Making nostaliga real

Sunday was a big day in the house of Joy B. Her teenage son chose to have a civil confirmation. You see, at the island of extremes all kids his age get confirmed to Christianity, well almost all, believers or not. However on April 17th (my birthday) 93 brave souls went against the stream and got confirmed in a civilized way. The kids got fantastic preparation and education before the confirmation ceremony took place, such as; ethics, human relations, human rights, equal rights, relations between the sexes, prevention of alcohol and drug abuse, skepticism, protecting the environment, getting along with parents, being a teenager in a consumer/advertising-dominated society, and what it means to be an adult and take responsibility for your views and behavior.

You might not know it but Joy B is a rather nostalgic person, she craves for a big family and likes family traditions. She likes to carry on with the things she loved when she was a kid. Like how the family used to come together every year at my grandparents house and after eating much and talking much we sang, my grandfather played the guitar, my mom too and my granny played the harmonica, the rest of us sang. It was just something about it that would make me get all warm inside. Therefore, my aim was to get that warm feeling inside and try to give that to the rest of the family somehow. Most people in Iceland are just too busy to meet the rest of their family; aunts and uncles relations are almost over. It is quite crazy, and I refuse to take part in it. Anyway the most important thing was to see it is possible, so when I have a bit bigger living space, maybe a house someday, who knows, than I will start to have big family parties… I shall make new traditions. Anyway Neptunus the king of the ocean was of course beautiful during the ceremony and at his confirmation party. Poor thing my mom had made a poem about him and his many qualities and we all sang except him that wanted to sink into the earth or something. Of course I managed to have a little accident, the zipper on my antic dress broke in front of everyone as I was opening the window. The most important thing about this all was how everyone helped out in making this possible, even my neighbor let me keep my bed in her flat because my flat is small and I had to rearrange everything to fit all these people in here….

My birthday was a bit in hiding, because it was my sons day, he was to shine… I don’t understand people that don’t cherish their birthdays. I think it is cool to have a day that is mine mine mine…. Moreover, I get to have a cake, always, no matter what. For an artist, writer or a poet age is good, because it creates a depth, the knowing we want to share..

The crime of silence when we should speak out

I saw a brilliant documentary a few nights ago about the vagina monologues. A true inspiration in action. I had in my own little everyday word forgotten how many women suffer because SOME men believe they have ownership over them. Suffer because of the shame of the unspeakable violence brought upon them. It is so easy to forget things in our world if they don’t inflict on our personal life directly. It is so easy to fall into the pit of roughhouses and close the heart and mind to other perspectives. I had become fed up with the feminist movement; our world is a bit out of balance still because the changes different thinking has brought about. I personally don’t think the best or the only solution is to abandon motherhood for carrier oriented thinking. I don’t think that is what all women want, it would also be nice to see a world where there was a choice and respect for those that want to stay at home. That is also work, but not highly appreciated because the lowest wages are for women that work as caregivers for our kids in day cares and elementary schools. So is that a reflection of how we look at homemakers, that looking after your kids is the least interesting work there is, the least valued work. I think so. Women have gotten so caught up in the male oriented thinking that they have forgotten the matriarch, how can we justify dumping our children and parents into institutes instead of making them a real home. I don’t understand it. I mean I want to be successful but isn’t one of the greatest successes to raise healthy children who will have the moral fiber to evolve beyond us?
I don’t understand why I should feel more of a person if I am working as a manger for other people than for example my family. I mean can’t I do both? No not really it is all or nothing at least in Iceland. But are we happy, we claim we are the happiest nation in the world, at the same time no other nation uses as many happy pills, and no other nation gives their kids as much Ritalin as we do. No other nation has as many women that fake satisfaction during sex, I wonder if that is also the case in the real life. What I like about the vagina monologues is that it addresses the silence. It gets people to talk about things that are shameful and often very painful. We need this sort of monologues in so many fields of our lives. We are living in a world out of tune with itself. Our is the path of self-destruction. We have to do something NOW or there will be very little left for the next generations, not only have we destroyed more than we can ever repaired when it comes to our planet but we have are responsible for much more damage. The crime of doing nothing when we know we should. The crime of silence when we should speak out. The crime of indifference to everything except material security, yet nothing is as frail as material security.

