artversussport

2011-01-01T20:18:00.000Z

My hand has five fingers

2010-11-29T22:27:00.005Z

My hand has five fingers - One for each goal.

It seemed like Real Madrid wanted to play a two - two against Barça, to take them at their own game.
Surprising by playing offensively, as everyone expected them to park the bus and play at the counter.
It failed, Madrid were parted in three, with no coherence at all. Lost.
Barça totally dominated the game, until Pep did a Mou, provoking C Ronaldo by doing a dirty trick, which resulted in a bit of a brawl.
The game Real Madrid and Mourinho´s teams are so good at, and a game Barça almost always looses. Until the first half ended Barça seemed frustrated, tense and lost the ball easily.
Messi did a bit of theatre, Barça seemed frustrated, tense and lost the ball easily.
I thought that Mourinho would have done a brawl in the dressing room, provoking his players to go out there and eat the grass.
With revenge, to show they had balls. But no.
Barça had it in their hands, playing the ball with almost the need to embarrass Real Madrid. They were out to humiliate them.
Hungry like wolfs, running like tigers, strong as elephants and neat like cockroaches.

I have never seen Mourinho so silent, frustrated and impotent.

Ps. I think Xavi deserves the Ballon d´Or and the Fifa World Player. Such an instrumental piece both for Barcelona and the Spanish national team.

Ps 2. I recommend this article
this article by Sid Lower

World Cup staccato

2010-06-23T18:08:00.002+01:00

Yes - my French friends talk of a need for drama. When there is
nothing left to hope for all we have is drama.
I am starting to acquire a huge interest in the person of Domenec.
How come he has managed the team for all those years? How can a person
get it all so wrong? Is his astrology chart spooking him?
How can a person in a certain power be so abysmal?
He is just plainly mad, it is amusing to see such an unstable,
emotional, insane person in a power position.
It´s all such a mystery.
I would love to read a psychological report of Demenec.
What a fascinating read.
No irony there.

France is a team I theoretically like.
I like its multi ethnicity.
I like my French friends.
I like some French films.
But I don´t like the nationalism of its Sarkozy/Le Pen supporters.
Which is the whole reason we so applauded the class of 98.

England - Once again the fall of a build up will be harsh, cold and
hard. There is something I don´t dislike about Capello. Could it be
his love of the arts? Probably not as I am sure we don´t share the
same taste.
It´s not the discipline, authority he imposes that I like.
What is it then?
Who knows.
I do know though that I dislike the vulgarity of its fake bling bling
squeamie players.
Bling bling without the african exotism is not too exciting.
An exotims that is a result of a white person looking from the distance.
The results of years living in Hackney.
I should be ashamed of my white "poshy" posture. But I am not.
I love the posture of Didier Drogba, strotting like a horse, with his
chest forward.
The tight orange shirt against the sweat of his body.
The cockiness about him. I do like. Yes.
Could it be the pleasure of the Leni Riefenstahl beauty.
The perfection of the mixture of the Nubu bodies and the Greek statue
like bodies in her Olympia photographs.
The perfection of beauty.
The perfection of athletism.
Oh yes.

Oh how I miss Togo and Mali, the other two african nations worthy of
the Leni Riefenstahl stamp.

This World cup is all about blandness, there is such a lack of blood,
beauty and eroticism.
There is nothing exciting about Algeria, Serbia and Denmark.
Even Maradona is not capable of "sexing it up" (in reference of the
Gordon Brown sexing up of the Iraq inquiry). Maradona was much more
interesting, fascinating when he was on the verge of a heart attack in
the stands, with his daughter standing next to him in total
embarrassment.

Also I am still in search of a team to support.
I just don´t care that much this year.

Read the great essay by Susan Sontag (a complement to my Nubu / Olympia theory).
Fascinating Fascism

Less of a painting more of a making

2010-06-23T10:04:00.015+01:00

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

Listen to the song. A song about the process of painting.

The Factory of Roca Fannberg
The factory Roca Fannberg is not comparing itself to Andy Warhol´s factory, there are two similarites though. It is all about quantity, rather than quality and the process is much like colour by numbers.
Patience is an important factor. Time is not.
The important thing is to allow the paint to dry before you start painting the next layer and that is why it´s important to work on as many as possible. While on dries, you work on the next one. In that way I can do 10 in one afternoon.
Factory, not quality.

When I paint it is as simple as finding images with similar colours.
Once you have done that it is simply down to colouring by numbers. First a lighter tone and while that tone dries you do another picture and another and another.
Or as many watercolour blocks as I own. If I own 3 blocks I do 3 paintings at the same time, if I own seven then I do seven at the same time.

I am extremely meticulous when it comes down to painting torsos, packets and shirts (not suits). With my eyes pierced trying to get it right. If it goes wrong I can be in a foul mood for weeks (or until the next painting session).
But when it comes to the background there is no planning at all.
Just allowing the colours to play with each other, leaning the paper in one direction then another, while blowing a little bit. It is about the chance factor. Leaving random factors to decide.

Here are some watercolours from one session.
As I have not found titles for them yet, you are welcome to come with suggestions.

In a year of 13 moons

2010-06-16T07:14:00.001+01:00

This is one of my favourite scenes of all times. There are almost no words to describe it and I am not going there.

Each time I see this film I have to go for hour long silent walks.

Insanity or Artists

2010-06-14T17:50:00.005+01:00

This is a "fake" conversation or it might not be.
I leave it for you to decide.

Mother (M) - Do you know you have a mother?
Daughter (D) - Yes, I might have more than one.
M - Oh
D - What can I do for you? As I know something is behind this conversation. (Yesterday I had an email asking me to get on Skype).
M - You know those threads I use.
D - No. You use thousands of different threads.
M- Yes, but...
D - Can we talk in a couple of days on skype, as I am busy.
M - What are you busy with?
D - Well I do work sometimes you know. I am working on my things, no need to get into details.
M - Oh. Don´t you know there is Christmas coming up?
D - Is this a threat for me to not get any Christmas presents.
M - Yes. I need a black thread. Can I use your VAT number?
D - Well I am not sneaking on the Icelandic government in need, and with your best friend as a minister. No way. We won´t be able to borrow the car. Who will give me seabirds, fish, keep my superior blueberries in their freezer.
M - But the doctor´s in Sweden buy freezers on "their companies".
D - Is this thread so important. I mean I thought someone had died on something.
M - This is much more important than death. This is life.
D - Aha. Thanks for teaching me a few things about life.
M - Well I need this thread. Do you know how to use Google? Is Google not your friend?
D - But I am sure you know how to use Google?
M - No that is the thing.
D - Sometimes playing stupid does not work. At least in my world.
M - But...
D - Don´t you have two sons who live with you. Is it not their duty? Did you not tell them that Christmas is approaching?
M - They are too lazy and useless. I tried to threaten them, but they just don´t care.
D - Are you saying I am more materialistic?
M - Yes.
D - Ok, but I want a new scarf, in the colours I choose. I want one of those things, that is not a scarf and not a woolie hat, but can work as both. Like the white one I have.
M - Are you trying to buy me?
D - Yes. Remember the colours I choose.
M - Ok ok. As long as you get me this black thread.

On a different note.
The World Cup has started.
At the beginning of the year I conducted a research on the Seychelles islands. It is made by professionals and with an extereme attention to detail. Maximum rigorisity.
Below you can see a sample of the results (Click on the image to enlarge it).

From Beauty to Hell

2010-04-26T12:26:00.009+01:00

Just a note, that I have not taken any of the photos, mostly screen shots of newspapers, or from other websites.

I am so scared I am so brave

2010-03-19T06:09:00.003Z

I am so scared I am so brave

Memory and dignity

2010-02-28T21:22:00.002Z

I saw a spirit

2009-07-08T00:07:00.006+01:00

The other day me and my brother went to see my grandmother. She was looking for a singing pen, to give us. She is kind of old and memory is failing, some of you might remember from previous posts that she has broken her hips three times, but she still dances ( a funny dance) and pops around.

To look for the pen she bent down on her knees to look, but the memory of where the pen was was gone.
She just said that it was alright, as Kaialong would come to help her.
That Kaialong knew where it was. I asked who he was. "The Indian". She was still on her knees in a fixed position, I asked if he was here with us, if he was of our time. "No no he has many centuries behind him".
Me and my brother remained quiet.
Suddenly I felt something, just something and I could see a decisive look in my grandmother eyes.
A second later the pen was in her hands.

On our way to the car me and my brother mentioned this - we kind of were in shock.
We had both noticed that something.

Ps. I am not being ironic or anything.

Behind there is a spirit, watercolour on paper, 2009.

the space between, watercolour on paper, 2009.

Oh Lord, don´t forget me, watercolour on paper, 2009

While Barça were winning our third Champions

2009-06-03T00:20:00.009+01:00

Bóndastúlkan (the farm girl), Manchester, Liverpool, Arsenal and Barcelona

While Barça were playing in the final against Manchester United, I was in Flatey, where there is very slow internet connection and no cable television (and the game was not broadcasted on national television).
I admit I tried to forget about the game, but it proved difficult. Shortly after Eto´o scored the first goal I decided enough was enough. I needed some peace and quiet and good karma. I went to see the lambs, feed them their bottle, give them grass and just talk to them.
There used to be a male sheep called Eidur Smari, he is not alive anymore. His sister however is, and she is the mother of Arsenal. The little lamb Arsenal.

Arsenal

Barcelona

Liverpool

Now what?

2009-03-04T09:25:00.004Z

Falling, watercolour on paper, 2009.

Barça have taken a slump around the same time as Davíð Oddsson is gone, finally the three most demands of the Icelandic people have gone through. Buy buy government, buy buy Davíð Oddsson and buy buy the heads of the financial regulations.
It is a strange situation, with the election looming and I fear that they have managed to make the public belief in the "leftish-monster" and the votes will go the same way as always to Sjálfstæðisflokkurinn (Independence party), but oh no, let´s be positive. The human nature is capable of learning. Or...
The spring is almost around the corner, we can now enjoy the snowy streets slightly longer as it starts to bright up around nine and is dark around seven. What a change from the cold long dark days of November and December. I will always remember them as kuldi kreppa og myrkur (cold, crisis and darkness).
It has not been an awful winter for me, I have been able to concentrate on what I need to concentrate on with moments of crisis of course, but moments of crisis is what makes one able to progress.

I would like to apply that to Barça. I refuse to belief in el cagometro, the shit metre, that Real Madrid are there to get us. That they will win the league in the end. I think the blimp is partly to do with concentration, of believing a job was done, but also with fatigue, more mental than physical. It is easier said than done, to have top mentality for two games a week, that fatigue is resulting in less pressure on the opposite team and a delay in decisions (passes, shots, tackles).

But spring is around the corner and my belief is intact. (I tell myself)

There is always hope to fall upon, watercolour on paper, 2009.

1983

2009-02-13T09:41:00.005Z

Blood of a soldier, watercolour on paper, 2009.

Laugardalsvöllur, Reykjavík, Iceland 29/05/1983

A qualifier for the European Championship.

Scenery - The national stadium of Iceland
Participants - Spanish national team, Icelandic national team, little girl, some spanish exiles, a lot of curious Icelandic's, some mad football freaks and some nationalistic Spanish freaks, spanish father.

Props - Football ball, Icelandic flags, Barça flag, ice creams, lines men and a referee, seagull, TV.
The game started, it was an important one, giving the Icelandic team some hope for qualifying the first time for the European Championship, while Spain would have one foot in the finals taking place the next year.
The weather as expected was cold, wet and windy. It was a classic game between a small team and a bigger team, where one destroys and the other constructs. The fans were scattered throughout the stadium and ambience was high and noisy.
The little girl had a rucksack with some snacks and a Barça flag. The flag had been given to her by her father who was hoping to see his little girl on the television far away in Catalunya. The girl was fiddling with her flag waiting for the moment to take it up and making herself known to the outside world. It stayed in the bag for the whole of the first half, with the father scanning the supporters for a sign. One has to remember that this was well before the moment of immediate technology so one had to hope on promises being kept and not having to leave the room of the television at the magical moment. Spain scored the only goal and the moment seemed to be the moment. But the girl froze, hesitated for a moment, while looking at the other fans. Suddenly she noticed some Spanish fans next to her who talked so loudly and seemed so aggressive and plainly quite dangerous. Suddenly the memory of difficult relations between Catalans and Spaniards became vivid and even the little girl got scared that these Spaniards would not appreciate such an act of nationalism on foreign ground, so the flag stayed neatly in the rucksack as did the father looking into the distant television.

Structuring unreality, watercolour on paper, 2009.

Áfram Ísland

2009-01-26T15:10:00.003Z

Patria, 2009.

Finally someone has taken the responsibility for the actions that put us in this shit.
The government has now ruptured, finally. I seriously hope that some measures will be taken, more than 100 days after the fall of the entire banking system. It is a strange feeling that the Independence party is not in power. I sincerely believe that nothing can be as bad as the former existing government. The left green party warned in 2005 against the danger of the over bloating finance system. Obviously no one listened.
I want Davíð Oddson away, the former prime minister and now the head of the central bank. The very man who sold off the banks. I also want to see frozen assets of the men (they were mainly men) who put the country into this mess. Remember that experts say that even if there would be no global crisis, Iceland would have gone bankrupt. It is not about that liquidity was suddenly scarce. It is about that they were wheeling and dealing illegally, with suspected corruption and a certain lawlessness.
I heard yesterday that the man who was one of the brains to Icesave is now head of the internal investigation of Landsbanki (one of the banks that the state took over). Yes the very same people who got the country in the mess are still in their jobs. The wealing and dealing men are still wealing and dealing.
I just hope to see a healthier Iceland, more aware and conscious about future generations.

There is hope

2009-01-22T16:57:00.006Z

Female control, 2009.

Ten Reasons I want a change
1. The same people who slept deeply during the viking outrage are not capable of taking the country out of the mess.
2. There won´t be any investigations while those are in power.
3. I suspect that there is serious corruption behind the curtains.
4. The arrogance of the country´s leaders.
5. They call us skríl, a pejorative of a person.
6. The same accountants that approved the accounts of the bank are investigating the banks.
7. Davíð Oddson is still head of the central bank.
8. No assets of those 38 vikings have been frozen.
9. IMF.
10. They totally neglected all signs that it was just a plain bubble and called everyone jealous who told them of the risks (foreign or non-foreign)

The protests have grown rowdier and rowdier. No people have not forgotten, they were not going to.
After the Christmas holiday, the governments first point at the agenda, was if beer should be sold in corner shops or not. What an insult.

There have been almost non-stop protests in front of the parliament, with pots and pans and eggs and paint. People from all classes and ages have been attending. The people are just seriously fed up.

Last night the Social democrats (in coalition with the right party) held a meeting, where elections were discussed. The protests stood outside the National theatre (where the meeting was held) and sang the government out (no eggs, no paint). Finally the news came that yes, they want a rupture and yes they want to call elections some time this spring.

Ps. I want to mention one thing to be proud of, while the protesters were singing and banging outside the parliament, there was a funeral in the church next door and the protesters stood quiet for half an hour in respect of the family. Is that what you call a skríl. I hope the government has understood that this is the people, this is the nation. And we want a change.

I do not though want to celebrate anything yet, as I want to see that rupture and I want to see those elections.

And last of all - I seriously hope the nation won´t vote the same incapable idiots again.

Modern soldiers, watercolour on paper, 2008

You can see pictures of the demonstration
here
and here

Icesave Iceslave

2009-01-20T21:09:00.005Z

Another great phrase I saw at the demonstration last saturday.
It seems the protest is intensifying, after several peaceful meeting the heat is certainly up.
For more detailed explanation I recommend this
Iceland-Dori
I seriously have difficulties understanding that our government is still there.
They look more corrupt for each day, same people, who got us in the shit.

Falling, 2009.

Tomorrow Barcelona Espanyol. I certainly hope we will beat them and I have no regrets if we beat them, really beat them. Espanyol is not a team I am particularly fond of, mainly because of their cry baby attitude and their fans, who booed their own goalkeeper Kameni (he is black).

The January blues is almost over, there is more and more hours of sun and the air has been really crisp. I just have to get myself out of town to see the Northern lights.
Good news is that I am going to Flatey in march. To collect seaweed.

Ground control, 2009.

Helvítis Fokking Fokk

2009-01-19T16:14:00.007Z

She lost control.

The greatest phrase of the Icelandic kreppa (crisis) and it could refer to the Icelandic situation or the situation in Gaza, which I truly condemn.
Perhaps it is a bit indulgent, but I am referring to these paintings. That there is no success without failure. Or at least so do I hope. I tried so hard to make them work, perhaps I will make a last attempt. In the future. For now I just say Helvítis Fokking Fokk!!!

No success without failure

Trying too hard

From 2008 - 2009

2009-01-05T16:01:00.007Z

The death of a former giant, 2009

2008 ended with the same thing as 2009 started, the smell of fireworks. I love the fireworks in Iceland, not the organised, methodic exhibition that occurs in other countries, but the chaotic, anarchic and individual fireworks of each household. Rocketing into the sky. One after another, you never know where to look or where to jump. It simply comes from each and one direction. This year it seem to be a much more subtle affair, only lasting for about 30 minutes, with the peak between midnight and fifteen minutes past midnight. Last year, it was meant to be less as there was a slight storm, but no. It was a total bombardment for about one hour. The noise was incredible, like the bird Kríur at an attack. My brother Magnús, said it sounded just like Palestina. I remember Jón Ásgeir shot up constantly with boxes full of them. I guess and hope that this year he was a bit quiter. Jón Ásgeir for those who might not know is one of the biggest villain of this crisis, a man that should be in jail, for continuously breaking the law in Iceland. Somehow he is not. People have seen him as a heroe, until now. He is the former owner of Glitnir (amongst others), and Baugur Group (the House of Fraser, Magasin du Nord etc). Enough of him. I just say he does not forget the sugar in the cookies (a classic comment in my home).

