luigi moretti

Building by Luigi Moretti in Trastevere, Rome.

GIL, the former Casa del GIL (Casa della Gioventu´Italiana del Littorio) translated to House of the Italian Facist Youth.

So is this a fascist architecture or is this building an empty vessel to fill with something new without hiding or forgetting our history? Can beauty be stolen and forever kept by the bad guys? Will we allow it to be stolen or can we reclaim it and use the travesty: "Why does the devil have to have all the good architecture?"  Or are we hurting those who suffered and feeding the evil forces. 

Of course architecture can scare you and imprison you, make you small and even make you disappear or trick you to believe in and enchant you with the lies and false prophesies of the dictatorship or scare you by the nightmares in the walls?

Or is it all in the context, possible for us to conquer and claim?

worth a visit

the Marble Smile

Meet this enchanting marble smile in GNAM, The Galleria Nazionale dárte moderna e contemporanea in Rome.
A place worth visit and to remember, 
stroll through the green park of Villa Borghese and find this place of hidden treasures. 
A place showing dark secrets as well.
And why can the marble look so soft and so alive?  

orange my dear! orange , kära du!

Orange! Vad signalerar den färgen? Nyttig betakaroten kanske. Orange är särskilt vacker bredvid den gröna färgen på Isaac Grunewalds målningar. Det är faktiskt den orange färgen som får den gröna att skimra och lysa. När Isaac var på det humöret så lade han den gröna ovanpå den orange eller tvärtom. Och nej, jag kan inte hitta det tysk y-et på tangentbordet, så därför är hans efternamn felstavat. Morötterna från mammas trädgårdsland ligger på mammas orange bricka. De är små och knapriga och låter på ett särskilt sätt när man klyver dem med tänderna. Brickan är från det färgdjärva 70-talet.
Är det dags att ta fram den orange igen och låta den knocka vår pastellfärgade omgivning?


Orange! What does this color signal? Useful carotene maybe. Orange is particularly beautiful next to the green color of Isaac Grunevalds paintings. It is actually the orange color that gets the green to shimmer and shine and when Isaac was in that mood  he painted the green on top of the orange, or vice versa.

The carrotss of my mother's vegetable garden on her orange tray. They are small and crunchy and they sound in a particular way, when I split them between my teeth. The tray is from the color bold 70s.

Is it time to bring out the orange again and let it knock our subtle pastel surroundings?

Isaacs självporträtt/ self portrait by Isaac Grunewald

Me and Laura is looking for inspiration

Looking for inspiration among the old masters.
So I found this book by Rackham bought in London many years ago.
Can he help me to picture the bat in my story?
Yes, no and maybe.

Farwell /A Poem a Day/ 30th of April 2013

Alas

Farwell

I leave although I stay

I stay although I go away

Alas

Goodbye

Farwell

Lisbeth Nordin poem

Time / A poem a day/ 29th of April 2013

Time

I run with bare feet over the rag rug

The rag rug runs over the old worn wooden floor

where you ran before me on your naked feet

but the carpet is still growing out from the loom of wood.

Constantly the shuttle is running to and fro between the warp threads.

I hear the beat of the boom and the pedals gear.

But I do not see you.

You that weaves.

Tiden

Jag springer med bara fötter

 över trasmattan som löper på det gamla slitna trägolvet

där sprang du före mig på nakna fötter

men  mattan växer ännu ut ur vävstolen av trä.

Ständigt ränner skytteln mellan varpens trådar.

Jag hör hur bommen slår och hur tramporna växlar skälet.

Men jag ser dig inte.

Du som väver.

tími

Ég hlaupa með berum fótum yfir

rag gólfmotta sem keyrir á gamla slitinn tré hæð

þar sem þú hleypur á undan mér á berum fótum

en teppi vex enn út loom úr tré.

Allan tímann í gangi um rútuferðir milli undið þræði.

Ég heyri uppsveiflu högg og hvernig pedali gír ástæðan.

En ég sé þig ekki.

Þú vefnaður.

Lisbeth Nordin /poem

RIddle me /A Poem a Day/ the 28th of April 2013

collage: Lisbeth Nordin

Riddle me

Riddle me

Knight of the unknown heights

Ride through my forest in fading twilight

Forgotten, forgiven, but never forbidden

Riddle me, riddle me

Riding knight

through the blackening forest 

in the sleeping night

forget me, forgive me but never forbid me

to riddle me, ride me through the forest in fading twilight.

segja mér gátu

segja mér gátu

Knight frá óþekktum hæðum

Útreiðar í gegnum skóg í fading sólsetur

Gleymt, fyrirgefið, en aldrei bannað

segðu mér, segðu mér gátu þína

Riding riddari

gegnum svartan skóginum svefn nóttina

gissa min

gissa min gåta

ridande ryttare riddare

av gåtfulla gränslösa vidder

ridande ryttare räddare

i gråvättars skymningsgrå skog

glömd, försvunnen, förrunnen

säg mig din, säg mig din gåta

ryttare riddare ridande

i skymningsmörk sovande skog

Lisbeth Nordin poem