travelling in the city, working, living

 Weather report. Grey sky, temperature down.

My need to travel is there. I try to remind myself I have decided to do it according to a plan. I am going to do it when the time comes. Like a small child I am impatient. Slow down kid, you will get your sweet sooner or later.

These days teaching takes part of my time and I enjoy it more than I thought. The more you do it, the more you relax and give out your true self. I am lost in the stories of the past, the anecdotes of art history, I try to make my class interesting and not dry. They seem to like it. At least I like it. I'm so greatful for that chance I got!

I'm also a volunteer in a gallery. It's not easy being a volunteer anymore. But... It keeps me busy. It gets me out of the house. But... I need the money. But... I can't work for free. But... I can't use all that knowledge and time and not expect something in return! All the "but s" are there. I try not to moan. Everything is my choice. I know my worth and I'll do it for as long as I please.

There is no internet in the gallery. So I sit down and write my book. Listen to music. Not many visitors yet, so I get a lot of time alone.

For the last couple of weeks I take care of a stray. He is very much like Freeda. Black with white toes and chest. He is young but a giant. Every morning he welcomes us in the park and they play like dogs do. I'm so glad Freeda has a friend! The rest of the dogs do not play, they are just strays, afraid of people, afraid of other dogs... but he is different, a sweetie, a real getleman. I hope I find him a home so I get the chance to see him every once in a while. Otherwise he might just dissappear and I will not know where he went. For the time being, I take care of him and I feed him.

My days are fine, busy and wonderful.

travellerlina revisited

When my teacher, Jonah, told me three years ago that my purpose in life is to be a traveller, I took the term "traveller" quite literally. For two years I named a blog travellerlina and set out to travel literally, no matter what the cost.

I did not hear my frends' voices who were saying that there is another meaning to travelling: travel gracefully through the coincidences and the deeds of life in a more general way.

Three years later, I come to consider and reconsider "travellerlina" the difficult name I have chosen for myself and no one can pronounce properly!

We are - I am - in constant movement. Life drives us here and there, we "travel" through the days and the months and the years... Whether we like it or not, we are not the same; moment after moment. Whether we get on a plane to fly somewhere or just day-dream looking at the ceiling, we are still on the move.

I still don't know what that teacher meant and I don't know whether I'll ever get the true meaning of his words. The one thing I have gained, though, is that I see eveything I do, every choice I make through the "travel" prism.

I always have my camera at hand. I am an eternal "tourist-traveller". In awe of my neighborhood. In awe of my city. I try to see everything as fresh and new as I would a foreign country. And believe me, there is beauty in the city I once thought as boring and ugly. I used to go through Athens trying to see it as a tourist would. And it gave me nice litte surprises always.

We are all travellers through life. So we may as well enjoy the process!

the day tears stopped

And then the sun is up again.
You've cried so much you can't cry anymore.
You can't do anything but smile.

the day tears came

A few months ago I wrote this post and felt like reading it once more.

Today is a difficult day. A day of crying. A day of looking back. A wonderful sunny day filled with anger and tears. It might be the stars above. It might be my period. Whatever it is, I feel like shit.

 I guess this too, will pass.

Can I dedicate this day to moaning?
Am I allowed to cry because I don't see light?
Six months without a job.
One tiny job - the art history job - with it's only prospect being fininshed in a month because of lack of interest.

Where the fuck is my laughter today? Where the fuck is my strength? Where the fuck are my dreams and imagination?

It's all because of expectations. I had many expectations and they are all crumbling down. Today. I was expecting to get a job, to be payed for my fucking knowledge. But I am a coward. It's too scary to be paid for what you know. There is a little devil inside who says I can't make money for something I like doing. I was expecting to be independent, do as I please. Get a bloody driver's licence.

There are so many people out there these days who feel the same. Am I picking up on the feelings of mass consciousness? Am I picking the saddness and despair?

Expectations are the worst thing that can happen to you. You attach on your expectations and when they don't get fullfilled, you dispair.

Who bloody cares?

