Just wondering...

Something I've been wondering again, for the umpteenth time, as I've been reading T.S. Eliot... Why are so many fans unwilling to allow their idols or the persons they admire human faults and shortcomings? And why are they then so shocked and surprised when the idols then indeed turn out to have human faults? I recall during Pete's The Boy Who Heard Music - I'm using it as an example because it had a great personal significance for me - some complaining that he was at fault for doing the blog at all, because he was shattering the "mystery" of The Who. I also think that many did not take part in it at all, lest it shatter their images. Apparently, something similar happened with T.S. Eliot when biographical information came to publicity and it turned out that he was indeed very much a human with shortcomings to share. For example, I saw a customer review at amazon.com on Eliot's published letters and the review was about how very prosaic the letters of one of the greatest literary figures of the 20th century are. Oh really? What should he have written to his friends and acquaintances? Literary essays only? The idealised views of admirers, especially in the case of artists who in the public opinion are decided to be geniuses, manifest themselves not only in disappointment and surprise when the admired personages turn out to be human but also in a tendency to view everything they do and say as manifestations of their genius. To exaggerate a little, if Pete Townshend says 'I could really do with a good cup of tea', surely the cup of tea is not just a cup of tea but a profound metaphor for the universe, because he's saying it?

Methinks, if artists were superior beings, above all human faults and shortcomings, their art would be bloody boring, because they would have no understanding of humanity. 

Another thing I'm somewhat puzzled about is fans' and admirers' need to know everything about the artists they admire. Not all fans/admirers have this need but quite many do. Sure, I understand that it may be a way to feel connected, to feel that you "know" your idol who is otherwise quite distant from you. But it can also lead to unhealthy forms. The biographical detail that fans know may not be reliable. What an artist says in interviews, for instance, may be vague or intentionally misleading because the artist wants to maintain his or her privacy. Many biographies are written which are based on flimsy sources and are more the writer's interpretation of the person than fact. If this kind of biographical information does not cause disappointment or shattering of dreams, it is used to construct an image which matches the fan's pre-established ideas/ideals. If the artist then does or says something that seems to deviate from the ideas/ideals which to the fans are fact, there is an outcry: how dare the artist do it? It's not what he or she is about! A case in point, The Waste Land, when published in 1922, became the "bible" of a generation, expressing its disillusionment after the war. Eliot himself was adopted as an anti-establishment, anti-authoritarian, revolutionary hero, opposed to everything jaded and old. His conversion to the Church of England in 1927 caused a violent disappointment: Eliot was supposed to have sold out to the conservative establishment. Ring a bell with how some of the later actions of certain rock figures have been viewed by many, the established view having been that in their music they claimed to be revolutionaries?

The not always reliable biographical information is also often reflected onto the artist's work. Eliot a case in point again, in his case not only with regard to the fans but also to literary scholars. And don't say the latter are an entirely different matter, because that's nonsense. Plenty of literary scholars (or art historians) specialise in a given author because they are fans. It's just that the work they produce enjoys a different position because of their academic status. But I digress. Eliot held that his poetry is not autobiographical, yet numerous scholarly studies have been written in which the writers maintain with the whole weight and authority of their academic status that 'oh yes it is, all of it.' Another example from The Boy Who Heard Music: I remember some readers who at every turn maintained that it's autobiographical and also wanted to "teach" others who did not see this, with essays (mainly from the history of The Who) on what this or that part of the text was drawn from.

Irrespective of what is true with Eliot or any other artist, in the end, does it really matter whether or not an artist's work is autobiographical? Isn't the essence of art in the thoughts and emotions and impressions it causes in the reader/listener/viewer? A conversation between the work of art and the one who enjoys it, if you will? It's a subjective, personal process, and people love a work of art, whether a pop song, a painting or a poem, for personal reasons. I'm not saying the artist's person does not matter. I'm not an artist but I am convinced that the creation of a work of art is always a subjective and personal process in one way or another: the artist makes choices of what to include and what not to include, how to express things, and so on, based on reasons that cannot be entirely separate from what he or she is as a person, his/her experiences etc. He/she is human after all. I'm also convinced that a work of art always reflects the artist's person - but not (always) in the superficial level of biographical detail but in a much deeper, and to me more relevant, way, in that it reflects his or her spirit and soul.

Well, I went on a bit again, didn't I? That's the lovely thing about blogs: it's your blog and you can go on at will, without let or hindrance. :-)

The Fire and the Rose

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.

Through the unknown remembered gate

When the last of earth left to discover

Is that which was the beginning;

At the source of the longest river

The voice of the hidden waterfall

And the children in the apple-tree

Not known, because not looked for

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always -

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flames are in-folded

Into the crowned knot of fire

And the fire and the rose are one.

This is the end of Little Gidding, the fourth and final poem of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. I had not read T.S. Eliot before, something that may be thought strange - or then not. He is of course one of the most influential figures in 20th century literature, but on the other hand, while school students in the English-speaking world would be likely to have some of the English literature greats, including Eliot, in their English classes, in Finnish schools the emphasis is on native writers (as in the German-speaking world on German authors, in France on French authors and so on). But I picked up Four Quartets at the library some time ago, motivated by hearing a radio adaptation of the Michael Hastings play Tom and Viv, about T.S. Eliot and his first wife Vivienne Haigh-Wood (the radio play itself I listened to out of a very shallow motivation: because it had Benedict Cumberbatch as Eliot - the man's got a voice you know). I went to the library to get any T.S. Eliot in original language and happened to find Four Quartets.

Now that I have read it, I find I HAVE to read T.S. Eliot and especially the Four Quartets. His poetry is not easy, but I feel I have to read it. Not because of his position in 20th century literature, but because of a kind of a hunger for the words. I don't necessarily need to read studies which explain all the references or which offer theories and explanations. More I want to read again and again,  all in one or one poem or part of a poem at a time, to marvel at and follow the language and find my own meaning in the poems - or perhaps not, never entirely. Perhaps in part they will remain a mystery to be marveled and wondered about. Who knows, and I'm not sure it matters. I put in an order for an edition of Four Quartets to have it at hand whenever I want, and I suspect it will be something I will return to again and again. Never have I been more happy about how good my English is.

MERRY CHRISTMAS OR HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!

Old and Beautiful

This is my father's mother's Singer sewing machine, made in 1935 in Scotland. It's still in excellent condition and fully functional. A beautiful item, isn't it? 

