Artful Nuance

Once Upon a Time

2012-01-22T23:50:00.000-05:00

Quite a few events have taken place over the course of this first month of the new year. A little too many for my taste. I prefer a gentler flow of time. I like to be able to observe the rays of the sun as they glide across my tablecloth. One such ray stumbles upon a teacup or a tangerine. It freezes for a moment. Then it jumps over the object, and continues on its way. With all the concerns that I have had to settle in the last little while, I haven't even been able to find a moment to visit High Park. And that should tell you a lot. My stress levels are pretty high at the moment.

Many thanks to all those who are leaving me comments and visiting my blog. I promise that, after a bit of time, I will answer all of your questions. And, of course, I will recall our move from Moscow to Toronto, once upon a time.

Happy New Year to all those who celebrate the Chinese New Year.

A Сouple of Things, and a Thought

2012-01-17T10:37:00.000-05:00

If you start packing up the things you have acquired over the course of 11 years, you're bound to make some interesting and unexpected discoveries.

I have found the shoes that I had brought from Moscow, which you can now safely call vintage. I even thought "What if, instead of a Little Red Riding Hood, there was a Little Red Shoes? The fairy tale would have a completely different ending".

Eat, Pray, Pack

2012-01-09T18:47:00.000-05:00

This image isn't mine; I found it on the Internet. However, it reflects our current state of affairs pretty well.

With the chaos that has overtaken our home due to packing, lots of love and one cat can save the day.

Also, I wouldn't refuse some extra help in the kitchen. Any volunteers? I'm tired of eating takeout.

Marry Christmas to all Eastern Orthodox People!

2012-01-05T21:54:00.001-05:00

I'd like to wish a Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it on January6/7th!

I hope you spend it with the people you love.

New Year's Resultions and Some of My New Blogging Rules

2012-01-01T22:17:00.000-05:00

I'd like to wish you all a Happy New Year, and hope you have a great one. Thank you very much to everyone who commented on the previous post. Also, thank you to my new followers; I really appreciate you reading my blog. Those of my readers who have been following me for a while know that my family is about to move to a new house. The month of January will be devoted to packing our stuff. Because of this, unfortunately, I will not be able to carry on with my usual active blogging life. I will update as often as I can, and let you know how the changes go. I regret to say that, at the moment, I will not be able to respond to each comment individually. However, I will visit your blogs in whatever spare time I may be able to find.

Now, on the subject of my New Year's Resolutions. Last year, I had only one wish: to learn how to live in the moment. This year, I have chosen a different direction; I am going to try to be more active on my own, and try to learn and use as many new skills as possible.

And now, here are some bits and pieces from my holidays:

I have met this Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. He gave me a hug, and also a candy cane. I think it's a good omen.

Our cat is a little confused on the subject of why the bookshelves are now empty of books. He decided to use them as best as he can.

I have been going through my old photos, and I have found this one, of my daughter, jumping into the sea on our holiday in Turkey. I feel about the same right now.

Happy Holidays!

2011-12-23T21:20:00.001-05:00

I wish you all happiness, good health, success, and a fulfilling blogging life for the next year!

Where to Buy Your Gourmet Food in Toronto

2011-12-19T23:12:00.000-05:00

Whenever I want to buy deliciously prepared food, find an excellent selection of cheeses, add a quality olive oil to my collection, sample some interesting sauces, taste a variety of aromatic teas and coffees, discover a new type of organic snack, or buy a luxurious box of chocolates for my friends, I don't need to bounce around different stores all over the city. I can just pop down the street and visit Max's Market at 2299 Bloor Street West in Toronto.

Please, have a look around with me, but be sure to arrive having eaten, and don't say I didn't warn you.

The next image isn`t mine, but I hope that Santa Claus will be generous to all of you.

Our Christmas Tree's New Friends

2011-12-17T22:09:00.000-05:00

When I was little, I would take out Christmas decorations, which I have inherited from my grandparents, and I would have conversations with each one of them. After moving to Canada, our family had to buy our decorations all over again, because we couldn't transport fragile, breakable things. We have decided that, each year, we will try to find something unique.

Last year, I had already posted about this store - Write Impressions at 2215 Bloor Street West. This year, I have visited it again, because I'm their loyal customer. They have, once again, given me the opportunity to take some photos in their store. I hope you will enjoy the rest of this post. My two purchases are in the last two photos.

Speaking of Politics

2011-12-15T20:39:00.000-05:00

Some of my readers have asked my opinion on the subject of what's going on in Russia.

As you might have noticed, I usually don't touch on political topics, for the simple reasons that I'm not very good at it. I think people ought to be public only on the subjects that they are good at.

If you have smiled while reading my posts and thought about something pleasant, I feel that the mission of this blog is accomplished.

In order to answer this question after all, I will end this post with the following picture.

(The image isn't mine)

Closer to Christmas

2011-12-11T17:39:00.001-05:00

I love it when weekends start a little earlier - for example, on a Thursday. This weekend began just like that, with a visit to my Italian friend Emanuela. She made me some tiramisu herself. I probably shouldn't say that every Italian women is an excellent cook, and when you eat something made by her, your state can only be described with the word "Heaven". It's very convenient when you have such a friend living across the street.

This is the view of High Park and Lake Ontario from Emanuela's apartment.

Another sign of a good weekend is when you don't rush to go shopping, but instead just take some pictures. Every year, we like to look at the window displays in Holt Renfrew. These days, I regret that I haven't taken pictures of it every year. Usually, it's really something special. This year, they puzzled me a little. They tend to pick a topic and devote the display to it. I think I could identify this year's theme as "Swan-Goose-Penguin Lake".

Certain subjects - such as a snowman hiding behind the column without a hat on, or the penguins finding clown shoes puzzled me even more.

Also, I was surprised by this lady in evening dress, who suddenly got the idea to milk a cow. I even know that one of my blogging friends will appreciate this photo very much.

When I saw these marching band drummers who seem to be snowed in, I decided to stop being surprised at anything.

This year, I really liked the oversized deers at the Eaton Centre.

Also, this Christmas tree, decorated with Swarovski crystals, which rotates, catching the light directed at it, impressed me very much.

One of our secret winter joys is driving around the surrounding areas in order to enjoy an evening of Christmas lighting.

So, how did you spend your weekend?

The Story of a Little Boy

2011-12-08T11:10:00.000-05:00

It’s a tough situation when a little boy shows up in a house inhabited mostly by grownups. These grownups have no idea about the interests of a modern child around the age five. What books does he like? What cartoons does he watch? Does he even watch TV? What food does he eat? What kinds of things, in general, entertain kids today?

These questions become very relevant and personal when your friends call you a few minutes before the beginning of a party and tell you that they haven’t found a babysitter, and could they come over with their boy? Despite the fact that you’re absolutely not ready for it, you tell them that yes, of course they could. You’re not going to say “No; admission into my house is not for minors”. Or “Come over when you child grows up”.

You’re overcome by slight panic, because a good host needs to make it so that the guests wouldn’t want to leave, and indeed felt wonderful throughout the entire evening – no matter what.

And so he comes over. He’s so small and a little scared. There are so many adults, and everybody is looking at him. There must be something they want from him. What could possibly be expected from them? It wouldn’t do any good to cry. You can’t hide behind your mom’s legs. Especially because dad had said that he is relying on you, hoping that you can behave yourself.

Everybody settles down around the table. The boy is given an extra chair, and now he’s firmly positioned with his mom and dad on either side. It turns out that he doesn’t want to eat what is served on the table. All the prepared dishes are unfamiliar, and don’t look like anything his mom gives him. They smell strongly and incomprehensibly. The boy shuts his eyes. He responds to his dad’s questions on the subject of whether he would like this or that with a “No”.

Then you start to ask the child – “So, what do you want?” Then you have a brilliant idea – maybe pizza will do.

He knows all about pizza, and he likes it. The boy quickly starts to nod his head. The beginning of dinner is further postponed; you need to order pizza.

The other guests – whose children were left at home – say that of course they will wait for pizza. They’ll just entertain themselves with some good talks until it is delivered.

Finally, everybody is eating and drinking. The boy has received his pizza, and is now wiggling in his chair, because a child couldn’t possibly spend as much time at the table as the grownups.

His dad said “He’s very independent. He can keep himself amused.”

The parents take out the books and toys they brought from home. However, by this time, another object has become the center of the child’s interest – the cat.

The cat doesn’t want to be friends. He snorts and runs away under the bed. The boy crouches and starts talking to the cat. The cat looked at him with distrust, and isn’t won over by the conversation.

I enter the bathroom, switch on the light, and yelp in surprise. The boy is sitting on the floor by himself, forgotten by everybody. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He says “I’m thinking”.

I tell him to come join us for cake and tea.

To toss or not to toss?

2011-12-05T18:37:00.001-05:00

Twice a year - before Christmas and before Easter - I clean up my home, and conduct ritual disposals of old items. I have to admit that I don't part with them very easily. Depending on how I acquired them, I think about it, even if I don't use this thing, it carries a lot of memories. The most horrible moment is when I feel so sorry for that object that I put it back in the closet and fail to use it for another half a year. What can I do about this habit?

Do you part with objects easily?

The photos below are from stores - please don't think that it's all my stuff.

