the art magazine BEAUTIFUL DECAY posted about my work .
6 images with a really good , short , clean text by Julie Yeo .
you can see the post here :
Showing posts with label Caio Fernandes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caio Fernandes. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Only rant.... don't need to take out your pants and jump on it .
Only rant.... don't need to take out your pants and jump on it .
OK, first of all: I love to rant . And what I say one day so strongly isn't rare to do not take so seriously on the next day or do not even believe on that . Or believe even more going to the last consequences . There is no logic and this is the way my brain works . If your Anglo-Saxon way to see the world sometimes doesn't match with mine... don't worry , it isn't an scandal... you don't need to lose nights thinking about this and hating me . It is natural and exists a huge world out there where people thinks in a very different way ( not wrong or right , better or worse ) than the way you learn at the school... don't take so seriously, it is just another person's opinion. All the time I post what I am thinking at the moment it causes huge polemic. Why ? Last week had an explosion of people posting hateful opinions about me on Tumblr because a text I posted here . It made me lose followers on Blogspot , Tumblr and Posterous . hahah!! I had to delete it in all the blogs because was tired to answer and be cursed . Even on Wordpress where I never receive any comments , I received few ones complaining about in less than 2 hours . What is Funny is that the ones that complain , curse me , stop to follow my blogs, and posted horrible things about me on Tumblr last week aren't Neo-Nazis , Fanatic Muslims , Buddhist Monks , Christians Ministers , K.K.K., South American Guerrilheiros, ..... no ... are the ones that preach about tolerance and democracy , the ones that believe tolerance must to be the foundation of the society. The ones that are always the first to talk about freedom of speech and thoughts. Those are the ones that throw rocks on me all the time I open my mouth . This is a blog !! If I can't rant on my own blog where am I going to do that ? I'm front of my aquarium to my fishes drinking green tea . I mean... my country came out from dictatorship and still today the politics on the power use sentences as : "there is too much freedom of press, people are abusing " . Yesterday the president made an long speech complaing that people aren't respecting his candidates for this election and the we should shut up. If I can't come to a blog and say what I think... come on !! People on Internet behave as Third World dictators . Every body gets offended because what I say isn't " acceptable " . It is what I said on the last post when people got offended and I had to delete . It is very convenient to tell me to shut up. Yes , this is what they want . People from poor countries must to have any real opinion about nothing because it isn't acceptable . People like me can't express themselves , we should go to the factories and deny our existences producing cheap products to be consumed in the other countries . People like me can't have voice , face ... we must to hide ourselves for the rest of our lives in a way that is more convenient for the citizens of the First World countries. Who wants to remember we exists, right ? If people from my origins produce art , must to be something appropriate to be consumed as an exotic inoffensive thing by the ones in Manhattan , London , Berlin.... I mean... We must to produce something that makes the guy when he goes to the gallery look and feel good with himself saying : "Oh , this is interesting, different , I support his cause , I am a nice open minded sofisticated liberal person , now I can go home in peace and drink a good wine before to sleep with peace of mind because I saw a fucking artists fron a Thrid World country and supported it, i am so special smart and good" . That is the reason i dislike when people refer to me as "Brazilian artist " because following this labels has all the weight of the expectation that i have to do something "different" and nice ... something like a tropical circus monkey , a Carmen Miranda or a stereotype of contemporary art that is what is well accepted today's market . Freedom never comes after the "Brazilian artist" label. This is for sure . But i would be very unfair if i put all the blame on the place I came from. No . It happens with everyone in everywhere today more than ever. The world never was so closed to different opinions and ideas as it has been today .
I was thinking this afternoon how ridiculous have been the 'rockers' for the last decade . You see lots of guys making that proud big headed expressions , putting their noses up and saying : "I am a rocker " " I am a rock star " " I make rock'n'roll" . It is so ridiculous . I never trust an artist that can talk so sure about its work. If you see the bands of the history that made History and changed aesthetic values for real... they on interviews never say " I make rock'n'roll". I remember the few real bands I saw in activity , they were never able to explain their own sounds. They real ones are like that . Art is like that . I never trust on people the can talk about their production so sure of it . It means they aren't really creating, investigating , only reproducing values or formulas that already exist . The biggest artists i saw in my life when asked about their works used to make a pretty dumb face because didn't know how to answer that . What i posted last week was a bit about that ... and i receive a waterfall of rage on my head , still today, one week later i have received very impolite comments about. Sorry if what i say makes you feel that your mask falls and you get angry. But people that is so sure of what is art and what is producing don't have too much to offer . People that are so sure about themselves only reproduces what was already made . It is easy to be sure that way. I am sure when i am making pasta .. it is a recipe that exists for generations. But i am not sure when i am painting or writing or living . Because i do it my way . and my way is brand new, there is no recipe or really concepts to guide me . And if you call this "intellectual talk " as i was accused more than one time before . I am sorry for you. because if you aren't concerned about the nature of what you produce it means you are producing very shallow stuff that doesn't add anything to the world or even to your life . Maybe you get happy to do what was already done . But i don't get satisfied with that and want to have freedom to express my dissatisfaction and keep searching without a narrow minded asshole protesting because my position on this world isn't convenient to him/her and its pathetic sterile life with 'acceptable works" being produced .
Other thing i want to talk is about my book and the way it was written. Every one knows because i posted it already on my blog that i wrote this in English because i want it to be read by everyone . Trust me , it is a pleasure to me when i write and communicate in English. Really . It completely spoilt me because now when i write poetry in my own language i feel totally incomplete as something was missing. I love to express myself as i am doing now .
But here comes the others ( inferno ) . The defenders of the language . Always from USA and England ( the ones that read my book and are fron Germany , Holland , Spain , Austria , Italy, Brazil.... dodn't complain about language , and some Americans and Englishs too ). Really , how can such nice people have a such horrible language ? In England after a while , the only ones i accepted to have contact was the Englishes, the original ones , not the immigrants or their descendants. The Englishes were that most sympathetic , polite , honest , and nicer people i have met in my entire life . I never get tired to say this because it is true and for all the thousands of times they were kind with me saving my life or only making my day . The Americans were the best friend I made in Europe . Maybe because people really hates Americans in Europe they are very nice with the few ones that don't show any prejudice against then. It was my case .... i will never forget the Americans i met out there because they were very friendly people i could trust. We helped each other always that was necessary. Not talking about the 20Th century North American cultural production in all the areas that ( and i am not saying it only for saying ) really saved my life , my brain , my ethic and moral values , my faith in God . Everything good i have inside me has a foot in the American culture somehow. But people.... come on !!! Do you really need to bitch on me giving a such hard time because of the way i wrote this book ? And it because i showed it for a bit more of half dozen of people and wasn't even published yet. I mean... isn't enough i speak and write on your language trying to be nice and social.... do i have to think like you too ? Do i have to destroy all the structure in my brain and adopt yours ? Aren't you being too harsh ? And people say it isn't correct English language. What is correct English language ? It doesn't exist. A language that needs so much phrasal verbs , idioms , slang's and have no real rules for prepositions can't be right. A language that uses resources as "get, got , do , did...." can't be considered as a correct language . It changes everyday and begs for improvisation all the time because of the lack of a real structure . And I am not even talking about the huge gap created by the accents , what doesn't happen with most part of the occidental languages. So should i stop to think on my own language too. Isn't enough i try to write in a way that people around the world can understand ? Do you really need to tell me that my text isn't correct and conventional . I have two examples :
One : Sure I am not comparing my self , but i even should because would be fun . But if English was a language with such good structure Shakespeare wouldn't need to create so much new words for try to express himself . And i bet that if he was alive now and wrote a book with lots of new words as he did people would bitch on him much more than what happened on his time . Two : Is my text hard to read ? Hard to understand what i mean sometimes ? It makes me remember the last week on Facebook, Jasmine , and i think later Momo Luna sent me a post where i should list my 15 favorite albums of all times. On my list , at least 10 of then were albums very hard for me to listening on the first 5 times . Were albums that i bought and hated first even regretting for have spent money with that. I didn't like , didn't understand what was happening , didn't follow the musics ... these albums years later , 10 , 15 years later are the 15 top favorite of a collection where I have more than 500 albums considered favorites, i loved to have made that list of 15 favorites and spent the entire last week listeneing then again . The same with many of my favorite movies , books and art pieces, they are new languages, it isn't easy to get at first .
I am sorry if you spent the entire life consuming jelly, Mcdonalds, MTV hits and All Disney movies. Let me tell you one thing: Real forms of expressions don't have label , aren't easy to digest, and aren't easy for the creator to talk about or explain . It happens . If you have contact with my production, welcome to a world were things aren't logic , easy and acceptable . I am not going to chew you food and put it gently in your belly . Forget about . It has an entire industry of billions of dollars doing this for you, wanting to please you. Isn't necessary to demand it from me . My book is hard to read , is hard to digest for many reasons , and i am proud of that .
