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Llandudno Diaries – 5

Those of you who followed my Flickr have undoubtedly noticed just what a surge in my passion for photography came from this trip to Wales. What I wanted to share in this chapter is one particular experience which fits the notion of “l’instant decisif”, or “decisive moment“, introduced to the world of photography by Henri Cartier-Bresson. To avoid being considered a show-off, I should note that Cartier-Bresson advised to only take a shot, literally, at that very decisive moment, whereas I took a picture of this shelter on Llandudno Promenade a few times before I got it right.

It all started when I was walking from the Grand Hotel towards Craig-y-Don. These shelters stand along the entire Promenade, and the first time I took a notice of it, the shelter was used in its proper way, as you can see on the left. I remember that I was actually attracted by a man who sat in the middle section of the shelter, for his manner of dialling or writing an SMS on his mobile was somewhat peculiar. But while taking the picture, I spotted the view from the shelter’s “windows”, which I tried to capture on the next two pictures (right and below).

Between and after these shots I was walking on the Promenade, I was taking pictures of pebbles, and eventually I even descended from the Promenade and was walking on the pavement. It was then that this lady and her dog appeared. The little white dog was wearing a tartan coat and evidently found something in me, as it kept stopping and starring at me, so I even had to pause and let the pair walk ahead. This little dog, I believe, was my White Rabbit, since eventually it stopped by the yet another shelter and spent enough time for me to catch up with them. I tenderly watched the dog for a few moments, and then I looked at the shelter. Next second I was reaching out for the camera, while praying for the pair to walk away as quickly as possible because the rain was starting. Off they walked, and I took the picture (below).

The reason I call it my “decisive moment” is because it was totally spontaneous in that I didn’t plan it. In the words of Cartier-Bresson, the act of taking a photograph is “the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as of a precise organization of forms which gave that event its proper expression“. So far we’ve known that this is a simple shelter on Llandudno Promenade, but here, totally on its own, it seems to stand completely in the water or even to rise from the water. It is just an object, free from the presence of other objects. Naturally, one can imagine it floating between the two elements – water and air – but the precise lines of the shelter indicate that it is not about to be overturned. When I wrote about this picture in my Russian blog, I noted that the main carcass of the shelter (as well as the bench) is in the form of the letter “pi” (left) that can be interpreted as a symbol of strong will and victory, and this explains why the shelter has got this air of stability about it. At the same time, one can perhaps see two letters “T” join in the carcass (and in the bench), and this letter symbolises the union of two antagonistic forces. Indeed, the latter point is very true about this shelter: it is but a shelter, made of concrete, which can be properly used; however, seen from a different point of view, in the different atmosphere, this ordinary object becomes the subject of a photographic shot, thus being placed in the centre of a purely creative process.

The geometry of this shelter is rather interesting, in that the main lines remain unchanged even when one overturns the image. The most obvious interpretation of this picture would have to do with the place of a man in the world, face to face with the elements. As such, this shelter can be my alter ago, or it can be yours. But perhaps the really curious thing happens if we turn the picture on its head. Cartier-Bresson would perhaps advise against this, and of course, an overturned shelter begs for a different story. I did overturn the picture, however, if only to see what story it could then tell (right). Unexpectedly, the shelter now resembles a carcass of a house. The clouds from the original picture look like a stripe of grass at dusk. The sky resembles the snowy plain, or the white sand in twilight. And the sea is divided into the sea proper and the steel-coloured sky where the ghostly beams of the first floor disappear. Suddenly, the decisive moment appears to be not so much in capturing an object, but in capturing the creative potential of it.

Llandudno Diaries – 4

The Great Orme is the dramatic backdrop to Llandudno, as well as the starting point of the history of the place. Hardly anything can be more impressive than to walk in Mostyn St, the central thoroughfare of the town, and to have your eyes constantly find the awe-inspiring masses of stone. At night, when the part of the Great Orme just above the Grand Hotel is lit up, you catch yourself on a thought that you’re watching the Moon’s surface. The whole of Llandudno is impressive in such way: be that the Great Orme, the Little Orme (left) or mountains that rise in the distance (right), this is the place that seems to be forever sheltered and dominated by those giants.

