Green Level On Cubefield

darkness and creativity


Artistically speaking, in life there are moments when I feel lost in a limbo that looks like a creative hibernation and effort to focus on what I have in my head.
Probably because this seems to me empty, or confused.
Equally likely, in part, is not so as to short flashes of visions I almost elusive. They are similar to the tremors and I refer to the creative state that is my essence returning to the sheets and colors for a few moments.

E 'a been so elusive as to annoy and upset me more than my Buddhist.

In those moments is a constant coming and going between the study (the room itself or the notebook in my purse) and any other job I have, including the work itself.
Maybe even months after I find a puzzle microidee and notes that's just my nature to subconsciously Virgin Settembrina helps me not to be missed.
talking Artistically, there are moments During my life I feel myself lost in a sort of "creative hibernation" and it's so hard to make the focus on WHAT I have in my head. Probably Because It looks empty or confused me. Equally probable
this is not true Because I have quick, short and uncatchable visions. They are very short
like Tremors That I recall was the creative is my essence and That bring me back to sheets and colors for little moments. This is a

Confusing I know and elusive status That Makes my crazy deep Buddhist side.

In Those moments I like and go Between my study (the real room or the notebook in my handbag) and I Have Any Other occupation, real jobs included.
Maybe after months, I see on my desk of a puzzle and notes microideas That only my Virgo nature, unconsciously, helps to keep me safe.


Butto, gate and repaint the entire table. Unmount the portfolios. Select and collect everything like that to my mind. Crop, in fact, look. I cry, I get angry, I despair. I leave it all in a corner and come back to play, dance, watch a cartoon, to be filled with colored jerseys and stockings.
What happens?
I'm turning my musical background unconsciously looking for something that I could not really define. Perhaps another myself.
I throw, I erase and I paint again Entire illustration.
I select and I collect all the images my mind That Likes. I cut, I write, I watch.
I cry, I get angry and sad. I leave everything in the corner and I return to play, to dance, to watch a cartoon, to fill me up of dresses and colorful socks.
What happens?
unconsciously I am turning over my creative searching luggage Able to define what I'm not. Perhaps an other
Me
Those jerks creative lead me to a draft board,
Those creative Tremors carry a rough,

with a hint of color,
a bit of color,




and finally to realize that, in my creative vacuum, I'm planning again.
A new book project that was old but that I loved so much, so much to talk about my creativity when I myself had no words.
It 's a tough road, hard and heavy for the soul and feeling, but what amazes me is how the unconscious with which creeps in me when I feel lost.
Only a few know how to listen and understand the evil of that time. My mother does it very well, with love and energy.

and at last they make me feel that, in my empty creative, I am planning again.
A new book project that was old but that I loved a lot, so much to speak to my creativity when I didn't have words. It's a hard, laborious and heavy road for my spirit and sensibility but the unconscious modality with which it comes in me when I feel lost is astonishing.
Just some people understand that bad moment. My mother does it in a great way, with love and energy.

Oggi ho raccolto tutto il lavoro fatto inconsapevolmente ed è interessante.
Today I have collected all the unconsciously job and it's interesting.


The intention is to continue to have as a point of arrival, a well-defined project for the fair in Bologna in 2011.
In fact perhaps is to have in hand the tangible result of the opportunity to create something good even in times of darkness creative.
My wish is to go on, to Have a sort of defined end point for the Bologna Bookfair 2011. Perhaps, in reality, my wish is in the hands HAVING the tangible result of the Possibility to create something good in bad Also creative moments.



Island Cobalt, this is the project, is the brainchild of a friend, teacher and colleague with the words that failed to retract my soul in its great simplicity. Thanks Gianluca
:) See you

the next year!
The next post in the New Year!

Dragon Ball Z Comforter And Sheets

..... I WOULD LIKE A BLOG

hello to all!

yes yes I know I do not live a long time, unfortunately for me I did not realize new works, so nothing to photograph, no news' ..

I get an attack of envy every time (almost daily) I open my blog and I see the news' to all the friends that I follow ..

accidents but where you find the time??

and then .. and then well have heard a little 'depressed .. I also would like a nice blog ..

you all the wonders you have built in theme, with pictures and wallpapers bellissssssimi put in a certain way, and glitter, to the slide, in short all those things that personalize the blog ..

I can not.

are days that I try to understand how the template, and then all those other gadgets and functions that should be used to create your own blog!

I can not do that ... and 's so cold my blog, so' insignificant ..

any of you have desire and time to help me?

maybe via mail or a phone call .. I do not know where to turn if not to you ..

Maybe it starts with a little something .. then the rest, perhaps, comes from if '..

what do you think? help me??

How Do You Take The Sweetness Out Of Chilli ?

skin. Reflections of Robinson in front of a hundred and twenty cod

Of all dishes dreamed, the more chimerical was "El Niu, tasted in a village in the Catalan coast, where he had achieved the koine: cod, earth and sky . Fry some onion, lots of chopped onion julienned, fried up to humiliate her and force her the first to lose its mineral texture, fried up to turn it into a creature weak and transparent, without giving then the miracle of change, but continue to sauté slowly until caramelized and then add the cleaned squid, cut into pieces, thrushes plucked, roasted, half open, and once tamed the squid and changed the color of the thrush, here is the balm of chopped tomato, paprika, wine white and then the big meeting with the cod, because it is Now is the time to add to the delicacy floured pieces of cod and salt cod, and the other one went through the resurrection dell'ammollo and the shroud of white flour. But we must not settle for the meat of the beast, but add a small portion of her womb well chopped, to raise the acidity of the final bouquet in the moment. What else? Potatoes into cubes, warm water, boiled eggs cut in half, peas or beans, and when the concoction is cooked, for a moment before it comes out from the bosom of Abraham tablespoons of aioli sauce, until everything reaches the pre-revolutionary levels of anger and perfumes stomach that will last twenty-four hours between daydreams of the first digestion of all what began to live on earth before they were invented sin and fishing.

• Manuel Vazquez Montalban
• Reflections of Robinson in front of a hundred and twenty cod
• Frassinelli
• pages: 66 to 67

Does Hiv Rash Appear Alone

Antonio Tabucchi. Travel and other travel

It's pretty rare that a single town in the statues of two poets are just a few meters apart. What's happening in Lisbon, and can be interpreted as a good sign. The elegant square Chiado, where is the Brazilian, is dedicated to the sixteenth-century poet António Ribeiro Chiado, whose small statue, also of bronze, shows him with a mocking grin on his face, as was the ridicule of his poetry. Portugal has a long tradition of irreverent, satirical poetry, from the medieval troubadours, and is a poetic genre that enjoys high esteem, as in any civilized country, because we know that without any satire monarch (or similar) would be a monarch ever, a tyrant.
A few meters from the face wry face is unreadable by Fernando Pessoa with a wry smile on his lips. The sculptor has carved the Lagoa Henriques as if it were really the cafe, sitting on a chair with his leg and placed seven on the other (a position that clashes with the casual character). The irony is often evident in his poems, but perhaps it is ironic that his thought, with that of the "ironic consciousness," to use the words of a French philosopher, which made him think that we are One Hundred Thousand and None and that allowed him to create his human comedy in poetry.

• Antonio Tabucchi
• Travel and other travel
• The Storytellers Feltrinelli
• pages: 171, 172

Reported by: Antonio
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