What do you expect about a book that talks about a guy the lives in a global world "full of tolerance and human rights" being excluded of it ? No , sorry , i didn't write a romantic comedy . I believe Hollywood won't buy it.
So people . Take easy . If it is so hard to deal with me I am sorry , I didn't mean to be a such pain in the ass only for say what I think on Internet. For paint what i can ( not what i want because i have no control of what happens in my studio, and i am not saying that for looking cool ) . For write what i thing and feel. It has been hard enough to me for all these years , all this life having to deal with my head... image with people "shooting" against me because of what i post on Internet, on my own blogs.... It so ironic and unfair . My grandfather left Europe because Hitler was after him. My father was arrested by the local dictators . And now i can't say what i think on my own blog . The difference is that now nobody can put the blame on any government. Now the dictatorship comes from people . The ones that have their own blogs and post what they feel like to do and say ... this people now comes to tell me to shut up and change my way to think . Don't you think you are too narrow minded and unfair values telling people what is right or wrong to think ? Don't you think you are behaving as people that begs for do not have freedom . Calling me names and criticizing my production as have happened gives reason to your own governments and big companys to start to control the press as have happened in all the called "Occidental free world" . It isn't argument anymore... it is violence and Nazism. Remember , Nazism isn't about race or nationality . It is about standards, the psture you take about the ones that are diferent.
Ok, after to spend the evening drinking lots of green tea and geting high with cafeine, maybe I can post this at 9:50 pm.
Please ... you don't need to get angry or ofended with all i wrote . It is only a cucaracha's rant. Nobody gives a shit for what we think anyway .
Don't worry , tomorrow you are going to meet lots of me and ignore our existence while we do all the dishes , work on the garden , clean the office and say : "Oh , sorry Sir, thank Sir . excuse me Sir , Yes Sir......have a nice day Sir .
I am so happy for living in a Global Multcultural United World with so many tolerance for all the diferences .
Have a nice day everyone . And a wonderful weekend !!!
OK, first of all: I love to rant . And what I say one day so strongly isn't rare to do not take so seriously on the next day or do not even believe on that . Or believe even more going to the last consequences . There is no logic and this is the way my brain works . If your Anglo-Saxon way to see the world sometimes doesn't match with mine... don't worry , it isn't an scandal... you don't need to lose nights thinking about this and hating me . It is natural and exists a huge world out there where people thinks in a very different way ( not wrong or right , better or worse ) than the way you learn at the school... don't take so seriously, it is just another person's opinion. All the time I post what I am thinking at the moment it causes huge polemic. Why ? Last week had an explosion of people posting hateful opinions about me on Tumblr because a text I posted here . It made me lose followers on Blogspot , Tumblr and Posterous . hahah!! I had to delete it in all the blogs because was tired to answer and be cursed . Even on Wordpress where I never receive any comments , I received few ones complaining about in less than 2 hours . What is Funny is that the ones that complain , curse me , stop to follow my blogs, and posted horrible things about me on Tumblr last week aren't Neo-Nazis , Fanatic Muslims , Buddhist Monks , Christians Ministers , K.K.K., South American Guerrilheiros, ..... no ... are the ones that preach about tolerance and democracy , the ones that believe tolerance must to be the foundation of the society. The ones that are always the first to talk about freedom of speech and thoughts. Those are the ones that throw rocks on me all the time I open my mouth . This is a blog !! If I can't rant on my own blog where am I going to do that ? I'm front of my aquarium to my fishes drinking green tea . I mean... my country came out from dictatorship and still today the politics on the power use sentences as : "there is too much freedom of press, people are abusing " . Yesterday the president made an long speech complaing that people aren't respecting his candidates for this election and the we should shut up. If I can't come to a blog and say what I think... come on !! People on Internet behave as Third World dictators . Every body gets offended because what I say isn't " acceptable " . It is what I said on the last post when people got offended and I had to delete . It is very convenient to tell me to shut up. Yes , this is what they want . People from poor countries must to have any real opinion about nothing because it isn't acceptable . People like me can't express themselves , we should go to the factories and deny our existences producing cheap products to be consumed in the other countries . People like me can't have voice , face ... we must to hide ourselves for the rest of our lives in a way that is more convenient for the citizens of the First World countries. Who wants to remember we exists, right ? If people from my origins produce art , must to be something appropriate to be consumed as an exotic inoffensive thing by the ones in Manhattan , London , Berlin.... I mean... We must to produce something that makes the guy when he goes to the gallery look and feel good with himself saying : "Oh , this is interesting, different , I support his cause , I am a nice open minded sofisticated liberal person , now I can go home in peace and drink a good wine before to sleep with peace of mind because I saw a fucking artists fron a Thrid World country and supported it, i am so special smart and good" . That is the reason i dislike when people refer to me as "Brazilian artist " because following this labels has all the weight of the expectation that i have to do something "different" and nice ... something like a tropical circus monkey , a Carmen Miranda or a stereotype of contemporary art that is what is well accepted today's market . Freedom never comes after the "Brazilian artist" label. This is for sure . But i would be very unfair if i put all the blame on the place I came from. No . It happens with everyone in everywhere today more than ever. The world never was so closed to different opinions and ideas as it has been today .
I was thinking this afternoon how ridiculous have been the 'rockers' for the last decade . You see lots of guys making that proud big headed expressions , putting their noses up and saying : "I am a rocker " " I am a rock star " " I make rock'n'roll" . It is so ridiculous . I never trust an artist that can talk so sure about its work. If you see the bands of the history that made History and changed aesthetic values for real... they on interviews never say " I make rock'n'roll". I remember the few real bands I saw in activity , they were never able to explain their own sounds. They real ones are like that . Art is like that . I never trust on people the can talk about their production so sure of it . It means they aren't really creating, investigating , only reproducing values or formulas that already exist . The biggest artists i saw in my life when asked about their works used to make a pretty dumb face because didn't know how to answer that . What i posted last week was a bit about that ... and i receive a waterfall of rage on my head , still today, one week later i have received very impolite comments about. Sorry if what i say makes you feel that your mask falls and you get angry. But people that is so sure of what is art and what is producing don't have too much to offer . People that are so sure about themselves only reproduces what was already made . It is easy to be sure that way. I am sure when i am making pasta .. it is a recipe that exists for generations. But i am not sure when i am painting or writing or living . Because i do it my way . and my way is brand new, there is no recipe or really concepts to guide me . And if you call this "intellectual talk " as i was accused more than one time before . I am sorry for you. because if you aren't concerned about the nature of what you produce it means you are producing very shallow stuff that doesn't add anything to the world or even to your life . Maybe you get happy to do what was already done . But i don't get satisfied with that and want to have freedom to express my dissatisfaction and keep searching without a narrow minded asshole protesting because my position on this world isn't convenient to him/her and its pathetic sterile life with 'acceptable works" being produced .
Other thing i want to talk is about my book and the way it was written. Every one knows because i posted it already on my blog that i wrote this in English because i want it to be read by everyone . Trust me , it is a pleasure to me when i write and communicate in English. Really . It completely spoilt me because now when i write poetry in my own language i feel totally incomplete as something was missing. I love to express myself as i am doing now .
But here comes the others ( inferno ) . The defenders of the language . Always from USA and England ( the ones that read my book and are fron Germany , Holland , Spain , Austria , Italy, Brazil.... dodn't complain about language , and some Americans and Englishs too ). Really , how can such nice people have a such horrible language ? In England after a while , the only ones i accepted to have contact was the Englishes, the original ones , not the immigrants or their descendants. The Englishes were that most sympathetic , polite , honest , and nicer people i have met in my entire life . I never get tired to say this because it is true and for all the thousands of times they were kind with me saving my life or only making my day . The Americans were the best friend I made in Europe . Maybe because people really hates Americans in Europe they are very nice with the few ones that don't show any prejudice against then. It was my case .... i will never forget the Americans i met out there because they were very friendly people i could trust. We helped each other always that was necessary. Not talking about the 20Th century North American cultural production in all the areas that ( and i am not saying it only for saying ) really saved my life , my brain , my ethic and moral values , my faith in God . Everything good i have inside me has a foot in the American culture somehow. But people.... come on !!! Do you really need to bitch on me giving a such hard time because of the way i wrote this book ? And it because i showed it for a bit more of half dozen of people and wasn't even published yet. I mean... isn't enough i speak and write on your language trying to be nice and social.... do i have to think like you too ? Do i have to destroy all the structure in my brain and adopt yours ? Aren't you being too harsh ? And people say it isn't correct English language. What is correct English language ? It doesn't exist. A language that needs so much phrasal verbs , idioms , slang's and have no real rules for prepositions can't be right. A language that uses resources as "get, got , do , did...." can't be considered as a correct language . It changes everyday and begs for improvisation all the time because of the lack of a real structure . And I am not even talking about the huge gap created by the accents , what doesn't happen with most part of the occidental languages. So should i stop to think on my own language too. Isn't enough i try to write in a way that people around the world can understand ? Do you really need to tell me that my text isn't correct and conventional . I have two examples :
One : Sure I am not comparing my self , but i even should because would be fun . But if English was a language with such good structure Shakespeare wouldn't need to create so much new words for try to express himself . And i bet that if he was alive now and wrote a book with lots of new words as he did people would bitch on him much more than what happened on his time . Two : Is my text hard to read ? Hard to understand what i mean sometimes ? It makes me remember the last week on Facebook, Jasmine , and i think later Momo Luna sent me a post where i should list my 15 favorite albums of all times. On my list , at least 10 of then were albums very hard for me to listening on the first 5 times . Were albums that i bought and hated first even regretting for have spent money with that. I didn't like , didn't understand what was happening , didn't follow the musics ... these albums years later , 10 , 15 years later are the 15 top favorite of a collection where I have more than 500 albums considered favorites, i loved to have made that list of 15 favorites and spent the entire last week listeneing then again . The same with many of my favorite movies , books and art pieces, they are new languages, it isn't easy to get at first .