The Great Orme is also known as the place where you can meet the real Kashmiri goats. On my first walk around the town I stopped at Waterstones, where I flicked through the pages of a book with unknown facts about Wales. The chapter on Llandudno informed me that on the slopes of the Great Orme one is likely to see the Kashmiri goats who may be the direct descendants of the pair presented to the Queen Victoria by the Persian Shah. As I later read, the so-called Windsor herd had come into being long before the Queen’s reign. It was in fact at the beginning of the 19th c. that Squire Christopher Tower from Essex purchased two Kashmiri goats from the number that had just been imported from India to France. His idea for a business turned out to be rather profitable, as he was eventually able to manufacture a cashmere shawl which was presented to George IV. The monarch, evidently impressed, accepted two goats from Squire Tower, and thus the Windsor herd was started. It is possible that the goats presented by the Shah were added to the existing herd, and later in the 19th c. two goats were brought to Wales.

However, the book I was flicking through made it appear as if one actually needed to go to the top of the Great Orme to see the goats. I did venture up the road until the first turn, but then I realised I wouldn’t be able to walk all the way up the mountain (granted I didn’t have suitable footwear). I decided to go back to the town, but little did I know that it would be on my way down the hill that I would virtually stumble upon the Kashmiri goats. The ones you see above were the very first on my way, and although I’ve seen and photographed a plenty of sheep, horses and cows, never before did I get the opportunity to take a picture of the goats. Admittedly, the models of the image above look regal enough to believe that they may indeed have the blue blood running in them. But before I turned my back on the Great Orme I was able to catch a glimpse of a larger herd (left). Both times I was quite startled, so much so that the second time I even paraphrased a stanza from a Russian poem about a lone pine tree that stands on the top of a certain Northern mountain, covered in snow. In my paraphrase, the goat stood on the top of the Great Orme, eating grass and covered in coat, as if it was a fir coat (I believe the unusually sharp December wind made me think of the really warm clothes).

Read more about the Great Orme Kashmiri Goats
.

To be continued…

Llandudno Diaries – 3

I arrived to Llandudno at about 5pm on Friday, 28th of December 2007. The wind and rain met me at the station, as well as two lines of taxis, with no drivers inside. Turned out, my train arrived earlier, and the drivers were all away to shops. I joined an elderly gentleman and a family couple at the taxi office. By the time I was on my own, we started talking with the lady in the reception. Turned out, she was quite familiar with Manchester: she was a part of the Jewish community who regularly travel from Llandudno to Salford. Then my taxi arrived, and a few minutes later I was in Craig-y-Don where I were to stay until January 6th 2008.

Craig-y-Don means “rock by the water”, and Dave Thompson tells us in his illustrated book about Llandudno that this area became popular with residents after the First World War. On the first walk “into town” when I don’t actually know yet where to go, the place seems to be quite far away from the town centre. But as you get to discover all the different ways to get from Craig-y-Don Parade to Trinity Church in Mostyn St, you’ll soon realise that it doesn’t actually take that long.

Llandudno itself boasts a remarkable history. The origins of the place date back as early as the Bronze Age, and the remains of the Bronze Age Copper Mines located on the Great Orme is a great tourist attraction, allowing you to explore 250ft below the surface. There, on the Great Orme, is also the church of St Tudno. The church takes its name from the site of a small monastic community founded by the Welsh Christian missionary in the 6th c. AD. I haven’t visited it, but Thompson notes that the church “still has some ancient features within it including a splendid twelfth-century font”.

The fate of Llandudno was apparently determined by the Liverpool Architect Owen Williams in 1840s. The image on the left is that of The King’s Head where Williams reportedly remarked that this bay area would make an ideal watering place. His words were related to The Hon. Edward Mostyn MP who had already had plans to exploit the area of Llandudno as a potential summer resort. Some time before Williams’s prophetic remark Lord Mostyn, with the support of the Bishop of Bangor, was able to obtain through the Parliament “the sole rights to develop the low isthmus between the north and west shores”. Williams was commissioned with the survey which, when completed, presented Llandudno as a lovely seaside town, “shaped with a grid of spacious thoroughfares and a sweeping promenade”.

