Shivering in Hull? (Warning to "very conservative children": Film will show painted naked people)

I just  read a book by Virginia Ironside, very amusing, about getting older (and the fun of it). Included is a chapter called: "Boring for Britain."
Now I found another hobby people can indulge in: Shivering for Britain.
See: I discovered an article in the Guardian: more than 3.ooo people in East Yorkshire this morning took part in an Art project in Hull, by photographer Spencer Tunick. Naked, their bodies were painted blue and green, (and maybe the the cold at 3 am has deepened the hue of blue?). One man, 80 now, is part of his installations for the 20th time.

"He said he did get a little chilly during the shoot, but added it was nothing compared to Tunick’s installation in Dublin in the summer of 2008. “That was frightening,” he said. “My children are very conservative. They don’t think it’s totally proper to have their father’s butt on a museum wall, but I love it.” Janssen said it will be the last time he takes part in one of Tunick’s works."  The Guardian 

Imagine: the shot took about 3 hours!

Change of Perspective

Sometimes you get stuck in a rut. (Or I, to be more precise).
Miss the forest for the trees.
After an exhibition on "Harry Graf Kessler - Flaneur through Modern Era" we needed a coffee. Harry was such a restless Dandy, knowing so many  people - Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker, Henry van der Velde, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Nietzsche, to name just a few. He connected people. Diaries of 10.000 pages - a man full of seemingly contradictions, political and cultural,
So we sat in front of Starbucks with full view of the Brandenburger Tor (between the columns tarpaulins - behind them the fan park for the European Football Championship) and the sun was shining like mad. No shade, no parasols.
But I wanted a coffee (so much that I even accepted Starbucks').
And so I changed perspective.
I had an umbrella in my handbag - and used it the Japanese way: saved!
I'd never expected that at this stage of my life I would often have to say: "...for the first time in my life!" Surprise! (though the whole last year sometimes teeth-gnashingly, wiping away a tear).
Voluntarily or not: after doing it I suddenly feel - vulnerable in a pleasant way, alive.
Side benefit: I see solutions. So I say:
"If you brexit, my friends - I'll change perspective. You leave - so I will come. In August."
Looking forward! Westward Ho!  

Solace

"for the young at heart". Everytime I think about age and growing older, I know where to go to when it really frightens me: I walk off those disagreable feelings by going for a stroll through the beautiful park of Schloss Charlottenburg.
And nature teaches me that everything is relative, and depends utterly on your point of view.
Here you see a Bald cypress in the middle of the photo.
And the very consoling text on a chart about it starts with the words:

"Despite its youthful age of only 225 years, ..."  

Ha, ain't that good news??

Countenance

Dear You, 
Can you see it?
At least in the shop windows of Germany there are more and more mannequins standing slumped (I can hear my late mother's voice: "Stand tall!" Not easy when you are 14 and 1.78m tall).
By now I know that standing tall is a wonderful way to look ten years younger - but the puppets don't need that, because then they would have to sit in a pram...
No, really: they crouch! I "collect" with my camera window mannequins for decades. And think about them.
For example: You have every reason on earth to be VERY worried if they change their expression from normal "haughty" ("Don't dare to enter this shop, you louse!")

to "smiling".
If they smile, economics will be very, very bad.
And now there are those sapless stooping ones.
The only interpretation I can think of:
most people nowadays walk and stare into their smartphone at the same time - "BUMP!!!" "Oh, sorry!" --- they bend their heads, even when standing somewhere (they might miss one of those ingenious super-special breathtaking news that drop in every second :-)
And the window puppets are always a mirror, mirror on the wall.

I can't control myself...

Susan Flett-Swiderski made me think of the Troggs (just can't control myself :-):
Happy week-end to all of you!

No Comment Moderation

Dear You , 
You might have noticed that I - quite unusual for my blog - had installed "comment moderation" for two days.
No - no vicious comments had come in - the only reason was that on my blog www.burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.com I had overlooked a helpful comment by Mr. Sackerson for quite a while - so sorry! And I thought that with comment moderation on I might be reminded of a new answer.
But I find it too inconvenient - so: everybody is free to say what he/she wants.
Without comment moderation -
and, as I know you all quite well: moderation will not be an issue :-)

Urban Sketchers

Dear You, 

A few weeks ago I bought an interesting book about Urban Sketchers.
Since then you find in my bag not only lipstick, handkerchief and comb, but also a little sketchbook and at least one pencil. I enjoy sitting on a bench and drawing what I see: it forces me to look more precise, and is a bit like meditation.
I draw the line with sketching people: I don't. Can't. Won't. (They tell you to do it when you sit in the underground - hahaha: I think you won't sit there unmolested very long. I wouldn't want to be sketched by other people either).
Same as with photographs: I often visit photo exhibitions, and of course I look interested at photos of people - often in black-and-white. But I wouldn't do it.
I see a lot of situations that would make good snap-shots. BUT I think it is impolite.
One has to respect everybody's private sphere, I think. And I mean everybody's.
I observed a tourist who went to the big fountain on the Wittenbergplatz where a young man sat hunched in an unnatural pose. Sunken, in a way. The tourist took out his smartphone, took a photo - and went away! I was shocked. Neared tentatively - I'm not a fool, I am urban-wise - but this young man might be sick - and was quite relieved that a heavily built Turk neared too. He touched the young man kindly, spoke two or three words with him - and then we looked at each other, relieved: the youngster only had drunk a bit too much.
I think that it is important to look at 'things' not only through a photolense - that reminds me of Andersen's fairy-tale about the snow queen who had that icy splinter in her heart/eye - but with compassion.
That puts everything into the right perspective, I think.
For drawing I just practise that: perspective.

