It’s easy to please a model: a little bit
of photo editing and you are as good as new. It requires boldness to show the
poser’s inner self. It also demands the gift to connect with the person that
hides behind the mask. Bailey said that doing a portrait is a mode of
communication. I cannot agree more. Lorenzo does exactly the same: he talks to
the model and clicks, and that’s the picture. He doesn’t need to think about
what he’s going to do, it just happens. He says it’s as if it was the
unconscious that took the picture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">It’s funny to think that men normally
accept this sort of exposure more than women. I wonder why. I am a bit like
Marianne Faithful. I have no problems with him photographing my body, but it
takes me a while to see my face as it is reflected by the camera. I always look
too anxious. Again, this is a reflection of my character: I worry too much. On
the other hand, when I look at the first portraits he took of me, I really like
what I see, and I have come to accept that this is what will happen to the
current ones, eventually. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">In a world where digital cameras and photo
editing software have made photography accessible to everybody, where it’s so
easy to show who you would like to be, not who you are, we really need artists
who have the bravery and the talent to reveal people’s inner selves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">You can visit David Bailey’s Stardust at
the National Portrait Gallery until 1<sup>st</sup> June 2014. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">You can listen to Tim Marlow interviewing David
Bailey for BBC radio at: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b03phd4f/Getting_the_Picture_The_Camera_Has_Attitudes/"><span style="font-family: Arial;">http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b03phd4f/Getting_the_Picture_The_Camera_Has_Attitudes/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">To see Picasso’s portrait of Gertrude Stein click
<a href="http://circulodepoesia.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/Gertrude-Stein-por-Picasso.jpg" target="_blank">here</a></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">To see David Bailey’s portrait of Marianne Faithful,
click <a href="http://www.thetimes.co.uk/tto/multimedia/archive/00504/NPGbatch2094_a_a_504992b.jpg" target="_blank">here</a> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Photography: Lorenzohernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-9207188985003469182014-05-03T22:36:00.001+01:002014-05-03T22:36:19.537+01:00A SONG LIKE A RIVER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; text-align: justify;">A few days ago, Lorenzo found a small jewel in Televisión Española’s website, a programme devoted to a song I used to listen to when I was about twenty, Gabinete Caligari’s </span><i style="font-family: Arial; text-align: justify;">Camino Soria </i><span style="font-family: Arial; text-align: justify;">(</span><i style="font-family: Arial; text-align: justify;">The Way To Soria).</i><span style="font-family: Arial; text-align: justify;"> In this programme the presenter, Juan Carlos Ortega, offers us a delightful twenty-minute piece of reminiscence. As he tracks the history of the song, he embarks on a personal journey: he recognizes places he used to visit, remembers a girl who rejected him, and he even meets one of my generation’s national heroes, the legendary National Radio DJ Jesús Ordovás.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SpDMPLzj8NI/U2VevB-HXyI/AAAAAAAABw8/FfZvnWzPspM/s1600/_DSC6306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SpDMPLzj8NI/U2VevB-HXyI/AAAAAAAABw8/FfZvnWzPspM/s1600/_DSC6306.JPG" height="410" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Ordovás accurately defines <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Camino Soria</i> as a song-river, because it’s like a flow that carries
you downhill. It tells the story of a man who has been abandoned by the woman
he loves and decides to embark on a journey to Soria, a small town on the banks
of the River Duero in the cold lands of Castilla. Soria has strong links with
the poets Machado and Becquer, but Gabinete’s lead singer, Jaime Urrutia, confesses
that they chose the name because it rhymed with history (historia), glory
(gloria) and memory (memoir). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The programme ends with Juan Carlos and Jaime sitting
together on a wooden bench next to the river Duero. Jaime takes the guitar he
has been carrying the entire journey out of its case and starts strumming the
chords, singing the first lines of the song. Juan Carlos joins him. They sing
slightly out of key and Jaime sometimes forgets the chords, but Juan Carlo’s
face reflects the joy of reminiscence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ud2orI8VTk/U2VfdKl0Y6I/AAAAAAAABxM/93Zww6D5xsI/s1600/_DSC6334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ud2orI8VTk/U2VfdKl0Y6I/AAAAAAAABxM/93Zww6D5xsI/s1600/_DSC6334.JPG" height="434" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">A few weeks ago I had a similar experience along
Regent’s Canal. This is one of the most enjoyable walks in London. It was a day
that announced spring, the sun was shining brightly for the first time in
months and there was an atmosphere of anticipation. We started near King’s
Cross, next to the site of Central Saint Martins, one of the best arts and
design schools in the world. The building is located in a square covered with
little fountains that throw jets of water into the air. There was a group of
children in their swimsuits jumping about with contagious thrill. On the
terraces that lead to the canal groups of young people were basking in the
early spring sun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yWEKiItinss/U2VfvuK_XBI/AAAAAAAABxU/q396gezhchc/s1600/_DSC6319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yWEKiItinss/U2VfvuK_XBI/AAAAAAAABxU/q396gezhchc/s1600/_DSC6319.JPG" height="408" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Our walk along the Canal was like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Camino Soria</i>; we just went with the flow
and observed what we found along the way: we came across a young man who had
prepared a barbeque receiving his first guest, several couples holding hands, a
group of boys having a row under one of the bridges... There were houses whose
gardens led to the canal and barges where people lived. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WNJA1KoeR3Y/U2Vf9o0RhKI/AAAAAAAABxc/t2M3b50tp6c/s1600/_DSC6357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WNJA1KoeR3Y/U2Vf9o0RhKI/AAAAAAAABxc/t2M3b50tp6c/s1600/_DSC6357.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Some areas were busy
and noisy, like the stretch that crosses Camden Lock, and others were peaceful
and silent. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pxUUEj2Zjdk/U2VgJrC2hDI/AAAAAAAABxk/JJJliP7U3KA/s1600/_DSC6354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pxUUEj2Zjdk/U2VgJrC2hDI/AAAAAAAABxk/JJJliP7U3KA/s1600/_DSC6354.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">When we reached Regent’s Garden, we saw the back of the aviary from
the zoo and when we finally reached little Venice, we found a harbour full of
barges that looked like a little village. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dumDLCHxt54/U2VgSda_HvI/AAAAAAAABxs/KRvdiZvk7LY/s1600/_DSC6386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dumDLCHxt54/U2VgSda_HvI/AAAAAAAABxs/KRvdiZvk7LY/s1600/_DSC6386.JPG" height="640" width="420" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">We were about to reach the end of our walk, which lasted for more than four hours, when we came across a huge blackboard with the words “BEFORE I DIE...” written a hundred times. There were pieces of chalk for those who wanted to write a message. In the spur of the moment, I scrawled the first thing that came to my mind: “I want to meet Paul Weller”.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rxlNQ4VPzMo/U2VfRDzBqnI/AAAAAAAABxI/GRGSibCiCdA/s1600/_DSC6382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rxlNQ4VPzMo/U2VfRDzBqnI/AAAAAAAABxI/GRGSibCiCdA/s1600/_DSC6382.JPG" height="376" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">For me Paul Weller was the beginning of all. I was an
11-year-old when I listened to “Going Underground” for the first time. This
song was like an epiphany, a sudden realization that there was a world beyond
my little life in a town in Southern Spain in 1980. Music has played a key role
in my life since then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cBPwR9g5H4Y/U2Vg1RfKFHI/AAAAAAAABx0/Q8iKV6AJMXY/s1600/_DSC6399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cBPwR9g5H4Y/U2Vg1RfKFHI/AAAAAAAABx0/Q8iKV6AJMXY/s1600/_DSC6399.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">When we left the Canal in Little Venice, we walked
down the street, crossed it and... guess who was on the other side, holding the
hand of a little boy? Paul Weller. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">You can watch “La mitad invisible: Camino Soria” at </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/la-mitad-invisible/mitad-invisible-camino-soria/1629082/"><span style="font-family: Arial;">http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/la-mitad-invisible/mitad-invisible-camino-soria/1629082/</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">You can watch the video “Going Underground” at<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://youtu.be/AE1ct5yEuVY">http://youtu.be/AE1ct5yEuVY</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">By the way,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>do you recognize the poster in the background? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Photos: Lorenzohernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-7658127478525618012014-03-25T18:41:00.000+00:002014-08-16T22:00:33.536+01:00THE RANK STENCH OF THOSE BODIES<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UpN_jtHKbtM/UzCje5QPQvI/AAAAAAAABg0/KvAiIZ_Db7A/s1600/_1390256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UpN_jtHKbtM/UzCje5QPQvI/AAAAAAAABg0/KvAiIZ_Db7A/s1600/_1390256.JPG" height="406" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Detail of Charles Sergeant Jagger's "No Man's Land"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">At the beginning of November 2012 I had the
opportunity to attend the celebration of Remembrance Day at the English
Cemetery in Malaga, the oldest non-Roman Catholic Christian cemetery in
mainland Spain, and I must say it was an impressive experience to stand in
silence in the middle of the tombs covered with little white crosses and
wreaths made with poppies. Not many Spanish people know about this tradition,
which has its origin in the very end of World War I. The hostilities ended “at the
11<sup>th</sup> hour of the 11<sup>th</sup> day of the 11<sup>th</sup> month”
of 1918. Since 1919, a two-minute silence is held in Britain to pay homage to
those who died in that war and in subsequent conflicts. People also wear
poppies in their lapels, a tradition that has its origin in the poppies that
bloomed in the battlefields and the poem that John McCrae dedicated to them,
“In Flanders Fields”. </span><!--EndFragment--></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2PCCxf65Ng/UzCfgTBUUoI/AAAAAAAABfI/nO4deyAiiXc/s1600/malaga.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z2PCCxf65Ng/UzCfgTBUUoI/AAAAAAAABfI/nO4deyAiiXc/s1600/malaga.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">This year commemorates the centenary of the outbreak
of World War I, a tragedy that shaped the future of Modern Britain. Contrary to
other historical events, the spirit of this war is still alive and tangible in
this country, something that took me by surprise, as I hardly remembered the
list of dates and battles I had been fed in high school: le Somme, Ypres,
Gallipoli, Passchendaele… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">World War I started to take shape in my conscience as
something real, lived by real people, when I read this passage in Andrew Marr’s
“The Making of Modern Britain”, a description of the salient of Ypres by a
journalist, Philip Gibbs:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 35.4pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">“a
sea of red liquid mud composed of brick dust and bodies, bits of bodies, and
clots of blood, and green metallic-looking slime, made by explosive gasses...
