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Where does the light come from?

, originally uploaded by MARIA GABRIELA M.

Bamboo Light

Bamboo Light, originally uploaded by MARIA GABRIELA M.

I took this pictures at Botanical Gardens. It was a rainy day, and I was literally fighting with my old camera. This is one of the last pictures taken with it, that's why it's so special.
Oh, the old camera retired after six years of amazing service.

Life is like a white canvas ready to be filled with joy

The last two weeks have been quite a ride. My mind seems to be playing tricks on me, and for a few minutes day, it travels back in time. The smells, the sounds, the trees, a single word: everything takes me to the past. Things bygone are coming back, and they seem real. Maybe it's just the way of saying goodbye to things that made me who I am, and welcoming a new world of opportunities. Maybe it's time to remember the happiest moments ever.
After all, life is like a white canvas ready to be filled with joy and nothing should cast a shadow of sadness upon it.

Pieces of music

Pieces of music, originally uploaded by MARIA GABRIELA M.

As I was walking through Crown St., I found this little room. It was empty and dusty, I guess it used to be a book shop or café. The lighting was what first impressed me, but then I found this shattered corner.

Just sand

Just sand, originally uploaded by MARIA GABRIELA M.

I found this in a construction site near UTS. She reminds me of La Catrina.

Life sans Louise

Two years ago my life changed. I went to LA to visit a dear friend who took me to the Museum of Contemporary Art. I did not want to go, quite frankly, contemporary art is not my cup of tea, but then the spider was there. I remembered having seen one at the TATE years ago, but this was different. And there she was, my first approach to Louise Burgoise, who died today after 98 years of creating beauty. I have no words to express all the things that her art did for me in those three hours that I spent in looking carefully, enjoying, suffering, each of the works that composed that exhibition. I go back to her art at least once a week, just to make sure she is still there, speaking to me in that kind and loving way that only true artists can do. She will be missed.

Mommy Issues

Usually we blame our father's for our broken relationships and failed marriages. But what about the mothers? What happens when your mother is not your best friend? When you cannot have a conversation with her? When you do not look up to her? In The Secret Lives if Pipa Lee the answer is revealed. Rebecca Miller delivers such a strong and intimate screenplay, although sometimes filled with cliches, that this movie simply break your heart. The acting is not as good as might be expected, but it will not let you down. This is a film designed by women, for women, and men might dislike some parts. The Secret Lives of Pipa Lee is a beautiful exercise about love, marriage, kids and new beginnings. Specially new beginnings. This is the trailer.

Beautiful Pet

My Pet, originally uploaded by MARIA GABRIELA M.

17th Biennale of Sydney
Cockatoo Island

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Adultescence

I had to grow-up quite quickly, I didn't want to, but I had to. It's a long story which I don't like to remember, but I always wonder what would have happened if... If, that word, that silly word. I do love it. If... If I had, If I could, If I should... how many times have I used it? I don't know, but I'm sure that in my vocabulary it's as common as NO.
Today I'll just throw another if: IF, but this one is in capital letters.

Such great news

A new approach to understanding our fascination with Literature.


http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/01/books/01lit.html

What Is a Man?

What Is a Man?

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How to train your dragon

This is a great film. I simply enjoyed it. It reminded me of Pete the Dragon, but only because of the friendship between the boy and the 'beast'; both films are quite different. How to train your dragon is so far away from the stupid cliches of movies aimed more for the parents than for the kids, that it becomes quite interesting for adults. The beginning invites you to a new world, a world you instantly believe that exists out there. Here the trailer, just in case you haven't seen it. I just hope that the producers don't transform this beautiful piece into a multimillion franchise without a soul.

It's so easy to become a monologue.

Wrote this it today, it was part of one of the writing workshops I'm undertaking. We had to practice poetry for children.

