"It Melts"

God Jul (Happy Holidays)

It takes a lot of effort to make Copenhagen seem uninviting. I'm going to miss finding those unique frames in a picturesque city.

Personality

I climbed on the ruins

to get a better picture of this sign.

Cinematheque Francaise

In Paris, I ventured out on a metro line to find the French cinema museum.  After a few wrong turns, I happened upon Place Leonard Bernstein in front of a gorgeous institution sitting on the brim of a park-oasis. The museum inside the Cinemateque had two exhibits: a permanent collection of Henry Langois'(basically all of film history in a visual nutshell) and a temporary show highlighting Hair and its use in the sexual politics of film.

Living history.  I wish I had visited this place 50 and 55 years ago.

Notable items:
-the machine-man from Metropolis. Not as tall in real life as I thought but still a wonderfully complex suit.  Funny that this resides in Paris and not Berlin.  In the German filmhouse, they only have a replica.
-a section of gears from the machine that Chaplin is sucked into in Modern Times
-basically every single primitive camera and/or projection device ever created. I spent hours looking at zoetropes, lantern boxes, etc.  The museum cleverly separated the Lumiere stuff from the Edison stuff with a "choose a side" partition.
-the spiraly box from Un Chien Andalou. It has red piping!
-a plethora of pictures of Catherine Deneuve, Penelope Cruz, Naomi Watts, Jane Fonda, etc. in the hair exhibit. There were tons of other pictures too. Male gaze, my power.
-a short film by Abbas Kiarostami about hair, made specifically for the exhibit.  It was recorded in Iranian and subtitled in French.  It consisted of 5 or 6 head-on interviews with young girls.  The "director" attempts to gain their trust and then get them to cut off their hair.  None of them will, and they sit there and argue with the "director" about why not.  It was quite fascinating. Kiarostami sure loves destroying innocence only to have it win out in the end.  (Close-Up is one of my all time favorite films)

Notable thoughts:
-Hair is severely overlooked in film theory.  Kracauer, Mulvey.....and then?
-Henry Langois is my new personal hero.  I feel like I would've had his life if I were born to see the advent of a golden age.
-Bunuel has beautiful handwriting.
-Cocteau's star is even more glorious in person.
-I really love French film  I also really love film history.  Never ask me to rank history, theory, and practice--my head will explode.
-Oddly enough, the German film museum had a lot more about Jean Gabin (through his days with Marlene Dietrich) than the French museum.


All in all, this museum provided me with one of the best days of the trip from my trip.  Meta study-abroad.

A final paper

I go to school here in Denmark.  Sometimes, I have assignments.

For two of my classes with similar themes, I was allowed to combine each class' separate term paper into one mega-paper.

Memory and Identity: Czech Republic + History of European Film= a paper about the political and social implications derived from the aesthetics and style of Closely Observed Trains, a film made right before the Prague Spring in 1968 and subsequent Czech cultural movements, in light of constant oppression(s).

I found this chart online, and it's basically my paper. Thank you for including the sliver about trains.

For anyone that isn't familiar with the highly-unpublicized blanket movement known as the Czech New Wave in film history, Closely Observed Trains is a great place to start.  It's intelligently funny, somewhat absurd, still thematically relevant, and powerful as it builds to an existential conclusion.  Also, it's all about Sex.  It won an Oscar, too.

Let the writing continue.

Apartment Wildlife

Someday

My favorite thing about Rome...

Coconut Waterfalls

For the film geeks

Here is a "stolen" picture from inside the German Filmhaus Museum.  It's a model of the studio in which The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was shot.  Caligari's office in the mental asylum faces Jane's bedroom. Creepy(er).

Miniature expressionism!  I also saw a model for the filming of M.  That was one elaborate set.  Lang diagrammed every square inch (centimeter?) of the space in his attic set to find unconventional angles.  His personal storyboards looked like blueprints.

More film stuff to come!

No, pictures were not allowed inside.

Vask

(vask means "wash" in Danish)

Transformation

Snowpenhagen

Skeletal winter begins.