It's an example of the fact that in times past utility tools were cherished items that were kept well and mended if they broke. They were valued and valuable possessions. As such, the tools were manufactured to last - and they were frequently made not only functional but also beautiful to behold, like this sewing machine. This was before the mass production of consumer products eradicated that way of thinking. Now it frequently feels like products are made to last only until the warranty expires, and if they do last longer, they already feel hopelessly antiquitated - and this is frequently true with things like computers because technological development is so fast. Don't get me wrong, I don't yearn for some "good old times" when everything was supposed to be better. I quite like digital cameras, smart phones, laptops and the WWW. But I often feel it's a shame that the mentality which produced items like this sewing machine seems to be gone now.

In fact, it often feels like in the modern consumer society "good citizen" means  only A) a good tax-payer and B) a good consumer. You should make sure to choose a field of study that gives you qualifications for a well-paid job and you should graduate quickly, in order to start benefiting the state in the form of the taxes you pay. If you indeed have a well-paid job, your responsibility is to consume for the wealth of the fatherland. 

And the advertising industry does its best to keep people consuming and to increase consumption. Anyone who thinks the role of advertising is simply to inform customers of the availability and pricing of products they already know they need is a simpleton. If that was the case, why are children often specially targeted? Children are the easiest to influence, so if you get them hooked to your products, chances are good that they'll stay as loyal consumers. My brother mentioned an especially bad example: the hugely popular, Japanese pokemon stuff. The pokemon cartoons on TV actually have a ditty which directly tells the listeners that they have to obtain the entire range of merchandise. And if ads were simply to inform customers, why would they keep bringing out new products and items accompanied with advertising campaigns which use imagery that is designed to make the products as appealing as possible? Apple started selling the iPad in Finland a couple of weeks ago, and the advertising really annoyed me. The morning's paper was full of full-page ads by stores that sell the thing, all calling it 'unbelievable' and 'incredible' and 'revolutionary'. You could almost think that they were trying to brainwash you to believe that you actually need it!

I'm not for banning consumption. If you've got money, it's your business how you spend it. But I do think there's something not so slightly wrong in the overly emphasized consumption mentality. As always, it's particularly visible before Christmas when you can't escape ads basically telling you that you have to get our products or your Christmas will be a complete failure. I think there are many people who actually buy into it, whether or not they can afford it. It's especially true with the new, expensive gadgets. iPads, smart phones, playstation 3's and so on fill Christmas wish lists, and parents, wives, husbands and relatives feel obliged to buy them so that they are not worse than all those other people who surely have them. Many actually can't afford the things and buy on credit or with one of these 'buy now, pay after 12 months' plans (why, that almost feels like you don't have to pay at all!), and consequently are in debt after Christmas.

Christmas rant over. Hope everyone has lovely holidays, however you spend them!

My unfortunate bike

...or "A Lesson in Laziness"

The thing is, the bike storage of my building is rather small. I don't know why. Maybe biking wasn't as popular in the 60s when the house was built as it is now. There used to be space in it, but then more residents bought bikes or more keen bikers moved in, one or the other. Now you have to watch out for someone to take his/her bike out before you can get yours in. I always meant to watch out for that... until the other morning I found my bicycle submerged. It's chained to the bike rack underneath the snow, too. Teaches me about being lazy, eh? The snow has reached about half a meter (1 and 2/3 ft.) and it's expected to snow some more tonight. Maybe people in Lapland will soon start travelling to Helsinki to experience proper winter!

(More) Winterly greetings

Snow's so pretty in its whiteness. I have to admit, though, that in my opinion winter isn't the most interesting season photographically. Pretty as it is, it gets a bit boring when it stays for months and months. Eventually you grow weary of taking pictures that feature snow in some form or fashion. I shall have to try and use my imagination to come up with new things.

So, I have sent the application for the research position in my old university. Fingers crossed on that. Otherwise, I've fairly satisfied with my activity this year. I have one article definite in an upcoming conference book that is supposed to be in print in early 2011. Otherwise I have sent two articles for review in different major journals of the field. I should be hearing on one of them in January, regarding the other I don't know. Of course, I'll be rather glad if one of them gets accepted. ;-) But it's not easy. It's worth a try though because IF you get published, one such article is worth several in small publications.

And now, another round of Pet Shop Boys I think. I don't know where I suddenly got the urge to listen to their 80's hits. Sure, I'm an 80s kid and Pet Shop Boys are one of those bands that made up the soundtrack of the decade. But I have never owned any of their records nor did I listen to them actively as a kid. Obviously I know the biggest hits. West End Girl, Suburbia, It's A Sin, and so on. Who doesn't? Maybe it's creeping nostalgy now that I'm in my 30s? :-) Nah, they're fantastic pop songs, there's something about them that the modern pop list hits lack. 

Let's take a ride, and run with the dogs tonight

In suburbia...

La la la la

Sunday picture

A photography walk in the crisp, frosty, sunny -17 C followed by 40 minutes of water running and Turkish steam sauna = VERY good feeling!

Here is a set of winter wonderland pictures: LINK. 

Then - Now

A FEW DAYS AGO:

Can you imagine the heat and brightness of the summer sun?

Can you imagine the light sparkling on the waves?

Can you imagine the warm sand under the toes?

Can you imagine the happy screams of children as they run into the waves?

Can you imagine sitting on the beach after a swim, letting the sun dry you up - without it getting cold?

Can you imagine the ice creams and hot dogs bought at the beach kiosk?

Can you imagine it?

TODAY:

Everything is truly and properly frozen. -12 C, -17 C with wind chill. But actually I prefer it that way: winter is unavoidable, so better it be a proper winter like today than either freezing, snowless and dark or just barely above zero degrees, wet, snowless and dark. Those are the other two options for winter in Finland.

And when it got cold, the skies cleared. What a beautiful day. Cold and crisp but I didn't mind the cold at all. I was properly dressed!

November Asleep

Back to Helsinki, Finland for a little while. This was a couple of days ago. The snow and the blanket of clouds made everything appear almost monochrome. A desolate feeling but oddly beautiful at the same time. On days like this, you truly see the weariness of November. The sun might, just might, come out one of these days - but only if the temperature falls below -10 C I think. Under seven hours of daylight now: the sun rises at 8.40 and sets at 3.30 pm - and a month to go until winter solstice still.

Today I've spent indoors, nursing a mild cold - but I don't mind: nasty wind and snowdrift outside. I wonder if this winter will be the same as last year? I think there was still some snow left from last year at the city snow dumps when new snow started to fall this past week. This year, for once, I managed to get moderately priced flights for the Christmas visit to my parents. Mainly it's so I don't have to sit in the train for hours, but who knows, maybe it'll turn out to be wise otherwise: last year, what with the snow and cold, the state railways had terrible trouble!

