So this is Christmas . . .?

Quickly, quickly,baking, wrapping, playing with child so he doesn't grow up deprived, smiling at husband and trying not to faint. And swearing, of course in my mind, do not want to upset Santa, why I didn't start in August with the preparations. It should be a rule of thumb, when the shops strategeically places their first plastic Santa replica in your eye height, then you should start buying presents and sending cards. And I didn't, so here I am. But there is a deadline, this is a positive, that differs from the everyday panic that I do not seemt to be able to shake, when we all sit down at the Christmas Eve table, and tuck in. And then I see the expectation in my sons eyes, which fills me with Christmas spirit and joy and I would do it all over again in a heart beat.

Merry Christmas everyone, let's enjoy eachother and Thank God that we have each other.
God Jul och Vesele Vanoce !

Veronika

In Search of Imagination

My boy is at home sick, the weather is dismal and the crisis is hitting everyone around. No matter the brave faces everyone is affected. It is a hard climate on the job market or free lance market or business market, everyone is holding on to what they have and any treasures are not shared but are hidden deep in the mattresses. I know,  I do the same.  And in such a hard environment, the impact of the reality around you is hard, unforgiving and brutal and dreams are hard to come by.

And it is exactly in this moment when imagination is of utmost importance. We need to dream, invent, fantasize and be inspired (can one be inspired without imagination?).  But why are good, visionary ideas so scarce (are they)?  According to Richard Kearney in his book “The wake of Imagination” (ok an old book, but with a lot of wisdom) we live in a society where the image has taken over from the book as a artistic authentic impression. The image is so closely linked to a consumerist view of reality that “the image precedes the reality it is supposed to represent – reality has become a pale reflection of the image””And so we observe that “art images” increasingly serve as parodies of “commercial images” while commercial images serve as parodies of “art images” “art has become anti art”. This confusion threatens to hollow out the culture heritage that has been growing since the beginning of civilisation. Of course, this has always happened, civilisation is nothing static but is a living evolving being that will be affected by different influences. But one should be careful of what impressions we are submitting upon our fragile imagination. Since the world rejects vacuum so the void after a rejected impression, will be filled with something, the commercial imaginary that is, but it is a artificial imaginary since it is primarily commercial and not creative and it threatens to affect more areas of our mind than only the imagination, or as Kearney writes “our inner unconscious has not been spared”. It affects also our expectations of life (the notion that one has to be ecstatically happy every second of the day and if not then something is wrong, is something new and something we have been fed recently) or views of relationships (now the family is not a permanent fundament and marriages are expected to last only a few years) and even how we view ourselves and our role in society (men should be metrosexual and women “emancipated”). Proudly did we get rid of taboos, got rid of tradition and in the name of liberation we agreed that anything is possible. But haven’t we “thrown the baby out with the bathwater” so to speak? I believe so. I believe we have lost more than we have gained and therefore I want to use my humble blog to get back to basics. No, I will not revert my household to the 1700 nor will I throw every bit of modern technology out the window. No, I want to remind you, whoever you are, and myself about the meaning of imagination since it is important to know what we as a society have lost and if some lucky loner still posses it, know what he/she should be careful not to lose.

Kearney have identified “4 main meanings of the term imagination:

1)      The ability to evolve absent objects which exists elsewhere, without confusing these absent objects with things present here and now.

2)      The construction and/or use of material forms and figures such as paintings. Statues, photographs etc. To represent real things in some “unreal” way

3)      The fictional projection of non-existent things as in dreams or literary narratives

4)      The capacity of human consciousness to become fascinated by illusions, confusing what is real with what is unreal”

Our mind, fantasy is a fantastic treasure but a treasure that will be lost if we do not exercise it. So my suggestion is, sit back, close your eyes and let your mind wander . . . .

Happy day dreaming!

Thinking is painless . . . for most!

