writing with light

When the photograph is a mirror of the man, and the man is a mirror of the world, then Spirit might take over.
Minor White

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Sleigh-riding joy while waiting for Santa

Mozart - Symphony 1 in E flat Allegro Molto

It's almost Christmas and it's that part of the year when most childhood remembrances come to life in a joyful hasty flow. Most of them, for which I am most grateful, are still a live reality of every Christmas. I therefore find very suitable Mozart's Symphony.

Morning of Christmas Eve brought the waking up to another level. Lovely smells, escaping from the kitchen, were surrounding every inch of every room. Then running around and changing clothes to rush out the door and meet friends with their sleighs. The kids council exchanging wishes that we'd like to come true after Santa had visited each and everyone of us. Then riding again for hours just to come back home all wet and frozen, candid smiling at mom and dad. After warming up, it was time to decorate the lovely tree. Success seemed so far away, usually depending on how much I grew in height during the year. Then came that important moment when writing was most serious and the whole world depended on it: writing a letter to that mysterious old man in which a list of wishes was put together with the list of personal good deeds of the year. Next, falling asleep in a hidden corner of the house while trying to catch a glimpse of the beloved Santa, the next day surprise and rush when opening presents right under the tree whose smell I was so in love with, not knowing why my parents were having the time of their life looking at me. Later came the gathering of the whole family at the Christmas dinner and the smell of all those delicious Romanian delicacies. Then going out and bragging about the presents together with all other kids, issuing and arguing on different hypothesis on how Santa got in our homes without us seeing him. And only afterward, last but not least, riding again our sleighs that underwent some kind of personal fine touch tuning during the year (of course made by our dads)...or, in some cases, simply riding our own clothes downhill only to fearlessly endure the cold and wetness for hours of laughter.

This year I am thinking of writing to Santa again, after so many years. How about you do it too?

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to you all! I'll be seeing you next year.

Monday, December 07, 2009


The grace. A kind caress for the eye.
The gentleness. An ineffable sense of touch.
Like a dance.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Caragiale. The (ex-)communists. The tormented citizen. The elections.

T w e n t y years lacking o n e month apart, I get the shivers.

O n e H u n d r e d T w e n t y F i v e years ago, on Friday the 13th of November, the Bucharest National Theater hosted a major success. For the first time, the comedy entitled A lost letter (O scrisoare pierduta - ro.) met face to face with its public, the Romanian people. It was to find its place among the most renowned Romanian works of literature, whereas its creator, Ion Luca Caragiale, found his among the greatest Romanian minds. A vivid mirror of the moment's political struggle, corruption and moral petty theft, the depicted characters and events have been haunting us ever since, but lately they've been more than ever in the bone marrow of the society. Caragiale is either laughing at us or he is ashamed and deeply disappointed. I do all three. I wouldn't be amazed if he does so, too.

Closing in even more, as stated in the very beginning, we find ourselves t w e n t y years lacking o n e month apart from the social movement which, at the origin, some call it la révolution and others call it coup d'état (December 1989). History (people) won't tell. Sadly enough though, we are not far from Caragiale's characters, either. Au contraire. One might see a mixture of it with ex-communist structures still in place. The Romanian people would love to think that communists are a distant memory. Some have probably come to believe it. Whereas some are reluctant to close that eye and come to terms with that chapter. Some things are apparently not completely dealt with.

I believe time will take us on the right path. But this will happen only if one takes responsibility and chooses not to embrace ignorance. I would love to prove wrong the following wisdom quotes:
'Ignorance is bliss'
'A people has the leaders it deserves'

There is a song which is known by most of the people that were at least 6 or 7 years old at the time of the recent event. I could not load it, but I can show you, dear reader, the path to it and to its lyrics (in Romanian) - song and lyrics. I believe those lyrics have the same meaning if sang today as they used to have t w e n t y years lacking o n e month ago. Thank you Caragiale. Thank you Valeriu Sterian. For not letting us forget.

