Hey Nadia, just read ur article on TimeOut Dubai ... Your project's looking great so far and I love the whole diptych idea ... I'm a designer so I don't have a clue as to how to appreciate photography, but I sure do know you're doing wonders !!
Looking forward to seeing your final piece for the exhibition !! :)
Hi, Nadia, I'm a reporter with the Washington Post, doing a story on culture and creativity and art in Dubai - the people who say it's there, vs. the people who say it's not. Would love to talk to you in just tne next couple days. Thanks much. Ellen at knickmeyere@washpost.com
this is for yo nadia: the world appears behind a sheet of glass. I try to get through. you are talking. I can see your lips moveing. I can't hear what you are saying. I keep moveing to know I'm alive. the air , soft on my skin, reminds me of old longings. I cook. I eat. I try to make sense of things, move stuff around, put clouds, flowers, trees, birds, people in rows, in categories. patterns make the world tolerable. systems sharpen my senses,organize the unfamiliar. I dress carefully for the party, hopin for wild unknown things. and I try to get near nature. nature, no longer wilderness, sad and past its prime, but still so seductive, coquettishly offers upan escape route. by barbara ess
3 comments:
Hey Nadia, just read ur article on TimeOut Dubai ...
Your project's looking great so far and I love the whole diptych idea ... I'm a designer so I don't have a clue as to how to appreciate photography, but I sure do know you're doing wonders !!
Looking forward to seeing your final piece for the exhibition !! :)
Hi, Nadia,
I'm a reporter with the Washington Post, doing a story on culture and creativity and art in Dubai - the people who say it's there, vs. the people who say it's not. Would love to talk to you in just tne next couple days. Thanks much. Ellen at knickmeyere@washpost.com
this is for yo nadia:
the world appears behind a sheet of glass. I try to get through. you are talking. I can see your lips moveing. I can't hear what you are saying. I keep moveing to know I'm alive. the air , soft on my skin, reminds me of old longings. I cook. I eat. I try to make sense of things, move stuff around, put clouds, flowers, trees, birds, people in rows, in categories. patterns make the world tolerable. systems sharpen my senses,organize the unfamiliar. I dress carefully for the party, hopin for wild unknown things. and I try to get near nature. nature, no longer wilderness, sad and past its prime, but still so seductive, coquettishly offers upan escape route.
by barbara ess
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