There are a few songs that are always favourite and that I always like sharing with people. In Just the Way You Are the main theme is being true to whatever there really is in the person; to what makes them who they are. Colleagues, friends, lovers, relatives, we all try to be better, to improve ourselves, but sometimes we do it for the sake of someone else. My point is that this should be done for our own sake because whatever respect and recognition we receive from others, it always relates to our core, not to superfluous exterior.
Month: January 2010
London Walks – 1
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| Botolph Alley, London |
Every time I come to London I find it mysterious. When I go by taxi from Euston to elsewhere in the early hours of the morning, the streets and people look so strange. It’s like they’ve just stopped being someone else, and are now becoming someone they are going to be until dusk. As I ride past, I see them gradually turning into clerks, executives, cleaners, and students, while at night they were all seducers and innocentis, pagans who dance and sing their sacred hymns in crowded neon temples and dedicate every act of copulation to the Almighty Deity that is thought to endow you with eternal youth and freedom.
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| Westminster, London |
I have always used to stay in a different part of London. The first time there I lived in a student hostel in Fitzroy Street; the second – in a friend’s flat at Beckenham Junction; then in a hotel in Sussex Gardens, with the Hyde Park just down the road;then in South Kensington; then again in Sussex Gardens, again close to the Park. I don’t know where I stay next time, but my dream is to spend the entire night walking in the streets. I’ve walked in London until early hours of the night, but never in the early hours of the morning.
I love this London’s mystery because I am a dreamer. Where you normally find sleep-walkers, in me you find someone fascinated by illusions. They are not hallucinations; they are illusions of what is around me, and what I see happening. This is why I write, and this is also why I love cinema. I cherish the dream of immersing myself into the bowels of this monster, the city that many people fear so passionately, deny so resolutely, and admire so grudgingly.
© Julia Shuvalova 2006 (additions 2009)
My Father, a Photographer
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| Julia at 18 months… |
I posted my dad’s photos previously; on the photo on the right you can see a colour version of the famous triptych where I was posing with his camera, not yet 2 years old. As you may notice, as well, I changed a lot: I used to have blonde hair and blue eyes, mais non plus :-).
Just days ago my dad sent me several photos of the Russian wintery forest, which I would like to share with all of you. Along with what you have seen previously, this is yet another proof that some things do run in the family.
Song (Love Is the Colour of You)
At the end of 2009 I had the chance to write the lyrics to the music. This basically meant that I had to “find” the melody and to adapt the lyrics to it. I loved the experience, all the more so because I had to sing it, as well. The composer is based in Russia, and alas, the fruits of this collaboration are yet to ripen. But the lyrics are already written, and I thought it would make no harm posting the text here.
Love Is the Colour of You
And so I fly away again.
I get up early and take the plane
And it will take me far away,
To the land of summer and no rain.
I love the colours of distant lands,
The purple mountains and yellow sands,
But there is just one precious colour
That I cannot find…
It is the colour of you
When I see you in my dreams.
Baby, I know it’s you
But I’m yet to find you here.
I catch your rare shades
In the glow of sunrise.
Baby, you must be there,
For I can see your eyes,
For I can feel your skin,
For you’re already in,
Deeper than anything.
And I have been drawing and drawing
You in my notebooks, forever drawing,
So that you get closer and closer,
So that I can hold you, and hold you.
Love is the colour of you
That nobody knows but me.
Everything that I do
Carries your shade in it.
I see it through the smoke,
I feel it in the rain,
But maybe with the snow
Here will you come and stay.
Baby, I know you will come true.
There’ll be a day when I wear the colour of you.
© Julia Shuvalova 2009
Image credit: MILAN
Arthoughts
…I am thinking of one artist. Like him, I am not interested in goblins and airy castles. Certainly, there is certain beauty in all this, but I need real people. And it is them whom I want to write about.
Schnittke was prepared to break his neck but to find the fusion of classical and popular music. “A Paganini” sounds even more Paganini than the latter’s work.
Mario Vargas Llosa writes cinematic novels. Kurt Vonnegut was the master of telegraphic style. Peter Greenaway makes films like a painter.