I might just end up back in the north otherwise than just for Christmas, too: my old university is looking for applicants for a three-year research post in a field that fits my research like a glove, the study of cultural interaction. I have slightly mixed feelings about it because I love Helsinki so much, but I will definitely apply because I like my old university and more importantly it would be a tremendous opportunity, not to mention a merit for the CV. The money would allow me to get back to Helsinki on weekends and holidays, too. So fingers crossed.

The sun came out briefly...

It's quite amazing how light changes the appearance of things. In a certain light the stern forms of the big concrete blocks acquire a sort of impressive heftiness. The building on the left here has an almost sculpture-like quality.

Tallinn 2

The Finns and Estonians may be language relatives, but one of the things that is very different between the two countries is that in Estonia looking feminine and beautiful is much more important. I suppose these hairdresser's shops are one reflection of this. These modest-looking hairdressers are everywhere in Lasnamäe. Most of the ones I've seen are like this: housed in the ground floor of the apartment blocks, with just the 'hairdresser' sign out front and opening times on the door; no windows with ads for the big hair product brands or photos of hair models. The long-time Estonian resident that I mentioned in the previous post said in one of his blogs that shops like this in Lasnamäe haven't changed much in the 20 years since the country's independence. I've never visited in any of them but from the outside I like them. They look homely in all their modesty.

And here, back to a general view, and from personal to impersonal in a way. I get a kind of a feeling of foreignness and of distance with the scale and weight of these large concrete blocks. An outsider's view I'm sure.


This intentionally edited dark and sombre. It wasn't much more cheerful in colour, though. I am aware of the fact that taking sombre pictures of a place like this runs the risk of stereotyping. The residents may not have the same view as this is their home, and perhaps a photographer should seek things that run counter to (of?) the common view of places like this as depressing. But I can't help an outsider's fascination with a place the like of which doesn't exist in my own country.

Tallinn

I had booked my trip to Tallinn at the only Finnish company operating on the route, Eckerö Line. That was unfortunately a mistake: it may have been partly due to the weekend, but the ship was crowded and cramped, with very few seats - no opportunity to sit in the cafe or restaurant either, due to the crowdedness. It was difficult to find a peaceful spot: if I'd sit leaning on a wall, I'd have people jumping over my legs. On the way back I especially failed in my quest for a peaceful spot: on one occasion I had a drunken bozo - French I think - disturbing my reading with a "Hello! How ya doing??". At another occasion I was forced to listen to an older lady who was swigging from her bottle of vodka at a steady pace going on an on very loudly about how marvellously she can get along with all sorts because when her husband was alive she met all kinds of fine people. With the trip taking 3 hours in one direction, it was very tiresome. This is clearly a ferry company where the idea is to get people spend as much money as possible on board: book cabins, drink and eat at the restaurants, and shop at tax free. Next time I'll take one of the Estonian ferries, Tallink or Linda Line.

In contrast, the hotel was absolutely superb and I'll certainly book it the next time I visit. Hotel City Portus is right at the port, by one of the terminals. Fantastic value for money (without my package a single room would have cost 44 euros): wonderful service and breakfast; good rooms with excellent shower. You could even book the sauna at their top floor. I also loved the interior design which was very retro pop: red, yellow, orange, white and brown, with a poster of Madonna on the wall.

As soon as I had reached Tallinn at midday and got my room, I proceeded to buy a 24 hour ticket for the public transport (a mere 4,5 euros) and headed to Lasnamäe. The cloudy weather indeed offered a suitably different mood compared to the bright days of the summer:

Here Laagna tee, the asphalt river which runs all through the area. I read somewhere that a local train line was planned to be built to run in between the lanes but like so many other things here, it never materialized. I must say, though, that I would love to visit the area on a foggy day! Those huge concrete blocks would look fantastic enclosed in mist, I'm sure.

This is my favourite of the things I found on saturday:

Very sweet and very cool I think. :-)

I debated whether or not to stay in Lasnamäe until after dark but decided against it: for one thing the wind was chilly, but more importantly it's not necessarily a good idea to wander around there alone after dark.

It was an early night for me, because in the previous night I had in vain to get to sleep early so that I'd have enough sleep by the time I had to get up at 6 am. This time, I slept like a log and was up for breakfast at the 8 am starting time, so as to maximize time. I went back to Lasnamäe for a while, then strolled around in central Tallinn for a bit, until it was time to catch the 4 pm ferry.

Whilst waiting I had the occasion to be "proud" of Finnish Tallinn travellers again: most of the people I saw with alcohol purchases had cartloads of Finnish beer, cider and long drink which are exported to Estonia and then the Finns go buy it back. Sitting beside me in the terminal was a group of 20+ girls with similar cartloads. They were talking about how incredibly drunk they'd been the previous night and how "incredibly fucking sick" they now feel. Where is the romance of travelling in that, I ask? This is an example of why Finnish tourists don't have a good reputation in Tallin. I suppose it has got a bit better at least. I came across a blog of a Canadian man who had lived in Estonia for years and years. In one of his posts he said that 10 years ago, if you went to the Old Town, you would come across a drunk Finn at every corner. And it's not the only reference I've seen!

The ferry company and the annoying Finnish tourists notwithstanding, I again enjoyed my time in Tallinn tremendously. Next time I better book two nights, however: in summertime one night would be enough but with the sun now setting at 4 pm there just isn't enough time.

More pictures later.

The sea awaits

On the evening of wednesday, after I'd got my camera back, I went to the seaside. There is something at the same time frightening and extremely beautiful in the dark, restless sea.

The sea is also otherwise relevant here, as I decided to book a little weekend trip to Tallinn. I'll be going tomorrow, staying overnight and coming back on sunday. 68 euros for the ferry + hotel is not bad. My hotel is also very handily located right by the port terminal. Judging by reviews it's excellent value, although it being weekend, I'm hoping not many Finnish drunken booze tourists will be staying there. They're predicting cloudy weather, so I'm probably going to go to Lasnamäe to see if those endless concrete blocks look different than in the summer sun.

With Canon you can!

No, I haven't become employed at Canon. I do have a good reason to agree with their slogan so far, though: Canon paid for the repair and I got the camera back fixed today, after just two days! Granted, the new camera was tempting, but my old one will do just fine until such time in the future that I can invest in one of the high-range cameras. :-)

And now, let there be light:

I posted this last year, but personally I feel it's worth posting again since there isn't much of it around at this time of the year. Light, that is. Although, this was in November, so maybe there'll be a day like that again this month! Real King Arthur tales, Lady of the Lake stuff it was.

