A Japanese woman from another century walks on a path in front of the Ray and Maria Stata Center.
Made on iPad mini between June and September 2014, using ArtRage.
Author: koalie
Painting life
A clearing in the forest. A medium canvas on a wooden easel. I dreamt I was painting a woman.
She was standing, her back to me, in a pastel pink satin and organza dress. I was painting her neck, the fine strands of wavy hair rippling under her large-brim hat, around her silky shoulders.
My brush gave her life. She was free from the canvas and stood before me gazing at the forest and humming to herself, as I worked on her green-grey hat. It stirred gently in the wind and so did her auburn hair curling around her neck.
The forest murmured in the wind. The canopy swayed and rustled, patches of sun light danced on the ground. I kept weaving intricate straw braids on her hat. In a strong gust of wind, leaves fell from the trees –we shivered.
I stepped back when I was done and contemplated the canvas. Such disappointment! I looked at my fat brush, grudgingly. This wasn’t the right tool for such delicate work! Yet it seemed so perfect, so real moments before.
It was a beautiful dream within a strange dream.
I don’t paint very often and I don’t have an illustration of the mysterious auburn belle in pink, so all I can think of is this yellow iris in my parents’ garden that I drew on iPad last May.
My little adventure in my little room in London
When I opened the door to my little hotel room in London, I liked it immediately. Small but clear, crowded with two beds, but cozy. I noted the kettle and a good supply of freeze dried instant coffee, a tiny flat screen TV that I won’t watch high in a corner, flowery curtains at the window, a pair of cheap dark flowery paintings above the queen bed, two bedside lamps with flowery light shades. I sat at the tiny desk facing a mirror. This is when I noticed the lamp shades were crooked.
I made coffee and then looked for wifi. The password seemed all right but it was taking forever to get through. Airplane mode on and off didn’t help, so I rebooted my smartphone. This is when I PUK locked it. First time this happened to me!
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw my rather miserable expression –and a crooked lamp shade. I sorted out the PIN code situation using my laptop to hop on the wifi and find my PUK code, but the whole thing took a half hour.
At that point I rewarded myself by sorting out the vile crooked shades one! That required unscrewing each light bulb, removing the shade, unscrewing the flat ring, screwing it back upside down (or downside up?), resting down the lamp shade back on and screwing back the bulb.
It’s the little things.
Sur le terrain vague de l’ancienne laiterie
— Arrête de crapoter ! s’exclame-t-il, passablement excédé.
C’est un jeune garçon, il semble, dont la voix n’a pas mué. Il s’adresse à un autre garçon, dont la voix est encore plus enfantine.
Il y a un collège pas loin d’ici, alors ils se planquent sur le terrain vague de l’ancienne laiterie, à l’ombre des chênes, pour partager une clope. Ils sont juste derrière l’épaisse haie au fond du jardin.
J’aimerais apparaître devant eux et leur dire de crapoter –mieux, de jeter leur mégot, leur paquet de clopes et leur briquet, et d’aller se démarquer différemment. Faites du hip-hop si c’est votre truc, les gars !
Alors qu’ils continuent une conversation lambda, je songe à mes années collège.
Si un adulte est apparu alors que je clopais dans l’allée contiguë à la sortie de l’école, je l’ai oublié. S’il a parlé, j’ai oublié ce qu’il a dit. J’ai même oublié avec qui j’ai commencé à cloper.