Explore, dream, discover

Copyrights: Tina Puksic

★ And the world's got me dizzy again

Copyrights: Tina Puksic

And the world’s got me dizzy again...

You think after so many years I’d be used to the spin
And it only feels worse when I stay in one place
So I’m always pacing around or walking away...

I keep drinking the ink from my pen..
And I’m balancing history books up on my head
But it all boils down to one quotable phrase
If you love something, give it a way...

...So I’m up at dawn
Putting on my shoes
I just want to make a clean escape
I’m leaving but I don’t know where to
I know I’m leaving but I don’t know where to...bright eyes

★ I'm Still Here

★ My all time favorite

Up Up

Eyes are useless...

Don't know who to copyright. Got it from the internet.

Howdy folks. 

I am at work at the moment, so there's no time for ya di da di da... but I am administrating our website - meaning the Festival Maribor website and I came accross many articles about the Festival Maribor... and I need to share an amusing one with you.

It was posted here and written by Laurence Vittes.

Festival Maribor (1):Hell Breaks Loose Ligeti, Bartok and Sculthorpe at Maribor Festival, Slovenia

September 6, 2011

Richard Tognetti (violin), Festival Maribor Orchestra, Marko Letonja (conductor). Maribor (Slovenia), Union Hall, 02.09.2011 (LV)

Peter Sculthorpe: Earth Cry (1986)
György Ligeti : Violin Concerto (1992)
Béla Bartók : Concerto for Orchestra (1943)

Ligeti’s massive and somewhat scary Violin Concerto of 1992, a sophisticated blend of Liszt’s Mephisto Waltz and Saint-Saens’ Danse Macabre, has rightly assumed the title of a 20^th-century masterpiece. Like all of Ligeti’s music, hearing it live brings you far closer to the music’s purpose and soul than any recording could. Over a carefully constructed and dramatically superb structure, Ligeti drapes musical adventures of the most amazing sort, a bewildering pastiche of the hip, the traditional and the definitely intoxicated. The whole is compounded by a battery of unique instrumental effects including one violin and one viola each sitting by themselves playing deliberately mistuned instruments.

The 30-minute, 5-movement concerto begins with a movement that is neither fast nor slow before continuing on to a series of encounters between the orchestra and the soloist. Requisite to a deeply human experience that is also a virtuoso concerto, it poses immense difficulties, both showy and subtle, concluding with a brilliant cadenza that, after a short final respite, brings the music to a close.

In addition to showing off the chops and charisma that have made him a superstar, violinist Richard Tognetti “sold” the concerto with a performance that stressed not only the obviously dazzling theatrical elements but also those meant to communicate.

For their part, the sold-out Festival Maribor audience particularly enjoyed the music’s fierce and unyielding technical challenges, the effects of which were perhaps compounded by bouts of thunder raining outside the hall – as if extra percussion instruments had been written into the score. Led by Marko Letonja, the Festival Orchestra delivered the demanding Concerto after only a few hours’ rehearsals – an astounding testament to what world-class musicians can produce under pressure. (As an aside, in 2012 Letonja arrives in Strasbourg where he will lead the over 100 musicians of its Orchèstre Philharmonique, and embark on an ambitious program including hopefully, a new recording initiative.)

After intermission, Letonja and the ensemble returned to give a reading of Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra that for once had a feel of the composer’s Eastern European roots and studies, coupled with playing from the horns and winds that handled the Concerto’s virtuoso aspects with glee, clarity and triumphant power. The rich, full sound of Union Hall again made clear the virtues of a live concert.

Peter Sculthorpe’s Earth Cry, borrowing harmonic principles from the astronomer Kepler and evoking nature with the help of an indigenous Australian instrument or two, was a comforting starter to the concert before Ligeti’s hell broke loose.

Laurence Vittes

And here's another article that I found amusing....

Rock 'n' Roll (written by Aljaž Zupančič)

Editor’s note: “Rock ‘n roll” was written by Aljaž Zupančič in a prose review style dedicated to Laurence Vittes that surrounds  the Maribor Festival 2011, Boundless Creativity and Song project No. 2, with Giovanni Sollima on cello and Marino Formenti, piano. Author Zupančič was born in 1988 in Ljubljana, Slovenia. After finishing grammar school in Kočevje, he went to study at the University of Ljubljana, where he is now a senior member of the musicology program in the Faculty of Arts. Currently he is also president of the student section of the Slovenian Musicological Society. Besides writting reviews for various publications, he is also active as a composer.