Frustration of a young man, 2009

On one of the first days of January, I experienced something I never had experienced before, and somehow kind of wanted to experience. The last ten minutes of a life. The hands reaching out, either grasping life or trying to enter the next level (although I am not sure I believe in that stuff). I will never forget the look in the eyes as death approached. The colour of the skin, the mouth, my own non sensations as I stopped to sense anything. Perhaps I am a pervert and I really would like to film someone I love dying, but it has to be someone who wants to go, who has had enough of life (as that moment might happen), enough of experiences and is just tired of life. Where death becomes a relief. I hope you meet your loved ones again, or that you are able to follow your loved ones in life. I sometimes think that I have angels following me (yes it sounds cheesy), but I am somehow quite lucky in many senses and I think I know who my angels are.

Rebirth, 2009

This year I am going to go to a fortune teller, there is a famous one, called Óli Draugur, Óli the ghost. I doubt I will talk about what happens there. I am scared, but also prepared. For 2009

I got new watercolour pans, lovely and I had to try them out, even if I should be doing something else. Here is the result. My favourite themes; sexy bodies and fragility.

Nipples, 2009

Barça, they continue with this conviction they left 2008 with.

Aiming high for the future, 2009

i am a mess, you are a mess, they are a mess, everyone is a mess, 2009
The only thing I am content with in this particular watercolour is its title.

Resurrection, 2009

El clásico

2008-12-30T12:42:00.006Z

Evil against good

STOP (any method valid)

Make your mother proud

STOP

Two against one

Hopefully more will follow, I got some new colours, so exciting times ahead...

Anecdotes

2008-12-23T15:21:00.003Z

Anecdotes from Iceland
Edition of 50, printed on to the cheapest grey paper, put in an airmail envelope.
2007

Anecdotes from a hospital
Edition of 50, printed on to the cheapest beige paper, put in a brown b5 envelope.
2008

Busy week

2008-12-17T00:44:00.004Z

Prelude to battle

I have not had time to paint any new pictures, busy preparing Christmas and working on my film, which is slowly slowly going somewhere even if that somewhere is nowhere near where I want it.
Some people might have heard of my grandmother.
The one who is in touch with pixies, elfs, but not hobgoblins.
The one we believe was Napoleon in her former life and the one that can be funny, but can be annoying.
The only person in Iceland who seems to like Davíð Oddsson, the head of the central bank. My dear Davíð, like she calls him.
A while ago she asked for a Liverpool picture, as she had read in the paper that a young boy who was dying of cancer was taken to see a Liverpool game by the Icelandic supporter club. It was one of his last dreams. She wanted to give the supporter club, that was later created in his memory a picture.

I am not sure if it is too "erotic" for them, or...

Next on for painting, are pictures from el clásico, I already have them in mind.
Violence and sexuality.

Entangled

Ghost appearances

The Final ecstasy

2008-12-14T13:49:00.004Z

It had to be in the last minutes of the game. Samuel Eto´o who loves little more than scoring against his old club, the club invited him to Europe as a fifteen year old, the club who forgot to pick him up at the airport when he arrived in shorts on a snowy winter day.

Madrid were kind of in control of the game and I admit that I just knew that they would score in the final minutes. They were Madrid. It would have been so typical. Playing like a Logroñes or another team who aspires to little more glory than get a point against the big teams.

Barcelona were anxious, too anxious. It had all been about revenge and as we all know revenge is not a very constructive word or action. They tried and tried, but Madrid marked Barça´s main men very well, with legal and border line tackles.

Messi received three hars tackles on his ankles in the first minutes. And so it continued until in the final minutes when Eto´o scored from a corner. Yes a corner, Barcelona have scored from more corners in twelve games than previous two years.

In they dying minute Messi scored a beautiful goal that sent 98 000 spectators into an ecstatic frenzy.

I walked home through the snow with a sweet sense of victory.

Hopefully it is only the beginning.

I leave two extracts from Cadena Ser - a Madrid based radio station.
Paintings to follow.

First goal

Second goal

Last time

2008-12-08T12:46:00.004Z

Last time Barcelona met Real Madrid I watched it, we all knew what would happen, but I decided to watch it and be in front of the television on time. On time to see one of the greatest humiliations in recent times (external humiliation, some would say fictitious humiliation). I wanted to watch el pasillo, when Barcelona were forced to clap their and my eternal enemy on to the pitch. To congratulate them on the title. The title we were never in the race for. Not only that hurt, but what came after was equally painful. I can´t remember the result, I can´t remember the game. I just know it was painful. In order to never ever forget. Almost like the most awful human causes and actions I decided to paint el pasillo. I never wanted to forget, I wanted that moment to be stamped in, rubbed in. It is something I simply do not want ever to live through. Again. (at least not for some time). Some moments have to be worked through, go through their psychoanalytical cycle to become something else.

I am not sure what will happen next week, worst case scenario 6 points ahead, best case scenario 12 points ahead. Real Madrid arrive wounded, hurt. It only remains to be seen if they have the strength to rise above or if they will sink further.

News from a Frozen Island called Iceland

2008-12-01T16:52:00.005Z

Here is a blog by someone in Iceland

Dori

Love the picture of the woman sitting outside the parlament with her dog.
Our parlament is so tiny. Ha ha ha.
I went in there the other day to pick up car keys from my mother´s friend who is not in the government, but in
the parlament

So many people are attending. almost 10 000 a week ago, last saturday only about 4-5000, it was minus four. I was working.

Now people have invaded the central bank, demanding explanations.
We have accepted IMF´s loan. Apparently to strengthen the krona, to allow it to fall further.
Shame shame shame.

On mondays there are citizens meetings. There have been three. I have attended two. On the last one they demanded that the government show up.
They felt forced to after failing to attend previous two. Had to answer questions. it was packed out of the door and
broadcast live on television. I spoke to someone in the hospital, an old man. He thinks they should or we should have elections.
It was quite an experience to be there. To look in to people´s face. it was fairly civilized, but oh they are angry. Middle aged woman so disgusted by the situation.

yes in a way we could see it coming. But how complaisant human beings can be. Now it is looming them in the face and I guess people won´t forget, like with wars in a far away country, as they are reminded each month.

Jón Ásgeir, one of the big business man here, if not the biggest one is offering people to do their christmas shopping interest free for six months in his supermarket Hagkaup. Buy on credit. Has been the motto of this tiny island for so long.

On the other hand, I am having trouble with a hoblegoblin.
First he hid a mini dv tape, now he has hidden one woolie sock. Not sure what I can do to get in touch.
I had a shower, wore woolie socks before the shower. Not in the shower.
Then suddenly it was not there, only one of the pair. So strange. It is a thick thick sock.
So difficult to just disappear.
On my night shift last night I was hearing stories from a farm.
Weird ones. How things just moved. Only two woman living on the farm.
they are definetely being tricked by this hoble goble.

In the cow house there is a wooden stick, really heavy, suddenly with only one person in the cow house, it had travelled 6 metres.
Uphill...

One woman was riding on a horse, just before a crossroad she saw a man with four horses. White horses.
He looked old and was the old man from the next farm. When the woman arrived to the crossroad the man just disappeared. With the four horses. She later spoke to the son, who said strange - my father has not gone horseriding this year at all.
And last year another man told me of exactly the same story about my dad, seeing him with four white horses in the same place.

Hobgoblins are fun, but they can make you slightly squizoid.

The dark cold long crisis winter

2008-11-18T08:53:00.004Z

Together

These are notes, notes of thought, written without any depth. I probably contradict myself and upon better thought.
First of all Iceland - what did I wake up to? I think it is obviously mostly the politicians, the bankers and the so called control agency to blame. But honestly almost everyone I know has been living to an excess. "I have 20 jumpers, but none is yellow, so I bought one dark yellow and one mustardy yellow jumper". Including myself. We are living in times of a total consumption, even cultural consumption. Or perhaps we are just hamstering for worse times. I fear that all this will lead to a patriotism without any criticisms. It is not like Iceland is not a proud nation. It was interesting to be abroad as an Icelander in the middle of the storm. Suddenly it was not WOW, but ooooooohhhh. Not Björk anymore, but poor little pathetic nation. Fifty days after the crash no one has taken any decisions and it seems that nothing at all is done or will done. We will just sail into oblivion.
Ahead of us is the long dark cold crisis winter.
But I fear nothing.

Untitled heroes
What I do fear though is Nóra. I have found the best christmas present of them all. In a test glass you put shit (if you are totally fearless) or a piece of cloth is contaminated with this little virus. You can use it against the person you hate the most. Spread it all over them, touch them with it and they will fall down like a shot bird. Vomits and diarreah for a week. Marvellous weapon. Or you can use it as a tool to loose weight. Perhaps if you can get hold of them, you can use it against the prime minister, the "so called" head of the central bank or alike monsters.

A pleasure light at the back of the dark tunnel is Barcelona. We will have to wait what happens in December, when they meet Valencia, Sevilla and Real Madrid. There seems to be a togetherness that was there in the two marvellous years of Rijkaard. They grind their teeth and show a believe and a willing to win and to please that I feel proud of. I love my team to work for a beautiful victory. Patriotism aside, it does make me proud to have that many homegrown players. Valdés, Pique, Puyol, Busquets, Iniesta, Xavi, Bojan and Messi. Please make my winter.

United against the enemy

Excitement

2008-10-29T21:26:00.003Z

Faceless, but not soulless

I have rarely been so excited lately, a perverse kind of excitement. The news. Iceland frantic cleaning up vomits. More on that later though, to keep something for the future. Hold the hands of your children and just wait.

Barcelona.
They seem to be scoring more goals than ever. I have missed them all, saw some over a broken line in Portugal, but they looked clinical, intuitive, forceful.
I have to say I am not too convinced of Guardiola, as a person. There is something in there that make me feel that he is a bit too arrogant, but so far the results and more than that is in his wind. I guess I am too sentimental and hurt that Rijkaard´s way did not work out. For me it was almost a blow to humanity. That one can´t just allow people and trust in people´s own dignity. The rise and fall of the ego. Impossible to control and when you try it is simply too late. He had to go, I agree that, but I can´t help but feel disappointed that it was a way that is incompatible with football at the highest level. To allow people to choose, the non-authoritative way.
I guess I was naive.

Rijkaard and his lonely shadow

2008-09-29T12:23:00.004+01:00

Enjaulado (jailed)

Come to me

Don´t cry on my shoulder

For some reason I am not too obessessed with arranging my life according to the games of Barcelona, like I did more than a year ago. I feel that somehow they have to prove that it is worthwhile adjusting my schedule. I used to be obsessed, I used to arrange my dinner parties according to when Barcelona plays. But not know. Let´s hope for the good of ones health that it changes. To what it was like a couple of years ago.

Ps. The last watercolour (don´t cry on my shoulder) should have the MY pronounced loud. I was not that happy about those two at the time and I think you can see it in the effort and love I did not put into the picture.

Perhaps my favourite place on earth

2008-09-22T15:59:00.006+01:00

The village of Flatey. I have recently stayed there, but my memories remain with the farmer. My favourite farmer. The farmer who used to live by herself, for many many years. One house, who are not her friends and a boat that arrives once a week.

It was always my dream as a kid to drive one of those. It was my dream to live between sheeps and cows. Be one of them. But... I became a city kid.

Never ever touch these eggs, the owners are one incredibly aggressive. I was attacked by one. No not close to the egg. the sound of Krían is although very very impressive. The amount of sound they make. Not among my favourite birds.

This is so so Bergmanesque - it reminds me of a scene of the Seventh Seal.
I was baptised there by a very drunken priest, who lived on the mainland.

Exhibition Barcelona - 18 Sep - 14 Nov

2008-09-18T08:57:00.008+01:00

Poster Exhibition (made by Santiago)

Poetry

In total ecstasy (sexual)

Annoyed figure

In Culturas, La Vanguardia

2008-09-10T07:53:00.006+01:00

10 Sep this was published in La Vanguardia. On friday I think I have something in the UEFA CHAMPIONS magazine.

FEVER PITCH - an article from frieze

2008-09-07T00:21:00.002+01:00

The art of football

Juergen Teller filmed himself watching the 2002 World Cup final (Germany lost 2–0 to Brazil). Eyes on the television set, he twists and shouts, stewing with bullish rage. He later said that this film was ‘the most disturbing thing’ he’d ever seen.1

‘Zidane’s melancholy is my melancholy,’ explains the narrator of a story by Jean-Philippe Toussaint. Watching the infamous 2006 World Cup final during which Zidane was sent off for headbutting Italian defender Marco Materazzi, he becomes absorbed by the player’s weariness, by ‘the intoxication of fatigue and nervous tension. I know it,’ he confesses, ‘I have nourished it and I feel it.’2

Harun Farocki’s 12-channel video projection Deep Play (2007) unpacks the visual archive of the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) for the same match. Farocki’s spectators have to tear themselves away from his installation – even knowing the outcome, gallery-goers drop their masks of cool sophistication in their compulsion to watch this two-hour drama unfold again and again, from impossible angles and in overwhelming statistical detail.

Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno’s Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait (2006) pushes that geometry to a new level by training 17 cameras on Zidane for the duration of a Real Madrid match. Isolated from the game by the camera’s focus, we wait with Zidane for the pass, for the attack. The soundtrack layers Scottish band Mogwai and crowd noise, the slap of foot against ball and the scratch of Zidane’s boot against the pitch. Over 90 minutes he smiles and laughs once in an exchange with a teammate. The singularity of this moment tells us he is at work. The film reveals nothing so well as Zidane’s expert control over his face.

Unlike that of 20-year-old football stars, lithe from running around and fond of diamond studs and long, flowing hair (Dimitar Berbatov or Lionel Messi), Zidane’s is a hard, menacing beauty. Gordon and Parreno’s film would have had an entirely different tone had they chosen an exuberant or openly flirtatious subject. Ronaldinho smiles every minute he is on the field, no matter how badly things are going. David Beckham’s audience is packed with fewer Marxist art critics (who prefer their subjects miserable) and with more women and gay men – as was the case for Sam Taylor-Wood’s video David (2004), a film of the footballer sleeping which functions as a homage to Andy Warhol’s Sleep (1963).

Gordon and Parreno cite Andy Warhol’s films as an inspiration, but it is hard to see the connection: Zidane … is too beautiful, too controlled, too glossy. You can buy the DVD in supermarkets in France – a sign of how deeply the film co-operates with and expands Zidane’s celebrity. It has much more in common with Warhol’s portraits.

The real Warholian moment of football cinema is Hellmuth Costard’s film Fußball wie noch nie (Football as Never Before, 1971). A point of reference for Zidane… and due for a European DVD re-release this summer, the film takes the famously charming George Best as its subject and edits multiple camera views to produce a real-time portrait of the player singled out during the course of an entire match. Lest we miss the homoerotic subtext of football art (and football culture), the half-time interval features a cruisey bit of filmmaking as we follow Best through a narrow hallway and into what looks like the boot room. Best turns and faces the camera for nearly three minutes. He holds our gaze as long as he can, pursing his lips, looking away and then back in a seemingly overt homage to the Warholian screen test. Best strikes a deal here with the camera, inviting us to look at him when he takes the field again; shots of his socks, his shoulders and his crotch seem to go on for ever.

In her ongoing watercolour diary Yrsa Roca Fannberg sneaks onto Barcelona’s pitch. These small, moody paintings are close cousins to Costard’s film and an important counterpoint to work such as Deep Play and Zidane… Costard and Fannberg give the lie to the game’s open secret. Football is a deeply sentimental space of male intimacy. Players explode in ecstasy, but they also love each other in more ordinary ways. They collapse in frustration, they cry. They are lost and wounded. They wrap their arms around each other and talk.

Eduardo Galeano (the Roland Barthes of football writing) describes ‘the history of soccer’ as ‘a sad voyage from beauty to duty’. That ‘duty’ is paid to the sports ‘telecracy’, in which ‘functionaries specialize in avoiding defeat’.3 Artists respond to this aspect of the game with melancholy and nostalgia – and often both. In ‘big’ art such as Farocki’s installation and Gordon and Parreno’s film, both of which were made in collaboration with that telecracy, the game itself is a receding horizon of pure experience in which the player dissolves with a pivot and a swing of the foot. His body – how it feels to be him – is beyond the reach of any representation. Technology and telecracy unite in the erasure of the player’s body, and his pleasure, from the picture. Roca Fannberg counters that theft by choosing as her medium a very simple dissolve of water on paper to capture how our moods, our thoughts, our legs get entangled with theirs. If the player dissolves, it is with us, and in tears.

The game is excised from the less romantic experimental film Substitute (2006) but not out of any formal trick. Fred Poulet gave his friend Vikash Dhorasoo a Super-8 camera so that the latter might keep a cinematic diary of his summer performances for the French national team during their 2006 World Cup run. The project was a disaster. Dhorasoo’s teammates refused to be filmed. Some, such as Zidane and Thierry Henry, are global brands; their images are trademarked. In spite of having featured in qualifying matches, Dhorasoo scarcely left the bench – many think the film project was to blame. Filming training is off limits, and the telecracy owns the game. The camera isolated Dhorasoo; we hardly ever leave his hotel room. His footage is grainy, often out of focus, while the narrative is sparse and grim. We track Dhorasoo’s struggle to keep his alienation and bitterness in check. Poulet and Dhorasoo replace the macho heroics of wounded masculinity with a far more compelling truth of exile, desire and resentment. The film ends not with a defiant geste but with Dhorasoo climbing the stairs to his apartment and sitting down at a table to open a large stack of mail.

