hotel bedford

ek het in 'n vorige post (22 Junie) oor die GREAT oosthuysen-familie geskryf waar ek tydens my fiets-reis in die oos-kaap in februarie 2011 oorgebly het. in kort : 'n familie wat hulle deur en harte vir my oopgemaak het, sonder om my van 'n bar of soap te ken. chop-chop het die ys gesmelt, die soundsystems uitgerol, gepartykie laat die biesies bewe. die pa, andre, het vir my 'n CD opgeneem waarop ek 50 minute se klaviermusiek speel. my eerste vol-lengte opname! ek het laas week een van die tracks op my blog opgelaai. hou die spasie dop > nog meer gaan volg(-;

hulle seun, diaan, het die sondag oggend "Hotel California". saam met sy kitaar gesing  - wat 'n engel van 'n stem. ek het die woorde van die song http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/eagles/hotelcalifornia.html gevat en dit omskep in >>>

hotel bedford

vir die oosthuysens in bedford

op 'n helder ooskaap straat, warm wind in my hare
koel geur van skaduwee's wat oprys deur die blare
daar voor aan die groen kant van die straat
hoor ek hoe glimmerende klanke met my praat
my voete groei vlerke en my oë word helder
ek't gestop vir die nag of drie
daar staan julle in die deur
ek hoor hoe adam blaf
en ek dink by myself,
'hierdie is die knus sonhuis EN die koel oase van 'n sterregewelf'
julle vat my fiets en wys my die weg
daar was stemme deur die gang,
wat aan my ore kom hang...

welkom by Hotel Bedford
so 'n lieflike plek
wat jou gees en lyf opwek
soveel liefde en plesier in Hotel Bedford
enige tyd van die dag
kan jy dit daar vind sonder om te soek of te wag
haar stem is die van 'n aktrise, sy het 'n huis van spieëls en klippe
en 'n fan-club van kinders en engele wat hang aan haar rooi, rooi lippe
sy het baie mooi, mooi drome wat sy op haar vlerke neem
en hoe ons kon dans in die valentynsnagte
soele sweet en soene bly klou alomheen
sommige dans om te lewe, sommige lewe om te dans!

so roep ek die kaggaberg,
asseblief, bring my 'n glas koelte
hy antwoord, 'sorrie, ons is uit; ons het dit nog laas bedien in die 
voorjaar se soelte'
en nogsteeds klink die stemme van hier naderby
wek hulle geeste in die middel van die dag wat agter my kuite bly ingly
en ek hoor hulle sê...

welkom by Hotel Bedford
so 'n lieflike plek
wat jou gees en lyf opwek
soveel liefde en plesier in Hotel Bedford
enige tyd van die dag
kan jy dit daar vind sonder om te soek of te wag
hulle weet hoe om te lewe in Hotel Bedford
wat 'n wonderlike plek om die tyd te verwyl
daar waar jy in die oase se skadu's kan skuil;
die liedere van 'n suiwer seunstem kan hoor sing
en die sketse van 'n meisiehand oral om jou sien uitkring

kitare teen die muur
koffie op die vuur
en hy sê, 'kom speel die klawers van die yamaha,
ek sal jou opneem vir die nageslag, sê net ja'
en tussen die klankmeester se kabels
roep ek my galoperende vingers bymekaar
en ek speel diep in die rekenaar se geheue in
en voel en hoor hoe die klanke my hart oorwin

...

die laaste ding wat ek onthou, ek't my rooi perd opgesaal teen 'n wolklose
lug
en uit die hittegolwe van Poseidon gevlug
ek kon die roep van die pad nie langer ignoreer
om die lesse van die swerwers verder te leer
die portier sê,

ons is geprogrammeer om liefde te gee en te ontvang.
jy kan enige tyd jou gang gaan
maar jou hart sal bly om na Hotel Bedford te verlang.

24 februarie 2011

To my fellow Afrika Burners - a poem for you all

I miss my Burning Family so much. You have crept deep into my heart.

