DUST IN THE WIND ⎜ TIME ⎜MEMORIES

"Where did all the days go" by Rebecca Green

This song by Kansas called "Dust in the Wind" (1977) inspired me to write this post:

"I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment's gone

All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity

Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind

Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea

All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

Now, don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky

It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind"

There's this subject that I never seem to get out of my mind, and that is the passing of time.

The fact that moments, seconds, minutes pass by so quickly, it's like it's gone already before I get 

the chance to grasp it. And sometimes I find myself unable to recall what I've done the last few 

days or weeks, which makes me start to question if that might reflect my inability to process all

the events, conversations, thoughts, writings that I encounter.  I believe part of it can be the

state of not being present in the moment which I think is better described as a "sleepwalker". 

- Unaware that your consciousness is somewhere else, it's like your mind is set to autopilot. 

Perhaps your mind has taken trivial, everyday events for granted and lost the curiousity for life

and just got lost somewhere in between.

Technology, different forms of light entertainment such as social media, internet, television is a 
time killer too I believe. Perhaps that's the answer to when we all say: "Where did all that time go?"

When we spend 1/3 of our lives sleeping, we shouldn't "sleep away" another half of our lives?

Distractions are everywhere, I tend to pull myself together and distance myself, and "disconnect"

from the internet world and impulses. In few words; focus, space, disposing time in a conscious matter.

It's a combination of how we process and treasure our memories, and also a way of thinking,

a mentality that always thinks forward, ahead of time, which in fact just serves as an 

illusion that distracts us from what is in front of us this very moment. Your reality is

now. Not next friday, or when summer finally arrives. If we have this kind of mentality

of always looking forward to the future, "future" has lost its value, for when the "future"

arrives, we won't even realize, cause we are already looking forward to next weekend, 

next event etc.

- Six Feet Under, TV series (2005) 

M E M O R I E S

by

Isabel H.R

Life is fluid, its constant movement keeps it ever changing, reflections and echoes of

past personas shattered all over, still invisible to some. There's no force that holds it

in one place. It's like a stormy sea that never stays the same. Memories, even memories find

a way to slip through your fingers, unless you keep them dear in a precious box. 

Events rise from above and dive back into the sea, though it's weightless, it sinks fading 

into a memory. The only things that stays throughout the storm is the bonds, the feelings 

that's been created with the people and the places you've met along the way, that is 

something which is beyond the measure of time.

But the day will come, when I must depart, leave all my belongings behind and sink into the 

bottomless sea - will there be any traces of me, flowing back up to the surface of the sea? 

Traces of thoughts, values, or loved ones that keep their idea of me in their memory. A picture

is the only thing that represent me physically. But is this really me, appearances are deceiving,

and pictures tells only one side of the story. What about all my writings whom I left alone on

my desk? Or perhaps a thought, a saying, led its singing way into someone else and lives on like a 

whispering wind? A form of consciousness in the present world, for the next generations to come.

I wonder if my mind will ever be echoed liked that, what a beautiful thing it would be.

- Just as little as you get to share of yourself with the the world, when you pass away, it's like

there's these fragments of you left shattered all over. No matter how transparent you felt your

 life and your influence on the world has been, there is this need for those in your family that comes 

after you to acknowledge your existence, because of this strange sense of belonging, cause you're all 

related to one another. What pieces will be left for your descendants to puzzle? 

I always believed my thoughts were best translated into paper, as a piece of writing. It's a 

neutral zone where I can write - think - reflect - write.  It enables me to observe objectively 

what I'm thinking. The whole thing is like a thought process. So in a way it's a way of 

confronting yourself, cause once thoughts are translated into words, you can't escape them, 

cause they are literally brought to life. There's so much going on in our minds, so much that

we might even not be aware of. But if you step back a little, and take time to dive into that

consciousness you might find a little seed, and bring it into life by starting writing about it. 

It's basically like taking a thought and develop it to a higher level. It broadens my whole 

awareness about who I want to be, what I believe in and how to communicate what's going 

on in my mind to the people that surrounds me and how I see myself in the midst of it all,

my place in the world.

I think how you should process, store and value your life events, days, months, hours is entirely

 up to each individual. The most important thing is that you're aware. Some people can go through 

life not even questioning themselves, and that's perhaps when you end up saying; "Where did my 

life go?" You have to be more aware about what you are doing and why you are doing it. A way

of processing and shaping your own reality.

Illustration, artist unknown

FANTASY ⎜ REALITY ⎜ IDENTITY

artwork by Andreas Lie

We are offered access to different kinds of worlds through numerous mediums like books, 

films and music. When our minds truly let go and we are completely immersed with that 

world that has invited us in, it's almost as if just for that moment, we are somewhere 

completely else.

Some might say, that what you would like to call fantasy or fiction is just a 

form of escapism. I, on the contrary, think it's an extension of the wonderful ability 

we have called imagination. Any forms of art is merely a platform to channel and 

visualize and share what's going on in our minds, - our thoughts and our imagination. 