Unfortunately, Caragiale's tormented citizen is still asking himself as you're reading:

"Eu cu cine votez?" stands for "Whom do I cast my vote for?"

Location: Bucharest, Romania, 21st of November 2009

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Avatars of Minstrel #1

Music by Vivaldi - Winter in Fa minor, Largo

Somewhere, on the corner of a street, there's a a lost fragment of a long forgotten silence. The city's tremors and hubbub are broken, yet silence has a new cloth which fills the air with smooth vibrance and peace. The Minstrel is there. And for an unknown reason to the rushed passers, he is and always will be there, somewhere. On that corner, or on the next one, or in the heart of those who shall stop time when passing by and then listen to his silence heal wounds of rush and worries.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Playful autumnal ray of light - part I

Music by Thoman Newman

Beauty in the creation of life ends in beauty. It is perhaps only a matter of reaching it. And thereafter the rest of everyday life passing hours will seem...just playfully colored in beauty.

Location: Romania, DN1A, close to Cheia, October 2009

Playful autumnal ray of light - part II

Music by Thoman Newman

Location: Romania, DN1A, close to Cheia, October 2009

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


Music by Vangelis - "Dreams of Surf

Bridges we build across valleys, across mountains, or rivers. Bridges we build between us. Bridges open paths to places we want to reach. Beyond this one, the gentle touch of the setting sun had laid ahead a peaceful song of silence, a realm of calm winds dancing between leaves of grass that on the ground shed stories of the old vikings.

Sweden, Steninge, July 2009

The picture will be displayed in the gallery of the Print&Sign fair, Romexpo Bucharest, between September 30th - October 3rd, following the selection for the "Fii in rand cu profesionistii" Epson & Nikon contest.

Monday, September 07, 2009


Some moments and countenances cannot be spoken simply because the feeling transcends my understanding. I could guess a father's emotion, a couple's inner bond, but the maternal feelings...maybe the most complex and the strongest around. I can only admire, smile and observe with candid pleasure.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Pride or Prejudice

Music by Moby - "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad"

How does one define a superior being? By one's actions or representation and reflections of self?
They just are as a result of one's definition. One chooses how they are and how one self defines.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Still steel

Music by Bear McReary - "Pegasus"

A stormy day, when winds of North found the top of the Bucegi mountains to be the best playground for their restless speeding contests, revealed once again snow's creativity.
Steel structures stood still. They listened to a deep silence, broken only by small snow crystals smashing against their steel flesh. They endured rough winds, sudden roars of cold, vows of eternal haunting. Yet they were still, unmoved and silent. The night brought back a liberating mist of stars, which turned into curtains of light and clouds at sunrise. The steel had grizzled over night and snow became its coat. It held prisoner part of the storm's fury and lust for wandering inside its most inner bonds, thus freezing steel into what felt like a restless stillness.

Monday, July 06, 2009

Pearl III

Music by Paul Haslinger - "The end"

What a beauty! Close to perfection the piano's voice is accompanied by whispers of violins.
In the early minute of the day, their warm melodious embrace feels like rays of sunrise falling upon drops of dew. The dew shivers of pleasure and so does the spider web which has been patiently awaiting to capture a glimpse of its beauty. And thus a pearl takes birth. A pearl so precious because it lasts just until another early minute of the day passes by.

Saturday, June 27, 2009


I have decided to bring the diaphanous muse of late written words and creative seeing within every new dialogue. Below thou hath it. Play it...and then...

Music by Bear McCreary - "Battlestar Sonatica"

Salt, as part of each of us, of our flesh and blood, is either bounty or poison. A spice that used to glow of gold in times of wanderers and wonders. Today nothing else but a second hand commodity...still, where available.
History has made a habit out of spiraling in a nebula of time, something similar to what mother Gaea's been doing. This is what eyes taste out of salt's history when nature comes together with man. Each one alone, both of them together. Shadow or light, lavishness or pure art?