I want to share a poem with you

The Pulse of Fire

from this wild dance i stumble over my feet

the wild energy

still clinging around my calves

i tiptoe guardedly with

the pulse of fire that pumps firelight through my veins

it can only be fertile fire

that is so alive

and colours my blood red-hot

so that I can look out over the plains

like newly fired clay

and feel decades of survive

beating through my blood

the fever of the will charges through the flaming tunnels

with an insistent rhythmica

it reforms my feet into

primitive pulsations of dance

that flames over the skin of earth

tautly strung muscles tremble ritualistically

like resonating songs over vocal chord and plains

yes, indeed! fire's captured energy knows no equal

fire speaks in one language

that all clay and skin fathom without cerebrality

it is the embrace of fire

that teaches us to love

it is the unrest of fire

that teaches us to know no peace

unquenchable phrases of fire

siss steam sing

fired body is now alone,

in her vitrified melancholy,

so fiercely alone

photo: Francois le Roux

Direction of Fish / Rigting van Vis

In March this year I was part of a colloborative exhibition/show in Parktown, Jhb. The fellow artist was sculptor Coenie Strydom. He assembled 18 of his ceramic and cement sculptures for which I wrote 18 complementing poems. Here are two of the pieces >

rigting van vis I

vis-kop-en-vin wys die rigting aan

waar ons heen moet gaan:

na die water-katedrale

waar ongehoorde liedere

deur wier en alg breek

en die water-hamonieё

my lyf be-vin

en my ge-aard-heid

distilleer tot

hierdie nuwe

vis-bestaan

-

direction of fish I

head and fin of fish show the direction

in which we must go:

to the water cathedrals

where unheard songs

break through moss and kelp

and the harmonies of water

re-fin my body

and distil

my being into

this new

fish existence

rigting van vis II

soos katedrale-klanke
klink die see deur die holtes
van die skeletale oorblyfsel van
vis
roep sy oogholtes hunkerend
na die nat glimmer vinne
wat eens die soet smaak van die getye 

geproe het
-

direction of fish II

the sea sounds like cathedral timbres

through the cavities

of the skeletal remnants of

fish

the hollow of his eyes calls longingly

to the wet glimmer fins

that once tasted the sweetness

of the speed of tides

Pols van Vuur

Pols van Vuur by Lara Kirsten

Herewith my first sound appearance on my blog!  It is me improvising on the piano!

[play the track while reading the poem below]

I am playing on an electronic piano of the Oosthuyzen family I met in February this year in the quaint Eastern Cape town of Bedford. It was during my first cycle journey of the year; I stopped over at the schools in the small towns and gave workshops in Afrikaans poetry and where there was a piano at hand, we made music as well!

I was staying over at the hostel of the Bedford Country School when friend, Hessie in J-Bay suggested I make contact with the Oostuyzen family living just next to the school. Hessie emphasized that they have a sound studio (-; I loaded my bike, waved the school kiddies goodbye and trekked next door. I made contact and lo and behold, this vibrant family opened up their home for me for the entire weekend. Andre Oosthuyzen, his wife Rika and their two beautiful children, Diaan and Coreen are the "music" and "arty" family in Bedford. 

And what a weekend we had. It was Valentinesday the Saturday and sommer in a jiffy they organised that I play piano for the Dance that evening. Andre is also a brilliant DJ, so after the formality of dinner and civilized piano music we had the djol of our lives. You can not imagine that a mother of two can party so exuberantly as Rika! Go Girl!

Anyway to get back to the recording - I never thought I would do a recording on an electronic instrument; I just prefer the wood, ebony and ivories of a REAL piano. Yet I grabbed the opportunity when Andre suggested the idea of recording. On the Sunday in their livingroom, amidst noises coming from the television, computer games and chattering I recorded a 50 minute CD. (That is the wonder of this electronic instrument - you play directly into the computer so no external noises are picked up.) Andre, well-versed in sound engineering quickly sorted all the tracks and voila, burnt the CD and gave it to me to take on my journey. The collection of 23 tracks is a mix of classics, blues, jazz and improvisations. I have used the CD as a demo; and it has been opening a few doors of opportunity and sharing! 

To have ones music on disc is such a powerful tool. And even more powerful now that I have discovered the tools of the internet and uploaded a track onto The Net. Technological gadgets and programs are so much part of our First World existence, and yet I am dumbstruck by the possibilities and convenience it adds to one's life.

The track featuring here was inspired by a filmmaker and friend of mine in Stellenbosch, Pierre Lombard. I initially called the track "Son op die R63". I had visions of Pierre making a short film of this long and beautiful road, the R63. I cycled on that road in the sweltering heat of that February sun. I now changed it to "Die pols van Vuur" (The pulse of Fire). My Afrikaans poem below adds an extra dimension to the music. Read, listen and enjoy!