Mentos Update

MENTOS SIGHTING: On the ferry between Germany and Denmark.  Duty-free, boat-exclusive, massive-tubes filled with Mentos.  The let down(s): the tubes are filled with 5 rolls of Mentos, and they are expensive. I really wanted giant, tube-sized Mentos. In my opinion, going giant is the best step a candy can take (if you disagree, let me remind you of GIANT SWEETTARTS).  I even would've settled for a tube filled to the brim with loose Mentos.  Thankfully, I was able to discern the contents without buying.  A mystery remains, though.  The tube promises the flavors of Watermelon, Mango, and Orange.  Seeing how Watermelon gets one side and Mango/Orange get the other, I assume that Mango/Orange is one flavor.  If not one flavor, it must be a single roll of Mentos with both Mango and Orange inside.  I wonder, though, if there are supposed to be five rolls inside the tube, the distribution of flavors cannot be equal.  There must be an extra roll of either Watermelon or Mango/Orange (if the three should happen to be separate rolls, then there has to be one flavor with only one roll inside).  Is it three Watermelons and two Mango/Oranges? Or is it three Mango/Oranges and two Watemelons?  Or...could it be five rolls containing the odd mix of Mango/Orange & Watermelon? This question will haunt me. Also, if the disparity turns out to be true and, say, there is one more Watermelon roll than Mango/Orange, where did that decision come from?  Someone in this world works for Perfetti Corp and has a serious bone to pick with Mango/Orange, giving Watermelon such an unfair advantage.  Just by the nature of the package, Watermelon is given equal billing, but Mango/Orange is no match for an extra roll.  Watermelon will live on in the minds of the consumers because of its dominance while Mango/Orange will be forgotten.  If I was to buy the tube and get three Watermelons and two Mango/Oragnes, I'd bookend my consumption with Watermelon rolls and layer the underdog rolls inbetween.  This type of neat-eating would leave Watermelon as the last taste in my mouth, memory, and heart (regardless of quality or flavor).  The structure of this type of "special" packaging doesn't allow for a balanced or informed taste experience.   This is the Darwinian battlefield of some marketing guy at Perfetti Corp. I will not indulge unless you give me an even number of rolls. This is taste eugenics.  

I always knew it would start with Mentos. 

Mini Mentos!  Sadly, I couldn't actually buy any Mini Mentos.  This sign overlooks a children's playarea in a Mediamall near Alexanderplatz in Berlin. The playarea is Mentos-themed, though. And by that, I mean that these signs lined the long rectangle of squishy floor and germ-ridden blocks these kids were fortunate enough to have to entertain themselves. I like that you are going for them young, Mentos.  You definitely don't have anything to worry about in terms of a choking hazard, you can definitely go mini.  Or, if you are planning to pull something akin to the Tobacco industry to hook-em-while-they-are-young, you should make your harmful product into candy, like the candy cigarette.  Oh wait, you already are candy. I guess you could try making some lethal form of your candy if you want to go for reserve psychology.  How about you just make a roll of Mentos that is lead-flavored?

I figured it out.  Mini Mentos are definitively made of lead.  Stay away. 

Mentos Green Apple, German-style: still delicious, a little more tart than the ones we have in the States. Grade: B+

Mentos RAINBOW: This is it.  This is the pinnacle of a Mentos roll.  Not only do you get seven delicious flavors, but the individual Mentos sit, geographically, with their external picture on the sleeve.  You always know what flavor is next!  Here is my ranking of the flavors, from best to a slightly lesser best: Raspberry, Lime, Grape, Strawberry, Green Apple, Pineapple, Orange. 

I feel horrible having to rank the flavors.  

Overall: A+

A life in Milan

told through three photos. 

Voca People

One of them has a beard.  He is bass, obviously.

Descending Luggage

The three pieces of luggage are sized according to the height of the girls. Totally subconscious feelings about their place in the friendship emerge. Taken while on a train.

Interesting circumstances

I snapped this picture with my cell phone, covertly, on the train from Milan to Florence. I was seated across from this pair.  On entry to the train, I judged them to be a Father/Daughter team.  Soon, though, she was kissing him and affectionately rubbing his leg.  They spoke English, and from what I could gather, they had just met a few days before in Milan.  They were both lone travelers on a European vacation.  She fell in love with him.  He is around seventy to seventy-five years old, I imagine.  She can't be more than thirty-five. Comparisons to Lost in Translation aside, I started thinking about the stigmas they must face everywhere they go.  Then I started thinking about motivations.  She must be filling some daddy-issue in her life.  She must be taking him for every penny he's got.  She must be piggybacking on his cathartic woefulness. He must be unable to let go of his past.  He must be using his money to buy himself companionship. He must be latching onto her youthful spirit to inject, vicariously,some meaning into his existence. 