It's like a cultural community. What we think, feel and see in our minds might say 

more about us as a person than what we can talk about and describe with mere 

words. It's all a part of what shapes our sense of identity.

"my head is a hive of words that won't settle" 
- Virginia Wolf

Being able to experience and immerse ourselves with different kinds of art forms, 

I believe it's more like an exploration of different ways of seeing reality. We all 

perceive and look at the world and people around us in our own way wether we're 

aware of it or not. So it's like a little peak into another persons mind, how they 

see and sense the world, through their eyes. This makes films, books and music a 

wonderful collective thing. Like a collective consciousness, where we learn to 

understand different outlooks on life, different thoughts and perspectives. All 

this is channelled through our imagination. It's a another way of communicating 

and connecting with people. 

artwork by Jiwoon Pak


Sometimes I've been wondering why I have a hard time communicating with 

new people, communicating my ideas that represent me and just giving them 

a slightest sense of who I am. But it's hard to communicate cause I'm being 

observed through a different lens.

We are talking
but no one is listening

where are all the people

no one is at my frequency

where are they - where am I?

You look

but what you see
is a reflection of yourself

you hear

but all you listen to 

is the echo of yourself

With this it's easy to feel disconnected with the world. You learn that no one 

can know you like you do. But still there is this urge within to share yourself 

with someone, even though you can still be independently happy.

"What does it mean, the right man?

The love of your life? The concept is absurd. 
The idea that we can only be complete with 

another person is evil."
- Before Sunrise, (1995) 

Back to the collective consciousness, this might be where you can share 

and discover feelings and thoughts you have in common with other people.

For instance, when you can relate to something on a personal level in for 

example a movie, or there is something about the music in the film that 

resonates within you, if that other person shared a similar feeling, it occurs

a mutual understanding on some level. It could be a good foundation or 

starting point for getting to know one another. Or if you shared your own 

imaginative work, wether it's a piece of poetry, drawing or a photograph. 

Regardless of its content, it's one small piece of yourself that you offer. 

In that sense it could be an alternative way of communicating, connecting 

with another person.

Or to share both of your individual views on a film, artwork or music 

piece, could reveal a lot about your personalities. What a person choose to 

see, tells a whole lot about them, doesn't it?
This approach might be a good starting point;

"My perception of reality is different from yours,

but can we meet on the crossroad of our different 

worlds and exchange some thoughts?"

artwork by Yumi Sakugawa

Our imagination says something profound about of our sense of identity.

We can connect with other people through so many things. There's no limits; 

To listen, to feel, to touch, to know, to share, to write, to trust, by eye contact, 

by a moment of silence, by sharing memories and the list goes on...

Fiction and fantasy might be just as much part of reality, as the "reality" we 

have been taught to see. Reality is defined by the very person that perceives 

the world and life through his own senses, his own pair of eyes, his own mind.

I love this little quote from the film

Alice Through The Looking Glass:

"Alice: But a dream is not reality. 
Mad Hatter: But who is to say which is which" 

It's like we always look for terms and definitions of things that is nothing else 

than a restriction. When we have such abilities as our own imagination, 

why would we try to limit it?

"If the dream is a translation of waking life,
waking life is also a translation of the dream"
- Rene Magritte

A JOURNEY TO PORTUGAL

A Journey To Portugal from isabelle H.R on Vimeo.

T R A V E L  V I D E O

A short travel video I made from my two week long trip to Portugal.

The music is the portuguese music style fado performed by

Amália Rodrigues. The places displayed in the video are

cascais ⎮ lisbon ⎮ obidos ⎮sintra

I tried to capture a small piece of Portugal's

soul for those who haven't been there before, so they might get a
little glimpse of what the feeling of the culture and country is like.

COULDN'T FLY ⎜ ILLUSTRATION

This was a tiny text I wrote a while ago. 

But the words has always somehow been in

the back of my head. I like the simplicity

of it, yet it can still be quite profound.

One of the birds couldn't fly.

The other birds helped him

but never wondered why

For me it's based on the thought of a lot

of young people, that despite having their

family/friends around, feels alienated in the bigger 

picture. The people who are supposed to be dear 

to them, doesn't really know them. The sad part is that 

they think they understand the individual, but the truth 

is they are not even curious what's on the mind of their

loved one. Especially parents fail to know their

children's true person.  The most fundamental aspects of 

a good relationship is lost and they don't even see it.

Such ignorance they can be so unaware of. 

And the youth is left with a sense of loneliness, 

even though their closest ones are right there.

All pictures taken by Isabel H.R

FARMOR OG FARFAR

K A R I N    ⎮    B J A R N E

This little piece is for my grandparents,

Karin and Bjarne.

They got married in 1949. 

