Another look at the vivarium, now with flowering Sinningia muscicola Rio das Pedras.
This species is one example of a collection of species and hybrids commonly called “micro-mini Sinningias”. The diameter of the plant rosette is about 3 cm (that’d be a little more than an inch). The flowers are about 5 millimeters, pure white except for some vague blue mottling in the throat. My plants really thrive in the humid environment with constant air- and water circulation and good lighting (all these variables are important to avoid molds, algae overgrowth and rot. More on the construction of the vivarium in this post). There are other micromini species and I plan to try them all out. Having a vivarium this small is a bit like having a reverse bonsai, grooming meticulously inwards instead of pruning borders. I am looking forward to continue working with it. I do like the idea of restricting my huge intrest-drive to a smaller space like this. Restriction makes for quality and lots of time for this one structure. This thing is like a tiny green jewel.
There is a lot of information on Sinningia cultivation on the ‘net. A good start is googling “micro-mini sinningia” or visiting the American Gesneried Society homepage. I joined the Swedish Gesneriad Society earlier this year and I am very happy with the magazine and general attitude towards newbies (the homepage is partly in English).
Thanks to my father for taking the very fine photographs!
In other news: two weeks until I move and start working at my new, very exciting place of work. Looking forward to it immensely.
Recently read: I finally got to read Jasper Ffordes Shades of Grey, and oh, was that a great read! The only good thing about putting off reading it for so long may be that the next book in the installment (of three, I believe) comes out later this year. The wait from 2010 would have been long, had I read the first installment earlier. Since I love reading about colour, perception, weird stuff and dystopia-flavoured adventures in mad bureaucracies, this book is just up my alley. The general colourfeeling of this book is a somewhat bleak sepia tone. The constant referencing to colours messes up my synaesthetic book-sense, though (and I am not bothered by that in the least). This book is among getting-in-hardback-for-regular-price-territory for me, which is sort of epic since I am a bit neurotic when it comes to spending money. I have gotten better about that, though. Largely because I like authors getting their due.
Future plans: I wish I could get started making small illustrations related to books I have really enjoyed, to try to capture the vividness of imagery a really well written book creates in my mind. Next blog post is wholly original though, but unfortunately not yet finished (and may never be…).
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Ray Bradbury was the King of Colour. His colours are clear, bright and comes onto you like you are being on a paintball field and everyone is gunning for you. And there is darkness and there is a black that somehow is iridiscent and colourful in itself. Noone else writes that black colour. Now he is dead. But his colours are still there, as vivid as always.
I checked, it is true.
The drawing I choose to illustrate Ray Bradbury is black and white. It is a charcoal drawing I made when I was about 16 years old.
Some authors’ works elicit more colour than others. Badly written books tend not to be colourful at all. On the other hand, a great book does not have to be colourful and the manner and quantity of colour does not correspond to the quality of the writing. I do tend to be drawn to authors that write colourfully, though. It lends another dimension to reading, a dimension that I enjoy.
There are some authors that write bleakly but I still love them. Susannah Clarke is an author whose colours are very bleak. There are colours, they are simply not saturated (which in her writing is beautiful). Neil Gaiman is a colourful writer. The colours are plenty saturated and often strong and shiny, but there is always shadows lending shades and hues making reading him all the more enjoyable. Diana Wynne Jones was a very colourful, bright writer. When fading, her colours went not toward shadows but toward whitish fog and smog. When she passed away I tried painting something in her honor and planned making a post on the blog since I have admired her works since I was about nine years old, but I never managed to produce something adequate. There are plenty other colourwriters, I might write more about them later.
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Posted in Art, Musings, Other Obsessions, tagged Apache Sunset, Drollery, Lamy Safari, Landscape, Noodler's ink, Parker Rollerball, Rhodia, synaesthesia on January 4, 2012|
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I am slightly synaestethic, associating letters, words and numbers with colours. “Drollery” is a light and airy word, like sunshine on warm sand. The -ish ending makes it even nicer. “Doodle” is not as pretty, it is a more flat beige-boring yellow.
That is why I won’t have a ”doodle”-tag, I’ll call everything that dribbles out of my pen under non-controlled circumstances (when I should be writing) a ”drollery” even though it might not strictly fall in the Wikipedia definition of drollery. A sketch is a whole other story (which I too seldom associate myself with) since it is made under planned, controlled circumstances (at least more controlled than the doodle, right?). The semantics is making my head hurt, so let’s go on to the drawing:
Title: Drollerish Alien Landscape
Size: app. 15×3 cm
Equipment: Parker Rollerball with bluish black cartridge ink, partially dried and clumpy with age (also used making my Swamp Elf). Lamy Safari with broad nib. Coloured ink is Noodler’s Apache Sunset.
Computer alteration: none.
Paper: Rhodia lined notebook.
Inspiration: this calls for an explanation of the word “drollery” (see link above). I first encountered it when I was surfing on Wikipedia looking for variations on intuitive drawing. Believe me, SO much fell in to place. This is my scholarly life, people. Weird conglomerations of animals doing unspeakable things in margins of notebooks. Yep.
Notes: The broad, very smooth nib of the Lamy Safari made blending the two inks easy. Mixed, they produced a very nice yellowish green colour I wish I could reproduce. The Parker pen has kicked the bucket, have not found a suitable replacement yet.
Reading tips I own an interesting book “The Hidden Sense: Synesthesia in Art and Science”. It is edited by Crétien van Campen. The link leads to the publisher, you can also find a very extensive list of publications and other resources there. I look forward to exploring several of them myself.
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Posted in Art, Fountain pens, Musings, tagged Blog, Burma Road Brown, Dark History of Doom, Fountain pen ink, Lucid dreaming, Mabie-Todd, Noodler's ink, Penmanship, Seawhite of Brighton, synaesthesia on February 4, 2011|
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Important Notice: “Anachroneironaut” is a bloody long name for a blog when you carefully make a header in pseudo-calligraphy and then commence cleaning up the lines in the computer. Just thought I’d inform you of that.
Pen and ink used to create header
Title: Header, Mabie Todd Blackbird and Burma Road Brown
Size: ca 4 x 15 cm (header).
Equipment: Text: Mabie-Todd Blackbird semi-flex lever-filler with Noodler’s Burma Road Brown. One of my favourite inks at the moment. Ordered it from Goulet Pens, recommended!
Computer alteration: Removal of background and a slight change in colour intensity and brightness/contrast (the scanned header) and heightening of brightness (the photographs). These pictures are an excellent example how different the same ink can look in different circumstances. The header is scanned and the intensity of the colour is heightened a bit. I have made no changes in hue or colour balance! The photograph is taken in natural light (with my digital camera, Casio Ex-H15). Looks like two different inks altogether… The true colour (looking at my own screen anyway) lies somewhere in between and is heavily dependent on the paper and light conditions. But it is definitly a warm colour.
Paper: Same ol’ Seawhite of Brighton.
Inspiration: I started writing down my dreams when I was 11 years old, in a book I got from my aunt. A brown book with a fish on it. Some of the time I had lucid dreams . Over the years I have been more or less good at writing down my dreams and working on lucid dreaming, but I have always had a dreamjournal. A lucid dreamer is sometimes called an Oneironaut – one who walks in dreams. I have a fascination for time-travelling as well as timelessness and times past. To me, an anachronaut is a person who enjoy exploring anachronism.
A fascination that is bigger than either of the above ones is words. I have a slight case of synasthesia and I love the the very concept of putting words together to add to and change the meaning of them. Anachroneironaut is practically impossible to spell, but I couldn’t help it. I had to make it my own. (more…)
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