They conversed for about a half an hour before she dozed off on his shoulder.  She spoke of elementary education and bliss principles.  He muttered few words, but he pierced her ideas with his understanding eyes. She slept. He read the maps.  He slept.

As I watched them, attached to each other, not willing to let go, I let go.  I forgot for a moment my cultural stigmas.  I reminisced on their conversation, not the words, but the meanings.  She was trying to impress him with her low-key brilliance.  Her face was worn not with signs of age, but with youth.  She was pock-marked, but otherwise pretty, as if some cruel fate had aged her in reverse. He had lines and years on his face, but beneath it all, kind eyes filled to the brim with wisdom, as if they were recording.  These two made a connection.  However fickle or impulsive, I was not to judge.   

 I caught his eye during a readjustment.  It spoke of timelessness. 

I wanted to let him know that I was no longer one of the crowd. Beyond history, apart from history, because of history, they found each other.  Their continued presence had affected a change in me.  I had surpassed that medium amount of time, when their relationship had ripened enough to fill my perspective with joy.  I sent my well wishes to the sleeping couple as I slithered out of my seat to the exit.  

I made sure not to disturb them. 

Brussels

Yes, this pretty much sums it up.

Amsterdam

The first and last photos are of a carnival that occupied city square during the weekend.  This carnival had an intense teacup ride that lasted about 6 minutes and intermittently slipped into hyperseed mode.  I'll try to post a video of it soon. It was the most intense 6 minutes of my trip, reasons abound. The second photo shows the sign to my new favorite restaurant Wok 2 Walk.  You go in, choose a meat, sauce, veggie, and noodle and they wok it up for you right there on the spot.  Then it comes to you steaming-hot in a to-go china box.  Incredibly delicious.  My favorite (yes, i had it four times in a two day period) combination was rice noodle, chicken, broccoli, and teriyaki sauce.  The place feels exactly like a Chipotle inside, with its omnipresent, matte metallic surfaces, streamlined menu, and street-food gentrification. I have a theory about this place that I will be able to test once they franchise to Americatown.  I think that the chef/wokmaster of the day preselects a combination at the beginning of his shift.  If he picks egg noodle, tofu, pineapple, and sweet & sour sauce, and you order egg noodle, tofu, pineapple, and sweet & sour sauce, you get your wok free.  Or a free drink.  Or you get to ring a bell.  I didn't have enough time in Amsterdam to test this theory properly, and I'm glad I didn't have enough time in Amsterdam to test this theory properly. The third picture captures, in reflection and ripple, some smoke hovering over the canal.  If I had staged this picture at night, the duck would have been a white swan (as white swans dominate the canals in the Red Light District) and the smoke...smoke. The fourth picture is of my hostel for two-nights.  I stayed on a boat.  Ask me sometime about the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to me, because it happened on this boat. 

More pictures and stories to come.  My sleep schedule is back on track, and its too cold in Copenhagen to go outside for any extended period of time.  I'll be spending a lot more time inside feeling "hygge". 

To begin

Here are five pictures from five different European cities: Paris, Marseille, Rome, Milan, and Amsterdam.  I sense a similar aesthetic.

Back in Copenhagn

I just got back to my apartment in Copenhagen.  After I recoop a little bit, I will update with lots of pictures, videos, and interesting stories.  I documented the hell out of this trip.  I just need to sort it all out.

Two week travel break

I'm off to Amsterdam, Antwerp, Brussels, Paris, Lyon, Nice, Milan, Florence, Rome, Marseilles, and Berlin.  Plus, many other stops along the way. Expect tons of updates in two weeks!

I love the former Eastern Bloc

This is on the door of bar in the Czech Republic. Humor is the best medicine.

Raiders of the Lost Ark

What better way to judge a city

than by the flavours of Mentos readily available in the markets closest to your home?

This is an ongoing obsession of mine. More to come.

