tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24291872434529201692011-12-14T17:56:34.219ZGativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.comBlogger241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-51980899946468249462011-09-19T17:12:00.004+01:002011-09-19T17:59:47.857+01:00

Last year for my birthday I received a whole box of various art supplies, including an easel and a set of acrylic paint, which I never used before. I actually asked for that myself, inspired by a then recent trip to France, where every corner of the most distant mountain village was cramped with art (both good and bad). Then my upbringing (read perfectionism) took over and the box remained

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-78654799561231974092011-09-15T22:54:00.000+01:002011-09-15T22:54:39.045+01:00

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Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-72679394736451422162011-08-29T00:51:00.014+01:002011-08-30T13:44:57.950+01:00

Moore street is like a different country plunged into the middle of Dublin. You turn from O'Connell street, with its nice shops, clean pavement and English speech into the wilderness of foreign everything - faces, tongues, smells and looks. Markets are open, streets smell of fish, people are black or asian, women are pretty and exotic, and the air is filled with a mixture of curry, baked bread

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-23274945382228035942011-06-22T19:10:00.003+01:002011-08-29T23:30:11.118+01:00

It has taken me years of struggle, hard work and research to learn to make one simple gesture, and I know enough about the art of writing to realize that it would take as many years of concentrated effort to write one simple, beautiful sentence. Isadora Duncan Rex Levitates by Nadia Gativa I generally am not mad about contemporary dancing. Generally because it is either too contemporary,

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-58599450911175639722011-06-10T01:03:00.002+01:002011-06-10T01:22:44.033+01:00

I was reading a story once (can't remember what it was exactly) that had those three poems after some of the chapters...around the same time I discovered a Spanish singer Bebe and watched the "Room in Rome"by Julio Medem. It just created a particular mood, maybe not something I can express in words exactly but worth sharing anyway. Oh, yeah, and I love women with nice shoulders wearing white

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-69725445431385853452011-03-24T23:00:00.001Z2011-03-24T23:01:48.864Z

This monologue comes from my pre-notes for a script about a strange relationship between a photographer and his model. photo by Elizabeth Brooke When was the first time you realized that you are not beautiful? Do you remember that moment? Or maybe you didn’t have it? I did. I remember. Some psychologist wrote that it is the most painful experience for any growing girl. The moment when you

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-3792600668885718282011-02-23T01:52:00.005Z2011-02-23T02:31:58.155Z

A week after Valentine's...I got my heart-shaped box of Belgian chocolates today straight from the airport, so it inspired me to do some post-Valentine posting. And I found my last year's film photo. Valentine's coffee  First is A's monologue from the play "Crave" by Sarah Kane. Found it in my notes from the creative writing course but can't remember what exactly we discussed that day...

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-83854517558822765212011-02-09T22:16:00.003Z2011-02-23T02:23:55.325Z

- Hey, how come you don't sparkle? 
- Because I live in the real world where vampires burn in the sun. 
(Vampire Diaries) After courageously surviving a small and non-painful surgery on my head (no, not lobotomy) I granted myself a present of a new sketchbook and a vampire calendar, which keeps surprising me with some amazing quotes and insight into vampire daily life. One boring evening after

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-25215437310521135722010-11-28T21:50:00.003Z2011-02-23T01:55:20.722Z

On long evenings and waitings, what-ifs and would-yous. Evening in a pub Pool tableGreen velvetSix mince piesAnd two leather gloves Nerves stableOne big secretWhite liesAnd a bit of scrub Tea finishedEvening draggingYou are still workingAnd warm fire in the pub Looking overThrough my hairWill you noticeWill you? Pool Table Three colours on greenRed, White and YellowChasing each otherPushed

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-55478569779722037202010-11-10T02:18:00.089Z2011-02-21T00:28:11.639Z

“One good guy dies and goes to heaven. It’s quite empty and boring there, so, after a hundred years, he decides to visit hell for a day. Hell is great fun - full of his friends, alcohol and women, and the guy is treated like a celebrity.He goes back to heaven happy but after another hundred years gets bored again and takes a second trip to hell. It’s even better now, full of interesting people

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-79322095515545440512010-10-10T02:07:00.001+01:002010-10-11T22:43:07.005+01:00

Found some more stuff from my creative writing course. A few poems that sort of wrote themselves while I was painfully trying to come up with narrative on the set topics. Trip to the Underworld Underbelly of the world -Yellow-sticky and smellyLike fish cut open with insides hanging outWe trail the steps of those before usLeaving steps for those after usThe

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-59455176749226293682010-08-10T23:50:00.009+01:002010-08-11T00:31:28.510+01:00

The first assignment today was to imagine yourself as a boat or a car or a plane that is coming back from a long journey and having a first glimpse of home. If home is a place where you lived the most – then I’ve forgotten mine, so many cities passed me. If home is a place where you were created – then I abandoned it a long time ago. If home is a place where you feel the best – then mind is

