Georgia O'Keeffe, on making the unknown known.

I feel that a real living form is the result of the individual’s effort to create the living thing out of the adventure of his spirit into the unknown—where it has experienced something—felt something—it has not understood—and from that experience comes the desire to make the unknown—known.

By unknown—I mean the thing that means so much to the person that wants to put it down—clarify something he feels but does not clearly understand—sometimes he partially knows why—sometimes he doesn’t—sometimes it is all working in the dark—but a working that must be done—

Making the unknown—known—in terms of one’s medium is all-absorbing—if you stop to think of the form—as form you are lost—The artist’s form must be inevitable—You mustn’t even think you won’t succeed—Whether you succeed or not is irrelevant—there is no such thing.

Making your unknown known is the important thing—and keeping the unknown always beyond you—catching crystallizing your simpler clearer version of life—only to see it turn stale compared to what you vaguely feel ahead—that you must always keep working to grasp—the form must take care of its self if you can keep your vision clear.

Georgia O’Keeffe (painter) writing to Sherwood Anderson (writer).  

Source: Brain Pickings.

There was something about this small article, by Maria Popova, that made me want to note these words and keep them to read again and again.  I loved the first paragraph most particularly.

I enjoy reading what artists write to each other, seeming to want to think on an important thing that so many wouldn't find important or interesting.  Sometimes these things seem like the real stuff of life, as opposed to the forms we fill out and the lives that we Must live in that 'real' world people talk of.

Soon I will be heading off on another adventure, in a small village somewhere between Naples and Rome.  There is a house and some dogs that I've been invited to visit, while breathing some good country air, with a view that I suspect I might want to photograph every day.

There is a book that wants to be written, or two.  There are the photography workshops to announce, the ones I've planned for 2015.  There is a bar where I'm hoping the espresso is perfect and where my beloved crema brioches are possible.  Where there's a delightful red wine waiting for me.

Another adventure in Italy, in that land where everything is possible and sometimes, just sometimes, you find giantic lightbulbs out in the carrugi.

Photographed ... in the Carrugi, Genova

The author of Dear Miss Fletcher published one of my photographs, the one where I captured her at work in her beautiful city.

I saw her there in the distance and broke my promise not to photograph her.  But really, I would have deleted if she hadn't approved.  In this instance she felt it was the perfect photograph of her and here you have her.

I still remember her walking me through streets I had walked so often but without an intimate knowledge of the secrets they held.  And so often she would turn to me and tell me, 'I have something to show you ...'  

And so often, she did.

Old Friends, & New ...

I haven't talked with Tanya since we were teenagers.  We reconnected via Facebook and soon worked out that catching up was something we'd like to do ... next time she was in Europe.

Tanya and Ruby flew arrived on Tuesday, postponed by a day due to the very 'special' union strike actions taking place here ... that would be the one that shut down the international airport on Monday. 

We picked up where we'd left off really and it's been a marvelous few days of stories and laughter.  Some wine too.  There will be photographs but for the most part, talking has taken precedence. 

Old friends from far-away are good friends.

Meanwhile I'm told Christmas is approaching.  I don't see it  ... there are no Dawsons cherries on display, no strawberries.  The weather is grey and cold.  The kids are still in school.  No daylight saving.

I'm currently caught in the Christmas grinch mode, not feeling Christmassy at all but perhaps it will pass.  Anyway, for now there's a few more days to enjoy with Tanya and Ruby and that is something to smile about.

A happy memory in the image below.  Lorenzo is a long-time friend from Genova, owner of Cibi e Libri, and this visit saw me introduced to his project partners, Peter and composer, Stefano Fasce.

Missing Genova

I miss Via Ravecca, the open window I work next to there, and the noise of the street below. 

I love the way life sounds lived there in the old part of the city of Genova.

I miss the smell of the farinata nearby.  And the overflow of people, their talk and their laughter, at Pizzeria Ravecca. 

I miss walking through Porta Soprana on my way to someplace nice everyday.

I miss the beautiful fountain in Piazza De Ferrari.  And I miss Palazzo Ducale.

I miss 15 celsius because I have returned to -1 celsius. 

I miss interviewing the people of Genova about their quietly remarkable lives.

I'm missing Genova.

The photograph here was taken by Dear Miss Fletcher ... who wrote, E poi siamo passate all’Antica Barberia Giacalone.