Wild Strawberries

There are some movies that you hear about, read about, find references about in different sources but haven’t had a chance to watch. “Wild Strawberries“, Ingmar Bergman’s movie of 1957, was one of those movies for me. It came in the mail a few months ago but I couldn’t find a stretch of uninterrupted time to watch it until today. Besides time, one has to be in a right set of mind - it is Bergman after all, plus the movie is in Swedish with English subtitles, so concentration and alertness are required.

Its plot is quite simple – the 78 years old professor Isak Borg travels by car from Stockholm to Lund to receive an honorary degree. During the course of his journey he encounters a number of people, get involved in a number of accidents, and has a number of experiences, which lead him to the spiritual release by the end of the movie.

I like how reality coexists with dreams, nightmares, flashbacks and fantasies there. Almost at the beginning the viewer is invited into a nightmare of the main character. Professor Borg is lost on the empty streets. He tired to find his way but all the streets look the same. He tries to see the time but the face of both, his watch and the street clock, are blind. He sees a person standing near the building. He taps him on a shoulder and the person falls, deflating like a balloon. A hearse comes around the corner. It bumps into the lamppost causing the coffin to slide onto the street, its lid half opened. Professor Borg tries to see who is it in the coffin and discovers his own face starring back at him.

A scene lasts about 4 minutes but lay out the main themes of the movie – the fear of dying, loneliness, loss of the way.

It isn’t a dark movie but certainly the one that demands the viewer's attention. One has to follow the intricate diving in and out of reality in order not to loose his footing in this movie. And then there are symbols that keep reappearing in different scenes, deepening the meaning or offering a completely new one.

One symbol touched me the most – wild strawberries. In the movie wild strawberries became the threshold to the childhood memories, the symbol of carefree summers, the joy of life. During this summer I find myself revisiting my childhood in almost the same manner. In my case it is blueberries instead of wild strawberries. They grow at the lava fields and recently while showing the kids how to thread them on the grass I was flooded with mental images of my childhood, all those summer days we used to run around at the country side.

I didn’t mention that it is black and white movie. I find it very fitting – it emphasizes the old age and also the black and white perspective on life, which often occurs when a person so set in his/her ways that it causes emotional deafness.

Cold

For two weeks straight I have been battling some strange cold. It came first with fever headache, and general feeling of being not well. After five days it got better and I even went outside, the weather was so great it was shame to miss it. The photo on the left is from one of those sunny days. On the fourth day of my gradually feeling better I was hit by the second round of a cold, which culminated in me loosing my voice. Considering that the kids are at home on the spring break we have an interesting communication – I whisper and they, without even realizing it, whisper back. One of their friends came over for a sleepover and started to do the same. It reminded me of an old rule of the teachers - if you want to be heard, lower your voice. Funny as it sounds, it always worked well in the classroom.
During the first phase of my cold I read all six books of Harry Potter (we haven’t bought the seventh one yet), so my night dreams were filled with wizards, death eaters, dragons, and such. Then I add to this mix “The Lightening Thief”, which features the adventure of a young boy, who happens to be the son of Poseidon, and my dreams were inhabited by Greek gods and heroes. I never noticed before such direct connection between my readings and dreaming, perhaps I should use it to my advantage and try to manipulate my dreams.
One other book brought a beautiful surprise – a forgotten poem. It was a translation from Russian, which often disguise poems to the point of non recognition. This time the recognition was instant, no hesitation.

Insomnia. Homer. Taut sails.
I’ve read to the middle of the list of ships:
the strung-out flock, the steam of cranes
that once rose above Hellas.

Flight of cranes crossing strange borders,
leaders drenched with the foam of the gods,
where are you sailing? What would Troy be
to you, men of Achaea, without Helen?

I am going slightly mad

It's finally happen..

After spending most of the day in the gallery, speaking with artists, reading about their art, trying to jot down the associations it evokes in me, and my friend pointing out that ink drawings of Gabriela Fridriksdottir bear stylistic similiarities with Jonh Lennon's drawings I had a dream of speaking with Yoko Ono about the work of Icelandic artists.

The most amusing part it isn't so far farfetched - Yoko Ono did visited Iceland and even opened the monument "Peace Tower" here, she is interested in art, so technically it can happen.

After hearing about my dream during breakfast my younger son noticed: "Mom, do you realize that you cannot stop speaking about exhibitions?" (I immediately pointed out that he couldn't stop talking about his computer games, but, yes, he was right).

My interest in art , unnoticed by me, morphed into obsession and in the light of this discovery, I open a new blog, which will be solely devoted to art in Iceland and my discoveries in that field.

And she is 75? Image courtesy of "Hey City Zen" blog

Questions and Answers

In the middle of a nice email exchange with one of my former classmates I was ambushed with a question: “So, what is your greatest dream?” Firstly, it is a moral equivalent of stepping in a muck during a nice stroll. Secondly, isn’t there some rule of ethics which forbid asking this question after certain age? What dreams if you are trying to keep up with reality? After careful consideration I’ve decided to add the offensive question to my ever growing list of questions demanding automatic responses:

• “How are you?” “Splendid”
• “Are you happy?” “Delirious”
• “How are your kids?” “Great”
• “How do you like living in …(fill in the blanks)” “Very much”
• “What is your greatest dream?” “World Peace”

In truth I have a dream – I want to have a special power of learning every new language coming my way in 3 three days. First day – phonetics, second – grammar, third – fluency.

Strawberry Fields? Forever?

I dreamt today of a new fragrance with the name "Strawberry Fields". It came in a champagne shaped bottle. I browsed the store, spotted an interesting design, took a breath and was instantly charmed by its uplifting, delicate, yet very distinctive scent. The price was a bit much. A sales lady tried to stir me towards something on sale, three in one, much cheaper with not bad but dated smell. I was torn. Before any decision was made the alarm went off.

The uplifting effect of those dreamy Strawberry Fields still lasts.