Monday, June 08, 2009

First breathe outside, fresh look

6th of June 2009
Orange Concept Store on Calea Victoriei blvd. in Bucharest

The opening day of the first exhibition, a solo, of a selection of my works. Some of them can be seen here, some cannot. But soon will 'can'. An exhibition for which I am grateful to my Oana as she put all her trust and energy in making it possible. And she had a lot to cope with. Artists, should I indeed deserve this most honorable title, are difficult to deal with at some point or another.
An exhibition with no apparent thematic, but a glimpse over a path and a place within.

So for the next two weeks my works are going to be up there, watching the light changing itself, themselves and, why not, you.

I'll be waiting you! Be welcome!

P.S.: things to come

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Vinul dulce al amintirilor si-al versurilor holografice

Si-a fost odat', un revelion supersonic, caruia i-a urmat o dimineata...in alta viata, pe-ale carei cantece am fredonat si mai fredonez si azi.

Lor: " Am fost atata timp fara tine, Dar vremea trece oricum fara noi. Culorile se duc de la sine. Dac-a fost sa fie asa, nu e vina ta. Si te-as intreba: E dimineata in alta viata?
Am o intalnire. Sase oameni bine. Fiecare mi-e prieten. Toata lumea stie. Publicul ne-asteapta, de partea cealalta. E orgie in seara asta si-o s-o facem lata! "

" Mama nu m-a dat de mic la scoala. Am mai stat acasa inc-un an... "

" Un prieten bun, un zambet curat, un cer senin cand norii au plecat, un gol perfect in ultimul minut: emotia unui inceput. Daca stii sa privesti, orice clipa e o minune. "

" Te trezesti intr-o dimineata si te uiti in oglinda, dar nu mai recunosti nimic...Te revolti, te revolti, si-ti vine sa urli de durere si ma intrebi, ma intrebi ce cauti tu pe acest pamant. Dar raspunsul, raspunsul la toate intrebarile tale, raspunsul il ai doar tu.

Nopti fara vise, intrebari fara raspuns, imi trezesc din amintire sufletul ascuns. Dincolo de nori, e o raza de lumina ! Dincolo de nori, e lumea mea ! "

" E un gol, peste o apa, peste care trebuie sa trec. E un loc care m-asteapta si un drum pe care trebuie sa merg. Nu stiu sigur ce-o sa aflu sau daca o sa ajung la mal, o dar sunt sigur, foarte sigur ca acolo-i taina mea.

Prietenii mi-au zis sa vin acasa, sa-ncerc sa fac ceva cu viata mea. N-am ascultat de nimeni. Nu-mi pasa! Si mi-am urmat in lume calea mea. Anii au trecut pe langa mine, si nu-mi aduc aminte ce-a fost rau. Am nevoie acum de-o minune, sa fiu din nou asa cum am fost eu. "

" Poti sa ma torni intr-un pahar cu apa sau sa ma uiti pe fundul marii printre pestii rapitori, sa ma lasi sa plutesc pe un val in Marea Moarta, sau din cer cu ploaia incet sa ma cobor. Dar sa nu-mi iei niciodata dragostea

Sunt un balcanic,
deci sunt gelos si sigur ma oftic amarnic. Si nu mizati nici pe calmul meu britanic. Imi place vinul rosu si femeia blonda doar cu conditia sa fie rubiconda. Imi place sa iubesc frumos, deci sunt balcanic. Sunt un balcanic. Sunt mincinos, frumos, gelos si ofticos. Scandalagiu, diliu, nebun si ageamiu

Ai, ai, am bulit-o!"

Textele italice apartin versurilor formatiei Holograf.

PS: " Vrei sa vezi doar ce vrei sa vezi, vrei sa simti doar ce vrei sa simti, vrei sa fii doar cum vrei sa fii, vrei sa iubesti doar cum vrei tu. Iar daca tot n-ai inteles de ce traiesti pe acest pamant ridica-ti ochii in sus spre cer si ai sa auzi, si ai sa auzi raspunsu-n gand "