The best recipe for the time when you are throwing away your stuff:

And Hope For All The Best!

2011-11-30T22:46:00.000-05:00

I would like to wish you a happy first day of winter. Today, we have gotten the chance to witness our first bit of snow. It stayed only for a short time, but it reminded us that we are about to enter a few months of seeing it frequently.

Goodbye, hot summer days!

(The image isn't mine)

It's time to take out our winter sweaters.

(The image isn't mine)

It's time to decorate the house for Christmas.

And hope for all the best!

Santa Claus Parade in Toronto

2011-11-27T21:05:00.000-05:00

These photos are from the previous weekend. The truth is, this weekend was devoted to getting ready for a group exhibition, which is opening next week. Since it was rainy, and it was already dark at 4 o`clock, I wasn`t too upset. Especially since last week I had managed to capture an event that is anticipated not only by the children but also by the adults of Toronto.

I have to note that I have never seen as many clowns as there were this year. And they were unstoppable.

I also really liked all the kids dressed up as various characters. It was interesting to observe them because some played the roles, while other were just being themselves - and still other were so tired that they completely ignored the crowd.

We have really enjoyed ourselves, even though it was difficult to take these photos. I was squeezed from every side!

Five Simple Rules For Living With Cats

2011-11-23T15:03:00.001-05:00

If you have a cat, then you may know that the first rule of living harmoniously with him is to understand that he has a tail. If you forget about the tail even for a moment, it will definitely turn up under your feet. The cat will run off with a scream, and you will spend the rest of the day (if your cat has been with you for a while) or even week (if you have acquired the cat recently) feeling like a heartless criminal, unworthy of taking care of such a noble creature.

The second rule of living with a cat is to remember that he is everywhere. You might be moving your plants into different pots when the phone rings. The cat won’t miss that moment. If he spent the last little while just sitting there, watching you spill some soil onto the newspapers you’ve spread on the floor, he’s going to leap into action and start spreading it around as soon as you look the other way. That’s the best case scenario. Worst case – he’ll use the soil and the newspapers in the way he thinks fits them most. The owners of cats will understand the significance of the words “newspapers and soil”.

The third rule of living with a cat – finding out as soon as possible what products he loves as much as you do. Because, as soon as you walk in the direction of the fridge, the cat, who, just moments ago, had been sweetly asleep under a ray of sunlight, responds like a warhorse to the call of the trumpet. If you cut a little slice of your favourite cheese and brought it towards your taste buds, you will definitely hear a loud and demanding “MEAW” before you’re able to enjoy it. While I eat olives, the cat gazes at me from below with sorrowful eyes, continuously. His facial expression reads approximately “Are you eating? Are you enjoying yourself? Meanwhile, here I am, a hungry little cat. Nobody will even give me a taste of olives.”

If we have a cantaloupe in the house, it’s enough for me to even think of cutting it open. The cat – who was happily occupied with a fly before he read my mind - runs towards me and starts meawing, “Of course you should cut it open! What are you waiting for?”

The fourth rule of living with a cat – never be nervous. Not even a little bit.

Any unusual behaviour will provoke the cat into a mild frenzy. If you are in a hurry, and are trying to pick up your things, the cat will choose to run in the same rhythm as you, shuffling under your feet and nearly getting kicked at every step. Which nobody would willingly give him. Because there is a fifth rule of living with a cat – love him no matter what.

Recently

2011-11-20T19:19:00.000-05:00

The calendar is stubbornly indicating that it is November.

Every day is new, and it brings new duties, responsibilities, joys, and impressions. The memories of the past summer are reserved for long winter evenings. That’s where they belong. Except for a few short moments – for the duration of an elevator ride – when, all of a sudden, you can see tree branches before your eyes, swaying in the wind, bent down under the weight of peaches. Or, sometimes, it may seem like springtime rain is knocking on your window, and you expect the smell of fresh grass to follow.

Without even putting much effort into thinking about it you can feel an almost physical presence of the things that surrounded these warm moments.

The days have gotten much shorter, while the light is strange, and leaves too soon. It slips away from us. Hides behind the corner. In the morning, it doesn’t want to get up, and it pulls the blanket of grey clouds over itself. You can go out to High Park with your camera, as I did recently, and say firmly, several times, “I would like it to be sunny!”

The sun will appear briefly, when your walk is almost over, and you are standing in front of your door. You are about to touch the doorknob, in order to slip into the warm building. And then you feel a ray of sunlight touching your shoulder, telling you not to be upset.

It was a great summer!

Blue - Canadian Edition

2011-11-16T18:24:00.001-05:00

The colour blue makes a delicate, cool, and long-lasting sound. It`s always the colour of the sky, the sea, and blueberries. Not a single shade of blue can irritate me or put me ill at ease. Blue and I are friends, despite the fact that, in my paintings, I still haven`t found my perfect blue.

I have met blue for the first time when I was a child. My grandmother had a blue cup, made of fine china, the colour of which I later saw in a French cathedral.

What is your favourite shade of blue?

Books (and more) about Japan

2011-11-14T20:51:00.001-05:00

One of my new blogger friends, Mary, asked me for some reading recommendations. In this post, I have put some of the ones I have in English. The rest are in Russian, which is pretty useless for this purpose.

Also, to help this post avoid being dry, in the end, you`ll see something more.

Noriko

2011-11-11T22:25:00.000-05:00

Japan has come into my life when I was a teenager. One of my good friends, whom I describe in this post, helped me discover it. It felt like I was a sea explorer, standing on the deck of a ship which has just floated out of a thick fog, only to be faced with a sight so extraordinarily beautiful – a land of poems, prints, classical theatre, the culture of admiring sakura blossoms, netzke, origami, architecture, kimono, unique literature, history, and mythology. Ever since that time, Japan has never left my heart. Whenever it felt like I know something about Japan, a multitude of new information would bring me out of that certainty. Although I often wished that I could say – many years later, having read so many books – that I know something about Japan.

I have been very lucky to meet Noriko in Toronto. I found that she is able to express many aspects of Japanese culture that are impossible to put in words. Noriko is the kind of person you’d always want to be around – and watch her performances. As a former ballerina and current instructor, she doesn’t just create choreography, she comes up with elaborate pantomime.

You can also admire her sculptures and paintings. Although the most important thing to me is just enjoying her company. At those moments, I am visited by the feeling that the world can be quite harmonious – at least while you’re spending time with Noriko.

These photos from Noriko’s performance were made with the generous permission of the owner of the house and fitness instructor - Judith Thompson

Golden November

2011-11-06T22:05:00.000-05:00

This weekend had given us the remaining gifts of a golden autumn.

It was quite an eventful weekend. I got to see some friends, enjoy some nature, and also celebrate the birthday of my husband and my daughter (yes, they were both born on November 5th).

Since we had the chance to drive down countryside, here are some pictures:

I have decided that I don`t have enough friends from the countryside, because such beauty can only be enjoyed outside of the big city. Any volunteers?

I realized that there aren't enough pictures of food in my blog. So, here's today's breakfast:

And today's dinner:

When the sun visits the people who are getting ready for winter, it seems like nothing could be better than turning your face towards it, and spending time with the people you love.

Marc Chagall: Joy in the Middle of Chaos

2011-11-04T13:35:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I have gotten the chance to see one of the paintings by Marc Chagall, which had captured my imagination a long time ago.

If you were, hypothetically, unable to see this work, here's how it coudld be described verbally, in a non-academic style:

The main idea of this painting is the unity between three figures – a man, a woman, and an angel, who occupy the space at the center of the canvas. The man is perched on the woman’s shoulders. He is holding a glass of red wine in one hand, while covering one of the woman’s eyes with the other. The expression on his face is cheerful, nearly overjoyed.

The woman looks like a bride in a long white décolleté dress. She is holding a fan, and there is a white glove on one of her hands. Her face, undoubtedly, expresses happiness. She doesn’t seem to have anything against supporting this man on her shoulders.

The composition is completed by the figure of an angel, who doesn’t seem to express anything unusual. You could interpret this angel as a compositional trick, to add to the sense of balance. I think he plays a symbolic role. Without him, the whole scene would lose its meaning.

Or, rather, it would acquire a different mood – perhaps a less emotional, more comedic one.

In real life, Marc Chagall married Bella Rosenfeld, despite all the circumstances that did not favour their relationship – historical and financial ones. He painted this picture. When you see it in front of you, it really doesn’t want to release you. Yes, apparently, even in the middle of a horrifying revolution, it is possible to create enchanting paintings that evoke a sense of happiness. The visual poetry in the works by Marc Chagall is full of hidden meanings – this is why his art is unique to me.

At the moment, there is an exhibition taking place at the AGO – Marc Chagall and the Russian Avant-Garde.

The Latest from High Park

2011-11-01T22:18:00.000-04:00

The weather was changeable today. Since sunshine appeared now and then - and we're about to have a period of rain, according to the forecast - it was impossible not to get out for a half an hour to enjoy nature in High Park.

In the following photo, you will see what a special atmosphere there was today - there was a certain gauze in the air.

Since we can always encounter dogs in High Park, sometimes we find a character who really wants to pose:

It's not only dogs who are eager to model for my blog. Squirrels too.