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-66878966900242948042010-07-30T21:20:00.015+01:002010-07-31T00:18:23.509+01:00

Having a sinfully good cup of cappuccino in our office (hotel)...my friend on facebook comments on my status about Paolo Nutini and Beirut coming with concerts to Ireland. I mention that I’m ready to rob a bank to see them. Tribal fusion dancers have a special love for Beirut music – it’s incredibly danceable, as if created for our style.Polly: “I’d rob the bank for them too…Say hi to the lead

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-76315323099060018732010-07-29T17:22:00.023+01:002010-07-29T22:37:53.520+01:00

After lunch was devoted to talking about fairy tales. We were advised to take one we like the most and revamp it, turn it into a poem, make it into comedy or just change in any possible way. For some reason, I always thought that some fairy tales were just good cover up for the reality people lived in. So, Beauty and the Beat, for instance, is just an allegory for forced marriages in the past.

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-86554900277297788052010-07-28T19:35:00.004+01:002010-07-29T22:33:13.422+01:00

First assignment for the new day was devoted to elements. Fire, Water, Air or Earth. Pick one and describe your associations or feelings or whatever comes into your mind. As usual, pre-coffee assignments don’t go well for me. I have to put a coma or pause every time I think of coffee, so it turns into enumeration. I pick the element that is closest to my nature, most represented in my

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-81545867097269634312010-07-28T17:41:00.009+01:002010-11-11T01:55:03.008Z

We began with reading today. Something not great but with structure. This is one of the most difficult things for ‘creative’ writers who, like many modern artists, think that creation should have no limits or rules which in many cases results in some uncontrollable Jackson Pollocky word vomit a hundred pages long. So, we played a game at the end of the previous class. We all made three

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-32378313150062058902010-07-20T14:43:00.018+01:002010-07-29T22:36:52.369+01:00

My creative writing course in IADT is over - one week of sleepy morning scribbles, coffee diet and a new sense of freedom. It started with me being dragged out of bed at 9.30. The course began at 10 am. Grumpy I was...The first task was (to wake up) to describe the objects on the table. While others (judging by the look on their literary faces) plunged into flowery long associations, I did the

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-87392969848876814662010-06-13T13:49:00.008+01:002010-06-14T23:17:04.278+01:00

My short film script is long time written and lying there waiting to be rewritten now. "The Photographer" isn't inspiring much any more, its characters asleep - Xenia half-frozen with her own photo in hand, Eric not decided if he's gay or not, and the photographer stuck in her darkroom by the wall of obsession. The French boutique is closed and women in the art gallery are faiding in the air. One

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-75543533361634018352009-11-29T19:18:00.001Z2009-11-29T19:18:38.924Z

Very raw choreo...i actually thought it was pretty crap, but still good to see your mistakes and learn from it. Lovely music thought, OST to Vampire's Assistant and Beirut.

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-71489356407649258162009-11-21T15:11:00.001Z2009-11-21T15:11:20.397Z

Most amazing combination of contemporary dance and tribal bellydance! I'd love to study and dance with this group...

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-26045893883179247282009-10-31T01:25:00.001Z2009-10-31T01:25:09.067Z

just found me dancing at the kid's party...damn, i look 15, scared and i sing to the lyrics :DDD disaster! the worst thing - when the kids screamed i thought maybe my bra was falling of !

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-66751789149371666692009-09-04T23:24:00.013+01:002009-09-05T00:46:00.032+01:00

*Grumpy grumbles of a foreigner suffering from cultural shock*Three things never change when you fly to Ireland – the plane is full of non-Irish crying babies, you land next to a field of cows, and it’s always pissing rain. From the warmth of Russian summer (funny but it’s +25 there) I go to the lifestyle of jacket-over-scarf-over-long sleeve. Heck, I’m even wearing thermals for the first time

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-82757419499142228882009-07-30T12:35:00.011+01:002009-07-30T19:17:22.094+01:00

Watched "The Lost Embraces" recently. Almadovar is his amazing genius self, even if this work was a bit different from the previous ones. The film leaves a very subtle aftertaste, nothing dramatic but still powerful - it sort of sinks into you. I found it more mature than his other films - less kitch and even sex looks so realistic it's almost ugly. The reason I love maestro Almadovar is simple

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429187243452920169.post-1326440381082384272009-07-26T20:22:00.006+01:002009-07-30T18:33:10.590+01:00

I don't really know how people start writing blogs. I have 6 paper diaries so far, so, why not add a lucky 7 one?This pictures by Fabian Perez reminds me of Buenos Aires, though I have never been there, which probably makes it much better.Since this cafe isn't about eating or smoking or drinking coffee (how was it - my personal type of cocaine?), I just post the poem that keeps memories of BA

Gativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12820551178190657992noreply@blogger.com3