Human flesh, rotting and stinking, mere pulp, was pasted into the mud-banks. If
they dug to get deeper cover, their shovels went into the softness of dead
bodies who had been their comrades. Scraps of flesh, booted legs, blackened
hands, eyeless heads, came falling over them when the enemy trench-mortared
their position.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I would like to illustrate this passage with a work
by Charles Sargeant Jagger,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a bronze frieze titled “No Man’s Land” which
shows a man hiding among the corpses of his comrades. You can find it at the
Tate Britain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hBrzQyRdKnI/UzCf1A3BIeI/AAAAAAAABfQ/YbItr_rJQ2c/s1600/_1390260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hBrzQyRdKnI/UzCf1A3BIeI/AAAAAAAABfQ/YbItr_rJQ2c/s1600/_1390260.JPG" height="256" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Then I watched the magnificent series of
documentaries by Jeremy Paxman “Britain’s Great War”, which gave me a new and
more human insight of this conflict: the memory of being shelled by German
boats in the middle of the night shared by a one hundred and five year old lady
who survived the Hartlepool raid at the age of seven; the posters of
Kitcheners’ appeal for volunteers that managed to recruit two and a half
million men for the British army; the doctor from New Zealand who restored the
facial injuries of disfigured soldiers and created the basis for modern plastic
surgery in a hospital in Sidcup, a short bus ride from where I live; how
Britain managed to face the shortage of manpower by involving women into the
war effort and how many of these women died of poisoning working in munitions;
the first conscientious objectors and the increasing gap between those who
fought the war and those who sent them to the trenches…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Let’s take a short walk around Central London and
find the traces the first modern conflict has left in this city. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HJOZpFjxzCo/UzCf-vhQDjI/AAAAAAAABfY/U04h7Siy7MQ/s1600/_DSC6156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HJOZpFjxzCo/UzCf-vhQDjI/AAAAAAAABfY/U04h7Siy7MQ/s1600/_DSC6156.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Our journey begins at the Cenotaph in Whitehall. It’s
a key landmark in the commemoration of the dead in the wars since 1919. On the
Sunday nearest to the 11<sup>th</sup> November a service is held, which is
attended by the Queen, religious leaders, politicians, and representatives of
the armed and auxiliary forces. The poppy wreaths that are deposited at the
base of this monument can still be seen months afterwards. The BBC has a very
interesting history section about World War I and there I learned that this
monument, whose name means “empty tomb” in Greek, was originally built in wood
and plaster, as it was intended to be used only at the 1919 Armistice Celebrations,
but it became so popular that they had to build a permanent one in 1920.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Today is a lovely day that announces the end of
winter and the street is full of colourful characters, like this group of men
dressed like ludo counters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hs2nvfPwdKg/UzCgRnHSElI/AAAAAAAABfg/5zpcs5JA87M/s1600/_DSC6180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hs2nvfPwdKg/UzCgRnHSElI/AAAAAAAABfg/5zpcs5JA87M/s1600/_DSC6180.JPG" height="243" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>However, as we walk up towards Trafalgar Square, we are reminded of
conflict once again. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h1a7zobfjjQ/UzCgbr1RlyI/AAAAAAAABfo/fO0WfMIsmvM/s1600/_DSC6172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h1a7zobfjjQ/UzCgbr1RlyI/AAAAAAAABfo/fO0WfMIsmvM/s1600/_DSC6172.JPG" height="325" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Not very far from the statue of Field Marshall Douglas
Haig, whose strategy led to the death of so many in the Western Front, we can
see a group of demonstrators trying to draw attention to the situation in
Venezuela. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L0c3a78Xfco/UzCgnb6pAKI/AAAAAAAABfw/mPOFqj4zZ80/s1600/_DSC6163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L0c3a78Xfco/UzCgnb6pAKI/AAAAAAAABfw/mPOFqj4zZ80/s1600/_DSC6163.JPG" height="311" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Next to them there is another group of protestors against the
invasion of Ucraine by Russian troops. Our walk cannot be more meaningful
today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ifMXWuzKYkI/UzCg0T9I43I/AAAAAAAABf4/cVlfphB1QOQ/s1600/_DSC6191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ifMXWuzKYkI/UzCg0T9I43I/AAAAAAAABf4/cVlfphB1QOQ/s1600/_DSC6191.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Trafalgar square is the next point in our pilgrimage.
If you had been here one hundred years ago, you would have seen placards
encouraging people to buy war bonds. You would even have seen a tank, one of
the main technological advances in British warfare, parked in the middle of the
square. And if you had been here during the celebrations after the Armistice,
you would have seen the Australian and Canadian troops making a bonfire with
these placards. In the final documentary of his series, Jeremy Paxman shows a
stone under Nelson’s column where you can still see the effects of this act of
patriotic vandalism. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-It6YNdlLBYc/UzChJleaw7I/AAAAAAAABgA/hKjJxBLGAa8/s1600/_DSC6197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-It6YNdlLBYc/UzChJleaw7I/AAAAAAAABgA/hKjJxBLGAa8/s1600/_DSC6197.JPG" height="382" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Our next stop is
the National Portrait Gallery, where there is a very recommendable exhibition,
“The Great War in Portraits”, which allows us to put faces to those who led and
fought this war. What impressed me the most was the opening sculpture, Jacob
Epstein’s “The Rock Drill”, and a wall covered with a collection of portraits
of people involved in the war, famous and anonymous, allies and enemies, men
and women. You can read the story behind these faces in a booklet that is
provided in the gallery. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O5GnRcOSxhc/UzChT2y6Q9I/AAAAAAAABgI/Cti_7ndrxns/s1600/_DSC6205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O5GnRcOSxhc/UzChT2y6Q9I/AAAAAAAABgI/Cti_7ndrxns/s1600/_DSC6205.JPG" height="398" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">This exhibition will be open to the public until 15<sup>th</sup>
June 2014. Whether you are planning to come to London soon or not, even if you
have already been to this exhibition, it’s worth listening to the curator’s
guided tour: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/firstworldwarcentenary/curator-tour.php">http://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/firstworldwarcentenary/curator-tour.php</a></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5AuRdMSBOAc/UzChnNaxpDI/AAAAAAAABgY/gMRH6aY2WZk/s1600/_DSC6248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5AuRdMSBOAc/UzChnNaxpDI/AAAAAAAABgY/gMRH6aY2WZk/s1600/_DSC6248.JPG" height="432" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I have already mentioned Charles Sargeant Jagger. If
we carry on walking towards Hyde Park Corner, we will find one of his most
famous works: the “Royal Artillery Memorial”, which shows four figures: a
driver, an artillery captain, a shell carrier and a dead soldier covered by his
own coat. The driver is wearing a cape that is being blown by the wind and when
I look at him I often have the feeling of looking at the figure of an angel
with its wings extended. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gredlfmNY30/UzChlGzJVAI/AAAAAAAABgQ/-DGGrt7tufI/s1600/_DSC6240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gredlfmNY30/UzChlGzJVAI/AAAAAAAABgQ/-DGGrt7tufI/s1600/_DSC6240.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The next stop leads us to the other side of the park,
in Marble Arch, where you can visit a monument that pays homage to all the
animals that lost their lives in wars. Their role was key in the trenches:
pigeons that carried messages, mules used to transport armament and munitions,
war horses... Again, I remember a passage from “The Making of Modern Britain”
where Andrew Marr describes some of the terrible conditions these animals lived
in: mules who had their vocal chords cut for fear that their braying gave away
the soldiers’ position, horses who were painted in black for the same reason...
On this monument you can read the inscription “They had no choice”.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iO1EIFLBWAI/UzCh2FTiO5I/AAAAAAAABgg/imOWmoK_kkU/s1600/_DSC6266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iO1EIFLBWAI/UzCh2FTiO5I/AAAAAAAABgg/imOWmoK_kkU/s1600/_DSC6266.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Our walk ends at the Marquis of Granby, a pub you can
find behind Millbank, next to the river Thames. Here there is a corner devoted
to one of the most fascinating heroes of this war: the poet Siegfried Sassoon.
He was sent to the front in France, was injured and won the Military Cross.
However, he decided to throw it into the Mersey estuary and stand against a war
he felt pointless. His poetry describes the horrors of this war and denounces
the gap between those who fought it and the callous politicians who made the
decisions at home. Eventually, Sassoon decided to go back to the front in order
not to abandon his comrades and was wounded again. In this corner you can find
some photos, together with some original copies of his work.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-exrQ8j9b7A8/UzCiIJZSoYI/AAAAAAAABgo/BTCpOTeQ0A4/s1600/_1390245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-exrQ8j9b7A8/UzCiIJZSoYI/AAAAAAAABgo/BTCpOTeQ0A4/s1600/_1390245.JPG" height="542" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I would like to finish this entry with an extract of
one of Sassoon’s poems, “The rank stench of those bodies haunts me still”:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">“To-night I smell the battle; miles away
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Gun-thunder leaps and thuds along the ridge;<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">The spouting shells dig pits in fields of death,
<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">And wounded men, are moaning in the woods.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
APPENDIX</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">If you want to find out more about this engaging
topic, visit the BBC history website: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww1"><span style="font-family: Arial;">http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww1</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">And finally, if
you want to check how much you know about this event, I invite you to do this
quiz: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/quiz/2013/jun/11/quiz-first-world-war"><span style="font-family: Arial;">http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/quiz/2013/jun/11/quiz-first-world-war</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">I managed to score 7 points. What about you?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">Photo: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
</div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-19671280085381189042014-03-02T17:59:00.000+00:002014-03-02T18:00:59.677+00:00A TIME CAPSULE FOR THE FUTURE GENERATIONS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f12mJuVmzWQ/UxNulgx7dkI/AAAAAAAABeM/kN7Akd2sS-k/s1600/boda+m.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f12mJuVmzWQ/UxNulgx7dkI/AAAAAAAABeM/kN7Akd2sS-k/s1600/boda+m.JPG" height="384" width="640" /></a></div>
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A wedding album can be a powerfully
evocative object. I remember the fascination I felt as I passed the tracing
paper pages that protected the old black and white photographs of my parents’.