Many years ago, a friend of mine asked me, How do you do to have ideas? I tried to answer her, embarrassed as I was, almost as much as her, as truthfully as I could while I tried to think of what it was she actually meant? She was an intelligent girl, surely she had some clue of how to actually conceive ideas? I lost contact with her, for different unpleasant reasons, but I have through the years often thought back to this question. It is a question that to me sounds so odd (like how do you breath) that maybe there is something in it. Can it really be so that there are people, without ideas? Aren’t ideas something fundamentally human, like speech?

Ideas by itself is nothing, you cannot have ideas in a vaccum, there has to be something triggering them. For me, ideas are intrinsically linked to interest and to the question “what if? Artists tend to have an interest in things humane, how people live, thought processes and destinies etc.  Engineers in machines and construction. Economists in how companies find their ways in markets. But the process for the idea to take shape is the same. You look at an issue, something of substance to you and then you start playing with it, like a small child asking 56 questions a second, until something grabs you as an alive entity, strong enough to stand on its own. Suddenly you have before you something, a model of something that is universal and true. Simple.

But there are crucial moments in this with the most dangerous part being the part of playing. You have to let the idea spiral, or as my professor used to say, one has to keep knocking on the door of imagination, you have to let it go, work on it, do not let it stop. It means you have to stand your ground, looking for the truthful moment and not be affected by fashions and how “other peole do it”. Stay clear of quick fixes and look for the genuine. But that in turn means that you have to know what you want, you have to know what your “story” is and stick to it.

Today I find to my amazement, a world around me full of artists. People who never in their life showed any interest in the arts, never even been to the museums, never read a proper piece of literature, suddenly finds the need to express themselves through an artistic medium. Just look at all the talent shows where thousands line up, all claiming to have a need to express themselves. How come, what has happened?

My explanation to this, could be consider slightly radical, so please be ware, is that there is too much shit around. Everywhere you turn, you find quick fixes, where ever you go you find clichés, already conceived ideas (by someone else) who are being put together with other stolen ideas to create something that resemble a piece of art. But it doesn’t have anything alive in them, just aesthetics, if you are lucky. We need to clean it out and put it in the right place because what it does, is it desensitise us from seeing the true expressions. We need to start asking for more and not settle for a fast food concept of thinking. We need to think more, not meditate, not humhum sitting with your legs crossed, just purely think and see where it will take you.  It could be on a fantastic adventure or romantic situation. It could be a hilarious concept or a fantastic piece of art. And it will be only yours

So try, let’s have some ideas, trust me it doesn’t even hurt !

Spiritual eating

There is a place in Glastonbury that is extraordinary for me, and there is a place in the place that is just my absolute favourite building. It is the Kitchen in the Glastonbury Abbey. It is such a fantastic place, it is one big square chimney where in every corner, they cooked something different, one corner was for baking, one for meats, one for fish and one for veggies, incredible. This place is such an inspiration because it shows me that creativity and spirituality can be found in many fields. The monks at the abbey, had the great church for their spirituality, of course but they also had the food from this kitchen (one of four(!)) they had the blossoms and later the fruits from the orchards.

In the Abbey kitchen, next to the door is a prayer which reads:

Give me a good digestion, Lord

And also something to digest

Give me a healthy body, Lord

With sense to keep it at its best

Give me a healthy mind, O Lord

To keep the good and pure in sight

Which seeing wrong is not appalled

But finds a way to put it right

Give me a mind that is not bored

That does not whimper,

                                Whine or sigh

Don’t let me worry overmuch

About that fussy thing called I

Give me a sense of humour, Lord

Give me the grace to see a joke

To get some happiness from life

And pass it on to other folk

That is a prayer, for everyday and for every home! And for everyone

To keep calm and carry on

For the first time, since I’ve started with this blog, I’ve been unsure what to write about. For the first time I’ve had an actual audience for what I’ve written and it, the audience, you,  has been very kind to me. I’ve actually met people who’ve read this blog and now I do not want to let them down. What can I write to make them read this blog more and more. I realise, of course, that this is the wrong question to ask. I cannot write to suit everybody and the question is whether anybody (apart from myself) expects me to?  I have to retrace my steps . . . I started this blog to show (and to remind myself of) that one’s creativity can get its expression in the smallest of things. You do not have to make super huge block buster films to satisfy your need as a creative film director. You do not have to write the big novel  that reveals the truth about life and death to be a writer. And you do not have to exhibit in national galleries to be a painter. You can do all the above in your everyday life, in the kitchen, in the garden or on family walks in the fields. What you mustn’t do is ever, ever give up and “don’t do”. I have done this terrible dead of “not doing” for too long and as long as they will be selling small note books in Tesco, or cheap digi cameras in Argos (found one that looks like it is built in Lego, so sweet,  I just need to have it! ), there is now way I will be giving up again . . .No matter who much you ask me to ; )

Let's Nigella the garden!

The branches are becoming bare, and the smell of slow rottening leafes is spreading. My veggies are coming to a culmination, tomatoes hangs so heavy that I need to prop them up with sticks. It is harvest time. This year I planted a couple of Artichoke plants (they were on sale and it felt like a little bit of extra luxury). I planted them all but forgot to read the label that came with them, and I didn’t realise that they grow to a height of ca 1m 40cm and they need a lot of space (I planted them next to the very productive tomato plants) so only one survived. But thanks god for that, there is only so much artichoke one can eat. This one little enormous plant is a monster of 5 heads! But they are so yummy !!  And it really is such a romantic luxury, I cooked one in just salted water and a little bit of lemon juice and my husband and I shared the leaves and dipped them in some homemade mayonnaise. To that a glass of chilled white wine, and suddenly all stressed from the day is gone, like magic.

So my plan for next year is to devote my raised beds to lovely, yummy, romantic, luxurious veggies, like the artichoke, like the plump red tomatoes, like maybe some courgettes? I want to plant them not only in my raised beds but also in my flower beds, an artichoke is a spectacular, structural plant as is the brussel sprouts (my has turned into a mutant size!), they could add a lot of interest to my flower beds that tend to be too restrained. I need something more wild in there, something that would reflect who owns the garden, that it isn't a nice old lady called Hilda. I think my mutant veggies are just the thing.

This year I also tried to grow root veggies from pots and it went very well, just needed to add some ash from our fireplace to the soil and the carrots really loved it. They won’t grow big but they will be sweet and tender and yes, luxurious.

I do not run a farm or a big commercial veggie field, I have a small kitchen garden and since my cooking for me is a creative outlet, my garden should be too, and it should look like one aswell, and contain things that inspire me. Make it romantic, passionate and sensual. Yes that’s right, let’s all Nigella the garden !

Return to lives past . . .

I’ve been writing lately, finally picking it up from 5 years ago. Because I used to write, all the time, diaries, things I’ve seen, unfinished synopsis  of “great” novels. Everything. My world for me was something you could write down, formulate. If you can’t describe it, it isn’t there. Then life started to demand attention and I obeyed, building a business, starting a family etc, but lately, the last couple of months, I’ve started again. I’ve started by writing down things I liked, that I heard on the radio, sentences, in a note book, then I started to develop them and now I am almost self going, my imagination has finally started to give me ideas for text. This is all basic, I think to proper writers, but for me it is a revelation. I was thrilled, and I have written note books full in these couple of months. Until last night. Last night, my writing went well, my stories were developing, my sentences felt relatively fresh and then I put the pen down (yes pen, my boy uses my computer to watch Shrek on and I am left with the pen), read through and realized that I cannot offer this text anymore. I am writing down what I know, the text ads its own (I believe the text has it’s own life, like words that sound different to when you pronounce the,) but when I try and pick up the idea, nothing new has been added. Can it be so that I am out of experiences, that I can dip into, to support my imagination? Can there really be something like running out of experience? So this morning I went for a walk, well, just up the garden for the latest batch of tomatoes, and walking back I looked over the field opposite my house, a view I’ve seen a thousand times at least, but this morning it made me stop in my tracks. Before me was something like out of a Turner painting (hey, the guy was a realist !), a soft fog rolled over the hills and the sun was barely shining through it making the melted frost glisten in the light. In the middle of this the cows were already calmly grazing the remains of the grass. And it hit me, as I felt my energy and inspiration return, this is what I lack, this is what I need and it dawned on me, when was the last time I picked up a painting album, when was the last time I read a real novel. When was the last time I was so submerged in a creative expression, either my own or someone else’s, that I have forgotten about news, politics and other garbage the info society is feeding us. Why is it important to me to know about every misery happening anywhere in the world, why am I supposed to know everything barely known people do, how does that help my own little life? I need an intellectual detox! We are fed so much pointless information, that only makes us aware of our own insignificance and the powerless lives we lead, when in fact it really isn’t like this. Life is glorious, it is inspiring and it is joyful. I feel I need to regain it, decide for it myself. Make up my own mind and have views not adapted. And this time I will not be detoured!