My mom it at work
It's late and I'm alone
I'm eight and I'm bored

My sister is studying
She's looked in my room
I can't get my toys
I'm eight and I'm bored

My dad promised we'd play
But he won't say a word
He's just lying in bed
I'm eight and I'm bored

And my birthday is here
And I'm all alone
I'm nine and I'm bored

She hides next to my bed almost every night. I don't know what she wants or why she is here. She's been death for ages, almost ten years. I don't remember her voice, 'cause she lost it when I was only 12 years-old; and I don't remember her smile, 'cause she spent the last years of her life trying to talk to mirrors, mouth crooked, shouting, pulling her hair of. I don't remember her, but she's hunting me. In the nights she laughs at me, her spirit comes down and tries to choke me. I even feel her bony fingers trying to pull me feet and drag me into a place I don't want to go. And she is not a ghost, she is my death grandmother who is visiting me everynight, and I don't recognize her, but then I never really knew her.

THE BUNYIP

No more wheel of fortune

Once I read that you become a true citizen of the city you live in when something that you really love about it changes. One of my very first memories of Sydney is Darling Harbour and its wheel of fortune. Every night I could see its reflection from M's place, and when I moved to my own place it was part of the scenery that used to accompany me every time I crossed to the other side of the City. Yesterday night, as I was walking to my place, I saw a huge truck next to the wheel, its carts where already down and half of it had no light. It's gone, and I miss it.

Fancy a cup of tea?

Soy un poco despistada y de pronto olvido o dejo las cosas en los lugares menos esperados. He dejado el cepillo en el refri, las llaves dentro del coche, los libros en la alacena y los platos en el clóset, pasa. Es algo con lo que he aprendido a vivir, es una característica muy mía que me ha acompañado toda la vida. La gente que me conoce bien sabe que pierdo las cosas todo el tiempo (tal vez me acompaña un fantasma cachetón que se divierte escondiéndime las cosas). Mi papá siempre me decía que era porque los genios pensábamos en cosas más importantes. Me encantaba su comparación, pero sé que sólo lo decía para hacerme sentir bien y suavizar el regaño de mi madre, pobre, ella era quien pasaba horas tratando de encontrar mis objetos 'perdidos'. La cosa ha mejorado, ya no pierdo toooodo, sólo algunas cosas. Pero hace un mes sucedió algo inesperado. Compré un set de cuatro tazas para el té-café y perdí una. Primero culpé a C, pues él es peor que yo: siempre rompé algo, pero fue tal su carita de sorpresa que le creí. Sé que él no rompió la taza. Ya busqué en el horno, en el clóset, en el baño y en cada uno de los rincones de casita y nada... Ahora creo que el fantasma cachetón se la llevó, me preguntó si sólo querrá una tazita de té.

At the Powerhouse Museum

http://artefact.powerhousemuseum.com/

Rage

Yesterday I felt for the very first time how my blood became thicker and rushed from my finger-tips to my head when I heard the name of certain person that recently tried to harm me. Afterwards, I felt bad with myself because I felt not only anger, but something quite similar to hate. Like in a bad cliche, I had to go down to the pool and literally swam the feeling away. The water absorbed all that bad energy.

Time goes by

Wow, it's been almost seven months since I last wrote something here. It was not that I had nothing to say, on the contrary, lots of stuff were going on. I confess it was my office, I had so many things to do that I completely forgot about myself... and my friends and my family and my hobbies and that part of my job that I really used to love and enjoyed with a deep, true passion... and well, the list could go on and on. I guess this happens to everyone once or twice in a life. But it's so hard to let go. After all, offices are usually part or our routine and as time goes by most of them become part of our comfort zone. And if you don't stop, if you don't get the courage to stop or just to do something about this never ending spiral of work-home-eat-sleep-work-home-eat-sleep you do die a little, you become a hollow man.
A few months ago I remembered who I was when I was younger, I remembered the passion that used to move me every time I got a new assignment. I'm only 32, but still, there was a younger version of me who wanted to take pictures and travel around the world and become a writer.
I recently rediscovered my long lost love of toast with honey and butter and that tingly sensation that coffee produces in your mouth when you really enjoy it -not when you just drink it real quick to actually wake up, and it felt so good.
I'm not complaining, I'm just trying to rediscover who am I. Better now than never. I would have loved to be in this position when I was twenty-something, but it was impossible. If a look back, I think I wasted most of my twenties. If I were writing a biography, my twenties would most definitely be the wasted years, but I'll dwell about latter -and most surely I will have a different version of them as I get older and hopefully wiser.
At 32 I get a chance to star almost all-over again, and it feels great!