Giovanni Sollima; Photo Dejan Bulut; Festival Maribor 2011

Rock ‘n Roll
It was a rock concert.
A man who plays Vivaldi and Nirvana.
A man who plays Stravinsky and Nirvana.
It was a rock concert.

It was all about Sollima.
Sollima is a rockstar.
One feels a desire to start dancing.
Nirvana sounds better with Kobain’s guitar, but his cello almost became one.
It became obvious: music sounds better, when it looks good.
During the break, a woman in a black dress shouted: »This was the best concert of all!«
 If you weren’t there, you missed a lot.
Giovanni is not only a hard-core guy, he is also sentimental:
Wild plus romantic equals Italian: I wouldn’t be able to say no to him…
… if he was selling shoes.
 He can play without glasses.
He can play and walk at the same time.
He can walk and play at the same time.
He can play one cello with his friend – cello for four hands.
He can play two cellos at once (for a price of a thread of a bow).
Sometimes other musicians were a little bored.
Sometimes they seemed like bass players, who only have tonic and dominant to play.
But most of the time, they were infected by his energy.
It became obvious: someone who doesn’t like rock music is missing a lot.
It became obvious: someone who doesn’t like rock music doesn’t get much sex.
Sometimes, things were too cheesy.
But that comes with the Sollima package.
And how could an Italian be any different? He opens his mouth and fills it with the sounds of his cello.
He reminds me of Glenn Gould.
(in a certain way)
He is a show-off.
He is multipersonal though.
He reminds me of Vinko Globokar too.
(in a certain way, of course)
The cello becomes an extension of his body. Marko Letonja just helped – the ego wasn’t there.
Someone might say that Violoncelles, vibrez is an empty piece, that it lacks musical substance.
Some other piece with the narrator reminded me of music of the French composer Luc Ferrari.
He was also a crazy guy.
After the concert a woman shouted: »This was the best concert of my life!«
I wouldn’t like to hear it again, but this one time it was awesome.
It was a rock concert.
It was also a jazz concert.
A rock-jazz concert.
A jazz-rock concert.
It was all about Formenti.
Formenti is a jazz-rock star.
He tried to show the power of non-classical music.
He rushed onto the stage and immediately started playing – it was a bombastic beginning.
Nothing he did later was comparable.
Sitting next to an Australian woman, drinking cold beer and listening to Kurt Weill’s music was a special experience.

 He reminded me of Glenn Gould.

(He hummed a lot.)
 He demanded applause for the pretty girl who was then turning pages of his scores.
(Every rock star has a pretty girl somewhere around.)
 Marino is not only a hard-core guy, he is also sentimental:
Wild plus romantic equals Italian: I wouldn’t be able to say no to him…
… if he was selling shoes.
 He had lectures between the songs.
That was great.
 If you weren’t there, you missed a lot.
 He was a show-off.
He played a lot of tangos.
He said that tangos are erotic.
Sometimes, things were too cheesy.
But that comes with the Formenti package.
He does not know what rest (a pause) means.
No waiting, no time for metaphysics to come!
 Monday, 5th September 2011 was a great evening.
Tango is erotic music.
Erotic music is hot.
The cellar where the concert was became hot as well and it was hard to breathe.
Formenti suggested voting if we should turn on the air conditioning, which was very loud, so then it wouldn’t be possible to play beautiful music. We would have to wait for a bit.
But some woman shouted: »Just play!«
Women in Slovenia shout a lot.
He played Coldplay.
He played Nancarrow.
He played Nirvana.
Nirvana sounds better with Kobain’s guitar, but his piano almost became one.
His Nirvana had an interesting prelude – he was hitting the piano strings with a glass, I think.
I thought it would be great if he would continue experimenting with that.
But then he started playing chords and melody.
There was no music, there was only theatre.
But it was awesome!
 Before the last song of the evening, the doors of the restaurant upstairs opened and the noise from there was heard downstairs: the festival staff ran to close them to stop the noise. They did it. But only a few moments later the loud air conditioning system started.
All that happened while Marino was already playing the last song of the evening.
There was no music, there was only theatre.
I wouldn’t like to hear it again, but this one time it was awesome.