Also, spiders, who are recovering from their Halloween celebration:

Then, more squirrels - but that nut isn't mine.

No matter how much enjoyment I can find, I realize now that, if I run to High Park at every sign of sunshine, instead of staying home to paint, this is what will happen around Christmastime:

Halloween in High Park

2011-10-30T22:47:00.000-04:00

This Monday, you will be able to find various extraordinary characters and creatures walking the streets of the High Park community. There will be many of them. They will be of different ages and sizes. There will be much laughter and shrieking. Of course, from every corner, you’ll be able to hear the classic “Trick or treat.”

We’re hoping to go out for a walk and take a little part in this event. Every year, we meet our neighbours and their kids, who, over the years, have passed through various costume phases, from ladybugs, to Harry Potter characters, to pirates. These days, there is a considerable increase in the number of vampires.

The year before our daughter had passed from the age of the participant to the age of the observer, she got to go trick-or-treating as a Frenchman, and, another time, as a shepherdess.

The shepherdess has pink cheeks, a straw hat, a staff, and a long, wide skirt which I had sewn from an old curtain. When people asked “Where is your sheep?” she would take out a small stuffed sheep from her pocket.

The Frenchman wore a beret, a striped sweater, and a red scarf, while carrying a baguette. By the end of the evening, the baguette was considerably smaller.

For some kids, this holiday is a matter of business. They go out with a pillowcase, which they take effort to fill up by the end of the evening. These kids dart from house to house with one goal only – to gather as many treats as possible.

It’s always interesting to see the kids who appear small enough to be taking part in trick or treating for the first time. Last year, I saw this one little tiger. The cheerleaders – mom, dad, and grandma – took so long to convince him to go up to the door and say “Trick or treat”. Finally, he gathered up the courage, and walked on, with his tail dragging behind him, climbed the steps, uttered the magic words, and received the candy.

A magical transformation occurred at that moment. The tiger ran towards the next door as fast as he could.

And what about women?

2011-10-27T21:51:00.000-04:00

Since my blogger friend, Pet, asked me this question, I decided not to put it off. At first, I thought I would make a series called "The Woman in the Window".

Then I thought of making a post entitled "Women at Work". Then I just wanted to post a few pictures of ladies.

Since we haven't had any sunshine for a whole week, at the end of this post, I decided to post some photos of women at work in a tropical country.

I ended up with a bit of fusion, which I present to you to set the tone for the weekend.

Men on Duty

2011-10-26T23:53:00.000-04:00

This is Patrick from Saint Martin. I would like to introduce him as well as some other wonderful men I have met in different cities - Moscow, Havana, Paris, and Toronto. These are the places where they live and work.

Sunshine in the Fall

2011-10-24T19:40:00.000-04:00

If you visit Webster's Falls Conservation Area at a time when the sun is shining, you should definitely choose a trail to take a long walk, waving your arms in the air, and reciting poetry. It would be better if it happened in the company of friends who know poems in different languages. This makes things even more fun. Whether it's the objective truth or just my imagination, the rhythm of fall can be felt in the rhythm of poetry.

The only thing I wouldn't suggest is eating sandwiches with your feet hanging into a vast crevice. Just looking at this photo makes my hands sweat:

From this point of view, you can find the end of the trail in the top lefthand section of the photo:

The following two photos display the view that can be seen from this plateau:

Nothing like some tea at the end of a walk:

Friday Fishing

2011-10-21T20:46:00.000-04:00

Of all the paintings that have been stolen from museums or private collections, the one I'm most upset about is Jean-Baptiste Oudry's masterful oil painting "La Vie Calme avec le Canard Blanc", otherwise known as "The White Duck".

You can find a very good reproduction of it in the book Color and Culture by John Gage. You can also learn more about this stolen masterpiece here.

Still life as a genre is one of the most interesting subjects for study and exploration. Sometimes you need to gather some background information dealing with the Bible and traditional symbolism just to understand what's going on in a painting.

Today, I would like to share some takes on the subject of some very dead fish from a Portuguese market. In my opinion, because these photos were taken indoors under some strange lighting, the fish have acquired distinctly spooky personalities. What do you think?

It is our art that has an opportunity to leave a footprint in the sand. They don't wrap fish in our work.
Hugh Newell Jacobsen

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

2011-10-19T11:20:00.000-04:00

I feel a sense of unease whenever a young author wins a prestigious award. How often are we going to hear the name of this author after this event? I get the feeling that such people are set up to astound the world once and then dissolve into the air.

After reading The Solitude of Prime Numbers by Paolo Giordano, I realized that there are exceptions to these rules. I will anticipate his next book with impatience.

This story is dedicated to two people. Strange people, who are lonely not only in a crowd of people, but also in their own minds. As Mark Twain said, “The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.”

The two main characters are a girl suffering from anorexia and a guy who happens to be a math genius. This is the story of their lives and their meetings.

“Do you like your new school" Alice asked, for the sake of saying something.

"Yes"

"They say you're a genius"

Mattia sucked in his cheeks and bit into them till he felt the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

"Do you really like studying?'

Mattia nodded.

"Why?"

"It's the only thing I know how to do, "he said shortly. He wanted to tell her that he liked studying because you can do it alone, because all the things you study are already dead, cold, and chewed over. He wanted to tell her that the pages of the school books were all the same temperature, that they left you time to choose, that they never hurt you and you couldn't hurt them either. But he said nothing.

With this book, you get the sense that you are reading it from within. For me, this is usually the case with books like Madame Bovary or Anna Karenina. It’s not that you sympathize with the people on the pages; you are just become both of them for a short period of time.

A few of my photos.

The Duchess of Alba and Sunnyside Avenue

2011-10-15T21:35:00.000-04:00

What business do I have thinking about the Duchess of Alba’s recent marriage, at a time when I am preparing for my next exhibition; at a time when my father is experiencing serious health problems, and when I myself have to go through regular sessions of acupuncture, massage, and physiotherapy due to overworking my shoulders, and finally, at a time when I still have to expand my energy on finding a new place to live? Not to mention, there are the everyday chores. What exactly concerns me about her diamonds and pearls while I’m cooking my carrot soup?

My friends are to blame for this, one of whom is only a few years younger than the Duchess herself. These friends allowed themselves to call her...well, let’s draw the veil of modesty over what they actually said. Where is female solidarity and other necessary attributes of feminism? How come Georgia O’Keefe and her young potter were adorable, and the Duchess and her civil servant are embarrassing?

Yes, perhaps the Duchess isn’t exactly young, but she didn’t rob the cradle. And, prior to her marriage, she made her will public, so that the relatives wouldn’t get up in arms about the billion dollar fortune ending up in the hands of Alfonso.

Six children, and only a third marriage. If I were in her place, I really would have picked someone younger.

I suspect that our wishes diminish as they come true, like in Balzac’s novel, The Magic Skin. There might be less of them, or perhaps they just not as significant. If the Duchess - even despite the pressure from Spain’s monarch, King Juan Carlon, not to remarry – still decided to take this young man’s hand in marriage, then I will cast some rose petals into the air in her honour.

And then, we must not forget how important it is to have a companion in life, regardless of one’s age. To have a shoulder to cry on; to have someone who won’t mind the false teeth on the bedside table. Not a friend, not a relative, not a grandchild, but a soul mate, as it were, with whom to dance to the slow songs, or just relax in silence.

Having seen the Duchess go for it at her wedding, I wonder – what excuse could you have to idly sit around?

Here are a few photos that capture my week. I hope you are having a wonderful weekend.

Cranberry Fields Forever

2011-10-11T15:50:00.000-04:00

This long weekend was a real Thanksgiving present to Ontarians. Sunshine, sunshine, and more sunshine spoiled us for all three days.

It was impossible to stay home even for one minute. Everybody must have realized this, and set off in different directions.

We decided to go north, where we visited a cranberry farm. I'd say I wasn't prepared to see such an unusual place. The whole time I spent there, it felt like I was in a different world, a magical place separated from the rest of reality by a row of colourful trees.

What is necessary to an artist who lives in a world of colours? More colours - of course. There should be so much of it that you can feel it on your skin and even breathe colour.

There were berries scattered on the surface of the water and berries that are still submerged in it, where they glimmer like precious rubies.

I'd like to dedicate a special mention to the turtles that swim among the berries, and also the little frogs you can find hopping about.

Yes, we drank the cider, and also tried some wine. It was absolutely enchanting.

Three

2011-10-07T18:40:00.000-04:00

The number three is a magic number - there is no doubt about it. It's no coincidence that so many authors used it in the titles of their works - Dumas's The Three Musketeers, Three Men In a Boat by Jerome K Jerome, Three Sisters by Chehov, and Bertold Brecht's The Threepenny Opera.

And, of course, the genie will only grant you three wishes.

If you have any other ideas about where to find the number three, feel free to leave it in the comments.

Meanwhile, I have a special reason for thinking of the number three today. My blogger friend Sarah Elizabeth has given birth to a daughter - you can find both of them here.

I would like to celebrate this event with this post and the photos in it. Sarah-Elizabeth - this is for you, your family, and your little one!

Danger Lurks in High Park

2011-10-05T18:05:00.000-04:00

Recently, on one of my walks in the park with my husband and the camera, I noticed a big, beautiful bird that I decided to observe. What unfolded can be seen below.

