Chase the moment- tracking David Wynne's works around London

 I have made a magical discovery one late night-early morning while sitting on a bus, I believe, from Luton airport. Within the dark space of a reality outside the  window, I spotted a mysterious creature seemingly blue, captured in a move like a totem of a timeless run, not meant to be completed by no one. It was a blue presence of The Boy with The Dolphin, glittering at dawn in the deepness of the-same-ness. This experience, rapid and elusive, has transformed my feel about the city. Not only this city, but any city, anywhere in the world where unexplainable, unreasonable can be discovered and embraced, and become your company in the silence or your partner in crime. I desperately tried to remember any remarkable sign having allowed me to find this spot afterwards. But it took me some time to find him, my Boy with a Dolphin, and it was meant to be this way. 

 David Wynne is being called 'the sculptor of the movement' and it is indeed the most accurate name. Streets of London remain the best possible tribute to his work, by enchanting the passengers with his monuments of the captured stories. That's why everything I wanted for my Name Day was a trip discovering these masterpieces around the city. And there are such people in our lives who are always here to make our dreams come true. 

  To disappoint my evanescent memory at dawn, Boy with a Dolphin was not really blue. To reach him, one needs to cross a magical and nostalgic Albert Bridge, which is worth visiting too. Only passing this place, one of those where always seems to be early Autumn, one is allowed to visit Boy with a Dolphin himself. It is hard to find the words to describe this feeling while looking into his eyes. The monument is perfect in his majesty. It is complete.

 The statue has been dedicated to the artist's son, who also modeled for it at the age of ten. Nowadays the sculpture seems to be forgotten, deserted in the middle of Chelsea and distracted by the huge Mercedes Benz sign. Almost like for the model, who died tragically at young age, the famous boy's final is tragic and heartbreaking. 

The Magical Reality Under Construction. World according to Ilya Utkin and Alexander Brodsky.

 Someone once said there are only two kinds of people: those who want different reality and those who create it. In that theory I am in between Jacques Derrida and his great deconstruction and Cognitive Behaviour Therapy which says that everything we see depends on what's in our  heads.

 This issue can be easily explained: Derrida has been my master since my second grade at the University (so it's been a while) and gave me enough theory to understand what I want to do and how my reality should look like, while CBT crossed my path in the perfect moment giving me the answer to the second important question: how to do that. 

 Yes, you're correct- the only way to create your own magical reality is to deconstruct the one you have. And the only instrument to achieve it is your own head. That's why making yourself a CBT session right now is an amazing thing to do even if you're brain is completely healthy. Because the way you perceive your reality is in your head. 

 Now you are about to tell me it's a cliche. And in many ways, you'd be right. So for not being accused of being a full time cliche gambler I am going to explain the issue deeper by using examples of created realities based on what you have. So if you want your reality to be different, let me give you some examples of magical realities to start with or even copy some of them into your head. Some of them are completely imaginary and are there to help us create our own in our heads. This sort of creation will not cause your detachment with the world, quite the opposite, it should connect you with it. But your perception of it will be much better and will attract more positive things into your life. At least that's what Frank told me. 

 To create your own magical reality, start with space. The space around you, the place you live in and the surroundings. Then add to it all the things you get from it: images, sounds and smells. What do you want them to remind you of? How do you want it to make you feel like?

 After that introduction I want to talk about the first example of a magical reality to explain why and how does it focus on space. An absolutely genius project I came across accidentally at Tate Modern, by Ilya Utkin and Alexander Brodsky, two amazing architects placing buildings in our imagination.

What dreams are made of- why I always wanted to live in a surreal world

 At the beginning of 'The Science of Sleep' by Michel Gondry the main character Stephane shows what the dreams are made of. You can see how he puts the ingredients to a pot and mixes them all up- the pieces of memories, childish fears and things we always wanted to happen but they never did. The facts our awareness simply can't handle to deal with it- as we can see Stephane still not agreed with his father's sudden death. The final result of his cooking is a short dream, featuring a nice memory of his father, soon turning out to be fake and cruel at the end- disturbed by reality. The nature of dream is always surprising and often worrying. The emotions can be real or almost real, but they mix all together in a way they could never do it in a normal life. It's all because of the REM phase essential, Stephane says: you move your eyes while sleeping, so you follow the events your mind is taking part in. We actually DO have a second life while sleeping. At least those of use who are lucky, or cursed enough to be mad enough to live it. 