1 Cited by Liz Hoggard in ‘This is for You, Dad’, The Observer, Sunday 14 September 2003
2 Jean-Philippe Toussaint, ‘Zidane’s Melancholy’, in New Formations: A Journal of Culture/Theory/Politics, 62, 2007, pp. 12–14
3 Eduardo Galeano, Soccer in Sun and Shadow, Verso, London, 1998

Jennifer Doyle

Jennifer Doyle is the author of Sex Objects: Art and the Dialectics of Desire (2006) and blogs about football at From a Left Wing.

Lost but alive

2008-08-25T12:10:00.003+01:00

In a whip I deleted the folder, and emptied the trash. Went swimming, came back and I just couldn´t believe what had happened. Unable to speak, unable to cry. I just stared at my computer. Went on google, the best friend in these circumstances and found some kind of programme that recovered files. Going through these files is a different matter. Once the computer starts to write over the files, they gain an immense beauty, as you can see:

I am alright now, it was a good clearout at least and I can start a new fresh start. Free of the burden of a past. But it is or was annoying, to say the least.

Crisp Summer Night

2008-08-02T22:54:00.003+01:00

Pasillo
Generally I am not a masochist, but I decided to do this painting as some kind of therapy. I really do hope I never ever have to experience this again and the player should use it as their screensaver in order to remind themselves again and again this must never ever happen again.

Structuring Unreality
Two of my favourite players. Not playing for the same team. Don´t ask me about the title, I was short of imagination.

Some watercolour paintings

2008-07-29T11:23:00.003+01:00

Rijkaard and his lonely shadow

In different directions

The red training shirt of Barça is good news, a bright, beautiful colour to paint, although I am not sure of the brownish shorts. Time will tell.
I will miss painting Rijkaard as it is really good fun, painting his hair and his firm packet. Guardiola, might have a smaller packet although he does seem to wear tight trousers, his hair - boring, at least to paint.
The only reason I would want to sign Adebayor or Drogba are painterly reasons, so paintoresque, those expressions, these haircuts, always with their shirt off.

Summer in Flatey

2008-07-23T23:12:00.006+01:00

Flatey, the magic island of Breiðarfjörður, where I spent most of my summers, with my friend Lísa.

I lived for most of the time in the cow house, eating grass, and sleeping with the cows, pure magic. I was not a human, but a cow, at least in my dreams. Unfortunately there are no cows anymore.

This time I went on a sea trip in the rain, the first sea trip I remember, at least on a small rubber boat. Looking for treasures close to the rocks, half way into the Atlantic ocean, the cold ocean. We almost went under in the haunt for beautiful stones and Ígulker. I got a couple for my relic collection against evil spirits.
The pleasure is impossible to describe, with the wind beating you in the face, forcefully and the cold water dribbling down. I was not in this world once we reached land, still rocking, incapable to speak, with electric waves through my body. Wet all the way through, the fresh air, with an unbelievable amount of oxygen. Oh Oh Oh it felt good.

On the last day I went to feed the bastard sheeps, the poor sheeps left behind by their mother, they grabbed the bottle and sucked, like hell. It was fun, it filled me, reminded me of old times, like when I went three years, old escaping my mother in the middle of the night, with only boots and a coat over my pyjamas, in order to be with the cows. They found me thanks to the small foot print in the snow on the other side of the island.
I have decided on the lamb I want for Christmas.

Kríur, the aggressive bird that hoards over the island. There are two psychotic ones, and one attacked me, it hurt. A lot. Blood dribbling down my face. I have hardly experienced an aggression before. Until I suddenly remembered. The trauma. What caused the trauma was probably when I stole the eggs, as a three year old, in order to eat them, fearless, at the time, but it paralysed the adults. Later a few years later, I went to bring back the cows. The cows came back, but not me, shaking under an elve stone, hiding from the birds. Unable to move. This time I brought with me a stick, it helped, but it did not bring out my fear.

By by the back door, through the middle door.

2008-06-10T08:54:00.004+01:00

I would like to do or read some statistics on which doors, super stars (Kaká, Henry, Schevchenko, Zidane, Ronaldo, C.Ronaldo, Figo, Eto'o, Ronaldinho) leave. Not from a small/middle club, but how they leave the big clubs.
It is said that stars never leave by the big door, which is not that strange, as clubs won't sell them while they are of use (if there is not someone with a huge cheque book) and if they stay they become a burden of the bench. A good manager should always sell them the year they start to entering their decline, however the fans hardly understand when that moment is, which leaves them discontent.
Ronaldinho and Deco should have been sold last year and this (however much hurts) is the year Eto'o should be sold. Ronaldinho, should have been sold two years ago. It was the idea of the club that a player like him deserves to leave by the front door it became an unsustainable situation on everyone's behalf. The player is mainly to blame, but each part has a percentage in the whole soap opera it has become.

How did Zidane leave, by the middle door. Figo, Ronaldo (back door), time though puts everything in perspective.

Images:
Playing not playing
In motion (tribute to New Order and Eto'o)

Welcome

2008-05-27T00:53:00.004+01:00

Keita, another addition to the midfield. I hope it will give a different dimension to a midfield that sometimes has lacked physical power and height. Any big team need variations and the sense of being able to surprise and change the course of the game.
Barcelona have so many times this year been overrun, it is a free highway straight to the defence. Hopefully Keita will stop that.
Touré, Keita and Iniesta is what I want to see.
Image:
In Trust

I don't see it all as fair play!

2008-05-09T13:40:00.003+01:00

It hurts to read the news papers today. I am not fully sure of the intentions behind Laporta and his board. he claims it was a united decisions, but it all seems like some kind of dirty play. What is Txiki doing? How come he is intact in this situation, does he only work two months of the year? How come he has not been sacked. I do think his signings were excellent last year, at least three out of the four and the fourth was with good intentions, but...
I think every one is guilty and I suspect this summer will be very lively and not in a positive sense.

Brainstorming during the humiliation

2008-05-07T22:42:00.005+01:00

Rijkaard's face after the 4-0 is indescribable, to be honest I just want this to end, but my biggest worry it is not the end, that their is a dark era looming behind the corner. Not because the players are bad, but I think there is a civil war approaching, no one will have any patience. Results will be demanded immediately and that is a difficult working method, impossible to work with such a pressure. I don't think that Mourinho is the solution, as his arrogance and ego will attract all the attention, but I am not so sure that is the best working method for the club.
Anyway it looks like it will be Guardiola, well, what can one say. He knows the club, seems to have some kind of personality, but else? It all remain to be seen.

In theory Barça don't have bad players, but something is happening, there is a lack of testerone and lack of will power. One would have thought that after an awful year like last year, the players would want to prove a point, but some of them just want to live well. Perhaps human.

I don't like Madrid, but I have to agree that I do like certain things:
- that Raúl is suddenly valid again. They have dragged the ghost out of him, a good way to use and make an icon for its club leave by the grand door.
- the way they fight to the end of each game, getting the result needed in the last minute.
- That most of their players are not huge stars, but "working" class players (obviously on good wages)

It hurts to see Rijkaard leave this way. What most hurts is that all the human values I value are thrown out by the wind, that perhaps it is impossible to conduct modern rich spoiled players with intelligence and respect. That perhaps all that works is the harsh bad aggressive father who prohibits rather than allows each person's intelligence to control their situation. That it is impossible to act to treat these super ego's with a soft left hand, they will just walk over you. It is not the way I wished for Frank Rijkaard to leave, in severe humiliation. In time I think we will miss him.

Images:
Individual Boxes
Hide My Soul

Relief

2008-05-04T18:21:00.004+01:00

It was never really a fully realistic task, or perhaps it was. To reach Moscow. It would have been a wonderful way to end something, or perhaps that end would have been prolonged. With the second year and no titles, the drama is present, very present. A third year without titles is unconceivable and I don't believe the club will take any risks for next year. Don't forget elections are looming under the horizont and if it is bad enough to have had two years without a single titles (not even the Catalan Cup, I think) you can imagine what three years would be.
Next year, is now, even if we have to fight for the second place.
Not fight, but obtain it.
The so called "worst Madrid ever" have won the same amount of league titles as the so called "best Barça ever".

Nothing more needs to be said.

The Manchester game was a pain, not a pain in the arse, but a painful painful week. The hope was there once we reached an allrightish result at Camp Nou. Perhaps perhaps, we could reach Moscow (a city I always wanted to visit and still do want to visit). A blurry, foggy dream. Was present, was there. Where there is life, there is hope. Yes.
With the 180 minutes without being able to score a single goal, with the so called "best three strikers in the world), it ended. I have to say that I did not feel sad, angry, just relieved that this was over. Clinging on to an Utopia, looking at the sky and hoping there was some help to be had, looking at the stones asking the elves to be there, to send their protection army.
Illusions can be helpful, but never useful.

Praying !!!

2008-04-29T10:38:00.002+01:00

Hiding Between Fireworks

Not Even Half Naked Do I Find You Sexy!

Remembering the Past in order to Move into the Future

2008-04-24T16:36:00.006+01:00

Memories of that Champions League!
Yes that one, Paris 2006.

The start of the of the CL was met with expectations, after winning the Spanish league with style, what the culés wanted was the fat one.
Once the draw was made it was clear that in a group of Werder Bremen, Panantinaikos, Udinese, Barça would not have difficulties in qualifying, at least in normal circumstances. It was a mere formality almost. It gave Barcelona the opportunity to mix some great football with marvelous football. Very attack minded, with great results and allowing the fans to enjoy rather than suffered.

Once the first round was finished and Chelsea had come second, I just knew we would meet them, it was purely an intuition, but it was obvious that if Barça wanted to progress, they would have to finish an unfinished business.

The game against Chelsea, had two months of build up. It was almost insane, the league was a freeway, where the results just kept coming in, which was beneficial in order to be able to rest players against the first important game of the year. The one at Stamford Bridge. There was a sense of confidence, but no arrogance, but I was almost certain that Barcelona would go through. They had been naive in the previous year, where they granted Chelsea to dictate the return match. Another benefit was that the second game was at Camp Nou, meaning that if a good result could be obtained in England, qualification would be almost like a formality. The game was tainted the question of the state of the grass at Stamford Bridge, that the club had allowed it to deteriorate in order to slow down Barcelona's passing game. There was the classic sending off, with Asier Del Horno bumping down Messi, the youngster who everyone would be talking about after the game. Del Horno was lucky not to be sent off 10 minutes earlier, with a clumsy challenge, with studmarks showing for weeks afterwards. Barcelona totally dominated the game and even if Chelsea went up first, they were lucky to loose only 1-2. Mourinho was furious at Messi's so called play acting, stirring the atmosphere up even more. He was spat at upon arrival at the airport, but later Rijkaard pleaded the fans to meet him with respect at the stadium. When Ronaldinho scored a wonderful goal in the second half, the fans burst out singing "Mourinho, go to the theatre, go to the theatre, Mourinho go to the theatre". Class. I feel very proud that under Rijkaard's strict orders, the players should concede no free kicks on the edge of the penaties nor any corners. Mission fulfilled

The next rivals came briefly after and would be Benfica. For this game, I was much more nervous. As Benfica are not one of the major clubs in Europe anymore, there was a risk of relaxations. In the first game, Barcelona attacked and attacked and I think there were 20 shots on goal, but the goalkeeper simply had the game of his life. Every time Benfica counterattacked, I was truly nervous. Barcelona were also lucky to escape a penalty in the area. An unlucky result, but lucky at the same time. The return game came straight after el clásico with Madrid (rarely had that game meant as little). The players seemed confident, but there was also a morbo as Koeman was Benfica's coach (Koeman's scored Barcelona's goal in their only CL final victory), it would just be typical if he would be the man kicking Barcelona out of the tournament. Apparently each time the two clubs had met in the European cup the winner had later gone and won the tournament. In the first five minutes of the return leg, Ronaldinho missed a penalty and we were all wondering if the goalkeeper would have his miracle moment again. Soon thereafter Ronaldinho scored the first goal of the game. The second half took for ever to arrive and Benfica were approaching the opposite area with decision, but fortunately no precision. Simao seem to have the game in his hands, but Valdés made a great safe. That goal would probably have meant that Benfica would go through. Five minutes before the end, Eto'o scored a wonderful goal and I have rarely experienced such a relief.

Next were Milan. Remembrance of the 1994 final, were Milan thumped Barcelona in Athens, 4-0 to win the final, was brought up. A good sign. As there was some kind of revenge in the air. Deco was suspended for the second game, which was almost a blessing as he had a serious dip in the second half of the season. Larsson was also out, so was Messi, who had not returned from the injury in the return leg of the Chelsea game. I was in Spain for the semifinal, going to a restaurant with my dad and his friend, eating tapas and drinking wine. A great way to watch football. It was a very tactical game, almost Italian. Milan were reaching the area, but it just did not seem to be their night. Iniesta got his BA in the games against Benfica, where he controlled it the moment he came on, but against Milan he had another immense game, were he got his Master. He simply over shadowed, Pirlo, Seedorf and Gattuso. It was so lovely to see. Ronaldinho had one moment of magic, were he released Giuly, who scored the only goal of the game. A Frenchman handing us the ticket to Paris? Now there was only a result to be held out at Camp Nou. Milan were again attacking and came close a few times, as did Barcelona. It was probably a very boring game for neutrals. Barcelona could count themselves lucky that a Schevchenko goal was disallowed, for something noone really seems to be able to grasp. Lucky. Then again Champions always have luck on their side. Five minutes before the end, the stadium suddenly started to believe what everyone had hoped for: a ticket to Paris. It was such a feeling to experience to contained eruption of 98 000. It was like a murmurring staccato, which suddenly became loader and loader. Si Si Si Nos Vamos A Paris (yes, yes, yes we are going to Paris). The whistle did not come soon enough, but then it did and tears were streaming down on everyone. The walk down from the stadium was slower then ever, with everyone singing. I would turn around and see the joy in the face of 70 year old men in suits, or youngsters all singing together. The smile of the lady next to me, is hard to forget. The noise of the cars, everyone, everyone was singing and dancing. Something very very rare in the reserved nation of Catalunya.

Paris 17 May 2006
A day that could not come soon enough. For all the time since the final whistle of the CL semifinal, this was the day. I think I thought about it constantly. For a little moment lets fight the mess with the tickets to the final (something that almost overshadow the fact that Barcelona were in their first European final since Athens), but lets remember the day for what it was. I was so nervous the whole day, that I could just not decide were I was going to watch it, it was almost going down to the very last instinct. I tried to remember all the superstitious little things that I did before the big games. However I decided to break all of them and just go with my inner feeling. In the end I can hardly remember anything of the game. Although I suspect if the Giuly's goal would not have been disallowed I believe that Barcelona would have been 3-0 up before half time. However that was not the case and the referee denied us of a true final by sending off Lehmann. This meant that Arsenal would close themselves up at the back even more efficiently and rely on Henry even more. Thierry Henry had a great chance at the start of the game, which Valdés saved, a great safe, he would later repeat that in the 70th minute. Before the first half whistle Arsenal were up by one goal. Barcelona had most off the possion, but were incapable of penetrating the Arsenal defence. Arsenal's counter attacks were poisenous, but not lethal. In the 70th minute, Henry had a one on one with Valdés, but his shot was lame. This was the moment things could turn. It was obviously not his night. Rijkaard made some fantastic substitutions, brave and precise. Iniesta came on for Emilson, Larsson and then Belleti. Iniesta would be the man dictating the game, where Arsenal were exhausted after having to play most of the game with 10 men. I believe Arsene Wenger should have been equally as brave, as a Barcelona goal would have been a big psychological blow. Instead of bring on Reyes which could have helped Henry to run at Barcelona's defenders, he brought on Flemini, a defender. Henry had been able to run past Márquez and Puyol almost at will, but not putting the ball in the net, perhaps he could have done with some help. However it was another substitutions who made a huge impact. It was going to be his last game for Barcelona, before retiring to Swedish football. Henrik Larsson, alongside was the difference. He sliced a pass through to Eto'o who scored the equaliser. Eto'o received the ball and in a lightning quick second changed feet to score with the other one and getting Almunia off balance. A few minutes later the most unlikely hero of them all was to score his first goal ever for the club. Juliano Belleti. Belleti is a player, who most fans seemed to agree, was their worst player. Someone who had no tactical ability and very often he would attack and attack, leaving a huge field behind him, where opponents would punish his team. Tonight was different though, he was supposed to attack. Larsson penetrated the ball into Belleti's path with great precision and Bam. Goal. The commentatory on the radio was fantastic. It was told with almost a coolness, when Belleti received the ball. No one believed he would score, so when he did it got everyone by surprise. Suddenly there was a new hero. Juliano Belleti. He stumbled a few metres after scoring the goal, until falling down, with Eto'o next to him crying. It was raining tropically, but that was of little matter. The players created a small Kilimanjaro replica, lying on top of each other, gasping the moment. The equaliser never seemed to arrive, I was starting to belief and tell myself: "Don't worry, it is only football". When the first one came, I knew the title would be ours. Only a couple of minutes were left and ...

Calvinistic Children

2008-03-25T10:33:00.003Z

I can't confess so I will leave this moment of doubt in the hands of God who will inform me later on if I can celebrate or not...
I leave you these pictures in the meantime, that I took.
Let's hope the Álfar will help us. My grandmother has sent her protection army (Álfarnir)

I am still Waiting for you Henry!!!

2008-03-09T23:56:00.002Z

I have no energy to write or think about what happened in the game tonight. I have to say it was kind of predictable. Every single time Barcelona and their stupid entorno and their stupid fans (including me) laugh about Madrid, our Karma comes to haunt us. It comes to hunt us in bright sunlight and causes a slow, but deep and painful wound with a blunt rusty knife.

I will keep on painting, but I will focus my energy on more important things...