★ A working day in the life of Tina P. ★

It begins at 6 or 6.30 (or 7, if I only brush my teeth, hide those pimples and run da hell out of my apartment). Usually, it begins with a shower, where I also drink my first cup of coffee, a very very urgent cup of coffee with lots of coffee grains and very little water. I then, all freshly showered, wearing freshly washed clothes ( but all wrinkly, because I do not have an iron ) start my 30 minute walk to work. It's always freezing cold at the beginning. By the time I reach the bridge crossing the river, sweat is running down my spine and by the time I reach the office, I am soaked in sweat and the clothes lose all the wrinkles because the sogginess straightened them out.

The next thing I do at the office is - I make another cup of coffee, (I should really drink one in the shower) again, an URGENT cup of mainly coffee and little water. Then I start working - with numerous pee-breaks.

8 hours are gone in a second and I feel like I spent them in the toilet, and again, I embark on my 30 minute walk home. It seems like DAAAAAAAAYS OF WALKING before I reach my appartment, which is in the 5th floor. I reach the apartment after climbing a GAZILLION STAIRS and the first thing I do is - I try to catch my breath, which usually means I need to run to the window, open it and fill my lungs with air that is not infested with cat shit and piss. (bless the cat's heart for having to use that shitty toilet).

Then, I am confused for about half an hour, not knowing what to do with the time that is left before I go to sleep. It is not enough to finish a project I so carefully planned at the beginning of my walk home and suddenly lost all interest in. It is not enough to run outside before it gets dark and play with my camera, which so patiently waits in the bag, begging to be used again (and often). It is not enough time to have four beers with friends. It is not enough to ..... So, I waste the day cleaning the apartment, lay down in my bed and fall asleep like a dead old man.

The next morning, and every morning, the first thought that appears is wanting to shoot the goddamn alarm clock with a MASSIVE RIFLE for disturbing me at an unimaginable hour that feels like THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. But then, I manage to lift my body and I try to picture a meadow filled with daisies in the sunshine....Sometimes it works, sometimes I want to shoot them daisies too. :)

But, oh, life...and death and taxes. And bills....and life....and spring....and rain....and life....and and and.
A day is too short and there's so much to do. All those plans made while walking....and not enough time and/or energy to give them life and purpose. ... Perhaps I should wait to get in that perfect "working-shape" first and then I will be able to MOVE MOUNTAINS after work. Does that ever happen? I mean, do we get in shape after a while of regular 8 or more- hour work? Well, if it doesn't I might as well shoot that goddamn alarm clock and never get up at all.....

But I think I will go with a "yes" and continue picturing them daisies in the sun. :) Projects will be given life when the time is right...

Until then - chop chop, work, work and smile, smile. ;))))

★ ...Tina's tribute to VINTAGE...★

V starih časih so imeli več časa.
Vsemu so posvečali več pozornosti in energije....in časa.
Žvekali so čigumije z lepšimi ovitki, odvijali lepše embalaže, si opremljali stanovanja z lepšo opremo, vozili desetkrat bolj estetsko oblikovane avtomobile, se lepše oblačili, jedli iz bolj zanimive posode....vse je bilo bolj "skrbno" in umetniško izdelano.

Všeč všeč všeč.


My vintage ride;)
(Someday;))

My vintage chewing gum :)))

Vintage everything ;)))

Can Auschwitz be saved?

Copyright © Smithsonian

This January 27 marked the 65th anniversary of Auschwitz’s liberation by Soviet soldiers.

It is today a museum and a memorial.

The February issue article in the Smithsonian about restoring Auschwitz made me think about its value, or about its purpose today. It is a Unesco World Heritage site, a distinction usually reserved for places of culture and beauty.

I have always felt a curious interest in the WWII era, perhaps because my grandmother and her generation were directly "connected" to it. They were IN it, they experienced the war and all that it brought along as opposed to me and my generation who are "merely" reading about it (not that I would want to experience it myself). I find that mind blowing. Reading about it always creates a certain distance between the reader and the actual experience. It is as if it wasn't real. But, our grandmothers showed us their ragged hands, their wrinkly faces, their hurt souls; they told us their cruel childhood stories and showed us the tiredness in their eyes, the hurt, the pain. That "distance" becomes smaller. Nowadays, monuments, museums, personal stories written down in books and photographs documenting the horrors committed then remind us that it was very real.

To go a step further, it is a fact that the winners write history. What we read, or at least, what we used to read or learn about history is thus altered - it is shown to us from ONE perspective and IT is not objective. In the last few decades, this has started to change. The history is written by both sides. In connection to the WWII, particularly the holocaust, new stories have sprung up, photographs have been found, documents have been dug up. The holocaust story is becoming more and more detailed.

