Creative Women

Bad people reflected in Arts

2011-12-26T11:21:00.000-08:00

See my article in Yareah magazine:

http://yareah.com/?p=649

My article about the painter Jaime Hernandez de la Torre

2011-12-23T06:03:00.000-08:00

http://yareah.com/?p=447

My caricature in Yareah

2011-12-23T06:02:00.001-08:00

Yareah team: Caricatures

2011-12-23T05:59:00.000-08:00

Ariza by Martin Cid e Isabel del Rio

2011-11-03T09:03:00.000-07:00

Recently, I have seen that my beloved novel Ariza is being selling in Amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ariza-Martin-Cid/dp/8496806529.
Ariza tells the trip of the Medina family through mirrors and shadows of a lost time, still present. A narrative that flies, like the smoke of the locomotive of those old trains that crossed the Spanish Nothern plateau in the 19th century, to descend to the enigmatic nameless city, near our ears and our feelings, home to the Medina's dreams.
PLOT:
Proud wheat fields, white factories and medieval houses greet Miguel Medina. He is hardly a child and he is scared. He gets to the train station hidden in a box of oranges, smelling sour. Eugenio Escudero projects new rail lines, thinking of progress. They meet a moment, outlining silences and blames... In the future, they will meet again and Miguel will marry Lucia, Eugenio's daugther, the silence will grow.
Lucia is the queen in Ariza, a magic farm, always in front of the enigmatic nameless city, unrelated to the wars and problems of the Spain in the next century. His son, Carlos, will look for answers abroad and he will return as a hero without booty, alone, with his music and paintings. But he smiles, slowly, in that Easter of 1930, when the nameless city is singing to the Virgin and waiting for the next train. Maybe this time arrives.
MY OPINION:
Ariza is wonderful. You could consider it an intellectual novel, as it deals with abstract ideas and it has mythological references, but it’s not in the least didactic or boring. Sometimes you laugh, sometimes you cry but you never remain indifferent because you identify with the main characters: deep, tender and smart... liars, fighters and losers. I recommend it highly. It’s one of those books which can change your life.

Photo of Martin Cid

2010-11-14T11:04:00.000-08:00

http://www.martincid.com/

Relato: Viaje a Oriente, de Martín Cid

2010-06-14T02:38:00.000-07:00

El fantasma sólo nos contempla y sólo el fantasma nos contempla y nos mira directamente, casi sin recordar el pasado que hasta allí le trajo, que hasta ese momento quiso olvidar el reflejo de su alma en vilo.
Lo vi un solo momento y un solo momento me vio, atrapado en un lugar que desconoce, en ese lugar que me vio también nacer y me verá morir porque nada transcurre entre sombras y reflejos y cae, cae para volver a alzarse y volver a mirarme. ¿Soy yo? Me responde el viento que llora.

