Last night, I inhaled Woody Allen's love letter to the City of Lights FOR A SECOND TIME in as many days. I strolled around Paris on a warm spring evening, pausing on the bridges, felt the cobblestones under my feet and the rain in my hair...Okay, granted - I'm in love with Paris - But, why should YOU see the movie? Here are my top 10 reasons: 10. "It's the present, it's dull" is a line from the movie. Have you ever been annoyed by the banality of our current culture? Have you ever wished for a portal to take you to another time, say 20s Bohemian Paris specifically? If so, this could be the film for you! 9. You may have a billion reasons to criticize Woody Allen, but he celebrates everyone on his team equally. He shows this by listing the actors in alphabetical order. I noticed that in the late seventies & he still does it. Good on him! 8. To hear Adrien Brody playing Dalí, when he tries to pronouce 'rhinoceruses' while probing the perplexing, surrealist and Freudian depths of Gil's psyche. Estupendo! 7. To hear Cole Porter crooning his hommages to Paris like “I Love Paris” and “C’est Magnifique.” Ahhhhhh . . . 6. Mistress and muse Marion Cotillard. She's just plain hot! 5. Hemingway & Fitzgerald - 'nuff said! 4. Was 'The Purple Rose of Cairo' one of your faves? If so, Allen's newest time machine may be right up your alley, or allée. 3. The enormously talented cast of bohemians in the film, with a special nod to: 2. Kathy Bates who plays straight-shooting mother hen to the artists Gertrude Stein. Brilliant casting! Et, enfin -- the # 1 reason you should see the movie is: 1. Paris, of course!!!! From the opening postcard montage of the City of Lights it's clear that Khondji's sensual cinematography will easily whisk us away, not just to Paris, but to the nostalgic Paris that every writer & artist I know has fantasized about at one time or another - the Paris of cafes & jazz, of wine & absinthe, and especially of a place where artists could thrive! Owen Wilson's character talks about how great living cities such as Paris eclipse manmade art today and how inspiring an environment CAN be when it is viewed as a work of art and not just a series of boxes that people inhabit. I believe I may not be alone in that upon walking out of the theatre, I wished that I'd turn the corner to find the feel of cobblestone underfoot, a light mist on my cheek lit up by Parisian lampposts and backed by a twinkling Eiffel Tower or romantic bridge. Ahh Paris - Je te reviens! TartanFrog
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I chose Hurricane Juan, but any disaster will do! Below is the beginning of a short story I was rewriting yesterday. See where you go with it . . . On the night Hurricane Juan slammed Nova Scotia, I sat next to the window watching a tree shielded with tiny clinging birds. The wind screamed. Fat with leaves, the tree strained until one whole branch began cracking. The birds flew in all directions. The cracking grew louder and another branch severed from the tree. As the scene was repeated I couldn’t take my eyes off the destruction. At dawn only the tree trunk was left. Shadows disguised by camouflage arrived later to chop the rest of the trunk. In the end, a gaping hole in the ground disappeared, the earth filling itself up. It was as if the tree had never been there. One morning not that after that last tree was chopped I . . . Have a great week everyone, TartanFrog Artist: Nathan Bray It's quite possibly a mid-life crisis, but less than 24 hours ago I sent a message to my closest friends asking them: Could you simply send me an e-mail and let me know: If you HAD to choose an object that reminds you of me - What would that object be??? Well the answers came pouring into my in-box invigorating me with their warmth, and wisdom, and even a bit of psychic nature to some of them. One answer, however, made me pause: "This, darling Dina, is a difficult question because you are such an airy spirit that I remember you typically in the door with a bewildered expression and a dramatic gesture raising a question that will keep everybody's mind happily employed for at least until supper. With gestures and mimics like that and ideas popping up in lush multitude, this distracts a lot from what you might have been carrying in your bag at any particular day. I think there are few people that I have gotten to know in this life that love ideas so much and care for things so little as you. . . " Although the loving ideas part is no doubt true & paramount, the beginning of that answer surprised me because I am very attached to those things that are somehow connected to those I love. And very finicky about them: Ode to my Barcelona Teapot I used to have a beautiful large teapot (you guessed it, I bought it in Barcelona). It was wide on the bottom and very heavy, but it felt so right and reminded me of you, and also of my friend Heather and of Kathy Mac. Whenever I'd make a pot of tea in that teapot it felt as if I were summoning you all to my imaginary table. I broke that teapot about ten years ago and haven't been able to replace it. I keep hoping that the right teapot will find me. I poke around whenever I'm on a holiday - I know it's hiding, somewhere, waiting . . . Someone gave me a teapot, but it's not THE ONE - they didn't know me well enough. It may sound ungrateful, but it's true: A teapot may be an object, but once it's been shared with close friends it begins to emit mysterious past conversations as aroma shadows whenever another conversation begins. Without even being conscious of them, those past conversations encourage us to link and connect ideas from those previous conversations and build upon their wisdom. I believe this cross-pollination of ideas is a harvest made possible by the presence of the simple teapot. The teapot may be physical, but it creates a hospitable space that reminds me of kitchen table wisdom - very distinct from my usual conversations which center around coffee and command intellectual dexterity. And now, since neither THE teapot nor my wisest women goddess friends are here at the moment - I shall, a traitor, fall back on my trusted coffee. Have a great weekend all, TartanFrog This is your new blog post. Click here and start typing, or drag in elements from the top bar.
