This was a present for my mum's birthday. Ink pen, feltips and collage on old, crumbled and bumpy paper, the best I ever found...Nothing was planned. A mere recollection of what came out that day. My uncle says that the queer looking girl on the tree, is me. represented as a girl and as a woman. Unfortunately, I am not that profound. I just think she's cute with that awkward style...
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No, she didn't want to become a geisha.
She had not chosen the job herself, and the thought of following somebody else's idea of what her life should be made her sad and very irritated.She wanted to go back to her life filled with trees, and butterflies, and smiles, and silly conversations with friends, and simple dresses designed by her friends and herself over a cup of tea. She wanted her strange blue dog, she wanted her yellow paper umbrella, she wanted her invented portable bird-cage candle lights!
But Shisiko was not to have her way. Her parents had lost all their bellongings and the little riches they had on a bet with a local landlord.
"Oh that stupid man, how can he call himself my father?! Why did he bet on me, oh why did he bet on me?!".
Tears ran through her wide european shaped blue eyes while the three maids were putting on her kimono.
Today was the great day, the D-day for any geisha. She was to be dressed in antique silks and modern boots and with a small para-soleil on her coiffed hair she would dance for all the nobles, in a stage decorated with natural pink rose petals and as many perfect cameleon-like blooms founf in the village trees. She was to sing to the world the pleasures of love, and dance to tunes heard already centuries ago.
The noble lord had called upon every royal and noble he had set his hands upon, and the usual introduction to geisha life had become the largest show ever remembered in this part of Japan. Signs, pictures and drawings of the geisha-to-be had been hung in purple silk and silver in all trees around the country; and stories of her beautiful voice, her slender figure, her water-like eyes and her humble history had been sung and told thoughout.
As the show began and night came, young girls were seen everywere with strange blue dogs, yellow paper umbrella's and portable bird-cage canddle lights... This, my friend, is said to be the begining of fashion.
I really like the triptic Sweets... the texture, the paper, the tree in the bottom part... really imaginative, and probably deeper than you think :-)
Besos,
Bego
I must apologise in advance about writing in my mother tonge, que esto de escribir es como el respirar para mí. Como la risa, los sustos, la pasión, la irritación. Mis emociones hablan siempre español.
Me ha encantado el cuento, Bego. No sólo los ojos de tu protagonista, sino todo el relato fluye puro líquido.
Y sobre tu trazo, Mimeri, sólo puedo darte la enhorabuena. Todos los dibujos son la entrada a un mundo distinto. Eso que críticos y cursis llaman el universo del artista. Eso que todos supiern crear, y del que muchos genios acaban siendo víctimas o marionetas, se respira en tu pintura. La singularidad de un mundo nuevo y distinto, donde el tiempo discurre para atrás y los sonidos se escuchan en sordina. Pájaros e insectos en la lejaníay mariposas que susurran en un aleteo suave. De verdad, estoy orgullosa de ti.
Un beso a las dos. Y tú, bego, a tus blommbergs y movidas, que me vas a quitar el puesto de literatta!!
Os quiero
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