I remember the story of the two of them

being recently an official couple and my

grandfather studied abroad in Newcastle and

my grandmother received numerous letters in

the mail from my grandfather, and at one

point the mail man said:

"I think he must be in love!"

to my grandmother. It's a little bit clichè,

but it's something so sweet about it.

She always tells the story with such 

enthusiasm and a little touch of humour 

even though she's 88. She's my proof that 

age is just a number, age might give you a few

practical restrictions, but if you're young

at heart, no one can say anything against

that your philosophy of life is wrong.

I just saw a documentary about the pianist

Alice Herz Sommer, a 109 year old woman

who was the oldest pianist and holocaust 

survivor until her death in early 2014.
In the midst of the german invasion in

Prague, she was asked to play, and she

played concerts which seemed to take

everyone even the german officers away

from the harsh reality. There were even

guards listening from the outside through

the window. It is a beautiful reminder

of what music can do and how 

significant it really is.

But the point of mentioning Alice is her 

appreciation, spark and outlook on life. 

Through music which she says brings 

her to another world, she has learned 

to see the beauty about life. 

People always see disadvantages about

getting old, but I believe that as long as

your mind is intact and clear, you have the

time of your life to immerse yourself

with the things you love, and just stay in

it, be it, create your own sense of reality in it.

And you can't be selfish about it, cause

you're old. 

But she mentioned that you have to get this 

old to realize life's beauty. It's a interesting 

statement, but I think that depends 

more on the individual. I suppose I would 

have to get old first to answer that, as I'm 

looking at my life in retrospective.

I myself have not experienced that kind 

of love my grandparents have yet, but 

if I do I would be forever grateful.

I do believe there's something special,

something more to love, like it surpasses

reality, I think the bonds we create

is not for granted even though in the end

we die alone, and we are sepparated. 

I think love goes beyond the dimensions of 

reality, and it's something worth living for

I believe. Just like the music,

the passion, for Alice Sommer, it's her

own sense of something otherworldly, 

something holy.

All pictures taken by Isabel H.R

PORTUGUESE TREASURES

P O R T U G A L
cascais ⎮ lisbon ⎮ obidos ⎮sintra

Here's some of the small things I've gathered on my two week long trip to Portugal.
A handmade flower band which I got in a small village called Obidos,
a small tile inspired by Portugal's many tile artworks, a note book I got in a

huge bookstore called Ler Devagar in Lisbon, two post cards depicting
Portugal's historical Fado, a music genre which is still kept traditionally as it

is a part of the heart and soul of the Portuguese culture. I've also got an
african shell, another handmade flower band, a doll being a
traditional portuguese farmer girl and a porcelain bird.

All pictures taken by Isabel H.R

DEAR STRANGER - LETTER

THE MAKING OF PORTRAITS

Hungarian model, Merse Molnar. 

P O R T R A I T S

I've never really had the guts to try to do portraits.

I suppose I never thought I would be able to

capture a persons characteristics in a meaningful 

way. But here I dived into unknown territory 

and gave it a try as my first proper portrait.

I've also thought about what the differences between a

photographic portrait and hand crafted portraits like

painted or drawn ones. I suppose it all comes down to

the artist himself. Perhaps the photographer are simply
intrigued by the person's natural features and qualities. 

But sometimes the artist want to make use of the

artistery, and go beyond the limits of what's 

portrayed as something purely realistic. 

I chose this picture particularly because of the look

he expresses with his eyes is something quite

seductive, yet suspicious or dark. So with the

power of a pencil I wanted to make that

more visible. Reveal a part of his subconsciousness,

that couldn't be exposed in the same way 

through a photograph. 

And perhaps that might raise some

questions for the person portrayed himself?

ON THE ROAD

where do you feel at home

where do you feel you belong?

maybe you're still on the road

searching

with a sense of loss

perhaps thats where

your soul belongs

on the road 

constantly changing

new faces and discoveries 

around every corner

like a ghost

rushing through

no one who knows you

no attachments

no strings to pull

you back

just you and your 

self

on the road

all the way

until you're old

that's when you'll see

things are not what they seem

cause all the faces you've seen

still holds you

in their dreams

- poem written by me,

 Isabel H.R

FAR AWAY

How can you be so close

yet so far away ?

Sometimes there are certain people you want to 

connect with, but you never seem to reach them.

It seems to be an endless game, cause whatever you do,

they will never acknowledge you, they will never really see you.
You're invisible dust, blowing against the wind.

But the eyes has a way of betraying

Cause you never really know,

do you?

- Picture is a still from a video 

I made a while ago.

JAPANESE HAND CRAFTS

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C E R A M I C S   F R O M   K Y O T O

At a crafts market in Kyoto I discovered 

these animal creatures as they were presented

and placed on the roots of a tree which caught

my attention immediately. I love the japanese ability
to create the most amazing creatures and characters. 

I love going to these kinds of markets,
walking around and discovering new hand
crafted things that's one of a kind. Still it's
affordable and you support the work
of an aspiring artist.

All pictures taken by Isabel H.R