time

it is what drives me to my end
and pushes sunlight through the vastness
always defining, with the other hand
the sense that things make sense inside us
the omnipresent longing
of things to dissolve and blend
into a creeping shadow
of what has been used and tends
to swallow generations yet to come
who are alive, in other moments, like i am
now that i look up to the sky to catch
a glimpse of something
too beautiful to understand.

the world of light

i recently started a new job at a little shop that sells and designs lighting. it's a dream job for me, as it has to do with architecture and the technical side of it, while on the other hand manipulates light, the most romantic and elusive of all substances.
i've never given lighting or light design much thought, and now i'm somewhat ashamed of it. after all, it's one of the most important things in architecture! for the last few days, i wasn't really able to think about anything else. our psychology depends on the quality of light so much without us really knowing it. for example, i figured that our mind is pre-programmed to find the light, coming from above, the most natural. it's the active, motivatonal light, and therefore suited for working and living spaces. on the other hand, light coming from below or from the walls, soothes us, so it's adequate for spaces where we should relax. it's a simple trick, yet it affects the deepest animal instincts inside us. the world of light is something completely new to me, and i'm eager to conquer it.

what matters

i came across this piece of awesomeness today: tom in rome by jonathan galassi

bolder than antonio canova
outdoing the apollo belvedere,
you demolish every red guide reader's
half-baked callow notion of an
adequate response to what we see:
forensically investigating daphne,
how she limb by limb becomes a tree,
you scant the art, stern sage who's always known
what matters in a figure is the stone.

you are toffee, you are sand in sunlight,
you are handsome, winsome, bright and lithe:
chaste carrara, blue-veined parian,
hand-warmed pentelic when you buck and writhe
more contorted than laocoön,
diminutive fine subtle lordship, master-
work surpassing alabaster,
as i am tufa to your travertine.

go ahead and shame us in the forum
with your ironic fine decorum, do:
antinous with glasses and umbrella,
deus ex machina of the novella
whose story was that my roads led to you.

thank you, new york book review, for publishing this. i can't get it out of my head now, especially the fact, that what matters in a figure, is the stone.

amazing artist: rune guneriussen

rune guneriussen is a norway based artist, whose work concentrates on creating magical landscapes from ordinary objects. i especially like the pieces that involve lights. straight from a modern fairy-tale.