Every time I opened the album it was as if I saw it for the first time: my mum
wearing the wonderful silk dress my grandma had made for her, my father thin
and without the moustache that would become one of his most defining features,
the magnificence of the cathedral... I remember the covers were made of dark
green leather and the pages inside, black and thick like cardboard.<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">A few months ago we celebrated a
reminiscence session devoted to weddings in Camden. Shirley, one of the ladies
in the group, brought a very similar album, but this time the photos showed a
traditional Jewish wedding. However, the album had the same leather cover and
black pages and the photos were also protected by tracing paper. Leafing
through Shirley’s album I experimented the same kind of feeling, and I could
also observe that she lit up explaining the different details of the images. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">This is something that could be said of all
the wedding photos of the time. Anita Berlin showed me a photo of her parents,
Ludwig and Carmen, outside the registry office and they reminded me of the
glamour of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Dolce Vita.</i> Another
good example is Fay and Tom’s wedding photos, full of the swing of the 1960s,
which you can see at the top of this page.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">Nowadays the feeling is almost gone; there
is a lack of soul in the wedding albums, once you have seen one, you rarely
feel like going through it again. It might have something to do with the fact
that we are overexposed to images and by the time you see the album you have
already seen the same shots one hundred times on your friends’ facebook
accounts. But I am convinced it is also the professional photographers’ fault,
as they fail to face the challenge of offering something truly original,
something that cannot have been taken by anybody’s mobile phone camera. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">The format has also something to do with
this: there are photographers that cut down costs by offering just a CD with
all the photos; others offer digital albums with a metallic touch; and
sometimes they use digital retouching so much that the groom’s mother could be
taken for the bride’s little sister. Also, the photo selection fails; often
it’s the couple who do this job and as a result there is no rhythm, no story.
It’s not their fault, but editing is one of the most important and difficult
parts of a photographic job and it should be done by a professional. Would you
handle the scalpel if you had to undergo surgery? Well, this is what people
seem to do when it comes to wedding photography. </span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fR1sioM4VY0/UxJpb8PwP_I/AAAAAAAABdg/YQvHys6oHLY/s1600/BODA+125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fR1sioM4VY0/UxJpb8PwP_I/AAAAAAAABdg/YQvHys6oHLY/s1600/BODA+125.JPG" height="458" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">A wedding album is something that should be
timeless, that should trigger memory rather than giving you the whole story
(videos are meant for this, and people rarely watch a wedding video more than
once). An album is an object that is not meant for the couple who order it but
for their future selves and the future generations. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">Lorenzo does not take many wedding
assignments; most of them come to him through word-to-mouth and he sometimes
documents several weddings and other events within the same family. He has a
very clear idea of what a wedding album should be, a witness of the couple’s
life around the time they got married: their jobs, their friends, their
hobbies. With this aim in mind, he meets them several times along the year.
We’ve had photo shootings in primary schools, fire stations, onion warehouses...
even in the couple’s bed. We also include friends and family. The result is an
album in which you can feel the soul of the people portrayed; you can see who
they are, and in the future their children will see who they were.</span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--g9YzLuCY-c/UxJpfputJUI/AAAAAAAABeA/_JA51SFt8ck/s1600/BODA+blog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--g9YzLuCY-c/UxJpfputJUI/AAAAAAAABeA/_JA51SFt8ck/s1600/BODA+blog.JPG" height="392" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">This is a
concept that we share with Juan and Sonia, who came to London last week
especially for a photo shooting that will be part of their wedding album. They
are getting married at the end of September and we started our project last
July. We’ve had several shootings since then, involving the two of them and
their two little children, Juanito and Sonia, who are going to play an
essential role in the event. While having a drink on the beach after one of
these shootings, we suggested that they could come do the next one in London.
So they decided to come here during the half-term holidays in February instead
of going to Lisbon, as it was their original plan. </span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QfegQReiTtM/UxJpbhuBN2I/AAAAAAAABdY/bgR2a07mM3I/s1600/BODA+113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QfegQReiTtM/UxJpbhuBN2I/AAAAAAAABdY/bgR2a07mM3I/s1600/BODA+113.JPG" height="418" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">We met them in front of the Big Ben and
spent the day in the South Bank. At the beginning, it was a bit hard because if
you look at Lorenzo’s photos, you’ll realise he has a thing for introducing an
element of movement and he often uses birds for this purpose. Well, there were
plenty of seagulls and birds on the riverbank, but they refused to fly on the
right direction, so Juan and Sonia had to wait patiently while I tried to
attract or shoo the birds away. Luckily, Lorenzo is a specialist in catching
the moment. </span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--VFNf7fIkJY/UxJpe9IzRaI/AAAAAAAABd0/cQplnePa7-o/s1600/BODA+166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--VFNf7fIkJY/UxJpe9IzRaI/AAAAAAAABd0/cQplnePa7-o/s1600/BODA+166.JPG" height="412" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">We spent the
rest of the day making the most of the wonderful locations in the area: the
Undercroft, the National Theatre, the Tate Modern, the Millennium Bridge... But
my favourite place is by far the beach you can find in the riverbank when the
tide is low. There you can see the rests of London’s medieval past, which is
hidden almost everywhere else. Going down the stairs that lead to this beach is
like stepping back in time and the magic in the atmosphere is undeniable. Here
is where Lorenzo took some of the best pictures of the couple. </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y4Ju6Bm8Wsw/UxJpcEJCu9I/AAAAAAAABdc/jYy_-IokKVY/s1600/BODA+145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y4Ju6Bm8Wsw/UxJpcEJCu9I/AAAAAAAABdc/jYy_-IokKVY/s1600/BODA+145.JPG" height="366" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">To finish the
day, Juan suggested that we drink a pint of Nicholson’s at the Blackfriar, a
cosy pub situated under the bridge of the same name. It was just what we needed
after a long day of work, almost eight hours.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB">I don’t know how
to define Lorenzo’s wedding albums; they contain elements of fashion and street
photography and when you look at them you can really feel love and positivity.
Something that confirms that we are doing the right thing is what Sonia told us
at the end of the day: she caught their five-year-old son taking pictures of
his toys</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and when she asked him what he was
doing, he said: “I am taking pictures like Lorenzo.”</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zA8cc_oU3go/UxJpd0SUntI/AAAAAAAABdo/_TIJ4yBDYYo/s1600/BODA+28.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zA8cc_oU3go/UxJpd0SUntI/AAAAAAAABdo/_TIJ4yBDYYo/s1600/BODA+28.JPG" height="466" width="640" /></a></div>
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Photos making of: Marta Moreno <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-87032638787044825072014-02-09T22:39:00.000+00:002014-08-16T21:57:07.651+01:00THE BEVIN BOY AND THE SMOKING POTS IN THE OLD BREWERY<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Fay and Tom met while they were working at
Truman’s Brewery in Brick Lane in the nineteen sixties, when Truman was the
last major independent brewery in London. They have been together since then. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Tom was one of the Bevin boys during the
Second World War. The Bevin boys were young men who were conscripted to work in
the coalmines. The programme was named after Ernest Bevin, the Minister of
Labour and National Service in the wartime coalition government. The work
conditions could be as terrible as being in the front, but contrary to what
happened to soldiers, nobody recognised their contribution to victory until
1995. In 2007 the British Government decided that these men would receive a
Veterans Badge. Tom received his recently and now he wears it proudly on his
lapel. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JAUR606W7wU/Uvf8nn3LLhI/AAAAAAAABaQ/QTkFnma1nx0/s1600/_DSC2430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JAUR606W7wU/Uvf8nn3LLhI/AAAAAAAABaQ/QTkFnma1nx0/s1600/_DSC2430.JPG" height="286" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Fay is a very lively woman who sings,
dances and performs. She’s also got a great sense of humour. Fay showed me
their wedding photo; the smile on her face is unmistakable: Tom was the man of
her life. Here you can see these images, together with a poem she wrote herself
a few months ago, which ends with these wise words:</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">“Baby, childhood, teenage years </span></div>
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</span>all gone</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"> 30, 40, 50, 60 70 years, will I </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>carry
on?</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"> Bet your life I will.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">If Fay and Tom haven’t changed so much, the
brick building which used to be the site of this famous brewery can’t be more different. </span><span style="text-align: center;">Truman closed in 1989, but the Eagle that was the symbol of the company is
still up there, looking at the groups of young people, tourists and street
artists that fill the area every Sunday afternoon. The brewing machinery is not
there anymore and the place has been taken over by an exciting street market. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">When you arrive at Brick Lane all your
senses become alert. First, you hear the siren songs of the owners of the curry
houses that line the street, trying to attract prospective clients by offering
them an incomparable culinary experience for only ten pounds. Then, as you
approach the brewery, the smell of spices and exotic dishes fills your
nostrils. And as you enter the old building, you can feel the heat of the
boiling pots in the stalls. All the world cuisine is represented here: Turkish,
Vietnamese, Greek, Thai, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Lithuanian, you name it. </span></div>
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And all of a sudden you are starving, longing to buy some vegetable stew with
noodles or perhaps a combined Turkish plate. It’s hard to choose and you tell
to yourself that you will return next Sunday to try what you couldn’t eat
today. Everybody here is carrying a tin foil little tray or a paper plate,