Although it wasn’t Williams who undertook the final planning and building, the progress of Llandudno was compelling, given its unrivalled popularity with the masses, the royalty, and the men-of-arts. It is still disputed whether or not Lewis Carroll visited Llandudno, but even without him there are enough names among Llandudno’s patrons to make any other town of its caliber blush with envy: Napoleon III, Disraeli, Gladstone, Bismarck, to name but a few. The Queen Elizabeth of Roumania, who wrote under the pen name of Carmen Sylva (commemorated in the name of one of the streets in Craig-y-Don), stayed here for five weeks in 1890. Buffalo Bill came here with his Wild West Show in 1904. The Beatles performed at The Odeon in Llandudno in 1963, and the last person to ever appear on the Odeon’s stage was Billy Connolly in 1986.

For references, I am indebted to Dave Thompson’s Llandudno (Images of Wales series, Tempus, 2005).

To be continued…

Llandudno Diaries – 2

This stay in Llandudno was a good break from the city’s hustle and bustle, and some of you may already have checked my Flickr albums. Richard over at the BBC Manchester Blog was wondering what I would be doing in Llandudno for quite a long period of time. Indeed, I arrived on December 28th and was planning to leave on January 6th, which I did, only instead of taking a train to Manchester I went to Deganwy and stayed for another two nights at Deganwy Castle Hotel. I did a plenty of sightseeing in Llandudno but, being a peregrinating type, I did day trips to Conwy, Caernarfon, and Beaumaris. In case if Richard and all of you are wondering further, I don’t have a car, so my pilgrimages were assisted to a degree by buses, which means, I suppose, that on occasion my eye has caught something I would’ve overlooked, if sitting in the car. On the other hand, not having a car restricts your freedom, so hopefully next time I go to Wales either I’ll be driving myself or I’ll have a car and a driver.

Flickr sets:
I finally made it to Manchester on January 8th, but if I am totally honest with myself and with you, I didn’t want to leave. I had to return to Manchester, not least because I accepted the invitation to a friend’s housewarming party. Richard is absolutely right that there isn’t much to do in Llandudno, but it’s what outside Llandudno that makes the whole journey purposeful. And I don’t even have to mention castles – I can only mention Llandudno Bay and the Great Orme, which look different every time you see them. The houses on the slopes of the Great Orme, when lit up in the evening, reminded me of one image Henry Miller evoked in The Colossus of Maroussi: a Greek valley where stood houses in which windows the lights were coming up was like a bowl with cherries. And it was this bowl that I was thinking of every evening when I looked at the Great Orme from my hotel lounge where I sat uploading photographs to Flickr.

I still haven’t explained why I chose Llandudno. Back in October, I visualised some of the scenes and was convinced that the story would take place somewhere at the seaside. The choice had more to do with how much I actually knew the British seaside towns and cities. The fact is that I know them very poorly. If I am to be very honest, I think my knowledge is currently divided between two “pools”: Blackpool and Liverpool. From either “pool” I couldn’t think of a spot to pull out where I’d want my characters to find themselves. Suddenly I remembered about my short walk along Llandudno Promenade, and then I vividly imagined the wintery bay and the winds. I looked up some photos on Flickr and was convinced that this was the place to set up the story.

But then I began to research further, and I realised that there may have been another reason for why I chose Llandudno for my story, although it only came up during research. It’s been years since I watched a Russian cartoon after Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and read both books. It was in Llandudno that the Liddell family used to stay, and there are still speculations about whether or not Carroll himself visited the Liddells in Llandudno. There are also speculations on the nature of his relationship with Alice Liddell who was the inspiration for both stories. My view on this occasion is that it probably doesn’t matter much whether or not Carroll went to Llandudno. If he did, his imagination would be assisted by personal experience. If he didn’t, his genius, as it dazzles us in two books about Alice, shines even brighter.

