Well, want can I say…  Just because Hector and Albane are going to SFMOMA this week,  I’m remembering when I went there. I have some impressions of modern art and are mostly bad, but sometimes a master piece makes me regret some words that I’ve said about it.

I’ve been doing a lot of things lately… Taking care of my dearest and trying to keep my head clear. Life is Amazing! And now I had a thought about Yoko Ono, she knew it! Life is a wonderful chance, so then she made it. She’s one of the cool examples of young people who knows what to do with their money and life at the right time. I would like be like her.

Peace.

In order to study at one of the universities of Arts in Brittany I had an experience of 2 days. The first day I had my drawing, observation and culture tests. The second day I had my French language test (ah yes? If I really need to do it! Damn…) and the afternoon I had several meetings with each university. That was an experience very interesting, I’ve never had that kind of feedback about myself (my personality), my expectations, my influences (japanese “Manga”, yes right…) and my passion.

Well at the end I was “admise” in 3 of 4!    I’m so happy! I would like to go to Brest just the first year. It is front of the beach and there are amazing places to get inspiration, surf, walk and think in front the sea! Take a look.

Well, I just want to share some of the work I did during my tests. I had to draw something based in those two images regarding to a topic that I had to choose.

“The fantasy is the aparition: something that can not happen but it happens, in the exact moment in a perfect universe naively measured so the mystery will not dissapear “.

In front of me it was a shiny “red-coke”, I was thirsty and I needed some sugar, that was the real-objet so I placed it in that classroom that it was “my reallity” at that moment and it became my scenario for the “aparition(s)” about those things that couldn’t happen in that reallity “30 in a classroom drawing” I erased everyone and the teacher, all tables, chairs… etc. Then, I placed myself there, an armchair, the coke and the window. The action? I wasn’t drinking, when in my reality I want it and I was in a total crisis that was something imposible (status ZEN) and the another “RED” object was the connection between my reallity and the reallity-scenario, because the armchair wasn’t a real-object but it became something real and not an image in the reallity-scenario but it became twice an image in my reallity!

I don’t really know, but if I wanted to show you an aparition by my ilustration, I’ve failed. I meant you need the reference of my reallity at that moment to understand. I think that maybe the teachers (my jury) didn’t understood what I wanted to express but they liked the idea at the end.

It doesn’t matter what you want to express and what you do to express it, it’s really hard to make the others get it right away!!!

I remember when I went to SF MOMA and I was so disappointed cause I found that I needed an explanation for each piece of art, sculpture, etc… And I thought -I’m stupid, I don’t understand Modern Art… sorry Warhol-, but there were all the explanations and justifications from their creators!!! Even worst, Modern Art is so relative that all the spectators are stupid and they need and explanation and their creators need to justify themselves. Or this “Modern Art” could be just a caprice, a desire selfish in order to escape from reality or modify it just for a moment, the moment that existed only in the life of the creator. This is not “Art Performance” cause the spectators exist and share the moment of creation with the artist, so I think that Modern Art could lose some of credibility in his capacity of communicating something in the name of experimentation, cause at the end we need to read an explanation in a fucking piece of paper! So that’s why.

A piano soft like a whisper, the violin that answer with melancholy, a deep echo remains all time… Then the rithm changes, they found eachother in a musical explosion when the drums drives your heart beat to an electric crying feeling.

Ólafur Arnalds is an Iceland’s musician, another one that became one of my favourites. I think that Iceland should be my next destination… Who knows. Enjoy!

This is so super!!! hi hi  Tatsuya Ishida always have the right answers. I was thinking about this thing of being in the right moment, the last time in your life, the first love, the man of your life, love, projects, family, friends, being a nerd, geek, maybe a freak or an outsider, black&white, BLUE, traveling, memories, errors, success, money… Gosh! You know, I was so stressed that just focussed my mind into the white-matrix… In front my PC. And this Sinfest mythology thing came out: “I am EVIL&cute and JESUS will love me”.

Note: Some of my friends will disagreed with this post because few years ago I had the Monique’s profile but… Everyone changes.

OK,  I will tell you this story:

I remember that day, the day the nerd spoke to me… “Yes, smells like fruits!”.

He touched my heart and everything begun to change. I’m not an outcast inside, but I love to read devil books.

But sometimes, we can not fight our natural ways and we can’t fight the ways of others… “I don’t have a special reason to speak to you, but… I would like to meet you”.