Death of a Camera

 A couple of the more experimental pictures that I was taking lately.

Now it's bye bye camera: my camera broke on friday. It looks likely that it's a shutter problem, and replacing the shutter costs 300-400 euros - if I can't get it done under warranty. The unfortunate thing is that the warranty expired a year ago. Consumer rights leave me a bit of leeway: it might be possible to get the job done under warranty if the shutter has died much sooner than what the manufacturer says should be for this particular camera. At an estimate I have taken about 20 000-25 000 pictures, whereas the manufacturer gives 50 000 or 100 000 (depending on the source) as the life expectancy.

To find out if I have a chance at this, I have sent email to the repair firm asking them to give some estimate (also on how long the repair would take). I have also sent a message to my insurance company to find out how much the own risk amount would be in this case. 

If I can't get the repair under warranty and if the own risk amount is considerable, I need to decide whether to have the repair done all the same or to scrape the money together for a new camera. At this stage of my photography I suppose it would be sensible to upgrade. That would be about a 700 euro investment. I need to do one or the other, as I can't imagine not having a camera. You could actually say that taking photographs is part of who I am.

Dark!

Yes, it gets dark early: the sun sets at 4.30pm. It would be 5.30pm except last week saw the end of Daylight Saving time. Darktime depression, here it comes... No, I don't get it (although many do, apparently). And it's not quite as dark as this in Helsinki. The picture was taken in Suomenlinna where the lighting is not so glaring and blaring. All the firepower that's put into streetlights (not to mention neon signs and everything)... mustn't let the bogeyman in from the dark! 

I would like to think that I'm not afraid of the dark, and logically I'm not. I know that usually (in Helsinki at least) there are no people with evil intentions behind every tree, hiding in the dark. There are no bogeymen, monsters or ghosts. And yet... If I had to walk a longer, unlit stretch, I'd rather not linger. It's just... well, it's just so dark. I wonder if there is anyone in the glaringly lit cities - it's never really dark in the city - who feels truly comfortable in the dark? Were people before the invention of electric light more comfortable with the dark, I wonder? Are the native people in, say, the Amazon region comfortable with the dark? What I'm getting at: did all the technological advancement that pushed back the darkness with bright, bright lights bring the fear of the dark? Or is it some kind of an innate, primal fear that is perhaps biological, as humans do not have a sharp sense of smell or hearing or cat's whiskers to easily navigate in the dark without the help of eyes?

Anyway, it doesn't get any darker than in November, before the snow comes. So far I'm enjoying the new photographic opportunities that the dark (again) brings, but I'm sure I'll be hoping for the snow to come soon.

Quite active I've been: got back to swimming (or rather water running which I prefer); enjoying experimenting with the camera (sort of deconstructive gimmickry). I was going to not do anything work-wise for a while, since I sent off that article recently. But I already got an idea for a new article, so what can I do?

Some supremely enjoyable art experiences too lately.

The museum of contemporary art now has the exhibition of the candidates for the annual Ars Fennica award, and some of the works stunned me. I was particularly blown away by the video/programming work of the Scottish-born, Finland-based artist Charles Sandison, called "Words as the image of the world". This picture from an earlier exhibition gives an idea of it: a room with a mirror floor, with innumerable words (I read that it's the whole of the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica) flowing in changing streams and formations on the ceiling and the walls, reflected in the floor. It felt like all of the nearly six billion people on this planet had been brought together in one space, all the chaos, all the languages, all the cultures. The immensity of it was almost overwhelming.

Calmer, but equally beautiful: Beethoven's piano sonata no. 3 in C: sparkling, translucent pearls of joy on the piano keys.

There I was...

...inspecting the old tunnels of Suomenlinna, when suddenly...

Like with most old things, there is a ghost story connected to this place. It is about a cadet of the naval cadet school about a hundred years ago. The cadet and an officer's daughter were in love, but their relationship ended tragically in the young man's suicide, and his sorrowful spirit was left to wander along the school corridors. Reportedly, a figure wearing a military uniform of the era has been sighted in one of the class rooms of the cadet school.

Ho ho!

I'm just glad because the cough didn't keep me awake last night anymore. It's back to swimming this weekend for sure!

This is a bit of experimentation, sparked by opportunity. The picture is founded on a photograph, taken of tree branches in strong wind with slow shutter speed, which was then manipulated (colour, contrast). I was actually trying to capture the violent movement of the branches in the wind, but the result lended itself better for a painting-like autumn picture. In any case I' fairly pleased.

This past monday, I just knew I had to go to Suomenlinna for photography. It always turns out great when I have such a strong feeling. Hopefully there'll be some more sunny days before the autumn colours are gone. I need to go back to Suomenlinna, because my visit on monday was cut a bit short because I had other things to do.

A lucky shot, with that bird there, coming back from Suomenlinna.

I've mainly been doing final corrections to my article so I can send it off later this week, but I also added plenty of pictures to my photo site. Next week there's another funding application to write but I'll think about that next week.

Application fun

I'm not kidding or being ironic, I actually enjoyed writing an application just now.

I spotted a work ad for exhibition guides in the museum of modern art of the neighbouring town. I've visited it quite a few times and like the place, plus I'm genuinely interested in modern art, especially artists who use photography and video in their work. So, I decided to send an application.

Their requirements were an art history or art education degree or experience of similar jobs. I don't have a formal degree like that as my field was general history (although crossed paths with art history occasionally during my studies) but I actually have some work experience from a summer job, albeit a long time ago. Obviously, I emphasized my interest in art and naturally made clear my photographic ambitions, including the few sold and published photos. Gave me a chance to mention my new photo site, so that turned out to be useful very soon!

Would be a fun job to have - and ideal time-wise: it's part time, so it would leave time for research work. Money-wise not necessarily something that makes you rich but far better than the unemployment money still.

I certainly put modern technology to full use with this application: I first wrote it in my head yesterday and today (ok, technically my head isn't modern technology since I've had it for 34 years); then typed it down on my phone while out on town (for those with iPhone, go for AwesomeNote); just now I copied it to Open Office, wrote also the CV, saved both in pdf and sent off in email (they expected applications via email only).

Grrr, if only my cold got better soon. I've had it for the past week. No fever but a sniffle and a hell of a cough, with the voice still down. I was so enjoying the swimming which I took up again only last weekend.

New photo site

I have today started a new photo site. The address is:

http://www.wix.com/marianiku/photography

I figured it might be a good idea to have a designed portfolio site that looks like me if/when I need to/have a chance to show someone what my photography work is like.