I am sorry if you spent the entire life consuming jelly, Mcdonalds, MTV hits and All Disney movies. Let me tell you one thing: Real forms of expressions don't have label , aren't easy to digest, and aren't easy for the creator to talk about or explain . It happens . If you have contact with my production, welcome to a world were things aren't logic , easy and acceptable . I am not going to chew you food and put it gently in your belly . Forget about . It has an entire industry of billions of dollars doing this for you, wanting to please you. Isn't necessary to demand it from me . My book is hard to read , is hard to digest for many reasons , and i am proud of that .
What do you expect about a book that talks about a guy the lives in a global world "full of tolerance and human rights" being excluded of it ? No , sorry , i didn't write a romantic comedy . I believe Hollywood won't buy it.
So people . Take easy . If it is so hard to deal with me I am sorry , I didn't mean to be a such pain in the ass only for say what I think on Internet. For paint what i can ( not what i want because i have no control of what happens in my studio, and i am not saying that for looking cool ) . For write what i thing and feel. It has been hard enough to me for all these years , all this life having to deal with my head... image with people "shooting" against me because of what i post on Internet, on my own blogs.... It so ironic and unfair . My grandfather left Europe because Hitler was after him. My father was arrested by the local dictators . And now i can't say what i think on my own blog . The difference is that now nobody can put the blame on any government. Now the dictatorship comes from people . The ones that have their own blogs and post what they feel like to do and say ... this people now comes to tell me to shut up and change my way to think . Don't you think you are too narrow minded and unfair values telling people what is right or wrong to think ? Don't you think you are behaving as people that begs for do not have freedom . Calling me names and criticizing my production as have happened gives reason to your own governments and big companys to start to control the press as have happened in all the called "Occidental free world" . It isn't argument anymore... it is violence and Nazism. Remember , Nazism isn't about race or nationality . It is about standards, the psture you take about the ones that are diferent.
Ok, after to spend the evening drinking lots of green tea and geting high with cafeine, maybe I can post this at 9:50 pm.
Please ... you don't need to get angry or ofended with all i wrote . It is only a cucaracha's rant. Nobody gives a shit for what we think anyway .
Don't worry , tomorrow you are going to meet lots of me and ignore our existence while we do all the dishes , work on the garden , clean the office and say : "Oh , sorry Sir, thank Sir . excuse me Sir , Yes Sir......have a nice day Sir .
I am so happy for living in a Global Multcultural United World with so many tolerance for all the diferences .
Have a nice day everyone . And a wonderful weekend !!!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
the back cover and the cover of my new book.
the image with lots of flags is going to be the back cover, only this was the title of the book and my name written.
The flower one is going to by the cover , clean and any word.
I am not sure Yet but is pretty much this.
I WANT TO TO GIVE A BIG "THANK YOU" TO WILLIAM MICHAELIAN FOR HAVE HELPED ME YESTERDAY WITH ON OF MY CHAPTERS .
AND TO THE LOVELY SANDY GUNDERSON FOR HAVE INTRODUCED TO THE IMAGES OF THE GERMAN KIDS . you are a bless, Sandy !!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
so rare
so rare
by Caio Fernandes 2010
i love winter so much and today is so grey and cold!!!
what a precious moment!
my feet are frizing and the brown leafs on the floor are wet.
all my senses turn into a snail and my mushroon's eyes get fresh under the wispers of the low colors.
ahhh.. this is so rare for me ,
soon the sun will come again and i will have to try to shoot it down again in rage and madness.
but now i am living the life a human being deserves .
so rare .
by Caio Fernandes 2010
i love winter so much and today is so grey and cold!!!
what a precious moment!
my feet are frizing and the brown leafs on the floor are wet.
all my senses turn into a snail and my mushroon's eyes get fresh under the wispers of the low colors.
ahhh.. this is so rare for me ,
soon the sun will come again and i will have to try to shoot it down again in rage and madness.
but now i am living the life a human being deserves .
so rare .
Monday, August 2, 2010
let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky .
by Caio Fernandes 2010
cold... good for tea and internal works with dreams, aquariums and cats over a dark surface.
the taste is purple on my lips.
i swallow it and feel silk, cotton....linen.... floating distant and clear.
He extends His Word once again for my heart.
my heart lies, liar liar liar, compulsive liar.
i have to fill it with light.
the green under the moviments of the cold weather.
the 2 sides blade of my chest that opens new paths beyond the air.
the golden vibrations of a good friend's hair shining in my body and smile now.
sundely NOW became so precious , by pure acident.
i don't care if time, times , timeless are there somewhere.
let the dogs run till get exausted at the street.
let the cats sleep upon the aquariuns lamp because of the heat.
let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky.
i am fine, thank you for asking .
cold... good for tea and internal works with dreams, aquariums and cats over a dark surface.
the taste is purple on my lips.
i swallow it and feel silk, cotton....linen.... floating distant and clear.
He extends His Word once again for my heart.
my heart lies, liar liar liar, compulsive liar.
i have to fill it with light.
the green under the moviments of the cold weather.
the 2 sides blade of my chest that opens new paths beyond the air.
the golden vibrations of a good friend's hair shining in my body and smile now.
sundely NOW became so precious , by pure acident.
i don't care if time, times , timeless are there somewhere.
let the dogs run till get exausted at the street.
let the cats sleep upon the aquariuns lamp because of the heat.
let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky.
i am fine, thank you for asking .
Thursday, July 29, 2010
what a surprise.
the texture of implosions by reds under leafs is a she.
passed her hand on my leg and i got so quiet that thought i had swallowed all the space around.
sundely the garden, so tiny and blind runs its nature towards my lips as an underground train was hiting my face.
what a surprise.
i didn't intend but i had to do her there or she would think and say bad of me.
was that a rape?
well... all the time a woman crosses her legs in front of my eyes I feel raped alread.
so, yes , it was.
i didn't intend , she forced me.
all the sounds that come fron the street doesn't touch my body and soul.
what happened made me remember the day i started a vacum on the floor.... all so heavy as hell grabed my muscles.
but i floted this time do not paying atenttion if she was smiling.
she only walked... went to her job, few nice words that meant nothing.
lunch time is over.
hope she at least tells to her friends. her roomate is a hot ballet dancer and i know i am good.
am i ? i don't know, i am the victim here.
passed her hand on my leg and i got so quiet that thought i had swallowed all the space around.
sundely the garden, so tiny and blind runs its nature towards my lips as an underground train was hiting my face.
what a surprise.
i didn't intend but i had to do her there or she would think and say bad of me.
was that a rape?
well... all the time a woman crosses her legs in front of my eyes I feel raped alread.
so, yes , it was.
i didn't intend , she forced me.
all the sounds that come fron the street doesn't touch my body and soul.
what happened made me remember the day i started a vacum on the floor.... all so heavy as hell grabed my muscles.
but i floted this time do not paying atenttion if she was smiling.
she only walked... went to her job, few nice words that meant nothing.
lunch time is over.
hope she at least tells to her friends. her roomate is a hot ballet dancer and i know i am good.
am i ? i don't know, i am the victim here.
under-tastes
By Caio Fernandes
twisting tastes that live into clear sweetiness as a dancer on the air of the night.
i watch: dance taste , dance my dear... dance only for me.
channels of under-tastes are opening as i was digging a rock, but nothing is hard.
easy.
soft
and then i remember that woman that had tatoos of 4 tiny berrys on the place of the eyebrows.
i could lick that too.
i think this under-tastes are fruits of my searchs into the air... or i couldn't explaing where it came fron.
well... i can't anyway.
twisting tastes that live into clear sweetiness as a dancer on the air of the night.
i watch: dance taste , dance my dear... dance only for me.
channels of under-tastes are opening as i was digging a rock, but nothing is hard.
easy.
soft
and then i remember that woman that had tatoos of 4 tiny berrys on the place of the eyebrows.
i could lick that too.
i think this under-tastes are fruits of my searchs into the air... or i couldn't explaing where it came fron.
well... i can't anyway.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Apples
Apples
by Caio Fernandes.