Diane999 - the Cobalto Saga

Diane999 the graphic novel I am developing with the Hand aka Maurizio di Bona is now being introduced online. Beautiful web and amazing drawings. Content flowing in, make sure to have a look when you can. I am only a humble writer in this project, but it is inspirational to draw words from the space the Hand has created.

In other news, the Tsunami video Jim Wrathall put so skillfully together with my tribute poem has been downloaded more then 11.000 times in less than a week.

Tsunami video

I am lacking words today. Been working with a friend Jim Wrathall on the making of a Tsunami video using a poem i wrote in a response to the second of christmas disaster. He added a new dimension to these words. Even brought me almost to tears. Tonight i fear that many more will suffer in this region that has already suffered so much. My heart goes out for all of them. I wish i was there so i could help. But i am stuck here and all i got to offer is hope in those darkest of times. Click here to see the video. Jim did an amazing work combining photos, art, sound and my voice into something beyond words.

riding high on the wings of my muse

Most people that I know think that I might be a little bit to active, some even think that I am a super woman, but hell no I am just intoxicated by the movement of life within and around and NO I am not pregnant I am just filled with the holy muse of creation. Gosh that sounds quite absurd. The chameleon strikes again, bleeds into the picture like sweet water drop into salt water.
I am such a lucky person; I get to be driven, with a force beyond greed and sometimes ego:) By the force of the muse of creativity. It is quite merciless sometimes. I am always working because I am what I am, art. Everything I do is a reflection of my art and my art is a reflection of me and so everything I do is artistic. lol. How brilliant, so I am the canvas, I am the empty page, the silence, until I fill it with me. How egocentric this sounds though. I am possessed with the spirit of creativity and it is intense. But before I started this rant I just wanted to share a few of the things I have been up to in the last month or so in servitude of the muse.
First of all I have been doing some groundwork for Diane, a graphic novel born in the mind and soul of Maurizio di Bona, he has set up a brilliant website to explain the concept, the evolution and lots of goodies. I was invited to take send work to the newest issue of Poems Niederngasse in the Pancultural Exploration of Love Supplemental issue. What better way to start spring than to think of love and to explore it through the eyes of so many brilliant writers the contributing editor Annette Marie Hyder had gathered. I got one article and one poem plus a couple of artworks in it. A warm thank you to the editor for remembering me. In addition, I have a few articles in the next Grapevine and the fancy title Art Correspondent and the pick of the week online.
And next week I will publish 10 books by myself in Icelandic, they are finally the way I want them and this week I have been hand stitching and cutting all sorts of paper, gold, transparent, silver, recycled and seeing it come together, what a wonderful feeling. These books are only in Icelandic and the result of many many years of gathering my work from all different places and bringing them home within their theme and the shape on the page….. I will make them available online in e-book format for those curious enough to bother download it. And I have translated 2 poems by Diane di Prima to Icelandic, and it was such joy. Her work is so brilliant. What a voice, what a warrior of brutal honesty. Working on getting her work published in Iceland. None of her work has been published here and as a matter of fact very few USA poets have been translated to this ancient sound.