No animals were harmed during the photoshoot.

Why I Adore the Night

2011-10-03T17:02:00.000-04:00

I’ve decided to take part in the “Why I adore the night” challenge, which has been started by Hila in her blog - le project d'amour

If you were to disregard the experiences of another person, as well as the traditional, historical and literary aspects of interpreting the night, my version would resemble the painting “The Moonlit Night Over the Dnieper” by Kuinji. You can take a long walk on such a peaceful, warm night, listening to the sounds that surround you, approaching and drifting away. In the night, movement seems more serene, and each insignificant sound becomes bigger and impossible to ignore.

If you travel down the narrow way towards the river and lie on your stomach on the wooden pier, you can put your hand into the water, which has been warmed by the sun during the day, feeling it travel in endless motion towards the places you would like to explore.

Turning on your back, you will see the moon, clouds, and pairs of white birds flying in the dark.

Be sure to hurry up, because there are several more things that need to be tried on a warm night.

You need to find a wide, level field of flowers, and spin around with your eyes open and your arms outstretched. Once you run out of energy, feel free to fall down into the grass and the flowers, but try not to fall asleep. It would be nice if there was a gentle breeze blowing at that moment. It would help cool you down.

Try not to laugh too loudly, so as not to attract Rembrandt’s Night Watch.

After all of that, you should definitely find a swing; any swing will do. You should climb on it no matter what, and swing - either high or low, depending on your mood. You can even just sit there. The swing might be a little creaky. This would prevent you from getting carried away, as in the painting by Jean-Honoré Fragonard, and you won’t have to awaken unsuspecting neighbours.

If you wish – and if you’re not too far away from the water – you can greet the morning like Monet did while painting his “The Seine at Giverny”. All the silvery-pink shades of the earliest rays of the sun reflecting on the water – it’s real poetry of colour. It`s nearly impossible to capture.

I love the night. The simplest actions, which wouldn`t be that much fun during daylight, can offer a whole spectrum of enjoyment when it`s night.

I`d like to end with a few words of warning. Don`t send letters composed during the night, and don`t try my earlier suggestions if you suspect that there might be vampires lurking nearby.

Her name was Lola

2011-09-30T14:39:00.000-04:00

A little while ago, I made a post about the green dog, and it made me recall another story, which I would like to dedicate to my blogger friend, who loves dogs - Veronique aka French Girl in Seattle

This took place many years ago in Russia. In those days, going abroad was an unbelievable event, significant not only to the traveler, but also to everyone that person was remotely familiar with. It wasn’t even a matter of the endless bureaucratic formalities and exhausting interviews – it was simply a matter of how maladapted a Soviet citizen was to live on the other side of the fence. The mentality wasn’t just “different” – it was the mentality of a person who lived in a constant state of fear. If you took one wrong step during your trip abroad, there was a definite possibility of never getting to go anywhere again.

One of our friends – a translator - go the chance to work in a Russian embassy for a whole six months. Six months in Paris!!! There was a saying among Russian women at the time – “See Paris, and you’re ready to die”.

The translator had two sources of difficulty in her life – a nine-year-old son, and a terrier named Lola. The son was sent off to his father’s parents, and the dog was given to our mutual artist friend. The artist was about fourty at the time. He wasn’t particularly well-known or creative; just a solid professional, who could deliver a good product. Of course, he enjoyed drinking – he wasn’t an alcoholic, but, at the time, an artist would only give up drinking due to a health condition.

The artist lived in a large attic, under the roof of an old house. That’s where he had his studio.

The translator busied herself with travel preparations, and then, at the last minute, she remembered to give the artist a call and say “I’d like to warn you. Lola can’t stand the smell of alcohol.”

The artist later told me that he sensed a bad feeling riding in his stomach. And for a good reason. Tension arose in his home as soon as the dog arrived. Whenever the artist would open the bottle just a tiny bit, Lola would start to growl. If he took a sip, she would start to bark. She also chewed a hole through the artist’s pillowcase, and ate his only good belt.

The artist started to drink outside of his home, and, whenever he returned, he would keep his mouth shut. That was his new tactic.

One summer evening, the artist came home after his regular dose of alcohol, smoked a cigarette, and fell asleep on the couch. The cigarette butt, which he tried to throw into a tin can, didn’t quite reach its destination and, instead, fell down next to the curtain. The summer breeze tended to the tiny flame, and the curtain caught on fire.

The next time I visited this artist, I saw a burnt window frame with a large black spot underneath it.
The artist – having taken out a bottle of champagne he always prepared for my visits – told me, “Lola saved my life. Now I don’t drink at all.”

When disaster stroke, Lola did not lose her bearings. She started to bite the artist’s ear to awaken him. Can you image what would have happened, with all the flammable paints that littered the attic?

The translator never returned from Paris – not for her son, not for the dog. She stayed there, and got married – not once, but several times.

I can't find any photos of terriers, so, here are some photos of other dogs I have seen in the last little while:

The Season of Butterflies

2011-09-28T22:28:00.000-04:00

This year, the transition from summer to fall is happening gradually, smoothly, and agreeably. It’s warm, and, sometimes, there are some slight, unbothersome showers. You find some trees specked with red-yellow leaves. The season of butterflies is in full swing in High Park. I understand that, each leaf that detaches from the tree and tumbles slowly through the air speaks of the transitory nature of life.

For me, fall usually seems like yet another wonderful aspect of countries where there are four seasons. In Canada, the fall has a specific flavor – that of plum pudding and hot apple cider. Having typed this, I immediately feel that I would like some of those.

By the way, when there is a multitude of butterflies around, you can really hear their wings fluttering as they take their peculiar trajectories around the blossoming bush.

Chasing the White Rabbit

2011-09-26T13:26:00.000-04:00

I associate the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland with time. It seems like you’ve done all your tasks, and almost caught up the time by its tail, but soon it turns out that this is only an illusion, and there are as many things to do ahead of you as there were before.

As I’m trying not to miss the opportunity to show you as many moments from our live in Toronto as I can, I’d like to share something that took place not last weekend, but the one before that.

It was the time when our community simultaneously held a Polish and a Ukrainian street festival. (On different streets, thankfully.)

These cultural festivals are very busy, noisy, and colorful. It’s particularly fun to watch the kids run wild. These are the people who experience joy and pain without any reservations.

There is an annual parade at the Ukrainian cultural festival:

And now, let's make our way towards the Polish Festival:

Some people were making friends with the soldiers, while others were making friends with a bottle of beer:

All ages were eager to dance:

A few young ladies were lost in their imaginary worlds...

...while somebody else was really lost:

This shall be our next cultural destination:

I hope you will have a great week!

2011 Toronto International Film Festival - Guest Post by Dasha Kotova

2011-09-23T13:50:00.000-04:00

The middle of September is a time that’s both exciting and stressful for Toronto film lovers. When the Toronto International Film Festival rolls around, it’s time to brace yourself for tough decisions, long lineups, pushing and shoving, and general crowdedness and confusion in order to get to the films that have captured your interest. Last week, I spent a significant portion of time doing just that. And my schedule was hardly anything compared to some other film reviewer that I know, for whom staying up till 3am during TIFF and then waking up a couple of hours later constitutes business as usual.

Whenever I look up TIFF programs, my brain threatens to explode, because there is so much stuff going on all at the same time. How am I to choose? What’s especially frustrating is the presence of all the films from various countries that might be difficult to find later on. Makes me wish the festival would go on for a more extended period of time, with all the same films, instead of packing it all into a frenzied ten days.

I’ve had a chance to see six films at TIFF this season – Drive, House of Tolerance, Miss Bala, Your Sister’s Sister, Wuthering Heights, and Burning Man. You can find my full reviews at The Toronto Film Scene if you click on the titles. Below are just a few of my overall impressions.

I’m not going to play the “which one did you enjoy the most” game, but I’d just like to say that Drive and Wuthering Heights both really blew my mind because they were both such complete surprises for me. Drive isn’t the sort of genre I usually go for, so, it caught me off guard when I started to get into it so much. “Genre” is probably the wrong word - this film blends a variety of different genres very smoothly. You don’t get the “I’m a film nerd, and these are the references to all my favourite movies” vibe from it (I wish I could say the same for Quentin Tarantino, haha). The story really speaks for itself, and, at the same time, you can see that Nicolas Winding Refn uses such eclectic sources of inspiration.

As for Wuthering Heights, I didn’t know it would be so different. I do enjoy your regular “period dramas”; there’s just a certain feel that most of them have in common, and I don’t think that suits Wuthering Heights at all. Well, if you agree, you’ll be pleased to hear that Andrea Arnold’s adaptation has a completely unique and haunting atmosphere, which, to me, seemed like a better interpretation of such a strange and spooky novel. It’s not at all about the costumes, but rather about the emotion.

I found that House of Tolerance is another film that transcends the trappings of a “historical” setting. It takes quite a serious look at the life of a high-end 19th century Parisian brothel, and goes for the true-to-life feel. Miss Bala also creates a narrative that tries to come across as realistic as possible – this film being about the present-day terror of the drug war in Mexico.