Apples ...
red compact on the table of dark wood extends veils of feminine vibe throughout space.
I smell hidden mountains inside the ranges of quiet breathing.
could handle life with the tips of five fingers and stand in the air in a dark room.
and isn't this what I do every day?
inhale.
bite.
ingest.
feel.
and exhale ...
Apples ....
by Caio Fernandes.
Apples ...
red compact on the table of dark wood extends veils of feminine vibe throughout space.
I smell hidden mountains inside the ranges of quiet breathing.
could handle life with the tips of five fingers and stand in the air in a dark room.
and isn't this what I do every day?
inhale.
bite.
ingest.
feel.
and exhale ...
Apples ....
POND
Pond
by Caio Fernandes 2010.
We never asked what kind of place it is.
What kind of place is this?
They cut all the trees and put nothing...replace with nothing.
We never asked what kind of place it is.
We were forgoten people and wanted to ride lost in a forgoten area.
.done.
Pond.
Beyond all the moss green emptiness under clouded sky and drizzle:
beyond all the grey silence:
Pond.
pond.
Beyond the memory of logic and the senses:
Pond.
pond.
by Caio Fernandes 2010.
We never asked what kind of place it is.
What kind of place is this?
They cut all the trees and put nothing...replace with nothing.
We never asked what kind of place it is.
We were forgoten people and wanted to ride lost in a forgoten area.
.done.
Pond.
Beyond all the moss green emptiness under clouded sky and drizzle:
beyond all the grey silence:
Pond.
pond.
Beyond the memory of logic and the senses:
Pond.
pond.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
The real Lost . by Caio Fernandes
The real Lost
by Caio Fernandes.
There was me, 2001...Belen, Para... heart of Amazon jungle. A big City as a matter of fact. The local University had offered me a award for 3 paintings, i didn't have money as a flight ticket to Amazon is almost as expensive as to New York so my intention was to send a notice saying: Thank you very much, i apreciate a lot, i can't appear for the Cerimony send the check to my bank acount. But my uncle Milton had saved miles enough and when he knew about that ( i really don't remember how he knew about ) offered me the tickets back and for, not just that, he works with industrial insurance and had there a client, a very rich man that would be happy for recieving me in his house. It gets hard to say no as i had never crossed the country and went to Amazon in my life.
I love to travel in airplanes so i won't complain about the long flight, but take a look on map and you will have an idea of how many hours i spent sat on that chair, fron Sao Paulo to Brasilia to Belen.
What can i say ? I hated the city. First the house of this my uncle's client, the man, yes, did everything for make me feel confortable and gave me a good suite ... but he and his family hated Paulistas ( whom is natural fron Sao Paulo ) what is very common when i travel to Brasil, they call us imperialists, american friends or "americanizados", capitalists ( and worse things ), sometimes even "gringos"!! Well... they hate us and that is the reason i don't travel to any place of this country anymore not even for free.
Then the city by itself. I arrived in a sunday afternoon, the Cerimony of the award would be only at friday, in my mind i would have a whole week to explore the place, making some comercial contacts, things like that. This host of mine had a son of my age living with him ( 25 years old ) and it seens that he felt that should show me some local atractions and at monday night "i had to" prove the best Tacaca of the world. So he let me to this restaurant that looked like a public bathroom and ordered 2 portions of Tacaca. I had no idea what Tacaca is but i didn't care, i would prove and make a happy face. Didn't see bad at all, is a yellow thin soup with 3 small shrimps floting and a herb that they say gives you a funny feeling on your tongue, but i didn't feel anything and didn't understand why they like that so much as tasted like nothing. The guy started to get revolted, told me that had showed this place to an American client and at the end asked to this poor gringo: "so, isn't this much better than that stupid McDonalds" ? And the american guy answered: "no , i prefer McDonalds". Hahahah!! And i totaly agree , even McDonalds is better than that.. but this host of mine got really angry with the answer and then asked me :" and what about you Caio? do you prefer Tacaca or McDonalds"? - "ahh, Tacaca is the best thing i have ever proved, no argue about that"!!hahah! And he got happy, satisfied as a baby.
I didn't think so funny at the next day, after to have spent the morning visiting some "clients" showing my works, catalogs, portfolios, and geting nothing, so i decided to visit the down town and see the historical-turistic points. There has a harbor to a large river of mudy water with a popular open-air market named "Ver-o-Peso", great turistic atraction of then. That is when my laughs finished. I saw the way they sell the shrimps i had aten the night before. They make piles on the extremely durty floor of fishies and shrimps, i saw a large rat fighting with a vulture for taking a rotten fish's head. Naked drunk indian homeless running around and peeing everywhere. On the part of the harbor where the boats deliver the fishs a montain of garbage that is hard to explain with words. Everything smelling like shit under the heat of the mercyless sun. People with long knifes staring at me. That was when i had a crises where i didn't know if i started to cry or to puke. But i behaved myself and holded on.
Then i got to see their Cathedral where an art curator was suposed to meet me, one block fron this market on a hill. On the way i saw wonderful colonial houses but when i got closer to pay attention on the detais of the ornaments i realised it had girls of 8 , 10 , 12 years old asking me to get into with then for few money. What?!! It can't be real!! Maybe i am not understanding.
The curator was a very nice woman that first tried to flirt with me, but later started to think that i was gay and even introduced me to a local gay artist, hahah! She showed me all the art pieces of the Cathedral and told me the history behind it all. Was a nice moment. After this we crossed the street and went to an art institution in a pretty big building on a lovely place with many huge health tropical trees where she was preparing an exhibition of a German artists that was there being so rude treating her and all the local staff as slaves that i argued with him and we almost fighted. The securitys had to put us apart.
So i left the place hating "gringos", the locals , myself and everybody else, but had nowhere to go only back to that harbor and feel sick again.
There i discovered that at 6:30 a boat for turists used to let then at the midle of the river because they say the view of the sunset is fantastic fron there. It seems to be the biggest turistic atraction and i wanted to do something stupid, safe, ridiculous... and in my mind i was a turist, so should get into these turistic traps, but the price was to high. This is when i tried to be smart.
I realised that on this harbor have boats that work as bus leting people fron Belen to small vilages in the middle of the forest where there is no access by land.
It was very cheap and i thought i would see the marvelous sunset fron the middle of the river paying 20 times less than suckers turists that payed 10 bucks for a can of coke !!hahah!! Losers!!
I asked for informations and found a boat that would cross the river. It would depart soon so my plan was to leave that market before to be stabed, spend 1 hour and half going to some vilage, come back and see the sunset.
On the line for geting into the boat two mans in front of me were chating :
- "So i had to come back fron Rio de Janeiro because i killed too many people there and now the police is looking for me"
- Right, i know this very well, it has been 2 years i came back too but i feel like to go to Espirito Santo now, people is making money there and you can rape the girls of the indian tribes because nothing happens to you. They are only indians, the police doesn't care".
I couldn't leave the line because had iron gates around me so i could only walk towards the boat, and because they realised i was listen and i didn't want to look like a chicken running away. Stupid macho's proud.
On the boat i saw an old lady reading The Bible and didn't think twice , i sat by her side, then a news paper's man started to scream: "man rapes his sons and daughters, kill his wife and puts fire on the house with everyone inside when the gas exploded and all the neighbors died, you can't lose that!!" he repited this several times.
The boat crossed the large river and gets into a narrow little river into the forest. The travel was silent and i started to relax a bit apreciating the view of trees and sometimes passing in front of some isolated houses where familys lived distant of the standarts of life that i knew so far... very impressive and pretty, but i was still tense as i didn't know where exactaly i was going to, what kind of things i would find on the way. If Belen , the capital was like that...imagine the rest...
Two hours later the boat hadn't stop yet and my plans of geting down to take another one to Belen and see the stupidy sunset were ruined. I asked to the people if it would stop soon and they said that in 15 minutes the first stop would be in a vilage where i could wait for the next boat.
Yes it happened, it was a pier of concrete in the middle of nowhere and i got down... all empty. the place had only some boat garages but nobody working.. i started to walk and saw it had a main ( the only one ) street paralell the river and a tiny bar. So i went there for informations about the boat i should take back.
Inside it the bartender didn't even looked at me ignoring my presence as i had ofended him before or something. Sat on a corner had two whores, one should have 50 or 60 years old , the other 12 or less. I ordered a beer , sat and asked about my boat trying to be polite as i was speaking with the King of Denmark. The man told me that in 20 minutes would pass and it was diferent of the one i took, much faster and confortable. Ok, i had no choice , so i looked to the tv on the ceiling where i could watch soup opera and pretending everything was fine.
