About The idea

"If it's simple simple, it's boring. We try for the idea that is so simple that it will make you think and rethink." (Saul Bass, the man who made film titles into stars)

Lovable detail: inserting a graffiti heart with the initials of him and his lover in the closing credits of "West Side Story".

Astro Boy

So I find the Digital Cat, a Brit-Jap ”mashable" manga of modern future Japan. Mixture flavor British satirists tradition and an original story by Natsume Soseki, first published in serialized form between 1905 - 06.
Quick fact about manga it is mentioned when you download it (in limited edition still) here: have you had a crossing thought, "it is influenced by American popular culture and in its contemporary form emerged during the years of the occupation, after the second World War, but the antecedents will be traced back centuries to wartime, propaganda posters, woodblock prints, or ancient scroll drawings." It worths mention, that of course is one view about manga's history.

That from Reimagining Japan, global leaders and experts' insights edited by McKinsey&Company, and on their website, more contributions are expected through a student essay contest.

And then the Digital Cat says: "Humans made everything dark, not technology. I'm a genuine technological marvel. I'm my master's ears, eyes and brain."

Am I never shutting down until blue fatal error? By all means let me restart at this moment.

And though Digital Cat is fun, this corporate book will speak in its own language but the history will follow its own course in that beautiful land of people.

edward scissorhands

Kim: Hold me.
Edward: I can't.

like an edward of scissorhands he cut the paper wrapped around the snowglobe inside. he would then blink and go to dream for half an hour under a tree, carefree of the stripes on the glass temple.

The Legion of the Extraordinary Dancers

It is true that there are people with super powers. Dancers are in this aspect 100% real to accept within your eyes' power. The superpowered heroes characters of the webseries, wall of inspiration at TEDs.

And the ocean grew from a sunflower seed

"Standing before it, we look out over an immeasurable, fathomless grey sea.
But the moment when you step on it, your relationship to what lies beneath your feet changes. Each crunching footstep merely displaces a thin layer at the top of the pile. Our weight leaves no impression on the millions and millions of seeds beneath our feet."

Rapunzel II

And then sometimes, while walking, my chest hurts and I almost stumble over my right foot while the piano merges with the violins. That’s when I don’t see so much more the people around wandering to their usual businesses which I found so non-amusing. I see much more. Characters and long haired heroes, stories that cross out the universe, smiles that pierce into your soul or long staring eyes, fierce landscapes crashing the urban sites, moving scenery to dream feverishly. You’d wish to sketch out on the second or scream “photo moment” with the same impulse but not same posture as a painter, to capture and preserve them, like the most precious gifts.
Might be as you are always on the run to capture time. Win or lose, take a bet, black or white, where’s the jackpot, always trying to defeat time, tell him “Look, I know now, in this very moment where I am, and I will keep that forever, nothing will change, it will be like this forever”. Then you smile, or time is frozen, who can tell.
Everything is right in front of my eyes, a fairy tale world created by my mind – this if one can truthfully say that he’s the master of his world mind, might be you the alchemist keeping in secret his golden dust the one to clearly say it. Sometimes I see what mind soundtrack enables me with some emotion dust to design on the spot, on the rock. Then, with a shiver, one just crosses the street.

Rapunzel I

Sometimes when I’m walking through the streets with an obsessive musical theme on my green ears, I’m looking to the buildings and people like they are some cartoons. Like we are some little persons that some massive puppeteer had drawn to entertain himself. I imagine there must be more - much more - beyond those walls, those streets, those enormous and often hideous architectural objects. Maybe it was all designed one morning, coffee time, on some napkin. And here you got, your toy city, small boxes with pieces of life inside.

I have built my personal world and you need a cosmic passport

Wassily Kandinsky, Transverse line, 1923. 

In centrul Pompidou exista un loc secret la etajul 4. Este o terasa deschisa larg publicului, dar secreta pentru ca nu toata lumea intelege miracolul panoramic de perspectiva care schimba timpul si te transpune automat si pe nepregatite in Parisul inceputului de secol XX. Aglomeratia si multiculorile diforme dispar cu desavarsire intr-un ton gri de acoperis cu mansarde de tineri scriitori saraci.  

Apoi a fost Metropotalitan Art Museum in new york unde, la unul din etaje, exista o gaura neagra. Acolo Kandinsky se joaca cu textura si culoarea sunetelor si greutatea miscarilor si a emotiilor. Daca esti inghitit de locul ascuns, minute in sir vei vedea lumea homeric pana iti vei reveni. "Nu putem cauta refugiu doar intr-una din forme.(...)Pentru ca nu ar spune nimic." Kandinsky.