The many faces of insanity

I have been to many events in the last month or so, seen 3 plays in less than a week where the central theme is tragedy and the insanity of love. One of the plays I saw was simply brilliant By The Bog of Cats by an Irish playwright; Marine Carr. In the production of that play everything conspired to perfection and I was deeply moved. Then I saw another play dealing with almost identical emotions and levels of insanity and it was one of the most boring things I have ever seen, I couldn’t wait to get out of there, but when I was watching the other play I hoped it wouldn’t end. I was ready to see it again and again. Now what makes and breaks a play, I think it must be the manuscript and then all the other important elements. Now I am supposed to write about the play I didn’t like and I am not sure if I want to do it. Maybe it is just simply better to leave it in silence
Just after I came home from the theatre I watched the film the Butterfly Effect with Neptunus, when it started I thought, oh no another thing about insanity and its many ugly faces. But the film turned out to be good, I mean it had a bit of mystery in it and was almost mythological at times, specially when it was over and it all started to make sense. I very rarely watch TV or use my DVD player; most of the films I have watched in the last months are political. What a geek I am. Anyway the best part about last night was the simple fact that because Neptunus and me watch so rarely films or TV it was a special moment. We discussed the film after it and the fact how often the TV is turned off compared to most homes we know. We always have our heads stuck in the computers. At least we are doing something, not only receiving, not like vegetables having to be spoon-fed with information.

Being a writer

Even if I had pretty much made up my mind when I was 14 that I was going to dedicate my life to the muse of poetry, I got bored with it when I had achieved to have my first book of poetry published when I was 21 by the largest publisher in Iceland at that time. I wanted to explore more creative sides of myself. And so I did. It wasn’t until about a year ago that I called upon the muse of writing. I had finally made up my mind about what I wanted to choose of the very many different creative expressions I had experimented with through the years. It is a work of much solitude, but at the same time it requires life to be explored and tasted by all the senses.

Ever since I called upon the muse of writing and the muse of poetry. (They are not the same), I have been sorting through the various qualities of material and ideas that have piled up in my computer through the years. It has been a massive process, because I am not only processing the written words of almost two decades, but also many emotional attachments to them. As a result of all this work I have one novel, 10 small books of poetry on different themes and a handful of short stories. Once I have got these published I will be able to start writing my new novel. I mean it is impossible to get pregnant while giving birth… even if I am sure there is at least one freak incident in our human history of that too.

I am now an art correspondent for the Icelandic Grapevine and it has forced me out of my solitude into the whirlwind of other people’s creations. I like that challenge, part of it is to be a critic and I am a little bit freaked out about it, it is a lot of responsibility to be in that role. I promise myself not to be judgemental, but rather act like an observer. Try to be transparent about it, I mean I can never really write about anything that is not coloured by my own self, viewpoints and opinions.

Soon I shall be walking a shoreline of another country, feeling, sensing the smell of the ocean, the smell of citrus and feeling the fingers of the sun play with my hair.

the King of the Oceans

Once was swimming in my belly
I dreamt him
He had such long eyelashes
that they made it feel as if i had butterflies in my belly
I knew how he looked like
I knew how his deep blue eyes
would change the shades of everything around me
once he would enter the world
In my dreams he often gave me messages
He said: My name shall be Neptunus
I said: But that is too strange, let me find a name
He said: Look at the planets
I forgot the message but
I dreamt again and he had taken the Goddess of dreams with him
They showed me black on white the Name
and so it is that the one that once reigned over the oceans
is yet again among us
but no longer a God but a mortal being
but the ocean is still in his blue eyes

The Diary of the Chameleon

As I am typing this my novel is being prepared for publishers. It is truly a miracle that I ever finished it. It took me 17 years to find the right voice in it. Its live is taking on many shapes and forms. Maybe because it is about the chameleon element in the person it is written about, maybe that is why it is taking so many forms and shapes. It is the Icelandic version that is ready now. I still got about 70 pages left of it to translate. Once that is done it will be ready to shed its skin again into a new body. The body of another story; Cobalto. Don't miss that transformation. It will be something truly special. Sometimes when you permit someone else to enter into the creative process. True alchemy happens.

Adventures what are they?

