The short period of time I spent in New York consisted of moments, moments, and moments. These moments started with the man I mentioned in my previous post, who stopped us along the way to Manhattan. He did so with the question "Are you already lost or not?"
It’s an interesting feeling, to start blogging again after a break.
I would like to express my gratitude to everyone who commented on my previous post. Thank you for your kind words and compliments. I’m glad my orange day was so well received. Perhaps everyone has one of those. It’s great that you’ve enjoyed mine.
I’d like to tell you so many things about my trip to New York, and about the Art Expo – which was the main reason why we decided to visit the Big Apple right at that time.
I think that the colour orange can easily improve your mood. I like to choose topics for my walks and photography sessions. Last Saturday, orange was one of them. Maybe I was just lucky, or maybe orange is one of the most popular colours this season. One walk was pretty much enough to compile this selection of photos - plus a couple of things I photographed at home.
It was really fun and exciting. Next time, I might pick a more rare, challenging colour.
Today it is foggy and rainy in Toronto. Before that, we had a real blessing - two wonderful sunny days, which gave us a feeling of hope about the upcoming spring.
I went to a screening of Jane Eyre with my daughter. The acting was amazing, but, the way the movie was made, it felt like they were trying too hard to adapt it for the modern audience.
I now go to the pool once a week, and it makes me feel very athletic.
Hope you`re having a great week, everyone!
This photo is not mine. Its purpose is simply to draw your attention.
Every once in a while, a really obvious thing might display a rather non-obvious side, and even cause you to ask some questions. This is how I ended up asking myself – what does personal space mean to me, and how much of it is necessary?
It turned out that my relationship with space is really quite complicated. I need it often, but not always. Having personal space is not a matter of a particular location, but of a particular inner need.
There are cherry trees alleys in High Park here in Toronto. Japan has a wide variety of cherry blossoms. It is also known as "Sakura".
My heart goes out to the people of Japan.
In my second installment about my day, I will show you our trip to the exhibition called Artists Project Toronto. There, I met a few of my artist friends, and got to know new acquaintances.
Our long Sunday actually began on Saturday night. When I looked out of the balcony, I saw all this snow, and realized that the next morning, I would have a photography mission to accomplish. There is always the danger that, if you wake up too late, all the most beautiful snow will have already fallen from the branches of the trees. I got my husband to make sure I'd be up as early as possible.
Those who have read my older posts might know that I am not an early morning person. Still, we managed to get ourselves up, and made our way to High Park. The place was almost completely quiet. There were no cars at that hour, and pretty much no other people. I began my photo session:
This is a reception at a lovely gallery that I have a long-term relationship with. In the little windows are my creations - my birds and a dogs. I really love this gallery - it always hosts amazing artists in its beautiful space.
When I found this video, my delight was endless, because the colours in it are so spring-like. They inspire recklessness that's forgivable only in the spring.
Every winter and early spring, I am faced with a question of utmost importance. What manner of incredible headgear will I wear when the frost will take away the option of going out without one?
A beret? I used to love berets, until the moment Monica Lewinsky dishonoured them, just as she did with blue dresses. Goodbye berets. Although some people can fearlessly wear both blue dresses and berets. Even the fiancee of Prince William (what's her name again?).
A knitted hat? Every year, knitted hats seem to undergo strange mutations. I tremble in fear when I see them sprout little faces, horns, or ears. Whenever I see this type of creative knitting in front of me, it’s hard to focus on the actual human face that’s wearing it. I just see the owl or the koala bear.
My daughter wears a hat with a pig’s face on it. I’m not quite so brave.
I don’t even want to think about fur hats. I remember them as objects of pride and prestige, worn by my aunts in Russia. I couldn’t possibly go back to the times when actual dead animals were positioned on the head. However, if I see other people wearing fur hats, I generally don’t harass them.
What’s left is the boring and dependable coat hood with a faux-fur trim around it, which can be clipped under your chin in order to survive a frosty Toronto evening.
Winter headgear always reminds me of flower buds or sprouts on the branches of trees. They were waiting for springtime and the moment of bloom. They are waiting for love.
