inner installations *

i

install 

images

i

interpret 

installations

i

imagine 

infallible 

i

inner

illusionist

*part i / Francois Morellet

ocean spray

It's easy to see, it's easy to see
To see only white where colour should be
It's easy to feel, it's easy to feel
But it's not good enough, even though it's real

.

.

It's easy to breathe, it's easy to grieve
To breathe only air where life should be
It's easy to laugh, it's easy to cry
To cry so so hard that it can't be denied

δεν.πουθενά

δε μπορεί ένα αντίο 

να κρατήσει

πολλούς μήνες

ένα αντίο

για αυτόν

που δεν έχει φύγει ακόμα

δεν χωράει πουθενά

το αντίο

δεν το βρίσκεις πεταμένο

το μαζεύεις

από κάθε γέλιο

το μαζεύεις

από κάθε βλέμμα και κάθε αγκαλιά

το μαζεύω

και πάλι δεν χωράει

πουθενά

θυμάμαι

τα γέλια

τα βλέμματα

και τις αγκαλιές

η στιγμή

που το βλέμμα του

θα περιμένει το αντίο μου

είναι φορτίο
που δεν αντέχω

1/2*

today

i know

in a moment (click!)

i knew

to the lost

and the findings

i found

fountains

sharing &  carrying

until my very last

moment

they know

they know better

* +1/2

William Shakespeare in 2.

in my heart of hearts
(Hamlet)

there's a method in my madness
(Hamlet)

a fool's paradise
(r+j)

in my mind's eye
(Hamlet)

William Shakespeare was an English poet and playwright.

I met him in Paris tonight; six years later; me, not the same.

He mentioned something about Beckett.

I strongly believed both of them.

?wrong;

[sound]

.ε*

I live at the corner of old Montmartre

my father returns drunk every night

and the four of us are fed (And in order to feed us)

My poor mother works at the washhouse

I am sick, I dream through my window

I look people pass

when the day comes to vanish

there are things that brought me a little fear

in my street there are people who take a walk

I hear their whispers in the night

when I’m sent to sleep nourished by the corny old tunes

I am suddenly waken from the cries

the final whistle, to stop those lurking, who come and go

then the silence that makes me cold in every heart

in my street there are ghosts who take a walk

and I shake and I am cold and I am afraid

my father he tells me one day: “ daughter,

you will not stay here forvever

you are good at nothing, this is familly

You ought to try to find a way to...

the men find you rather pretty

You'd only have to go out [to work] at night

there are good women who earn their living

in “ dangling themselves over the sidewalk” 

In my street there are women who take a walk

I hear them sing softly in the night

when I’m sent to sleep nourished by the corny old tunes

I am suddenly am waken from the cries

the final whistle, to stop those lurking, who go and come

then the silence that makes me cold my whole heart

in my street there are women who take a walk

and I shake and I’m cold and I’m afraid

And now it's already been weeks and weeks that

I have no longer a home, money

I don't know how the others make it through

but I didn’t try looking for clinets 

I asked all people who passed by for charity

a piece of bread, a little bit of warmth

I had however not much of boldness

now it is me who makes them afraid

in my street all nights I go for a walk

they hear me sob in the night

when the wind drops from the heavens it's corny old tune

all my body is ice for the rain

but I can’t anymore, I waited ceaselessly (for the good god to come)

an invitation to be warmed all near him

in my street there are angels who are taking me away

for always my nightmares are finished

...

*my mirror

*.

*title.

future.

body.

my story
your room
my room
your story
our love
future
has come
4
me
+

cinq.

six

“Inside movement there is one moment at which the elements in motion are in balance. Photography must seize upon this moment and hold immobile the equilibrium of it.”   Henri Cartier-Bresson*

*see also

seven.

"these are my colours for you"

"light up my colours"

eight.

u
my ticket
in my pocket
platforms
form
u

πετώντας μαζί μου

μη μου θυμώνεις μάτια μου

που φεύγω για τα ξένα

πουλί θα γίνω και θα 'ρθω

πάλι κοντά σε σένα

...