 It was Dorothea Tanning, not Salvador Dali, who introduced me to surrealism as a form of perceiving life through a category of the dream. It was years before I falled in love with mr Blanchot and his daylight madness and before Jaques Derrida taught me that nothing is the way it seems. Dorothea Tanning caught my young and not shaped yet out brain, shook it and made me believe that what I dream of actually IS the reality. With all its' bright and dark shades, all ups and downs and first if all, entirely equal to the one we're surrounded by. 

 The fascinating thing about her creation is showing the world we seem to know, but taken over and violently conquered by the thoughts escaping from our minds. The thoughts get shapes and become creatures, built of our fears and nightmares, eating alive everything which can remain a stable and fixed part of a so-called true. 

There is one quality I love about Tanning's creatures- it's the evanescence of their being, making you keep closing and opening back your eyes as you try to believe whether they are really here or are they a projection of your own mind. 

Nuria Marques @ Esbaluard

 For those who love to explore an artsy site of new place, Esbaluard Museum of Contemporary Art in Palma de Mallorca can be, gently speaking, a slight disappointment. It doesn't really represent a spirit of the magnificent place it's based on, but rather reminds of a mere temporary exhibiton at Tate Modern. At the beginning of that article I need to mention I can definitely not act like any sort of authority in terms of Esbaluard as the entrace fee made me angry before I entered. It costs 4.50 euro to get in and me, spoiled by London where the access to most of the musuems (of much greater excellence) is free, I felt repelled by such a low accessibility of the Spanish museum. And this feeling didn't leave me for most of the time while watching the exhibition. 

 So what's cool about Esbaluard? Several Picassos and a roof terrace. And few magical spotlights which saved my impression about this place and made me leaving the building content. And, there is Nuria Marques. 

 Before I found her I took a long walk around the roof terrace, in a burning sun through the long paths with an open view to the city. Palma from that side is quiet and almost countryside style, far from tourists jam around the cathedral and the noisy Rambla. The best way to look down is to enter one of the tiny towers on the corner, which can give you a caustrophobical feeling of a cult place but is definitely worth breaking it through. You can find yourself in a magical place of a well-shape with tiny windows reaching out to the see.

 The thing which was supposed to be the most remarkable after those days hasn't been easy to find and that's exactly what attracted me to it. I have a weakness to things which seem to be hidden, swept away from within the reach of your eyes like they needed to be found and that was the only reason for them being there at first place, like being searched and found was an another purpose for their existence. They are there, to surprise and enchant.

 The work of Nuria Marques, about whom I desperately seek any information online (and saddly and surprisingly, unsuccessfully) was hidden from the general view and at the same time somehow, located just perfectly. To spot it the one needs to cross the whole room and the only reason you have to do that is a large window at the end of it. You have to feel the need to look out for the sun. There is a price for those who feel this urgent, underlying need to search for the sun. Behind a corner there is a small screen with a pair of headphones. They are waiting to take you on a journey.

Birthweek- Day 2: Drinks at The Shard and Miracle Monday

 It's been a long time as I knew that today was going to be a Miracle Monday. It had to be as it's the last day when I'm 26. I'm really sorry I couldn't spend it with more of my friends as my phone died (as usual). But Miracle Monday today didn't let me down. 

 We went down to Tate Modern from St. Paul's, through my favorite bridge leading you to the museum with a posture of the cdathedral in the background. Today it was cool and misty, creating a magical postcard from a place I've never been yet, right around me. We went to see Paul Klee exhibition at Tate, and while we were queing to buy tickets the first miracle showed up. It was a lady with sincere brown eyes, asking us for a minute and apologizing for interrupting our conversation. Her name was Christine and she was French, as after living in London for over ten years her accent was still ringing at the end of the lines. She told me she had a membership pass and she can invite one person for an exhibition as a guest. 'It's amazing- said I. Tomorrow is my Birthday'. 

Spotted in the sun

Recently I had a dream. I dreamed about a dog who was actually half French bulldog and half large king prawn. He liked to hang out on my head, which was quite problematic as his tail was always in front of my eye.

 There will never be enough of good reasons why is that so amazing to work on Brick Lane. But this thing has absolutely surpassed my most daring expectations. In the sun, for a moment I became the part of a creation. This picture I have taken with a miserable camera of my Blackberry captures the moment, when the time has really stopped.