The bar was very small, had no tables , only the place where the man served the drinks, a block of cement, with 3 pieces of tree trunks as seat in front and the 2 iron chairs the whores where using, A door at the corner behind the block of cement where i saw had a toilet.
Sundely i start to listen an engine. My boat?!!Great, so i went to the door fron where i could see the river, but nothing. It is when i realised the sound was coming fron sky and saw a small airplane of one helix geting closer to land..... Where? Where is that plane going to land? Oh my ... no... it is going to land on this treet!!! The street was pure earth with stones of big sizes and holes everywhere...
Here comes the airplane...trackblaht boom, pow treivfkbvwopopr splash.... falling into all the holes and hiting all the stones in the way passing in front of me, riding all the street and stoping at the other extreme. Turning around with the helix pointed to the street and finaly parking. A little kid came fron the forest with a huge knife that looked like a sword and a rope. Fron the air plane comes a big man with a pistol on his belt , golden chains on his neck and wrists, dark glasses ... you can imagine the type. He came to the bar and i got inside fastly because didn't want that he realised i was observing him.
Working on my glass of bier i felt when he came into.. i didn't move, the man didn't show that had noticed my presence but stops only few centimetres fron me , the bartender doesn't say nothing only shakes his head. This man extends his hand and drops 3 tiny golden rocks, like grains, on the bartender's hand. Takes a shot of something some drink i have no idea what it is, takes the 12 years old girl and gets into the toilet. I heard the noises of then fucking, what was for 1 or 2 minutes. Then he comes out and go back to the air plane.
I had to see it , so went to the bar's door to watch... i was really curious of how that crapy machine would arrise on those horrible conditions.
So there was the airplane , this time tied by the tail to a tree with the rope the kid that had come out fron the forest broght with him. And there was the kid holding that knife almost his size. The pilot got inside the cabin, turned on the engine and started to accelerate forcing but the airplane didn't move so much because was tied, only the movements the tree allowed to do... smoke going to everywhere... when the man screamed: CUT!! the kid used the knife to cut the rope... and the airplane like a bullet crossed the street. When i thought it would hit the trees at the other side the plane arrises in a impossible impossible impossible ( i should repeat the word impossible hundreds of times ) angle of almost 80 degrees. Flying over the trees only touching a bit the top of it.
Still speechless i realised the kid had vanished into the forest as a ghost and at the same time i hear another engine: my boat! I runned away to the pier as was afraid to lose it. It was a really confortable speed boat with lots of seats. It had place to 100 people but there was only a couple of american turists coming fron i don't know where.
I sat on the back seats alone and quiet still thinking about that airplane stuff.
Looking through the window how the boat cuts the water and the jungle smooth and fast, the many rivers looked like avenues where sometimes other boats came fron diferent directions but obeying the same laws of traffic we have on the streets.
The sun was seting, the colors changing. It was when the boat crossed an area where many rivers met in total diferent and unlogical directions that i saw something that goes beyond the concept of sunset... all the sky , forest and waters geting orange and golden, then fastly purple, blue.. an atmosthere where i could breath the colors and touch it as bilions of birds passing through my body and all the matter i could see... the particles of air shined in milions of colors and i couldn't know anymore if i was sat on a chair, swiming, flying.. if wasn't by the noise of the engine and movements of the boat i could swear it happened an acident, i had died and didn't realise. Sundely The Milk Way was exploding colorful smiles around me and i was so tiny and infinite as one more particule of light...
When the boat arrived to Belen it was dark, i was very afraid of Belen's down town after dark, i am fron Sao Paulo, and had survived horrible things there, any other place of the world could scare me anymore... but Belen was scaring me.
Fastly i tried to find a bus that could take me to the house where i was hosted. It was all ok till a guy, a teenager, on the bus stop starts to chat with me and making me questions that really takes me fron serious. After to have heard my accent and realised i am a typical Sao Paulo's man, the questions started to get even dumber. One thing i never understand when i travel to Brasil is their obssession for want to know what strangers think about the local women: "are you fron out of here? What do you think about the women fron here? What do you think about Brazilian women?" they always ask this . I can't deal with this , i never did , so i always answer:" Why? Do you want to sell me you sister? Maybe you mother? If i get the both do i have a discount?" I must to say , they don't like this answer at all, i alread had several problems because of that, but it is another story, i just can't help myself.
That night i went to the house safe. The following days were a crap, the Cerimony would be friday night , but friday morning i packed up everything and went to airport to trade my ticket flight for the next one to Sao Paulo. Fuck. Send me the check by mail, send the money to my bank account, don't send nothing, whatever. Do what you want, i am leaving.
At the airport the last kid after milions that week got closer with that "smart" face trying to send me brasilian nuts or chocolate... i didn't have any patience and was pretty rude. The kid said: "Let me guess, you are fron Sao Paulo, aren't you?" We both started to laugh and i asked for appoligies. This was my last conversation on that city.
Before to take my flight i saw the pilot of mine with a hot blonde that seemed to be his girlfriend. She took the flight as well, and while the pilot was working in his cabin i did her in the bathroon. I though i was being very smart, cool, a unresistable sexy Don Ruan , but after me she went to the bathroon with more 3 guys. I hate to remember of this trip.
But it isn't over. Landing in SP, at the airport i saw a girl waving to me, it was my ex-girlsfriend's best friend. She said that had to drop her brother there because he was traveling to somewhere, Florianopolis i think, and knew that i would be arriving at the same time so decided to give me a ride as she knew i don't have a car or a girlfriend to take me home. She delivers me a book and says it is a gift.
- "How to paint oil portraits"? It was a book writen by some american semi profissional housewife with Dutch name.
- "Yes, Caio...i thought you would enjoy as now you are a profissional painter and are recieving awards, maybe it is a good idea to learn how to paint well. I've seen your paintings, it is going to help you".
- "You know , i am recieving awards maybe , maybe because my works aren't a total crap".
- "sure..." and she smiles as i was a little kid "... you are a promisse".
I hate to remember of this trip.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
i wrote the text this morning before to go out and do my things. I only woke up feeling like to tell this story as sinse i started the Mein Welt blog i felt like to post about.
forgive me all the gramatical mistakes and if you didn't understand any part , i am sorry , i fix later.
done , i am posting this story. i feel free now.
by Caio Fernandes.
There was me, 2001...Belen, Para... heart of Amazon jungle. A big City as a matter of fact. The local University had offered me a award for 3 paintings, i didn't have money as a flight ticket to Amazon is almost as expensive as to New York so my intention was to send a notice saying: Thank you very much, i apreciate a lot, i can't appear for the Cerimony send the check to my bank acount. But my uncle Milton had saved miles enough and when he knew about that ( i really don't remember how he knew about ) offered me the tickets back and for, not just that, he works with industrial insurance and had there a client, a very rich man that would be happy for recieving me in his house. It gets hard to say no as i had never crossed the country and went to Amazon in my life.
I love to travel in airplanes so i won't complain about the long flight, but take a look on map and you will have an idea of how many hours i spent sat on that chair, fron Sao Paulo to Brasilia to Belen.
What can i say ? I hated the city. First the house of this my uncle's client, the man, yes, did everything for make me feel confortable and gave me a good suite ... but he and his family hated Paulistas ( whom is natural fron Sao Paulo ) what is very common when i travel to Brasil, they call us imperialists, american friends or "americanizados", capitalists ( and worse things ), sometimes even "gringos"!! Well... they hate us and that is the reason i don't travel to any place of this country anymore not even for free.
Then the city by itself. I arrived in a sunday afternoon, the Cerimony of the award would be only at friday, in my mind i would have a whole week to explore the place, making some comercial contacts, things like that. This host of mine had a son of my age living with him ( 25 years old ) and it seens that he felt that should show me some local atractions and at monday night "i had to" prove the best Tacaca of the world. So he let me to this restaurant that looked like a public bathroom and ordered 2 portions of Tacaca. I had no idea what Tacaca is but i didn't care, i would prove and make a happy face. Didn't see bad at all, is a yellow thin soup with 3 small shrimps floting and a herb that they say gives you a funny feeling on your tongue, but i didn't feel anything and didn't understand why they like that so much as tasted like nothing. The guy started to get revolted, told me that had showed this place to an American client and at the end asked to this poor gringo: "so, isn't this much better than that stupid McDonalds" ? And the american guy answered: "no , i prefer McDonalds". Hahahah!! And i totaly agree , even McDonalds is better than that.. but this host of mine got really angry with the answer and then asked me :" and what about you Caio? do you prefer Tacaca or McDonalds"? - "ahh, Tacaca is the best thing i have ever proved, no argue about that"!!hahah! And he got happy, satisfied as a baby.