What cannot be denied is that both books are, as one often calls it, the labour of love. And it is significant for me that both these books are fairy tales. They could be love poems, of course, and then we might have had something of a Victorian equivalent of The Divine Comedy. They could be novellas or a novel. But they are fairy tales. Without going too much in depth about my story, I can say that it explores this connection between love and a fairy tale, childhood and adulthood and the possibility to move between the two. There are other examples, of course, of similar kind of writing for children, and J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan may be the first to come to mind. Ultimately, one of the questions the story is asking is why fairy tales may be so important even when one seems old enough to get by without them; and what it takes to be able to tell a fairy tale.

To be continued…

Llandudno Diaries – 1

I went to Llandudno to explore the place because I want to set a story there. Last February I came up with an idea, which I actually explored in a short story in March, but then I put it aside to see if I may come up with something else. Indeed, sometime by October the original idea evolved, and I left for Llandudno, having written a few opening chapters and with the view of how the story would go.

Why Llandudno? I’ve been there in the summer of 2004, and it was a weird visit. In a company of four we checked into this hotel which had a tremendous view of Colwyn Bay, but our rooms were located on the top floor, the parking space which was expected to fit 11 cars looked too small even for 5, there was no elevator, and the prospect of staying in such place for a week was anything but pleasant. So we left the hotel, and it was then that we decided to drive to Llandudno. It was August, and naturally we didn’t find any vacancies in the hotels along the Promenade, and we didn’t venture further into town. But I had just enough time to take a short walk on the Promenade, where the elderly couples were strolling up and down the Victorian stones. I think what impressed me most at the time and which I remembered now when I began to write the story was Llandudno’s beach. I’ve never been a beach person myself, and at the time the only other place in England that I could compare to Llandudno was Blackpool. Blackpool had its own promenade and the beach, but there was a wall to actually protect the pedestrian path from the waves of the Irish sea.

There is no such wall in Llandudno. In fact, one evening the tide was away, and I was able to walk on the jetty (see left) very far into the bay. And this has been one of the most amazing experiences in my life. I was totally alone, and I cannot swim. It was very dark, there were no people around, and the only help, had I needed it, would have come from The Grand Hotel, which stood to my right. It certainly helped that there was no wind. So I stood on this jetty, surrounded by complete darkness. Underneath me there were the dark cold waters of Llandudno Bay, and above me there was a nightly January sky. And suddenly the stars began to appear and sparkle. I am sure it was the first time I was able to recognise some constellations. Eventually some stars were becoming brighter, and it was then that I just started to recite aloud this famous poem by Vladimir Mayakovsky:

Listen!

Listen,
if stars are lit
it means – there is someone who needs it.
It means – someone wants them to be,
that someone deems those specks of spit
magnificent.
And overwrought,
in the swirls of afternoon dust,
he bursts in on God,
afraid he might be already late.
In tears,
he kisses God’s sinewy hand
and begs him to guarantee
that there will definitely be a star.
He swears
he won’t be able to stand that starless ordeal.
Later,
He wanders around, worried,
but outwardly calm.
And to everyone else, he says:
‘Now,
it’s all right.
You are no longer afraid,
are you?’
Listen,
if stars are lit,
it means – there is someone who needs it.
It means it is essential
that every evening
at least one star should ascend
over the crest of the building.
To be continued…

Liverpool 2008 – Beatles Playlist

I’m back in Manchester. I’ve been back since Tuesday, but caught cold, which is the reason why on the day when Liverpool gets initiated as the European Capital of Culture for 2008 I’m sitting at home in Manchester instead of heading to St George’s Hall to watch the opening gala. However, I watched the BBC North West Today report from Liverpool, and the general feel I have taken away from it was that the pressure on the legendary city comes from two directions. On the one hand, all eyes are on Liverpool to perform at the level no lower (or even higher) than Glasgow. On the other hand, the year of culture is naturally expected to last longer than just 12 months, and the expectations are particularly high as far as the benefit of the culturally and socially disadvantaged communities and areas is concerned.

