Skip to main content

Fear and worry

Hello, dear blog.
I shall tonight abuse you as a public diary for all to read.

I shall be repeating my oreliminaries come mid-february. And I am worries. The last time I went in to attempt them, I had killer project, which I had spent most of the semester on, which was simply not adequaetley presented by me. To think I had been joking that all that could go wrong in that respect was me...
Well, this time around, I don't have anything yet, except a solid idea of what I am going to be presenting. I am going to be doing a little show, which in German shall be called "Folgen", or consequences. The consequences f studiying graphic design, of success, failure, of living in Germany and thinking along with Germans, of working and studiying at the same time. This is the tenor that I would to struike this time around.
On the one hand, the subject is good. It does something that was missing from my previous presentation, it reflects what I have learned in the course ofmy studies, that I have learned something.
But sometimes I think that I have not learned enough to impress a stupid German Jury. These people judge me by criteria that I cannot begin to comprehend, nor, quite honestly, do I think myself capable of entering their mindset. Even though I believe my work to be mostly result-oriented, I also enjoy the the journey that leads there, the experimentation, the jiggery=pokery involved in creating good piece of design, no matter what kind of design you are trying to create.
Last time, I was so sure of myself. I went in, secure of my victory and success. This time, I am not. Like Verruca Salt's mother says, Confidence is Key. Somehow, right now, I can't muster the confidence at anything but a half-hearted attempt at this.
What to do?
Keep it together is the plan. Keep youself going./ Buy a few bottles of wine and lock yourself in with a couple of women for distraction. And do it right.
Oh yeh. I also am working off the dream system i have always wanted. Kind of like my batyscaph, I find myself stranded at the bottom of a depression, hoping to arise once more.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IGAF: Lying on Camera // Astounding Armaments

Nizar Qabbani wrote his epic poem "When Will They Announce the Death of Arabs" in 1994.



He was living in London at the time, far from his native Syria, watching the world he had grown up in and represented as a diplomat from afar. America had launched operation Desert Storm- a storm that lasts to this day- two years prior, and marked 1993 with the launch of 23 cruise missiles on Iraq. Qabbani will die of a heart attack in 1998.

In 18 stanzas, he explores the wishes and dreams he once carried, describes, however tribes and nations at war, that believe that secret services (like a cold, or a headache) are part of some heavenly order. He bemoans that the idea of the "Arab Nation" (possibly derived from the Pan-Arabist ideology that was crystallised during the Nasser years) has never come into being. He has been trying to draw a picture all his life, but his crayons have been taken away. He has watched wars- on TV, he has tried to imagine the idea of a peaceful Arab unio…

In Taheyya we Trust - How an Egyptian bellydancer found her posthumous stage in Berlin

“You should have winked at her,” Aida said dismissively, as if such a possibility had been imaginable for someone as timid as I was. Tahia Carioca was the most stunning and long-lived of the Arab world’s Eastern dancers (belly-dancers, as they are called today).
Edward Said, Farewell to Taheyya

My story with Taheyya begins in the summer of 2016, at Bulbuls Caféin Görlitzer Str. in Berlin. It ends two blocks down on Wiener Str 17. 


Bulbuls is a café and art space around my corner that I have grown to like to sit in and drink smoothies (1). He had commissiond us- a crew of Syrian and Egyptian artists, as well as myself, to paint the walls inside the café. El Tenneen (the Dragon) is the one who ended up drawing Sheikh Imam, with the help of Salam Alhassan (known as Salahef/ Turtles) and Sulafa Hijazis (whom we call El Hayya/The Snake’s) beamers’ illumination. The Sheikh sits happily in the place to this day and Crew El-Zoo was born.



Tenneen had the advantage of knowing immediately what he wa…

Two minutes: Addiction is Life is Yellow.

Addiction is a much-maligned, muddy word. Until (ca.) the 18th century, it connoted tendency and drive, rather than (self-) affliction. Opium changed that- reportedly. 
Lives described as addiction: to the approval and company of peers, to power and its accumulation, to enjoyment and personal satisfaction (to some people, this may be suffering) and to basics such as air, food, water… and possibly even living. When framed this way, and defined in reference to this word, life suddenly becomes a selfish pursuit in which the living will do anything to get their fix, devoted addicts all. 
On that note: Marylin Manson - I Don't Like the Drugs, But the Drugs Like Me. 
Also: Addiction is apparently yellow.