Slide Show at the Barbican

2008-03-08T14:52:00.003Z

FREE EVENING AT THE BARBICAN
Main hall (level -1)
From 9.30 until midnight (with Bar)

SLIDE SHOW

51 artists responding by email to the Barbican strapline
DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT

a proposal by International Exhibitionist

Katarzyna Kozyra, Dan Graham, Thomas Rentmeister, Matthieu Laurette, Nooshin Farid, Marie-Ange Guilleminot, Grace Ndiritu, Orlan, Aneta Mona Chisa & Lucia Tkácová, Claire Fontaine, Flávia Müller Medeiros, Shezad Dawood, Antoine Catalla, Martin Zet, Laurent Moriceau, Caroline McCarthy, Bruno Peinado, Antony Gross, François Curlet, Andro Semeiko, Toine Klaassen, Yu-Chen Wang, Gordon Cheung, Charbel Ackermann, Shoko Maeda, Mathijs Lieshout, Mairéad McClean, Valérie Vivancos, Julien Blaine, Valentin Torrens, Simon Faithfull, Anne Cleary & Denis Connolly, Bernadette Genée & Alain Le Borgne, Ross Birrell, Jan Kjetil Borheim, Mamuka Japardeize, Enna Chaton, Yrsa Roca Fannberg, Patricia & Marie France Martin, Adina Bar-On, Vincent Julliard, Roddy Hunter, Michael Asbury, Van McElwee, Doug Fishbone, Adam Nankervis, Giacomo Picca, Pierre Bastien

Invitation by Barbican Education

Specific slide shows will be presented in between performances.

Programme :

9.30 Performance by Ken Campbell & the School of the Night + music by 5 performer

Slide show

10.05 Performance by Julian Fox

Slide Show and short films : Chelpa Ferro - Martin Zet - Pierre Bastien

10.55 Musical performance by Paul Granjon

Slide Show

11.45 Musical performance by Scanner

Midnight Performance by Lone Twin ends in Silk street.

Ps.
It should be availabe at this website sometimes soon:
http://international-exhibitionist.org/

Wooohoo I can finally put on my CV that I have been in the same show as Dan Graham :)

Look After This KID!!!

2008-03-04T22:07:00.003Z

I made this watercolour a while ago, when Leo was receiving all these kicks and bites from opposite players. It was a cry out for protection.

The only thought I have in my mind is Leo's injury. Once again. It really feels, and my it caused tears filling my eyes. Valdés reaction said so much.
Some might say that Rijkaard is lucky as he won't have to choose between the forwards, but NO NO NO. It is no luck. Messi is surely asking himself if he will ever be able to make history. If he is sentenced to play a side part, if he will only be able to play 25 percent of the games in a season.
This career is so delicate and so short and i would like all parts to protect him and that he should concentrate on becoming what we all know that he will become. Concentrate on what he can give us.

Watching the image of Messi crying was like having a blunt rusty knife cutting through ones organs. Unbearable.

There is More to Life Than This?

2008-03-02T22:55:00.008Z

I have to admit that due to National duties I did not see the game, only listened to it half heartedly until the 2-1. When it was 3-1 I was staring in to a sheep's head and decided it would stay that way.
Enjoy the old man playing on his harmonica singing about Jósep and his birds.

From my scarce understanding of the game, the result was predictable.

Each time the media starts its bla bla bluh there is a downfall. At. Madrid were seen as a team that was buried live and no chance of resurrection, but...

Arrogance never ever pays off. Bad Karma.

I am glad that Touré was rested for the Celtic game. It is not that I think there will be a problem, but you should never take the British fighting spirit lightly, they will give more than all (especially when they know that Barça can concede four goals). Touré is essential in that game.
Messi needs a rest I think, I am worried that he he has played too many games since Christmas.

Why is common sense so difficult within the bubble Barça (the press, the fans etc), sometimes it seems like we are all pensioners looking for something to worry about.

Hei Life is not that Bad, last month was a lot more positive than previous 18.

I leave you a little treat:
Fish coated in Pistachio:
Buy white fish fillets
cut pistachios (unsalted obviously) into tiny tiny bits
cut parsley into really small bits
mix parsley and pistachio
whip an egg, coat the fillet in it and then into the
pistachio and parsley mix.
Fry.

Note:The title is in Björk's honour and her song Violently Happy (as I am living a moment where at times I feel I am so happy I could explode).

Images:
Rijkaard and Ronaldinho in training.
A trio in training at Barça.
Fun in training.

Þorri

2008-03-02T19:27:00.012Z

Anecdotes:
When I was little, my mother used to give me some shark to eat, so she could smell where I was playing - no smell = danger.

I used to baby sit for the Icelandic community in Lund, Sweden for the Þorrablót. I remember there were always some scandals and people would get incredibly drunk.

The food itself doesn't really appeal to me, I guess I have lived too long abroad.

My mother told me that once they had a Þorrablót in the company where she was working.
It started at six, by seven they evacuated all paintings in the room (as people were getting too drunk) at 8.30 they wanted to beat up the boss, due to some payment issues, at nine my mother left as it was getting far too chaotic.

I decided to go to this Þorrablót, I knew I had to eat a good lunch, as I don't really eat much more than Harðfiskur, Hangikjöt, flatkökur, but no. For some reason I decided I was going to try the sheap head, so many people I know love it and I used to love sucking its bones, eyeas and the chin was my favourite part.
Here is the result:

It is not so much that I am disgusted, but I was really really scared to bite in to this head. I do remember that I loved it as a child and good friends (with a food taste) like it. However it was not that disgusting, but more scary. I ate the whole of the tongue though, but did not have the courage to suck the eye.
In my youth (and I am not that old) we used to play with the bones, that were left of the sheep.

Menu for Þorrablót,
comments courtesy of your host.

Traditional Appetizers:

Hákarl:
Shark, served in small cubes. It is prepared by burying it for several weeks, and then hanging it up and allowing it to dry. The semi-opaque flesh of the belly is called glerhákarl (glassy shark), and is not nearly as popular as the skyrhákarl, which is flesh from the body of the fish. Skyrhákarl draws its name from its resemblance in appearance to the Icelandic curds called skyr. The tough glerhákarl is recommended for beginners, as the soft skyrhákarl has been known to cause an involuntary gagging reaction due to its texture. Wash down with a shot of cold Brennivín (caraway schnapps). Believe it or not, this is actually good for the digestion - especially before eating the heavy Þorri food.

When the rotten shark was taken out of the package I almost fainted/vomited

Harðfiskur:
Dried fish, usually haddock, cod or catfish, beaten to soften it. Delicious with or without butter. In olden times harðfiskur was eaten like bread in those homes that could only afford flour for baking on special occasions. It is still Iceland's favourite snack, and a popular travel food. (Chances are, if you meet an Icelander and he has a funny smell about him, it will be because of the harðfiskur tucked away in his luggage).

Main courses:
This is where the menu begins to get really interesting. Almost everything you find on a typical Þorri buffet is made from lamb or mutton, with a few exceptions. The food can be separated into two categories: sour and non-sour. The sour food has been pickled in extra strong skyrmysa (whey) for several weeks. The trick is to get it sour enough to tell where it's been, but not so sour that you can't tell what it is. Most of the sour food is also served non-sour. In the old days, sour milk was sometimes uses instead of mysa.

Sour only:
Hrútspungar or pressed sheep's testicles. Has little taste of it's own, and a texture reminiscent of pressed cod roe.
Hvalspik or whale blubber. This became hard to find after the parliament passed a law forbidding whaling several years ago. It has made a small comeback recently, due to the whaling ban being lifted. Fresh whale blubber is stringy and tough, but pickling it makes it soft and more digestible.
Lundabaggar - This is a tough one to explain - it is made from secondary meats, like colons and other such stuff, rolled up, boiled, pickled and sliced. Usually very fatty.
Bringukollar - breast meat. These are cuts of really fat meat on the bone, which have been boiled before pickling. As the name suggests, these pieces come from the breast of the animal.
Selshreifar - seal's flippers. These are rare, except at some family feasts where the participants have hunted the seals themselves.
Hvalllíki or fake whale blubber. This was invented after the whaling ban. It is made from fish, and has a colour and texture reminiscent of the real thing, but an entirely different taste. Has become a Þorri staple for many, and is by some preferred over the real thing. I think that now whale blubber is available, this will probably disappear soon, unless whaling stops again.

Sour and non-sour:
Slátur. Of this there are two types: Lifrarpylsa or liver sausage and Blóðmör or blood sausage. Both are cooked before pickling. Both are quite good when fresh, but take on wholly different taste when pickled, which people either love or loathe (I happen to like it). Both contain rye meal, which contributes to the souring process and creates a special kind of taste that's hard to describe. Both are quite firm when fresh, but will take on a crumbly texture after extended pickling. These can actually be pickled in water or milk, as the rye meal causes a souring action similar to whey.
Sviðasulta - sheep's head jam (headcheese). This is quite good when pickled, and delicious fresh. It is made by cutting up the meat from cooked sheep's heads (svið), pressing into moulds and cooling. The cooking liquid turns into jelly when cold, and keeps the whole thing together.
Svínasulta, or spiced pigs' head jam/headcheese. A recent addition to the Þorri table, probably borrowed from the Danish. Tastes much better fresh than pickled.
Lappir and/or Fótasulta - sheep's legs and sheep's leg jam. This is a rare sight, both due to the effort it takes to produce the jam, and the fact that the slaughterhouses are required to throw the legs away. Therefore only available where people do their own butchering.*

*The must have changed the regulations - you can now get legs at my local supermarket.

Non-sour:
Hangikjöt - Literally "hung meat". This usually refers to smoked lamb or mutton, although smoked horse-meat is also called hangikjöt. This is one of those courses that are eaten outside the Þorri season as well, and is really delicious.
Magálar - heavily smoked sheep's bellies. Eaten like hangikjöt.
Svið - singed sheep's heads. The name refers to the tradition of burning away all the hair from the head before cooking. This gives the meat a smoky flavour. The heads are cut in half lengthwise and the brains removed before cooking. Like hangikjöt, this is also quite a popular dish outside the Þorri season.

Side dishes:
Kartöflustappa - mashed potatoes. This hopefully needs no explanation. Recipe will be posted at some later date.
Rófustappa - mashed rutabagas. These are boiled until soft, mashed and sweetened with sugar.
Flatbrauð - flat bread, served with butter.
rúgbrauð - rye bread. Dark (almost black) "thunder-bread" served with butter. Top with pickled herring for an entrée, eat on the side with the main courses.

Drinks:
Brennivín - caraway schnapps, locally known as Svartidauði - "Black Death". These days many people will rather drink vodka and/or whisky - which they claim tastes better.
Mysa - whey. Yes, it can also be drunk. Before the arrival of carbonated beverages, this was the refreshment of choice. Unfortunately, it is not much used as a drink anymore. The taste? It is reminiscent of dry white wine, and mysa can actually be used instead of white wine in cooking, without anyone noticing the difference.
Bjór - beer and its relatives, Malt (non-alcoholic brown ale) and Lageröl (pale ale). During the beer-less years (several decades), the only ale allowed in Iceland was the low-alcohol Malt and Lageröl. Since we have been allowed to drink beer again, it has become "the drink" for many at Þorrablót feasts. These days you can even buy special Þorri beer.
Soft drinks - for those who don't like ale or strong spirits.

Afterword:
Every year, I hear people, especially young people and those who like to consider themselves cosmopolitans, grumbling about the Þorri feasts. They go on about the food being horrible and the tradition outdated and cheesy, and ask why we should eat all this horrible, fattening preserved food (which must be horrible to everyone because they don’t like it) when we can get it fresh. In my opinion, they should count themselves lucky to have been born in the 20th century, when they at least have a choice as to what they eat, a luxury our ancestors didn't have. The old-fashioned food of today is much healthier than the same kind of food used to be. Here I am not just referring to the traditional Þorri food, but also for example to sour and mouldy butter, rotting meat and bread with lots of extra proteins due to maggots and insects in the flour. Many people had no choice but to eat this kind of food, or else starve.

Note: Almost all of the information on Þorrablót are taken from: Icecook

Other References are:
Icelandic Horse

Til Hamingju Freyja!

2008-03-01T10:53:00.004Z

Calm and Patience

2008-02-24T22:49:00.005Z

Slowly, it seems to be happening. Not sure entirely when that sensation came, perhaps it was against Sevilla in the Cup, perhaps against Sevilla in the league or perhaps it was against Zaragoza last week. Barcelona won a very difficult game away from home, where Diego Milito missed a penalty, Barça were handed a goal and a penalty. The luck of the Champions? Hmmm, still remains to be seen.
The Celtic game was the first game in I don´t know how long that Barça, my team came from behind to win a game. Suddenly there was spirit, team effort, sacrification, hugnger.

It could well be that the egos have had enough and have finally realised that it is not that funny that people laugh or spit in your face. I hope that they have decided to pull themselves out of the mess they got themselves in to. During the game against Celtic, I had a strong feeling, that we would win, you could see the hunger in the players eyes, it was not the same complacent gaze since Paris 2006. Yes almost two years.
Today, I decided not to go to the stadium in order to paint (as you know my schedule is fierce and hard), but I did go to the bar to watch the game. Xavi scored, then Zambrotta in one of his moods committed an extremely stupid penalty and it was 1-1. No - I never had a doubt, we would win this, it was just going to be like that. I also said to my dad that Madrid would loose or draw. The words of a witch.
Monday is looming and 9 points became six, then eight, then five and now two...
Let´s not forget however that the future is just starting, not just for myself, but for this team. Let´s forget about Mourinho, Ronaldinho and Benzema. The hard work has just began. Just began.

My Life

2008-02-07T10:29:00.001Z

This is what I ideally want. Perhaps utopic, but I want to continue my working pattern from December, before I went to Iceland.
In Spain I am finding people talking too much, no space for silence, something extremely important. I almost long for the autistic long dark winters, like the ones in Iceland now, where you can hardly leave the house.
I am still looking for the place, the place where you go to the sea, the immense overwhelming sea (not the cute Mediterranean) and on a needed day you just stand there, overlooking or not looking or whatever. If you are angry you shout, if you are sad you cry, if you just are, you just are.

Here is my daily schedule -
07.30 - the alarm clock rings
08.00 - i get out of bed
08.05 - i drink a glass of juice
08.15 - i go out on the terrace with my skipping rope to jump
08.25 - have breakfast, read the news online
08.45 - shower
09.00 - study (alternating - watching films, reading on films and working on my own film)
13.00 - Every other day I cook (the other day I study until 14.00)
14.00 - lunch
14.30 - leave home
16.00 - my class starts
19.45 - take the train home
21.00 - have dinner
21.30 - watercolouring

This is Monday to Friday. Sometimes I go to the stadium in the week, sometime I meet up with someone. Max two evenings in the week, preferably one.
Saturday and Sunday -
I can have one day off, the other one is dedicated to watching films, reading, writing and watercolouring.

My Favourite Turks Yoghurt Recipe:

- 1 lt of milk
- a handful of yogurt yeast. another good yogurt would do if you
cannae find yeast.

- bring milk to boil, and let it boil for a while afterwards (say 20 mins)
- when milk has cooled down to a point slightly cooler than a
temperature at which you can bathe a baby in summer (as my granny
would say),
put yogurt yeast in the milk, cover it with a towel (sides and top)
and leave it for a day. dont move it around.
make sure yeast is about the same temp when you put it in. warm it
up slightly for that *before* you put it in.

enjoy.

Ps. This is my plan - not sure if it is realistic.

Image: England (Bridge & Gerrard), down and dirty after falling flat against Croatia.

I believe

2008-02-03T20:30:00.000Z

It felt like it was going to be one of those nights where all you want to do is scream:
You are idiots.
However, thanks to a goal in the dying minutes (thanks Xavi) - Barcelona do have a more realistic chance to get closer and who knows on top of Madrid.
I felt it was going to be a night of creeping under my blanket in order to dream dreams of the cups: Champions League and the Copa de Rey, but no.
Tomorrow looks slightly brighter than last Monday.
It should wake me up early, early as the day is there to breathe in, breathe in like a crisp cold winter night, when the pinkish light is throwing its light on the mountains (at least in the North). Perhaps I will take my seats off for sale and actually go to the stadium. In the last weeks, I just haven't really had the energy nor the lust to be bored, bored to death, with the pim pam bla bla bla, masturbating indulgent vulgar play of the team.
From now on I will hope to see some soul, some character, some spirit, where nothing is taken for granted nor nothing is thought to be lost, until the end.

Longings

2008-01-29T12:30:00.001Z

I am finding myself in a sunshine of 13 degrees.
I met a friend from the North, who was sitting outside in a t-shirt, I have to admit I played it cooler and wore a woolen scarf. However, I have to admit there is something within me that is longing for a dark, gloomy, crisp and cold winter.
I long for the Autist in me, I long for an autistic moment. Perhaps the hermetic life in Scotland has made its mark, perhaps my Icelandic genes are strong, but I don't really agree with this sunny, happy winter, where you want to be outside.

For a long long time, I have been wanting to see the dual films of Ragnar Bragason - Börn and Foreldrar (children and parents). I saw bits of Börn after a dinner in Iceland over Christmas. I think I had made it up to be really really really good, which it wasn't, but it wasn't bad. People I trust talk well of Ragnar and my experience is positive.
Tonight I will finally have the opportunity to watch Foreldrar. It looks funny.
Think it is filmed in Breidholt, a place, which could be said to be the "ghetto" of Reykjavik. I like the area though, the blocks and blocks of flats are at least different and colourful.

The film that I really really long to see is Brúðgumann, a film by Baltasar Kormákur, a half Catalan/Icelandic, just like me. :)
It is filmed in Flatey, an island I have mentioned often.
You can see some pictures here:

http://flateyjarblogg.blog.is/blog/flateyjarblogg/

This is the hat I really want. My mother made it for a friend, I do think it looks nice.