die pols van vuur

uit die wilde dans steier ek

die wilde pas

nog taai om my kuite

trippel ek vreesbevange met

die pols van vuur wat fakkels deur my are pomp

dit kan net vrugbare vuur wees

wat so lewendig in my binnenste kom sit

en my vel rooi-warm verkleur

sodat ek soos ‘n nuut gepoleerde beeld

oor die plein staar

en dekades van survive

in my rooi bloed voel klop

die koors van die wil kom met die vlamme-tonnels

deurgelei met ‘n indringerige ritmika

dit hervorm my voete tot

primitiewe passies dans

wat vlam oor die vel van aarde se kontinente van klip

styfgespande spiere tril ritualisties

soos uitgegilde liedere oor stemband en vlaktes tril

ja, wragtig! hierdie vasgevange energie ken geen gelyke

vuur praat in een taal

wat alle klei en vel sonder serebraliteit kan verstaan

dis die omhelsing van vuur

wat ons leer om lief te hê

dis die onrus van vuur

wat ons leer om geen vrede te ken

voortstuwende frases van vlam

suis stoom sing

nou is beeld van lyf alleen,

in haar geharde melankolie,

so bitter-alleen

day in day out

day in

day out

i look to find traces of you

in the folds of the city

on the edges of the wind

i catch phantom-parts of you

a shoulder here

a cheekbone there

but never the whole you

i scavenge alleys

sniff torn newspapers

all that i pick up is

signs of your unwhererabouts

A great connection

I am staying over for a few days at the home of a good friend, Maggie Verster. She is The One who has rigged me up with my blog, my facebook, twitter and gmail and helped to set-up my blackberry to perform like a mini-wizard! We met in Hogsback where she is based for some weeks in a year. For the rest of the time she lives with her family in Jozi and she opened up her home for me whenever I pass by. She has wonderful wifi connection so I can connect, update and upload to my heart's content. 

Maggie is an Educational Technology Specialist. For REAL. Can you imagine someone like this crossing my path? I am blessed to the max! It is one of those relationships one can so easily take for granted, because of the free flow of interaction. Yet I need to send a special note of gratitude to her. I can run to her with almost any technological heart ache and she will find a remedy! I know you are reading (and administering) my blog, so you will read this, dear Maggie.

Maggie and I connect in a wonderfully flowing and comfortable way. She is such a spirited and enthusiastic woman. In her company any mood of heaviness and despondency evaporates. She has been a great support to me. If I can call anyone a fan of mine, she is definitely it - the best you can possibly imagine! Around her I feel the confidence of a lion on the hunt. As an artist astir with so many mind and body flights she has a way of reconnecting many of my loose running threads. Initially we had passionate dialogue about the pros and cons of cyber-networking. Before I met her I was rather reactionary about the whole C-generation and its workings. To be honest, I was simply uninformed.

Only two months ago I started to accept all my Facebook requests, tweeting and blogging. Lo and behold, I am now quite addicted...I love photographs, writing and communication... so all these tools were created for me!!! I understand why I rebelled against it – the fear of being sucked in.. And ooipelooi I am so sucked in!! I love crossing boundaries. It was bound to happen to step into this realm!

Maggie > ek onthou my en jou dialoog aan die begin  >

ek se banaal
jy se kommunikasie
ek se ydelheid
jy se opvoeding
ek se tentakels
jy se omhelsing

jy het vir my 'n wereld oopgemaak wat my eers skrik op die lyf gejaag het.
'n wereld wat my dizzy, f*kkin dizzy maak.
maar sonder druk of stoot het jy my in die wonder web ingetoor.
ja hierdie wereld toor met my kop
dit maak my duiselig
dit oorweldig my
dit stimuleer my eindeloos
 - ek sit tot wie weet watter ure in die oggend op jou wifi -
dit daag my uit
dit verskuif my grense
dit laat my ril van plesier
'n wereld met nimmereindigende poorte
wat my soos Alice – weirdly wonderful – laat voel

I feel so well connected – on so many levels – thank you,  Maggie. You are much loved and appreciated!
x

Shakespeare in the nude

When I start poetizing about nudity then you should know I do take the matter of the bare skin very seriously! I felt so inspired that I took one of Shakespeare's famous sonnets and transcribed it into this:

Let me not in the necessity for clothes

Succumb to illusion. Nude is not nude

When it covers the uncoverable,

Or colours the contours to recontour:

Oh no, it is an ever-fixed state,

That looks on shame, and is never shaken;

It is the compass to all bodies,

Whose senses are challenged yet sharpened.

Nude's not society's fool, though erotic mounds

Keep coming under the knife of moral scrutiny;

Nude deceives not in the face of exposure,

But bares it all till shame loses its name.