The sun's out & I'm not recommending any Haligonian events for you! Instead, the following activity can be done anywhere: - bask in the freedom of a lazy Saturday or Sunday (if you can); - embark on long contemplations about those loved ones who have inspired you. I've been scrutinizing my motivations for writing novel # 2. It's about "an ordinary woman from Cape Breton, who, for a brief moment in time, believed she was meant for an extraordinary life". I believe we're all guilty, at one time or another, of wasting precious time on the ordinary when we could be living extraordinary, and that doesn't have to mean living an ECTOPLASM OF HYSTERIA... ...it can simply mean looking at what others may think is ordinary and seeing the absolute beauty and extraordinary in it. Every day, the extraordinary is all around us -- disguised as ordinary. When we take time to notice it, ordinary begins to shine, sprouts wings and launch into the air, radiating energy and joy with each flap. Miracles happen. This was the gift I received from my parents and one I offer freely to you. In honour of this gift from my parents I wrote to one of my extraordinary friends to remind her of that extraordinariness: Dear Beloved Friend, Of course next summer would be wonderful, but if we went twenty or thirty years without seeing one another, our bond of friendship would still not retire in my heart. And we will again sit together sipping wine on a lazy afternoon (where I promise there will be no flying monsters) wearing orange pants and solving the world's then unanswered philosophical questions. We will talk about your children's children and what wonderful and meaningful life paths they have chosen. How liberating those days of orange pants (and, in my case, the leapard tights) were for me. I will never forget those days... They may have been brief, but they were (don't mind the cliche) they were golden. These deep friendships are dear in this life. Thank you for your e-mail [name withheld]. I hope that besides the extra pounds (which, btw, I've also packed on since I quit smoking) you are well. Besides, in my heart, you are as radiant and as beautiful as ever!! As for me, it was a challenging winter - I felt overwhelmed much of the time and also missed my Mom who passed away last summer. I also found myself squaring off with that Scorpion rising in me which you so perceptively identified. Another dear friend who you met I think, Stephanie (a Sun Scorpio) sent me a newsletter that said everything we're repressing and refusing to express is seeping through the floor boards of consciousness and that we're bound to be more beastly than princely during these times. That's Scorpio for you! There's a quote by Goethe that I love and for some reason, I'm thinking of it today as I write to you, because it highlights the power of magic present in these times, across oceans, as providence moves to bring us together, simply because we both believe in the bold genius, power & magic of our dream to reunite: "Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe I send you all my love. I hope you are feeling immense joy in the company of your beautiful family. Wishing you all the magic the other side can muster....Dina Yes, I'm late -- BUT I WAS ON VACATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1. In honour of her 100th - Saturday, June 4: Sandra Barry will sign Elizabeth Bishop: Nova Scotia’s "Home-Made" Poet, noon-1:30 p.m., at Chapters, Bayers Lake, and 2:30-4 p.m. at Coles, Halifax Shopping Centre. "I love a) the interview with Bishop in the Paris Review, b) her "Moose poem" and c) the one about the village that I quote in my second novel. 2. In honour of Ocean's Day: Arts and the Sea: A Celebration Wednesday, June 8th, 7-10 pm Location: Scotiabank Auditorium, McCain Building, Dalhousie University, 6135 University Avenue Ocean-Inspired Artists include: Kathy Mac, poet Dusan Kadlec, painter Donna Morrissey, author Scott Macmillan, composer Jennyfer Brickenden, librettist Hosted by Paul Kennedy (of CBC Ideas) Admission is free, with a reception and cash bar to follow the event. For more information, please call 494-1977 or visit www.dal.ca/ioihfx 3. Mark you Calendar!! Thursday, June 9th. The Halifax Monk Writers meet at my house, 7 pm. Please contact me through website for more information. 4. I've mentioned before how much photography inspires me: From the Coast: "Painter Jonathan Johnson goes for the abstract aesthetic in his latest exhibition titled New Paintings. . ." Most pieces focus on Canadian cities with the notable exception of the beautiful Paris scene on the left called View from Pont Neuf. To June 17, Gallery Page & Strange, 1869 Granville Street, 422-8995 Great weekend to one & all, TartanFrog I'm back, but can't find my contest book - please write to tell me where you think I put it!!!!!6/2/2011 Photo : Voyage d'une cage Auteur : Anne Victoria Photo To link to more photos by Anne Victoria please click on the photo Back from the national Humanities Congress where the non-fiction book I co-wrote was having its debut and CAN NOT FIND MY CONTEST MANUAL. Besides I'm too immersed in the rejigging of two excerpts for submission. May you find some writerly or dreamy inspiration from my musing about the photo above: In the opening chapters of Cages, the character of Sabine moves to the fictitious village of Papillion. 'They' say that there is a piece of us in every character and it is definitely the case that while writing about Sabine, I've been reminded of those foggy days standing on the wharf watching my father's fishing boat, first shrinking and then disappearing altogether. The photograph above (from the Shutter Sisters) reminds me of how much those quiet moments, interrupted mostly by the sound of seagulls was where I aired out my dreams. Those dreams may have remained in the cage, but that is where they were first exposed to the call of the birds circling above. If you're feeling the need to let your dreams take a long overdue breath of fresh air - consider heading to Cape Breton where I grew up - there are too many places along the coastline to mention one only. Perhaps it's best if you just show up and let the place find you! Proud Caper, TartanFrog |
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December 2015
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