Missing

2008-01-23T10:20:00.001Z

After only a week, I am finding out what I am missing here in Barcelona.
Stuff. Food. More food and more food.

My favourite things, that I find increasingly hard to be without.

My vegetable brush - to clean vegetable and fruit - one of those things, you never thought you would use, but no - I can't live without it.

Iranian Dates - If you have tried out Iranian dates, there is nothing like it.

Tomato Paste in tubes - I have been to several shops, but they are all in cans, which makes it difficult to keep it, you know, in a can it becomes moldly quickly.

Valvona & Crolla's black and white pepper corn. The best of the best. The so called Rolls Royce of black pepper.

Black eyed peas - The peas I used to make the Turkish black eyed pea salad (Jimmy boy and Dudu's salad).

Iranian Saffron

Good chicken stock - Not the Knorr type, which is full of chemicals, but one which actually contains chicken (is sold at Marks and Spencer in Edimburg)

Beef Stock - Sold at Marks and Spencer and is not full of E products, salt and sugar.

Vegetable Stock - A real one, sold in health shops.

Valvona & Crolla food bag - Good to save one from using all those plastic bags.

Barberries - To make Iranian Saffron

Sumac - A necessary "thing" for Turkish breakfasts, chicken and more.

Whole Allspice - Another necessary spice.

Turkish Coffee (think I can probably find that)

Preserved Lemon - is proving slightly difficult to find

If you know any place where I can find these things, let me know. If you want to be good and send me things, let me know. I am open to presents and human goodwill.

- Soon I will write something on Bobby Fischer, who died a few days ago.

From Up There

2008-01-13T09:37:00.001Z

Here are some pictures form up there. I wanted to use some of them for watercolours, although it is very difficult to paint snow, I think I might now the method in theory, but it is a different matter in practice.

Iceland was very good, I like the place, even if there are certain things about the society I find a bit disturbing.

I like its maniatic behaviour, perhaps I can even identify with it.
Soon, when the time is right I will do some more anecdotes. It will have to wait.

I am going in the opposite direction for now though.

This is just north of Reykjavik, on the way West. It was freezing, and even taking your hands to take the photograph was extremely painful.

In the middle of nowhere. I really like the landscape around Keflavik, or Reykjanesbaer as it called nowadays. There was a snowstorm, on a certain spot and one could only drive 1 metre, extremely slowly and then wait for it to clear for a second, then one metre, and so on. I was driving the car of my favourite Parliament member, who I trust for the improvement of one of my countries.

My favourite cafe in the whole wide world. Not just due to memories, I used to go there with my mother for a hot chocolate and waffles after my clarinet lessons. Every time I am in Iceland I go there. Just to sit and watch. This time I went there about four times and each time the same man was sitting in the corner table by the door and another man on another table. Regulars you see.

I laughed out loud, when I saw these pictures, when I went to collect them from the developing shop (yes that is the advantage of film, rather than the immediate format of digital photography). I also admit I did find it a bit strange and I was scared by that paw, who made no attempt in making me comfortable.

8 August 1984

2007-12-19T11:57:00.000Z

That was the day I moved to Sweden. That I left my country and I now can return for the very first time for Christmas.
I have to admit I am very excited, not sure if I look forward to Svið and Hangikjöt, (sheeps head and smoked lamb), but yes to the Brenna (the bonfire at the beach), obviously freezing cold, the Nordic Lights and fireworks.

On top of that, I will watch the Clásico, not sure if I should watch it in town, where people tend to get extremely drunk on the 23rd or if I should go and watch it in the Old People´s Home, with old sailors and fortunetellers.

It is such a shame that Messi won´t be playing, but I do think the team won´t embarrass anyone and I think that in some way Messi´s injury will keep the team on their toes. It would be a good, if not wonderful feeling if Eiður would score the winning goal. After all the crucade against him started with his miss against Madrid.

I will try to add some anecdotes, while I am away, although I suspect my mother will keep my schedule tight, baking cakes, cooking and bla bla bla.

After a broken heart you look for the opposite

2007-12-10T23:29:00.000Z

It is curious to see that what one most loved about Rijkaard what now annoys you. It is almost like a lover, where what ends up irritating you is exactly what you fell for in the first place. In the well known battle between him and Mourinho one could do little else than defend a man who assembled gentleman-ness itself. It was almost a crime not to. There was a responsibility towards the fans and humanity itself. How could one even think of taking Mourinho’s side? Unless you were Chelsea supporter. How could Mourinho’s authorative methods be something to long for. Mourinho seems like a man who thankfully is only a football coach, as otherwise he would have been a very dangerous man(as a friend said). His power is just. The two men are almost its opposites, although they aim for the same goal, as so often. Even if I guess that one of them is prepared to go further in order to achieve it.

It is not really that strange that Barcelona fans are longing for what doesn’t exist in their own house. I wonder how long it would take for the fans to want a different cuisine. The opposite of the next opposite, how long would the fling last, or marriage in an optimistic case. Remember that even if Van Gaal had a certain success, (although without the perverse charm of Mourinho) he was never really loved by the fans, much due to his complicated personality. He was completely unaware of the need of some diplomatic skills in order to dance around “el entorno” and his aggressive personality slowly had every one against him. This damned “etorno” who has so much power. The problem with Mourinho is exactly that he needs to proof that he is right, his ego actually need comforting and reassurement. He might be funny and his pressconferences ARE entertaining, but after some time they also become a little bit tedious. His crusade, exhausting. If you are not with him, you are against him, and therefore the enemy.

It wouldn’t really be that long, until the press would be awaiting the bad results in order to attack him, attack his arrogance and ego. He wouldn’t have that safety net that Rijkaard got himself, a safety net that saved him from criticism for a long time. It is also true that he is probably a better coach, that he has a more profound tactical knowledge, he does seem to be able to control dressing rooms, as players do stand by him at any cost, but then again, people do want to be associated with winners at all cost.

Personally I would love to see Rijkaard being the Ferguson of Barça, with the right coaching staff, who actually supplement him I believe that would be possible, it is very likely though that he would really want to. It seems that he has that personality who has no need to constantly prove themselves, who seems quite content with who they are, and being the coach of Barcelona must be extremely tiresome and one must wonder why one has entered into the petty battles of “el etorno”. Mourinho would really thrive on that battle, he would love to show Cruijff that he could be a more successful coach at Barcelona, but it is exactly that personality that is also quite poisonous, it is a personality that would sooner than later divide the public and make the situation unbearable for anyone not on a crusade.

Extra:
I think that Rosell, who is preparing his candidacy, would love to have Mourinho as a part in his campaign, in order to have something entirely different than what Laporta.com offer. In that sense, signing Mourinho now is quite a clever little move, as you are killing your main competitor of his trump card. Unless of course, he has made far too many enemies.

Images:
Barcelona in training.
The Whalestation in Iceland.

Bacalao from now on?

2007-12-09T10:31:00.000Z

Prenote - I woud like to note that this article was written some weeks ago

It all began with Henrik Larsson, a player that was not a semi-god at Celtic, but a God. Larsson was extremely appreciated at Barcelona even well before the Champions League final, where he had a crucial impact on the game when he came on (he gave passes to both Barcelona goals in the game). It was almost a mystery to the press in Barcelona how much the fans loved Larsson, as his goal scoring record was good, but not as good to justify his status, perhaps it was his work rate, that he compared to many other players did not arrive to semi retire and live a good life in the south, but that he came there to work and work hard. He proved to be hungry to prove himself and became a real role model for both Eto’o and Ronaldinho, admired by both players and they always mentioned how much they lurnt from him.

Back to Gudjohnsen, it is never easy to substitute a semi-god (which Larsson became at Barcelona), but he was believed to be a sound signing. Someone who at least would have the same work mentality as Larsson and who had a good record for Mourinho and Chelsea (but as a midfielder). Gudjhonsen started very well, creating goals and scoring goals in his first games when he came on as a substitute. Before he had to chance to truly adjust to his new team he was thrown into the limelight, as Eto’o became injured. Eto’o is a player that who had an amazing record, scoring almost a goal every two games. A player that was not just important for his goals, but he was tactically extremely important, as the defence started with him chasing the opposite players like a lunatic. Gudjohnsen who is a very different players, was suddenly the one who had not just to be the new Larsson, but also the new Eto’o. A task impossible for any striker, only that Gudjohnsen is perhaps more suited as a midfielder.
Gudjohnsen’s track record up until Christmas last year was nothing to be ashamed of, perhaps he was crucified for missing that open goal against Madrid and the fans never really trusted him after that.
It is never easy to come to a team that has just won everything and were now showing alarming signs of complacency everywhere and I mean everywhere. The team never really got going and one title after another was lost and in those circumstances it is extremely difficult for a newcomer to adapt and it was not made any easier, having to be the player supposed to score goals and win games.

January came, and the Spanish Cup season started, in those games it is normally the opportunity for teams to play their second or third choice players. Saviola who at that point was the third striker, started scoring goals, a lot of goals, only that they were against second or third rated teams. A massive media campaign started with everyone shouting for Saviola to play. Saviola is another of those players who is or rather was (as he went to Madrid) loved like their own child by the Barcelona fans. The campaign claimed that he was not being played as he was a burden from the past, a player that was not played due to political reasons (a signing from the past board), that he was much better than Gudjohnsen, oblivious to the fact that Gudjohnsen scored against most major teams (Werder Bremen, Liverpool, Chelsea) and that Saviola had to my memory never scored in an important game. He was simply thought by the media and fans to be a much better player than Gudjohnsen.
Rijkaard seemed to have been influenced by that campaign, a

The campaign led to that Rijkaard, a man who perhaps can be influenced or rather does not want any trouble, started to play Saviola. The opinion amongst Barcelna fans has been divided between those who think that Gudjohnsen is not good enough for Barcelona, even a bad player and those who think that the title was lost when Saviola took Gudjohnsen’s place in the starting team. That the campaign sank Gudjohnsen and his self confidence and if Rijkaard would have trusted in his capabilities (as a striker) the team would have won the league. Those fans think that the club and coach have been unjust to Gudjohnsen and he was never really allowed a chance to really prove himself, that he was discarded far too soon.
When Deco was playing awfully Gudjohnsen should have been given a chance in the position that is probably his best position, an attacking midfielder, but for some reason he was never tried in that position.
From being el bacalao, he became Badjohnsen, and the club seemed to be more than willing to sell him in the summer. He might not be good enough for Barcelona as a striker, even if I am sure they could use him there, but he is definitely a player that could be important in certain games. Like the one at Ibrox Park
With Deco out and only Xavi and Iniesta available, Rijkaard had no choice but to play him. Rijkaard who had hinted at the difficulty of Gudjohnsen getting any minutes (as two teenagers were even ahead of him as strikers) had to trust all his faith in Gudjohnsen. In Glasgow perhaps as the other stars did not shine at all, Gudjohnsen was Barcelona’s best player. Football can have that beautiful turn, when one day you are a nobody and the next day you are a semi –god, or at least someone who is much needed. It is obvious by now that Gudjhonsen is no Larsson and it was a big mistake by the club to flag him as the substitute for Larsson. It won’t be easy to be Deco, but at least his qualities are better matched as a Deco type of player, or he could well be the substitute for a player that perhaps was not much appreciated by the fans, but a player that is essential in the Champions League, especially the hard physical games. A player who probably contributed more than he is grated for as an important part in winning the Champions League. Mark Van Bommel. It could well be that the club and fans will realise that Gudjohnsen is a better player than Van Bommel and that his part is much needed in the midfield, when games are both physical and aggressive.
The kind of player that all teams who aspire to win the Champions League have, look at Gerrard, Van Bommel and Seedorf.
Gudjhonsen is probably not as good as Gerrard or Seedorf, but at least he is of that profile. It is just a shame that it has taken the club one year and a bit to discover and try his real qualities and that is more due to an accident (injuries) than observation.

Here is one of my favourite Bacalao recipes:
Here is one of my favourite Bacalao Recipes, for four people.
Bacalao, celery, tomatoes, diced, raisins, black olives, onion coarsely chopped, pine nuts. Salt and pepper.

De salt the fish (think for 48 hours, changing the water four times). Cut celery to slices, and parboil in boiling salted water. Sauté onion in a little oil and add tomatoes. Add fish after a few minutes and simmer for five minutes.
Add celery, pine nuts, raisins and olives. Cook over low heat for 10 minutes. If necessary, add a little wter. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

minithoughts

2007-12-03T22:02:00.000Z

Messi and Zambrotta, it is true that it is not a connection that is working. I believe that perhaps Zambrotta is used to having someone covering him, when he attacks and as no one does, it schizofrenizes him. A solution to the problem, could well be switching Xavi and Eidur. At least then you will have one player who defends one either side, someone helping out and covering the full backs runs. It is also true that Messi sometimes forgets that there are players around him, and on occasions Zambrotta is free, but Messi tries one of his slaloms. I guess that is fine, when he is winning games, it will be another story and another worry on the days when he doesn't.

This moment has finally arrived, Eto'o is backed. I admit that I fear that he won't be himself. That two crucial injuries will both slow him down and somehow tame him. He needs to be the Lion we all know and want to be. With him, it won't be a problem that Messi doesn't defend (as you can have one player with total freedom, but not more). I sincerely have missed him, he is one of these players that scores at that crucial moment. I remember all these matches when the team played badly, especially away, but we had that goal from Eto'o. That goal that won us so many games. His character can be discussed forever, but it is something the team needs. Someone who never takes a game lightly, someone who has something to prove, every day, every hour, every minute, every second.

It has long been thought that Zambrotta simply doesn't perform well enough at Barcelona. That going forward he doesn't bring much more than Oleguer, that Puyol is so much better and should play in Zambrotta's position. That said Puyol is very good in that position, but against Espanyol he was exposed for the goal that Coro scored from (the person he was supposed to mark Riera's pass). I would like to put the blame further up the field. In previous year the other side was the open motorway and teams used that flank to attack, in some sense a solution has been brought to that by playing Iniesta, who does track back and defend, and Eidur or Deco when he plays. On the other side, the full back is extremely exposed, as Messi defends extremely well, it is just that it is very sporadically and Xavi does run back, but little more than that, he seems totally inefficient at defending. Perhaps he should open his eyes and learn a little more from players such as Cocu, Touré, or Deco.

Is the neurotic moment finally over. Will we be spared those frantic runs by Puyol when he is gesturing the air. Will he be able to impose his captaincy. Will we see Rijkaard shaking his head in that special motion way that he does? Will he holds his hands in front of him hoping to be living a nightmare?
Or has the moment arrived when he shows his balls?

ps. sometimes the scans make the picture better, but int he case of Eto'o/Rijkaard it actually made it worst. It is a nice little drawing. The other ones are so so. Puyol and Rijkaard if you did not notice. Zambrotta and Messi in a moment of intimacy. Rijkaard and his balls. I am still awful at maing faces, shadows are slightly overdone (although fun to do). The main thing I dominate is colours, chose of pictures. I guess the rest is practice, practice and practice.

The Birth of an New Era

2007-11-29T08:47:00.000Z

Look after this kid

Gay star Christ (this one is for you Edwin Mak)

Gay star Christ (first attempt)

thinking in a storm

Contemplating perfection

In the spotlight

Profound Sadness

2007-11-27T13:32:00.000Z

It brings a profound sadness to my soul, heart, eternal internal system, the fall of Ronaldinho. During the world cup in Japan/Sout Korea I was mesmerized by this smiling looking horse galloping across the pitch. I even lit a candle (white one) during the negations with PSG. I really really wanted him to be ours and I really really wanted the love to be eternal. I remember how much happiness Ronaldinho brought the club and me in his first year and how that was matched with titles in the following two years. I never even contemplated that it would come to an end. I thought he was a good kid, kindly hearted and I do remember grandmother's saying what a good person he seemed, his smile was not a commercial smile, but an honest, gentle and sweet one. I never thought all his millions would affect him and he seemed genuinely gentle and humble. I feel cheated by humanity, our beloved humanity somehow seems a bit rotten and poisoned. It saddens me to see how quickly someone can succumb to the hidden traps of glory, success, and praise. How his family are totally blinded by it and seem to be equally enjoying the new lifestyle. I can't say that I am impressed by these expensive looking sunglasses at all times, the golden chains and the cheap looking glamour of the US rappers, more concerned with bling bling than anything else. I actually have come to think that Ronaldinho is more bla bla bla than actually willing to take himself out of this situation. He just seems tired, tired of being a top top athlete. I believe that he would have had the opportunity to enter as one of the greatest footballer ever, he had all the attributes, but somehow he got lost on the way (like so many others of course, but I thought he was different). It also brings the question if it is compatible to be a top top footballer with all the media circus around it. Will you win golden balls, Fifa World player if you don't have the media circus around you and will you be able to maintain that form, not for 2 or 3 years, but for 10 years. If one looks at footballers with a long long career, most of them have not been in the middle of the circus, but happy to concentrate on their job. A footballer. What will history judge?

It is sad, very sad, and I believe what most hurts, is that I have lost a tiny bit of faith in human capacity.

Ps. I have to admit this article was written quickly when I came home after my watercolour class, and I do apologies for its quality. See it more as a brainstorming session.

Lies

2007-11-20T23:01:00.000Z

This is a play that I wrote.

Lies Ingmar
The Characters
Ingimar (brother, 8 years old)
Thorey (sister, 16 years old)
Magnus (brother, 14 years old)
Yrsa (24 years old)

Yrsa and Ingimar are sitting on the grass in the garden of a house.
Ingimar dressed in a black Nirvana T-shirt and Yrsa in a plain white
T-shirt. They are sunbathing. It is sunny outside and you can hear
the birds singing. There is no sound of other people, only birds.