If nude be proved as a true right of skin,

We will be forever redeemed from this so-called sin

The original Shakespeare (Sonnet 116):

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with this brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error, and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Dilemma

I have seen a youtube video of a segment of my performance at
AfrikaBurn - the piece where I was born from the ground, naked with
only a panty on.
Initially when I saw it I was quite excited and flustered. He first
and last time I have appeared in youtube videos was with a poetry
performance in The Netherlands 2 years ago. I was fully dressed then
(-;
The cameraman who uploaded the video on youtube 2 days ago only asked
me whether I mind him uploading the video AFTER the fact. I initially
told him, no worries, and I didn't feel any worries. The fuller
stirrings of this dilemma only started hitting me now.
The context of my performance was at Afrikaburn where one is
surrounded by likeminded people. It is a safe space for the creative
and expressive individual. I do varied performances from strict
classical music recitals, standard performing poetry events, to
challenging, primal, cathartic stuff like this STOF piece at
Afrikaburn. I am quite comfortable with the many facets and roles of
my creative "personae". (It was and still is a long journey to reach
full confidence.)
Yet, I am starting to feel very vulnerable, exposed to see this
youtube video. People's responses have been quite good so far. I think
and hope it's going to be mostly Afrikaburners who'll watch the video,
but hey, Lara, don't be SO naïve. I hear youtube is far more popular
than facebook. (!) Must I feel flattered to have my (naked) presence
on youtube? Must I feel ill at ease? The worry is not the performance
as such - one can scarcely hear my voice. It is the nudity. People
sometime can not see beyond the flesh to the deeper meaning. I have
moved many boundaries in my mind and body, yet I still have a solid
sense of decency, respect, timing and placing. I perform in the nude
in special circumstances, like at a "freedom of expression" festival
like Afrikaburn. The context is of utmost importance. The piece was
directly feeding off the ground, and interacting with a live audience
who was relatively open to and prepared for the idea and theme (and
the nudity).
To have it wam-bam on youtube now seems to me somewhat out of place,
uprooted, disfigured... I can go on oh so dramatically. Why make a big
deal of it? I will, because I feel and think things through. I put
myself out there with great circumspection.
Mm.. The internet can be an untameable beast.
What to do? I don't feel shy. I just feel ever so slightly
uncomfortable. There is quite a lot of photographs of me and other
nude Afrikaburners doing their rounds on the Net. We don't have
control over it.
I hear you saying: if you had a problem with publicised nudity then
you should not have been running around and performing naked in the
first place! Afrikaburn is a heaven for photographers - not just
because of nudists, but the incredible beauty of the colours, the sky,
the artworks, the costumes, the stress-free and attractive demeanour
of the people. I know many moments there are being recorded on film.
That is very much part of the Afrikaburn joy - to archive the
beautiful spontaneity and expressivity.
Afrikaburn is a happening that can and should not be kept under cover.
The spirit and ethos of the fest should spread wider than the Tankwa -
respect for nature; primal dialoguing with the elements; creating a
tolerant space for the free and creative soul; engendering a loving
and compassionate community; installing a gifting economy to replace a
capitalist, consumer-driven society; advocating a mindful,
self-sustainable lifestyle. The deeper meaning of Afrikaburn is not
fully comprehensible from an outsider's perspective. Photos, video and
stories do their utmost best to share what happened there.
I go in the nude with a sense of playfulness, innocence and integrity.
I would like to see the public's perception of nudity broaden with
tolerance and understanding. But we live in warped times. I am comfy
with my nudity in public, mainly because i have an innate attraction
to what is natural and honest. Yet I am not that innocent that I do
not know that nudity can be wrongly judged AND misused. No one has
ever been nasty about my nudity, because I move in mostly open-minded
circle of friends. I do not wish to provoke or lustify like MTV
videos. I wish to make people aware of a childlike spirit that
obstinately clings to the bare skin. (Why can children be barefoot and
bare-bodied and not be frowned upon in public?). It is a naïve wish
perhaps, but I would like to see a future where the paradisiacal state
of innocence, freedom and naturalness will return.
To be comfortable with myself in the Tankwa comes quite naturally, but
to be comfortable to see my semi-nudity spread over the desensitized
space of the internet is quite another.
My mind is unresolved, and a wee but unsettled. Please let me know
what YOU make of it all. Communicate with me on this, please. I am
interested in your opinion.

From the soil

From the soil I learn the rhythm of wind and water
Soil from which woman climbs to feel her skin fully
Soil sings from every corner of her body
Trembles the fertility of soil straight through the soles of her feet
Soil is happy to feel woman treading
her spoor deeply
She presses her lips and chest firmly to the earth
Feel the vibration of mineral strength
She knows it is a myth that she was pulled from the rib of man
Her gut tells her that she was forged from the spine of earth

face (of) the earth

Photos taken by Timothy Honey

I have returned to my blog

I have had many of you wonder where I have disappeared to. Some of you thought that I am still in the Tankwa.. i wish. I am in Jozi - good ol' JoBurg and Winter has properly settled into the bones.