As a Beatlemaniac who’s been living in Manchester in the past four years, I am first of all sincerely pleased for Liverpool for its 2008 status. I can also say now that one thing that has always perplexed me in these years was this rivalry between Manchester and Liverpool, and for once I hope this bickering, however amicable, will be put aside, or left behind altogether. As someone genuinely impartial, the last thing I want is to stare at articles counting Liverpool’s hick-ups. The hick-ups are inevitable, guys. Let’s focus on the fact that for the whole of 2008 the attention will be drawn not only to Liverpool, but to England’s North West. The capital is now up north, as far as culture is concerned, and that is already a big win.

And yes, the theme that ran in the background but didn’t feature prominently was the status of Liverpool’s culture. We know what it was, and Ringo Starr is headlining the opening night this evening. But what is the state of culture now?

Just as I was thinking about it, having finished watching TV, I checked my email and found there a song sent by one of the friends. It was Brian Eno’s How Many Worlds. I started listening to it, and the opening sounded like an up-tempo opening to A Day in the Life by the Beatles. After that I spent some time browsing through the Beatles’ songs, when I realised that many comments on Liverpool’s potential to perform as the European Capital of Culture sound very much like “don’t let me down“. And, of course, when we look at Liverpool today we still associate it more with the Beatles phenomenon, – yet however important and long-lasting is their legacy, it unfortunately belongs to “yesterday“, as do the relatively peaceful times of the 1960-70s. How to change that? Well, we talk a lot about hope, faith, understanding, support, culture, but in the end, all the most beautiful things that we often assign to a country’s “culture” are born in love. And if we want to give peace a chance, we’ve got to love it. Be that the bigger world or just the city of Liverpool, to make things work “all you need is love“. That’s a job in itself, but it’s worth trying in 2008. Chances are, you won’t let it go after.

http://media.imeem.com/pl/hmzTTPlIvn/aus=false/

…………………..The picture I took in Lime St Station during a day-trip visit to Liverpool (June 2007).

Happy New Year!

And so, I’ve been in Llandudno since December 28th, and at this very moment I’m sitting at my hotel’s lounge, occasionally looking at Great Orme and the lights along the Promenade, but mostly typing and sending greeting letters and messages to my Russian friends. I spent a wonderful weekend, strolling up and down the streets in Llandudno, but for some reason I found easier this time to jot down my impressions in Russian first. Whereas with my trip to Carmarthen in June I first wrote my memories in English and then in Russian, this time Llandudno Diaries are first appearing in my Russian LiveJournal.So, the turn of the year is the time to look back and to see if one has kept up with their yesteryear’s resolutions. Last year I said I’d be looking to find more ways to express my creativity – and indeed I learnt to make slide shows and eventually accompanied the latest of them with my own narration. I wanted to keep writing great content – and this apparently has happened, as by the end of 2007 I have had my blog written about, shortlisted at the Manchester Blog Awards, and now included in the Open Directory Project. I wanted to travel, and I’ll say a few words on the subject later on, but in general this has been achieved, as well. I wanted to keep on meeting interesting and talented people and to continue to know those whom I already knew. This has happened, too, and I can particularly single out one such person who is fascinating enough to be lurking here and there on this blog, when it is appropriate. I’ve been following this person’s work for a number of years, this year I had the chance to attend a meeting with them, and what doesn’t stop amazing me is the amount of new things this person can tell every time they give an interview. I can only say that I’m looking forward to more in 2008.

One thing that I never did was visiting Moscow. Needless to say, this becomes my 2008 resolution #1. It must really be astonishing – and quite frustrating, too – that every time I say to myself “I must go to Moscow” something creeps up and I have to postpone the visit. I think the surest way to get me back to my native shores is by buying myself a ticket, as that way I’ll feel obliged to just drop everything and go.

So, in 2008 I resolve to continue with both blogs, hopefully by making the content more wide-ranging, since now I can produce short slide shows and animated stories. I’m planning to travel more. I don’t mention that I’m planning to write more, as this is what I’ve always been doing.

I’m looking forward to more inspiring meetings, trips, events. I hope that the inspiration I get from other people’s work, from nature etc. will be the inspiration for you. Which is where I want to thank once again all of you who have been leaving comments and emailing me to thank me for blogging and to encourage me to keep on with my enterprise. And I would like to thank everyone who wrote about and linked to me this year, this was a joy, a surprise, and always an honour to me.

