かわいさ (可愛さ)

Could a Reliant Robin be considered cute?

Could a Reliant Robin be considered cute?How is it that we might be able to find cuteness (かわいさ (可愛さ), kawaisa in romaji transcription), in things considered "ugly" by many? I do find this car "cute" (the older versions, in fact) maybe because of the colourful versions, the simple and unaggressive aesthetics, the vulnerability of being a 3-wheeled creature, its appearance, close to that of some sort of kind creature...

Having a good Старт

It was by chance, as usually, that I got to know about the microbus Start (Старт),  manufactured by САРБ, ЛАСЗ and ДАБ from 1964 until 1970. Several years ago I discovered East German cars and Fiat Polski but Soviet cars remained quite unknown for me. I knew the names of some brands (Gaz, Lada, Moskvich...) but didn't look for further information.

There's something attractive about Старт...its odd shape and dimensions, the retro kind of front, the impossibility not to notice it...I'm afraid there must be now just too few still "alive", but fortunately (that's something rather emotional...not rational since old cars are rather polluting) there are still Soviet cars to be seen on the roads and streets, just like there are still Trabis moving around in Germany, Seat 600 in Spain and old Fiat 500 in Italy (just to put some examples of wheeled treasures).The colours of vehicles in those years were also somehow special, not only in the East. Blue, yellow and green back there were very different from those used in cars nowadays. 

references:

wikipedian article (in Russian)

El dia en què parlàrem d'en Ieltsin, la Marilyn tenia masses rostres

I una Marilyn imaginària, com totes les altres, cridava, com a “The Misfits” (1961). Però sense dir res, sense veu. Ahir es feia estrany parlar d’en Ieltsin, com molts d’altres estarien pensant en parlar també d’ell. Vaig recordar fa dies i ahir també una fotografia de la Marilyn al rodatge de “the Misfits”, allà al mig de l’espai, seriosa, amb el cap ves a saber on, ella que a cada imatge semblava tenir un altre rostre, com si hagués estat un bon grapat de persones. Marilyn em confon. Després de parlar d’en Ieltsin i d’en Gorbi ens vam congratular, celebrant les nostres probabilitats de patir un càncer (un dia, sorpresa!) i com els homes de negocis que es feliciten, ens donem una mà. Flaire de mort, d'una mort com els sepulcres pintats de colors en un somni de ja fa uns anys. Millor de colors. O potser sense color, com un elixir bucal incolor. O sense color, com l’acte de rentar-se les dents o com el sexe, que no ve seguit de cap color i pot no tenir cap color, o tenir-ne tants que és com si no en tingués cap. Vam sospitar les nostres agonies perquè sí com qui parla de cuina, o de tofu. Ell parlava de la certesa d'una agonia inimaginablement dolorosa. Un punt de vista des de l'altra banda del mostrador. Jo havia pensat en probabilitats altes però no en certeses d'una cosa per l'estil. Però no és dolent parlar de punts finals que no se sap si són finals. Vaig mirar després rostres de la Marilyn, vaig pensar en Mongòlia. Començo a imaginar-me ara una Marilyn al mig de la plaça Sühbaatar, cridant. Sobta. Em vaig sentir confosa amb tant de rostre i a mesura que passava el dia, m’anava allunyant més i més, caminant per aquella cosa paral·lela o no. Els paisatges més enllà del tren eren més esplendorosos, amb so de vidre. Gent. Es parlà de Nepal. No-no-no...resposta utòpica sobre lluites armades. Com si no...veia un mort, un altre, un altre. Justícies llençades contra la paret, esclafades com globus d’aigua (plaf!). Trossos de goma. Escombra, escombra. Després no hi havia Bangladesh, i m’era aliena la lògica de les dinàmiques a les que m’havia acostumat a sentir a parlar, tot i que l’entenia. Malauradament hi ha aquesta mena de coses per entendre. I vaig esdevenint més inviable. En comptes de sentir la ciutat sota els meus peus, de sentir el sòl quan vaig descalça, sóc més com un globus. Globus contra la paret, globus que es deixa anar. I al matí, parlant d’en Ieltsin, responguérem a la vegada, continuarem a la vegada la meva frase. Seré cada cop més utòpica potser perquè veig que no queda tant, vam concloure a la vegada, com si fos un càlcul matemàtic senzill. I ens congratulàrem. Soja verda i caramels de cafè sense sucre dins d’una bossa blanca. Al vespre, sense haver pogut tornar els peus a les voreres, a les andanes, a les escales, al ciment, a les llambordes, a les rajoles, m’abraçà la veu sempre estranya i magnífica d'en Vice Vukov. Una veu que ho feia tot més estrany encara.