Un día nací pero ya no lo recuerdo, ¿hay alguien capaz de hacerlo? Ayer -me dicen las sombras-, hoy –repiten los ecos-, despierta –me dicen los difuntos-, pero ayer ya estaba muerto. Me soñé ebrio y cansado, ¿qué me queda esperar? Crucé despacio y me despedí de ella, caída también en el piso sin respiración. Aún sentía su aliento suave sobre mi cuello: ¿vendrás? Quiero verte morir sin ojos –dijo-. Déjame aquí y atraviesa la calle con los ojos cerrados, yo permaneceré a este lado, mirando. Y así me miró y la vi morir. Aún siento su última respiración. Dicen que los chamanes eligen el momento de su muerte. Simplemente, ya no respiran. La lucha ha terminado al fin y ya su último aliento se deposita en el aire. Ha comenzado a descomponerse lentamente y a caminar en otra forma y deposito su cuerpo aún caliente en la acera y obedezco. ¿Quién es capaz de contradecir la última voluntad de una mujer? Cerré los ojos y caminé hacia delante. Ella ahora me mira, caminé hacia ella en sentido contrario a su cuerpo, hacia ella siempre. Sólo duró un momento que apenas ya recuerdo. Vino por la derecha y simplemente ya no estaba. Es delicioso recordar el momento de morir. Sólo un momento más y ella volverá. Es delicioso sentir las carnes fallecer y la sangre caer y otra vez volver otra vez al lugar del que vinimos. Me aferro a esos últimos momentos y me aferro a su respiración callada. ¿Me viste morir? Pregunté al regresar. Sólo silencio. ¿Dónde estaba? En la oscuridad, todo es ruido del pasado en un puzzle en el que no encajan las piezas y ella ha desaparecido. ¿Es oscuridad? A veces alguna alma me roza pero sigo viendo los fantasmas al otro lado, fantasmas que no puedo tocar. Es un esfuerzo terrible y allí la busco a través de los ojos de otros y la veo en la misma postura, en la misma calle. ¿A qué esperas? Ella simplemente calló un momento antes de volver a respirar ahogada. Cuando los chamanes, otra vez, decidieron volver. Desfalleció un momento y con la boca de otro fui yo mismo quien le dijo: ahora vendrás conmigo, cruza la calle, amor mío, cruza la calle. Un desconocido se acerca y le presta auxilio. Ella se levanta y él la toma de la mano, la mano que en otro tiempo yo tocaba y la misma mano que ahora se aferra a otros brazos para aferrarse también a la vida que yo dejé, a la respiración que ya no siento y al calor de unos brazos que no son los míos. Ven conmigo, amor mío, ven a esta oscuridad solitaria en la que no estás y ven de nuevo y ven y corre con los ojos cerrados. Ya suenan las sirenas y viene la ambulancia. ¿Qué haréis con mis restos desperdigados ahora? Te sigo pero mis pasos son torpes en este nuevo estado. Volveré a ti, amor mío, volveré a verte otra vez.
Porque ahora, por siempre, habitaré en tus sueños.

Leer sobre Martín Cid:

http://www.martincid.com/biografia.php

Leer en Yareah:
http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/literature-literatura/793-viaje-a-oriente

Ethics and arts- Etica y Arte- on Yareah magazine

2009-12-03T08:19:00.000-08:00

Isabel del Río in an exhibition about women

2009-11-21T08:24:00.000-08:00

Isabel del Río, Romeo Niram (beside her) and Martín Cid (left) introduce the Spanish painter Javier Blázquez Murillo (left-center) and his last exhibition "Rejected women by History".

A very interesting exhibition in Espacio Niram (Madrid).

http://isabeldelrio.wordpress.com

I am happy today

2009-10-04T10:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday (o2/10/2009), I was in Valladolid (Spain) with the writers Martín Cid, Isabel del Río and Ignacio Zara to start a nice project: to translate into Spanish Guillerme “la Chimère” Pradel's poems.

It is fantastic to have a new project! I am happy today!

The Canvas, a tale by Martín Cid

2009-09-23T10:20:00.000-07:00

He was steadily looking at himself in front of a mirror of sorrow but he did not recognise his image, strange for him and for everybody in that crowded room of that famous museum. He kept looking at his reflection for a while; he was a thirty-years-old shadow in front of visitors, beside two dwarfs and the “master”. Someone was talking near them and me. I cannot remember if that happened in the past or in the future.
The infanta Margarita, Felipe IV’s daughter, was in front of us; her heavy blond hair smelt strongly, I could see her face…: you seem unfriendly, stupid tourist.
-Was someone talking?....

http://portraitsfromanothereurope.wordpress.com/2007/06/04/the-picture/

Trackback:

http://portraitsfromanothereurope.wordpress.com/2007/06/04/the-picture/trackback

Sculptural Ensemble by Constantin Brancusi: Targu-Jiu (Romania) on Yareah magazine

2009-09-03T07:56:00.000-07:00

The issue of September of Yareah magazine is dedicated to Avant-Garde. You can read a lot of articles: Tzara, Ruben Dario, Samuel Beckett, Picasso, Monet.... and Constantin Brancusi.
Read more:
http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/arts-arte/436-sculptural-ensemble-in-targu-jiu-romania-by-constantin-brancusi-conjunto-escultorico-de-targu-jiu-rumania-realizado-por-constantin-brancusi

Trackback:
http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/component/jomcomment/trackback/436/com_content

Caravaggio on Yareah magazine

2009-09-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

This is my first collaboration for Yareah magazine. It is a cultural bilingual (English-Spanish) magazine. I am glad the editors, Martín Cid and Isabel del Río, gave me this opportunity.