Yrsa: Do you lie?
Ingimar: Yes.
Yrsa: Why?
Ingimar: (trying to look quite cool) Because I want to.
Yrsa: What do you get out of lying?
Ingimar: Everything.
Yrsa: Whom to you lie to?
Ingimar: Dad, mum, Yrsa, Thorey, Magnus.
Yrsa: What do you lie to me?
Ingimar: (Looks at Yrsa, straight into her eyes) Yes.
Yrsa: About what?
Ingimar: A lot.
Yrsa: (Looks confused) Like what?
Ingimar: Don’t know.
Yrsa: Don’t know?
Don’t you think it’s horrible to lie?
Ingimar: No it’s not horrible.
Yrsa: Are you not embarrassed?
Ingimar: No no.
Yrsa: Do you think God wants you to lie?
Ingimar: Yes.
Yrsa: Don’t you think you can go to hell
if you lie?
Ingimar: NO, that doesn’t happen.
Yrsa: To heaven?
Ingimar: Yes.
Yrsa: Are you not embarrassed?
Ingimar: No, for the second time. (Obviously annoyed)
Yrsa: Well, are you going to continue to lying?
Ingimar: Yes.
Yrsa: Why?
Ingimar: Because I want to.
Yrsa: Do you think you can earn money lying?
Ingimar: Yes.
Yrsa: Have you lied to Vidar?
Ingimar: Yes, often.
Yrsa: Are you lying to me now?
Ingimar: No, I am going to later.
Yrsa: (Very worried) When?
Ingimar: Today
Yrsa: Ok.
Ingimar: Yes, I am going to lie to you, mum or dad.

Lies Vidar
The Characters
Vidar (brother, 7 years old)
Yrsa (24 years old)

Living room, Vidar is sitting on a brown leather sofa eating an ice
cream, and Yrsa on the coffee table in front of him, the TV is on
showing one of those talk shows. Behind Vidar there is a window,
leading to a balcony, and there is sunshine outside. Still some of the lights inside are on.

Yrsa: Vidar do you lie sometimes?
Vidar: Sometimes.
Yrsa: Why?

(No Reply)

Vidar Why?
Vidar: I don’t know why.
Yrsa: Do you enjoy lying?
Vidar: No.

(Vidar continues looking at the TV. Not very interested in the
conversation)

Yrsa: Is it ugly to lie?
Vidar: Yes.
Yrsa: Do you sometimes lie to Nanna?

(No reply)

Vidar: To whom do you lie?
Vidar: I don’t know why I lie.
Yrsa: Do you lie to dad?
Vidar: Yes, about sweets and things like that.

(Vidar smiles but looks embarrassed)

Yrsa: Do you lie to mum?
Vidar: Just a little bit.

(Yrsa getting more and more into the conversation)

Yrsa: Do you think you can end up in prison if you lie?
Vidar: No no no.
Yrsa: Do you think you can end up in hell if you lie?
Vidar: No.
Yrsa: What does god say about lying?
Vidar: That you can.
Yrsa: Is it good to lie?
Vidar: (starting to be even more embarrassed)
No.
Yrsa: Are you proud that you lie?
Vidar: No.
Yrsa: Are you embarrassed?
Vidar: Yes.
Yrsa: Are you going to stop lying?
Vidar: Yes
Yrsa: Do you promise?
Vidar: Yes.

(Vidar continues watching the TV and yrsa walks out of the room)

Lies Nanna

The Characters
Nanna: (sister, 5 years old)
Vidar: (brother, 7 years old)
Rikard: (brother’s friend, about 7 years old)
Yrsa: (24 years old)
Emelie: (friend, 24 years old)

A big house made of red bricks with a big garden with lots of
old trees. The front door of the house is made of heavy wood and
surrounded by windows, quite small windows.

The front door opens:

Nanna: (dressed in a red pyjamas on the way to bed after a bath):
Oh it’s them…
(Bong, Nanna is playing with the door. There is sound of people
talking inside the house)

Yrsa: Nanna, do you lie?
Nanna: What is a lie?
Yrsa: Do you always tell the truth?
Nanna: Yepps!
Yrsa: Always?
Nanna: Mmm.
Yrsa: Are you always nice to Vidar?
Nanna: Are you?

(Emelie and Yrsa whisper)

Yrsa: Do you sometimes take his things?
Nanna: Mmm. NO it is him that takes mine.

(Nanna makes a sound of knocking on the window)

Emelie: What happened to that hat?
Nanna: Which hat?
Emelie: That Champions hat.
Yrsa: That was Rikards, Vidars friend.
What happened to that hat?
Nanna: Oh, that hat.

(Nanna gets a smile on her face and then suddenly turns serious
again)

Yrsa: Did you hide it in the chest of drawers?
Nanna: Oh no no.
Yrsa: What!
Nanna: No it was him who was in the chest of drawers
and the hat fell off.
Emelie: Are you lying now?
Nanna: NO.
Yrsa: Well I think so.
Emelie: Why do you lie, Nanna?
Nanna: I don’t lie silly cow.
I have to go.

(The front door closes)

Note -

Recently I have been going through my old work, I found this. I created this play out of a video, kind of much more interesting. The photographs are part of an ongoing thing I was doing. I think I was obsessed with social realism and surrealism. I think I forbade them to smile in front of the camera. On occasions I would kind of dress them up and take them for a walk. To industrious sites. Result? I guess that is not for me to judge.

Interview - Frank Rijkaard - the real thing artversussport

2007-11-11T21:34:00.000Z

A New Year Is Always A New Year - Interview Frank Rijkaard

I met Frank Rijkaard for a brief chat that perhaps did turn out to be as brief as planned. I have to admit that perhaps my first questions were almost like a psychoanalytical session, but I hope they give some insight into what there is behind someone who has tasted a lot of success, but still is able to keep things in perspective. Rijkaard is very impressive in real life; Strong and Tall and Big, with that gaze that projects intensity behind the calm wall of this exterior being.

Q. Where do you belong now? Catalonia, Italy, Spain, Holland or are you just a modern European?
A. To nobody, I just belong to myself. I have had the opportunity to live in many places, take in from all these cultures, but I think I just belong to myself. But I am just myself that is whom I belong to.

Q. What is your relationship with the former colonies of Holland? Do you feel close to them? In what way have they shaped you?
A. Obviously I am (pause) coloured, but my mother is Dutch, my father is from Surinam, you take something with you from all of them and I am very proud, both of my mother and my father, but I see myself as Dutch.
I don't like to talk about people in those terms, as I never think of people like that. People always have this need to put everything in a set box, but I am not like that I never think of this person or that person as this or that. I just think of humans.

Q. In what way does the ego reflect itself as a player and as a coach?
A. It is very different (emphasis on different), when you are a player, you have only yourself to think about, obviously you have to think of the team as well, but it is an individual challenge and responsibility. As a manager it is much harder, not physically of course, but mentally, your responsibility is totally different. You have a whole group to think of.

It seems like Rijkaard is able to keep his integrity intact, and sometimes he seems both aloof and distant from what can be the petty business of competitive football and all that glory surrounding it. Some other coaches want to be in the centre of attention. Demanding higher salary than any player, as it is generally thought that there is the outmost respect for the one who earns the most. He seems able to put his own ego aside, something rare today as those who have tasted all glory, tend to want to keep tasting that glory. Respect is not gained by banging your fist or by shouting, but through that gaze and that tiny raise of a tone. I believe the method of individual responsibility and the guilt that comes with taking advantage of that freedom can be much more effective, even if last years complacency contradicts that. Perhaps this year, with the competition within the squad and embarrassment from last year, self-criticism will take place (on behalf of everyone, players, coaching team, board and the Catalan press).

Q. Do you think that as a public figure you have to adapt positions that perhaps you don't identify with and how do feel about that?
A. I am a coach and these are the things I get involved with, I just stick to my job and don't get involved with issues that have nothing to do with my profession, which is a manager of a football team.

Q. How do you see yourself from other coaches and what do you think of a certain rivalry with some of them? Is it just boring or is it just part of the game? Sometimes it seems a bit like "machos" having something to prove between themselves, at least from a female perspective and in one way you always seemed to avoid that confrontation.
A. It is not really my problem (with an authoritative tone), as I just tend to stay away from it, the press sometimes wants this or that, but as I said it is not my problem really. So I never really have any difficulties with it, as it doesn't affect me.

Q. To be a successful coach, even if there is no strict formula, how much percentage would you apply to:
Institutional relations, relations with players, relations with press, tactical knowledge?
A. There is no such formula, sometimes it is due to the players, sometimes it is due to the coach or the fans, or the press, it just depends on each situation and it changes.

As it has been well documented Barcelona lost the title to Real Madrid, even if the title was only decided in the final game, it was thought that Barcelona lost the title well before that. I had an instinct, perhaps based on my Icelandic grandmother’s elves instinct that it would be a dry year (and the year before it was an instinct of glory), which perhaps made me look for signs, but the complacency was there, already before Christmas, the eyes of the players when they went on the pitch did not match the determination of previous years. It could have been down to a variety of reasons, but one is that Rijkaard had lost that control of the dressing room, he had lost the virtue that perhaps was his biggest virtue, the don of complex dressing room psychology.

Q. Now everyone seems to call for you to become a tough guy, is it not almost impossible to suddenly be someone with a machine gun? Is it old fashioned and archaic to impose that kind of authority. Is it possible to suddenly change the whole method of working?
A. It is not really about being a tough guy, to suddenly have to be different. It is just that you have to act as soon as you see something you don't like. We as managers have to take actions, when they are needed, rather than allow it to self-digest. Last year there were some internal problems, and we want to act quicker, be more on top of things. We (I think he is referring to the team) will just have to go back to the hard work and be a unit, to have solidarity between us.

The club in some ways or another suffers from the so called Cruyff Ghost, it shapes philosophies, the current board is mildly pro-Cruyff. The media is keen for the club to adapt the philosophy of attacking football, forgetting that in modern football that is almost utopian. In the Champions League there is no way you can get away with a light weight midfield and one of the tactical base of the team that Rijkaard had shaped: defensively solid, aggressive in retrieving the ball and cohesive. The year the Champions League was won, the club did not concede a single goal from open play, it had a fierce defence (that started with Eto’o). That was all forgotten with success. Suddenly players were not willing to put in that extra gear. The press started to promote the idea of an all attack. This year they have already invented the ridiculous name The Fantastic Four, it remains to be seen if Rijkaard will stick to his own idea of a mixture of Italian football and an attacking football or if he will go for the cryout of The Fantastic Four. The pressure is on.
My belief is that Henry was signed to keep the other strikers (especially Ronaldinho) under pressure, in previous years most of his substitutions (Ezquerro, Gudjhonsen, Saviola) seemed two or three scales below him, even in his worst form. So far the four signings that have been made (Yayá Touré, Milito, Abidal and Henry) are all players that most likely will make the first eleven, which will make other players (such as Márquez, Deco, Xavi) try that bit harder.

Q. In a way both Ronaldinho and Henry are used to total freedom on the pitch, is it not impossible in modern football to play both of them?
A. We will try things out, especially now in pre-season, but if it doesn't work then only one of them will have to play

Q. Sometimes it seems like Barça have no Plan B, at least last year (something that was very successful in previous year) and why is that? Sometimes it feels like the team has a certain difficulty in progressing, defending from corners, change of tactics, scoring from corners?
A. People say last year was so bad, but we conceived the same goals, so I am not sure that is true, obviously it was not a successful year, but we are here to work hard on achieving our goals. I don't really want to talk of last year, as that is last year. We have to think of what is in front of us. The past doesn't matter. We just have to wait and see.

Q. What plans do you have in mind for Eidur Gudjhonsen?
A. It is a bit difficult to say, as he is injured at the moment. He has a knee problem. I could say that he is a great player, good person, but it is not possible at the moment to evaluate the situation fully. Last year was a difficult year, for the team and for him, and this year the competition will be even higher, we will just have to see.

Q. Was there an external pressure on applying 3-4-3 or is that system plainly utopic?
A. We tried it out once, and it worked in an excellent way. We wanted to surprise and we did as manner, as we went through that qualification. Then we wanted to try it in other games, but it just did not work, so I guess that was that really, as it wasn't a surprise anymore.

Q. I think what made the team so successful was the combination of beauty and team spirit.
A. I don't agree there, work and hard work has always to come first, you have to work hard as a unit and then maybe, but maybe beauty can come on top of that, but beauty can never ever come first, it just doesn't work like that.

Q. What can we learn from last year (somehow insisting) ?
Can you describe your emotions over the last two years from Paris to Tarragona?
A. Well you always learn something, and also from last year. It is obvious that perhaps it was not a great success, but I don't really want to talk about the past, it is the past and we just have to take that experience into this year and work hard, something we are doing.

There were rumours earlier this summer, that the coaching team was contemplating a change of captaincy, not for the first one, but on the second and third (an idea that seems abandoned now). It was thought that Xavi the third captain was too bland and Ronaldinho too bad of an example. Rijkaard said at the end of last season “That Puyol had felt isolated at times”, referring to his captaincy and authority within the dressing room.

Q. What do you want from a captain? What is the difference between the first, second and third?
A. A captain is an authority within the group, chosen by the dressing room, and it has to be someone who has the respect of the other players and is there to deal with any issues that come up, and he is a very important figure within the group. The other captains are his assistants; they are there to help the first captain and Carles Puyol is our real Captain.

Barcelona have strong tradition of bringing up players from the youth teams. In most cases they are allowed to grow in to the first team, slowly, allowing a certain progression. There is a risk that with the explosion of Messi (where they intended on a slower progress, which was made impossible with his sheer talent) that each player coming up will be expected to be The New Maradona. This year expectations on both Bojan Krkić (16) and Giovanni Dos Santos (17) are high and it is thought that rather than being squad members, gaining experience they will the 5th and 6th striker of the first team.

Q. How and what approach do you take in the educational aspect of the players, not only regarding sport performance, but also personal development?
A. If they need help I help them. It depends on each individual. Some players are very open-minded and are willing for that help, while others for whatever circumstances are more closed, making it more difficult to enter, but I always try to be there in case they need something,

Q. What is the best way of integrating youth team players?
A. You don't, they basically integrate themselves. The players see when somebody has talent and it just goes from there. Nothing can stop talent.

Q. What was your impression of the club, when you first came and how do you look at it now?
A. When I first arrived, everything was new, after some time, you know how it works, you know it is a complicated club, you know that is more than a sentiment, that it represents something else, but you just have to work and concentrate on that, I never really get involved with those external questions as I just want to be professional and concentrate on my job, and do it as well as I can and it is an honour to coach this club.

It looked like the season would be affronted with maximum excitement and optimism, that the club had bought well and wisely. It was believed that the past had served as a learning curve, but unfortunately it does not look that way. It is not that the team has played badly in the three games this season, but it is a mirror image of the past year. It is more like a collection of individuals rather than a team unit and rather than the new players will put pressure on the old ones, it is feared that they the old players have passed their complacency on them. The board is rumoured to be looking at other options at the bench and that Rijkaard has until 7 October to enhance the play and put some order in the dressing room.

Can Rijkaard possibly reconduct the situation, is he really the right man for the job? Or is the old cliché that what you fell for in your lover is what you end up annoying the most.

Images

Uefa Champions - Not much to say really, one of those press conferences. I actually wanted to do another one, but lost the image, where I really liked the squares/patterns the adverts behind make. Next time.

Storming - watercolour - alright, messed up Rijkaard's nose and the face of the anonymous Barça player. I think this was against Chelsea, when he was very very angry.

Storming - dry pastels - alright.

Fish shop - Another of those made on the oooo aaa iii watercolour paper. I like it, finally it works. I think.

Container - The scan is awful, it is one of the first ones I am satisfied with and actually manages to look better on paper than scanned. The paper I used is a "SERIOUS WATERCOLOUR" paper (think said about Coltrane - Serious Jazz), it was left by a friend and oooo aaaa iiii - so nice to use.

By the way, that interview was made in the summer, late summer for my countries papers. It was almost a surreal experience. My first ever interview and eye to an eye with the man himself. I will tell you more later. There are some amusing anecdotes.

Smásaman (bit by bit, poc a poc)

2007-11-04T21:48:00.000Z

I have to admit I am really happy with this one. This is Frank. Rijkaard, I think last year after the game at Stamford Bridge. He is in thi middle of sea of blue/white flags.

This is kind of what I am aiming for. I just did the background too be honest, but this is what I am striving for with my watercolours. Long way to go and I guess the beauty is not knowing if I will reach there.

I kind of like this one.

Think I like this. Just have to make a watercolour out of it.

I was happy when I made this one, although I made a total mishap/mess of the stairs. Guess I can always photoshop... But no.

I was sad when I made this.

The two sketches of the fish shop in central Reykjavík don't serve for much apart from the "so called creative process".

This is kind of the finished version, although I might re-do it.

Interesting (said in the British way). The colours were totally mis interpreted in the scanning process.

This was the first one. I kind of like the floaty effect on the walls, but it is not really what I am looking for.

On the way somewhere. The originial image was not so so interesteing but I do like putting down names and incidencies (look at the Messi one from Copa America in a previous post). Sometimes a mistake is what makes it. Sometimes not.

Child Labour or in the name of Family

2007-11-02T15:17:00.001Z

I think at this moment I was influenced by Sally Mann, later it became more conceptual (perhaps).

Yrsa - In the past I have used my family for this and that, especially in the name of "art".
This was one of those occasions, where I not impulsively made something up, but actually thought it all through. I a sure it is written in a notebook which is now kept somewhere. I was very active, always writing things down and of course thinking of future master pieces.
This was a video I wanted to make, which had my brother acting in it.
He was taken to an area in Malmö full of factories, and asked to sit at this table shooting a rice corn by rice corn into the air. Yes one of these sufferable arty videos. No editing needed. Great actor.