So I started to ignore the facts and I dreamed… Maybe it’s when I went wrong.

I believe that love can change the world and the order of things. But unfortunately those things were stronger than me.

Those things were out of my understanding, I spent nights, trying to understand… Try to change myself for another and not for myself, just brought me confusion! And it wasn’t his fault.

My friends and family just couldn’t understood. Why a such beauty fell in love of a little cheesy nerd?

Life was good, with all my demons, with all the problems… He was someone amazing and sweet.

I was acting like a little girl… trying to become someone perfect for him.

There was something that he found interesting on me. I’m a very interesting girl too, you know? But he had some issues.

For a little while we shared some lectures… And I dreamed harder.

Obviously I had some projects and I use to question myself about those sweety dreams. World domination!

Then he got hurt by my destructive “love-drama tendences”…  At the end this is a common love story.

And I didn’t want to hurt him either… No matter if  we have the right to tell a story in a different way, human history it’s a sort of loop… It’s always the same shit. This time we weren’t strong enough.

But sometimes some stories are exceptions that became legends, myths or fables…  A man Strong, different and amazingly intelligent, with the power and the divine understanding, with a super protecting and caring love it’s what I need!!!  Someone like JESUS.

Blond with style, self confident...

Different, simple... RELAX babe!

He loves me, no matters if GOD is not agreed.

I was thinking about the things you choose to live and the things you want to live and you couldn’t, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes you’re lucky and you find your way, you get what you want and everything you dream cames true in “the right moment”.  Gosh! I meant, when you get what you want when you need it and when you want it. BOTH!

When I was in México Radiohead came to France… So I could’t see them! You know it’s one of  “THE CONCERTS OF MY LIFE”. When their latest album came out wow! I just dowloaded from the web site! Then I bought it and then I lost it, now my roomate have it here in France! Nostalgy.

I’m kinda disappointed. Don’t know, the latest months I’ve got such lessons about time matters…

Goddess and woman. Once, a metal blonde depressive girl and now a romantic brunette.

I guess that there’s some kind of girl… Like me, that needs to solve some kind of paradigm deep inside. Our God it’s our Demon. Many times our biggest, darkest, strongest enemy lives in ourselves and we must fight him, trying to call him by his real name, so then we will be free. There are many stories, poems, paintings, movies, etc., about this. We are alchemists. Its funny how in this video of one of my favorite Mexican singers, you can watch the brunette killing the blonde, Ely probably knows something about this mythology because in her biography you’ll find a battle between the model and the outcast musician. There are some other Alchemist, Druids, and Prophets… Wise people who help you, they know your real name, love you and stay by your side. There are many others, kind of wise who can call you by your real name, but they use it against you.

I don’t know if you get the idea, but for some of us, because we are complicated, finding our real self it’s a passionate journey maybe dramatic, cause we need to kill… it’s our life, this could be interesting but you must to be strong. Maybe I will learn nothing but I believe in myself, in my brown eyes in my voice, friends and hands.

I apologize for being such a “Space Bounty Hunter”, knowledge most of the time gives you pain, sometimes it gives you truth.

And in the language of symbols << Bleu, M83, Borges, Coteau Twins and a “Re♯m”>> are stories to tell. 

Please, call me Hilda OROZCO.

I met this guy in Christmas time. 01/01/ 2009 we were in the middle of nowhere in the south of France with our friends, he was playing his guitar and singing. He’s the brother of a very good friend that I met here in Rennes. He lived in NY City for a while in order to play, learn and improve his music, now he lives in Canada with his girlfriend. I wish him the best.

Check his music here: MySpace

I used to write science fiction few years ago, why? From where came that wish of became a super outcast of 14 years old? My problem started when I dreamed “the dream”, being someone different and change my life and turn it all in to that dream, sounds obvious uh? In the meantime of a big break out in my life when I was 18 years old, I met my friends “the Labyrinths” members of a selected group called “The labyrinth” hi hi ^^  (Laura Michel, Tonatiuh Moreno, Grabriel Benitez… Lovers of Literature, Tolkien, Arthur C. Clark, Miyasaki, Dungeons & Dragons,etc.), that group born in the middle of a Master in Communications thesis project of two members, students of the University ITESO and they shared the project with the community in my home town Guadalajara as part of they research. Later a book came out “Laberinto”. Well, the research and a secular group inside, published two specialized magazines without any special success (only their friends and the mini-community of outcasts from three states Zacatecas, Jalisco and Nayarit used to bought those issues, I still have 2 or 3 hidden somewhere) and lots of friends to play ROL games! But the writers stayed together just at the end, to have religious meetings every weekend to play ROL games, write, read with a cat in your feet and interchange opinions of personal literature projects.
So then, I met the group, the energy and the power of destiny (my will) guided my old friends to me. I was working in a Library that was just two blocks from the dungeon (Laura’s parents house), was a beautiful Sunday, they were searching a book… And Laura saw one of my drawings and speaked to me. Voilà.