I didn't think so funny at the next day, after to have spent the morning visiting some "clients" showing my works, catalogs, portfolios, and geting nothing, so i decided to visit the down town and see the historical-turistic points. There has a harbor to a large river of mudy water with a popular open-air market named "Ver-o-Peso", great turistic atraction of then. That is when my laughs finished. I saw the way they sell the shrimps i had aten the night before. They make piles on the extremely durty floor of fishies and shrimps, i saw a large rat fighting with a vulture for taking a rotten fish's head. Naked drunk indian homeless running around and peeing everywhere. On the part of the harbor where the boats deliver the fishs a montain of garbage that is hard to explain with words. Everything smelling like shit under the heat of the mercyless sun. People with long knifes staring at me. That was when i had a crises where i didn't know if i started to cry or to puke. But i behaved myself and holded on.
Then i got to see their Cathedral where an art curator was suposed to meet me, one block fron this market on a hill. On the way i saw wonderful colonial houses but when i got closer to pay attention on the detais of the ornaments i realised it had girls of 8 , 10 , 12 years old asking me to get into with then for few money. What?!! It can't be real!! Maybe i am not understanding.
The curator was a very nice woman that first tried to flirt with me, but later started to think that i was gay and even introduced me to a local gay artist, hahah! She showed me all the art pieces of the Cathedral and told me the history behind it all. Was a nice moment. After this we crossed the street and went to an art institution in a pretty big building on a lovely place with many huge health tropical trees where she was preparing an exhibition of a German artists that was there being so rude treating her and all the local staff as slaves that i argued with him and we almost fighted. The securitys had to put us apart.
So i left the place hating "gringos", the locals , myself and everybody else, but had nowhere to go only back to that harbor and feel sick again.
There i discovered that at 6:30 a boat for turists used to let then at the midle of the river because they say the view of the sunset is fantastic fron there. It seems to be the biggest turistic atraction and i wanted to do something stupid, safe, ridiculous... and in my mind i was a turist, so should get into these turistic traps, but the price was to high. This is when i tried to be smart.
I realised that on this harbor have boats that work as bus leting people fron Belen to small vilages in the middle of the forest where there is no access by land.
It was very cheap and i thought i would see the marvelous sunset fron the middle of the river paying 20 times less than suckers turists that payed 10 bucks for a can of coke !!hahah!! Losers!!
I asked for informations and found a boat that would cross the river. It would depart soon so my plan was to leave that market before to be stabed, spend 1 hour and half going to some vilage, come back and see the sunset.
On the line for geting into the boat two mans in front of me were chating :
- "So i had to come back fron Rio de Janeiro because i killed too many people there and now the police is looking for me"
- Right, i know this very well, it has been 2 years i came back too but i feel like to go to Espirito Santo now, people is making money there and you can rape the girls of the indian tribes because nothing happens to you. They are only indians, the police doesn't care".
I couldn't leave the line because had iron gates around me so i could only walk towards the boat, and because they realised i was listen and i didn't want to look like a chicken running away. Stupid macho's proud.
On the boat i saw an old lady reading The Bible and didn't think twice , i sat by her side, then a news paper's man started to scream: "man rapes his sons and daughters, kill his wife and puts fire on the house with everyone inside when the gas exploded and all the neighbors died, you can't lose that!!" he repited this several times.
The boat crossed the large river and gets into a narrow little river into the forest. The travel was silent and i started to relax a bit apreciating the view of trees and sometimes passing in front of some isolated houses where familys lived distant of the standarts of life that i knew so far... very impressive and pretty, but i was still tense as i didn't know where exactaly i was going to, what kind of things i would find on the way. If Belen , the capital was like that...imagine the rest...
Two hours later the boat hadn't stop yet and my plans of geting down to take another one to Belen and see the stupidy sunset were ruined. I asked to the people if it would stop soon and they said that in 15 minutes the first stop would be in a vilage where i could wait for the next boat.
Yes it happened, it was a pier of concrete in the middle of nowhere and i got down... all empty. the place had only some boat garages but nobody working.. i started to walk and saw it had a main ( the only one ) street paralell the river and a tiny bar. So i went there for informations about the boat i should take back.
Inside it the bartender didn't even looked at me ignoring my presence as i had ofended him before or something. Sat on a corner had two whores, one should have 50 or 60 years old , the other 12 or less. I ordered a beer , sat and asked about my boat trying to be polite as i was speaking with the King of Denmark. The man told me that in 20 minutes would pass and it was diferent of the one i took, much faster and confortable. Ok, i had no choice , so i looked to the tv on the ceiling where i could watch soup opera and pretending everything was fine.
The bar was very small, had no tables , only the place where the man served the drinks, a block of cement, with 3 pieces of tree trunks as seat in front and the 2 iron chairs the whores where using, A door at the corner behind the block of cement where i saw had a toilet.
Sundely i start to listen an engine. My boat?!!Great, so i went to the door fron where i could see the river, but nothing. It is when i realised the sound was coming fron sky and saw a small airplane of one helix geting closer to land..... Where? Where is that plane going to land? Oh my ... no... it is going to land on this treet!!! The street was pure earth with stones of big sizes and holes everywhere...
Here comes the airplane...trackblaht boom, pow treivfkbvwopopr splash.... falling into all the holes and hiting all the stones in the way passing in front of me, riding all the street and stoping at the other extreme. Turning around with the helix pointed to the street and finaly parking. A little kid came fron the forest with a huge knife that looked like a sword and a rope. Fron the air plane comes a big man with a pistol on his belt , golden chains on his neck and wrists, dark glasses ... you can imagine the type. He came to the bar and i got inside fastly because didn't want that he realised i was observing him.
Working on my glass of bier i felt when he came into.. i didn't move, the man didn't show that had noticed my presence but stops only few centimetres fron me , the bartender doesn't say nothing only shakes his head. This man extends his hand and drops 3 tiny golden rocks, like grains, on the bartender's hand. Takes a shot of something some drink i have no idea what it is, takes the 12 years old girl and gets into the toilet. I heard the noises of then fucking, what was for 1 or 2 minutes. Then he comes out and go back to the air plane.
I had to see it , so went to the bar's door to watch... i was really curious of how that crapy machine would arrise on those horrible conditions.
So there was the airplane , this time tied by the tail to a tree with the rope the kid that had come out fron the forest broght with him. And there was the kid holding that knife almost his size. The pilot got inside the cabin, turned on the engine and started to accelerate forcing but the airplane didn't move so much because was tied, only the movements the tree allowed to do... smoke going to everywhere... when the man screamed: CUT!! the kid used the knife to cut the rope... and the airplane like a bullet crossed the street. When i thought it would hit the trees at the other side the plane arrises in a impossible impossible impossible ( i should repeat the word impossible hundreds of times ) angle of almost 80 degrees. Flying over the trees only touching a bit the top of it.
Still speechless i realised the kid had vanished into the forest as a ghost and at the same time i hear another engine: my boat! I runned away to the pier as was afraid to lose it. It was a really confortable speed boat with lots of seats. It had place to 100 people but there was only a couple of american turists coming fron i don't know where.
I sat on the back seats alone and quiet still thinking about that airplane stuff.
Looking through the window how the boat cuts the water and the jungle smooth and fast, the many rivers looked like avenues where sometimes other boats came fron diferent directions but obeying the same laws of traffic we have on the streets.
The sun was seting, the colors changing. It was when the boat crossed an area where many rivers met in total diferent and unlogical directions that i saw something that goes beyond the concept of sunset... all the sky , forest and waters geting orange and golden, then fastly purple, blue.. an atmosthere where i could breath the colors and touch it as bilions of birds passing through my body and all the matter i could see... the particles of air shined in milions of colors and i couldn't know anymore if i was sat on a chair, swiming, flying.. if wasn't by the noise of the engine and movements of the boat i could swear it happened an acident, i had died and didn't realise. Sundely The Milk Way was exploding colorful smiles around me and i was so tiny and infinite as one more particule of light...
When the boat arrived to Belen it was dark, i was very afraid of Belen's down town after dark, i am fron Sao Paulo, and had survived horrible things there, any other place of the world could scare me anymore... but Belen was scaring me.
Fastly i tried to find a bus that could take me to the house where i was hosted. It was all ok till a guy, a teenager, on the bus stop starts to chat with me and making me questions that really takes me fron serious. After to have heard my accent and realised i am a typical Sao Paulo's man, the questions started to get even dumber. One thing i never understand when i travel to Brasil is their obssession for want to know what strangers think about the local women: "are you fron out of here? What do you think about the women fron here? What do you think about Brazilian women?" they always ask this . I can't deal with this , i never did , so i always answer:" Why? Do you want to sell me you sister? Maybe you mother? If i get the both do i have a discount?" I must to say , they don't like this answer at all, i alread had several problems because of that, but it is another story, i just can't help myself.
That night i went to the house safe. The following days were a crap, the Cerimony would be friday night , but friday morning i packed up everything and went to airport to trade my ticket flight for the next one to Sao Paulo. Fuck. Send me the check by mail, send the money to my bank account, don't send nothing, whatever. Do what you want, i am leaving.
