So it is christmas. I've been reading Gerhard Richter's writings 1962-1993. The Daily Practise of Painting. I wish I had the energy to write about what my thoughts on it have been, but maybe it's better I do it when I've finished it. I can say I've been enjoying it to some degree, and it seems a book I'll read soon again.
I had a dream of painting last night, again. Don't really remember that much of what it was that I painted, but I think I was more thinking, of what I had in front of me, than actually doing something to the canvas. These kind of dreams are more common for me. I don't see myself doing, but thinking of what I've done.
Last two nights I've been staying up watching Andrey Tarkovsky-movies. Last night I saw The Mirror, which is absolutely brilliant, but most definetily needs to be seen more than once in order to be understood in a way meant. At least, so I think. The poetry recited there, for example, passed my eyes very often. I don't understand russian almost at all, and the subtitles were fading to rapidly.
And Nostalghia... It made me want to go to Italy, very much.
I want to go back to Lahti; to paint.
I'm going to see drunken people tonight... Here, in Savo. I am: 'designated driver'. Khhh-hah.