Of all the films I’ve seen at TIFF this year, Your Sister’s Sister was the lightest one – it’s just a warm-hearted and silly indie relationship film that succeeds on the strength of the actors’ performance (them being Emily Blunt, Rosemarie DeWitt, and Mark Duplass). While the other movies I caught really took a bite out of me as far as their emotional gravity, I could walk out of this one feeling somewhat carefree.

Burning Man is also comedic, but very darkly so, seeing as it deals with grief and trauma, exploring those subjects by throwing humour at you when you least expect it. You might feel kind of odd for laughing during it, but then you might also recall the way reckless humour helps when difficult situations do arise in real life.

After this whole intensity of TIFF was over, I was happy to take things easy for a few days, and process what I had seen. I don’t get how some of my friends are perfectly content to watch fifteen films during the festival if they can – for me, six was plenty to think over, and I find myself still wanting to walk about them a week later.

How I got rid of my ferocious editor on the journey of blogging

2011-09-20T18:40:00.000-04:00

(The above picture is neither of me, nor of my family, nor was it even taken by me.)

When I started my blog a year ago, I took some time to think things over, and then I got rid of my ferocious editor. He put up a fight, and then he burst in tears. He bargained and pleaded. He promised that, if I let him stay, he would make me a great blogger – carefree and popular. He wanted to prove to me that he would always act in my best interest. He argued that, with him, I would make less mistakes, and create so many interesting posts that everybody will want to read them, and think “How does she do it? Her well of creativity must be bottomless.”
My ferocious editor insisted that I would always have positive self-image. No, I did not fall for this trap. I opened up an imaginary door and told my editor to try not to cross paths with me in the future.

I did not set any particular goals when I got started on blogging. As a person who spends the majority of her day by herself in front of the easel, my main objective was to meet interesting, creative people without having to leave the house. Because blogging is primarily about creativity.

Let me just tell you right away that I definitely got my wish. I love it your visits, my dear readers, and have lots of fun getting to know you. It’s also very enjoyable to visit your blogs and to make my own new posts. I know that this may come across as cheesy, but my world has expanded because of you.

Thank you, Tim and Sarah Elizabeth, for picking me to participate in Tripbase’s “My 7 Links” project. Here’s a retrospective of my posts, according to the following themes:

-Your most beautiful post
– Your most popular post
– Your most controversial post
– Your most helpful post
– A post whose success surprised you
– A post you feel didn’t get the attention it deserved
– The post that you are most proud of

Your most beautiful post – The Royal Botanical Gardens

Flowers are one of the absolute and fragile joys of this life. To gaze at them, decorate your home with them, or to take photos of them makes for enjoyable moments that pass by too quickly.

Your most popular post - Blogging for Fame and Fortune

I suspect that certain readers really thought that the secret to achieving fame and forture through blogging will be revealed in this post. But instead, what they found was a small dose of sarcasm, and a beautiful ginger cat.

Your most controversial post - A risky post

I was so anxious about publishing it. I expected that, the next time I come out of the house, I will be greeted by a crowd of non-virtual older ladies with real umbrellas and no less real arguments. Everything seems to have turned out well.

Your most helpful post - Oh, those sizes!

Without a doubt, this post can lift up your mood. It contains some sweet treats and a true story on the subject of inner and outer beauty.

A post whose success surprised you - Today is a rainy day

Really, a post about a rainy day can be so enjoyable?

A post you feel didn’t get the attention it deserved - Early Morning in High Park

This is where you shouldn’t be surprised. I always feel that High Park should interest one and all, everywhere around the world. Does that make me an addict?

The post that you are most proud of - The Blue Mountain

There is nothing extraordinary about this post, except for the fact that I spent several hours in freezing weather, all the while enjoying myself tremendously, and I even managed to take lots of photos. That day, I was initiated into a real Canadian.

And now, I will nominate 5 more bloggers to share their 7 posts
French Girl in Seattle
HATTATT
Pencil and Box
Tinajo at home
The Vegetable Assassin

It would be interesting to know their thoughts on the subject of their own creations, wouldn’t it?

Inspired by David Lynch

2011-09-18T13:59:00.000-04:00

Viewer discretion is strongly advised. This post includes photographs of dissected cheese.

A Simple Wish

2011-09-15T14:01:00.000-04:00

Underneath my windows is the road that schoolkids walk down to get to the nearest elementary school. Same way as, in Venice, there is a Bridge of Sighs, I call this road the Road of Crying. Sometimes, without intending to, I witness many dramatic scenarios that happen to these young people - particularly the first graders. However, the story that happened yesterday was particularly cute, and I would like to share it with you.

Two eight-year-old boys were walking by the window, speaking Russian. Their dialogue was as follows -

Boy #1: "You see, I would just like to be happy."
- Pause -
Boy #2: "Me too."

I wonder what the dramatic pause was all about.

I'm definitely one of the people with the same wish. What about you?

These photos of peach trees are from the last weekend, when we visited an organic peach garden. I hope you will have a great weekend!

For Dolly

2011-09-13T14:10:00.000-04:00

Dear Dolly,
While you are in college he is doing this.

Journey to Niagara Falls

2011-09-12T12:46:00.000-04:00

I was surprised to realize that, living in Ontario and all, I haven’t told you anything about the Niagara Falls yet.

The area around Niagara is a unique place, known for its vineyards, fruit orchards, and incredible organic vegetables. This time, we came for peaches and tomatoes. Having decided not to waste the opportunity, and take another look at the waterfall, we drove up to it right at the moment when you could see several rainbows all at once.

It’s usually like this with the Niagara Falls. It tends to want to leave you a gift to remember the day. This gift could be an especially impenetrable fog. So thick was this fog that you could only hear the hypnotizing sound of the descending water.

In the winter, it’s the trees that surround the place. Their frost-encrusted branches seem to ring louder than the waterfall itself as they touch one another.

Sometimes, you might capture a particularly clear image. No wind, no clouds to spoil the composition.

I have a favourite place in this area. It’s the spot where the water is just about to plunge, and its surface reminds me of molten glass. Whenever I stand there, looking at that spot, the water changes colour.

The Niagara Falls is always full of visitors, regardless of the weather or the season. It’s not easy to reach the metal banisters in order to take a good photo. You just about have to fight for the opportunity.

If you travel upwards along the stream, the river becomes direct, agreeable, without any signs of the magnificent masses of water, which can be found cascading only a short distance away.

Along the river, there are many parks, where you could stop by to take a break, have a snack, and think your thoughts. In those moments, you will likely continue thinking of the waterfall nearby – the Niagara Falls, which never ceases to astound.

In the recent times, I have received several awards from my wonderful blogging friends. I would like to thank you all greatly. You encourage me to go on regardless of the circumstances that keep me busy.

The Details of Everyday Life (Toronto edition)

2011-09-07T22:33:00.000-04:00

If you live by the Louvre or the Colosseum, it must be easy to take a beautiful photo at any given moment. But even if I lived near some magnificent mountains or beautiful old buildings, I would definitely try to capture the joy in the little details of everyday life.

Such moments and objects can pass by pretty quickly if you don't pay attention. Each of them can be interesting on their own because of their transitory nature. I suggest dreaming now - why not? Whenever I see that yellow dog, I say, "Hello, yellow dog!"

I hope you enjoy my selection of details from the moments of my everyday life.

Say Mi-Yelk!

2011-09-05T15:01:00.000-04:00

The fact of the matter is – if I had enough money (as you’re well aware, artists are known for always being in need of cash), I would have cleared out this entire store; I would have bought every single thing without exception. But what were some of the things that captured my heart especially?

The first thing that comes to my attention is the clarity of the lines in all these objects, regardless of whether they were created in Japan or in Scandinavian countries. There are no excesses in these lines. They are absolutely perfect.

The next thing that fascinated me was the sense of humour exhibited by these designers – whether we’re speaking of the bottle opener that is shaped like birds of prey, or the clothes hanger shaped as the same type of bird, with the wings outstretched. Or we could take a look at a flower vase that depicts a family – a mother, a father, and their child. Picture some flowers in the place for their heads, and it’ll put a smile on your face.

An assortment of knives for cheeses. How did I manage to survive without it, I really don’t know. The carefully polished wooden handles are so soft to gaze upon.

Various spoons, the function of which is not entirely clear to me, but seeing as each has its own intricate shape, I would imagine that each also has a designated purpose. It is a mystery to be solved.

This shoe spoon really looks like a minimalist sculpture.

The shadows cast by these owls and brooms are as wonderful as the handmade originals. The same can be said for this set of kitchen brushes.

I know what will be the next item in my collection of cutting boards – this marvel was handmade in Japan out of a walnut tree.

In this store, you will find joy not only in shopping for these wonderful things, but also in chatting with the staff. If you ask a question, be prepared – they will ambush you with a massive amount of fascinating details on the subject of the item at hand. This is known as being passionate for what you do, isn’t it?