Belgrade calling

Esdeveniment misteriós és Eurovisió. Si bé avui dia no té gaire gràcia...perquè jo la gràcia li veig a poder escoltar cançons en idiomes diversos i amb influències diferents (bé...estan les excepcions balcàniques dels darrers anys, en menor o major mesura)..i el clima polític és diferent ara que representa que som més europeus (bé...està el misteri de si tornarà a participar el Marroc -tots som Europa!-, que sols prengué part en la cosa eurovisiva el 1980 amb Samira Bensaïd, o si Europa arribarà al Kazakhstan o a Mongòlia) Arran d'haver retrobat per una carpeta al PC “merci cherie” d’Udo Jürgens (representant a Àustria el 1966) he acabat investigant sobre les aventures eurovisives dels iugoslaus (no adherits al Pacte de Varsòvia i per tant amb el "privilegi" de poder prendre part a la cosa eurovisiva, des del 1961) i el festival de 1966 mateix...Peculiar: el britànic amb la seva faldilla escocesa -llàstima del blanc i negre- (“a man without love”, de Kenneth McKellar) i la representant iugoslava, Berta Ambrož (1944-2003), eslovena, cantant en eslovè (“brez besed” = sense paraules). Ai, Iugoslàvia de Tito...dictadures a eurovisió...però a Serrat el 1968 no el van deixar cantar en català....que l'havia escrit i composat ell el tema i la versió original era en català...en fi, la història és coneguda (i no calen comparacions amb Massiel que ni l'havia escrit ni composat). Després està la finlandesa alegre (Ann-Christine Nyström amb “Playboy”) i Raphael de les Espanyes. I la gran curiositat, la gran errada de les votacions del jurat espanyol (refia-te’n dels jurats eurovisius...a més), que encetaren les votacions pels 5 punts (hehe...i s’escoltava gent fent xivarri-rient)...portugal cinq points (ai...les ganes de donar-li els 5 punts a la cançó portuguesa (els 3 vots anaren cap a Noruega –noruega cantant en norueg, clar- i el punt cap a Àustria). Eren senzilles les votacions i en un tres i no res tots quedaven votats i cap a casa. Tornant a Iugoslàvia...Belgrade calling. Al jurat iugoslau els agradà el “yo soy aquél” de Raphael...per que gaires motivacions per donar-li un vot a les Espanyes franquistes, com que no sé pas. Jo crec que a radiotelevisiónespañola es van alegrar del vot iugoslau i de fet van convidar a la gran Berta Ambrož a que cantés amb Raphael (ves a saber què)...però com que no podia tornar a sortir del país o quelcom per l’estil. Sona com a llegenda urbana.

Vet aquí la cançó iugoslava de Berta Ambrož ...cançó bonica amb encant (enllaç a la lletra en eslovè i anglès).

i les votacions

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(Neco amb el "hani" que representà a Turquia el 1982 per una altra ocasió)

unexpected scenes from unseen movies

unseen movies in unexpected lives.
unexpected scenes in unexpected moments.


Here is a cut from "Alphaville"(1965) by J.L. Godard . I found it when i was looking for some (kitsch) videoclip of some song by Alphaville...Such things happen. Something waits for us. Something that doesn't want to be looked for. Something wants to meet us accidentally...having some certain aim.



Today i tried to see if i could find some scene of a certain dialogue in "Hiroshima mon amour"(1959) by A. Resnais ...or "On connaît la chanson" (1997), also by A. Resnais...i wasn't lucky. I shouldn't have looked for them in order to find the Something waiting for me.

Sandie Shaw and hoopoes

Her 1967 song “puppet on a string” is quite well-known...but today I got to know that the German version is something else. I wondered whether it was the same song...”Wiedehopf im Mai” (Hoopoe in May). What do hoopoes have in common with puppets and strings?...and merry-go-rounds???? I tried to find whether “Wiedehopf im Mai” was some kind of idiom...or to see if hoopoes did anything special in May. What an odd translation... Unfortunately I’ve not listened to the German version and wasn’t either lucky looking for the lyrics...

I don’t know why did I end up finding the title of that song in German, and I don’t know why did I decide to look for some information on Sandie Shaw. Besides the “Hoopoe” thing, I found out that Mrs. Shaw has not leaded a life of a typical 60es pop singer.

