neony

Zacala jsem zase chodit do skoly, delam si kurs CADu – prestoze v nem uz delam pres 10let nemam zadnou formalni kvalifikaci a ted mi to prislo jako docela dobra doba osvezit si teorii. V budove kde ma nase skola prostory je vice subjektu. Chodbami vyssich pater se prohaneji studenti vsech barev a dole v prizemi prosvecovaly jedna okna barevne neony. Par dnu jsem obchazela budovu ze vsech smeru ale ani zvenku ani zevnitr jsem do tech prostor nemohla najit zadny oznaceny vchod. Uz jsem se pomalu smirila s faktem ze pujde o soukrome pronajate prostory na dilnu, nikoliv verejnou galerii ale stejne mi to nedalo. Na prvnim patre byly neony ozdobeny steny kavarny zvane Kitchen a ja byla rozhodnuta dozvedet se neco vic o jejich zdroji. Dnes jsem sla zase chodbou a dvere do studia byly pootevrene. A tak jsem za ne vzala a nakoukla jsem dovnitr. Odmenou za odvaznost mi bylo seznameni s majitelem firmy Neilem, prohlidka a provedeni jeho studiem, osvetleni zalezitosti vyroby a nastineni cen.

Nemohla jsem se jeho studiem dostatecne nakochat, nejradsi bych se tam nekde usadila pro zbytek dne. Obrazy a fotky na stenach, sochy, plotr a velky plachty pismen rozkreslenych v CADu, dratky a skleneny trubice. Detaily a dekorace svedcici o zabydlenosti mista. Prostor nabity kreativitou a zarici nejen neony ale pozitivni energii.

Dneska jsem pozitivne nabita!

neon

Ted kdyz o tim premyslim pripada mi ze dost z jeho hotovejch veci byly veci ktery delal sam pro sebe a ty vzkazy maji dost hluboky podtext. Je v tom poezie. Umeni. Neni to zakazka na kseft kterou si nekdo objednal a nevyzvednul. Proste si hraje, dela co ho bavi. I kdyz ty ceny za mensi veci ktery mi ukazoval zacinaj na par stovkach liber, proste nevidim jako realny ze by si ta vecne prazdna kavarna mohla dovolit nekolikametrove kusy. Spis to tam ma jako vlastni instalaci ze solidarnosti. I kdyz pod tim nema logo a vizitky svoji firmy. Hmmm

Jsou veci mezi nebem a zemi….

Road trip

I was doing the ordinary school run and shopping trip today and stopped for a petrol at New Cross. When I was getting out of the car and reaching for the pump, I had two short memory flashbacks.

One was my first filling at this very same petrol station near Sainsburys 3 years ago. It was in the evening, I was alone, half scared and half amazed by the fact I am actually doing it by myself. After I filled the tank, screwed the top back on, closed the door and went to pay, my knees were bit wobbly. Coming out of the shop, starting up the car and putting the music on felt like a scene from a movie. I was the main star there. The feel of freedom was imminent, you could smell it, breath it, hear it, almost touch it.

The second flashback wasn’t a big jump in time. Two weeks ago, I was at the same spot, the same pump perhaps, after we just made a journey from Prague. Car boot filled up with bags and stuff, inside three sleeping bodies. Two little ones at the back and one tall, curled up at the front passenger seat.
Did I really make it there and back? It seems and feels like ages ago. Like it never happened. Like I haven’t travelled up and down the country and, indeed, Europe.

I felt suddenly strong sympathy for this old rusted piece of metal, for taking me there, for not letting me down. What an adventure! Shall we do it next year again? I bet we could!

car