Lineanongrata

For fear of being stupid - Or: You can't write Devanagari with a lot of bangles on your wrist

Among many other fears (cooked carrots, hair in the sink, giant spiders that somehow have eloped from their natural amazonian habitat and now live in my closet...) I am afraid I might end up dumb.

Seriously. I spend all my days alone, sometimes only talking to the lady at the checkout counter in my grocery store. And, yes, my mother. Thrice a day. But still, that's a lot of time alone, and although I usually enjoy working on my own and not having to talk to anybody I am also afraid I might end up communicating like the Yeti. You know how it goes. You're standing right there, ready to pay for apples, bananas milk and some bread, the checkout lady asks you something and you answer somewhere along the lines of

'Huh? Huhhhuuuuuou!'

Because you're kind of out of practice?

That's why I'm learning Hindi and Devanagari (that's the written form). At least I'll be able to communicate with the checkout lady in some language. It's most reassuring, believe me.

Ah, but seriously. I really am afraid of not knowing, of being not educated. It haunts me that I didn't understand anything about India. At all. One day I think I might go back and be better prepared.

And so you can find me in the evenings, reading with great application and the utmost concentration every a, aaah, e, i, o and au in every text I can find in Devanagari script.

Have you tried to learn how to write again recently? It's an interesting experience.

 

 

 

A ridiculous but short post about home bliss (the advent calendar giveaway, day 15)

For years I've thought that decorating your home for the holidays (Christmas or Easter, you name it) is for girls (it isn't mentioned in the kickboxer's manual to tomboy-ism, for example). Because really, the holidays only last for a couple of weeks (why aren't they called Holiweeks, or even Hollyweeks?) and you have to a) find the decorations in the basement, dig them out, dust them, find a place for them, find a vase for the entire arrangement... and then b), once the holidays are over, take them down, put them neatly into a box (because otherwise you won't find them next year in that croweded basement), hide them in the basement (because if you didn't, where would be the fun in searching for them next year?), and all that just for a couple fo weeks! A lot of effort for a couple of baubles, I thought.

This year though, being much better organized than last year (probably because I have invested in a dishwasher and an automatic vacuum cleaner) I have found myself with at least ten free minutes to spare. And I thought 'Wow, what now?!' So I went to the basement and...

You know what? I've found that a) is really worth it. Because even though I only run by my Christmas-bauble arrangement all day in great haste (and it lives in a water jug intended for large batches of punch), it still reminds me that this is Advent, that Christmas is coming and that damn, in all that running around, between all those trips to the post office, all those emails, the Christmas cards, the whatever-else-comes-up, we should be happy.

.......................

Chrissy, you won yesterday's advent gift (which makes me happy)! Would you please write me an email telling me your address so I can send it on it's way?

For everyone who's new to the Lineanongrata blog: We have an ongoing celebration of Advent until the 24th of December. Every day one of you readers wins a small gift. If you'd like to participate, just leave a comment on each post until the 24th of December and you'll automatically enter the draw.

Note to self (the advent calendar giveaway, day 6)

When I started teaching at the beginning of this year I didn't really know what to expect. Since then I have learned a lot. Other people have, too. They learned things about illustration, I learned things about people.

I'm 33 and ancient. What I say is rarely questioned although I am neither a loud nor an aggressive teacher. They just accept the wisdom such old age brings with it.

I have learned to let them talk. They don't need anyone to tell them about life's lessons. For many of them this is the first time they live away from home. They just finished Highschool. And now they can invent themselves all anew. So many possibilities. So many things to think about. So many things to talk about. So I listen.

I have learned that being firm is important. But one can say the same thing in a negative or a positive way. Beginning with the things that are good in an illustration, then talking about those things that could be better is much more helpfull and much less offending than being blunt and saying 'this isn't good'. It's rather hard to refuse making some changes or adjustments if you've just been paid a compliment.

But even with all this wisdom there are still times when I'm surprised, and, more often than not, humbled by something they do or say. Sometimes there are exceptional illustrations. Sometimes there is progress I wouldn't have expected.

And tonight there was a young girl from Georgia. The eastern european country, not the state. She's a tiny little bit, happy, friendly, a bit on the nervous side. She speaks very good German but is always a bit breathless. I knew she had studied German in school and had then been an Au Pair somewhere in Germany. Ours is a complex language and being as fluent as she is takes a lot of effort. I know that, and in my mind, had given her credit for it.