Two things I can note about 2007. First concerns the travels: it’s all been about Wales. In June I went to South Wales; in December I went to North Wales. I don’t know what it tells (if it’s supposed to tell anything), but so it goes. The second thing concerns music. On a couple of my profiles elsewhere I noted my huge interest in music, since I love singing. 2007 has been entirely Italian in this respect. It started with me making great friends with an Italian colleague who began to send me YouTube links to such artists as Mia Martini, Mina Mazzini, Lucio Battisti. It continued with me going on my own for some time, when I discovered Patti Pravo. And it culminated in my making friends via LiveJournal with a few Russian aficionados of Italian music of the 1960-70s. I’m yet to see where it all takes me in 2008, but the start has been compelling enough to carry on in this direction.

As my circle of friends and acquaintances has grown considerably this year, I shall not repeat the last year’s personalised greetings. Instead I shall wish all of you, my friends, readers and occasional visitors, a very Happy New Year! Let all of you know that you are very dear to me for all your talent, wisdom, creativity, sense of humour and the simple fact that you are!

I should not forget to list the Top Ten posts in Los Cuadernos de Julia, as seen from Google Anaylitcs profile:

Barbra Streisand in Manchester

Lonely Shepherd (James Last and Georghe Zamfir)

Sonnet no. 3 (Edna St Vincent Millay)

My Fair Cabbage

If I Could Tell You (W. H. Auden)

Histoire de Melody Nelson (Serge Gainsbourg)

O Felici Occhi Miei, Arcadelt, and the Lute-Player

Women and Beauty in Art

Love Me (Michel Polnareff)

Matthew Barney in Manchester

I should note that this is the stats for the entire year, and they don’t entirely correspond to the most recent interest.

Last but not least, to carry on with the last year’s tradition of uploading some Russian New Year postcards, here is something many of you will no doubt cherish. This postcard comes from my family archive, it says Happy New Year in Russian (which is “s nOvym gOdom”) and – wait for this – is 100 years old!

Going Away

I have just been reading some blog posts from some friends in Manchester who wrote about their Christmas. It may be odd, but this year “je repars à zero”, to quote Edith Piaf. I’m going away to Llandudno on Friday where I’m planning to spend about a week, including the New Year Day. There is a creative purpose to my trip as I’m thinking of setting a text in Llandudno. I did some research online and on Flickr, but obviously I need to go and see everything for myself.

There’s also a personal reason. Seven years ago I did a similar thing when I went to St. Petersburg at the turn of November and December 2000. I went for a history conference at the St. Petersburg University which was a part of a two-week research trip. Yet I was adamant I’d be coming home on the day of my birthday, not a day before. I was turning twenty, and given the fact that I was born in the morning I’d turn twenty while still on the train. I felt this to be of some significance, like an initiation into the adult life: there’re no parents around, and no-one but you in the entire world (although it may be as small as a train) know that something utterly important has just happened.

I don’t know if I was right or wrong in doing this, but the adult life indeed began, and within a year of that memorable trip I was taking on some responsibilities and duties that I was sure I wanted to have. By April 2004 I wasn’t so convinced, and all the years that followed were a test to exactly what I wanted to do and how I wanted to live. I left my academic studies behind after seven years (1997-2004), having come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t the field where I wanted to express myself. The next two years that I spent in the radio (2005-2007) played a huge part in my life; I won’t write much about it simply because that’s not the topic. For personal reasons I had to change fields again, which, as I already told you, was a good thing to do under the circumstances, and it gave me a plenty of knowledge. Yet again it wasn’t “my” thing.

I’m naturally quite private, so even what I’m telling now is probably candid of me, and I’m still not saying a word about anything more personal. But the main thing, believe it or not, has happened this year. Many comments and letters I have received through the English blog were important, and once again I am very grateful to all of you who commented, wrote and linked to Los Cuadernos. I must admit, due to work this year I haven’t followed up every link to my blog from someone’s blog, and in truth I don’t mind linking at all – I just may not know about your link! So, if you’re such person, please send me a line, as I don’t want to appear uncourteous.