In 2009, I saw many new documentaries about the holocaust. The perspective about it has changed over the years, the history has been rewritten. I mean, as it was considered then, it is still considered the largest mass murder in human history.

It is not possible to write about the holocaust in technical terms, so I shall not. It is emotionally too overwhelming and no (negative) superlative seems strong enough to describe the holocaust.

Anyway, to come back to the question which is also hinted at in the above mentioned article, I think the question could be, not could we save it, but Should we save it? One reason for not saving it, as Robert Jan van Pelt, a cultural historian in the school of architecture at the University of Waterloo in Ontario, Canada puts it is that Auschwitz is a “kind of theme park, cleaned up for tourists...Seal it up. Don’t give people a sense that they can imitate the experience and walk in the steps of the people who were there." But then again, masses of people see it every year and the very presence of the ghosts there affects them.

"After three days at Auschwitz, I was left with the feeling that for some visitors, the former concentration camp is a box to check off on a tourist “to-do” list. But many people appeared genuinely moved. I saw Israeli teenagers crying and hugging each other and groups of people transfixed by the mug shots of prisoners that line the walls of one of the Auschwitz barracks. Walking through the room full of hair still makes my stomach churn. But what I hadn’t remembered from my first visit was the room next door filled with battered cooking pots and pans, brought by people who believed until the last moment that there was a future wherever they were being taken. And when Banas told me about the carefully folded math test that conservationists found hidden in a child’s shoe, I choked up. Even if only a fraction of the people who come here each year are profoundly affected, a fraction of a million is still a lot of people."

I hope Auschwitz (Poland) gets funds from other countries for preservation. I believe, and strongly, that it should be preserved. Absolutely save Auschwitz. But, as a "DENK MAL NACH", as a CONSTANT reminder of what beasts human beings can become/or are, as a nagging finger at the evils of humankind, as a preventive to evil. It should be saved as a sacred memorial.

Play outside :))))

It's almost 11 p.m. I just looked at the clock and discovered that I spent the WHOLE day in front of the computer. The whole day. Not that the weather was inviting to spend it more wisely, but still - I think I have a some kind of a moral hangover.

So, for the final few minutes, I checked out some blogs (among the GAZILLIONS) and (how conveniently) found this in one of them.




It's time to start the day now:)

★ An art EXHIBIT of a ~ wave artist ~ ★

An art exhibit of a ~ wave artist ~ Nina Kresnik in Čajnica, Slovenj Gradec. You can view some of her art work here.

Čajnica na Meškovi v Slovenj Gradcu

~ wave artist ~ Nina Kresnik

Wave concert

Photos in this collage by Nessa Tivadar

A tribute to my grandmother

Grandmother and mother browsing through the album, telling stories
Vlasta Črešnik (19. December 1923 - 21. June 2008)

I'm not there

Don't stand by my grave and weep
for I'm not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamonds glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn's rain

When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circle flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand by my grave and cry
I'm not there, I did not die.

(unknown Native American writer)

The Dreaming

The Dreaming

We dream our lives, and live our sleep's extremes.
The one is to the other not as real.
We fabricate our future in our dreams.

The present moment isn't what it seems.
Experience is only what we feel.
Our lives are dreamt. In sleep we live extremes.

The past is prologue, as the Bard proclaims.
It made us what we are. let's turn the deal
by fabricating future in our dreams.

Our night will wake to day from sound of screams.
but so our day will yearn for night to heal.
We dream our days, and live our night's extremes.

The future enters us in bits and gleams.
In order that its brightness may reveal
how we can learn to make it in our dreams.

The past is history's. The present, schemes
of chance or temporality can steal.
We dreamt out lives, and lived our sleep's extremes.
We'll fabricate our future in our dreams.

Donald Harington

Born for hard luck

Letters are great! Totally out of habit in this rapid world governed by e-mails and blogs which are just a click away from delivery and receiving...what happened to letters traveling through hands, cities, villages, through air for days and weeks...until, richer with experience they patiently arrive into the hands of the beholder...? what happened to patience and sweet waiting...waiting for letters, scribbled down on paper with care...

Not long ago I received a letter that flew its way across the Atlantic. It smiled and grinned on its way and loudly, with a BOOM painted giggles on my face and curiosity in my eyes.

It was a letter from the Deep South...and it contained a dvd with little films on it....and one especially got stuck in my mind. It was about a man called Peg Leg Sam, a man born for hard luck.