The scent of Linden makes the bees pot-headed...

Dear You, 
first week of June over - and no entry here!
If you come to Berlin: this would be a perfect time. The Linden (lime) are openening their millions of little flowers, soak the warm (well: at the moment: very hot) air, make your head giddy, make your soul sing with joy, your whole being can bathe in it - gorgeous!
(You see: it really gets me too :-)
And for a day that might not be filled with that natural drug, yesterday I bought a reminder in a bottle: at "Frau Toni's" near Checkpoint Charly they produce a room-perfume "Linde". Normally I abstain from all these scented things for the house - but this is simply great.
(A month ago I found there a real perfume - for me to wear - which contains a lot of "violet". It was the favourite perfume of Marlene Dietrich. Violet is very difficult to get in Germany - I told you that I found a sufficiently nice whiff in my preferred perfume 'Balenciaga - Paris". And now I found out, that Serge Lutens, who works for Shiseido and on his own, has created a very deep violet perfume, too - but: he only (!!!) sells it in Paris, in his own shop.
So:
one good reason more to go to Paris.
On the other hand: I would feel becoming dangerously near to an excentric man, whom I truly and deeply despised when I was young: an arrogant dilettante cook, Wolfram Siebeck. In the early Eighties he wrote that he 'always hopped on a plane to Paris' - every time he needed the little "haricots verts" (those very slim beans, almost as slim as knitting needles) - not available in Germany then.
At that time, hearing it I thought furiously about lamp posts and 'cake for hungry people'-quotes, and revolution, (later my mother's blue blood diluted all that and made me more gentle).
I hope that there are thousands of other good reasons to go to Paris - as many and as intoxicating as the scent of lime-flowers.

My Balconysitter

Dear You, 
oh yes, I have one when I plan a travel: a balconysitter - and I am utterly glad about that!
See: Berlin has seen no rain for over a month. Trees are thirsty. And on my balcony - which is quite huge: 5 metres x 1.60m - there are lots and lots of flowering plants. One of my 5 roses has already opened three flowers:

Augusta Luise - not only beautiful, but with a luscious scent that makes you swoon!
I sit in the early morning there and drink my first cup of tea. And am reassured now, because the young guy will have time to water my flowers (I/he/the flowers need about 5 cans with 5 litre water per day). When I am in Budapest, it is a nice little job for him, and a godsend for me.

Above you see about half of my balcony. Time for a little mouthful? You're welcome! 

The World's Economy - explained with just two (blogs) cows

Dear You, 
at the moment - you feel it, with that hopping between my own blogs - I am a bit restless.
Might be the influence of spring?
I shouldn't do that. When a company gets too big, too much diversification makes everybody hectic and stressed, and one loses track of the real important things.
So back again to Berlin letters, solely - and http://burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.de/, of course - because that is quite a different cup of tea.
I'll drink that tea, calm down, and study the following very funny lesson in economics -

http://9gag.com/gag/aXXoWA6/the-world-s-economy-explained-with-just-two-cows

 with just two Blogs cows!             

"Rise and Shine" - Revisited.

As some of you have found out already, I have reanimated my blog "Rise and Shine!" - because at the moment I have so much work to do, that I just have time to scribble down a few impressions - without photos. Just to stay in contact with you and your blogs. 
(And to learn how to keep a text short!) Hope to see you.

High-flying

Dear You, 

I stare at the many posts of you that I have missed. So sorry!
I look out of the window and see that the swallows are back.
I swallow hard.
The last weeks were - wonderous. Unreal. Now it is time to land back on earth (a very appropriate metaphor - can you imagine that I - yes: I! - steered an airplane? A Cessna - and of course with a pilot at my side. It were some of the most glorious 20 minutes of my life - I love, love, love to fly (but will not start taking lessons).
And then I drove through the sunny countryside with a Jaguar Mark II - creamwhite and red leather seats.
Well - and now I'm back to everyday life.
Which is less uneventful at the moment, but beautiful and reassuring too.
The syringa starts to flower, enveloping whole streets into dark, beguiling deep lilac perfumes.
Reminds me of a poem by Gottfried Benn: 

Bar 

Lilac in lathy vases, 
hanging lamps, hushed light, 
and the Yanks go wild, 
when the singer speaks ... 

I have roughly translated the first stanza of this poem (1953) for you - the second one is a mixture of American and German, and maybe I will pluck up courage and translate it on my poetry blog www.burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.de.
Demands the same courage as to steer a plane...