So let's pop some good music in the player, read a good book and take the camera (and my family, they can come to) for a walk.

What a lovely way to start a Sunday !

MAXimum friends

I have a friend, a great friend, someone I count as one of my closest ones. Yet, we do not have any common memories,(except when we got extremely drunk on a delicious Caribbean drink in her gorgeous flat in Boston, we all thought it was a lovely fruity juice, then the percentage kicked in and we all started to sway) like you have with your best mates growing up, we have shared some really fantastic conversations, but they seemed to be cut short, we never seemed to have finished them. Still she is very, very important to me. Maybe this is what real friendship is about? I do not have to see her every day, although of course I would love to, I do not have to speak to her every day, I just know that she is there and exists.

Hopping around through different countries and living in different places every so often, most of my friends are at a distance, most of my friends live in different realities from me but when we meet it is like these different realities go for a break and we can just chat. Of course places like Facebook, make it possible for me to follow their lives closer and I have to admit, sometimes I just stroll round the pictures my friends posted on their page just to get close to their reality for a while.

So what is it in a person that is not physically close to you, to be your friend, someone close. Of course I have my interpretations. You see, I believe in Angels, and I believe in an Angels many guises. Some of my friends are in my mind, Angel messengers, put on this Earth to tell me something or to kick my butt.  I think my before mentioned friend is one of them. Some other friend have just a piece of an Angel in them, something that makes me feel good and helps to steer me in the right direction. Some friends, now former friends, have fallen angels that fooled me for a while but then showed their face.

In any case, my friend Maxette, is to me the closest to an Angel I can find. Come to think of it, why don’t you decide for your self . . .

http://www.karibisktyogaskratt.se/

What do you mean?

Today is election time in Sweden and it is a historical opportunity the Swedes have. If the government would be re elected it would be the first time in 102 years that a right wing government is re elected. Amazing!

But viewing the election from a distance and reading the programs of the different parties, I realise that my Swedish have been side stepped. I speak and read an educated Swedish and suddenly I realise that the way media and political parties use words, that I of course know the meaning of, in another context. Some words are hi jacked so to speak, they do not mean what they are supposed to mean, but have received a political context.

One such word for me is Life style. If you say that “this is my life style” you suggest that you are a modern, politically correct (in itself a strange term, is there only one politic ?) and someone who is open to alternative life styles. Why not say way of life instead?

My conclusion of this is of course drawn towards the arts and more concretely art forms.

I believe that today the most important art form, something that should be prioritised, is Poetry. If we lose the poetry, we lose words and if we lose words we lose ourselves and our identity.

So what so I do with this new found insight. Well, I turn of the news, close the newspaper and look for my Stagnelius book.