στις φυγές που πρόλαβες να δεις

στα μάτια που άγγιξες κι αφήνεις

όλοι οι φόβοι καταγής

μένουν πετώντας

μένουν μαζί μου

f.m

there was a love*

*the story of the day is about love.

the woman that you loved is dead.

man

There was a boy

A very strange enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far, very far

Over land and sea

A little shy

And sad of eye

But very wise

Was he

And then one day

A magic day he came my way

And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings

This he said to me

boy

"The greatest thing
You'll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved
In return"

προσωπικά παραμύθια

Προσωπικά δεν έχω αισθήματα για σένα φιλικά

μονάχα βήματα θιγμένα ερωτικά,

που μ' αναγκάζουνε να φεύγω βιαστικά

Προσωπικά δε θέλω τίποτα μαζί σου λογικά

μου πάει ο ήχος της φωνής σου τραγικά

και δεν αλλάζω το κορμί σου με την άψογη ζωή σου

τελικά

Προσωπικά εγώ τρελαίνομαι,

το παραμύθι σου και να 'μαι και να φαίνομαι

Προσωπικά δεν έχω αίσθηση

αυτό που ζούμε αν είναι αλήθεια ή παραίσθηση

προσωπικά

λέξεις κολυμπάνε στο ποτήρι και φτιάχνουν ιστορίες
σαν παραμύθι δίχως όνομα

Προσωπικά, τυχαίνει βράδια με τραγούδια λαϊκά

ντυμένη κι άδεια κι αφημένη γενικά

να μεταφράζω τη σκηνή δραματικά

Προσωπικά, εμένα ο χρόνος μου γυρίζει κυκλικά

κι αλλάζει ο τόνος μου στο τέλος ειδικά

γι' αυτό να ξέρεις κι επιμένω, κι ας μου το 'χεις ξεγραμμένο

οριστικά

dessert sessions

No more

It's done

Crawl home

Get gone

Your love

Is evil

Lonesome

My bones

Took me such a long time to figure it out

Now is it too late, I can't do it alone

Took me such a long time to figure it out

Don't take it away, away, oh

Snowstorm

In my heart

Crawl home

Your love

Is evil

I'm lonesome

Just get more and more

Where you've dared

hasta la fotografistas baby!

από την έκθεση των fotografistas

Βαγγέλης Σαμαράς

Βαγγέλης Σαμαράς

θα την τσακίσω εγώ

τη νοσταλγία σου

θα μαχαιρώσω

τη μυστική σου

χαρά

με τ' άσπρα μου

πουλιά

που ζουν

και φτερουγίζουν

μέσα 

στα

μάτια σου

Ν. Εγγονόπουλος

week.end

Feels so good being bad

There's no way I'm turning back 

Now the pain is my pleasure cause nothing could measure 

Love is great, love is fine 

Out the box, outta line 

The affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more 

Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it 

Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it 

Sticks and stones may break my bones 

But chains and whips excite me 

Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me, oh, you turn me on 

It's exactly what I've been yearning for, give it to me strong 

And meet me in my boudoir, make my body say ah ah ah 

I like it-like it 

Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it 

Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it 

Sticks and stones may break my bones 

But chains and whips excite me 

 

timeless

   

a time for you and me
...
at last
we 'll see
...

4.28years (eve)

Standing at the punch table swallowing punch

can’t pay attention to the sound of anyone

a little more stupid, a little more scared

every minute more unprepared

I made a mistake in my life today
everything I love gets lost in drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
way out of sync from the beginning

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up

so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I 'm very, very frightening

I 'll overdo it

Looking for somewhere to stand and stay
I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away

Can I get a minute of not being nervous
and not thinking of my dick
My leg is sparkles, my leg is pins
I better get my shit together, 
better gather my shit in

You could drive a car through my head in five minutes

from one side of it to the other

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I’m very, very frightening
I’ll overdo it

You know I dreamed about you

for twenty-eight years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for

for twenty-eight years