 

"Many types of stories taking place in this world. I'm gonna make a new place, my creation and your symbol. Hey, your gentle form stirs up my heart. Your back is too pretty, just like A wild butterfly". (from akanishi&ueda)

silent tsunami & roentgen stories

In dimineata asta ai hotarat ca toata plaja e doar a ta si ai inventat o limba pe care o vorbesti doar tu. Sunetele aduc a izbituri de valuri infuriate la mal, iar gramatica si aritmetica frazelor se bazeaza pe sincopele secundelor intre un val care isi ia avant si un altul care se prabuseste la picioarele tale aducandu-ti drept ofranda o alga.  Intr-o silaba ai cuprins imagini, culori si povesti intregi si pentru prima oara nu mai trebuie sa distrugi sutele de secunde pretioase aflate in proprietatea ta Doar dupa ce au trecut - pentru a te explica. Limba ta e acum gri pentru ca e furtuna dar poate fi albastra ca in Okinawa si infinita pentru ca acolo exista oameni care se hranesc doar cu marea si traiesc sute de ani. Cu coada ochiului vei vedea cum se apropie o turma de troli galagiosi si curiosi si vei afla ca e momentul in care ei vor sa-ti desprinda masca si sa iti fure mecanismul secret pentru a te transforma intr-unul de-al lor, utopic nesingur si perfect uniform. Vei crede ca un tsunami va fi suficient pentru a le tine un discurs catastrofal si a-i matura cu un urlet.  Dar uneori valurile strang tot fundul marii in interior, deseneaza dimensiuni uluitoare, isi construiesc scenarii de distrugere si dominare a plajei si totusi la final renunta, cu gemete insesizabile. Devin roentgen stories sau pleaca in largul oceanului pentru un concert care poate fi auzit si inteles numai de valuri ca ele. 

the 86.400 seconds of one day

He never answers to his coach obsessive question: "What is your deepest fear?"

And then, after struggle, he knows : "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were all meant to shine. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." (Coach Carter' story)

Later edit, OST glimpse, pentru atmosfera - the cheerleading very cool stuff: All night long.

Relive : let's breathe together

Maine, pe stadionul Iolanda Balas Soter, se proiecteaza concertul lui Michael Jackson - Live in Bucharest: 1992  (mtv.ro)

Un ochi blond si unul albastru

Oamenii blonzi sunt mai blanzi. Poate nu toti, dar oamenii blonzi, slabuti si uneori tristi sunt mai blanzi. Poate nu toti, dar oamenii blonzi, slabuti, uneori tristi si care se plimba cu o oglinda prin stuful Deltei sunt mai blanzi. Specia lor cauta povesti cu pescari spre dimineti si vor sa vada marea dar cineva ii sperie ca sunt caini rai pe drum. Ei cara pietre in spate, ca de moara, dar vor sa rapeasca acele imagini pe care tu, in fotoliul tau urban cu cu radacini de trotuar, le vei privi mai tarziu, pentru a te simti mai usor. Macar cu cateva grame de liniste.

Specia mea se intalneste la 3 dimineata cu siluete de taur si coarne care lucesc in lumina lunii si se sperie. Suficient pentru a privi rasaritul din fotoliul de paie cu o patura in cap. Iar dimineata iti dai seama ca taurul nu era nici bou ci doar o vacuta. Lasata de izbeliste de un satean care se bucura la un meci de fotbal.

Si apoi te enervezi pe parul tau ciufulit si il vrei si tu blond pentru ca oamenii blonzi sunt mai blanzi. Sau asa se spune.

Si pentru ca am vazut la Irene imi plac si mie fotografiile de aici.

Crazy---inspiration

Best piece of dance I've ever seen.

Apocalipsa personala

Intr-o zi, la distanta de oceane si munti, te trezesti smuls de pe raftul pe care tronai si etichetat intr-un sertaras ca un borcan de medicamente cu gust de ulei de peste. Si dintr-un tablou care domina sufrageria devii un obiect prafuit, mic si indiferent, ascuns, nici macar aruncat la gunoi ci la carpele vechi de care nu scapam niciodata. Intr-o alta zi, oglinda deformata in care te-ai vazut diform, mic si urat, clipeste si rastalmaceste renegarea ta completa pana la dezmembrare prin praful zilelor si figurile altor oglindiri. Si te minte frumos cu sunet de flaut ca le-ar fi spus ca totusi tu existi. Si realitatea se coloreaza dupa bunul plac al sticlei insensibile. Si atunci, uneori, asculti toate variantele lui Insensatez in timp ce iti cauti propriul Angkor Wat.

L'homme sans tête

Acest scurt-metraj, unul din cele mai frumoase pe care le-am vazut probabil, mi-a fost trimis de acea persoana cu care as fi vrut, macar o data, sa imbrac o rochie de bal si sa dansez ca in primele scene superbe ale filmului. Exact ca si personajul, care incearca cu disperare sa isi gaseasca un cap potrivit, tot ce i-am spus vazandu-l, nu se potrivea deloc cu ce era in interior. Gura nu se misca, spranceana nu se putea ridica, ochii erau imobili. Nu iesea nimic din ce as fi vrut cu adevarat sa se intample. Nu se potrivea. Si totusi, poate tot ce ar fi trebuit sa spun, chiar si fara cap, sau cu imaginea de azi care, reflectata in oglinda lui, este doar golul a altadata, ar fi fost: "Dansam?" Dar muzica nu ar fi pornit niciodata.

L'homme sans tête, premiul la Cannes 2003, aici.