I love the idea of a menu on textile. The fact that it's handwritten only adds to its charm.
Casual poet culture is a small creative company based in Singapore. Their coffeehouse may be gone now, they still have a radio-show, publish a magazine and do lots of other interesting things. I discovered their blog yesterday and was struck by its often poetic content.
On my wish-list: The Glass House, a book on a beautiful building (La Maison de Verre) by modernist architect Pierre Chareau. Equally stunning are the photographs by François Halard. Chareau, who was one of Le Corbusier's contemporaries, also designed painter Robert Motherwell's studio.
Yesterday, we finally got round to watching Von Trier's Melancholia. I was sceptical because I'd heard so many negative things about it. Still, I absolutely loved it. It totally grabbed and touched me. To me, this is not a film about depression or a death-wish (which it is often described as) but a really honest one about how people deal with the existential truth of life. Some choose to go through life with their masks of jollity pasted on, or opt for total denial. Others descend into feelings of bitterness or escape into hazes of alcohol and money. A beautiful portrayal of what it means to be human and alive and a warm embrace for those of us who feel intensely.
Meet my new chair. At the moment, it is still living in The Netherlands, but with some help from Mr. Postman, it will be here some time next week. I've already reserved a prime spot - next to our bed, close to the window so I can look outside while knitting or writing and maybe spot a bird or two.
Love these images. The textures, the volumes, the colours. My favourite is the first one. I wish I could touch those garments. They look as if they'd feel incredibly soft - like a favourite piece of clothing, worn so many times it has become paperthin The slouchiness of the outfit also appeals to my inner tomboy.
btw, now that I'm talking about fashion: isn't it crazy that the prefall collections 2012 are ready? We haven't even fully reached winter yet here in Belgium! Even though I love seeing those new collections for aesthetic reasons, it makes me a little sick how fast and ephemeral fashion is becoming.
Life just got even better: after the move I really missed my favourite coffee house. I longed for a place where I could sit, read, write and drink some great coffee. Then, I discovered a new place was opening just a short walk away from our apartment. The day before yesterday, Liesje opened Kornél, a new coffee bar + a studio where artists and writers can come to do some work. Even better, she serves Caffénation coffee (the best coffee Antwerp has to offer). So, today I decided to have a look and I felt right at home. If you find yourself in the neighbourhood, come and check it out! You can find Kornél at 1 Sint Lambertusstraat , 2600 Berchem. I'm already looking forward to many hours of writing and drinking coffee there.
Thanks Liesje for this great initiative. It's just what this neighbourhood needed!
Okay, I admit I think he looks a tiny bit creepy, but I love the concept behind Material Teddy. He was created by artist/designer Makiko Shinoda and each of his body-parts is made of a different material. This way, he stimulates children's (and adults') sense of touch. Wonderful!
The Five Senses - as you can read in the short description I gave of myself in the right-hand column - have always fascinated me. One of the first questions I ask when meeting new people is the following 'pentalemma': if you knew you were going to lose your senses one by one and were only allowed to keep one, which order would you choose to lose them in and which of the five senses would you keep? I find it tells you a lot about people.
Even though it's a hard decision, touch would be my sense of choice. (It'd be horrible to have to leave sight behind too, but hey, life is hard :-)).
I think I've reached the end of my blogging break. After our move at the beginning of December I was hit by an enormous wave of tiredness which is slowly disappearing. The move itself went very smoothly, but adapting to the new place, new rhythms, smells and sounds has thrown my body off balance. I've been looking for the light (literally) during those dark, rainy days. I kept longing for my dream home: somewhere quiet, surrounded by nature and birdsong. I was vibrating with nervous energy because of noisy neighbours, traffic outside, unpacked boxes filled with my cherished books. I cursed our decision to buy this place, got angry at my own sensitivity. I couldn't find a quiet place to curl up and feel at home. The kitchen needed painting. Christmas and New Year's needed to be celebrated. It all felt like such an effort. And then something shifted. After some talks with the downstairs neighbours (one of which is deaf, hence the noise) I'm beginning to relax a little. And yesterday, for the first time when I turned the key in my front door, something inside me stirred. "I"m home," it whispered.