Here I am. Moaning publicly. I could stay silent, don't expose my hurt feelings. Think this too shall pass. But this is me. Don't read if you don't want to. I cannot be constantly happy. Tears are on cue for everyone. At some point.

I'll go walk my dog. Sit on a bench and think.
Hope your day is better than mine today.

...

I do owe the readers an update on my teaching.

It went really well. I was very nervous, but I liked talking to the people, disscussing with them. My chosen subject was the portrayal of women through the centuries. I found this amazing video on youtube and we kicked off from there. It was interesting to know the students, all five of them. aged from 33 to 85. My class should have at least 8 people to continue, so October will be spent waiting to see if more people will come.

However, I have decided to have fun while it lasts. At the end of this month I will also teach the children. It will hopefully be another happy and creative experience.

I don't feel very creative these days either. This seems to be one of these weeks where "the wave" as I like to call it, wants you to sit down and do nothing.

So I'll sit and do nothing and still enjoy it!

Teaching

 An empty post can be so intimidating sometimes...

You think about your blog and then you just drift off reading other people's stuff. You read all these interesting articles other people wrote. Just to avoid yourself and what you have to say.

So, having nothing in particular in mind, I'm throwing my words in my blog.

September's harvest has been rich.

I am nervous about my first class tomorrow. Me, teaching History of Art. Me, being the teacher. It is not the first time, but it is the first "formal" time. In front of adults. Who will probably be older than me. What have I got to teach them? Long time ago I waived my art history knowledge. Now I have been called upon. To remember all my knowledge. To read again, to find interesting anecdotes to share.

I remember how anecdotes kept my interest more than actual dates. I remember loving the teachers who made me think - look - make my own decisions. This is the teacher I want to be. The one who will engage my audience. The one who will make them love the paintings. The one who will make them LOOK at the paintings. Leonardo Da Vinci, Boticelli, Titian, Mattisse, Bonnard, Dali, Picasso... all these names mean a lot to me, but will I be able to share this love with others?

Art History is supposedly a difficult subject. Meaning it is theory. It is not DIY, sit down and create. But I am a practical person. I want to integrate theory into an active dialogue. All this will be done while my laptop betrays me. It overheats and turns off. It's the bloody full moon.

In my experience, everything will go wrong and then, in the last minute everything will be ok.

Now that I shared all the moaning and groaning, I can relax and enjoy the process. My subject for my first class is women and the way they are portayed over the centuries. My second class will be men, my third will be children, my fourth will be dogs and so on. I will also listen to the needs of my students and form my classes according to their needs.

Deep inside I do feel I have to offer.

Let's see how it goes....

Wish me luck!

The Tap Experience

Creativity alert!

I don't know what's happening to me. There is a tap that opened and has flooded my heart, my soul, my senses... It is the tap of inspiration.

I have started writing a book. A book that I stoped writing because of Antonis's illness. I remembered it about a month ago. My small note book got lost. I left it back in Sifnos. So, I started all over again. And it's simply too much fun! I love it!

Have you ever thought of your creativity as a water tap? You keep it closed and look enviously at other people's taps flooding their lives. You read their interviews and look at their work. Slowly, you turn your tap on, just a tiny little bit. It just drips. One drop every day. The water is not enough. The bucket underneath the tap is still empty. You turn the tap a tiny little bit more. You are scared. What if the bucket fills up? What are you going to do with all this water? Steadily you turn the tap more and more. Your bucket is full, ready to water your garden plants. Along the way you meet peoplle who encourage you to open your tap a little bit more. You feel they want to drink your water.

It is a slow, but wonderful experience. Let's call it "The Tap Experience"!

So, let your tap open. Miracles will follow. Wet miracles! Ha ha ha!

Have a good day, love yourself for what you are, forgive yourself for what you were.

On relationships

Listening to the rain. The first rain of the fall. The rain makes you want to stay inside. Makes your crave for a hug. Makes you crave for someone to stay in bed with. The rain makes you want to stay in and write. Or drink coffee and read articles on the net.

The rain reminds you of the winter that is coming. The winter you tend to forget, when it's 40 degrees outside for two months non-stop.

Wet soil smells lovely. The sky is gray but colours are vibrant.

