The insufferable newness of things

Much has changed since my last post. My entire life has turned into something different and very little remains the way it was. Part by choice, part by accident, part as a result of negligence on my part.

It seemed nothing but suitable to change the name of the blog as well. The new name is a tribute to two persons who's work has made a deep impact on me: Haruki Murakami and Louise Bourgeois.

Hopefully, new things will come of this. If not, at least a visual mark was left.

Repeat, repeat, repeat and then onwards?

Being a deshi is to spend a lot of time listening, watching and repeating the things you have heard and seen. In the beginning I percieved it kind of like a mountain that needed to be climbed in order to get somewhere else, to reach new things. I sped onwards.

But somewhere along the road, I started to enjoy climbing, and did no longer long for the goal, the top of the mountain. I found that even if I kept repeating the same patterns new things happened, and in every familiar curve and line there was an endless amount of newness and promises. And now, I've started to hope that this mountain has no top.

A short reflection about age

Something started to happen to me a while ago, but I noticed it for real maybe a few months back. It started really slowly, barely noticeable but in time, it picked up the phase. I started to feel it in my very bones, it was visible in my skin, I could feel it in my mind. Something had irreversibly started to change, and I knew all to well what it was. I have slowly started to grow older.

Yeah, I know what some of you're thinking - with the big three o just around the bend, this is just some kind of crisis, and a rather silly one as well. Well, it might be so but I really doubt it. First of all, it feels nothing like a crisis, it's actually quite comfortable. I can look back and for the first time ever have some perspective on things I've said and done. I can see that I've started to learn important things, and that it took me quite a while to realize what really was important to me. That a lot of my struggles has been rather pointless, and did not get me anywhere. That the path I am walking on now seems a lot more promising, and at the same time a lot harder. That I have, at times, been childish, selfish and less than a decent person. That I have spent a awful lot of time just looking back. And with this with me, I do also see that I am still nothing but a child with a immense amount of things still left to learn, and a lot of mistakes still left to make. There will be new things to try and make a mess out of. There will also be things to master, and maybe even perfect, if happiness smiles upon me. It does feel quite good, after all.

To cherish one's obsessions

Chikanobu, Tamamo-no-mae changing into a nine tailed fox, 1886

I have collected pictures of prints depicting kitsune in different ways, and am highly interested in the very act of tranformation, where the person ceases to be human and turns into his or hers animal form. I like the fact tat this transformation isn't shown, just hinted at in different ways as in the fold of fabrics that echoes the outlines of tails, or how a persons shadow shows an animal instead. It leaves most of the transformation to the imagination of the viewer, something I find very attractive. Some things can only bli imagined.

A song, and a fox

I've had a song on my mind for days now. It has followed me around wherever I've been, and listening to it has been the first thing I've done in the morning and the very last thing I've done before falling asleep. It's not that it's such a great song or anything. It's not very catchy, not overly interesting nor does it have any kind of outstanding lyrics. It's just a song. But it has stuck to my mind, and it makes me remember stuff I haven't been thinking about for years.

In that way, it is indeed a special song, like a door to places long forgotten. It has made me think of things that has been, things that are and things that will be. I haven't really given myself the time to think that much lately, so it was about time something made me stop. I guess that it was time to sort out a thing or two, and now I feel more at ease. This song in combination with a weekend in the stillness of my parents home, has made me feel more prepared and focused than ever. Music is indeed a strange kind of magic.

Speaking of focus; the work with the design of the fox wife is coming along nicely. We got quite a bit of line work done just the other day, and will most likely have the main design down in just a sitting (or two) more. Viktor is holding out well, and for this being his first tattoo, shows great patience with the long process. It is going to be worth all the waiting, I'm certain.

Newness.

So here it is. The new year. It took me a few days to really realise it and let go of 2009 but now even I cant deny it anymore.

New year, new times, new habits. And, of course, new ways in which to challenge myself. I must say, seeing a entire decade pass and being reasonably aware of it (most of the time) is humbling and not just a little bit exciting. As a part of the New Year optimism I've decided to try out stuff that I do not feel that I fully master. Such as writing a entire blog entry in english. I cant promise that I'll stick to it, but I did at least give it a try (but only after a few encouraging words from sensei, I must admit). We'll se how long it'll last, wont we?

So, anyways... a New Year. Year of the Tiger, according to the chinese zodiac. It seems more like the year of the fox to me - I'm currently working on two larger pieces depicting kitsune, as my swedish readers is well aware of, and both Thomas and Viktor is eager to get more work done. It's challenging as wall as highly rewarding to be able to work so focused on one type of motif and I'm glad to be given that opportunity.
When I'm not thinking of kitsune, I try to make something out of a design with Daikoku and Ebisu. It has proven itself a bit more complicated than expected, but I think I am on to something. Time will tell.

Förluster

Nyligt gick en nära släkting bort. En del av en annan generation, den sista länken till ett samhälle innan televison, mobiltelefoner och kraven på konstant tillgänglighet - min älskade farfar. Det är en svår förlust, och jag kommer att sakna honom längre. Än känns det inte helt sant, inte helt trovärdigt att han inte finns där, att det inte bara är att lyfta telefonluren och få ett svar. Det är dags att vänja sig vid den tanken.

Förutom sorgen att mista någon som funnits där vid hela min uppväxt så innebär även hans bortgång att en möjlighet för alltid gått förlorad. Jag kan inte längre fråga om det som varit, det som han mindes, det som han tänkte. För mig har kontakten med mina mor- och farföräldrar varit viktiga länkar till min historia, något som funnits innan mig, sett, upplevt och gjort saker som jag inte ens kunnat drömma om. Men långsamt, en efter en, har de gått bort. Ibland hastigt och oväntat, ibland långsamt borttynande, genomgående metamorfoser som slutligen bara lämnat ett skört litet skal kvar.

Tiden är obönhörlig, kan jag tänka. Och sedan slår det mig, att den bara är just tid. Och att jag spenderat mycket av den i ett priviligerat tillstånd med flera generationers vakande ögon på mig. Och att jag kanske, med tiden, kommer att hålla ett vakande öga på någon annan. Kretsloppet fortsätter. Det är, ändå, förtröstansfullt.