Winter me (or reborn)
‘Where is the out-going freedom, the instrumental freedom from, freedom that is not this enormous possession of one’s own heart which is death?’
(Susan Sontag, Reborn)
-I wish you all a Creative New Year-
Whom I ride
“And in me too the wave rises. It swells; it arches its back. I am aware once more of a new desire, something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back. What enemy do we now perceive advancing against us, you whom I ride now, as we stand pawing this stretch of pavement? It is death. Death is the enemy. It is death against whom I ride with my spear couched and my hair flying back like a young man’s, like Percival’s, when he galloped in India. I strike spurs into my horse. Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!”
(Virginia Woolf, The Waves)
– I wish you all a lovely Happy Holiday Season!
…and thank you so much for being here…
Yours,
Kari
It roars the sea
“When the white arm rests upon the knee it is a triangle; now it is upright – a column; now a fountain, falling. It makes no sign, it does not beckon, it does not see us. Behind it roars the sea. It is beyond our reach. Yet there I venture. There I go to replenish my emptiness, to stretch my nights and fill them fuller and fuller with dreams. And for a second even now, even here, I reach my object and say, “Wander no more. All is trial and make-believe. Here is the end.”
(Virginia Woolf, The Waves)
Your hand
“I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.”
(Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena)
No One Is There
Across from behind my window screen
Demon is dancing down the scene.
In a crucial parody
Demon is dancing down the scene.
He is calling and throwing
His arms up in the air –
And no one is there.
All of them are missing as the game
Comes to a start.
No one is there.
Some are calling, some are sad,
Some are calling him mad.
No one is there.
(…)
And no sound has them
To be missing
To be missing
To be missing
(Nico, No One Is There)
6 years of beauty
“Tell me, tell me, smiling child (…)
Tell me, what is the present hour?…”
(Emily Jane Brontë, Past, Present, Future)
My face
“I looked into the mirror and saw this middle-aged woman who keeps invading my face.”
(Liv Ullmann)
Another room II
“Nothing ever comes to an end. Wherever one has sunk roots that emanate from one’s best or truest self, one will always find a home.”
(Liv Ullman, Changing)
Another room
“We who are alive at this moment are only an infinitesimal part of something that has existed for eternity and will continue when there is no longer anything to show that earth existed. Still, we must feel and believe that we are all.”
(Liv Ullman, Changing)
In the waiting room
“Nobody is one block of harmony. We are all afraid of something, or feel limited in something. We all need somebody to talk to. It would be good if we talked to each other, not just pitter patter but real talk. We shouldn’t be afraid, because most people really like this contact; that you show you are vulnerable makes them free to be vulnerable too. It’s so much easier to be together when we drop our masks.”
(Liv Ullmann, Changing)
Visual Artist
Inspired by poetry, art, life, imperfections, music, nature, dreams and antiques.
Believes that things should not be in small drawers inside large closets.
As we live our lives forwards, but understand them backwards (as Kierkegaard says).
Kari Jeppesen 