I don't know really, but I think it is something like this; My adventures usually happen in relation to the Internet. Maybe because through it I travel. I get sucked into it, as if I am but a blood-cell being pumped trough the great heart of it. I don't see the Internet as anything then a living organism. Maybe because I have met so many people through it. Many are and will always be virtual. But even through the virtual friendship there is something real about it. Sometimes much more real then the relations I have with people I interact with on daily bases in the not so virtual world. Through the virtual the not so virtual the so called real stuff has happened. Projects happen, people happen, travel happen, things materialise. I think the Internet is a materialisation of the collective consciousness. I think the reason why everything is happening so fast, is because we are connecting much quicker then ever before. I think the Internet has made our world real. It has enabled us to see much further into other countries through the eyes of the real people living there. And thus I love the Internet, it has made my life a living adventure.

we must always remember..

..to never give up

I had not met with my fellow radicals for more then a month. Reason: January happened. It is my month of introspection. I had hardly been out of the house. I worked like a maniac on my novel, the diary of the chameleon. It is in its final prove in icelandic but i had to trow away my previous english translation. Why: it sucked; and i had changed the book so much since i translated it that it was not the same. so 35000 words out the window... what a good feeling. ugly little bastards when they are out of proportion. oh how can i say such a thing. one should love they children no matter if misfits.

So i met with my fellow raidcals at the radical center and there was a good group of the same faces that are doing things at the edge of the legal. Storming our rather ugly city with messages to our sleeping brothers and sisters. Maybe the words contain a magic formula that might wake them up.

I love this city; even if it is ugly; it is gray, oh it is gray during winter. But it has mountains hugging its bordres and the ever shifting color of the ocean. The geese at the pond have in a charming way lost their mind from hunger and attack the hands that feeds them. It has very few things for the eye but yet those ugly things in a pile are my Reykjavik and i love the things under the crust. The nests; the eccentric people in them; and the ravens.

Á ströndinni er selshamur ......

Does Joy B have a twin sister?

I woke up this morning with this strange feeling in my belly. I dreamt that i had a twin sister, she was acting a lot nicer then me. She gave me the creeps to be honest, total optimist and never cranky. She was smiling at me and saying things like, "wow your hair is perfect and where did you get such cool dr martins:" she was only saying to be kind to me. I woke up and i wasn't sure if this had been a dream or if she is really out there somewhere. Maybe in a parallel universe!!! Maybe when i run down to the bakery, i might run into her. No this is just a dream. There could never be two me!

wanderlust

Ok i admit it, i have wanderlust again. it means i got to wander off my island, but i can't just yet. got to enjoy the fact there are ONLY 280.000 people on the whole island. got to be thankful for the fact we are all related in one way or another. and if you meet some person for the first time you will after about 10 minutes find at least one person you both know quite well.

I wonder if one can get a cultural claustrophobia. last night a girl from Canada came for a visit, she had with her a video with a recording of TV show about Iceland, i happened to be in it and that is how we got to know each other, she found me on the internet. anyway most of my guests in Iceland are not from Iceland. all my Icelandic friends are too busy to come over for dinner or a visit. so thank god for the internet yet again... providing me with guests to my humble house once in a while.
it was nice to chat with someone that is for sure not related to me at all. but perhaps has more thought and ideas in common with me then most Icelanders....

anyway seeing myself on that Canadian TV show with French subtitles was funny
i wish i had a copy of it so i could laugh at it with my virtual friends that i am not sure if are real or hidden people...

oh free me from this wanderlust and let me go find my hidden friends in the house cliffs......

the Spell

eARTh Day Poster

I created this poster for for this years Earth day. There is still time to take part if you are an artist. Go here to find out how you can be part of it.

Vikings on rollerblades!!!

Emotional smothering

winter

where are you
drifting in the cold
in the hot
not lost i hope

do the trains sing
on the tracks
are you onboard
driving towards a new destiny

where are you
as the cocoon of winter
lifts me up
and i am floating
in a deshavu sort of reality

look, who's talkin'!

Say Cheese