Tonight we were talking about this and that while she worked on a drawing. I asked things about Georgia, a country I know literally nothing about. She told me bits and pieces about politics, arts, how people live... I asked her if she missed it. Of course, she replied, but she'd always wanted to come to Germany. In school she had the choice between English and German. She was one of three pupils who chose German. When I wanted to know why (after all, English is the one language that makes things a lot easier in life for all of us), she looked at me with surprise. Because Germany has produced some of the greatest minds and artists! What a question, her face seemed to say. Musicians and philosophers, too. She had studied German because she had always wanted to read German literature. Not translations. The real deal.

Had she read the Germany philosophers, I asked. Some of them. Nietzsche she liked best. Although, and here she looked a bit puzzled, she doesn't understand why he so dislikes the old greek philosophers. They weren't bad, after all!

So tonight I need to write myself a note: Don't put people into convenient little boxes with convenient little labels. They might express their thoughts in funny ways and naive language. But at the same time they might be more widely read than I ever will be.

.................

Hanna, my favorite sister, you won yesterday's advent gift. You don't need to write me your address, it's one of three I actually know by heart.

To any of you who are new to this blog: There is a continuing giveaway until the 24th of December. Every day I give one little present to one of you readers. If you want to enter the draw, leave a comment each day on that day's post.

it's 11:40 pm and if I had a wish...

Lord, it's 23:40 - no, please correct that. It's 23:44. 11:44 pm. I'm working and I'm exhausted. I hope you are well, though.

If I had one wish, a professional wish, you know, not the kind of wish that kind of warrants the answer 'world peace'. Just a working person's wish, I would please kindly ask for the ability to plan ahead. Or to just let it go sometimes.

If there could be a ban on new ideas before trade fairs that would greatly improve my sleep pattern also. Could we install that, let's say, two weeks before each trade fair?

That would give me the time to finish all the projects I already have going on.

I wouldn't be loosing sleep because of new projects that might or might not get finished before the fair.

Which is Sunday, by the way.

Possibly maybe if I promise to be good for, let's say a week?

Two weeks? No?

(hoping for a) quiet moment

What do you do when every possible surface in ones apartment

- and I do repeat: every possible surface - is covered in things to print, glue, make or finish?

Well, you weave a way between your kitchen and your sofa, sit down with a beer,

knit quietly and silently, fervently, pray that it may pass until next you sneak a look.

a riddle

Can you guess?

Ok, here goes the explanation:

At the beginning of March I shall take a flight to India where I will spend three weeks. It's exciting and completely new and the Hindi words I'm trying to learn just seem to tumble out of my head as soon as I try to twist my mind around them.

But nothing, I tell you, could be as exciting and unnerving as the search for my passport. Because when I went to my local passport office (Located in a highly spooky place that used to be a hospital in the 19th century. Frankly not the most trust-inspiring place on a cold January day.) I was told by a very kind passport lady that I already had a passport, valid until twothousandandmany.

Aha, thought I. How nice. The question is just: Where?

Of course the thing was right where I suspected it was, only that I never trust myself, and even less so when it comes to being organized. So the place I thought it must be was the last one I searched.

Does that make sense? It did when I was searching.

But oh, the gratification of finding it, and right where I thought it would be! Delightful, really. King Arthur could not have been happier, had he found the Holy Grail.

And what about the pincushion, you might ask.

Well, dear friends, when you travel to India you need an awful lot of shots against an awful lot of awful illnesses. Even more shots than I thought, and I already suspected the worst. 8 Shots in three weeks, starting today. Swiss cheese will be nothing against my holi-ness in the end, and I strongly suspect my left arm will have to amputated tomorrow. Who knew Tetanus and Hepatitis B hurt so much even when you don't get them?!

Did I mention I love a good chance to be dramatic?

The road goes ever on and on

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

 

J.R.R. Tolkien

 

 

A very happy New Year to you all! I hope you all celebrated and style. And I wish every one of you that whatever you begin may be successfull and that what you wish for may come true.

I seem to remember that I made a list of things I would have liked to achieve this last year, and I do know that most of those things never got done.

A couple of days ago I stumbled over a 'poem for New Year's Eve' by Erich Kästner that states 'we should not put too heavy a load on the new year', because like a sick horse it might break down under too much weight. And the more plans we make, the more difficult their realisation becomes.

So this year I'm pretending to be wise.

I'll just do the best I can.

 

 

Late at night (Advent calendar giveaway, day 14)

Usually the myth of that 'calm and quiet Christmas' makes me laugh. Who's ever had one of those? 

