Post date: Dec 17, 2012 4:29:48 PM
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There was something about the snow-covered forests and how I felt being lured into them at that time. The curious shapes, patterns and high reliefs that the snow gradually heaped up onto branches and tree trunks in minute detail.
It muffled the sound in the whole surrounding woodland like a big dome made of billions and billions of snowflakes. Down the ground was a jumble of fresh impressions of footprints and trails.
As the sun was slowly piercing the morning fog billions of glowing sparkles suddenly lit up the path and revealed what seemed superficial and chaotic, a whole symphony of the sled’s and skis’ trail patterns from the previous playful day. Eventually they led me to a hidden and secluded place covered with untouched glittering snowbed, which would lure me in even more, like it wanted to be found. An intimate space was all free for myself for exploring and recording, discovered for the first time ever. What a pleasure in finding things out!
I wondered with curiosity and hunger to create that would later on evoke in me distant and long forgotten childhood memories of the classic illustrations from the Snow Queen fairy-tale. The cordial atmosphere of the idyllic snow-covered village in the late afternoon. The serpentine path as it was being made by a horse-drawn carriage would lead from the village to a distant mountain.
Blue was the dominant colour. Shadows and highlights were painted in blue tonalities. Only the small window-panes cast orange light illuminating tiny parts of a brown, wooden windowsill.
The fairy-tale book had been long since gone. It had been lost such a long, long time ago that I can’t even recall. Just as gradually and naturally as I became older it disappeared from my life. Where do the lost things go when there is no attic
to store old stuff and to lock the memories with it, stuff you have outgrown?