I'm smitten with German-Italian artist Willy Verginer's life-size wood sculptures. (It's hard to believe they're made of wood, when you're looking at them.)
When I first saw this one it reminded me of a Belly lyric that I've always liked:
I've had bad dreams / So bad I threw my pillow away
Cariatidi via booooooom.com
Cecità Voluta (Deliberate Blindness) via booooooom.com
I'm not typically drawn to hyperrealistic art, because art for me is a portal to other worlds, and I want to be asked to use my imagination. But Verginer's use of colour, texture, and juxtaposition adds enough quirk, whimsy, and darkness to deliciously hint at the surreal.
detail from Cecità Voluta via booooooom.com
The artist at work via tenwordsandoneshot.com
I think he's incredibly talented. Among my favorites is another collection of his, called Bergluft, which depicts a cast of colourful characters atop beautifully carved, man-sized craggy mountain peaks.
“It's much easier to not know things sometimes. Things change and friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody.
...Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Because it's okay to feel things. I was really there. And that was enough...”
"A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies..." - Gustav Flaubert
Jenna Adams
I just lost a dear friend. And Flaubert's was the quote that most closely expressed how I feel. It seems unjust for his life to end so young, there's just no making sense of it. My heart hurts for his family. I still can't truly reconcile it - the idea that he's no longer physically here with us; that our wish for longer with him can't make it so.
He was warm, protective, smart, and really generous - with a hilariously dark sense of humour. He somehow managed to be silly and quietly dignified at the same time. Our friendship got off to an amusing start when we met at a party where (after a few drinks) I accidentally tried to introduce him to his sister. He was one of those rare souls with whom you could have fun while doing absolutely nothing. I felt understood by him, and it's very hard to accept that he is gone.
As soon as he told me his diagnosis (esophageal cancer), it seemed like I instantly knew his time was very short (because deep down he knew, I think), but it's still hard to believe it could happen this quickly. It was a beautiful sunny morning a week ago when the news came that he had died - the last day of summer, in fact. For a second the cheery weather seemed at odds with the knot of grief in my throat. But after I cried for a few minutes, I had the sensation that the weather was warm... like him. I had a little thought, like, "Maybe his spirit is in the sunbeams now?" and that seemed fitting.
His self-deprecating sense of humour was still present in his emails from the hospital at the beginning of summer when he first received his diagnosis - he said, "...as you can tell there is plenty of feeling sorry for myself, but the idea will be that if my time is limited to enjoy it as much as I can." And... "I'm not a maudlin person, but sometimes you have to let go. I just want you to know how important you've been to me, I've enjoyed every moment I've spent with you."
Those words of his are a gift, and I want to keep them in mind, and honour them moving forward.
And think happily of the memories...
So, I've been thinking... Platitudes like "everything happens for a reason" don't seem comforting, they seem vague and reductive and trite. I don't know if I'll ever see a reason for Steve to suffer and leave us so young. Instead, I prefer the matter-of-fact way that novelist Kurt Vonnegut describes the difficult things we mortals wrestle with. He doesn't try to explain the inexplicable, he simply says, "...And so it goes."(Slaughterhouse-Five) That feels more right to me. Sometimes being alive means hurting an awful lot, and there's just no pretty way of saying it.
But... my friend was brave. So I will try to be, too. Rather than be maudlin, I can try to think about the last lessons he leaves with me...
And I guess it's this: for all of us, our time is limited. We don't know what that limit is, but we do know our time on this Earthly playground is finite. I don't want to lose focus on what really matters - which is, in fact, very little. Our relationships with other people are important, and not a lot else. Not our egos, or our reputations, or our accomplishments. I want to try to do right by the people and situations that are entrusted to my temporary care, and to try to leave more of a positive trail than a negative one in my wake. When dealing with people, I will ask myself, as Suze Orman suggests, not only 'is it true?', but also 'is it kind?', and 'is it necessary?'
There's no making sense of his passing. But I can accept that a lot of things are out of my control, and moving forward, I will try to sweat them far, far less...
And of those things that are in my control, my goal will be simply to leave anything in at least as good a condition as I inherited it. To realize that whatever small gifts or talents I have are not mine, but mine to share.
Most of all, I want to savour the present moment and have more fun with it. I want to really suck the juice out of this lemon while I can - and then leave with no regrets.
Jenna Adams
I can aim for less anxiety and distraction and fear, and more curiosity and engagement and kindness. And I intend to keep laughing. A lot. Laughter is like a little portal to heaven, where my friend doesn't seem so far away.
On that note, this traditional Scottish & Irish folk song sung by Ed Sheeran feels like a suitable tribute... (An early version of the poem is sometimes attributed to Sir Alex Boswell.)
The Parting Glass
Of all the money that e'er I had I've spent it in good company And all the harm that e'er I've done Alas it was to none but me And all I've done for want of wit To memory now I can't recall So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all
Of all the comrades that e'er I had They are sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'er I had They would wish me one more day to stay But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I'll gently rise and I'll softly call Good night and joy be with you all
A man may drink and not be drunk A man may fight and not be slain A man may court a pretty girl And perhaps be welcomed back again But since it has so ordered been By a time to rise and a time to fall Come fill to me the parting glass Goodnight and joy be with you all Goodnight and joy be with you all
Jenna Adams
Cheers to you, Steve. You were important to me too.
"What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us." - Helen Keller
Even though the Spring shows are currently happening, I can't get my head to stay there. When the leaves are changing, and the air is bracing, I want to think about layering up - the boots, the hats, the wooly socks...
I have to admit, I never expected that I'd fancy Victoria Beckham's designs... Victoria herself often looks a bit too severe for my personal taste. But I want to wear literally every single piece in her Autumn/Winter 2012 RTW collection! Which is not something I'd say lightly...
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
It's just a brilliant little capsule collection of dresses and coats, with beautiful finishes and accessories.
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
From the dresses, to the coats, to the clean, rich-looking leather accessories, it's all timeless and really wearable.
Olivier Claisse/firstVIEW
Olivier Claisse/firstVIEW
Olivier Claisse/firstVIEW
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
The tailoring is razor-sharp, and every detail about the cut-outs and colour-blocking is designed to flatter.
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
Olivier Claisse/firstVIEW
The well-considered embellishments - exposed zippers, brass buttons, flap pockets, and epaulets are military inspired, but not in a costumey way. Just enough to provide the perfect masculine/feminine tension. Everything's streamlined and chic.
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
Olivier Claisse/firstVIEW
Olivier Claisse/firstVIEW
And I adore the slouchy layered socks with the boots, which is something I already do anyway.
Marcio Madeira/firstVIEW
I am one smitten kitten. If she keeps this up, she'll be joining the Michael Kors and Christopher Bailey (masters of classic, wearable luxe) club.