eating and talking and laughing.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">This is a good opportunity to have a conversation
with some of the cooks, like a couple of Italians who are about to open their
own restaurant in London and who make a mean lasagna, just like the one that la
mamma cooks back in Rome. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Now it’s time to walk around and look at
the people who fill the market. The mixture of cultures and races is
everywhere, which is one of the beauties of this city. The atmosphere is
friendly and relaxed.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kVyR0dNl2yw/UvgAZTqAfwI/AAAAAAAABbY/HQ6tNHRNggY/s1600/ok+04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kVyR0dNl2yw/UvgAZTqAfwI/AAAAAAAABbY/HQ6tNHRNggY/s1600/ok+04.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfvC9Nwt9E8/UvgAdIlyFLI/AAAAAAAABbg/rl0Pp7GeeoI/s1600/ok+07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfvC9Nwt9E8/UvgAdIlyFLI/AAAAAAAABbg/rl0Pp7GeeoI/s1600/ok+07.JPG" height="220" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I decide to stop at a small stall that sells old
spectacles and I try on a few. Some of them are really beautiful, like a
butterfly frame from the 1950s, but they look fragile and I have to wear very
expensive lenses, so getting them is out of the question. A couple of Spanish
girls stop next to me and start taking selfies wearing different glasses,
ignoring the notice that asks people not to do so. The person in charge tells
them something about it, but they just say “Thank you” and ignore what she has
said. I pretend to be Russian.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Lorenzo, who has been walking around taking
photos, joins me and we walk to a stall that sells second hand clothes. There
is a wonderful green leather jacket for ten pounds, which he buys. Carla is
looking for a dress for a party. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jPttrCtxt-M/UvgA9tH8Y1I/AAAAAAAABbo/3DkZU2X4oO4/s1600/ok+06.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jPttrCtxt-M/UvgA9tH8Y1I/AAAAAAAABbo/3DkZU2X4oO4/s1600/ok+06.JPG" height="465" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VafNOv4pCro/UvgBi1sbHFI/AAAAAAAABb4/BIJcePHlFVY/s1600/ok+09.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VafNOv4pCro/UvgBi1sbHFI/AAAAAAAABb4/BIJcePHlFVY/s1600/ok+09.JPG" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB">We leave the brewery and walk round the
corner into Rough Trade Records. This is a paradise for me. I put on a pair of
headphones and listen to the CDs on display. I write down some names to check
out later, like an atmospheric song called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hey
Now</i> by a band called London Grammar. As I listen to the music I look at the
walls of this shop, covered with old concert flyers. There is also a book
section with places to seat and leaf through, another beauty of London (you can
do this in most bookshops, something that makes you feel <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>really grateful on a rainy day).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">We end up drinking some coffee at cafe
1001, which has a different DJ in each room, and finish the day with a short
walk. This will bring more surprises, like a man playing a ragtime tune in an
old piano in a junk shop.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c5TtSe8lewg/UvgCc2XSunI/AAAAAAAABb8/u9qTGFqURhQ/s1600/ok+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c5TtSe8lewg/UvgCc2XSunI/AAAAAAAABb8/u9qTGFqURhQ/s1600/ok+03.JPG" height="466" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">It’s dark and we walk back to the DLR station. Another
dark Sunday evening in London, as dark as the coalmine galleries of the Bevin
boys. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aRIf-bTuKDo/UvgCviSOn_I/AAAAAAAABcE/GOPZHphsypI/s1600/ok+05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aRIf-bTuKDo/UvgCviSOn_I/AAAAAAAABcE/GOPZHphsypI/s1600/ok+05.JPG" height="382" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-9476345326572828992014-01-19T21:32:00.000+00:002014-02-15T15:08:34.034+00:00GRANDMA PAQUITA AND THE WONDROUS LIFE PATTERN<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rr_bDQZ0VCU/Utw9FGMYEWI/AAAAAAAABYg/jfFnBhToYww/s1600/LA+ABUELA+CON+14+AN%CC%83OS2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rr_bDQZ0VCU/Utw9FGMYEWI/AAAAAAAABYg/jfFnBhToYww/s1600/LA+ABUELA+CON+14+AN%CC%83OS2.jpg" height="640" width="444" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Paquita at the age of 14</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Lives are lines that criss-cross
time and space; sometimes these lines meet serendipitously, sometimes they run
along parallel lines that are never meant to converge. However, if we could
observe these lines from above, we would marvel at the beautiful pattern they
make. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the Tate Modern Members Room<br />
<br /></td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Let’s take two moments
separated by one thousand miles and nearly twenty years in time. In the first
one there are two women sitting at the Tate Modern Members Room contemplating
how the weak November sun sets behind St. Paul’s Cathedral. One of them is
pregnant, but the baby is not the topic of their conversation. They are talking
about the history behind her family, who left Indonesia after the independence war
that followed the Second World War. It’s the most engaging story: a beautiful
Indonesian woman had two daughters: the first one with a Dutchman and, ten
years later, the second one with an Indonesian man. When the colonists decided
to leave the country, the ‘pure’ ethnic Indonesians took revenge on those who were
descended from the Dutch, because they had enjoyed privileges which they never
had. Many people who had just returned from the terrible Japanese prison camps were
interned again in Indonesia, especially those of Dutch descent. The government
of the mother country made a decision: the Dutch descendents would be invited
to move to Holland. However, the Indonesians would have to stay, however harsh
their plight. This separated the two sisters for life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the second moment, the
woman who was listening to the story is eighteen years younger. She is in the
South of Spain, in her hometown, and she’s visiting her grandmother, who is
very ill. The old lady lives with her youngest daughter, who is married to a
Dutchman. All of a sudden, she looks restless, and asks her granddaughter to
come nearer and whispers in her ear: “My darling, as you like travelling so
much, I’m sure you’ll be able to lend me a suitcase. I am going to the USA.”
The young woman thinks that her grandma is speaking nonsense, that this request
is just another symptom of the dementia that has been taking hold of her life
during the last months. She promises that she will bring her the suitcase,
being sure that she will have forgotten by the end of the day. This day the
young woman’s life will change forever, but I won’t tell you about this. Yet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The two moments are connected
because there are two parallel stories, the story of two sisters who were
separated for life but stayed linked by an invisible thread. The first woman in
the story is my friend the painter Marenka Gabeler. I am the second one. This
is the story I told her that evening in the Tate Modern. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N4Wn22-zuFk/Utw-BsWjf8I/AAAAAAAABY0/45dYAFz_JvY/s1600/ABUELA+JOVEN.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N4Wn22-zuFk/Utw-BsWjf8I/AAAAAAAABY0/45dYAFz_JvY/s1600/ABUELA+JOVEN.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Paquita as a young girl</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In every family there is
someone who is the guardian of the stories, who keeps them and who transmits them
to the new generations. In my family, it’s my mother, Paquita. She says it’s
important to tell the children where they come from. When we were kids, she
used to tell me “adventures” instead of fairy tales. The protagonists of these
adventures were always members of the family: there was the one about how my
uncle Juan Manuel ran away from the seminary several times (how my grandma
thought he could become a priest is a mystery to me), the day my mum took a sun
ray for the Virgin Mary, how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">la tata </i>María
cut the chickens’ necks and they started to run about headless... The stories
went back generations until the middle of the nineteenth century, when my
grandmother’s grandfather, a Frenchman, came to the South of Spain with Empress
Eugenia de Montijo. This man spent all his fortune on gambling and having a
good time, so there was no money left for the next generation, who had to earn
their living as labourers. In fact, his son, my great-grandfather, worked in
the building of the famous <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">King’s Path</i>
which goes around <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">El Chorro </i>reservoir.
Life was hard, my grandmother, another Paquita, was the oldest of twelve
children of whom only five survived. My mum always said that the sadness of
seeing so many of her brothers and sisters die in their infancy never left her.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My grandparents and their children. My mum is the one on the left.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A very important person in my
grandmother’s childhood was her cousin Francis. They were like sisters, as
Francis was growing up without her parents. Her mother was dead and her dad had
emigrated to America. My mum told me that her grandparents almost did the same
but when my great-grandmother, who was holding my grandma Paquita in her arms,
saw the ship, she told her husband: “I don’t know about you, but I’m not
travelling on that shell”; so all the family decided to stay. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">One day, when the two girls were thirteen,
Francis’s father returned from America as a rich man. I can imagine the shock
of meeting a father you had never seen since you were a toddler. He suggested
that he could take his daughter to Malaga to buy her some new dresses. The village
where they lived is only twenty minutes’ drive nowadays, but then it took more
than a day to get to the capital. So off they went, and they never saw Francis
again. Her father put her on a boat and they sailed to America. Cruelty?
Certainly. It was a great blow for my grandmother to lose her cousin. But with
hindsight, it wasn’t such a bad thing for Francis to be taken to America: she
went to the best schools, married a millionaire, had a good life. Paquita, on
the other hand, went through the civil war and the post-war years in a country
that was in ruins and, without international help, did not start to recover
until the 1960s. On the bright side, all her six children survived, including
my mum, who was always ill and spent months in bed during her infancy.
According to what my mum says and as far as I remember, my grandma had a
perennial smile on her face, which was one of her charms.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma and her sisters. She's the smiley one on the left.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Despite the distance, Francis
and Paquita kept in touch. She even visited Spain in 1942 with her husband, as
you can see in this photo. She also sent parcels to her family, and this is how
my mum received nice clothes and nylon stockings. But she did not return until
both of them were old ladies in their late seventies, when following the
American tradition, she decided to spend a holiday in the place she came from.