But what about this story? I beleive of what Vargas Llosa said about fiction and the origins of the humanity, man had to dream first his reallity and he’s not the first one of saying it. I dreamed once of become a “story teller”, draw, write, live and inspire others to dream with passion their lives, cause it works! I felt that I had many things to say and share but when I met “the laberynths”  they show me the path (with the help of Orson Scott Card) and also they amazed me many times with their stories, many times I looked at them like my big bros and sis and I wanted to be like them. They used to dream with passion and touched my heart. Those are real story tellers, those that drives others into the dreamworld. 
Later I met many other “story tellers” (I meant, friends, lovers, writers, artist of all different kinds…) that gives me such punch that right now it’s impossible to get out. I must to finish this journey.

THANKS everybody to be there… I meant right here, kiss. 

Roses! This is such a cliche. I remember the few times that I received this kind of gift and nobody gave me another kind of flower, a tulip or a margarita could be fine but in my whole life I’ve been received roses! I’ve never thought about it but a week ago Vincent gave me 3 beautiful roses, without any special reason and I liked it. But red roses for me are related with death… My beloved cat died and I’ve got a red rose and I cried… Now I’ve got 3, my mind it’s not here.

” Les Feuilles Mortes “

Oh ! je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes
Des jours heureux où nous étions amis.
En ce temps-là la vie était plus belle,
Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui.
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle.
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié…
Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle,
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Et le vent du nord les emporte
Dans la nuit froide de l’oubli.
Tu vois, je n’ai pas oublié
La chanson que tu me chantais.

C’est une chanson qui nous ressemble.
Toi, tu m’aimais et je t’aimais
Et nous vivions tous deux ensemble,
Toi qui m’aimais, moi qui t’aimais.
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment,
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis.

Les feuilles mortes se ramassent à la pelle,
Les souvenirs et les regrets aussi
Mais mon amour silencieux et fidèle
Sourit toujours et remercie la vie.
Je t’aimais tant, tu étais si jolie.
Comment veux-tu que je t’oublie ?
En ce temps-là, la vie était plus belle
Et le soleil plus brûlant qu’aujourd’hui.
Tu étais ma plus douce amie
Mais je n’ai que faire des regrets
Et la chanson que tu chantais,
Toujours, toujours je l’entendrai !

© Jacques Prévert – 1945

When I was 5 or 6 years old, I asked my mom why she used to write and draw stuff in a little notebook that I liked to pick up all time and also draw in their pages and destroy her art. I used to pass my time asking myself  “what my mom wants to communicate with this?” And at the same time I use to watch with all my attention her drawings like if they were puzzles, enigmas or treasures. She told me that was her stuff! For her, and she had not intention of show “her stuff” to somebody… Obviously I didn’t understood. For her that notebook was so special that she had to keep it hide to somebody who could understand. But there’s something else, the need of write and draw… There’s not a special reason, not a single one, I think. But we like to do it all the time, It’s our way of being ourselves. I don’t know if I took that from her, like I took from my dad the love for the acoustic guitar,  just that he knows how to play it.

I would like to share with you some of my drawings, just for the pleasure of doing it. Share those momments that I will keep in my memory in the form of a piece of paper. (Maybe it’s another way of get out of reallity…).

I still ask myself, what my mom did with those little notebooks. Where are they?   

I love to draw people in ”my own personal style”  and watch them through my interpretation. Draw myself in different situations and try to caught the feeling and lock it in the paper like if draw it were a magic spell.

I watch later trough the years that pass what I draw and write, that gives me an idea of how I’ve changed. What I used to think, what is important to me and so many times reminds me who I am.

I can keep in a special way the names and faces of the special people I meet.

And also,  show my deepest feelings, my dreams and let know the person I love that he’s in my thoughts.