Magnús - My brother later claimed this:
the story is lacking the dimension of time.

I did this for 2 x 2hours.

my payment: a chocolate pastry.

whohooo!

My friend Emelie, came with me, she had some kind of a key to a student film group, we entered there on a sunday and borrowed the camera, to make the video.
I wonder where the tape was. This was one of the many "activities" that we did to keep ourselves off the street.

Magnus is wearing my jacket and t-shirt. and I think Emelie is wearing my jumper and trousers. We borrowed my parents Volvo station, packed in a table, sacks of rice, and off we drove.

Rangers versus Barcelona

2007-10-23T18:18:00.000+01:00

Barcelona is a club that is not always easy to comprehend; it is often referred to as the unarmed army of Catalunya. Perhaps the result of the club being such an important institution in Catalunya is that there is almost always a power struggle at the club, or surrounding the club. A power struggle that divides rather than unites and is often more harmful than helpful.

After a year full of disappointments the question was not if the club needed a revolution or not, it was if it should be a brutal or subtle revolution. The board and coaching team opted for a subtle one, and rather than looking for a scapegoat, they decided to reinforce the team with first team players who would make no player feel that they would play whatever their performance, not even Ronaldinho, Eto’o or Deco. The players would not be allowed to relax; there would be no time for complacency. Logic said that existing players were not really that bad, they are even world class, it was just that they were not hungry anymore, were not willing to put in that extra bit of scarification that is needed at top level in order to fight for trophies consistently. That logic is proven to have been correct, even though at the beginning of the season nothing seemed to have changed. Performances were half-hearted, Rijkaard seemed distant and it was even thought he was quite close to being sacked. How quickly things change in football.
It may be a coincidence that with Ronaldinho’s absence the team began to perform, and they reassembled the side that took the world by storm. Strong in defence, aggressive at retrieving the ball and lightning quick en-route to goal. Ronaldinho seems to have the effect of slowing games down, as everything needs go through him, he uses more touches than Iniesta, who is simply playing much better than Ronaldinho. Ronaldinho who has not really performed consistently since the final in Paris 2006, has almost become a burden for the team, admittingly a luxurious burden. With Henry still adapting, Eto’o out with a knee injury and Ronaldinho kind of missing Messi has taken over the crown as the teams star and he is the one they look for when in need of a result or to make things happen. His form since his comeback from injury last season has been sensational. He is scoring crucial goal after goal, creating master pieces in almost every game and is still only 20 years old. The team does not consist of only Messi and Iniesta as three of the four signings this summer have been of an extreme importance in becoming defensively secure. Abidal is simply a Defender, in a serious mould, Milito seems to have played in the team all his life and Touré, Yaya Touré (Arsenal’s Kolo Touré’s younger brother) is perhaps the most important signing of them all. It is no coincidence Rijkaard’s main headache for the game against Rangers is getting Touré fit, which will be tight. He is the kind of player they so much missed last year, not only a strong and physical presence at that crucial defensive midfielder position, but he is also a neat passer of the ball and wins almost every aerial ball. He will be needed against a physical and aggressive side such as Rangers. If Touré won’t be fit, it is likely that Iniesta will play there, which will be a huge advantage to Rangers, as he is frail, even if he does recuperate more balls than you would think due to his intelligence, but that will also result in the rest of the formation being predictable, not only on paper, but also on the field. Messi’s and Iniesta’s quick passing play has brought out the best in both Henry and Deco, while Ronaldinho’s slow pace makes it much easier for the opposite to gain position and defend themselves. With Iniesta and Messi at the front, it will be Rangers who will have to be alert to their interchanging of positions, where you never really know where the danger might come from.
Barcelona is suffering various injuries to their backline and they will suffer if both Márquez and Touré are out (they are their best players at defending high balls). The fantastic results Rangers have gained mean that Barcelona will have to take the match extremely seriously if they are going to stay top of the group. It will remain to be seen if Rangers manage to surprise Barcelona and get a result or if the nerves of Catalunya will be calmed and not calling for a new revolution.

Baloons At Camp Nou

2007-10-17T10:37:00.001+01:00

The second or perhaps the third in the series football through watercolours.

The Kops - Liverpool Liverpool

2007-10-15T17:34:00.000+01:00

Endless endless herds of scarves.

three attempts at training in an empty stadium

2007-09-27T20:03:00.001+01:00

The Past

2007-09-09T19:05:00.000+01:00

This is the beginning of my fascination for chess, although if you look clearly you can see why I never made the grade. This is shortly after the chess became a sexy sport in Iceland and somehwere on my blog you can see my art piece (part of it) on the meeting between Fischer and Spassky.

For some reason I find this photograph, very Bergmanesque. I am sneaking through my mothers tapestry.

This is an all time favourite. I sent it to a friend who was/is working with Baltasar Kormákur, and this was one of the inspiration images, for the main character. The film is filmed on Flatey - where I was baptised and it was a huge inspiration for the weaver. I think Guðmundur Páll took the picture.

Last Year Against Bremen

2007-08-21T15:11:00.001+01:00

Remember that goal?

One of his two actions that are worth remembering.

More more and more to come

2007-08-13T22:43:00.000+01:00

Double Portrait - so true to reality it is scary

Another attempt at decomposing reality

Not even sure, why I am showing this. Thought one should wash ones dirty underwear at home...

I think the pictures work better not enlarged.
Think I am much better free styling, than capturing reality, or maybe like Sveinn Rúnar said - that I am a born surrealist. So reality will just never work.

New Drawings

2007-08-06T23:19:00.000+01:00

Messi Against Brasil (or three beasts) - Copa America 2007

The Tower of Babel

Messi Against Brasil - Copa America 2007

Silent Week

2007-07-30T10:33:00.000+01:00

This Week is a Week of Mourning.

One of my Absolut top Hero has passed away.

Thank you Ingmar for everything you left, an amazing body of work, if only everyone would have your hunger for wanting to delved into the human psyche, and that insatiable thirst for life, something I hope will inspire me to the age of 89.

I will listen to your last interview for the Swedish Radio this week.

Hrafnista Staccato

2007-07-27T10:43:00.000+01:00

This is kind of a Staccato account of the Old People's Residency - Hrafnista - where my grandmother lives. On the edge of the world, surrounded by Lava and Elves.

Spontaneous happening -- occurring, you just have to be alert and open up your sensibilites.

The Elves surroundings are the ones of the land of the elves, there is a walk
where my grandmothers friends live, even if she does not want to talk about it, at least not on record. Each time it is off the record my ears raise up, I am so desperate to remember each single word of it, that I just forget.

Rooms, inside the Rooms

People waiting for?

The dance on Fridays
This is my favourite activity, I love looking at the people, some of them far too old to walk, but for a moment, nothing can stop the remembrance of youth.

Activities
I love them, I love to take part in them, going to the cinema, going to the old Whale station, taking part in "puttinu" - the mini golf (where people do cheat, I have seen that with my own eyes, cheating does not stop at an old age)

Things and its story

The stone collection, imitating each moment of a long life.

Journeys from the Past

God and Politics, not sure which subject is hotter.

The Lava and the Sea

Questions about the old country side, SVEITINA, it is something extremely romantic, as almost all of the population lives in the capital area. Romantic.

Sigriður - the artist, I was desperate to talk to her, but she kept escaping me, embarrassed about the decreasing health, a real shame as I sincerely thought some of her waterc-olours were sensational.

the Woman on B2, this is an old friend of my Grandmother, that I always have to go and visit. I once about 7 years ago went everyday for lunch there, and she was my lunch friend, on the last day she looked me deeply in the eyes and said:
I am really sad, tomorrow is going to be such a sad day. You won't be having lunch with us tomorrow.
Since then I obviously pay my dept of respect.

Leifur the Poet

Lovísa the friend

Hobbies, card playing, not sure if it is for money, picking up women (yes that occurs even when you are 80), bringing home a one night stand.

The Cod War

The elevator, which is like a highway in rush hours.

Portraits of People and Portraits of Boats

Working Anecdotes

2007-07-15T20:21:00.000+01:00

More Working Anecdotes

Like Edwin mentioned in the previous post, there was this Chinese Women, who came in with a surgenons mask. Always on Sunday double bills. I allow Edwin’s words to recall the story:
“Limping with her walking stick past two sets of heavy fire-doors to complain of phantom cigarette smoke, "I AM CHOKING", whilst miming a strangling gesture round her throat. What was really odd was that she repeated it three times, then returned to the screen.”
She would allows visit the disabled toilet, always. I have to admit we sometimes used that toilet to cure hangovers… Or just to have a momento of piece. I once used it to my shift co-workers annoyance, for something truly special. It was something I had been waiting forever to do and that day I had bought new toe nail clippers. So I spent ages in the toilet in order to cut my toe nails. Back to the Chinese Women, one time the disabled toilet was not locked, to her fury, she wanted us to lock it so no one could use it, apparently all disabled people have a key. In revenge she left her dirty knickers on the toilet seat. She also always wanted us to clean it, something I refused to do.

Mr 1 - who had the only tatoo I like. Extremely funny in his mental bourgeoise Brazilian way.

There was also this old man, who was extremely strange, he had some kind of illness and would start screaming and swearing, tourette’s syndrome. He came up to me to introduce himself, after a long chat, where he was clearly scratching his bottom, from within the trousers (you know what I mean), did he reach out his hand to introduce himself. I have never ever wanted to clean my hands as urgently as that time. I also remember the conversation consisting of prison and prisoners in Iceland.

Mrs 1 - at the Christmas Party

Another one from Edwin:
“I think you forgot to mention asking one of the main distribution representatives, who was English (white English), "are you a triad?". Rob Kenny loves recounting that one, as he had to apologise on your behalf.”

I became obsessed with the Triads, found them so fascinating and as they were always in there counting money and ticking things off, I used to ask for a tip. Just straight out: I see you have money, can you tip me, which they would often do. I think I was the only one who actually really liked them. I also made an art piece on them or their relics.

A normal day at Curzon...

Customer Complaints

2007-07-11T23:04:00.000+01:00

I worked in this cinema some years ago and as I visited London last week I popped in to visit some of my friends. I suddenly remembered some anecdotes. I think I was one of the staff members who collected most customer complaints. And I don't really know why.

The complaints:

• I remember this one woman, who sounded fairly posh, like a woman from Old England, if that says something. After a brief conversation, where she booked her tickets, with a certain arrogance or not, I can't recall, but upon asking if she could pay by a card, I answered, sure, if you have any money on your card. Something which did not particularly please the woman. How stupid of me not to remember that you can't talk of sex, money or anything in public.

• The cinema was showing this gay friendly movie, there were always men in their fifties coming to see them on their own in the day. Leading to the screen there is a long corridor. This time a man arrived fifty minutes in to the film. I am annoyed myself when people come in at all hours distracting everyone from the purpose of them being there; the movie. I stood up from my comfortable usher chair and asked the man quietly and fairly gently, although he could have mistaken my accent for aggression
- Can I see your ticket please?
- "I am late and it is none of your business"
- Well, it kind of is my job to see your ticket
The man just stood there for a long time shouting, not wanting to show his ticket, upon which I was quite keen to refuse him entry. We don't really allow customers in after 15 minutes and this was well 45 minutes in to the film. His shouting and disrespect for the people in the screen, did not really raise my symphaty for him.
I decided not to let him in and we squabbled for a bit, me quietly and him shouting, and after some time I just gave up and mumbled to myself Oh you are such a pain in the ass, I turned round and walked out of the corridor. The man ran after me, breathing in to my nostrils (almost) " I am not a member of my family" and all I could say was Thank God I don't have to Spend Christmas with you as well..
Hmmm, he wanted me sacked and really badly.

Tip Jar
I had this picture on the counter with the sentence: "Please Help Me To Bring Food On The Table"; it did not only make me happy that the tip jar was full, but I also gave me a profound sense of hope that people are so gullible. Not for a vicious manipulative reason, but I find it a Hope for the humanity.

The Myth of the Octopus

2007-07-08T15:45:00.000+01:00

On my recent trip to London, I remembered everything I like about it, but also things that led to me leaving.
What obviously most strikes me is that it is such a cosmopolitan city, you can almost visit a corner of the world on each corner (I know that is a bit of a cliché) and the mass of humans. I also like the raw energy that London brings, it is unpolished and somehow people seem to survive on the basis of creativity.

One of my favourite things to do is my usual visit to Edgware Road, it is recommended that you enter the area via Marylebone, a very classy area, the houses are nice, with some small streets where you can get lost. In some way there is nothing on Edgware Road, it is ugly, but urban. We almost always stop by to have some Middle Eastern cakes in a shop on Bell street and Oh my goodness how good they are. I more than strongly recommend the pistachio covered dates ( I am still having the water taste in my mouth), while discussions are rife (Anglo-Saxon type), then we troddle down Edgware Road, trying to see as much as possible, even enjoying the moment of being stuck under neath the bridge, the highway, the urban crosspoint packed with as much concrete as possible. Finally we settle down at one of the coffee places, ordering a strong arabic coffee and a cake, the discussions continue on this point (I think this time it was based on Hampstead and the Old England, and my fascination of humans being English and at the same time my problematic nature in that country, where my directness gets me in all kinds of problems. On the stroll towards Marble Arch we came by this Syrian shop where we bought an ice cream and thank my mother it was just one. It was shaped in a tube and it was cut and then squeezed down with the shop keepers hand (yes, he wore gloves), it was kind of a chewy texture, pistachio flavoured and yes I am obsessed with pistachios, not very sweet and kind of a surprising flavour. I will be back for more.

On the way back to Highgate, where we were going for this Greek restaurant, which we have wanted to visit for some time, we came across a strange thing. McDonald's, it was a designer version of a McDonald's, green, with fancy lights and all neat and tidy, a Habitat version of a McDonald's. They are perhaps going upmarket.

The Greek Restaurant, is called Ta Dalina and we came across it on a stroll through Highgate/Hampstead last summer. Outside was an old man smoking, and his peacefulness was something that captured my attention, we stopped and looked inside and all I remember was the dried thyme hanging from the ceiling and this huge octopus in the fridge. We almost cancelled all our meetings that night, so obsessed we became. The visit did not occur that time, but since then I have savoured the business card with the greatest care. The octopus was a memory that has travelled all the way to Berlin and one of my true good friends Lisa was in London that weekend too. The rumours of this giant octopus got her curious and it was almost a moment which made everyone tense, as it was impossible to know if Ta Dalina was going to live up to our words. We saw the old man again, who was the cook, the octopus had been made into a giant one, while it was actually just a proportion of a giant one. I kept it silently within me, but I was worried the myth was going to evolve into a nightmare. Everything we had was so nice, so good, so tasty, the lamb was absolutely delicious, the proportions were far more than generous and yes the octopus was amazing. The lady of the smoking man, charmed each one of us and we even ended up loving both of them. It even ended in a very familiar atmosphere, where we were the last customers and the man lit up his last cigarette in the restaurant (as the non smoking law was hitting in the next day).

The day only started at 4 pm, but the intense moments can be the most memorable ones.

Long and a slow painful fall

2007-07-03T12:27:00.000+01:00

The warnings have been there most of the season. Last season ended on a high, the club was European Champion and won La Liga almost half way through the season. There was no one as pretty, as clever, intelligent or sexy as that team. The football was applauded as the best in Europe, most team were compared to the GREAT Barça. The one who managed to combine the romantic idea of beautiful football and success.
It was even seen as a positive thing that most Barça players had a bad World Cup as they would be hungry for success. Even the summer signings were astute and sound.

It was not going to be.

The first warning came with the European Super Cup, Barcelona were still in Paris, and it was a sad to see the team unprepared, having spent the pre season visiting Nasa and the like while Sevilla had studied the game meticulously. Ronaldinho had been allowed to take part in some advertising shot hours before the game. Needless to say the result was 3-0 to Sevilla.

The preparation for the season was absolutely appalling, it was thought that the team had enough resources to just go through games and then at some stage the form would follow. That never happened and with the hungriest player injured (Eto’o) the team started to struggle, in Europe and in the league, but as this was not really of concerned to arrogant fans, board and players it was not taken seriously. No plan was in hand for the mid season training that existed before some players in the dressing room decided that la Dolce Vita was better for success than hard work and dedication. The decline in dedication creeped in already in last season, after the 3-0 at Bernabeu, it was then that Rijkaard started to give way to some players wishes to train less and party harder. With success and hunger though it was not transparent, once that has been received the fuel has not been recharged and the result is this season.

By Christmas the hope was on the Interncontinental cup was lost, a title that Barcelona do not have and one that the team was expected to win. This team the blame was laid on jet lag. Barcelona hardly seemed to have studied their rivals Internacional, once again the arrogance and the self-belief failing them.

Barcelona were unlucky to have two of their best players injured for the first part of the season and had struggled to settle, the form had not been found, with Eto’o and Messi back it was all supposed to be back to the normality of winning games in style and with conviction. The team is just not back; it seems to still drift in the clouds of victories from last year. Almost all players (with the exception of Valdés, Iniesta and Messi) are playing worse than last year. The reasons are many, but the lack of professionalism is obvious, from the board, to the coaching team, to the team itself. They hardly train and have not bettered themselves on any front. It is a mystery why they still defend corners and free kicks so appallingly, they don’t seem to be able to kill of opponents when needed and get punished by last minute goals. The physical level of the team in the second halfs is alarming, they often tend to cry for the game to end and have been lucky endless times with minute saves by Valdés.

