Pedro Garciarias nos quiere contar:
Hoy es 25 de enero, dos semanas con borrascas, llueve sin parar y Sierra Nevada se cae de nieve! Por aquello de la sincronicidad... ayer dos experiencias, una el encuentro con el hermoso verso de Edith Piaf, "le ciel bleu sur nous peut s´effondrer..." "el cielo azul que podría derrumbarse sobre nosotros" y un poema de Paul Klee sobre las consecuencias misteriosas de irse de un lugar, ambos textos los incluiré en el Pliego de haikus de este invierno. Parecen describirme lo que ocurrió en Yegen, aquella tarde del 26 de julio cuando nos tuvimos que marchar definitivamente de la casa-estudio, el azul del cielo era tan intenso que no se podía resistir y, ah, el sol de la tarde, eran las 6.30, de un amarillo resplandeciente que sobre la fachada blanca de la casa-estudio,me dieron una impresión cromática inolvidable.Diría que deslumbrante. Una letra de Nino Bravo sobre irse de una casa..."cuando me vaya yo" y se va con el corazón cantando "largo será el camino en mi desolación..." larga carretera de casi tres horas, de Yegen a Granada capital!
The new year has already begun, and on my morning walk to the studio, I discovered the first sign of spring: under a splendid sun, yellow marigolds have opened over a green field! I stopped to look at them and give thanks.
Today is January 25th—two weeks of continuous storms, relentless rain, and Sierra Nevada is heavy with snow! Speaking of synchronicity... yesterday brought two experiences: first, encountering Edith Piaf’s beautiful line, “le ciel bleu sur nous peut s’effondrer...” (“the blue sky that could collapse above us”), and a poem by Paul Klee on the mysterious consequences of leaving a place. I will include both texts in this winter’s Haiku Folio.
They seem to describe what happened in Yegen on that afternoon of July 26th, when we had to leave the house-studio for good. The blue of the sky was so intense it was almost unbearable, and oh, the afternoon sun—it was 6:30—a brilliant yellow against the white facade of the house-studio that left an unforgettable chromatic impression on me. Dazzling, I would say.
A song lyric by Nino Bravo about leaving a home... “when I leave,” departing with a heart singing, “long will be the road in my desolation...” A long drive of nearly three hours, from Yegen to Granada city!
It’s still pouring buckets—seven consecutive storms now. I’ve managed to write new haikus, one of them about a yellow cat that started meowing desperately as the floodwaters rose.
Today is April 1st: the wisterias are open with an intense fragrance, and the orange tree is already showing its blossoms. The balcony of the house is like a multicolored garden. This morning in the studio, preparing the supports to begin painting the new garden series: “Mirror of the Garden.”
Spring continues in full force, everything in bloom and a surge of color everywhere: the pomegranate trees, rose bushes, acacias—even the clovers are in flower. Yesterday, April 21st, I finished the selection for the January exhibition, which also marked the first anniversary of the passing of our unforgettable Francisco.
I have a head full of ideas to paint. It’s still hard for me not being able to return to the house-studio/garden. Yesterday I had a terrible dream... that my garden in Yegen had been completely uprooted. How glad I was to wake up! Today, May 1st: ABSOLUTE spring! Fresh shoots on the wisterias and honeysuckles full of flowers. All the pomegranate trees in bloom! Swifts dominate the sky. I’ve discovered a splendid pianist and composer, René Alvarez Marty—he paints with his keyboard! TODAY, July 7th: the light has changed, even the color of the sky! The shadows of the trees have shifted—dazzling reds and whites!
Last night, the promised eclipse on July 12th: the sun and the moon like yin and yang, and sinking into the sea was something truly beautiful.
And autumn has finally arrived... brown and yellow, rain has fallen, and it’s cooler. The winter haikus are ready to be sent off for the Feast of St. John of the Cross.
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