The address of the store is -
2959 Dundas Street West Toronto On M6P 1Z2

info@mjolk.ca

The Green Dog

2011-09-01T18:48:00.000-04:00

When I first saw the works by Zhoy Chunya, I immediately remembered one particular story.
Perhaps this is a legend that appeared in the Soviet Union at the time of the strict censorship in all printed materials of the nation. Very often, it was the editor who carried out the role of the censor. And, very often, it was the editor’s personal attitude towards the author that determined whether the book would and the illustrations to it would be approved. In one of the most prominent Soviet publishing companies, there was an editor that everybody was afraid of. There was also an illustrator, who often had to submit his projects to her. This illustrator would always draw a green dog; he would put one in each work, regardless of the subject of the book he was illustrating. Whenever the editor would find yet another green dog on the illustration, she would become irate. They would start arguing over it, and the arguments would continue for extended periods of time. Finally, each time, the illustrator would give in, and, reluctantly, he would remove the green dog from the project. This routine went on many times.

When this illustrator was asked why he keeps on drawing the green dog, he explained that it was his scheme. The editor would become so exhausted by his insistence to include the dog that she would have no strength left to continue the discussion in order to find anything anti-government in the illustrations.

The green dog is the symbol of what shouldn’t be.

Today, I would like to offer you a series of photos, which are united by the subject of “the person and the dog”. There are no green dogs present among them, but each dog has a specific personality and mood.

The Summer Is Not Over Yet

2011-08-29T13:39:00.000-04:00

For me, the summer lasts as long as there is nice warm weather outside. Right now, I tend to glance at the calendar now and again, in order to make sure I don’t miss the deadline for a certain exhibition. If there are no deadlines to keep track of, then there’s no reason to even know today’s date. In a similar fashion, I have no interest in people’s age. Perhaps this is because I’ve met people in their 80s who wouldn’t climb trees only due to their physical inability to do so, and who wouldn’t toboggan down every snowy slope they encountered simply because they didn’t wish to frighten everybody around. The most important thing is to be young in your spirit, isn’t it?

And now, a few things about my weekend.

We Canadians don’t necessarily need to wait until Halloween to run into a pirate at a hardware store – or to see Batman rushing to complete a mission as we roll down the street to visit a friend’s house.

On Saturday morning, the pond in High Park was covered in a fog. You could stand with your back to the sun, and feel the wind carrying strands of the veil that made the fog. It was an incredible feeling.

We also have met a dog named - Ziggy.

We also found an interesting store, and made friends with its owner. This store is really amazing, and deserves its own post. The handmade designer objects that are displayed there are from Japan and Scandinavian countries.

The husband of my friend Natasha is really into fishing. This means that, from time to time, we have the opportunity to taste a freshly caught salmon. This time, the fish was enormous. Another reason why it’s wonderful to visit Natasha’s home is because she creates these unbelievable collectable dolls (which will also appear in a separate post). I’m so proud of my friends.

Other things that made the weekend so much fun was Busker Fest, visiting a new restaurant, and going to Cirque Du Soleil. The summer continues!

Steve Martin the Author, and Objects of Beauty around High Park

2011-08-25T11:21:00.000-04:00

Eric Fischl - "Steve Martin"

I’ve been meaning to get to Steve Martin's novel An Object of Beauty for a long time. Now that I have finally read it, I don’t regret a single moment that I spent on it.
I say this for several reasons. The first – this is the story of an ambitious young woman without a privileged background or connections, but it bears no resemblance to the typical Cinderella story. I wouldn’t recommend this book if you just want to read about the triumph of ambitious young women. There is certainly an element of hope in the story; it just isn’t as straight-forward.

The second reason why I would recommend this book to anyone who’s interested in art is that it describes quite an extensive period of time, which includes the dramatic moment in 2008 when the bubble burst.

And the third reason consists in those moments which I feel contain Steve’s personal reflections on the subject of art.

"How," said Lacey, "can artist have no effect on you for years and then one day it has an effect on you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Warhol. I'm a proud owner, you know. A small flower picture, but still..."

"Darling, I call that the perverse effect. Those things that you hate for so long are insidiously working on you, until one day you can't resist them anymore. They turn into favorites. It just takes a while to sort out the complications in them. Those artworks that come all ready to love empty out pretty quickly. It's why outsiders hate art we love ; they haven't spent time with it. You and I see things again and again ahether we want to or not. we see them in galleries, we see them in homes, we see them in the art magazines, they come up at auction. Outsiders see it once, or hear about it after it's been reduced to an insult: 'It's a bunch of squiggles that my kid could do.' I would like to see a kid who could paint a Jackson Pollock. In a half second, any pro could tell the difference. People want to think Pollock's not struggling, that he's kidding. He's not kidding/ You want to know how I think art should be taught to children? Take them to a museum and say, " this is art, you can't do it."

I only found one scene kind of funny, which could lead you the believe that, the moment that the gallery owner closes the door behind his back, the attractive gallery manager's boyfriend shows up, and they set off to make love on the table in the boss's office, while gazing at a masterpiece by a famous painter. Tee-hee.

The one thing that sort of stood in the way of my enjoying this book in a carefree way is the presence of the author. Since the narrative flows from the first person perspective, I couldn’t help hearing the voice and intonations of Steve Martin, which I know so well from various films.

And now, a few flowers from High Park to brighten your day:

How We Saved a Frog

2011-08-22T10:51:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, when it just rained, and you go to take a walk in High Park, you can see a multitude of frogs climbing out onto the sidewalk, for reasons I cannot fathom. They prevent the human visitors from stepping as carelessly as they normally would, and keep nearly getting under the wheels of bicycles. Some of them are tiny, while others are more imposing.

One of these frogs had decided to expand its horizons and learn more about the world, and so he decided to go beyond the boundaries of the pond and its immediate surroundings. He made it out onto the road. We really didn't want to think that the life of this potential prince might end under the wheels of a car, and we decided to organize a rescue.

The people passing by would stop for a moment to give us advice on how to capture the frog, and where to move him. It wasn't that easy to catch this creature. He kept jumping this way and that, fearing for his life; not realizing that saving it was exactly our objective. Having utilized the suggestions of all the passers-by, we finally caught the frog and carried him away from the road. Overall, it was quite fun.
The last time something similar happened (except involving a cat instead of a frog), it was a few years ago, and you can read up on it here.

Red Colour in Toronto

2011-08-19T11:43:00.000-04:00

I have never seen so many red walls, rooms, and doors than at this point in my life, when I am hunting for a house. At these moments, I recall the episode from Sex and the City when Mr. Big, having left his wife, painted his walls red. It was the symbol of transitioning from a beige life to something new and exciting. Please don't think that I am against red walls - maybe someday I will change my preferences for white Scandinavian style, and then I might also paint my walls that way.

Could anybody confess to having red walls - sometime in the past, or currently?

I wish you all a great weekend.

Lucian Freud - the Gurdian of the Idiosyncratic

2011-08-16T13:02:00.000-04:00

I often think about the simplicity of certain images. What could be simpler and even more cliched than a girl with a cat? I would recommend that each art student would try to work with this subject at least once in their life.

What other typical subjects would you recommend to an art student as an exercise?

The Theory of Relativity and the Theory of Probability - no casualties

2011-08-14T12:03:00.000-04:00

This isn't my photo - its function is to draw your attention.

If you mix two theories together, the cocktail will look something like this. A tree is going to fall on a day when there's hardly any wind. It is going to fall in front of the entrance to our apartment building, which is usually full of baby strollers, grandparents, and visitors.

The tree is going to fall on a moving van, which just happened to be parked in the wrong place and in the opposite direction.

At the moment that the tree is going to fall down, three movers and one driver are going to be located inside the building, and not, as it were, inside the vehicle.

At the moment that the tree is going to fall down, the street that is reasonably busy on a typical afternoon is going to be free of passing cars.

If you mix the above two theories, all of this is going to happen directly underneath our balcony.

Probability theory is concerned with the analysis of random phenomena.

The End of the Week

2011-08-11T18:48:00.000-04:00

There have been so many important, unimportant, funny, and sad things going on this week that I’m afraid there’s a bit of a mess in my head. It’s necessary to let all the thoughts and events find their proper place in my mind, and to throw away that which doesn’t belong. That’s what the weekend is for!

Here are a few random scenes from this week – Our neighbour works at a bakery. That’s why we often enjoy fresh bread, which he kindly brings for us. This time, he showed up with double the usual amount. He told us that he was going away for a week, and he couldn’t bear to think of us left here without bread. What I’d like to know is how are we going to be left without our neighbour. He doesn’t yet know about our decision to move in the nearest future.

I got an olive-tree cutting board and salad spoon as a gift.

Our cat Deniska is well-known for being a gourmand and olive oil aficionado. The moment that I turned my back, he leapt onto my gifts and started licking them. He drooled all over them – eww! And, despite the fact that it looked kind of funny, I decided not to take pictures of him doing that. I didn’t want to ruin the reputation he has on this blog of looking elegant and serious. So, here’s another photo of him with his usual dignified manner.

This week, I kept coming across all kinds of strange objects and images. Here are a couple of examples.

At the moment, I don’t have a single worthwhile thought in my head. Maybe it’s time to watch some Marx Brothers.

Coffee Shot, Anyone?

2011-08-08T13:42:00.000-04:00

I can’t conceive of a morning without a cup of coffee. It needs to be very hot. The first sip tumbles through my entire being, letting me know that the day will turn out to be wonderful after all. The delectable coffee aroma caresses my nostrils, laughing off my doubts that things have the ability to turn out just fine.