Koos dug up the service for me, thank you Koos!

Update, finally

I started working on my pictures, to see if I can get some uploaded in the photo bureau I'm a member of. A randomly selected picture from that - a bit melancholy but somehow I like it.

The picture doesn't match the early October days so far, luckily. It seems like every day until today has been sunny and beautiful. Now cloudy. I'm having a week or so free time after a very busy stretch. I finally got the article I've working on finished and sent to my friend for proofreading. 

Also my mother visited for a week which was nice. Last weekend grandma and two aunties took the nephews to a kids' activity centre in the city, an underground hall with bouncy castles, game machines, a "jungle track" etc. I sure got my excercise following the almost-six-year-old, climbing crawling in pipes on my knees and bouncing. Both nephews obtained a 'slimy hand', a hand made of some sort of slimy rubber that sticks everywhere when you throw it. Consequently, it took rather a long time to get out of the underground hall and across the market square to the McDonald's to eat. It's funny how things that little boys (or little and slightly older boys) find really cool invariably seem rather gross to grown-ups. :-) Monday, my sister's birthday, we and our mother had lunch at this vegetarian restaurant which always has fantastic food and where the pricing is per kilos: you take as much as you want and go to the counter where they charge you for how much your plate weighs. Then on tuesday further celebration on account of sister's birthday: we three, plus my brother, sister-in-law and nephews took a little trip to one of the outdoors areas in eastern Helsinki. We grilled sausages in one of the camping spots and then ate mocha pie on the rocks by the sea, watching the sunset. One of the pieces of the pie appropriately got to serve as a birthday cake, with a lit candle. Such a lovely little outing.

I also managed to get in the obligatory control visit - to keep the unemployment money running - to the employment office on monday, and that sure was troublesome. I got there at 11 am and there were 40 people in front of me in the queue, so it took three hours. I would have needed to come wait outside the door before opening time to get in first. They don't have a appointment system, and I felt sorry for the young mother at the reception, asking if they couldn't give her an appointment because she's a single mother with a baby, lives in eastern Helsinki and it's really difficult for her to arrange the time to come to office in central Helsinki. All she got was, "sorry, there's nothing we can do, you'll just have to work out something to get here early." At least they gave her more time.

I'm glad I got that done - and that the next visit isn't until April. I'm REALLY hoping I'll get the research grant that will be decided on sunday or the other one I applied for that will be decided on November 6th, so I won't have to go to the employment office for at least a month.

When my friend gets the proofreading done there'll be more work to do the corrections and do the formatting etc for whichever journal I'm going to send the article done. There's also two more funding applications to do this month. But for at least until the 15th, I'm going to just take it easy.

Autumn

No nature in sight in this picture, in fact about as far from nature as could be: a shabby, weather-beaten table outside a shabby-looking grill (closed at the time) at a street surrounded by nothing but concrete. Well, there were a few trees struggling to get by amidst the concrete. But the colours fit the season. I find weather-beaten wood surface beautiful, and was somehow fascinated by that discarded plastic cup with the drop of liquid. Probably Coke - or Pepsi, as the grill had Pepsi logos. You CAN find beauty in unexpected places.

Yesterday was such an amazing autumn day: +17 C and sunny - and it's nearly October! I went to the woods again to pick trumpet chanterelles. I can't help going to the nearby woods every chance I get, I admit it's a bit of an addiction. It's the joy of finding - and trumpet chanterelles are brown in colour so they disguise themselves well. But it's also the colours and the  crisp fall fragrance. I don't know where it comes from. Is it the fallen leaves? The peat moss? The carpet of pine and fir tree needles? The soil itself? All of it? Anyhow, I love it. It's a fragrance that's only there in the autumn.

Ta-ta-ta-dam!

Ta-ta-ta-dam! Ta-ta-ta-dam! Or indeed, as Stephen Fry described in his (In)Complete and Utter History of Classical Music, DE DE DE DERRR! DE DE DE DERRR! I have been listening to Beethoven's 5th. That is the stuff. Not only because of the first two bars of course. I love the whole lot, for example the beautiful, melodic string parts of the second movement and  the triumphant, glorious theme in the fourth movement. To quote Stephen Fry again: 

'Think how amazing and how violent, almost, the Symphony No 5 must have been when Beethoven let it loose on an unsuspecting public. Up until now, the most amazing thing in the world of symphonies has been Mozart or Haydn. They're both fab, don't get me wrong, but still, nothing in their entire symphonic oeuvre could possibly have prepared anyone for [SEE QUOTE ABOVE]. You see. Even written out like that, it looks somehow amazing, doesn't it? If you hear a great version of it now, it's still amazing. It's one of those pieces that can make you think that you've never heard it before. And not just the opening movement. Think of the last movement, in all its glory. It's MASSIVE. Huge and glorious, it takes no prisoners, it's immense.'

It's a rainy, dismal day outdoors, perfect for working. I indeed worked good many hours and made good progress on my article. The text is just about there, it just needs editing to make good. 

And then the music, glorious music. Which leads me to popular culture. A friend pointed out Beethoven in The Clockwork Orange. It's true, young Alex in the film likes Beethoven, Beethoven's 9th particularly. Of course, young Alex is also probably the nastiest person in the whole history of cinema. On a lighter note, we must not forget the Monty Python sketch, in which Beethoven is hard at work composing, trying to get the first two bars of his 5th symphony right, but keeps getting disturbed all the time by Mrs. Beethoven.  

I've also been going to the cinema a lot lately, as my brother and sister-in-law and my lovely little nephew gave me a set of five free movie tickets for my birthday. I used one on Thomas Vinterberg's new film Submarino, which is about two brothers, fatherless sons of an alcoholic mother who in adulthood try each on their own to hold their lives together  It's a brilliant film but gut-wrenching, as there are precious few glimpses of light in the story, the misery of the brothers' life effectively emphasized by the generally grey world of the film. The other four tickets I used in the annual Love & Anarchy film festival that is currently going on in Helsinki. I've noticed that many films in the underground/indie cinema are either those über-violent Asian flicks which are oddly popular (or perhaps not oddly, thinking of all the Hollywood films with Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone and the likes slaughtering people left and right), or are about kinky/sick/weird subjects in a consciously 'look at me, I'm daring!' kind of way. I skipped all of those in the programming and instead tried to find different angles.

