Tag Archives: support

… superwoman review …

A lovely garden requires work, even if it’s only keeping constant growth in check. My soul garden is framed by many hedges and plenty of bird-loving ivory that need annual trimming to prevent a jungle. Trouble is – I’m not my strong young self anymore. I used to shift heavy objects and wield electric tools on high ladders. My ardent spirit still feels up to such tasks, but these days I’d be foolish not to accept the limits of my body, which I call ‘ little palace’ and give thanks to every day.                                                                                            

I berate myself, ‘stop acting like super woman,’ … easier said than done.

Other skills are needed, like how to find trustworthy helpers with intelligence and imagination, who respect a vulnerable person’s need? I employ a reliable trades team for the once a year hedge cutting, but finding someone for the occasional help is a challenge.

I asked my local council once, if they can recommend a person to do the occasional gardening. They sent me an octogenarian, wobbling precariously on a high ladder, with his 12 year old nephew to help. They did a terrible job at a price way above any professional landscape firm.  

Opportunists are plenty, though my local repair café, staffed by volunteers, proves to me there are generous people out there, with amazing skills, offering to fix things. I dearly bless them.

Finding genuine help is something that concerns many of us, at one time or another, women and men. The world is not geared for the redundant, or the in any way disadvantaged.

Just wondering, dear reader, if you rely on support for strenuous manual jobs, if you’re not swimming in money, how do you deal with getting practical help?

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… among anxieties, a few duende events …

Beginning of June, I had a first visit from my son after nine months not seeing him in person due to the corona lock down, though he lives only an hour away in London. Of late, he is also consumed by the costly bureaucratic process of sorting his late father’s estate in Holland. Over the two days of his presence, his pragmatic, hands-on approach accomplished many tasks in house and garden that were beginning to overwhelm me. Working together in perfect flow and harmony, the accumulated weight on my shoulders vanished as if by magic.

The weekend after, I enjoyed a first small gathering of friends in my garden since two years. By luck, it happened to be on one of those rare warm evenings when it was possible to sit comfortably outside until midnight, among lanterns and candlelight. We relaxed into long-missed story times, and the evening was altogether bliss.

Earlier in June, I experienced many sleepless nights, since I was suddenly urged to apply for the UK settlement scheme, or lose all rights, despite the fact that I had leave to remain here indefinitely since the 1980s, in fact, been living, working and studying here for many decades. I needed support from the citizen advice bureau, since I’m irrationally scared of online forms, and the process was indeed complex (I feel deep gratitude for the volunteers at the CAB.)

I only have a simple emergency mobile, but nowadays it is assumed that everyone owns the newest gadgets and is a techno whiz kid. Anyway, it seems my application was successful. We’ll see if border guards let me back into the UK after a trip abroad in times to come, in whatever future that might happen. I do miss seeing my friends in Europe.

The next challenges lie ahead. For the first time in years my car has not passed the MOT (annual motor test) and will need expensive repairs. Dentist work ahead, computer is due for a clean-up, and I need to safe money for the annual hedge trimming that requires wielding machines on high ladders. While I work hard on clearing and grass cutting, enjoying the physical activity, I’ve decided, wisely, not doing heavy machines on high ladders anymore.
But heck, the peonies have survived the rain so far and the blues are coming. I dare hope more duende events are waiting, and wish them for my readers, too.

I wrote something about duende four years ago, with a link to Garcia Lorca’s wonderful article on duende. Goethe called it the mysterious force that everyone feels but no philosopher has explained.


Still struggling here with the new wordpress format, though I discovered the Toggle blog inserter under the + sign. Now I must find out how to wrap text around smaller images 🙂

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… book pages let loose …

A few days ago, waking at dawn, I had retained a dream vision:

I saw the entire content of my novel, Course of Mirrors, 400 pages in all, displayed on one huge panel.  Astonished, I pondered how this expansion graphically showed that writing a novel involves massive work, time, and fierce motivation.

To put this into context, I must add I lacked motivation and confidence for some time now, having to deal with existential problems.

The 21.5 cm height and a 13.5 cm width of each page poured out onto a single panel would create a near 100 meter high and 52 meter wide installation.

Even if the panel size were halved by using front and back, it’s still a crazy idea – right?

Maybe the dimension of Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall could suffice, but only a Turner price gets you there. In case you don’t know, the Turbine Hall is the place that allowed visitors to touch the sun, like my son did during an Olafur Eliasson’s weather project exhibition a few years ago.

As regards my high-rise panel of book pages, any visitors keen to engage in reading could only do so at average eye levels, unless they had means to levitate. Now that would be another idea.

Well, imagination being such fun, I played on.

Much smaller double-sided panels could each display the pages of one of the 29 chapters, broken up into moments, occasionally interspersed with slivers of mirrors, where the body of a reader flits by, or maybe images that enhance or contradict the mood of a scene. You enter the story by stepping into a cave-like enclosure. The text on panels is lit from within, not spreading much light, to achieve a twilight experience, which was done in caves long, long, long ago, with the imprints of hands.

This cave could be entered from four sides. One may choose to start at the end and read the story backwards, or wander through and pick chapters randomly, more in the way one reads poetry. In any case, the title image at each entry/exit gate would evoke an enchanting journey at the edge of consciousness, between rational and the mystical states.

Normally, a writer’s work is condensed and hidden between the neat covers of a book, or captured on e-book screens, one click by one click. The concept of spreading the pages out in real space fascinates me, and ideas keep tumbling in. Like making the text respond to the concentration of the reader, or the lack, in which case sentences would ripple, as if floating on water.

Intrigued by this vision of visitors wandering through the chapters of my novel, I thought of the remarkable characters, all archetypal part-mirrors of me, of you, of anyone really.

How if readers could scan a paragraph about one character, place it on an empty panel and temporarily type a scene of their own imagination about that character?

If you feel the fun and have any additional ideas, please share them here.

What I like about the interactive setup, is the random strolling. Just while writing this post I opened my novel at an arbitrary page and hit on a romantic instant after Ana met her first love. He gives her a heart-shaped ruby as a promise – half a page at the end of chapter six. Here the excerpt …

Luke dropped the jewel back into my palm and pressed my hands close. “You’re the true heart for me. We’ll meet again. We’ll journey together.”  He glanced at the travel-ready troupe, waiting for him. “I won’t fasten the chain round your neck, though I’d love to.” His face was close enough for me to catch the scent of his hair, the pond, grass, wood smoke and musk. I longed to touch his lips, steal and take along his smile.

“How can I contact you?”

“Find a messenger to deliver a note to Tatum and his Magic Theatre. His troupe is getting known along the river.”

I felt drawn into the loop of his mysterious fate. I wanted to be held, forget myself in his arms. Instead, I stared at my feet, pondering this indelible moment of intimacy and suddenly dreaded the journey ahead – without him.

Last week Course of Mirrors had a lovely review by Cath Humphris, which I’m pleased to share:

https://cathum.wordpress.com/2020/01/13/course-of-mirrors-an-odyssey-by-ashen-venema/

A magical tale, in which a young woman embarks on a hazardous search for The Real.

Since I have presently no way of realising my crazy interactive vision, you can only enter the world of my novel condensed in its covers, here: Courseofmirrors  This Troubador page connects to other platforms, too. Then again, any bookshop can order the novel.

The image on the left was an early cover idea from authonomy days, not used in the end.

For the time being I’m having a hard time surviving, which hinders my deepening edit for the sequel to Course of Mirrors … Shapers … from which I share some chapters on my Patreon page. If it is within your means, and you can tolerate or even like struggling fools, please support my creative spirit on Patreon. Here the link.

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=10520241

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