However, from September 2003 well until January 2007, that is, for over three years, I’ve been writing and speaking predominantly in English. I kept reading in Russian, of course, but the vacuum of conversation in my native language compelled me to start a Russian blog, which is quite similar in its topics to what I tend to write about here. Little did I know that I would acquire wonderful friends among my compatriots, some of whom live abroad these days, too. We barely talk about our country in its present moment. The conversation predominantly swirls around the topics of literature and music, but even that was enough to make me finally realise that I won’t be happy until I faithfully follow my heart. And you all know where my heart lies.

I feel like an artist or a singer before they go on stage; or like a traveller who is about to embark on a journey to the unknown land. As I wrote before, it’s only from the distance that one can look at their life and say confidently that they are happy with it. At this moment in time I’m on the road, so I have no idea how it twists and turns. Although I like disregarding gender connotations, I’m aware that, being a woman, I might feel these twists and turns differently from a man. Yet I can’t help but take the challenge, especially when I have people around me who inspire me so much both with their achievements and misfortunes. These people (and one person, in particular) I’m talking about may very well not know how important it is to me that they share their experiences. But their examples are what drives me, and I’m so grateful that they have courage to talk candidly about themselves.

So, I’m going away to Llandudno where I’ll spend a week. This time I’ve finally got the laptop, and I hope it works well for me to share whatever there will be share. The reason why I’ve chosen this place over any other is in the nature of what I’m trying to write. It’s a story of fairy-tales, and it is widely thought that it was in Llandudno that Charles Dodgson narrated to Alice Liddell what would later become the basis of Alice in Wonderland. I can only say that I feel elated that at the turn of 2007/2008 I’m free to go and devote myself to nothing but the artistic process, and I believe it is a good start to how I want to carry on.

And, of course, if there is anything in Llandudno that I should see/visit at this time of the year, please leave a comment telling me what it is. I’m particularly interested in “magical” places, with a “fairy-tale” feel. I’m very grateful in advance.

Christmas Tale

It was a sudden inspiration as I was looking through some pictures, choosing which one of them to upload to the post. I ended up writing and narrating a story for a short video clip, which you can see below. I must admit it was the first time I attempted to synchronise my voice with the pictures, which wasn’t exactly easy. I still didn’t yet learn to produce credits, so I am passing many huge “thank-yous” to those who uploaded the pictures I used in the clip.So, this is my small present to everyone who reads Los Cuadernos regularly, and to everyone who happens to land on this page in future. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing for you, so much so in fact that now you can also hear me speaking. I know that the protagonist of the clip is a little girl, but the main idea of course is that everyone all over the world is waiting for a miracle, especially on Christmas. I’m waiting for it, too, perhaps more than ever before. I wish you all a very merry and happy Christmas, and a plenty of miracles ahead.

Christmas Tale. Written, narrated and made by Julia Shuvalova

My Favourite Artois Commercials

Sam over at ArtoisBlog wrote in detail about one of my favourite Stella Artois commercials – Ice Skating Priests. I can’t remember if I saw it for the first time before or after watching Kieslowski’s Three Colours trilogy, but once I’ve known the film I knew that the leading character was played by Zbigniew Zamachowski, Karol Karol from Three Colours: White. Follow through to Sam’s article to learn about the music and some other facts (which I’m not going to divulge). I adore this commercial, and bearing in mind the date – 24th December – Ice Skating Priests should put us all in the mood for Christmas.

Another Stella’s commercial, Le Sacrifice, entered my life for the first time at Cornerhouse, before the screening of a certain film. I’m quite sure it was in 2004. This commercial is dear to me for its many a reference to French cinema of the 1900s, to surrealism and, in particular, to Louis Bunuel. Somebody on YouTube wondered why such “unfathomable” commercial was ever produced. Well, all surrealism is unfathomable; it’s all about a dream. I suppose my answer would be – this ad shows us that when you love your beverage, then no flies in the bottle or the prospect of turning into a oistrich can put you off drinking it! Absurd? But so is often surrealism.

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