Join me! For the Opening Reception of my solo show exhibiting my newest collection of paintings: November 11th 6-10pm @ Robert Hartshorn Studio & Gallery (2342 Professor Avenue, Cleveland, OH 44113). Check Facebook for more info, FB: /LILAROSEKOLE
Repost from @lilaumm || The Turkish Market in Neukölln/Kreuzburg : at the mouth of the market the scent of incense greets my nostrils as It comes into focus that I'm being serenaded by a man sitting on a carpet playing the diggery-du; his backdrop is the Spree Canal. People moving and jostling: coffees and olives, scarves catching wind, pastries and fish and cheese surround me. I follow the incense to a tent where a man is concocting oils; I sniff each decanter twice until I've overwhelmed my sense of smell, and I give up trying to name a fragrance as I bump into hanging necklaces and boxes of dried herbs. --And then I catch a waft of warmth and sweetness -- "forest nut" soup in a large caldron. I get a cup of this somewhat mysterious soup --west African spicy peanut soup, I later learn-- and I let it carry me into an endorphic state, the heat of it bringing life again to my fingertips (it happened to be one of the coldest days during my trip to Berlin). Strolling through booths of cookies still warm and raw meat freshly butchered, I hear indistinct voices calling from all sides and I imagine these voices saying: "buy your lover these flowers! and carrot bundles for 1 euro! and beautiful necklaces! handmade soaps! special price, special almonds!" ...I am tranced.
Repost from @lilaumm Neukölln. Berlin, Germany. The air is damp in Berlin; a wet cold, perhaps from the winter ritual of an early morning mist, or perhaps because it's always this way. And yet by contrast the trees and ground are always dry, repellent of the humidity. Often I find my way home by this peeling graffiti-ed wall. But on one particularly gray day I notice parts of the wall were seasoned with a spectrum of greens and browns from a subtle growing mold/moss.
View from Golan Heights, Israel (pt.1). Looking down on the Syrian border: just slightly beyond the crops in the foreground a fence hugs the gently rolling green. And only slightly beyond that a series of towns: plumes of smoke rise into the sky, persistent echoes hit the air, exploding bombs, gunshots, a spark of fire here --and then there. How surreal, the horror, standing only miles away from this turmoil, people ravaged, destroyed, a war zone just below my feet. The crops in the foreground are outlined in pine trees; a necessary barrier protecting the olive trees and other crops from stray bullets which often find themselves flying across the border into Israel. #syrianborder#golanheights#wartourism