Caravaggio, a myth for the Baroque "Avant-Garde"

When people pronounced the word “Avant-Garde”, our thoughts fly to Paris, to Montmatre, if we are more precise, and to the last part of the 19th century or to the beginning of the 20th one… always before the Second World War.
Eighty years of creative and innovative artists and authors who constantly seek new ways of expression disobeying academic rules and conservative ways of behavior: Impressionists, Fauvists, Dadaists, Expressionists…. and so on.
Therefore, “Avant-Garde” is a good word to establish a relative chronology, useful for teachers and easy classifications. But, how about the meaning and semantic connotations of it?

Read more:

http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/myths-mitos/439-caravaggio-a-myth-for-the-baroque-qavant-gardeq

Trackback:

http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/component/jomcomment/trackback/439/com_content

The Myth of Melussina on Yareah magazine

2009-08-02T11:05:00.000-07:00

by Thomas Keightley

Elinas, King of Albania, to divert his grief for the death of his wife, amused himself with hunting. One day, at the chase, he went to a fountain to quench his thirst. As he approached it he heard the voice of a woman singing, and on coming to it he found there the beautiful fay Pressina.
After some time the fay bestowed her hand upon him, on the condition that he should never visit her at the time of her lying-in. She had three daughters at a birth: Melusina, Melior, and Palatina. Nathas, the king's son by a former wife, hastened to convey the joyful tidings to his father, who, without reflection, flew to the chamber of the queen, and entered as she was bathing her daughters. Pressina, on seeing him, cried out that he had broken his word, and she must depart. And taking up her three daughters, she disappeared.
She retired to the Lost Island, so called because it was only by chance any, even those who had repeatedly visited it, could find it. Here she reared her children, taking them every morning to a high mountain, whence Albania might be seen, and telling them that but for their father's breach of promise they might have lived happily in the distant land which they beheld.
When they were fifteen years of age, Melusina...

Read more:
http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/issue-1-numero-1/73-1-myths-mitos/214-the-myth-of-melussina

Emily Brönte and her museum on Yareah magazine

2009-08-02T11:01:00.000-07:00

The Brontë's Home- Museum

This museum is dedicated to the Brontë’s sisters and family.
Charlotte (21 April 1816 – 31 March 1855), Emily (30 July 1818 – 19 December 1848) and Anne (17 January 1820 – 28 May 1849) were important novelists of the Romanticism and their influence continue now a days.The place has information about their lives and novels, storytelling for children, art&craft activities, shop and special drama performances with scenes from Jane Eyre performed throughout the day in the Parsonage garden. All events are free on payment.

http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/issue-7-numero-7/82-7-arts-arte/299-the-brontes-home-museum

Women have written too by Isabel del Rio on Yareah magazine

2009-08-02T09:38:00.000-07:00

I really like this article:

Constantly, we hear that ancient women cannot read and write -the older they are, the more uneducated- and we presume that women did not go out of the kitchen before the 19th century… What kitchen?

I have been always shocked imagining a woman of the Upper Middle Age, for instance, working in her clean cooker from dawn to sunset while her husband was ploughing with a stick (the steam machine was not still invented) and fighting against Vikings (or other friendly invaders)… Yes, it is a shocking idea because it has nonsense.
The reality is that the majority of people (men or women) was illiterate in the Western World before 1914 and children not in school are still in Africa or Asia; the reality is that everybody was working the land and trying to survive from dawn to sunset; the reality is that only few wealthy people (men, women or hermaphrodites) had time to read, to write or to create master pieces.
Why are there so few famous authoresses then? Well, there are some ones, but all of them with bad luck as the majority of their works have mysteriously disappeared.

Leer más:

http://www.yareah.com/magazine/index.php/numero-4/51-4-arts-arte/117-who-has-written-iquienes-han-escrito