Where do I begin?? After such an incredible experience as AfrikaBurn end of April, I have been so in touch with a reality that filled my veins with so much life, love, exuberance and creativity. I can give many reasons for not blogging after my extraordinary cycle trip and the Afrikaburn experience. The most obvious reason is simply that I was swept up into such a real life, a life that could not be "documented" in cyberspace. The places in my soulspace I have been to defies any journaling, somehow. Once again, i am bugged by the banality of publisizing my life like this. Yet I am making peace with the idea. Good thing - or bad thing?? - I have started to be more active on facebook, and I will be honest, I have found it rewarding and challenging. At night when I go to sleep, the last thing I see is facebook messages on my blackberry. and the first thing i do in the morning is fumbling my hand till it falls on my blackberry, put it on and wait for all the bells and rings to announce all my mails, twitters, sms', bbm's. What I feared will happen has happened - the cyberspatial tentacles have me in their full grasp, and I have started to grow an interesting frown-line between my eyes because of the intent look I focus on the small bb screen! haha! the blackberry frown!

So , jah, how do I reconcile this cyberspace with the ritual space I have been stepping in during and after AfrikaBurn? By doing what I am doing now - stepping right into the wonderful communicative space of the internet and sharing the Great Story that this life is making me so beautifully part of!

How do I start relating the ritual space I have stepped into? Ritual I do not use here off-handedly. It is a space where one plays a role that is so fully you. Even if one puts masks on, or step out of one's clothes - it can all be a place of true reflection of the inner spirit - and AfrikBurn creates such a space. I had to go to the soil of the earth to find my ritual space.  The piece I performed "Life Vitrified / Klei Verewig" turned out to be quite a success - the Afrikaans text I memorized were quickly supplanted by an improvised text. The audience, especially the children, were quite enraptured by this woman being born from the bowels of the earth. It was quite something to see how the audience numbers grew as I went to lie down into the hole I and volunteer "grave-diggers" dug the day before. Many people saw it as "the burial piece" - but I need to state that it was more of a birthing piece, a connection made with Mother Earth, and such a real connection it was. The Tankwa soil is rather rocky, so I came out of my performance quite bruised. What pains and wounds artists will suffer for their art! The piece fed directly on the theme of this year's Afrikaburn  "Stof - The Primal Mud". I dialogued with the earth as a means of exploring identity, femininity, heritage, respect for the earth and the stuff - STOF we are all made of. I intended to perform it at least twice during the fest, but the gravity of the performance was such that I could only handle one performance on the Saturday (the Friday I intended it to be performed, a wedding took place at Afrikaburn - and I could not compete with the festive mood that was in the air!).

Most of the art work at Afrikaburn is "installations" of such mindblowing proportions. It takes so much resources for the creative minds and constructionists to rig their artistic and pyrophiliac visions (-; I find it awesome and moerse inspiring, especially at night when the artworks are set alight. I felt my contribution should be more modest - seeing that I don't have the resources and practicality to erect installations. And yeah - that is what most of the artworks at Afrikaburn is - erections - and I want to balance this very Masculine energy with the Female one - going into the earth. Armed with only body, voice, soul and soil I think I created a very needed installation.

The first thing I felt after the performance was a lostness, a strange sense of misplacement. But soon a more sure sense of Self took root. I felt changed. A confident layer of who I am, and what I can offer the world as a woman, a poet and a performer. A broadened sense of body and soul took shape. When I saw the video footage of videographer Gilles Chevalier I was astounded at how raw and honest the performance actually was. Two things made me nervous about doing this thing: the hard rocky soil covering my body could have easily cut-off circulation in my legs. The hole was not very deep, and yet the ground that covered me was incredibly heavy. The second nerve-wrecking aspect was the fact that I am alone in what I do. I have a vision of the message I want to bring over, and yet one deals with factors inhibiting that.  The one thing - I insisted on performing in Afrikaans, yet well I knew many people in my audience are not versed in Afrikaans. Afrikaans for me is a language of the Stof, of the African Stof and soil. To do such a performance in a tongue other than your mothertongue would have defeated the entire feel/message of the piece. Reconciling all the complex facets of the Afrikaans-tongue, performing in the semi-nude, rolling around the mud and stof, challenging people's expectations of "performing" made it an event I will not forget. For me it was not performing, it was ritual, it was life, it was necessity as much as breathing. If my poetry needs to take me to the muddy breast of Mother Earth to discover truths and faces of myself, I will not stand in the way.