Fahrelnissa Zeid is renowned for her vibrant abstract paintings – a colourful and energetic fusion of Islamic, Byzantine, Arab and Persian influences with a pronounced European touch: the result of her being trained at École de Paris (School of Paris) in the 1950s and leading a cosmopolitan life as Prince and Iraqi ambassador Zeid Al-Hussein’s wife. Fahrelnissa Zeid was also an important figure in the avant-garde d Group that opened the doors for contemporary art trends in Turkey during the early 1940s.
What’s your mantra? Self-help lingo aside, everyone seems to have a more or less conscious affirmation that gets them out of bed every morning, through stressful situations at their workplace and out that monthly/seasonal/yearly funk.
[You know that state when you’re perfectly aware that life can be marvellous and full of possibilities but they feel out of reach. Or reaching them would require a) getting out of your pyjamas and into proper clothes, b) realising that there is no better time than now, and c) deciding what it is you want and going after it at full speed.]
Summer’s already halfway gone and you’re behind with your 2017 Reading Challenge? Read my recommendations below about two books that will help you get back on track again!
Serifos is like an introductory class to the typical landscape of the Cyclades islands, a small group of Greek islands in the middle of the Aegean Sea, southeast of mainland Greece. The name refers to the islands around (κυκλάς) the sacred island of Delos.
Steep mountain slopes with low, scarce vegetation that end abruptly in mesmerizing blue sea. Long sandy beaches with nowhere to hide from the bright, ruthless Aegean sun but for a few tamarisk trees here and there. Low, square buildings in the unmistakable white and blue that sets Cyclades architecture apart and narrow unruly streets that resemble a maze. Continue Reading
Imitation is the ultimate flattery, they say. In an attempt to imitate my brother’s approach to the things he loves, I decided to start embracing my guilty pleasures.In case you haven’t read my previous post on all the things I’ve learned from my somewhat younger but somehow wiser brother D, he is the kind of person that has the admirable quality of being shamelessly affectionate towards certain things (or people) without caring about other people’s opinions. So that’s what I aspire to do, embrace my guilty pleasures and share them openly; shifting them to the category ‘Things I Wholeheartedly Love (and That Make My Eyes Sparkle with Joy When I Talk About Them).
When I say guilty pleasures, I refer mainly to cultural artefacts of questionable quality. In a world where the world cool will one day become acceptable even for resumes and LinkedIn profiles, one has to watch/read/visit/listen/be informed about the right things so as to classify as cool. And this is, more or less, how the idea of guilty pleasures began. The term sums up all the things we enjoy but only in private so as not to be judged for our tastes.
Goals, unlike resolutions, have a finite end. It is ‘I will run a marathon’ vs. ‘I will exercise more often’; ‘I will save enough to take a trip to New Zealand’ vs. ‘I will be more careful with my spending’; ‘I’ll graduate with distinctions’ vs. ‘I will study every day and not only the week before the exams’.
One of my 2016 goals was to read 40 books in a year.
To adopt a resolution you have to decide what you want from life.
Well, in 2017, I wish to be … happy.
Happier, to be precise.
Resolutions. Some make them, some avoid making them, many get over-optimistic about them, few end up keeping them.
I’m a resolutions person. At the beginning of each year, I enjoy imagining that this year, this specific year will be different. Don’t get me wrong, they always are. Just not in the ways that we expect them to be. Continue Reading
When I told my family and friends that I was going on a trip on my own, a short pause of silence always followed my statement. They would look at me with a mixture of suspicion and alarm. ‘Like, completely on your own?’, they would ask.
To put this in context (as translators and linguists often feel the need to do), I come from a culture where mundane instances of everyday life are often turned into opportunities for socialising and doing things on your own is usually looked down at as some sign that your social life (or mental health) is suffering. Didn’t I have a friend that would like to go with me? If I couldn’t find company why was I going in the first place?
Truth is sometimes the stars (along with friends’ schedules and budgets) do not align and one is faced with the following life-or-death question: How badly did you want to visit Copenhagen?