“Art is a lie”. “All art is quite useless”. “Culture neither saves, nor justifies anyone”. “This illusion is the only reality”.
In reverse order, these phrases belong to Maugham, Sartre, Wilde, and Picasso. But art and culture is the mirror in which the man looks. It is the portrait of Dorian Gray that grows older, while its sitter remains youthful. Mankind constantly rejuvenates itself, every day it becomes younger; meanwhile the paintings perish and statues lose body parts in fires, floods, and bombings. We admiringly gaze at the heads without noses and armless torsos. Is there any wonder that Death exists not only because its mystery is unfathomable but because it remains unnoticed?
Original Russian text
Я вспоминаю одного художника. Как и ему, мне не интересны гоблины и воздушные замки. Безусловно, во всем этом есть своя прелесть, но мне нужны живые люди. И писать я хочу о них же.
Шнитке собирался свернуть шею, но найти-таки способ соединять классическую и популярную музыку. “К Паганини” звучит еще более как Паганини, чем все произведения последнего.
Марио Варгас Льоса пишет кинематографичные романы. Курт Воннегут – мастер телеграфного стиля. Гринуэй снимает кино, как живописец.
“Искусство – ложь”. “Все искусство практически не нужно”. “Культура никого ни от чего не спасает, да и не оправдывает”. “Вот эта-то иллюзия и есть единственная реальность”.
Это сказали, в обратном порядке, Моэм, Сартр, Уайльд, Пикассо. Но культура и искусство – это зеркало, в которое глядится человек. Это портрет Дориана Грэя, стареющий по мере того, как сохраняет молодость модель. Человечество все время обновляется, каждый день оно становится моложе; а в это же время в пожарах, наводнениях и бомбежках погибают картины и теряют части тела статуи. Мы восхищаемся, глядя на головы без носов и безрукие торсы. Стоит ли удивляться, что Смерть существует не только потому, что ее тайна непостижима, но и потому, что ее не замечают?
Image credit: Wikimedia
The Remains of Santa
The Remains of Santa, originally uploaded by loscuadernosdejulia.
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| Christmas Undone, Manchester |
It so happened that I documented both the rise and demise of Santa Claus that descends annually on Manchester. On November 10, 2009 I, together with many others, could witness the fellow being put above the entrance to the Town Hall. And on January 5, 2010 I saw the disembodied Santa…
S Rozhdestvom!
I wish a very happy Orthodox Christmas to all readers who celebrate it! The postcard is once again from my family’s archive, and the video below presents the picturesque winter landscape of the ancient Russian town of Suzdal.
Manchester Town Hall in the Snow
How Many Snowmen Are There?
Such was the scene in Sackville Gardens in Manchester, and this was the largest number of snowmen I’ve ever seen within a fairly small space. Go ahead, count ’em all!
Reading the Tea Leaves – From Poem to Song
I love coffee, and in 2000 I wrote the poem Reading the Tea Leaves. This is a kind of linguistic truism: the English say “reading the tea leaves“, while in Russian we say “reading the coffee grounds“. I explain this so that you do not wonder as to why I mentioned I loved coffee. Admittedly, ten years down the line I do not quite remember how it was composed, but I believe I was at once inspired by the poem Déjeuner du Matin by Jacques Prévert and the song Padam, Padam by Edith Piaf.
A couple of years ago a friend of mine from Moscow who plays and sings in the band told me he composed music to the poem. I liked what I heard, and two years later there is now their debut album, Sun Inside, and the song is called Padam-Padam. Thus I am now officially the author of the song lyrics (the song is in Russian).
The video below is created purely for promotional purposes, it is not official, but considering the problems I’ve been running into lately with audio hosting solution, mixing up a couple of images with the music seems like a decent way out of my conundrum. Skip below for translation of the original Russian text… and some Russian text.
Я от всей души поздравляю группу с выходом альбома, желаю ребятам творческих и жизненных успехов, с отдельными пожеланиями Николаю и Роману. Ну, а себя я поздравляю с тем, что я теперь официально являюсь автором текста песни. И опять же благодарю за это Колю, поскольку, как ни странно, вдохновляться тоже нужно уметь.