I have a few tricks and secrets that are guaranteed to make my cup of coffee an exquisite delight each and every morning. The coffee must be of the best quality. I have to prepare it myself, with my own special magic. Then the delicious fragrance begins to spread throughout the whole apartment. It is essential that the coffee is very strong.

My relationship with brands like Starbucks is discussed here.

Here’s a little update in regards to my life these days. The epic renovation of the staircase is now complete. However, it turns out that it’s a little early to breathe a sigh of relief. We have received a two-page letter form out landlord, detailing all the further improvements, constructions, and renovations that are planned for this building in the nearest future. Among the things on the list there were new elevators and reinforcements for balconies.

Added to this is the fact that the next door neighbours are lacquering their floors. And then there are the downstairs neighbours, for whom every day is an excuse to drink and party.

It might not surprise you that, after living in this apartment for nearly 11 years, we are not actively searching for a new place to live. “Searching” seems like such a soft, peaceful words. The term I probably should have used is “frenzied hunt”. How long it will last, and how it will end, no one really knows. Any positive vibes sent in our direction will be greatly appreciated. I am definitely going to feel them.

And now, here are a couple of views of my beloved High Park, with whom we might have to part once we move. Though we are certainly going to visit as often as we can.

Two

2011-08-04T23:30:00.000-04:00

I dedicate this post to my first follower, who lives with her husband in Perugia, Umbria, Italy. Her name is Sarah Elizabeth. This young family expecting their first child!
When you visit her blog you will see what an angel she is. With this post, I would just like to wish her all the happiness in the world. I would also like to let her and you to know that I already have photos for the next post - Three :)

I hope everybody will have a great weekend! I hope you stay healthy and happy.

Our Long Weekend on the Lakes

2011-08-02T13:04:00.000-04:00

As soon as the long weekend begins, we start thinking of going someplace where we can be surrounded by nature. It's also the right time to seize the moment to go swimming. It's absolutely impossible to stay in Toronto during such weather.

This time, we have visited two places - Balsam lake and Killbear. (You can read about our previous visit to the latter location here.)

I am posting two photos - one from our previous visit, and one from our most recent one. I hope that you can spot the difference :)

I keep meaning to ask the park's employees - is this a joke, or does the bear really walk around the campsite?

The following are some photos of Balsam lake.

I was very surprised to find such an unusual and spooky house right in the middle of an athletic and summery community. It's not just abandoned, it's really creepy. My curiosity got the best of me, and I approached it to take a few photos.

We have had so much fun over the weekend. The water in the lakes was really warm, and we got some serious swimming accomplished.

While I was swimming, my husband took the following two shots, which I find charming and funny. The seagulls didn't waste any time; while the family went for a swim, they started to eat the chips.

I hope you all had an enjoyable weekend as well :)

2011 Shinsedai Cinema Festival - a guest post by Dasha Kotova

2011-07-29T16:37:00.000-04:00

Today’s post about the 2011 Shinsedai Cinema Festival – a showcase of independent Japanese films in Toronto – was written by one of the most important people in my life, who also happens to edit my English-language writing from time to time. My daughter, Dasha Kotova, is a writer for Toronto Film Scene, an online magazine that covers film-related events around Toronto, including all the most significant film festivals.

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It’s been a while since I’ve acquired an interest in Japanese culture and film – and it only seems to grow stronger. Naturally, when I had the chance to review the 2011 Shinsedai Cinema Festival, I was very excited. What appealed to me about this festival – besides its general relevance to my areas of interest – was the chance to enjoy Japanese independent films, and films that are not as widely known outside of Japan. It’s a real privilege to have a chance to discover such works.

The entire program for this year captured my interest, but I had to pick five screenings. Kid Commotion was one thing I decided to see, because it’s a rare occasion indeed to be able to watch a Japanese silent film from the 1930s. Many of these films - even ones created by established filmmakers like Torajiro Saito - have been lost, and Kid Commotion is an example of an early Japanese film that managed to reach our time. It was screened with live sound foley – imagine watching a movie while somebody in the room uses pots, bottles, paper, and other handy objects to produce the sounds you might expect to hear in the story. One of such sound effects could involve holding a sheet up against a fan to imitate the rustling of the wind. The sounds end up kind of comedically exaggerated, which really goes with the whole silent slapstick film aesthetic.

When I found out that the director of The Catcher on the Shore, Ryugo Nakamura, was 13 years old when the film was made, I became very intrigued. Unique imaginations and insights are often gifts of an early age, but not as many young people get around to channeling those resources into something quite as productive as a feature film. Nakamura’s film shows a nuanced perspective of a 12-year-old character who has an expanded sense of empathy towards animals. If you take the time to remember it properly, life wasn’t at all simple when you’re very young – especially when you come across subjects like mortality or a lack of understanding from others - but a lot of people tend to forget the details when removed from the situation. Ryugo Nakamura appeared at the festival (with candy for all of us!) to explain how he wanted to show his impression of life in the rural Okinawa. Although it certainly appears to be a beautiful place, the film shows that there is more to it than what tourist advertising typically presents.

Another screening I’ve attended included two short films by the independent filmmaker Devi Kobayashi. His work reminded me a little of absurd comedy like The Mighty Boosh, only from a Japanese rather than a British perspective – and the central themes revolved around finding the lighter side of feelings like a total misfit. Devi Kobayashi also appeared at the festival – as one of his characters; in a costume consisting of a turn-of-the-20th-century dress and outlandish drag queen makeup – to sing a song, and talk about his influences (which, perhaps not surprisingly, did include British comedy).

The two other films I’ve seen at the festival were Wandering Home and Sawako Decides. Both explored serious subjects with a unique sense of humour. Wandering Home concerned recovering from life-threatening alcoholism – you might wonder how it is possible to inject humour into such a topic. In the case of this film, it was by introducing it gently from time to time, and by showing it entirely from the characters’ point of view. It makes sense that people tend to use humour to cope even with the situations that seem the most hopeless. I found it to be a very encouraging and life affirming film that treated the situation with respect and empathy.

And finally – Sawako Decides was just plain one of the most hilarious movies I have ever seen. When I saw the photo of the title character on the festival brochure, dressed in that hygienic white factory uniform, making a silly face, I thought “That looks so Devo! I have to see it.” The film turned out to be very relatable in the way it shows the absurdities of life, and all the challenges of a quarter-life crisis. And it’s always a real treat for my feminist self to find such a well-developed female character. If you’ve been looking for an antidote to Manic Pixie Dream Girls, you should definitely see this movie.

Well, it must be pretty clear that I have had a lot of fun with this year’s Shinsedai Cinema Festival. I’m already looking forward to enjoying more films next year.

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Read Dasha's reviews here:
http://thetfs.ca/2011/07/27/review-kid-commotion-shinsedai-2011/
http://thetfs.ca/2011/07/27/review-the-catcher-on-the-shore-shinsedai-2011/
http://thetfs.ca/2011/07/27/review-wandering-home-shinsedai-2011/
http://thetfs.ca/2011/07/27/review-devi-kobayashi-special-shinsedai-2011/
http://thetfs.ca/2011/07/27/review-sawako-decides-shinsedai-2011/

Yellow

2011-07-25T14:03:00.001-04:00

Once again, there is construction going on in our building. This time, they are changing the stairways on both sides of the hallway. Or, rather, not the stairways themselves, but the handrails. If they were changing the whole thing, I probably would have lost my mind completely by now.

The word “handrail” might sound innocuous, but there is enough racket behind the wall to test anyone’s patience. The hammering, drilling, and creaking begins early in the morning, and ends around 6 o’clock in the evening. Naturally, they take a break for lunch, but that break is never long enough.

I know that there is such a thing as feeling “blue”, but, I wonder – is there a yellow mood? For me, a yellow mood is a good mood, although it threatens to tip over into mild eccentricity. It reminds me of those times when you laugh so hard that your stomach hurts and you lose your sense of balance. However, it always depends on the nuances of the mood.

Here’s what a guru has to say on the subject of the colour yellow:

Inexorably connected to the sun, yellow sparkles with heat,vitality,energy and light.

Believers in the powers of gemstones say that carrying a yellow gemstone promotes self-expression and that yellow stones stimulate movement and mental awareness,necessary for enhancing decision-making skills.

The softer and more golden shades of yellow bring thoughts of pleasant relaxation and warming comfort, as comfort foods. In times of stress, there is an increase in the sale of yellow foods as people revert to childhood comfort foods such as macaroni and cheese, buttered popcorn, custard, puddings, crackers, cookies, warm soups and ubiquitous, golden-toned French fries.

Amy Winehouse

2011-07-25T14:03:00.000-04:00

Wherever you may be right now, Amy, this is for you.

Hot Summer Days in High Park. Also - what is this fruit?

2011-07-20T13:49:00.000-04:00

I hope that your summer is interesting and enjoyable. We are experiencing a real Canadian heat wave. I feel approximately like the dog you'll encounter below. I would give anything to sit in the water all day. If only I had such an opportunity.

The owner took a long time calling her. After a while, with a highly indisposed expression, she proceeded to climb out of the cool, refreshing stream.

If you get out of the house, and take a walk down to the lake, you would get to see some beautiful views.

Somebody is splashing around in the water.

And somebody else, growing weary of the heat, flies away to the north.