The first, His & Hers, an Irish film by Ken Wardrop, a beautiful and warm-spirited documentary of 70 Irish girls and women of different ages (from a toddler to grandmothers) telling about the important men in their lives - fathers, sons, boyfriends, husbands. No men are present in the film, just the women talking: ordinary things which are at the same time important; e.g. a 5- or 6-year-old telling how her dad always tells her to 'clean up your room!', a teenager saying how her dad is teaching her to drive, a 80-year old telling how she misses her and her late husband's moments in arm chairs in front of the fire.

The second film, Women without Men, by Iranian first-time film director Shirin Neshat, is set in 1953 in Tehran, just before and during the CIA and MI6 organized military coup that overthrew the democratically elected and progressive Mossadegh government. The film's characters are four women who each in their own way need to escape their life. There is a woman in her late twenties, living with her religious brother who tries to force her to stay indoors and to marry, who finds a new meaning in the communist party; there is her friend, religious and in love with her brother, who is raped by two men; a young prostitute who cannot bear her life; and a 50-year-old former singer, member of the wealthy, westernized upper class, who is tired in her marriage with a general. The latter buys an orchard as a refuge, and the second woman and the prostitute find their way there. 

The premise of the film was interesting but its execution was a disappointment to me: I understand that the point of the story are the personal experiences of the four women and that the political disturbance can be seen as a parallel of the turmoil in the women's lives, but I would have expected the film to make in some way apparent why it was placed in these particular events and not some other time of disturbance in Iran's history. The tone of the film was magical rather than entirely realistic: in the beginning, we have the first woman jump off the roof. Her brother and friend bury her. Later, when her friend has obtained a spell to ruin the brother's impending marriage and, following the instructions, goes to bury the spell in the house's garden, she hears the dead woman's voice saying "I can't breathe". She begins to dig and finds her friend alive. Subsequently the latter finds her way to the communist party, but again at the end we are taken back to the suicide scene. As the woman's connection to the outside world was the radio on which she listened to news of the current events and sympathized with the anti-imperialist demonstrators and the Mossadegh government, I wondered whether the audience is supposed to get the impression that her joining the communist party was her imagination during the seconds of falling from the roof. The dream-like effect of the story was emphasized by the mist in the orchard and the sound track which was composed by a Japanese ambient artist. I like this sort of elements in a film but here they somehow didn't seem to gel. The final problem with the film was that the characters seemed more sketches than persons of real flesh and blood. The film is based on a book, so I should probably get it and read it. Films based on books are seldom better or even as good as the original stories.

For the third film, I went for an award-winner, this year's Sundance winner Winter's Bone. It's set in a meth-riddled, poverty-stricken hicksville in the mountainous Ozark plain of Missouri. 17-year-old Ree Dolly takes care of her younger siblings and mentally fragile mother; her father, a meth-cooker, is in prison. One day the sheriff comes to tell that her father has posted bail and put up the house as security, but has disappeared, and if he doesn't show up for the trial they'll lose the house. So Ree goes off to find her father and finds herself in very dangerous waters. Superb cinematography and excellent acting performances, but I didn't really connect because I wondered about the filmmakers' point of choosing such an extreme story (another film based on a book). It seemed somewhat exaggerated. Ree's character also didn't seem all that different from what has been seen in numerous stories before: an inhabitant of remote mountain regions, maybe white trash and rough but tough and with pride and certain dignity.

The last ticket was spent on Picture Me: A Model's Diary, a documentary by Sara Ziff and Ole Schell about the reality of the fashion industry. Sara Ziff is among the top fashion models of the recent years who also now studies in Columbia University, so it was interesting to see a real insider's view of the business. That the models are basically well-paid clothes hangers for the designers was not new to me, but I didn't know before how common sexual harassment is in the industry.

To end, here is a lovely evening mood from yesterday. I picked trumpet chanterelles in the nearby woods until it got dark and then went to the park beside the woods to take pictures, using the bucket as a stand.

 

The Dark Evenings of Autumn

And now, as the days grow steadily shorter, the first night mood of the Autumn. It's simple and kind of ordinary, but I like this one a lot.

Strange Worlds

Today

I couldn't think of a title for this right now but this was today. I sent silent thanks to whoever it was that put the chair in such a photographically delightful spot!

Just a cell phone snap for Facebook but somehow the composition is just right: the position of the chair in the picture, the tilt of the horizon etc. I took plenty of pictures with my proper camera but I can just bet that none of them are EXACTLY the same!

A Story in a Park Bench

My steps today took me along the bay in central Helsinki as I remembered there was something carved in one of the benches along the shore which I'd seen a while ago and wanted to photograph properly. I decided to do a series of the benches. 

This one's just a cell phone picture but a good one as such and one I really like: the positive, optimistic message/exhortation, the weather-beaten and grey but warm-feeling surface of the bench, the scratching on it, and as a sort of a contrast to the message and the wood the desolate feeling of the cigarette butts. There's a story in the picture, whatever it might be. I hope it's a happy one: a group of young people sitting here in the evening, smoking and enjoying each other's company, and one of them happily writing the exhortation; or perhaps a happy couple watching the sunset. But it might be a sad story too: someone sitting alone, disappointed in love, after a relationship with a too possessive and jealous partner, expressing his or her feelings in that message on the wood surface (as in wanting to say how it should be instead of how it was). Or it might have been a campaigner for optimism, going around the city leaving his or her messages for anyone who happened on the spot to find.

It's such an ordinary, everyday image, but at the same time so moving.

Things done

These two pictures rather finely illustrate what I've been doing lately.

There's this one spot in one of the forest areas here in Helsinki where I keep finding porcini - provided that it rains a bit here and there. Not a huge amount at one go but enough for a couple of meals and to put one package in the freezer. Now porcini are the best kind of mushrooms there are. Delicious in pasta sauce and risotto, or just fried in a pan and eaten on toast. The Italians buy any amount. They know their food, the Italians. They're not getting any of mine though.

My birthday was on friday. As I've now things to do (couple of applications, article work), I didn't have the energy to go anywhere or arrange anything. I just bought a bottle of fine red (a South-African one, Rust en Vrede Estate Cabernet 2004) and enjoyed it with brie, crackers and pears. On saturday, however, we had a family dinner at a lovely restaurant not far from where I live, located in a manor park, in the old steward's house: myself, my father, sister, brother, sister-in-law and younger nephew (the elder didn't feel like coming). Had a lovely time, in a lovely setting, and the food was delicious (I had roast lamb and American mud cake with vanilla ice cream). My nephew gave me a lovely birthday card, pictured above. Notice the artist's signature, "KUUTTI 2010". Rather a fine work, I must say.