I was living abroad then, so I never met her. My aunt Cristina says that her
English was exquisite but she spoke Spanish with the broad accent of her
village, which was very funny, considering she was such an elegant lady.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two cousins reunite in 1942. Francis' American husband is on the left.</td></tr>
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<!--StartFragment--><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">So this brings me back to that evening almost
twenty years ago, when my grandma wanted to make the reverse journey and go to
the USA to visit her cousin. One week later my auntie told me that she had
received a phone call from America: Francis had died on the same evening Paquita
had asked me for the suitcase. I don’t know if she somehow sensed her cousin
was dying but the coincidence is intriguing nonetheless. </span><!--EndFragment--><br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Paquita died two months later on 31st december 1996.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma with her two youngest daughters: Marilo (left) and Mª Carmen (right).<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Marenka’s grandmother refused
to go back to Indonesia. The two sisters reunited for the first time in the
ninety-seventies. Marenka told me that her great-auntie had the power of seeing
people’s spirits; my grandma certainly had a connection with her cousin’s soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And how did my life change on
that day? After leaving my grandma’s house, I went out for the first time with
a man I barely knew. My husband. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><i style="font-family: Arial;">(Click here to see Marenka's project on her grandmother and her sister: <a href="http://www.marenkagabeler.com/sisters.htm">Sister project</a> And here to see a photo of them published in Marenka's website: <a href="http://www.marenkagabeler.com/images/sisters/full/grandmother.jpg">photo</a>)</i></div>
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-71071325193058120182013-12-27T21:14:00.000+00:002014-08-16T21:47:25.722+01:00THE DREAMY EYES OF THE REPLICANTS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iRm1UX1pspQ/Ur3sR4OXQDI/AAAAAAAABV8/yVZmPdLBnYE/s1600/M+26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iRm1UX1pspQ/Ur3sR4OXQDI/AAAAAAAABV8/yVZmPdLBnYE/s640/M+26.JPG" height="474" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">From the end of November till the end of the year, the nights are cold
and long. It is the beginning of the Christmas season and when you walk down
the streets in the centre of London you can see that the shop windows have been
exquisitely decorated with human-like mannequins. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d89HU9YDxYE/Ur3qbKfTotI/AAAAAAAABVE/LI0imwZG2o0/s1600/M+02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d89HU9YDxYE/Ur3qbKfTotI/AAAAAAAABVE/LI0imwZG2o0/s640/M+02.JPG" height="422" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The settings themselves are
works of art, the make-up daring and adventurous, and you can see a story
behind each human-like doll. <o:p></o:p></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oGuIvYNaRvA/Ur3qsYonUUI/AAAAAAAABVI/bQcoFE6_jkQ/s1600/M+05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oGuIvYNaRvA/Ur3qsYonUUI/AAAAAAAABVI/bQcoFE6_jkQ/s640/M+05.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">For example, the decoration of the shop windows of a famous clothes
department store in Regent Street is inspired in the icy beauty of the divas of the 1930s, with a hint at the African war masks in their make up. Their
hairstyle, a Scandinavian version of Queen Nefertiti’s, is also worth noticing. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tG-pdJPuUeE/Ur3rC6CVneI/AAAAAAAABVQ/hRuN1SbbCsk/s1600/M+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tG-pdJPuUeE/Ur3rC6CVneI/AAAAAAAABVQ/hRuN1SbbCsk/s640/M+03.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But if you go beyond the aura of beauty and glamour that surrounds their perfect
bodies, you can perceive the deep sadness in their eyes, and that is
disturbing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6q4ECLvLnZo/Ur3su_R0lnI/AAAAAAAABWE/XD854zdo0SI/s1600/M+20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6q4ECLvLnZo/Ur3su_R0lnI/AAAAAAAABWE/XD854zdo0SI/s640/M+20.JPG" height="610" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">If you walk on and reach Kensington, the dystopian replicants created by Ridley Scott in 1981 will look at you from the windows of another famous department store.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CM2EDjJaFPg/Ur3rWfi8A3I/AAAAAAAABVY/9oH9uIxtCgg/s1600/M+19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CM2EDjJaFPg/Ur3rWfi8A3I/AAAAAAAABVY/9oH9uIxtCgg/s640/M+19.JPG" height="460" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> Here a combination of moving lights contributes to create a futuristic
atmosphere in which the appearance of the mannequins changes dramatically every
few seconds, and you can almost see Joanna Cassidy dancing with the snake. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gcsrNjfqhLw/Ur3rwUGw07I/AAAAAAAABVg/L98t0TMyLbA/s1600/M+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gcsrNjfqhLw/Ur3rwUGw07I/AAAAAAAABVg/L98t0TMyLbA/s640/M+12.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Their look is not sad anymore, but dreamy, as if induced by some kind of
chemical drug. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X1tC67fJYUQ/Ur3sCsMgNlI/AAAAAAAABVw/ZV2tOUPkZtA/s1600/M+17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X1tC67fJYUQ/Ur3sCsMgNlI/AAAAAAAABVw/ZV2tOUPkZtA/s640/M+17.JPG" height="542" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Blade Runner</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> has always been
one of my favourite films and I have always had the feeling that the night of
2019 LA was as cold and damp as London’s December nights. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XNTayVv34Ww/Ur3tMnK5NAI/AAAAAAAABWM/ueMyPNSk6h8/s1600/M+24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XNTayVv34Ww/Ur3tMnK5NAI/AAAAAAAABWM/ueMyPNSk6h8/s640/M+24.JPG" height="640" width="438" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Photo: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-24308588629550860862013-12-17T22:32:00.000+00:002014-04-06T21:01:35.737+01:00MARENKA GABELER AND THE FRAGMENTATION OF MEMORIES<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qOMQUqcJ_Vc/UrDOiERxs3I/AAAAAAAABT0/pXvTFurQvzQ/s1600/Mak+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qOMQUqcJ_Vc/UrDOiERxs3I/AAAAAAAABT0/pXvTFurQvzQ/s640/Mak+01.JPG" height="530" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Marenka Gabeler is a Dutch
artist who has a special connection with the topic of memory and its loss.
Today she invites us into her studio and tells us the secrets of her art.</span><br />
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<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The first thing you notice
when you arrive is the luminosity of the space and also the noisy activity of
the building site next to the studio. Marenka opens the door with a big smile
on her face. She’s normally a person who is exquisite in the way she dresses,
but today she’s wearing blue work overalls covered in white paint, which
clashes amusingly with her pregnant figure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">She invites us for a
delicious cup of camomile and spicy apple tea to help us recover from the
December cold and starts showing us her latest work. She directs our attention
to the wall at the bottom of the room, which shows a series of small portraits
of little children who look at you with open eyes. They look a bit like cartoon
characters, but each one has a personality of their own. When we ask her about
their identity, she says they are Barnardo’s children. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Barnardo's is a British
charity founded in 1866 to care for vulnerable children and young people. Its
founder, Dr Thomas John Barnardo, opened a </span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/School"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext; font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">school</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> in the East End of London to care for and educate
children of the area. Short afterwards, he founded a boys' </span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orphanage"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: windowtext; font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">orphanage</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> and later opened a girls'
home. By the time of his death in 1905, Barnardo's institutions cared for over
8,500 children in 96 locations.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Eighty of these portraits
were exhibited at Lloyd’s club until 5</span><sup style="font-family: Arial;">th</sup><span style="font-family: Arial;"> December 2013. The pictures
were displayed around a fireplace, an object that has special significance in
Marenka’s work, as we’ll see later on.</span><br />
<i style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-family: Arial;">I went to Barnardo’s archive
to do some research and found the images of the children. There were thousands
of faces looking at you from the past, and you didn’t know their stories. </i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">We also noticed that the
portraits on the wall had been painted on pieces of board.</span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><i>I like to experiment with
different techniques; I started using canvas and then moved on to plywood
covered in two or three layers of plaster, which is then sanded down, so the
effect is smooth. I use different strategies because I want to show how the
paintbrush can maybe symbolise what happens to memory when you try to access
it, how we remember, how we forget. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But now her bigger project is
about her grandmother, who lives with Alzheimer’s. At this moment she is
working on a series of paintings inspired by an old photo that shows her
mother, her aunt, her uncle, her grandmother, and her grandfather. You can see
this photo at Marenka’s blog: </span><a href="http://beppeproject.tumblr.com/" style="font-family: Arial;">http://beppeproject.tumblr.com</a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QyLXBRhkPCo/UrDO9Sg9eRI/AAAAAAAABUE/LGUCHfrsxeA/s1600/mak+02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QyLXBRhkPCo/UrDO9Sg9eRI/AAAAAAAABUE/LGUCHfrsxeA/s640/mak+02.JPG" height="640" width="512" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>The last time I visited my
grandmother, which was last summer, we did different activities like sewing,
cooking, playing games, and then we looked at a photo album to reminisce. But I
think that, for her, looking at photos is not a good thing, as she does not
recognise herself or know who is in the photo. And when she came to one photo in
particular she said ‘Who’s this beautiful lady?’ That was the first time she
did not recognize herself. It was another step into deterioration. It’s so sad,
but she did not get depressed or anything, I just said ‘But grandma, it’s you,
you were so beautiful...’ and she said ‘Oh, it’s just me’ and that was it. She
is happy when my sister and I are there because we are her grandchildren and
this makes her feel secure.</i></span><br />
<i style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-family: Arial;">My mother has taken some
photos from the album to make copies and I think that the gaps in the album
represent what happens in your mind when you have Alzheimer’s. Then I got to
this photo. As you can see, the album has onion skin paper sheets to protect
the photos and with the time the sheets have become wrinkled, the pattern is
similar to a spider web, but more chaotic. So, if you cover the photo with the
sheet, you see the image through a veil, which may very well symbolise the
confusion experimented by the person with Alzheimer’s.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Marenka shows us another wall
covered with small pictures that represent the fragments of this photo. They
are displayed with no order. One of the paintings represents a face, another
one a hand, another part of a jumper...</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LuJoZei0SM4/UrDPKB7bA0I/AAAAAAAABUM/mfPoffXvkwo/s1600/mak+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LuJoZei0SM4/UrDPKB7bA0I/AAAAAAAABUM/mfPoffXvkwo/s640/mak+03.JPG" height="464" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>I decided to cut the
photograph into pieces and paint the different parts, as if it were a puzzle. I
didn’t want to copy it exactly as it was, but much more simplified and
childlike, reducing the detail, mimicking how the memory works, remembering
only the generalities, and then sometimes going into detail. Also, as you can
see, I didn’t use the fragmentation of the spider web in all of them. I started
painting just the photos and then I thought that I could use it. Then I started
experimenting and, for example, in this piece, which is a hand, you can also
see a landscape or in this other one, which is part of the jumper of the boy,
you can see the sea, the horizon or the sand. And the latest ones are almost
like sketches. So, as you can see, slowly, a lot of things are happening in my
painting.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>Also the way I displayed the
different pictures on the wall has changed. At first they formed a straight
line, like a cinema screen and then, this morning, I thought I could show it
like a puzzle, so I rearranged them.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">At the bottom on the right,
there is a piece that is just red paint. We ask her if it has symbolic value.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HQ2jEzV3Nr0/UrDPYfkKbnI/AAAAAAAABUU/pepokdHTh4Y/s1600/mak+05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HQ2jEzV3Nr0/UrDPYfkKbnI/AAAAAAAABUU/pepokdHTh4Y/s640/mak+05.JPG" height="410" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 7.0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>I am not sure yet. I would
like to research the role colour plays in dementia, because they suffer
blackouts, but there are also periods of aggression.</i></span><br />
<i style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></i>
<i style="font-family: Arial;">Maybe I need to paint the
same topic over and over again, because one of the effects of Alzheimer’s
disease on my grandmother is that she tends to tell the same story all the
time; she asks a question, you answer it, and she asks the same question again,
you answer it, and it goes on and on and on and it’s really difficult. She does
not realize she’s asking the same question, which is ok, but for us it’s really
tiring: you try to give her a slightly different answer each time, or you try
to divert the conversation, but she keeps on repeating the same question. So
this is why I think I should repeat the same image instead of doing different
images. For example, I paint the same face, but I paint it differently, because
this is how the memory works: you remember, but you remember it slightly
differently every time.</i></div>
</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ykWoOyTL1EE/UrDPjaL1PwI/AAAAAAAABUc/6YZH5oD2aBg/s1600/mak+06.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ykWoOyTL1EE/UrDPjaL1PwI/AAAAAAAABUc/6YZH5oD2aBg/s640/mak+06.JPG" height="490" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>I started working with
memory in 2011, coinciding with my grandmother’s illness and the passing away
of my other grandmother, who I was really closed to. She was Indonesian, and I
started to remember the stories she had told me from when she was little in
Indonesia, and I made a book.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">But this relationship with memory had already
started a few years before, when she did a project about masks for her MA at
Royal College</span><i style="font-family: Arial;">: </i><a href="http://www.marenkagabeler.com/the-mask-project.htm" style="font-family: Arial;">http://www.marenkagabeler.com/the-mask-project.htm</a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>I was interested in facial
identity and I decided to make a cast of my face in plaster and make a mask. I
just left holes for the eyes and the mouth and I wore it for two weeks to
experiment what it was like not to have any facial expression, how it affects
communication and how it makes you feel. I kept a diary. From then I started
painting the experiences of the performance. And the final piece for the degree
show was paintings inspired on masters like Velazquez, Goya, Vermeer, but
transforming them somehow and I placed them surrounding a fireplace. That was
the first time I used the fireplace as a motif in my work. And I think using
the fireplace linked to the memory because it is the place where we reminisce.
