four bakewell tarts later...

i'm sick...
it started at easter sunday in the hackney living room... i thought it was a mild case of hayfever...

i had temperature, very rare for me and i was melting in my bed, alone, haunted by nihilistic and ultra sad thoughts and fantasies of how i'm going to die alone and no one will discover me, till i start to smell... the fever...

so, i stayed in bed to sweat it all off, as my bones were cracking and aching and my spirit was low, but somehow i knew it was not the end...

i'm better today, cooler, but coughing and sneezing incessantly...

my thoughts escalate from despair to hope, to creative energy to extreme sadness, from nunbness, to boldness, etc...

i am tired

the pocket watch has stopped working at 8:21/ 20:21 and a small piece is chipped away between the 4 and 5... devastating... is this a sign?

the phone is not ringing
the text notification is not clinking
the exchanges are very rare and specific; mercury?

in my fluey stupor, i pull and push, remember and forget, hold on to and let go, almost totally accept...

next?
i shall see... meanwhile, i am about to start again, again, in almost about everything and that is more mind - space taking than...

and in the heart...

a door...more than ajar...

through thick and thin

it's quiet.

full and new moons have been and gone leaving traces of lingering impressions behind...

retrograde for another eleven days...

it's silent.

still.

giving plenty of room for reflection and hopefully not despair.

must keep cool at all times.
maintain happiness and aboveness...

must, should, ought to... blah blah blah... is this careful manifestation working? is it ego? pride? reaction? or simply a tactic? destiny pushing and shoving so that we act correctly? other factors controlling/ influencing/ chipping/ damaging/ constructing?

i hold no worry, no grudge, but belief, patience, understanding, consistency and love. of course.
i have said it before and i'm writing it here again: the ball has started rolling and it's rolling well; no point for doubt and/ or pessimism; all obstacles eliminated, heart open, quest for freedom inevitable, emotional depth ultimate! beyond our control!

meanwhile, practicalities and logistics are on the agenda of the everyday, as well as, solving glitches. breaking patterns, drastic changing and busy, so busy schedules and scheduling...

the LLGFF 2011 was short this year, as this useless and patriarcal government cut it to one week (instead of two)... that resulted in two reactions: the usual, moaning, uproaring one and a very positive one, which created an alternative festival around the east end of london for four days, afetr a loose converstaion of three friends over some red wine: FRINGE gay film fest was born: with four days of the launch and other parties, screenings and talks and events and performances in altrenative, cool places in hackney. and it was great. fun. interesting. fantastically embraced.

the bar was asked to be involved and we had the most splendid time. completely. with no problems, interruptions, drama. just pure, undiluted fun, with lots of peeps coming in, drinking, mingling, watching the women's shorts... upstairs in the victorian living room...

we were also blessed with this unbelievable sunshine, warmth and blue skies, which we all here in london crave so much, so that added to the fun of our festival...

i got together with friends wandering around the various visual and oral treats, either live, or on the screen... we drank wine, we ate foods from all over the world, right on our doorstep and we celebrated our good fortune... as we are lucky and healthy and alive and free, more than others here and everywhere... the power of the collective is not to be underestimated, therefore, practised more ofen than not, especially in these challenging times, where the material is so irrelevant and the soul isn't...

i am exercising my liberty and struggling not to forget my heart
i am utilising my logic and slowly letting go of the shuckles of my stubborness
i remain detached, yet involved; distant, yet loyal; melancolic, yet understanding and very very busy...

and i don't forget to season, however, all fine and dandy and i'm doing (hopefully) well and the right thing, but...

there is some vacuuming to be done... and some serious screaming... to clean and offload...

the wonderful game of love

is it?

i guess...

exactly one month after my last post, although i have been thinking of writing long before...

i am here

but where?

the full moon on saturday 19 was MASSIVE and so amazing!

spring has come knocking on our london doors, but still crisp and chilly

the sun is shining in the mornings, offering sweet confusion and anticipation, positivity and possibilities; exciting and scary stuff afoot; cannot escape, neither analyse mentally, so the heart has to feel and decide... to rise again in yummy fluffiness and gorgeous love!

faded memories slightly occupy my being: spring when i was at college, falling in love in spring, being in love in spring, new activities and beginnings, lighter clothes, a smile on my face, a spring on my step... sweet melancoly...

agendas and other catastrophes

it's been nearly a month and i'm not quite ready to write, but i missed it, so i write, without caring to particularly identify, clarify, solve, resolve, conclude, define...