Oh the pretty things

The workmen were about to come to install the balcony glass at 8 am the other day so I thought I might as well get up some hours earlier to catch the sunrise as I'd been meaning to do. So, up I got very early, with the birds and the rabbits (saw the latter about) and made my way to the beach to wait for the sun's rising a bit before 6 am. I saw a fox on the way!

Late August sunrise is sleepy and slow.

I don't usually do sunrise or sunset photos, because they're such cliched subjects and because it's taking photos of pretty subjects rather than taking photos that are affecting (in whatever way) or beautiful in themselves. The two are very different things, and I usually try to go for the latter. Plus, at the risk of sounding like a tosser, it doesn't take much skill to get a pretty sunrise or sunset photo.

But it sure is very pretty isn't it?

Barefeet in the library, and how to express the inexpressible

I'm sitting on the fourth floor of the university library/National Library, almost on the level of the roof tops of the buildings opposite. I'm seated by an open window, trying to catch the small draft that comes through - it's no longer stifling hot outside, but the library doesn't have a particularly good air-conditioning system, so it's still too warm inside. Still, it's not so bad. The library is in the city centre, so I'm enjoying the sounds of the city through the window. I've taken my shoes off and from time to time get up to get a particular book in the Classics shelf nearby. The library floors seem to be spotless.

It's back to work after the three days of celebration at the Flow festival. Of course, some of the artists performing were more trendy cool than authentically touching but a lot of it was new and interesting - the very reason I go every year. Some fascinating, interesting, just plain fun or mindblowing music:

Grey Park. I'd never heard of them before but their concert at the experimental music stage was quite something else: a continuous, slowly-moving, massive wall of sound, with tones, colours and textures woven in. It's not something I'd listen to on a daily basis but as an experience it was fascinating.

Hey. This really was their name. They created wonderful soundscapes with an electric guitar, cello, violin, percussion and a synth.

Girls. An American lo-fi pop band with a rather eventful personal history (birth in a cult, prescription drug addiction etc). On cd they are kind of Beach Bousy, lovely pop but live they completely rocked. A fantastic gig. And at the end of the gig they threw the roses they had on stage to - you guessed it - girls in the audience. Very sweet!

Ballake Sissoko. The world's second most known player of the traditional Malian instrument kora (related to a harp) after Toumani Diabate. I was looking forward to this since there are a few Malian artists I really like. In the end, though, I had to conclude that the kora is supremely beautiful but not very captivating. It all sounds the same in my ears. Well, my experience may also have been influenced by the fact that there were people around talking all through the concert. I don't understand why people come to a concert where the music is quiet and requires listening with concentration and then spend the entire time talking instead of listening.

Owen Pallett. This Canadian guy is a violin-electro wizard, who is most of the time on stage alone, playing his violin, but sounds like a string orchestra with the help of the backing tracks etc. that he used. A completely original sound. Unfortunately I had to leave after half an hour because the venue where the show was held, the old engine hall of the power plant, had a sauna-like temperature. 

Caribou. They played a mind-blowing concert. A superbly danceable electro band but in concert they played all live: drums, bass, guitar, a synth. Completely incredible. The music was like fire; the beats like from the earth's core; the music like the earth's elements themselves. An astounding drummer. I can't believe the feeling their music gave me.

Caribou were the last band I saw, on sunday. There would have a couple more interesting names left, Marina and the Diamonds and The XX, but I decided to leave. One reason was that the queues to all the water spots and toilets were insane, but also I felt that anything after the concert I'd just experienced would be a comedown.

A thought about this: in trying to express the inexpressible of how music can make one feel, one is necessarily reduced to platitudes like 'incredible', 'mindblowing' or 'I can't believe how to the music made me feel.' These expressions do not properly DESCRIBE what the feeling was, they do not get to the core. That's the thing about music. The reaction to music is mainly about emotion - or should be mainly about emotion; if your only reaction is simply 'what an interesting guitar chord progression' (or similar) then I think something is wrong. The effect of music being about emotion also makes it personal in the extreme, which means the experience cannot be shared in its totality. I'm sure the majority of the audience in that concert was taken up by a shared emotion, of fervour or of joy perhaps, of being there as one among many, but if each person in the audience was to try to explain what they felt to someone who wasn't there, I'm sure they would find themselves lacking in words.

But: perhaps the feeling doesn't need to be explained, just felt.

So It Was Friday the 13th...

So my microwave blew up yesterday. Really did. There was lots of smoke but no flames. I don't REALLY believe that Friday the 13th is a bad luck day but I had to laugh about the timing. The microwave was ancient in microwave standards, had been bought in the 90s so clear its time had come.

This weekend I'm enjoying my annual tradition, the Flow Festival. Yesterday was the first day, two more days to come. I guess I'll be going there after 2 pm when they open the gates. I hope the weather forecast is right that it'll clear up. Rain in an open-air festival is a bit of a drag. Yesterday I caught a couple of good acts, a rather fabulous electro pop duo called Villa Nah and an artist called Sami Kukka, whose music is experimental folk-blues. Some of the other artists, like the Air from France, were to my ears very cool but not authentically moving. Today should be better. I'm particularly looking forward to Owen Pallett and Junip. M.I.A may be very interesting too.

I still have to go on about the new Sherlock. I know it's only a TV show but I love it. Benedict Cumberbatch's performance is perfect. Not that awards matter but I'll be very surprised if they don't give him a BAFTA for that. The third episode was the best of the lot.  Fantastic all through, but great details like the Minsk scene and the scene where Sherlock's bored and shoots at the wall and finally throws himself in the sofa, expecting John to stick around as audience to his dramatic sulking. I don't think I'd like a flatmate who think it's a good idea to keep a severed head in the fridge. :-)

John: "A severed head!"

Sherlock: "Just tea for me thanks."

John: "No, there's a head in the fridge!"

Sherlock: "Yes."

John: "A bloody head!"

Sherlock: "Where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind do you? I got it at Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death..."

Testing...

Nothing particular to say, I'm just testing the blogging client that's integrated in the KDE desktop I use in Linux. Called Blogilo.

This is the trailer to the new BBC series 'Sherlock' which sadly ends to the last 1,5 hour episode today. I sure hope they make more! UPDATE: judging by how the last episode ended, I'm sure they will. Hope it's sooner rather than later.