Incorporating life

Leaving the cooking and gardening deep in the weekend and turning towards a very, hopefully productive week. I still find it a struggle though, going from one thing to another, this changing of hats, changing of identities. One minute you are a gardener, next the photographer, next a cook, next the filmmaker. And all the time being a mom on top of all that. But it is necessary, this is how my life looks like,(like so many other mothers life) and would I like to change anything, make it simpler, of course not! I just need to find the red line going through these activities, a state of mind that would fit to all. Find a way to relate. Because, at time, all of my activities need to be combined (writing a script and talking to my son while my husband needs me to find picture for the business and the wind is currently destroying the newly planted quince tree)


Currently when I write a script it absorbs so much more, actually almost everything I have, then anything else and I feel like a power station, that needs a fair bit of time to warm up to start generating the level of ideas I need. I therefore can’t hop easily between different hats, or the power station will choke out!

But I think I am getting there. I have lowered the ambitions in the house and garden (it really doesn’t need to look like “Country Living”), and I have started to play around and impose my creativity in the non suspicious garden. I have banned Cath Kidston in the house and started to incorporate things that inspire me. And my boy, well he is the source of infinite inspiration and joy and someone who makes sure my priorities are set straight so I do not fly off into la la land completely.

It is all a work in progress. Somewhere there is a definite link to join my life together into the creativity I need to express, but where the hell did I put it?

Saving summer

An amazing day today. It is almost mid September and the temperature was over 20 degrees Celsius. Fantastic, my son was running around the garden in his underwear, can’t do that at this time of year in Sweden. It is also my favourite time of year when nature reaches its maturity, bushes bear fruit, trees suffer under heavy crops and a slow decay of the spring flowers begins. It is the time of harvest.


What I have done today is an attempt to save the taste of this years garden for the wintermonths. I believe that every year the herbs and the fruits taste a little bit different and for every year I am also trying out different herbs. So I collected all the herbs growing in my garden, wild or planted and chopped them finely and let them dry. I tied them in small muslin parcels to be used in stews of sauces throughout the year.

Lovely, the smell is absolutely fabulous !

So what am I on about ?

My plan with this blog is to write about my way of living, wouldn't really call it a life style, sounds so fashionable, so intented and following a dogma. Do not like that, my way of living doesn't follow a dogma, it follows my history and the history of my family and my creativity. I am swedish/czech, my husband is Polish and we live in England. We have lived in several european countries and in every country we have picked up things, little habits that we like. I would during the year try and show you the habits that we have, show you the foody festivals we celebrate (cray fish festival every august, swedish midsommer feast etc.). So please allow me to use this blog as a sketch book for my thoughts and ideas about my life, my gardens life and my works life . . .who knows where it might lead !

Begin the beguine

Czech Potatoe Gulasch now that is soul food for an autumn day !
Just a quick note . .well it shouldn't be quick really since this is the first entry on my first ever blog, but my boy will only stay quiet for so long, so it will have to be extremely speedy. Autumn is here and so will also soon be the end of month when the vallet tends to start echoing whenever opened. So I wanted to share with you my grandmothers receipt for Czech Potatoe Gulasch. Not only is this extremely yummy, it is also cheap, wuick and very easy to make.
And here it is:
Pork sausages (the soft german kind, Lidls are exellent)
Potatoes (not new spuds, but the older kind)
Soured Cream
Flour
Caraway seeds (Polish shops have the best and cheapest, are called kminek)
Paprika (sweet) (Also in the Polish shops, called the same)

Cut sausages in chunks, peel and cut the potatoes in chunks and cover with water. Fry the sausages in some oil, sprinkle with a lot of paprika. Pour the potatoes with the water over the sausages and cook until the potaotes are soft. Add heaps of caraway seeds.
Mix Flour and Soured Cream to a paste, add some liquid from the Gulasch and combine. When pourable, pour over the sausages and potatoes. Eat emidiatelly or is very yummy the next day . . .if it lasts so long.
Enjoy
Ohh I hear screaming better go . . . .