cool songs that could open a movie but actually never did

In movies, the opening song is a promise. It sets the mood, the pace, it elevates our expectations to crazy heights. The first tune can be slow indie, fast folk, catchy pop or experimental electro – the important thing is it translates the movie vibe even before the images strike. So here is the playlist of all these amazing tracks that could open a movie but actually never did.

Just imagine the endless script versions as you're listening.

broncho - class historian

james brown - the boss

boris vian - honeysuckle rose

the virgins - hey hey girl

jackson scott - together forever

neil young - walk on

darondo - luscious lady

belle & sebastian - piazza, new york catcher

marlena shaw - california soul

directorsound - pork & honey

i look close and see nothing and that is frustrating

The closer I look at something, the more blurry it becomes. It is not just about the sense of sight; it is about our whole lives.

There are moments when I want to grasp so much and I end up understanding completely nothing. Sometimes I focus and I feel the idea or concept surpasses my intelligence. I want to be smart, who doesn’t? And then, I end up trying to take in all the information found, yet it doesn not soak into the grounds of my mind. There is a barricade inside my head that emerges at every moment of conscious concentration and openness. It is a house I am closed in and the doors are shut and windows closed and I cannot understand there are spaces unlimited.

This also applies to emotion. A blockade of feelings just right when I was about to absorb all from the outside – the colours and forms, the smell of wood and the softness of fabrics, the beauty and complete mediocrity.

And then I feel the grief growing on me. I start to think about the people, if they experience their own minds closing from them, separating the inner universe of their own selves. Seeing things vividly without looking might help and I need to try. If it helps I shall be relieved.

After a while, I realize life is simpler than that. No, it’s actually not. It should be.That’s something I need to accept.

he just splashed the canvas and art was being created

Was it so? The Virgina-born large-scale painter Cy Twombly, whose name seems as abstract as his works, exploited technique of gestural drawing. Fascinated by finest classicism and mythology, he translated tradition to modern language that seems by no means more legible than the ancient stories of gods and symbolic creatures. In all its lyricism, the art of Twombly is contemporary to the core. That means it’s double vague and stimulating.

Look at it, the canvas swamped by strokes of paint in colours reminiscent of impressionists’ palette, ravaging idealistic forms with their fortuity. Think of it, the artworks that is supposed to express something, it has a title and a concept behind, I may not understand it. Feel it, depending on level of sensitivity and aesthetical preference, shiver in amazement, tremble with indignation.    

the playlist of wondering

Swamped by thoughts, reflections and introspection, we need something to accompany the process. I want to celebrate the deep loss in universes of minds with a playlist that makes wondering a fascination.

karen o - rapt

jack kilmer - tm

cass mccombs - night of the world

real estate - april's song

cat stevens - don't be shy

yo la tengo - green arrow

arthur russell - oh fernanda why

john maus - do your best

happiness is not a value but a state of comparison

 

Some words are phrased in ways so smart, they start to make you feel ditzy. When I read the paraphrase of Sylvia Whitman commenting on what Zadie Smith's literary message, I was swamped.

On hearing word 'happiness', I am automatically out of conversation. Trying to save myself from listening to mediocre life wisdom and pretentious reflections on other's traumas, I am sceptical about small talks on how to smile by changing own attitude.

Somewhere deep within, I know it all comes back to me and the zany states of my irrational mind, yet the element of comparison hit me. I started to analyse my ways of thinking founded on unconscious jealousy and unadmitted aspiration.

I am living the certain way now and I guess it is the way it is, because it was meant for me and no one else. Somehow, I feel more special now than half an hour ago.

the story of a glove by max klinger

Woman drops a glove and the man picks it from the ground. That's the moment when it becomes a fetishized object, a spark for surreal hallucinations and imaginings.

Max Klinger, a symbolist, has created a series of etchings that let the glove live a life of its own. It is a life of fantasy and dream, where everything is elusive and fleeting, such as the sights we catch or our constant pondering. The glove turns into an attribute, haunting, tormenting the man, eliciting visions, illusions, carrying his mind into an outlandish spaces and worlds. You can't live a real life when emotions are deceived.

Our ways of interpretation of the glove are boundless. The dreaming continues. There are fantasies we want to live in. 

 

And Klinger, he closes the series. Later on, an asteroid will be named after him to commemorate the  talent, art, the universe.

two women throwing flowers during carnival

When I think of impressionism I hear the names. Pisarro, Cezanne, Manet, Renoir. The pantheon of art masters is already filled, but I am not looking for technical perfection. I am looking for innovation.

If works of Mary Cassatt have never existed, impressionism would probably remain as we know it. Her painting did not revolutionize, but spoke words of her own and very private manifesto. Observing women's relationships and bonds, there is no trivality in the subject and aesthetical appeal merge with a meaning in symbiosis.

Exhibiting with impressionist in Paris by invitation of Edgar Degas, art of Cassatt was swiftly evading cheap sentimentalism. She created an image of a New Woman in pastel hue. And she embodied one.