I think it’s Bachelard who writes about the person who sits in front of the
fire and the memories come out and come back, like a star shape. Also, it’s
common to find photographs of your family on the mantelpiece, which are also
memories of the past.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>At the moment I am also
participating in a group exhibition at the Cello Factory. I am showing one of
the pictures of the masks. As for my next exhibition in Amsterdam at the
beginning of January, which is a solo exhibition, I am going to show the
installation of the eighty faces, but it’s quite a big space, so I am thinking
of showing some of the paintings I am working on now.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I always feel curious about
the working routine of writers and artists, how they manage to shape their
inspiration, so I cannot help asking Marenka about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>I don’t have a very strict
working routine, I have to work to earn money, then I am doing the RYCT course
with Pam Schweitzer, and of course, as I am pregnant, sometimes I am just too
tired. I am also decorating the house... so I come here when I can, basically.
I prefer working in the morning, when I feel fresh. When I was younger, I used
to paint all night and sleep during the day, but now I am more traditional.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><i>Now that I am pregnant, I
feel more relaxed. I used to be anxious, but now I accept t inspiration as it comes.
I don’t know if it has something to do with the baby, but now I know that the
baby is coming and I only have a few months left to paint. Then I will have to
look after the baby and later on, maybe in four or five months, I will be able
to paint again. Maybe I’ve become less ambitious.</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>Some people have asked me if
I have painted about my pregnancy. Actually, in the group exhibition I am
taking part in at the moment, which shows the work of women artists, there is a
beautiful painting of a belly containing another person. But no, I haven’t. At
the moment, even if, of course, I am thinking about my baby, I am focused on my
grandmother and the topic of memories.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ayBx0uHZve8/UrDQF7zFJXI/AAAAAAAABUo/sXhVZ69TPmw/s1600/mak+09.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ayBx0uHZve8/UrDQF7zFJXI/AAAAAAAABUo/sXhVZ69TPmw/s640/mak+09.JPG" height="530" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Marenka is intelligent and
beautiful but, above other things, has a magic aura about her that makes people
relaxed and happy. I notice this every Monday when we go to the RYCT training.
Her art will probably be one of the most interesting outcomes of this project. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.marenkagabeler.com/">http://www.marenkagabeler.com</a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Photos: Lorenzohernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-82325580884521803122013-12-07T21:40:00.000+00:002014-08-16T21:44:44.519+01:00THE MUSEUM METAMORPHOSES AT NIGHT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tlbhZdclawA/UqOOUhAXTZI/AAAAAAAABRY/t-Gat1Dy3qQ/s1600/MUS+14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tlbhZdclawA/UqOOUhAXTZI/AAAAAAAABRY/t-Gat1Dy3qQ/s400/MUS+14.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A couple of
Sundays ago, Lorenzo and I were walking along the north bank of the river
Thames from Battersea Park towards Covent Garden, where we were going to meet our
daughter Carla. It was dark
already, which is not amazing at this time of the year. Suddenly, we came
across the Tate Gallery and decided to go in. In London it’s not unusual to
find galleries and museums open till late, so we decided to go in. The Tate has
just opened its door to a newly refurbished building and we were looking forward
to seeing it. At that time of the evening, all was quiet and we had the Tate
all to ourselves. We could see works by Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud in
perfect solitude, as if they were hanged in our own living room. There was also
a very interesting exhibition of the work of Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama.
All was quiet and peaceful, nobody disturbed us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We were
thinking about leaving when, all of a sudden, a door opened and a group of
people appeared. They obviously didn’t expect to find us there. “How did you
get in? The museum has been closed for half an hour”. Apparently nobody had
noticed how we had entered through the main gate. They were really worried
because we could have been locked for the whole night. Imagine, like in the famous film. A very nice lady accompanied us to one of the side exits and we talked
about the renovation. At the end, we had our own little private visit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Some days
later, we decided to go to another museum after dark. This time it was the
Victoria and Albert Museum, which celebrates free events on the last Friday of
the month. This was the last of the </span><span lang="EN-GB">year, as the next one will take place on
January 31<sup>st</sup> and we didn’t want to miss it. </span>This
evening the topic was <i>Rules of Adornment</i>
and there were installations and performances, workshops, conferences, films,
catwalk shows and DJs, all revolving around the topic of body decoration and
identity. </div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">When we
arrived, we were greeted by the sounds of DJs Sam Peet and Tim Parker. The
museum didn’t look as the one we had visited with Darren one week before. It
looked like a big party, full of trendy people holding wine glasses and talking
among the statues next to the great hall, mixing with a group of waif models
that paraded Wha Lim collection, an emerald green dystopic version of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Renaissance. Lorenzo took out his
camera and started to shoot. There were dozens of people taking pictures at that
very moment, but the models decided to pose for him. </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jeuPr-Z9RpE/UqOPo2sxMgI/AAAAAAAABRw/n4T8T43ZqsI/s1600/MUS+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jeuPr-Z9RpE/UqOPo2sxMgI/AAAAAAAABRw/n4T8T43ZqsI/s640/MUS+03.JPG" height="640" width="419" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Next, we
moved to the Sackler centre, where the ilustration, graphic design and image
making collective <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brothers of the Stripe</i>
were holding a workshop.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">The artists were decorating the glass surface of the door and the walls of the room with different shapes of letters and illustrations in black and light blue. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the middle of the room there was a long table where you could choose a poster with a character design by the artists (a thug, a pin-up, an octopus...) and tatoo it using stamps of different shapes. It was really good fun, as you can see in the photos.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Then we
left the room and spent some time listening to the best music of the night,
played by DJ, sound artist and composer Gyorgy Ono, while having fun in one of
the spinning chairs you could find at the hall of the Sackler centre. Here you
can see me falling back while holding the octopus I had just decorated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ono’s music
was hypnotic and we spent some very relaxed and pleasant minutes looking at the
people around, most of them in their early twenties but dressed exactly with
the same clothes my friends and I used to wear in the early 1980s: black
trousers too short to reach the ankles, shoes with thick soles, and long flowery
shirts we never tucked in. It was like a blast from the past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EG5CfVeIejs/UqOR4tG7lbI/AAAAAAAABSw/CoLJ_Cckaxg/s1600/MUS+13.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EG5CfVeIejs/UqOR4tG7lbI/AAAAAAAABSw/CoLJ_Cckaxg/s640/MUS+13.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Then it was
time to have a break and we moved to the museum cafeteria, where we enjoyed a
wonderful piano concerto while sipping a drink. The pianist had the most
amazing hands, elongated and curved from the wrist, as if they were a product
of millions of years of evolution: hands perfectly adapted to playing at the
speed of a cheetah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v0d_-ovo2fY/UqOSLF8RcKI/AAAAAAAABS8/qX7vw0OOXmM/s1600/MUS+16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v0d_-ovo2fY/UqOSLF8RcKI/AAAAAAAABS8/qX7vw0OOXmM/s640/MUS+16.JPG" height="510" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We were
about to leave the museum when Lorenzo had to take his camera out again. A
group of cat women with their faces covered by masks of jewellery was coming
down the stairs. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The sinuous movement of the models bewitched the observer. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aTeZV9UWCYI/UqOSd_7UcQI/AAAAAAAABTM/oLhyzP6Wukk/s1600/MUS+18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aTeZV9UWCYI/UqOSd_7UcQI/AAAAAAAABTM/oLhyzP6Wukk/s640/MUS+18.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But
the best photo came at the end, when they retired to the adjacent room and sat
for a moment to rest. Here you can see the vulnerability behind the mask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VoHKwaoYcq0/UqOSgN8c91I/AAAAAAAABTU/DYtjJPD493I/s1600/MUS+19.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VoHKwaoYcq0/UqOSgN8c91I/AAAAAAAABTU/DYtjJPD493I/s640/MUS+19.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Two nights
at the museum, two new experiences. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Photo: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-32673893801570808792013-11-30T23:16:00.002+00:002013-12-01T11:35:25.779+00:00NOZOMU SEKINE, DARREN GORMLEY AND THE VICTORIA & ALBERT MUSEUM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PMDKb-CHFB0/Uppp3wunMXI/AAAAAAAABP0/PLtUkiS4nSo/s1600/portrait+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="534" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PMDKb-CHFB0/Uppp3wunMXI/AAAAAAAABP0/PLtUkiS4nSo/s640/portrait+10.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">One of the
most amazing persons I have ever met was a Japanese gentleman called Nozomu
Sekine. We were both studying French at the EOI Malaga when we met. Every year
he spent eleven months in Spain, where he studied and travelled. During the
other month, usually in spring, he travelled to Japan to visit his family. We
used to sit together in class, revise our homework and soon we became friends.