You can see that not everyone is awfully welcoming in High Park.

When you really need that zoom lens, it just happens to be the time you left it at home.

It turned out that there were some little racoons living in the hollow tree. It could fit the mother raccoon along with five or six babies.

Now the question - what is this fruit? This happens to artists from time to time - we might buy a fruit because we are so very taken by its colour and form, with no idea what it is, or what you could eat it with. Help! Does anybody know what it is?

In the end, a delicious punch that I learned how to make from my blogger friend - the 50 best punch recipes

Stay cool!

The Chairs

2011-07-15T15:10:00.000-04:00

On a cold winter day, several years ago, I bought two unusual wooden chairs at one of my favourite antique markets. I didn’t buy them for my own enjoyment, but as a gift for someone else. A couple that we know was about to celebrate their anniversary. Their life together has been quite successful. Throughout the years, they became more and more alike – in their manners and preferences, and even in their appearance. When I saw those chairs, I realized that I had found a perfect gift. The two were practically identical. The only difference was in the etching on the backs of the chairs – one had the shape of the sun, and the other of the moon. Our friends, for all their resemblance, were just like the moon and the sun as far as their overall perception of life.

When the chairs were brought to our apartment, I couldn’t stop gazing at them. The decorative elements were so intricate, clearly fashioned by an experienced craftsman; they covered the arms and legs of the chairs. The design was so enchanting. I couldn’t help but wonder, who would possibly wish to sell such things?

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a strange and persistent sound. It seemed as though someone was scratching or gnawing nearby. Following a brief investigation of these spooky circumstances, it turned out that the source of the sound were the chairs. The chairs had noises. There was some strange activity going on inside them. My overactive imagination even conjured the sound of snorting and a familiar melody being hummed.

The next day, a specialist counseled us to leave the chairs outside in the freezing weather. There they stood for the whole day. The frost was quite brutal that time. I was filled with hope that I might be able to deliver these gifts yet – but without the wood-munching insects that dwelled within.

When the chairs returned into the apartment, the bugs showed no signs of life for a whole other day. And then they rose from the dead and resumed their activity.

The specialist said “These are some good chairs. The bugs know their stuff – they love some fine quality wood. They’re not going to eat furniture from Ikea. I suggest that you burn these chairs, so that nobody else brings them to their house.”

What a comfort. Thank you very much for that.

For the longest time after that incident, I was haunted by existential questions. Just think – somebody created this marvelous work of art. And then, some little bug, who could just as well eat something less valuable and not even know the difference, went ahead and ruined the magic.

I really enjoy chairs and tables. Especially the ones that have a happy history. I think they should be used for a long time, and used lovingly. Old chairs and tables know so much, and they can even tell if you know how to ask.

Happy weekend!

Time Off

2011-07-10T16:22:00.000-04:00

Fortunately, this photo isn't mine.

The first commandment of a seasoned blogging pirate is never to blog whilst sick or in a bad mood. (Or, as it often happens, both at the same time.) I am going to break it slightly. But only a tiny bit.

I'm not in a bad mood at all, although I'm feeling rather sick this weekend. It always makes me wonder - how is it possible to start coughing and blowing your nose when there's a sunny summer weather outside? It's an absolutely understandable state for any other time of the year. But the summer...the summer, when the sun is shining, everything is singing, and calling you to come out to enjoy nature. And you are obliged to stay home to take pills and herbal teas. It's a shame to miss out on so much fun.
Oh well - viruses tend to catch you unawares. You end up having to put off all your plans and cancel all your outings, to sit all alone with your Kleenex. The only thing that could make you feel happier is a bouquet of roses and some takeout Thai food.
I realize that I have forgotten how to act when I'm sick. I find myself too close to the computer, the easel, and the fridge.
Naturally, when I feel better, I will return to my life of swashbuckling adventure. I will visit all of you, so as to be updated on your summer fun. I wish you good health, so that you don't get sick, and get the most out of the season.

Today's photo.

Colours

2011-07-08T11:43:00.000-04:00

Colour is usually interpreted differently in different contexts. For an artist, it is extremely fascinating to know how other people respond to the colour combinations in his or her paintings. Could the colour pink be provocative? Could blue be intimate? When we talk about orange, why do we see it as energetic?
Colour is all around us. When we close our eyes, do we ever have thoughts and images in grayscale?
I have met some people who can't stand certain colours, or particular shades. And I have also met people who report being "wowed" by a colour.

If you have a spare moment, please deposit your five cents into my piggy bank - tell me, what two colours do you like and dislike the most?

I had such an intense week, with a lot of work. I hope that this weekend will be relaxing.

Below, you will find a couple of videos. In one of them, I am very taken by the colour of the bench. As for the second one - it may be black and white, but it expresses colourful feelings :)

Happy weekend!

2011-07-06T11:37:00.000-04:00

Having read my blogger friends’ Jane and Lance Hattatt wonderful, ironic post about their searches for Mad Boy, I noticed that thoughts and memories about my Mad Boy won’t leave me in peace. When Mad Boy and I have met, I was 14 and he was 15. We didn’t go to the same school, but we both enjoyed going to the theater, where we were introduced by our friend who worked there. We quickly became inseparable. We shared so many common interests, and found so much common ground. We didn’t even need to take the time to learn each other’s habits.

Here are the kinds of things that MB and I would do when we had some time off from our school schedules and my extra-curricular art classes. We went to hear live chamber music. We sneaked into the zoo in the dead of night to find out whether the lion snores. We drew comics for each other. We wrote limericks. We discussed books and films. We even gossiped a little about mutual friends.
One time, MB baked me a very challenging cake. And I gave him a bouquet of violets. We made fun of Shakespeare sonnets – I read them in the voice of a dental receptionist, and he did the impression of a 40-year-old man who lives with his mother.

MB wrote some of my school essays, and dropped them off in my mailbox. I would find them in the morning and, with my cup of coffee in my hands, copy them into my notebook. I always got the highest marks. With the teacher’s note “Pretty soon I won’t be able to read your handwriting”.
It couldn’t be any different, because my MB was extraordinary. A long time before Wikipedia, I would ask him questions about anything I wanted to know. By the age 20, he could speak several European languages, and began mastering Japanese. And you should have seen his drawings! His talent was enormous and unique. Whenever I would come to his house, he would pull out a stack of new drawings, and I would forget about everything else while I studied them. Time would cease to exist. It was frozen on the sheets of paper.

MB was the first to finish school and go to university. We started to see each other more rarely. He would pretend to be an adult, which really irritated me. A year later, I went into the same program at university. We began seeing each other more frequently again. However, I now had my own friends, entertainment, and problems. And still, I found that I could turn to him for help with just about anything.

While I was in university, I had a tendency to break up with my current boyfriend right before New Year’s. This brought about the rather dull prospect of celebrating New Year’s Eve with my parents. Each time, MB would find out about my situation at the last moment, and invite me to the most unusual places to celebrate it with the most interesting people. Can you imagine my gratitude?

The first trip abroad that MB took was to the city of his dreams – Venice. My husband drove him to the airport and picked him up when he got back. When my daughter was born, MB reported that he was crying with joy.

This doesn’t mean that we never had any arguments. We had plenty of those. MB would insist that my head was filled with nonsense. I would accuse him of being a snob.

The time passed by with infrequent meetings and phone conversations for many years, until the time my family and I decided to move to Canada. MB told me that he’d have no one to talk to.
Seven years after moving to Canada, I went to visit Russia. Among the first in the list of people to see was MB.

I found that he had hardly changed physically. He also found that I was the same as usual. He even made fun of me, telling me that I had the same hair.
We went over to his place. He lived in the same apartment as before, with his mother. After our discussion, I asked to see his drawings and poems. He told me that we’ll get to that later. Then he pulled out a bottle of cognac and a lemon. The time of the day was around noon. He didn’t have air conditioning in his home – and, contrary to what you might have heard, it does get very hot in Russian in the summertime. We started drinking and chatting. He told me about working as teacher at our university. He didn’t have a computer at home. It had been a while since he traveled anywhere, and, when I asked him why that was so, he told me that the first reason is laziness, and the second one is too much work and drinking. We finished up one bottle, and he decided to go for another.
This isn’t like me at all, but I actually felt like I was drinking tea. There was this tension in the air. He asked me, “What gives you so much sustained drive?” I told him that I haven’t quite figured it out. He told me that he came out as gay. I said that I hope that made him happier.

The tension in the air had lessened. I asked to see his drawings again, and he brought some out. I took them in my hands, and felt a chill. I had seen those drawings 7 years ago. I experienced a wave of sadness, but I pretended that everything was fine.

He offered me to step into a neighbouring gallery and meet somebody. When we got there, MB introduced me as “That girl who gave me the violets”. We were asked into the office, and the gallery manager, who was a friend of MB’s, pulled a bottle of vodka out of her minibar, which she and MB began to drink, while snaking on chocolates. The gallery manager gazed at me in wonder, and asked “Aren’t you going to have some?” The gallery had some of MB’s old works.

I said my farewells to MB. After all, I had another engagement at 5. He gave me a hug and said, “I hope you won’t be going away for another 7 years.” I patted him on the back. I was in a real hurry.
I think that perhaps Mad Boy is not supposed to grow up and grow older.