At the airport the last kid after milions that week got closer with that "smart" face trying to send me brasilian nuts or chocolate... i didn't have any patience and was pretty rude. The kid said: "Let me guess, you are fron Sao Paulo, aren't you?" We both started to laugh and i asked for appoligies. This was my last conversation on that city.
Before to take my flight i saw the pilot of mine with a hot blonde that seemed to be his girlfriend. She took the flight as well, and while the pilot was working in his cabin i did her in the bathroon. I though i was being very smart, cool, a unresistable sexy Don Ruan , but after me she went to the bathroon with more 3 guys. I hate to remember of this trip.
But it isn't over. Landing in SP, at the airport i saw a girl waving to me, it was my ex-girlsfriend's best friend. She said that had to drop her brother there because he was traveling to somewhere, Florianopolis i think, and knew that i would be arriving at the same time so decided to give me a ride as she knew i don't have a car or a girlfriend to take me home. She delivers me a book and says it is a gift.
- "How to paint oil portraits"? It was a book writen by some american semi profissional housewife with Dutch name.
- "Yes, Caio...i thought you would enjoy as now you are a profissional painter and are recieving awards, maybe it is a good idea to learn how to paint well. I've seen your paintings, it is going to help you".
- "You know , i am recieving awards maybe , maybe because my works aren't a total crap".
- "sure..." and she smiles as i was a little kid "... you are a promisse".
I hate to remember of this trip.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
i wrote the text this morning before to go out and do my things. I only woke up feeling like to tell this story as sinse i started the Mein Welt blog i felt like to post about.
forgive me all the gramatical mistakes and if you didn't understand any part , i am sorry , i fix later.
done , i am posting this story. i feel free now.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Pictorial Consequence // REDUCTIVE
link to my books: Reductive : www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1419178
The Pictorial Consequence : www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1155734
http://www.blurb.com/search/site_search?search=caio+fernandes&filter=all&commit=Search
hope you like it and buy all then as the price is really friendly and the quality is TOP HIGH !!
i will try a berry life
i will try a berry life
by Caio Fernandes, 2010
i am too lazy and have no ingredients for making and baking my own bread, i am going to the nearst bakery and buy a wickbold.
the sun isn't gentle on the streets, lifting the breeze far fron me. the morning was so cold and good to live... but now!!wow!
berrys dance fresh in the bown and some even scaped jumping on the table.
naught berrys think that just because are pretty and tasty can make a mess in my house.
okay, yes they can.
if i were a tinny purple rabbit would fly over the roof at late afternoon and sparkle.
but as i am a tinny blue cat i am going to sleep on this sunday afternoon waiting the night comes up and look for some adventure in the gardem.
i don't remember very well what is a gardem.
but if i am not wrong
gardem is a secret place that only exists among the moviments of the combination of hands, hearts, earths and skys in bloom.
in bloom.... this is a good lifestyle, i will try more times a berry life.
by Caio Fernandes, 2010
i am too lazy and have no ingredients for making and baking my own bread, i am going to the nearst bakery and buy a wickbold.
the sun isn't gentle on the streets, lifting the breeze far fron me. the morning was so cold and good to live... but now!!wow!
berrys dance fresh in the bown and some even scaped jumping on the table.
naught berrys think that just because are pretty and tasty can make a mess in my house.
okay, yes they can.
if i were a tinny purple rabbit would fly over the roof at late afternoon and sparkle.
but as i am a tinny blue cat i am going to sleep on this sunday afternoon waiting the night comes up and look for some adventure in the gardem.
i don't remember very well what is a gardem.
but if i am not wrong
gardem is a secret place that only exists among the moviments of the combination of hands, hearts, earths and skys in bloom.
in bloom.... this is a good lifestyle, i will try more times a berry life.
THE MAN AND HIS DOG... WHAT AN ARMY.
The Man and his Dog.... What an Army!!
by Caio Fernandes , 2010
night.
narrow streets between avenues
my right fist is holding hard the chain around his neck.
and he is happy for being angry, wouldn't change this for nothing.
i have the control.
i stop on the sidewalk.
make him get calmer, he really doesn't like diferent people.
he gets calmer.
then continuing to walk.
my left is free.
the night is pure
the air is thin
the tempeturature is cold
the step is sure
the breath is deep
the eye is opened
no words here means a long speech of victory.
the man and his dog.... what an army !!!!
by Caio Fernandes , 2010
night.
narrow streets between avenues
my right fist is holding hard the chain around his neck.
and he is happy for being angry, wouldn't change this for nothing.
i have the control.
i stop on the sidewalk.
make him get calmer, he really doesn't like diferent people.
he gets calmer.
then continuing to walk.
my left is free.
the night is pure
the air is thin
the tempeturature is cold
the step is sure
the breath is deep
the eye is opened
no words here means a long speech of victory.
the man and his dog.... what an army !!!!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The RAMONES at the Mein Welt's pre-history
Here some very few ( but beautiful ) proves that THE RAMONES are at the origin and the pre-history of Mein Welt .
I consider then the very first Welter band of the History even Mein Welt have bourned after their end.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
taken fron: Comando:
"First rule is: The laws of Germany
Second rule is: Be nice to mommy
Tird rule is: Don't talk to commies
Fourth rule is: Eat kosher salamis" ( i always sing; eat vegan salamis )
---------------------------------------------------------------------
taken fron: It's a long way back
"It is a long way back to Germany".
--------------------------------------------------------------------
taken fron: Today your Love , Tomorrow the World.
"I am a shock tropper in a stupor
Yes I am
I am a Nazi schatze
Y'know I fight for Fatherland.
I am a Nazi , baby, I am a Nazi
Yes I am
I am a nazi shatze
Y' know i fight for Vaterland
Little German boy
Being pushing around
Little German boy
In a German yown.
ein
zwei
drei
vier:
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
Today your love
Tomorrow the World
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
taken fron: Blitzkreig Bop -
the liric is perfect but the title says all.
------------------------------------------------
First of all I love Jesus Christ.
in secong place I love Ramones .
And these are the only real loves of my life.
The diference is :
I love Jesus because i know He is the only one that can save me.
I love Ramones because i can't help myself.
.
if you do not call this religious fanatism : you are wrong.
.
Let me make one thing very clear here:
This Germany doesn't exist and never did.
That is the reason i came fron it .
I created this and called Mein Welt .
I have absolut no interest in what people calls "Gemany" today because it is as boring as all the marvelous post-modern global world.
thank you Crissant for have sent me the photo
Friday, July 23, 2010
You have never seen me .
You have never seen me.
by Caio Fernandes 2010.
You have never seen me, early in the morning there is no sun light on the streets when i pass in front your house.
I see the lights up and some furniture by the windows while the perfume of the garden embraces me as a coat protecting fron the cold and drizzle.
I never had courage to stop at the sidewalk and apreciate it as a piece of art in a museum because i am afraid someone calls the police as my cheap old cloths can scare you neighbors and family.
Everything about you and your life is so beautiful.
You got married with this man that is good and can give you everything.
Every day i walk 2 blocks more than i should only for pass in front this house, and looking discretely to it makes me feel like to keep dreaming and living.
Then i arrive at the subway station at the same time every single day, pretending i am not going to work as a cleaner or i am not diferent of the other people.
Down the stairs i walk till almost the end of the plataform and take my place always at the same spot. When the train arrives i will be in front the tird door waiting it get opened.
What happens is that sat at the same place has that sweet pretty woman, she never looked at me, never noticed that i exist. I cough and change places passing in front of her, but nothing.
If one day she looks at me, i will get courage and say Hi.
When i am working at my job, people avoids me and my mop.
After 4 hours i leave that place whitout listening a good morning or a bood bye.
Then i go to the street walking down the sidewalk where i am less then one among hundreds of thousands. I say this because if i was at least one, i would have a name and a face... but not.
Every day i visit at least one agency of job, there are many but i went to all then hundreds of times. When i pass through the door the same staff of always look to me as it was the first time asking me to fill the formulary and leave on the table. I must to wait they call to my cell phone what never happens.
Back to the street i walk as much miles as God can count. Because it is for free and because i expect that a miracle can cross my way.
I get into all the stores of the entire downtown pretending i am looking for something to buy. I know the price of all the products of every single store. It is very rare a sales person comes and asks me if can helps me, what is fine by me as when they do it i have the impression they are asking me to leave.
By the evening i come back but pass in front your house again, hear the kids argueing or asking for new toys. It makes me happy and then i go to the house where i rent a shared bedroom. There is always someone coocking at the kitchen but nobody says nothing because it isn't anybody business.
I take a shower as fast as possible before someone knocks the door wanting to use the toilet. In my roon i sit on the bed counting the cents in my pocket even knowing very well how much it has.
This world has left and forgoten me in this hole, i pray for at least Jesus remembers that i exist.
I pray for one day have a house like yours, a smart wife with good character that smiles to me all the time i look at her.
The garden in front is going to be beautiful and everyone is going to be able to see fron the sidewalk.