This time, Holmes is transferred to modern time. I was suspicious beforehand whether it works but it does, wonderfully. Quite a timely modernisation, too: there are already shows like 'House' where Dr. House is definitely a Holmesian character. Benedict Cumberbatch as Holmes is perfect (apparently the role was written with him in mind, too). Brilliant, intense, downright manic, dramatic, eccentric, egocentric, gets his kicks out of solving crimes = puzzles, charismatic but manipulative - he is a borderline sociopath after all. Or, as Holmes says himself, "I'm not a psychopath, Anderson, I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research!". Not a person you'd like to spend time with, let alone live with. But SO entertaining in fiction.

The show's also full of fantastic quotes:

Holmes: "Shut up!"

DI Lestrate: "I didn't say anything."

Holmes: "You were thinking. It's annoying."

Watson: "It's a skull."

Holmes: "Friend of mine. Well, I say friend..."

"Dear god, what's it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring."

"Look at you lot, you're all so vacant! Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing."

Someone's already put the previous two episodes on Youtube. Easy to find if one searches with the actor's name ("Benedict Cumberbatch") and then selects Search options > Sort by > Upload date. The first episode is called "A Study in Pink" and the second one "The Blind Banker".

Summer reveries

Oops! Over two weeks gone without a blog post... in summer reveries. This is an old picture and actually taken in early September, but it fits the mood. It's been +25 C or more every day, only now a bit cooler (but still over +20 C). The sort of days when you feel like you want to do nothing, just be.

The 'being' in this context involves, e.g., going to the beach to swim (almost every morning) - I consider myself a contemplative swimmer: I'm not fast but I AM tenacious and can go a long distance. And it's the process of swimming that counts, not how fast you can go a distance.

And sitting in the deck chair in the balcony, reading. Lately, The Stone Gods and Gut Symmetries by Jeanette Winterson. She can use words to make them dazzle and keep you in their spell. I also finally read the autobiography of Mark Everett (of the Eels) which I'd bought ages ago, Things Your Grandchildren Should Know. He seems a wonderfully sweet man, and optimistic despite a hard, hard life. And Discworld novels by Terry Pratchett, they are entertaining and very very funny but also have more than meets the eye. I've plenty of books in my shelf that I've bought at one time or another and haven't got 'round to reading. The deck chair awaits again?

I DO have work to do, too... but I'll get to that tomorrow? August starts tomorrow. If I get back to work tomorrow, it'll be nice and organised, to start right at the beginning of the month. Oh, I was planning to go to the Alppipuisto Jazz tomorrow if the weather is good. Maybe I'll get to work on monday? Monday is good for work. August and monday.

***

The 10 days at the countryside up north were very lovely. But too many mosquitoes and gadflies which all seem to target me specially! Back in the city, an entertaining morning with the nephews on the beach. Plenty of fighting imaginary pirates who sure got a good whupping. Good that my 5-year-old nephew was commander of the good guys, otherwise the battle would've been lost. In the middle of the fierce battle, the young sir asked me: "So, are you not a grown up yet?" Hm... :-)

Also, a lovely trip with brother's family to the Pihlajasaari island, a popular summer place for Helsinki residents for over 80 years. It felt good to be a part of continuing the tradition. We swam at the beach where the ferries to Tallinn pass very close, (just outside the swimming area), then ate at the restaurant in the old wood villa and spent a while climbing and investigating underwater life in the puddles on the rocks by the shore.

On a different day, my elder nephew went to his first ever rock concert with his parents (Muse), whilst I kept company to the younger. Computer games, watching cartoons, eating ice cream cones (alternating with bare waffle cones), Wii Sports, legos. Quite an active evening that was. My elder nephew suggested that as a payment for my babysitting his brother, he will grant me a free audience. The cheek. He's 10. :-)

Another lovely half-day with sister at the beach and then lunch and a glass of white in the restaurant Wanha Mylly, located at the Herttoniemi manor park (used to be the manor of the last Swedish commander of the Suomenlinna sea fortress) some way towards the city centre. It has the most wonderful shaded patio and a great selection of wines, and the river crab salad was delicious.

Now I'm hoping that the swimming weather isn't over yet (+20 C sea water is still ok, +18 C starts to get too chilly). I wouldn't mind if it rained properly on some days, though. I LOVE mushrooms - no silly jokes about magic mushrooms, thank you - and it's been so dry that I'm worried I won't find any chanterelles at all this year. Of course there's always some to buy, but that doesn't involve the joy of discovery. Besides, the ones at the fruit and veg stand at the mall have looked a bit mangy. I went to look for mushrooms the other day and walked through a large field of clover. It was such a sad sight: all the flowers dead, dry and brown.

I'm also waiting for my annual already-tradition, Flow Festival, held in mid-August at the site of the old Suvilahti power plant right in the city. New and exciting music, gourmet food and central location, just a couple of metro stops from where I live. My kinda festival. :-)

***

Sorry about the slow passing of some comments lately. I had to turn on comment moderation because of Chinese spammers but forgot that it was turned on and therefore forgot to click 'accept' on the notifications that came to my inbox. Also sorry for not visiting blogs. It's all due to summer reveries.

Hope everyone's had a great summer!

A Sky Job

This was in Väike-Õismäe. I actually like the area, quite an impressive plan the suburb has. I also like the building, at least with the balconies repainted. 

No doubt it's the ideal job for someone who likes mountaineering and other high places stuff, and being outdoors. I wouldn't even consider it. I don't like heights!

I've been having pleasant summer days at my parents' house in the countryside near Oulu where I used to live, 600 km up north from Helsinki. That's not to say I've done nothing at all, on the contrary I've been working on an article text and my photos. Oh, and eating strawberries freshly picked outside. Very warm, like today it was +28 C out there. Luckily, the old house stays fairly cool, and furthermore at one end of the house I can keep two windows open and have a pleasant, cooling wind blow through the room. Another thing I've been meaning to do is to go out some night and take pictures, because it doesn't get dark here now, just kind of a milky dusk. But I was scared off by the hordes of mosquitoes! I hate mosquitoes, and at night time they would come at you in clouds!

Oh, I was also bitten by a wood tick. Quite amusing in retrospect because it bit me in the arse. I can just imagine a tiny, little wood tick labouring up my leg and sinking its teeth (or whatever it has) in the best meaty part. :D Nothing happened there, there's no sign of infection or anything, it didn't even manage to draw any blood. But I did panic for a little bit before I found out that the chances of getting Lyme disease from a single tick bite are basically zero. It's just that it's so much in the news, whenever they talk about ticks and tick bites they talk about Lyme disease.

Next thursday it's back to Helsinki. They're saying it's going to be +31 C on the weekend, but luckily I managed after all to find a cheap table ventilator online. They'll even carry it to my door with no extra fee.