Reviews:

'n' Cream Mentos: One homogenous flavor that kind of tastes like cool whip and lime. Finishes better than it starts. I could barely finish the pack (I finished the pack, don't worry). Not going to buy again.

Fresh Cola:  Great flavor.  The outer shell tastes like hot cinnamon while the inside tastes like flat RC cola with a tangy bite.  A repeat buy. 

Inside the Prague Symphony House

I like when there is a crack in the veneer.  I also like to think that the maintenance crew in charge of the up-keep for this national treasure of a building his similar sensibilities.  I'd rather hear a justification than see it fixed.  I like to think that it keeps fresh the illusion buried by constructs before our eyes. All we need is a tiny, insignificant reminder.

Do you ever look above you when you are walking down the stairs?

The Air is On Fire

I spent my Saturday inside the GL Strand museum.  All three floors of the museum are currently occupied with one exhibit, David Lynch's installation The Air is On Fire.  The show contains all of Lynch's visual work starting with doodles from a notebook in the 70s and continuing through 40 years of work in different mediums. He even created two mini-sculptures specifically for this Copenhagen show.  I attended this show on a Saturday in the afternoon.  The museum faces the harbor and sits on a very quaint, sunny street.

Very quaint.  Upon entry to the exhibit, one is hit with immediate soundscapes and implications.  There are sculptures in the corners of virtually every room that have these slightly hidden red buttons. I pushed every one of them.  I love installation pieces that force activity from curious viewers.  Something about the risk/reward relationship intrigues me to no end. I love becoming complicit with my own actions, but is that ever a good thing? Anyway, each push immediately changes the soundscape of the room, usually with a shocking or unpleasant sound that lasts a few minutes or so.  Not only did I become part of some kind of atmospheric game, I garnered the attention of other passers-by.  And many many passers-by there were. Saturday afternoon seems to draw an older crowd to the museum scene--more on that later. Besides the button pushing, the exhibit was a pretty straight-forward chronicle of Lynch's work.  As I reached the top floor, though, I found what I was looking for: the screening room.  Lynch personally donated his entire short-works library.  I sat there in an uncomfortable museum "get-in-and-go" chair for about 3 hours until the DVD looped back to the beginning.  What a wonderful screening.  I was sitting in the back row of about six rows.  All six rows in front of me were occupied by white-haired, older women--about 24 women in all.  They must've been part of a tour group, but they sat there with me the entire duration of the screening.  On top of that, they did not move.  They did not shift in their seats.  I thought this might have been part of the exhibit, but on very rare occasions, I heard a few gutteral, visceral reaction noises.  I never thought I would be soothed by the sounds of a phlegmy cough, but I was thankful to know that they were real people.  The screening itself was wonderful.  The standout short film for me was Lynch's AFI project, The Grandmother.  The art direction in the film (the sets look like what I imagine German expressionist backgrounds would look like in 3D) was superb and the switch between animation and the live-action "nightmare" aesthetic told the story of growing up and accepting one's family and one's place very well.  Other standouts include: Boat, Out Yonder Neighbor Boy, and his industrial soundscapes.  What I love most about Lynch as a filmmaker is the way he uses the physicality of the medium to tell a separate story simultaneously with the narrative.  That might sound like the task of any filmmaker, but its never as apparent to me as when I watch Lynch. I just aspire to be able to create an aesthetic tone that can comment on the narrative while the narrative is occurring...but not be too obvious or too heavy-handed about it.  I guess I am trying to say that no matter how outlandish or surrealistic some of his pieces were, I always felt that they had something natural or organic about them.  These weird ideas and concepts are real, and they come from this man.  I can feel that when I watch.  Anyway, I couldn't really take pictures in there, but I snuck a few. The first is a fluorescent sculpture he made in Paris, and the second is a wax/plaster/plastic/found object piece of a man getting shot.  I like the labels.  This piece is the one on all the advertising around the city, so, in a way, its been made iconic.  

Good day.

Never a Frown

I caught this the other night at 4am from my 4th story window.  Then I edited.

Going up in Prague

On the Charles Bridge in Prague

Cesky Krumlov

A depression in the ground through the castle gardens. 

 Inside this space is timelessness and the sublime.
 My favorite place on earth.

The color of the sky, undoctored

A street during twilight

A rare appearance.