Inspirational Monday. Hair & glases edition

It took me ages to find this picture I remembered so well. Finally, there it was.

My first musical fascination happened around the time when I was in high school (it's said this is exactly the time when such things happen, so nothing exceptional) and was probably my one and only such fascination. At the said time I was practically obsessed with John Frusciante's solo projects. I knew all the lyrics from my favorite albums (To Record Only Water for Ten Days, The Will to Death and some other), I've red and listened to the interviews and – first and foremost – listened to the music. Oh, I even made a drawing that I hung in my room, and the internet still remembers that.

I'm not a teenager any more (thank God!) and my obsession has faded, but my heart still flutters when I hear The Past Recedes, and obviously Frusciante still makes great music. But what's more important here, I recently discovered that there is an image stuck in my head. Yes, the one that you see above.

I think it's form the time of Californication, but it doesn't really matter here. I always loved this photo (even when I was a teenager obsessed with long haired boys). There is a strange seriousness in the glasses, the expression and yes – there is something about the shaven head. Something monk-like, something that suggests a wise person. It might be that this picture came to my mind only now, when I'm on the lookout for a simpler and more sincere life. I also just realized that when I cut my hair I kind of wanted to evoke that feelins. So next time maybe I'll go for a full 3 mm shave? A colleague of mine says that everyone has to go through the shaven-head phase. Is that really so?

Inspirational Monday

via Dustjacket Attic

I'm a sucker for that kind of pictures: bed, pillows, a couple of objects like a cup of coffee, a pair of glasses, a book or a magazine. If there is also morning light involved I might just swoon. They make me feel so cozy, so at home, so safe. I have an entire Pinterest board dedicated to them. Check it: Time to relax.

Znowu Twardoch!

Już o tym pisałam. Wydawało mi się, że problem zniknął, że mogę już bezpiecznie przeglądać gazety bez obaw, że trafię na Szczepana Twardocha. Aż tu nagle w najmniej spodziewanym momencie – leniwa niedziela, czekam na Gosię B. w BAL-u i przeglądam Harper's Bazaar. Nagle spomiędzy stron z cekinami, biżuterią i futerkami wyskakuje on – Szczepan Twardoch. W pierwszej chwili nie poznałam, tak odmienne jest to zdjęcie od tych z Gazety czy Smaku. Jednak postanowiłam dodać je do kolekcji.

Teraz wypadałoby więc wreszcie sięgnąć na tę Morfinę, która czeka na półce od miesięcy.

Inspirational Monday

via thestorycanresume.tumblr.com

For me this photo is about two things. First – focus. I love looking at things through other things. This photo couldn't exist without the model, but it doesn't imply that the focus has to be on the model. Two – embrace the grain. I learned to accept the grain and even appreciate it in black and white pictures. Yet here we have one in color. But still it doesn't bother me. Quite the opposite. I guess it's because it was taken with an analogue camera which prodoces completly different grain than digital cameras.

Inspirational Monday

Photography is about light – I keep forgetting this, but snapshots like the above (by A. William Frederick) are great reminders. Really, it's just a bunch of flowers, white wall and equally white floor. Oh, and a power socket. But the amazing light that comes through the window changes everything.

Inspirational Monday

Picture by Scott Schuman (The Sartorialist)

This picture from The Sartorialist is my strongest inspiration now. It's not big news that Scott Schuman is a great photographer, but here I can really see what he means when he says that he looks for that beam of light. The picture very subtle, not showy at all, almost intimate. Like one of those moments when you just forget about how busy you are and stop to admire something small: how sun comes through the autumn leaves or how the wind moves the laundry on the balcony.

Zen Place

Moja ostatnia wyprawa do Warszawy odbyła się pod hasłem „włosy”. Dermatolog kazał mi obciąć się najkrócej, jak się da, a ze sprawami zdrowotnymi się nie dyskutuje. Przyjęłam ten wyrok z ciężkim sercem, bo od kilku lat praktycznie nie skracałam włosów i sięgały już za łopatki (a to, że i tak zwykle nosiłam je spięte na czubku głowy w koczek Małej Mi, to już inna sprawa).

Tak drastycznego cięcia nie można powierzyć byle komu. Godziny na Pintereście pozwoliły mi na zestawienie fryzur, które najbardziej mi odpowiadają. Tak wyposażona udałam się z Agnieszką do jej zaprzyjaźnionej fryzjerki, Sylwii.

Zakochałam się. Sylwia prowadzi Zen Place – najpiękniejszą pracownię na ziemi, pełną akcesoriów fryzjerskich, kosmetycznych i krawieckich. Malutkie mieszkanie ma też uroczy ogródek, gdzie po traumatycznym cięciu można się zrelaksować z kubkiem zielonej herbaty.

Sylwia zajęła się moimi włosami bardo delikatnie. Cięła jak najdłuższe pasma i odkładała na bok na wszelki wypadek – gdybym źle się czuła w nowej fryzurze, mogłabym zrobić sobie przedłużenia z własnych włosów.

W Zen Place miałam ochotę sfotografować wszystko: mieszkającego tam królika, szmaciane lalki i ozdoby, różowe ściany, kosmetyki, dekoracje, drobiazgi (których było mnóstwo). Przy obróbce zdjęć zdecydowałam się na coś innego niż zwykle, bardziej moim zdaniem pasującego do estetyki pracowni Sylwii.

***

To cut my hair short I went to Sylwia's magical atelier called Zen Place. As it was full of pretty things, I couldn't resist taking a couple (ok, a few dozens) of pictures.

I decided for a different rendering than usually – it seemed more appropriate for the atmosphere of Zen Place.

Brigitte Lacombe for Acne Paper

I like imagining myself in 40 years, an acknowledged designer and photographer, talking about my inspirations and influences. Acne Paper would definitely be among them.

I don't know if there is any other magazine that I adore so much as an object. The paper, the size, the color, the typography. In the last issue they've got me at Baryshnikov. I'm constantly amazed by his dancing and acting skills (go and see young Baryshnikov's solo). He is in such a good shape in spite of his age (65 years for a ballet dancer? it's like being a dinosaur).

His portrait as well as many more in this issue were taken by Brigitte Lacombe who is my number one photographer right now. I spent solid 30 minutes staring at Vito Acconci's portrait not sure if I should cry and laugh hysterically (I'm never gonna be as good) or gasp with amazement (happy that such a beautiful thing can exist).