pastelito pantera rosa 1966-2006

Por casualidad encontré en el diario Metro del pasado jueves 9 de marzo, perdida por la tercera página, la noticia de que el pastelito rosa mutante de la pantera rosa (mítico) cumplía 40 años (otra cosa a sumar a las entradas de este blog con referencias al año 1966). Me pregunto si en los inicios el rosa era igual de mutante que décadas más tarde...(quizás fuera demasiado agresivo para aquellos tiempos) y estoy segura que el packaging tenía más encanto que los últimos, con una pantera rosa con walkman y auriculares. Rosa chicle chillón que reclama todas las miradas. A partir de los años 80 ya empezamos a estar más curados de espanto por las cuestiones cromáticas de los alimentos y además eran los tiempos del auge del horterismo, pero en los años 60 y 70? Pues bien, como una servidora, el pastelito en cuestión nació en Granollers (qué honor!...tendría que ser un hijo predilecto de la ciudad/pueblo ya...pero ya y los lugareños tendríamos que decir...soy del mismo lugar que el mítico pastelito casi-radioactivo...corriendo el riesgo de ser mirados de manera extraña)...y los nacidos en el 66, lo mismo..."nací el mismo año que el pastelito pantera rosa" ...dándose la ventaja de parecer más jóvenes pues no es fácil creer que tal "manjar" haya cumplido 40 años.

En los últimos años siempre pensé que había dejado de existir tal creación “gastronómica”, pero hasta que hace mucho, unos pastelitos de la pantera rosa me guiñaron un ojo desde su estante (era un caprabo y hacía sol). Pensaba que habían desaparecido como los dibujos animados de la pantera rosa de los domingos por la tarde, hace bastantes años. El reencuentro. Fíjate!..aún los venden! Pero ya queda poco de aquella cultura de los pastelitos que eran intrusos en dietas sanas...de la que viví, al menos, a mediados-finales de los 80. Pastelitos para casi todas las series de dibujos, con cromos y otras pijadas, como las manos pegajosas de los phoskitos (aquellas manos de colores que se quedaban adheridas sobre todo a los cristales)...pijadas que se acumulaban con las que regalaban con los packs de yogures, por no hablar de los huevos de chocolate kinder y los que eran imitaciones..ah! y las calcomanías de los diminutos que recuerdo de algunos chicles...Y con cuatro cromos y cuatro tonterías ya nos entreteníamos ... y con el color rosa del pastelito de la pantera rosa, ya nos emocionábamos.

1966

Inner revival... When i started loving music, that's many years ago, what i used to listen, was mainly music from the 60es and 70es. I've never forgotten such songs and singers...but they haven't been in a first place in the list of my musical preferences for quite a long time. And suddenly, i found myself listening to Mina. I just knew and liked a song by her "Un anno d'amore" (1964...as far as i know), which i tend to sing while taking a shower (a good shower-song, indeed!..however, i prefer "Nova cançó de s'amor perdut", by Joan Ramon Bonet, a song love since many years ago). Ah..but more songs by her came across my way...songs i ended up listening to over and over and really liking: "Mai così" (1966), "Se telefonando" (1966, in Studio Uno 66), "sono come tu mi vuoi" (1966). My musical trip also reached old Sanremo festivals...mmm...i found really nice songs in 1966 edition: "io ti darò di più" by Orietta Berti (...well, i've read that it was sung by other people too) (6th place), "nessuno di voi" by Richard Anthony, rather well-known, and "Adesso si" by Sergio Endrigo. But i've not heard the winner song ("Dio come ti amo") yet, by D. Modugno and G. Cinquetti....although i think i've heard a version by Mina. The sound of music in those years vanished and never came back...although several bands and singers who began their career then, kept making music and singing for decades. But the sound changed, although i believe many people miss the 60es sound of that pop music made then, of songs in those old Sanremo, canzonissima, even Benidorm and eurovision song contest. Ah!!...i'm talking about the SOUND, not the festivals themselves. Mentally, lately, i was in some other period of time...or in any period of time, since i combine inside and outside me things from different moments. One moment might not be enough for me...better to take positive things from different periods of time and harmonize them. Sumireneko out of nowhere and out of time.

Plastic People of the Universe

aaah....A couple of days ago i couldn't help having a drawing-need attack. My hand moved unconciously and started drawing, like some time ago. I've always loved drawing and i've never given it up (although it means sometimes drawing in books, which i could never lend to anybody, to reuse them...sorry). The picture above of the consequences of my having-to-draw that day. He's a Professor at University. uhm...i don't know whether i should give names here. And why drawing him? spontaneus drawing impulse (SDI). Since there’s not much to say about this SDI, I’ll build, this time, a multi-topic article, with no connections between topics.
Wanting to be like Beckham or so??? Beckham ist Quatsch mit Soße! (¡naranjas de la China!..nonsense in English, but it's not as funny, that's why i didn't write it first in English). Beckhamhood and all related fashiondelamuertehood is something temporary. Oh! tree leaves turning yellowish and falling sadly onto the ground of drowsy parks and forests, when the night has told stories about the coming hard winter. That's the death of beckhamhood.
By the way, Plastic People of the Universe (Milan Hlavsa,Josef Janíček, Vratislav Brabenec, Jiří Kabeš) was a band from the former Czechoslovakia. I once (quite a long time ago) heard about it in some TV report (i think it was in "sputnik", on canal 33) about music and political events. They talked about these people (they made interesting music, with mysterious sounds...some kind of rock, close to psychedelic rock, sometimes), Václav Hável and the Velvet Revolution. I liked the name of this music band.

