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@rachelpimp-blog
John Coltrane
I must tell you that we really have no desire to conquer any cosmos. We want to extend the Earth up to its borders. We don’t know what to do with other worlds. We don’t need other worlds. We need a mirror. We struggle to make contact, but we’ll never achieve it. We are in a ridiculous predicament of man pursuing a goal that he fears and that he really does not need. Man needs man!
Solaris (1972) dir. Andrei Tarkovsky
They say love can change a man. I started to find myself more handsome and charming. And suddenly I discovered I was turning blond.
Fallen Angels (1995) dir. Wong Kar-wai
Le Corbusier, 1936
If grandmothers around the world had a rallying cry, it would probably sound something like “You need to eat!”
Photographer Gabriele Galimberti’s grandmother said something similar to him before one of his many globetrotting work trips. To ensure he had at least one good meal, she prepared for him a dish of ravioli before he departed on one of his adventures.
“In that occasion I said to my grandma ‘You know, Grandma, there are many other grandmas around the world and most of them are really good cooks,” Galimberti wrote via email. “I’m going to meet them and ask them to cook for me so I can show you that you don’t have to be worried for me and the food that I will eat!’ This is the way my project was born!”
The project, “Delicatessen With Love”, took Galimberti to 58 countries where he photographed grandmothers with both the ingredients and finished signature dishes.
Galimberti said many of the subjects for the project were selected serendipitously, picked while he was working on a project about couch surfing that explored the global phenomenon of staying in other people’s houses. Since Galimberti never slept in hotels while working on the project, he was able to come into contact with people who introduced him to grandmothers in the area.
Galimberti acted as photographer and stylist during each shoot with the grandmothers, taking a portrait of both the women and the food they made for him.
From top to bottom:
Inara Runtule, 68, Kekava, Latvia. Silke (herring with potatoes and cottage cheese). Grace Estibero, 82, Mumbai, India. Chicken vindaloo.
Susann Soresen, 81, Homer, Alaska. Moose steak.
Serette Charles, 63, Saint-Jean du Sud, Haiti. Lambi in creole sauce.
The photographer’s grandmother Marisa Batini, 80, Castiglion Fiorentino, Italy. Swiss chard and ricotta Ravioli with meat sauce.
Normita Sambu Arap, 65, Oltepessi (Masaai Mara), Kenya. Mboga and orgali (white corn polenta with vegetables and goat).
Julia Enaigua, 71, La Paz, Bolivia. Queso Humacha (vegetables and fresh cheese soup).
Fifi Makhmer, 62, Cairo, Egypt. Kuoshry (pasta, rice and legumes pie).
Isolina Perez De Vargas, 83, Mendoza, Argentina. Asado criollo (mixed meats barbecue).
Bisrat Melake, 60, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Enjera with curry and vegetables.
very very cool.
Chania, Crete. The old town looks so much like Venice.
Fallen Angels (1995) dir. Wong Kar-wai
“As Don Corleone calmly explains his idea of “friendship” to the undertaker Bonasera, the first nearly full-body shot of the don reveals an unexpected guest: a gray and white cat sitting in Marlon Brando’s lap. “The cat in Marlon’s hands was not planned for”, director Francis Ford Coppola said later. “I saw the cat running around the studio, and took it and put it in his hands without a word”. Brando apparently loved children and animals, and it became part of the scene. But it also nearly ruined the shot. When the sound crew listened to Brando’s dialogue, they couldn’t understand a word he was saying and feared they would have to use subtitles. The problem wasn’t Brando but the cat, whose purring wrecked the sound. You can still hear it on the sound track.”
The Godfather (1972) dir. Francis Ford Coppola
I am deeply offended by this due to its accuracy.
Hoje, e como tem sido hábito durante este mês de Agosto, fui trabalhar para o parque de estacionamento da minha avó Fernanda. É uma senhora com um feitio muito particular com o qual tenho dificuldade em lidar. Contudo, gosto bastante dela em retrospectiva. É uma senhora muito sábia na arte do negócio e dinheiro é a sua grande motivação de vida. Quando confrontada com a frase “O dinheiro não é tudo”, ela retorquiu “Não é tudo. Mas eu gosto”.
O parque de estacionamento é o negócio em que investe mais tempo e a sua principal paixão. Fica particularmente animada quando entram caravanas, às quais cobra 5 euros por meio-dia. Costuma engatá-las com o seguinte chamamento: “Ei! Sinhori! Caravana lá! Privado pu dormir, schlafen! Ei”. Quando obedecem ao chamamento, ela oferece-lhes fruta para eles ficarem contentes - fruta esta que lhe foi dada por outra pessoa qualquer. Uma verdadeira mestre na reciclagem de prendas. Consegue não ser apanhada e aparentar simpática aos olhos de grande parte dos seus clientes.
É também mestre a ler a sina de mulheres divorciadas à procura de uma segunda oportunidade no amor. Ao fim de 3 frases genéricas, consegue a confiança total das ditas senhoras, que lhe agradecem muito e se tornam grandes amigas dela. A última disse que da próxima vez trazia melões e melancia. (É assim que recebe a fruta).
Gosta de conviver com todos. Mais ou menos. Atrai vários tipos de pessoas. Pessoas que dizem ver estrangeiros a bater palmas ao pôr do sol. Pessoa cujo filho Micael foi vítima de bullying e ela prejudicou o bully com um par de estalos. Pessoas que fazem nudismo mas se sentem incomodadas pela praga dos gays. Pessoas que vão para a praia pôr a pilinha numa garrafa de plástico. Entre outras. Bruxas também.
A minha avó tem alguns defeitos. Os principais são ser muito chata e acreditar em bruxaria. Ela acredita que as coisas más que nos acontecem são fruto de macumbas feitas por mulheres invejosas do nosso património. Acredita ainda que as segundas mulheres de homens divorciados põem a sua menstruação nos cozinhados para que eles fiquem loucos por elas.
Ainda assim, é uma velhota de “oitenta e um ano” digna de algum respeito e admiração. Este texto era para ser sobre o meu dia, mas depois ficou assim. Não importa. Viva a Fernanda do Salgado.
People sunbathe beside a swimming pool in Charlotte, North Carolina, 1941. Photograph by J. Baylor Roberts, National Geographic Creative
Henri Matisse Jeune Étudiant
Jazz has to adapt.
O hit do meu verão.