The time has come for me to want something like a relationship. For the past months I have been declaring. I love being alone. I am in love with me. I can do it on my own. How very convenient... How very un-true.

Sometimes you lie to yourself. You declare there is only you. And I can see women, strong women out there not committing. They say they cannot find anyone to think alike. They crave love and they are chasing dreams. Dreams of sweaty bed sheets. With the one you love so much. The one who has the body you know every inch of.

All my life I have been balancing between being in a relationship and not being in a relationship. What is better? What fills you the most? I don't think I have the answer yet. Being alone now, makes me think I do want someone to share my achievements with. Back when I was in a relationship I wanted to be free to do whatever I chose. I wanted to be alone.

What do I dream of? I dream of the "Big O" (a tale by Sel Siverstein, watch it here)
Am I a Big O? I certainly feel like one. I don't have a missing piece. I don't "need" anyone. I want a Big O who will roll with me at ease. Who will not "need" me.

We go about in life. We try this and that and the next one. The Universe is giving us choices. We take a step right. And then we turn left. And then straight again. And backwards. Forward. Right. Left. Straight... so on. We move perpetually, change choices and goals. We love, we taste, we live. Alone, in relationships, then alone again, then in relationships... What do we learn? Who will be next? Is it going to stop when you find your "Big O"?

Fall 2012: a new era begins

So...

The exhibition went well.

There where a lot of things to worry about. The wooden frame broke on the day we were supposed to set up the exhibition. I decided not to get angry or worried. It got fixed on time. We set up and all the friends were there to support us...

In the weekend a lovely lady had her perma-culture seminar so I ended up spending the whole day in nature with wonderful people talking about sustainability in crops and gardens. One of my favorite topics!

The exhibition is now finished and I'm involved in new, exhiting projects!

The artist's community invited me to teach art history, one adult class and one children's class! I don't want my class to be a boring theory class, I want it to be thrilling and engaging. Both adults and children will be able to play and create. Be inspired by the Renaissance superstars, the Dutch masters even the American painters of abstraction! It's going to be so much fun! I do hope people come to my classes...

My other love, the love for languages is hopefully make me some money. I'll teach english...

Plus some book presentations by friends who have recently published their books. I'll be glad if I can bring some cultural stir in this small town of mine...

It's going to be an exciting winter with a lot of new experiences.

I can't wait!

The fine line, will you step to the other side?

Lately I have been thinking about this fine line that separates one from being an art lover to being an artist. One moment you look at a great painting in a museum. Then, one fine day, you decide to paint or sketch. You read books like a maniac. And then you take a pen and start writing your own story. You appreciate nice photographs on the internet. And then you take your camera and go out of the door and start photographing.

It takes courage and determination to step to the other side. You are scared. You have second thoughts. You don't like the results. But you keep on doing it. You embrace the mistakes. You forgive yourself for all the wrong sentences you wrote, all your brushes' bad strokes, all the blurred images your camera took.

There comes a moment, that whatever it is you created, asks to be exposed. It becomes a creature on its own and wants to be appreciated. It shouts, it wants to get out of the closet and the drawer you have hidden it. You must listen to it. You should really give it a chance. Send your poem to that poetry competition. Create a blog to write. Whatever. Get it out there. Find someone who will get it out there despite your fear.

The next stage is even harder. You might get approval for what you created. You might get the first prize. You might even get money from what you created. You want to run and hide. Of course you can run and hide. But you might as well embrace your success.

Yes, there will be ones who will critisize you. "You could have done it THIS WAY". Yes, but this is MY way. Bad comments usually come from people who do not dare step out of their comfort zone and actually create what hides inside them. You must endure the criticism. Draw some strength from inside. Artists are sensitive creatures. They want to run and hide.

I wish people could be more sensitive with artists. The artist has put his heart out there. The artist had chosen to step out of the comfort zone.

These are my stages. I have gone through these stages. I am now the artist. Fear used to be predominant, but I guess pride is stronger now. I feel more confident. Today my bags, my bracelets, my tobacco pouches are going to be exposed. For the first time. I will be selling my own creations.

Lets see how it goes...