Fat Thursday

I was going to write about something completely different today but I was reminded that today is the Fat Thursday in Poland. Actually I was listening to the radio news about Ukraine and the Fat Thursday seemed almost more important than political subjects. Such is the power of tradition in Poland. Fat Thursday is celebrated by overeating. Not only in Poland. Germans, Hungarians, Spanish also follow this fattening tradition. Polish favourite pastries are pączki – large deep-fried doughnuts typically filled with rose jam or other marmalades, glazed with sugar.

Another favourites are faworki – thin dough ribbons, deep fried until crispy and sprinkled with caster sugar.

You are meant to consume the traditional sweets to bring you luck. The more you eat the more luck you will have. I just realised that I am in trouble this year. There is no way I could even get one of the mandatory sweets, in Sydney and this time of the day. It is the Thursday evening. The best I could do was to have a piece of toast with butter (as a fat component).  I am not sure at all that I have fulfilled the requirement of the day this way. So talking to my friend in Poland, who was just preparing a Fat Thursday party for his family, I asked if they could have a doughnut for me, like a drink to my health. Have a doughnut to my luck, sort of a thing. I am not sure if this will work. But I did my best to comply.

Judy Cassab

          

                                                                 

One of my big interests is paintings. There is a longish family history attached to it. My mother was a frustrated as she did not feel fulfilled as artist. She was good at drawing and had a keen sense of colour. I think I took the interest in painting with some of her genes. Frankly, I do not fully subscribe to  the theory of genes as a strong determinant of the way we are. I accept that there might be some influence but they are not hard coded in us. Inherited genes can be overridden given special attention. This is my belief. I was always interested in drawing and painting. My mother, however, liked to take over my art homework and produced work which always impressed my teachers. I find is surprising that this treatment has not damaged my independence. However, if I was to dig a little deeper into my psyche, interesting things may came up related to my mother taking over my creative tries. I was growing up believing that my job is to admire paintings of others without trying painting myself. Do I have regrets? Maybe some, but not too strong. I am directing my creativity to writing, this keeps me happy.

One of things I really love doing for fun is going to Art Galleries of the world. Especially, important ones. My favourite gallery is Mauritshuis in The Hague and my favourite painter Vermeer, favourite painting View of Delft. Having written that, I realised that I do not have really a favourite paining, there are many of them. Many others of Vermeer’s as well. And I like portraits best. I guess my interest in psychology comes out to play. So why I selected the View of Delft? Not sure. It is a beautiful painting.

                                       

I was going to write about Judy Cassab not about myself, so ad rem.

Recently I bought Judy Cassab’s diaries from the period from April 1944  to September 1993. Judy is now 93 and I am sorry that she stopped writing so soon. Or maybe she continued her diaries only I do not know about it yet?

Judy Cassab was born in 1920, a Hungarian Jew. She came to Australia in 1951 escaping from painful memories of the war and extermination of her closest family. She was then, already an accomplished painter with special talent and interest in portraits. In a very short time she became famous in Australia and other parts of the world like England, paining portraits of rich and famous, royalty of the world in many aspects of the word. Her paintings are not only portraits. There are also  abstract painting of truly Australian landscapes. I am yet to get to know this part of her art.

Looking at the portraits of Frank Packer and the self portrait, I hope you agree with me she is a great painter.

                   

She is also a wise woman, reading her diary is not only art educational. I have clarified few life questions for myself reading the book. I respond to her sense of humour and I am learning about Australian painters, painting politics, , I am now reading about 1990 times and I will miss my mornings with Judy Cassab’s memories when I finish the book.

In a couple of weeks I will go to see her exhibition in The National Portrait Gallery in Canberra. Really, really looking forward to it. I will write more about her (and myself) after I come back from the trip.

 

12 Years a Slave - story not only about past

I did go to see the film and I am glad. The film has indeed many cruel scenes, but not more than say Django Unchained or other films by Tarantino or many others. Steve McQueen is the director. I did not know him, but I think I may catch up on his other films and see Hunger and Shame at some stage. He impressed me.

Reflecting on violence in films, I question if it is necessary or could intended messages be passed without showing violence explicitly? I do not think that there is one black and white answer to it. Pun not intended.

Was there too much violence in 12 Years a Slave? I do not think so, even if I looked away several times to avoid seeing particularly painful scenes. Painful to watch, yes. There were moments that made me shudder but without the visual message the pain of the story would not be that powerfully shown. The film is not supposed to only move us emotionally; it is meant to make us feel the pain of what it means to be considered a lesser being. I think that the film is important and current as there are people who feel better and even superior to others. 

Thinking about Polish issues, there are lots of condescending words and behaviours directed at people who are “different”: non Catholics, homosexuals, other nationalities, non patriots (whatever that means) and many others just different to “typical” good Poles.

Some others think that riding a motor bike is very suspicious, dangerous to society and should be punished.

There is a scene in the film when Salomon, the hero, is looking through the window of his place of torture and sees the White House.

This story is not only about the past.

The film is also very beautifully filmed by its cinematographer Sean Bobbitt; the pictures of the southern nature are like paintings, some abstract, some impressionistic. They were the moments to take a breath and focus for short moments on beauty, not just human cruelty.

 I got rather serious, too serious perhaps, but such are my reflections after seeing the film.

Another film I saw lately was August: Osage County. Again, a difficult film, this time about the cruelty of a strong woman, brilliantly played by Meryl Streep. Julia Roberts plays another strong woman and she also displays streaks of cruelty. I am not going write about my observations on the subject of strong women, cruelty and reasons. Not this time anyhow.

12 Years a Slave

Few days ago I read in a friendly blog views on the film which seems to be screened across the world right now. I know of India, Poland and Australia showing the film in February. It has good reviews, 10 Oscar nominations and reputation of showing  extreme cruelty. The post, I mentioned, has many comments. Most of them, if not all, say NO, I DO NOT INTEND TO SEE IT. The reason is cruelty scenes in the film and unwillingness to subject oneself to unnecessary stress, horror and depression. I do agree with all the comments and my sentiments are very similar. It made me think, though. Sometimes we have to know unpleasant things to understand the world. There are times the knowledge can protect us or we may even be able to prevent suffering of others. I know that  is seems far-fetched to think that me having knowledge about slavery can save others from suffering.

Tomorrow is my movie day and I wonder if my friend and I will choose to see 12 Years a Slave. Romain Rolland French winner of Nobel Prize for Literature, idealist and a lover of truth said -  There is only one heroism in the world: to see the world as it is, and to love it.

I wonder if I am heroic enough to even see the film, not to mention loving all people after seeing that much human cruelty as I read the film contains.