I introduced him to Carla and Lorenzo, who made his portrait. When his wife
visited him in Malaga, they came over for dinner. It was one of the most
enriching multicultural experiences I have ever had, guided by our friends Luis
and Noriko. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">One day, I
asked Nozomu, who was approaching the age of eighty: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t you miss your family in Japan, your wife, your children and
grandchildren?</i> He said: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes, but I
have so much to learn</i><i><o:p></o:p></i></span><i>…</i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Darren
Gormley is not thirty yet, but he has the same kind of spirit and I can
perfectly imagine him saying the same in fifty years’ time. He works visiting
people with dementia at their homes, on a one-to-one basis. His approach is
personal: he does something different with every person; sometimes it’s a
weekly game of backgammon or scrabble, others he just helps them with their
daily tasks. Often, he accompanies them to museums, concerts and other types of
events. And mainly he listens and listens and listens, because the people he
visits are wise and have a lot to share. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When
I started working on this, six years ago, I had no experience of culture. Now I
am a completely different person. Thanks to the people I visit (professors,
musicians...) I started visiting museums, going to exhibitions... Now if people
say that I have interests, it’s because of them. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">He also
writes a blog, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Making Dementia Care
Personal </i></span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><a href="http://www.darrengormley.co.uk/"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">www.darrengormley.co.uk</span></a></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> which is daring, brave and open. He
writes about topics such as gender roles in the caring profession, dementia
unfriendly communities, or the stigma of depression. He has also invited
contributors such as Sally Knocker, who has written about dementia from the
perspective of gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender persons. When he started the
blog last April, he did it on his own time, working in a sector that is not convinced about the idea, as if there was a contradiction between the
profession and the public nature of a blog or social networks like Twitter. But
he feels the opposite: a great percentage of the people who live with dementia
stay at home and what happens in their lives remains unknown. What he’s doing
is bringing the issues that arise in his daily work into the open and raising
people’s awareness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It was
risky, but fortunately his effort has been recognized and Darren has been
awarded two Older People Media Awards. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When
I heard my name, I felt actually sick. I never thought I was going to win. Then
I was there, posing with the awards and the only thing I wanted to do was to go
and show it to the people I am visiting.</i> They were delighted and proud of
Darren. They even wanted to have their photo taken with the awards. That was
definitely the best moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Darren’s
career choice was determined by the close connection he had with his
grandparents when he was a kid. In that time</span>, he used to take the bus to
visit them and felt really grown up when travelling alone. When we took number
eleven to go to the V & A museum, he told us that his favourite buses are
those that replicate the old models with the open door at the back. From those
trips he remembers that there was a conductor who sold the tickets and used to
sing out loud all along the journeys.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Once we
arrived at the museum, his favourite place in London, we walked around the
sculpture gallery and then sat at the wonderful cafeteria, decorated with
gorgeous stained glass windows and gigantic globe-like lamps. Here you can
taste one of the best café latte in the city.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Darren took out his computer and
showed as a video of him jumping off a plane with the purpose of raisin money to
help people with dementia in Kensington and Chelsea. He’s also going to run for
Alzheimer’s Scotland in next year’s Edinburgh Marathon. He has chosen this
organization for the breakthrough work they are doing. There’s another Scottish
connection: he did his MA on Dementia Studies in Sterling.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We finished
the day at Battersea Park’s athletics track, where Lorenzo photographed him
training with the shirt he’s going to wear at the marathon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Talking to
Darren is enriching and engaging. He’s a great listener and he has a lot to
say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Which
brings me back to my dearest friend Nozomu. A few weeks ago, when I stated the
blog, we sent him a link to Tokyo, where he moved back right before his
eightieth birthday. Some days later we received the saddest news from his
daughter Makiko: he passed away this May. She told us that he often wore the
scarf we gave him during his last winter. I still can’t believe it. In my mind Nozomu
would live to one hundred. He still had so much to learn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Photo: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></span></div>
Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-78534994454424413102013-11-18T18:51:00.000+00:002014-08-16T21:36:23.483+01:00THE MUDDY BEAUTY OF THE THAMES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">One of the
really good things about the Reminiscence Group is that you have the
opportunity to discover new things about London through the eyes of its
dwellers. For example, last Monday Ted brought me a newspaper cutting of an
article by Will Self. The famous writer talked about his lifelong obsession
with the Thames, which had led him to walk on the foreshore of the river until
he found himself immersed thigh-deep in the muddy water. What Ted suggested was
not so extreme: there is a Thames path you can take along the river, from
Monument to the Isle of Dogs on the northern shore and from Greenwich to London
Bridge in the south. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Living so
near Greenwich, we had already experienced the lively activity on the river. In
fact, not so many weeks ago, Pam and I discovered a very ancient boat, one
hundred years older than the Cutty Sark, anchored in front of the Royal Naval
College. It was going to stay there for three days before being towed all the
way to Australia. Also, when you walk along the river at night, you can see the
lights of the boats that cross it and, on a sunny day, you can choose to travel
to Central London by boat instead of taking the underground. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So taking a
long walk along the river seemed like a good opportunity to see London from a
new perspective, and this is what Lorenzo and I decided to do last Sunday,
following Ted’s advice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We opted to
walk along the south bank from Greenwich to London Bridge. I must say that the
experience was quite disappointing. We started following the riverbank, but
soon were diverted inland and we stopped seeing the water. There were signals
that read “Thames Path”, but they just took us along streets full of ugly
buildings, and whenever we got to the river, the sights were pretty depressing.
So, we decided to return to Greenwich and cross the underwater tunnel that
leads to the Isle of Dogs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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This
70-metre foot tunnel was built in 1902 and is now being repaired, although you
can still use it. It’s quite an experience, especially if you are a little bit
claustrophobic, because you can’t avoid thinking that you are under the river.
I used to cross this tunnel a lot when I lived in London twenty years ago, and
it hasn’t changed so much. The only difference is that now we can use the
original lifts, which were being repaired in 1992, so I had to go up and down
the long spiral staircase every time I wanted to visit Greenwich market.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Once you
get to the Isle of Dogs, you can see in front of you the Canary Wharf building,
one of the landmarks of the Docklands area. If you turn towards the river in Island
Gardens, the views are impressive: you can see the Royal Naval College and, to
the left, the old power station with its four majestic chimneys. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We decided to
walk eastwards and reach the Thames Barriers. Here the path follows the river
almost constantly and you can see old and newly renovated buildings with a view
to the river. It’s a really pleasant walk where you can meet people with their
dogs or riding their bikes. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">From time to time you can reach a concrete slipway
full of pebbles and moss that leads to the muddy shore. Every time a boat goes
past, the waves lap the concrete and you must be careful not to get your feet
wet. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">As you walk, you can see new landmarks on the opposite bank, like the huge
dome of the O2 Arena.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Eventually,
the path took us back to the road and, to our surprise, we saw the Canary Wharf
in front of us again.</span></div>
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We had not realized that the Thames meanders around the
isle, so we had almost returned to the starting point. Then we realized that
the Barriers might not be as near as we thought. Fortunately, there are nice
pubs along the way where you can stop for a pint and have a rest. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We decided
to go on and eventually we reached the futuristic-looking barriers.</span></div>
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<br />
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></div>
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The first
time we learned about their existence was ten years ago, when London was
bidding for the Olympics and we saw an advert in the underground that showed
some swimmers posing as if they were about to jump from the barriers into the
river. Since that moment, they stayed at the back of our minds.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">These amazing
works of engineering were built in the 1970s with the purpose of controlling
the floods of the river. Jason, the caretaker of the university building in
Woolwich, told Lorenzo that he used to swim from one barrier to the other when
he was a kid, which is something he wouldn’t recommend now. Looking at the
barriers you have the feeling of having been teleported in time and space; they
would fit perfectly into the sets of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mad
Max</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Planet of the Apes</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WoZWJZGTDIQ/Uopg-vXhKlI/AAAAAAAABO4/oskXs5P6jog/s1600/ok+02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WoZWJZGTDIQ/Uopg-vXhKlI/AAAAAAAABO4/oskXs5P6jog/s640/ok+02.JPG" height="456" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Once you
pass this part of the river, you can take the ferry that takes you to Woolwich,
in the south bank. From there you can take the bus back to Greenwich.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The day was
cold and grey but the light was perfect to enhance the beauty of the Thames.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p>Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></o:p></span></div>
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Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-61836835432118697362013-11-09T20:55:00.000+00:002014-01-06T22:25:57.901+00:00REMINISCENCE TRAINING: A CELEBRATION OF MEMORIES<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Every
