symbiotic relationships – Nureyev and Fontaine
December 7, 2009
yesterday I posted an image of one of the most powerfully beautiful images of the male form. It belonged to Nureyev. What took me along that path was researhing old leather panelling. One of Nureyev’s numerous homes had a room lined out in it, very sumptous interior, exotic, lavish, just like him. i read his autobiography a couple of years ago, what a man………..
I also came across a docudrama advertised and watched it on iplayer, the relationship between himself and Margot Fonteyn. Their presence was electric, their passionate romance was clear to see in their dance, their symbiotic moves, like their relationship was as enriching for them as it was to everyone who watched them. His raw passion, his exotic background, his youth, his strength and determination fired her with a renewed vigour for her dance at a time when she was just about to retire. Nureyev said about her “At the end of Lac des Cygnes when she left the stage in her great white tutu I would have followed her to the end of the world” and he did. Margot, twenty years older and already married, their physical relationship eventually struggled and came to an end when margot made the decision to retire and nurse her then invalid husband at their Panama farm. They danced again one more time after this in 1989, when she was 69 and Nureyev 54. There emotional symbiosis lasted until she died of cancer at the the age of 72 in 1991.
Nureyev continued to be a legend in his own lifetime, his tempestous, lavish lifestyle, his amazing vitality and fame continued. However in the 80′s this began to wain, displeasing audiences with his less than perfect performances. Aids had probably began to take its toll, he denied it though and wouldn’t admit to having it right up to his death at the age of 56 in 1993 , 2 years after Margot’s death. Knowing how they lived for each other, no decisions were made without each others approval, he talked to her weekly, paid her medical bills, visited her in Panama, did he give up his fight for life after her death, could he no longer survive without her? I wonder?
Three pairs of hands make light work
August 3, 2009
Sunday, what a fabulous day, Kirsty and Yao came over and we cut paper together all around the table!! Enriching in everyway, the bonus being we made an ocean of flowers together. Each flower so unique, cut out, folded, crimped , moulded and shaped so lovingly, all by hand and with love. The persepex boxes are going to be full of so much more than flowers!
For lunch we ate a tasty roast chicken, roast butternut squash and parsnips and courgettes and french beans from Kirsty’s garden, and ended the day by watching an incredible film called MAN ON A WIRE, a guy that against all odds walked on a wire strung between the topmost points of the world trade centres twin towers back in the 70′s. Amazing footage.
All in all a really lovely day
Flickr: Your Photostream.
I will not die an unlived life
January 12, 2009
In the summer of 2008 I spent a magical weekend with friends at Glastonbury, Isle of Avalon.
During the weekend I was read this poem, it really touched me, at that time I had drawn a whole series of sketches, one seemed to illustrate these words perfectly…………. what do you think? The poem is by Dawna markova, a lady who has single handedly changed the live of so many. see her blog at http://dawnamarkova.blogspot.com/
I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
growing seeds
January 2, 2009
After I finished my coffee, my toast and marmalade this morning, I felt inspired to cut some more paper!!! This time in white inpired by the vision of a tummy bursting with an abundance of new growth, love and creative energy.