I am going to put my name on the mailbox, so people will know that i exist, neighbors are going to pronunciate this everyday for saying good morning.
There is just one thing i am never, never never never going to do after to get all this.
I will never build a wall in front of my home and garden as i see you are going to start one now.
I am writing this note with the intention to leave inside your mail box asking to you for do not build this wall.
I know you are going to think it is very weird and see one more reason to build as there was a psicho observing you life.
But i am not a psicho, only an inofencive poor man the has used the view of your house to feed its own dreans.
Don't worry, i am invisible, you will never notice me passing in front of it, as you never did.
You have never seen me.
Forget.
I am not going to leave this note inside your mail box. If you realise that i exist is very possible you call the police to "give me a lesson" next time i pass in front your house.
I am glad you have never seen me.
And... am i alucinating? I mean, why did i think someone would do what i ask?
Forget.
You have never seen me.
.
by Caio Fernandes 2010.
You have never seen me, early in the morning there is no sun light on the streets when i pass in front your house.
I see the lights up and some furniture by the windows while the perfume of the garden embraces me as a coat protecting fron the cold and drizzle.
I never had courage to stop at the sidewalk and apreciate it as a piece of art in a museum because i am afraid someone calls the police as my cheap old cloths can scare you neighbors and family.
Everything about you and your life is so beautiful.
You got married with this man that is good and can give you everything.
Every day i walk 2 blocks more than i should only for pass in front this house, and looking discretely to it makes me feel like to keep dreaming and living.
Then i arrive at the subway station at the same time every single day, pretending i am not going to work as a cleaner or i am not diferent of the other people.
Down the stairs i walk till almost the end of the plataform and take my place always at the same spot. When the train arrives i will be in front the tird door waiting it get opened.
What happens is that sat at the same place has that sweet pretty woman, she never looked at me, never noticed that i exist. I cough and change places passing in front of her, but nothing.
If one day she looks at me, i will get courage and say Hi.
When i am working at my job, people avoids me and my mop.
After 4 hours i leave that place whitout listening a good morning or a bood bye.
Then i go to the street walking down the sidewalk where i am less then one among hundreds of thousands. I say this because if i was at least one, i would have a name and a face... but not.
Every day i visit at least one agency of job, there are many but i went to all then hundreds of times. When i pass through the door the same staff of always look to me as it was the first time asking me to fill the formulary and leave on the table. I must to wait they call to my cell phone what never happens.
Back to the street i walk as much miles as God can count. Because it is for free and because i expect that a miracle can cross my way.
I get into all the stores of the entire downtown pretending i am looking for something to buy. I know the price of all the products of every single store. It is very rare a sales person comes and asks me if can helps me, what is fine by me as when they do it i have the impression they are asking me to leave.
By the evening i come back but pass in front your house again, hear the kids argueing or asking for new toys. It makes me happy and then i go to the house where i rent a shared bedroom. There is always someone coocking at the kitchen but nobody says nothing because it isn't anybody business.
I take a shower as fast as possible before someone knocks the door wanting to use the toilet. In my roon i sit on the bed counting the cents in my pocket even knowing very well how much it has.
This world has left and forgoten me in this hole, i pray for at least Jesus remembers that i exist.
I pray for one day have a house like yours, a smart wife with good character that smiles to me all the time i look at her.
The garden in front is going to be beautiful and everyone is going to be able to see fron the sidewalk.
I am going to put my name on the mailbox, so people will know that i exist, neighbors are going to pronunciate this everyday for saying good morning.
There is just one thing i am never, never never never going to do after to get all this.
I will never build a wall in front of my home and garden as i see you are going to start one now.
I am writing this note with the intention to leave inside your mail box asking to you for do not build this wall.
I know you are going to think it is very weird and see one more reason to build as there was a psicho observing you life.
But i am not a psicho, only an inofencive poor man the has used the view of your house to feed its own dreans.
Don't worry, i am invisible, you will never notice me passing in front of it, as you never did.
You have never seen me.
Forget.
I am not going to leave this note inside your mail box. If you realise that i exist is very possible you call the police to "give me a lesson" next time i pass in front your house.
I am glad you have never seen me.
And... am i alucinating? I mean, why did i think someone would do what i ask?
Forget.
You have never seen me.
.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
only because exists . by Caio Fernandes 2010
only because exists
by Caio Fernandes 2010
she has arrived fron a long travel ; fron a distant place.
....and met me here inside this endless jorney about no space.
i tried to look to the left , to the right ...
and finaly got courage to look into her eyes . It wasn't there .. her eyes never came back fron the travel.
good , because i never minded her presence anyway, but now i am curious... what had there so far, strong enough to arrest eyes of a boring woman like her ?
Whatever it is my next move is going to be towards the oposite direction.
tieing bows of no love is too commun in a life where i don't even care.
existence is a too noisy experience. every single moviment of the matter disturbs me . and it moves only because exists.
by Caio Fernandes 2010
she has arrived fron a long travel ; fron a distant place.
....and met me here inside this endless jorney about no space.
i tried to look to the left , to the right ...
and finaly got courage to look into her eyes . It wasn't there .. her eyes never came back fron the travel.
good , because i never minded her presence anyway, but now i am curious... what had there so far, strong enough to arrest eyes of a boring woman like her ?
Whatever it is my next move is going to be towards the oposite direction.
tieing bows of no love is too commun in a life where i don't even care.
existence is a too noisy experience. every single moviment of the matter disturbs me . and it moves only because exists.
MAÇÃS
por Caio Fernandes 20io
Maçãs...
o vermelho compacto sobre a mesa de madeira escura extende veus de vibraçao feminina por todo espaço.
sinto cheiro de montanhas escondidas dentro dos intervalos de respiraçao calma.
poderia segurar a vida com a ponta dos 5 dedos e deixas eguida no ar contido de uma sala escura.
e nao e isso que faço todos os dias?
inalar.
morder .
ingerir.
sentir.
e soltar o ar...
Maçãs....
nao essa colheita antiga - agora somente amare das galaxias por Caio Fernandes
Nao essa Mare Antiga. Agora somente a Mare das Galaxias.
por Caio Fernandes 2010.
------------------------------------------------------------
voce sabe oque aconteceu?
estavamos colhendo moleculas de culpa dentro dos nossos esquecimentos...
nao,
eu tive que me afastar de tudo,
de voce tambem... e voce morreu para mim.
para sempre. definhnado com o tempo.
estou livre da sua colheita .
354
378
9237
080
94
7749
veloz como caes pastores correm com seus musculos e pelos macios dentro das veias do meu ant-braço enquanto ando sozinho ignorando mundos ao redor para ver apenas minha mente distante daqui.
crescem verdes sob paredes de respiros gostos por intocaveis .
vou deixar a mare das galaxias bater na porta.
por Caio Fernandes 2010.
------------------------------------------------------------
voce sabe oque aconteceu?
estavamos colhendo moleculas de culpa dentro dos nossos esquecimentos...
nao,
eu tive que me afastar de tudo,
de voce tambem... e voce morreu para mim.
para sempre. definhnado com o tempo.
estou livre da sua colheita .
354
378
9237
080
94
7749
veloz como caes pastores correm com seus musculos e pelos macios dentro das veias do meu ant-braço enquanto ando sozinho ignorando mundos ao redor para ver apenas minha mente distante daqui.
crescem verdes sob paredes de respiros gostos por intocaveis .
vou deixar a mare das galaxias bater na porta.
hunting game and ballet .
Hunting Game, by Caio Fernandes 2010.
happy toes on cold floor smiling to the fresh breese that dances with the deep blue sky.
my expectatives listen if the water is ready for tea.
the dogs at the backyard predending that are sleeping together, they look like little lions... they want to make the cats get closer to jump on then. but the cats are hiden at the grapevine waiting the birds get closer to jump on then . and i am hiden behind the kitchen's door to jump on everyone and make then stop the hunting game.
- Go to find something better to do your rascals.
steps and spine in the silent routine of life ... wings fron distant waterfalls sing movements of clouds into my lips,mouth,jaw,troat.....as a ballet of dreans that are going to be dreamed yet.
there is a misterious sensation of moisten earth in my imagination pointing distances and pretending to be a pillow for my silence.
happy toes on cold floor smiling to the fresh breese that dances with the deep blue sky.
my expectatives listen if the water is ready for tea.
the dogs at the backyard predending that are sleeping together, they look like little lions... they want to make the cats get closer to jump on then. but the cats are hiden at the grapevine waiting the birds get closer to jump on then . and i am hiden behind the kitchen's door to jump on everyone and make then stop the hunting game.
- Go to find something better to do your rascals.
steps and spine in the silent routine of life ... wings fron distant waterfalls sing movements of clouds into my lips,mouth,jaw,troat.....as a ballet of dreans that are going to be dreamed yet.
there is a misterious sensation of moisten earth in my imagination pointing distances and pretending to be a pillow for my silence.
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