back into the 60es: minimalism,colours, birds & physics

Unexpectedly, as most good things in life, recently (i always refer to things that happened recently...), i felt i was travelling back to the 60es, a time i never lived, but from which i've loved music for many years (Beatles, Janis Joplin, Joan Baez, french singers from the 60es...usw.). First came songs by VASHTI BUNYAN, especially "Love song" (1966), which by now i've listened to i-don't-know-how-many-times, over and over. A simply beautiful song, with a wonderful melody and precious lyrics, simple and rich at the same time. Then i came across a quite well-known Polish musician (well, famous in Poland and in the former East-Germany), CZESŁAW NIEMEN.... Again i was stuck in 1966 by his song "dziwny jest ten świat" (the translation i found is "strange is this world"), the same name as the album that includes it, but the album is from 1967...What did i find in his songs? a good mixture-combination of psychedelic rock (reminiscences of Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead, Procol Harum...), jazz, a bit of folk. All in one. And, despite not being able to understand the lyrics but some words in Polish, my intuition and what i read about Niemen's music, tell me that the lyrics were as good as the melodies or even better. Niemen was indeed an interesting person, musically but also visually, with his colourful clothes, and later with his hat and round dark glasses, half between hippy and folk singers.

And yesterday, my friend Tomek (oder Thomas, Tomasz...wie du willst), sent me a beautiful poem by a Brazilian poetess (we usually exchange poems in portuguese, especially from Brazil), Cecília Meireles. The poem is "Os dias felizes" (Meireles, C., Obra poética, Rio de Janeiro, 1967). Poems from the mid of the 20th century have a different taste...like some poems by Tomaž Šalamun (Slovenian), Jaroslav Seifert or by Jacobo Fijman....Different things said in a different time and sometimes Same things said in a different time, and thus having a different meaning. Happy days aren't the same in poems from Romanticism or from the early 20th century...as in the mid 60es or nowadays. It's just like the sound of the music by The Raveonettes (Denmark)...60es sound (not in all their songs, though) made in the 21st century.

Os dias felizes estão entre árvores como

os pássaros: viajam nas nuvens,

correm nas águas,

desmancham-se na areia.

[...]

Cecília Meireles

And besides, having a look at an old book on Physics (García Santesmases, J., Física General, Madrid, 1968), i found 4 old stamps of 50 céntimos each (Peseta times!!!!!!!!!!!!), with an image of a writer, Concha Espina. What a thing to find!...Those stamps had been there for over 3 decades...inside an old book i rescued some summers ago from dust and oblivion (the book belonged to my father and somebody had placed most old books in old suitcases made of cardboard and wooden boxes, piled up together with boxes cointaining old tools and other old stuff). The stamps were close to chapter 38, about Optical instruments (it even talks about the human eye...hehe). The reason why i was having a look at a Physics book...well, the book was staring at me insistently, wanting me to pick him from the shelf. A book of Chemistry, dwelling next to the Physics one, sometimes does the same thing to me. Mysteries. I can't help feeling their presence.

C.O.N.T.R.O.L. mourns...K.A.O.S. too, probably

Last Sunday (but i didn't hear the news until today) Don Adams passed away (13th April 1923 -25th September 2005) . Maybe he's not very well known for most readers of this blog...but at least, those living in Catalunya have more chances than those in the rest of Spain (except for Castilla y León) to know who he was since the series "Get Smart" is, since over a week, back on tv (as "superagent 86"). I had the chance to watch it again last summer in a regional tv channel from Castilla y León (Canal 4 Castilla y León), with the original dubbing into spanish, with some kind of southamerican accent (in spanish, the title is "superagente 86")

I've always liked the series and today i was surprised and sad to know the starring actor had died. Not so long ago i had looked for more information about "get smart" on the net, after seeing the series was back. I wouldn't have expected then to get such sad news today. Now it feels different to watch the series...

Characters and series don't die and will keep among us some actors and actresses worth to be remembered, some actors and actresses, like Don Adams, without whom some characters and stories wouldn't have been possible. Agent 86 can't be imagined in any other way now but interpreted by Adams...the same with 99, and with the Chief. Those who have Canal 33 tv channel are lucky ones, being able to watch once more this series (i don't know whether it's still on Canal 4 Castilla y León...), sometimes, depending on the chapter, able to watch the original voices, but always with the option of an excellent dubbing.

I have no doubt that many people of different generations will remember Don Adams and his Agent 86 role. Better than other words, it's to watch some chapters. All are good, all full of intelligent humour and parodies, surrounded by the aesthetics of the 60es.