... but just write and see where it takes us all this post of mine, today wednesday 23 february at 2:36am, in my bed in london.

where was i?

archiving
collecting
remembering
tidying up
closing to open

the photographs
the words
the memories
the happenings
for the new chapters

where am i?

in a busy flux
in a new emotional challenge
in a completed, yet again, complete piece of work (on line soon), clearing further any left over debris
in a harsher elimination process
in a non tolerance of injustice
in frustration for the state of humanity
in hope and faith for a good future
in more art, fun, love, more refined style and quality
in firmer friendships
in health (must check teeth and eyes, though as a yearly body MOT)

what is my agenda?

in physical terms, yes, things ought to be done by me pronto and well
in metaphysical terms, things are less defined and clear, yet they remain clean...

in a story that i almost experienced, not long ago, but so irrelevant and far away now, i began to understand the dynamics of love...
in a story that i am currently experiencing, i shall practise these dynamics and that is wonderfully scary, terribly unfamiliar and generally, very good for me, as it pushes me further to get to know myself via the love of another and love the other!

i'm inspired again, yet quite uncertain, somewhat confused and definitely thrilled... by practising more compassion, but no compromise and let up for complacency and laziness, by eliminating resentment, but remaining alert and awake and delightfully ruthless, by giving and sharing the myriads of interests (from culture to baking) and by realising the immense potential.

a small crisis

to be resolved properly and on time with honesty and an objective view (as much as possible)

good quality plans

communication

fun

image

attire

slowly, but surely, the pace is great and changing all the time

the blood is very there, very red and very pumping
the heart is very clean and very pounding
the stomach full of ribbons and butterflies (so uncomfortably enjoyable)

alive again?
still?
most likely!
that is my agenda...

photo above by sophie allen

archives ii

additional photography by jorge monedero
©stav B

archives i

i made sculpture…

‘A consistent theme within Stav’s work concerns the self-referential aspect of art(art about art). This began with the deliberate de-aesthetising of established forms, suggesting it was possible to augment an original and recognisable style. However, Stav’s present approach adopts the opposite strategy – the carefulmanipulation of proportion combined with the intrinsic qualities of glass proffer aseductive inducement for the spectator to enjoy perceptual as well as theoretical considerations. The structure of the work is built on a conspicuously ‘rational’ model for visual display whilst the disruptioninherent in the reflective and refractive properties of glass make the work mercurial, conditioned by the surroundinglight, movement, etc. These phenomena frequently transcend the rational aspect of the work and create a fetishistic dimension. The balance remains, however, since beyond the seduction a question remains concerning the rhetoric of displayitself, framed within the conventions of the art exhibition’.

Rob Prewett – Head of Sculpture, Camberwell College of Arts.


i made installations…

‘En – tout – cas’ by Stav B. is a sequence of three sprinters’ hurdles, the heights adjusted, diminishing as they receded, creating a subtle perspectival illusion. Relocating them in an interior space rendered these qualities useless. Tempting as it may have been to take a running jump, there was insufficient room for a decent run up to clear the first hurdle and even if by some supreme feat of athleticism it had been possible, the second and third hurdles followed on so closely as to make itfutile‘.

Rob Kesseler – Untitled Magazine.



how it started…

the profile
Athens-born, London based artist/ photographer/ performance artist, Stav B bases her work on notions of repetition, expansion, reflection, distortion, obsession, fetishism and voyeurism. To orchestrate a volume of work, she uses fragments of the body: (for now) the feet: Feet in high heels in various (ambiguous) positions in various locations (where heels are not supposed to be), indoors, outdoors, staircases, transitional spaces, vehicles, rough-surfaced floors. An obsessional body of images incorporating (cinematic) narrative, emotion, evocation, atmosphere and sex, which opt to unravel identity via theatricality and masquerade; a repetitive still (and at times, moving) performance. An odd and perverse game of the ‘I’.

This is a continuous progress/ process of the thematic infinitum: The still becomes the slide, the slide becomes the filmic loop, the film becomes the live act, the actual representation, the theatrical narrative: the performance.

Performative monologues, spectacular, interactive, moody, abstract, tragic and humorous…

… ‘little by little, drop by drop, the glass of my being will fill one day, ready to drink, to devour, to enjoy, to kill completely…’.
Ambiguous and appropriate props (flowers and petals, glitter, feathers, dolls, swings and boxes, lights and unfamiliar/ familiar sounds) add to the manifestation of thespectacles and most importantly, the verbal interpretation of the soul and the mind: The spoken word, the poem, the prose. Always close to the bone and to guide her back to the still narrative, a perfect (almost) circle.


I am the passionate spectator, passionate compassionate. The futile dreamer. The force and the energy. I am the believer… There is an intimate and subconscious motive for the ridiculous and the erotic. A sleazy journey of animated desire and perpetual obsession…A little society of spectacles just for you: A brief journey in the wonderland of your aspirations, interpretations, dreams, hidden passions, sounds and scents.

http://www.stav-b.co.uk

completing (work in progress)

words/ details to follow...
all photos by sophie allen
whitstable. january 2011