It's only late at night, with that sugar frosting of snow out there that I at least understand the principle.

---

LeeAnn, you're yesterday's lucky Advent calendar gift winner. Will you write me an email with your address, please?

the different forms of happiness

It has been a year now that I'm home, and I can see, looking back on this blog's poor history, that it has been a blog-it-easy year for Lineanongrata. I must thank you all for sticking with me. It's a constant pleasure for me, to be able to connect to so many people.

Over the last couple of years, as my life kept changing, I have defined this space very differently at times. It sure is a lot easier to tell a funny story when you basically live with four big burly men who secretly fill each other's backpacks with chestnuts or tape mousetraps on each others cars doorhandles.

It sure was easier to take beautiful photos in the South of France, where there was always sun and light.

This has been a year of many changes for me. I have tried to tell a fancy little story or have an illustration ready for each post I presented here. But it's not working really well, is it? So I'd like to take this space in another direction again, at least partially. I would very much like to show you where I live now, in photos as well as in illustrations, and I would like to share the small things that make my day and eventually my weeks.

It's probably going to be like notes instead of stories. But it should give me the chance to be here more often.

The 'Food for thought' project is taking place more than ever, recipes have started to arrive (and I still owe so many of you a heartfelt thanks for that) and there has been a very important addition to the project, too.

But for tonight, I'd like to share just a few photos of the space and the things I have created around me here in Berlin so far. Making a space a home is more work than I thought.

But as more and more things fall into place, curtains get made, spaces are being defined and routines are being found, I am so very very happy.

Sometimes I pause during my day, look around and see all the things that I have, and the things I can make or draw, and I'm so grateful.

When I walk the streets of Berlin, and be they oh-so-grizzly grey and rainy, I am happy to be here. Sometimes I have to refrain from doing a little two-step in the middle of the subway or on the street somewhere, or in the shopping mall around the corner.

Because I am so happy.

When I run, longer and longer distances, and my body obeys, I am violently, savagely happy to become the athlete I have wanted to be for so long.

But what really makes me giddy with happiness is when I see my friends and part with a 'see you soon', or watch their kids for a night or when I don't see my best friend when I'm at my parent's place, and it doesn't really matter because we'll see each other again, really soon.

food for thought

Years ago my mother dug out some very very old cookbooks we have apparently inherited from our grandmothers. They are written in old German and it gives me a headache to read them (the 's' look like 'f', which if really funny when you read a text with lotf of fs').

At first I didn't understand her fascination with the old books. For one, they're dusty and don't seem like hygenic paraphenalia to have around the kitchen. Second, there are basically no images in them. No mouthwatering photos to help me decide what to cook. How on earth am I to know whether or not I might like 'Sauce Robert' for example, just by reading a recipe?!

But they grow on you, these old books. For example the 'good butter' some recipes call for is endearing. And the fact that everything was used to make food, even broccoli stems (for soup. With a dollop of the good cream, if you have any available) is a lesson to learn and tells a story about how life was when these books were written. How very rich have we become as societies, that no cookbook today has any recipe for broccoli stems, because there is so much broccoli available all the time?!

But food doesn't only connect us to the past. It's almost magical to be able to discuss the breakfast cereal bars both Tracy and I made (the recipe was from smitten kitchen, if I remember right), or to try out Sarah's recipe for lemon curd. Both Tracy and Sarah live in the USA and I have never met them in person.

The project I announced last week, the one I would ask your help for, is about food. I would like to share via food. Or recipes, in this case.

I would like to ask you to write down your favorite recipe and share it with me, via eamil or the comment section here on the blog. If there is a story connected to the recipe, even better. If there is any reason this one recipe is more important than others, and you are willing to tell why, that would be fabulous. I would collect these recipes and illustrate them, make them into the 'Food for thought cookbook' (giving credit to the writer of each recipe, of course).

It would be lovely if we could make part of this cookbook into a free pdf download so that we can share even with those who can't afford to buy a cookbook right now. But I'd also like to print the book, sell it and donate the money to an organization that helps people in need. Maybe an organization that feeds people, although I'm pretty partial to 'Médecins du Monde' or the Red Cross (always get the feeling they know what they're doing).

That way we could share goodness in more than one way. With each other and also with those who need help right now.

What do you think? Will you help me?

 

ps: Dear Mama, you are more than welcome to participate, but you must promise to include the secret ingredient you always leave out, please.