Monday I participate in a reminiscence group in North London. It’s part of my
apprenticeship, which began with a two-day course as soon as I arrived at the
end of September. Pam was kind enough to offer me a place in this scheme, and
she also invited Lorenzo to participate.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EE0Pjdj10wg/Un6a6KQ3EYI/AAAAAAAABLA/rCq1awHrY-U/s1600/_DSC2109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EE0Pjdj10wg/Un6a6KQ3EYI/AAAAAAAABLA/rCq1awHrY-U/s400/_DSC2109.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">The
students who took part in this course came from the most diverse backgrounds but had a common interest in reminiscence. Some had ample experience in
social work; for example, Kate Moffatt, Julia Statman and Darren Gormley work
visiting people with dementia who live alone. Kate told me it’s difficult to
imagine how many lonely people live in this city, some of them for not having
children, others for having their relatives too far away. Others use art as a
way or reaching to people: Reena Clare, a sweet girl from Malaysia, uses her
amazing drawing skills to illustrate people’s memories and Jo McCauley, who comes
from Donegal, uses music to awaken
reminiscence. There were other artists, like Australian documentary maker and
storyteller Dvora Liberman or Dutch painter Marenka Gabeler. Marenka has a very
special relationship with the preservation of memory, as she’s making a project based on her dear
grandma, who suffers from Alzheimer’s and lives in Holland. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I’d
recommend you to visit Marenka’s <a href="http://beppeproject.tumblr.com/">blog</a> in which you can find more about this beautiful work.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">There were
other participants I would like to mention here: Genevieve Rudd, Margaret
Roberts, Joy Kirkup and specially my friend Christine Novy, a very enterprising
woman who came all the way from Canada and who is about to start her own
reminiscence group over there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o11c7oyM3uQ/Un6awahWJhI/AAAAAAAABKw/6deG_Nt6XA0/s1600/_DSC2056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o11c7oyM3uQ/Un6awahWJhI/AAAAAAAABKw/6deG_Nt6XA0/s640/_DSC2056.JPG" height="313" width="640" /></a><span lang="EN-GB">The second
part of the apprenticeship consisted on joining the reminiscence group I have
mentioned before. Only Marenka, Julia, Reena, Dvora, Jo and Kate decided to
move on to this stage. I must say that I am impressed by the way they manage to make older people feel comfortable. I learn from them every day and I
think they’ll become great facilitators. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xeaZ_d6xWHQ/Un6bOMb5OsI/AAAAAAAABLI/FLrhsFlSsco/s1600/_DSC2421.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xeaZ_d6xWHQ/Un6bOMb5OsI/AAAAAAAABLI/FLrhsFlSsco/s400/_DSC2421.JPG" height="376" width="400" /></a></div>
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In the
reminiscence group we work together with a group of veterans: Pam and Caroline
Baker are the energetic leaders, Sue and Kate also give a hand. Kate started to
come to the reminiscence groups as a carer and, when her husband passed away,
she continued as a volunteer. Sue always brings delicious homemade cakes for
tea. They are joined by Jill and Ciare from Camden carers, the social workers
who are the links with the families. And let’s not forget the man of the house,
Alex, Pam’s husband, who is a great listener and has the ability of making
people feel at ease (he’s also a great photographer).</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mfg5dEMXVOM/Un6bPsKjh_I/AAAAAAAABLQ/v_InAinukwo/s1600/_DSC2424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mfg5dEMXVOM/Un6bPsKjh_I/AAAAAAAABLQ/v_InAinukwo/s400/_DSC2424.JPG" height="325" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">On the
first day, we met the rest of the participants. These are
fascinating people with amazing lives to tell. For instance, Hermione, one of
the stars in the group, followed the air force operations in Malta during World
War II (when I suggested that she had been a spy, she started to giggle). Tom
used to work in a brewery, where he met Fay, a remarkable woman with a cockney
accent who is also an amateur singer and actress at the age of 77. Lyn used to
ride around London in her Vespa when she was 17 and taught a little girl with
no arms how to manage herself using her feet. Ludwig was in the commandoes and
was (still is) a man who knows how to charm a lady. Lucy left her home at the age of 14 to work as a
maid in Dublin. Trudy was evacuated to a farm in Cornwall during the Second
World War. This memory cannot leave her. She’s amazed as how vivid it is
compared to the sometimes blurry memories of what she did recently. June is an expert
dancer. </span> Shirley is one of the persons who amaze me the most. In the first
session, she looked a bit lost, but thanks to reminiscence and the expertise of
my fellow apprentice Kate, she’s making incredible progress and now is one of the keenest participants in the group.<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lCeD72Xlyx4/Un6bTGNwAII/AAAAAAAABLY/wnm56kkkqms/s1600/_DSC2472.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lCeD72Xlyx4/Un6bTGNwAII/AAAAAAAABLY/wnm56kkkqms/s400/_DSC2472.JPG" height="313" width="400" /></a></div>
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What do we
do in these sessions? Basically, we help people to remember and share their memories. Each meeting has a
topic: childhood, school, my first job, going out, weddings and relationships,
etc. Pam suggests different exercises that facilitate the recovery of these
memories. We never ask them
questions; we are just there to listen to what comes to their minds. Being able
to remember and seeing how the rest of the participants celebrate what they say gives them confidence, and their relatives confirm that they are more
open at home and look forward to the sessions. Also, these meetings give members of the same family or friends the opportunity to do something pleasant and rewarding together.<br />
<br />
At the
beginning I was also a bit lost. I was afraid of not understanding the people, of
not knowing how to relate to them. But they made me feel welcome and at ease
from the very first moment. Now I look forward to see them every Monday.</div>
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Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez <a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059346530985438526.post-24905049820153506932013-11-03T21:14:00.000+00:002014-08-16T21:32:26.417+01:00LORENZO'S TIPS FOR LONDON<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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When people
come to London, they tend to do the same things and go to the same places. But
there are ways of spending a day in London with a little bit of imagination.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Lorenzo
spends many of his days going to Central London to try to show his portfolio in
the fashion magazines, he had done his research and showed Carla and me what to
do last weekend. </div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">
First, there are two things you mustn’t forget when you leave your house: the
umbrella and the sandwich (there’s no need to go to Macdonald’s). If you use
your imagination, you can eat better than in the most fashionable cafe. Go to
Sainsbury’s and choose between the delicious three for two bagels and buns,
covered in poppy or sunflower seeds. You can fill them with cherry tomatoes
(here they taste really sweet), salad, ham and cheddar cheese. Don’t forget to
add a bit of oregano and olive oil (we brought a 5 litre bottle from Spain).</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BDW4pdbM6A0/Unae9knn7VI/AAAAAAAABJs/0-Dfj5dlpXA/s1600/BUS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BDW4pdbM6A0/Unae9knn7VI/AAAAAAAABJs/0-Dfj5dlpXA/s400/BUS.JPG" height="313" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB">Forget
about spending the day in the underground. It’s much better to take a
double-decker bus. From the one we take, number 53, you can see the London Eye and the River walk. It’s the best way to get to know the city. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">There are
many interesting art galleries around Central London where you can see the
works of the great masters and the newest artists. In the Halcyon Gallery at 144-146 New Bond Street you
can visit the Master Editions: works by Picasso, Dali, Miro, Chagall, Degas,
Henry Moore, Warhol, Renoir, and
even Rembrandt; all for sale. And you can walk around freely, not like in
certain museums I won’t mention here.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Another
interesting exhibition you can see in the same street, at number 134 is the one of Joe Black at the Opera Gallery. This artist reproduces famous photos in big
format using different types of materials like toy soldiers (Obama), nuts and
bolts (Margaret Thatcher) or badges (Marilyn Monroe). He had sold almost
everything in just a couple of days.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">And if you
are a lover of good photography, we recommend you the Atlas Gallery at 28 Cork
Street, near Baker Street.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TolrVpGGchc/UnafAaVmRLI/AAAAAAAABJ0/_uLQmyYYywY/s1600/CARLA.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TolrVpGGchc/UnafAaVmRLI/AAAAAAAABJ0/_uLQmyYYywY/s640/CARLA.JPG" height="410" width="640" /></a></div>
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And if you
happen to be in the company of a young lady, like Carla, you can enjoy walking
around the trendy shops in New Bond street. She loves Victoria Secret, which is
like Woman's Secret taken to the theatre.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">You can also find art in the shop windows, as you can see in this photo, taken at Harvey Nichols stores in Knightsbridge. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XI6vMtr22Z4/Unae57MdYiI/AAAAAAAABJc/t1CsS0YEF6A/s1600/ESCAPARATE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XI6vMtr22Z4/Unae57MdYiI/AAAAAAAABJc/t1CsS0YEF6A/s640/ESCAPARATE.JPG" height="640" width="590" /></a></div>
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At
lunchtime you have your choice for parks: Hyde Park, Green Park, St. James
Park... and take a seat in one of their comfortable benches. Here you can enjoy
watching the people around, their multicultural variety. This time of the year
you can also play with the squirrels.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LKJS7QhaU38/Unae7gxzq5I/AAAAAAAABJk/lR-AfX5yqFg/s1600/NESPRESSO.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LKJS7QhaU38/Unae7gxzq5I/AAAAAAAABJk/lR-AfX5yqFg/s640/NESPRESSO.JPG" height="386" width="640" /></a></div>
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For coffee,
you have three places to choose from the tastiest coffee in the city: the
Nespresso shops. There’s one near Harrod’s, one near Picadilly Circus and the
other in Marble Arch.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VuD8gPwHUXQ/Unae4yPBUKI/AAAAAAAABJU/sGR29WEz3C0/s1600/MARTA+EN+PICADILLY.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VuD8gPwHUXQ/Unae4yPBUKI/AAAAAAAABJU/sGR29WEz3C0/s640/MARTA+EN+PICADILLY.JPG" height="494" width="640" /></a></div>
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And if you
want to listen to good music, an interesting option if to watch out for the
concerts given by students from music schools. Here the level is really high
and it’s a delight to listen to young kids mastering jazz pieces. For example, last Tuesday Lorenzo and me
enjoyed a bit of jazz in Blackheath Great Halls performed by students from the
Trinity Laban Conservatoire.</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">London is
being a real source of inspiration for the three of us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez </span><a href="http://www.photolorenzohernandez.com/">www.photolorenzohernandez.com</a></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Marta Morenohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17579989664646536487noreply@blogger.com12