They are inconsistent in attack and naïve at the back.
Struggling to win away from home and now even at home, it is not surprising the league has slipped out of their hands. The president lacks authority and allows certain players absolute freedom in life, which includes partying, adverts and egos uprisings. The coach is permissive to certain players, which has created a tension in the dressing room between the lovers of life and lovers of training. Suddenly the team has no team spirit and everyone is looking after ones own interest. Rijkaard has lacked tactical astuteness and in no big games have his decisions made a mark. He seems more lost than anyone. Perhaps the rumours that he was just the public image figure and previous assistant coach was the one with the tactical awareness and the one who actually controlled the players. Ten Cate’s subsitute Johan Neeskens, seems to do little else than sudokos on the bench, after eight months no one understands his role.

Barcelona trashed Getafe in the first semi final match with that wonder goal of Messi, which created a state of euphoria. It was thought that the cushion of a 5-2 was enough to put them in the finals; at least a double could be won. But no, Getafe managed to get the result needed, with the Barcelona players wondering lost, not understanding that they actually needed to play the match, that there were 90 minutes left.

Now Real Madrid have overtaken them and the team is battered, a total lack of self confidence, the fans in turmoil, the players divided, the coach lost and it is as pessimistic as the history has always proved. Barcelona are historically a team of suffering and self conflicted pain. Their worst enemy is not Real Madrid, but themselves. The press is even divided, on one side the Laportistas (with Eto’o and Rijkaard) and the other the Rosellistas (with Ronaldinho and Deco), and they are more concerned with allegiances than helping the team to win the third consecutive title. It is even seen as lost, Madrid seems to have won it and the focus is now on who has to go and who can stay.

Whatever happens the harm of this season has already happened and there will be some victims (apart form the club itself). It is very likely some stars will go, the question is who. No one believes that Ronaldinho and Eto’o can defend the same shirt this year after the open wound was cut up, by Eto’o’s famous outburst back in February, it is even likely that Rijkaard himself will go and only then will we understand how he will be missed. If he stays he will need better assistants, who actually compliment him and the club will need to impose a more professional attitude towards competing at the highest level and not a club by Nouveau Richs.

It is a mystery how a club can do a remake of Los Galacticos, in such a short time, all the tics of the team are similar, but it is even a worse crime, as everyone had laughed at the fall of The Galactic Madrid.

The sad thing is that this team might be remembered for the team of les seis no copes, the team of the six non cups, out of the seven cups that Laporta said the team would win, so far only one has been won (the Spanish Super Cup) and the last hope la liga, the league title has slipped out of their hands as Real Madrid lead now.

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This is an article that I published in Iceland some weeks ago.

Brittle or Brush Revolution?

2007-06-23T13:33:00.000+01:00

A brush or subtle Revolution?

This year has been one of a total embarrassment for the club that ended last year on such a high. It is even difficult to know where to start. The blame could be put on so many parts and almost everyone is guilty; the directors, the coach, the players, the press. The directors for allowing certain complacency to take room, for not setting the line and for acting like a Nouveu Riche. For the coach for not imposing professionalism, lack of training, allowing the ego to arise and tactical innocence. The players for acting like spoilt children, thinking of themselves as a superior untouchable being and to think of the individual (oneself) instead of the team. The press for creating a sense of euphoria and being more concerned with their own agenda (supporting Laporta or being anti-Laporta) rather than focusing on being a Barcelonista.

It is just unbelievable that when it is too late, the players are suddenly waking up. When some players like Edmilson and Eiður Smári raised a warning some months ago, they were just seen as crazy. There has been little self-criticism from the team, with the greatest example being Deco, who said after the elimination in the Champions League said: “We are paid to play and not to win”. It was only when Madrid were suddenly ahead of them, something they and almost everyone else thought was impossible, that they woke up. However in the final sprint, they drew at home, in their own stadium, thanks to last minute goals to Betis and Espanyol and only managed to beat Getafe and Mallorca by a single goal. No one deserves a League title, with that brittle result.
The waking up has just arrived too late, not only too late for the title, but even their credibility has run out. I am not sure if there needs to be a brush revolution or a subtle one, but some important changes need to be made. It is not even sure if Frank Rijkaard will continue or not, while I have been a devoted fan of his, it can’t be denied that he has lacked both authority and flexibility during games. Perhaps it is true that he was the PR person, while the former assistant coach Ten Cate, was the one who made the important decisions.

It is true that most teams have learnt how to stop Barcelona and that Rijkaard has tried different methods to surprise the opposite team, but none of them has worked. The most persistent one, in almost all of the important games in 2007 was playing the three tiny little ones (Deco, Iniesta and Xavi). It can’t be a coincidence that no other team plays three small ball players these days. It seems that in modern football you need not one, but two players with a physical presence, this is much more tactics of the past, of a Play station game.

Too be fair, all defensive midfielders have been awful, this year, Edmilson has not been himself; Motta who has had endless opportunities to prove himself and has failed once again and that was his last opportunity and Márquez has had non-field problems.

It seems like the players have gained an immense power and la Dolce Vita has imposed themselves on certain members of the squad, who are everything, but professionals. It will remain to be seen, if some rumours of unbelievable magnitude are true or not of certain players behaviour, but if they are no doubt the club will have to get rid of them. Rijkaard is a man in favour of a laid back nature, but he will have to be more alert in the future, spotting tendencies to destruction of the unity of the team. He was believed to be the ideal coach to deal with the egos of a dressing room, but this year there have been more conflicts than in all previous seasons together. His dealing with the so-called war between Eto’o and Ronaldinho has not been impressive and the root of the problem is still there. No one knows to this stage if both stars will be there next season, but it is almost certain in order to “safe” Ronaldinho his entourage will have to be pushed out. It could well be that all he needs is an assistant coach who acts like the bad guy keeping the players in line and I hope and believe that will complimentary assistants and a refund professionalism it can all be redirected towards success.

The last signs of the season were not exactly promising, as on their tour to South Africa, the club, the very club that wears Unicef on their shirts, were invited to meet Nelson Mandela. To the clubs embarrassment only five players turned up; Thuram, Oleguer, Gio, Iniesta and Belleti and the third coach Eusebio. It is surprising that none of the club captains turned up, nor did the star Ronaldinho or Eto’o, their only African players, so vocal about his continent and racial issues. Not even Frank Rijkaard a coach who openly admires Mr. Nelson Mandela. The act was voluntary and as it was a whole 30 minutes away by car the majority opted for a rest, rather than meeting one of greatest symbols of humanity. It is unbelievable that the club had not made the event compulsory; it was a golden opportunity to put some kind of graciousness to a disappointing season. Only a few hours earlier Laporta had promised that the club would act more rigidly against indolence, but he obviously referred to next season.

I wonder if this has a solution, there was some kind of hope that they would have understood that they actually need to work together in order to receive success, that they need to live day by day, match by match and not in the fumes of celebrations of past or future titles. It is obvious some important players will have to leave and if the rest of the squad has understood that they need to go back to the very basics that made this team successful (sacrifice, team spirit, humbleness) a few signings will be enough, but if not a true revolution is needed.

Written a few days later

Now Henry has arrived, and it is probably not a deal done in the last few days, but has been rushed through in order to sooth the heart and soul of el culé. It remains to be seen if one of the cracks will be sold (i.e. Ronaldinho, Eto’o). Deco is the one likeliest to pay the price for a lame season (and hopefully Neeskens too. It is also still unknown if Rijkaard will have the personality to deal with 4 egos as he has said that two and a half is more than enough. I am not entirely sure if it is just a galactic signing, something I am not proud of, but looking on it positively it was needed for a few reasons:
Next year there will be games twice a week and Messi is prone to muscular injuries and advised not to play more than one per week, Eto’o will be away for the African Cup and Ronaldinho (apart from the question if he is recoverable) needs someone to seriously threaten his place, someone who will be stepping on his toes. There are still some important positions to be filled, as Puyol is out for three months and Edmilson (who was likely to go to Milan, but will now stay) is out for six. The next important signing could well be a replacement for Deco, but let’s not fall in to the trap of Los Galacticos (again) and forget about the crucial position in modern football; the defensive shield in front of the defence.

Ps. i was trying something different with the pictures, but I think it is important to show failure (in order to be human) as well.

Anecdotes and Relics

2007-06-14T18:48:00.000+01:00

Chess Poetry

The Woman Who Did Not Stop Working
There was a women, who had been in the job for some time. it was not that she was stuck there, or that she liked it too much, although it was comfortable. There were other job opportunities that came up, however for some reason or another she never took them up, making her continue in the job she had been in for many years. Some of her bosses went, others came and others stayed. When asked why she never moved on, she did not really know what to answer, the answer did arrive one day, after her death her diaries were found and the stated a fear. As this woman had been very much appreciated, even loved in her job, she had an immense fear of moving on to a new job only to find out the replacement was better and more loved than her.

Chess Relic

CAMPION!!!

2007-06-09T10:28:00.001+01:00

I have got hold of this ground breaking Research from a World Class Institute, it is just hot from the labs and fortunately just in time for the La Liga title race.

FIELDWORK

UNEQUIVOCAL

RADARS

FACTS

ABSTRACT GLOBULES

ABSTRACT CAMOUFLAGE

Congratulations!

2007-06-06T23:05:00.000+01:00

Congratulations AC Milan on winning the Champions League. Here is what they scored in a serious Internation Research Investigation found from a company that will remain secret until final investigation is concluded.

Drawings

2007-05-15T10:28:00.000+01:00

Domestic Propaganda

Life

Metropolitan City

This Is The End

2007-05-11T13:59:00.000+01:00

Listen to the mortal song This Is The End by Nico.

Is This Not What We Wanted?

2007-05-09T08:08:00.001+01:00

We Wanted More Emotion ! Or ?

Last year Barcelona won the league in February, not mathematically, but theoretically, as there was no opponents, they could basically decide when it suited them to celebrate the title (kind of timed due to crucial games in the Champions League). It was almost boring, the title had no emotions, we said at the time. How we were wishing for a strong Madrid to come back, for a Valencia to count on. Now we might not think so anymore. It is never simple enough.

Last year
We remembered the golden times of La Ligas de Tenerife, the titles that were won on the last day of the competition, the very last day and even the very last minute. It was always more due to the failure of the other, rather than by own merit. We remembered how great it felt to almost steal it at the expense of the other. We remember with sentimentality how little we felt for Dukic, who missed that very famous penalty, the one which would have given Deportivo their first ever title, but no he missed it, and Barça who did do their homework won their game and out we all went pouring on the streets in an ecstatic joy. Or those leagues that we won thanks to Tenerife gaining a result against Madrid, that was not once, but twice we won the league in that fashion.
OOOOO how we long for those times, last year, sentimentality was creeping in, the Golden era of the Dream Team, the team that won three out of its four league titles on the last day. But it was never about winning, it was about a certain style, at least at the time, now with Gaspart’s Dark Era in mind, still worn as a scar on the soul we are not so sure anymore. Is it about winning, about humiliating the other or is it about taking sides. How schizophrenic we can be, wishing for all wishes at the same time, causing some kind of a mental crash. Last year was so last year, while we got bored with that, it somehow would have felt quite good to have the title in port, the suffering now is unbearable. How does boredom compare to suffering? Or is it not suffering we are used to? Should we not feel not swim in the sea that feels familiar? But remember with el culé nothing is normal and everything is normal. While yesterday seems better, tomorrow seems obscure and the future dark.

Backlawa or Balaklava

2007-05-01T13:36:00.000+01:00

Baklawa

Ingredients:

Syrup:
3 cups sugar, or 2 cups sugar and 1 cup honey
1 1/2 cups water
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 (3-inch) sticks cinnamon (optional)
4 to 6 whole cloves, or 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom (optional)

Filling:
1 pound blanched almonds, pistachios, walnuts, or any combination, finely chopped or coarsely ground (about 4 cups)
1/4 cup sugar
1 to 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves or cardamom (optional)

1 pound (about 24 sheets) phyllo dough
About 1 cup (2 sticks) melted butter or vegetable oil

Preparation:

1. To make the syrup: Stir the sugar, water, lemon juice, and if using, the corn syrup, cinnamon sticks, and/or cloves over low heat until the sugar dissolves, about 5 minutes. Stop stirring, increase the heat to medium, and cook until the mixture is slightly syrupy, about 5 minutes (it will register 225 degrees on a candy thermometer). Discard the cinnamon sticks and whole cloves. Let cool.

2. To make the filling: Combine all the filling ingredients.

3. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 12-by-9-inch or 13-by-9-inch baking pan or 15-by-10-inch jelly roll pan.

4. Place a sheet of phyllo in the prepared pan and lightly brush with butter. Repeat with 7 more sheets. Spread with half of the filling. Top with 8 more sheets, brushing each with butter. Use any torn sheets in the middle layer. Spread with the remaining nut mixture and end with a top layer of 8 sheets, continuing to brush each with butter. Trim any overhanging edges.

5. Using a sharp knife, cut 6 equal lengthwise strips (about 1 3/4 inches wide) through the top layer of pastry. Make 1 1/2-inch-wide diagonal cuts across the strips to form diamond shapes.

6. Just before baking, lightly sprinkle the top of the pastry with cold water. This inhibits the pastry from curling. Bake for 20 minutes. Reduce the heat to 300 degrees and bake until golden brown, about 15 additional minutes.

7. Cut through the scored lines. Drizzle the cooled syrup slowly over the hot baklava and let cool for at least 4 hours. Cover and store at room temperature for up to 1 week. If the baklava dries out while being stored, drizzle with a little additional hot syrup.

Preparing the turkish coffee:

The End:

The Return of The Ego

2007-04-22T14:22:00.000+01:00

The Return of the Ego

For three years, the Barcelona fans had the indulged in the attitude of their team. It was a team with few egos or where egos where able to co exist and one of the traits of the team was just humbleness and self-scarification of the other.

It only took three years for it to disappear; only a few months after the European cup had been won the first warning signs were there. It all started with Joan Laporta boasting that the team would win all seven titles, the exact opposite of what were the staples of the board, the coach and the team in the beginning, but I guess that is what happens when you have not won anything for five years. I choked on Laporta’s comments and thought that the Karma would come back to haunt him, to haunt us.
So far all titles (but one) have been lost.

Sevilla in the European super cup final trashed Barcelona, who had not taken off their smoking from the night before, where they received many awards in a spectacular gala. While Sevilla had been preparing for the game in all seriousness Barcelona were jetting around America in a Globetrotter fashion, believing it would be an easy match. After all they were the European Champions.

Laporta’s comments have hurt, like Rijkaard has reminded us so many times, you cannot even think such thoughts, on occasions you can rely on pure talent, but will also goes a long long way, especially if the opposites teams thoughts are elsewhere.

The warnings have been there all season, while the team has been playing poorly in all but perhaps 45 + 90 + 45 + 30 minutes this season, there have been all kinds of excuses, the world cup, the lack of pre season training, injuries, but the fact is that the team has lost all principal values: humbleness, self scarification for the other and self criticism.
The egos have taken over and for the first time there are camps in the dressing room. Those on the Brazilians side and the other ones. Those who train hard and those who hardly train at all. Those who breathe football and those who breathe life.

Over these years Deco’s ascendancy over the dressing room has been prominent, he is a magnificent player who was one of the chief reasons for Barcelona’s success, but as his influence at the time was positive, it has now turned negative. He is very clever, has an astute technical sense, but he is also very manipulative and has that charismatic leadership that can be so constructive, but also so destructive. It is called the Rise of Deco Power. He has imposed the Brazilian way of working, that proved to be successful, but like so many methods has an expiry date. It is a working method that bases itself on joy, freedom and individuality. While it lasted it worked wonders, but what should have happened is that during success the team should have worked harder on becoming even better, there were signs even then: the lack of corners scored, the difficulty in defending corners and free kicks, the lack of killing off opponents etc. The team has simply not become better, it has stagnated and that plus lack of fitness, plus lack of hunger, self criticism, over belief in one self as an individual (not as a unit) is what we are seeing this year. Why has Deco not been stopped, how come he has been allowed this immense power on the dressing room (some even say he dictates who plays and who does not), well one reason is obviously Frank Rijkaard, a man who believes in flexible authority, rather than authority through fear, and it did worked for some time. Lets not forget he had Ten Cate on his side last year, who took on the part of authority. What does Neeskens do apart from Sudokos? Perhaps when the ego rises to unbearable proportions, no method works. Once a player believes he is more important than the team, it is time to go. I sincerely hope that Rijkaard’s way is the way to go, as I always believed in self criticism, or as Xavi puts it “How do you feel when the coach comes to you and asks, looking you deeply in your eye – you did not follow my instructions”, but like so many other members of the team (board, players, coaches etc) he will have to do some serious reflection on how to affront the situation and if he has the hunger to affront another season. I am sure in the summer some players will arrive, as so far the players have sensed their position is secured however badly they play, and others have sensed that whatever they do they can’t enter the team, there will be both additions of serious threats to first team and squad members, as the group will have to be shaken up from complacency.

The situation is simple: It has no solution. It is the behaviour of a Nouveau Riche, of spoilt kids. It is such a shame as last year I felt so proud over my team, the effort everyone put in, the will of going in the same direction, the hunger in their eyes, but also the kindness in their eyes.

Like they all learnt to gain success, the transformation of losers into winners, they will now learn to digest success, the co existing of humans, rather than clash of egos each looking for their self-gain.

A Mirror Image

2007-04-21T12:17:00.001+01:00

I remember very clearly the excitement I felt when Leo Messi came on for
Barcelona to score against Albacete, two seasons ago. It was his first match
for the first team, after having arrived as a 13 year old. He scored two identical goals, both equally as beautiful. It was our little secret, nurtured and schooled he has now fully blossomed on the main stage. No one can keep him secret anymore.

Perhaps it will be a classical question in times to come: where were you on
18 April 2007 (like where were you 17 May 2007)?To answer the first question
I was at home - the game was shown on TV two hours later and after all
Barcelona have been dreadful this year, so it was an easy option. Listen to
it on the radio.

It became one of the longest awaits in some time, waiting to see the famous goal. Luckily we live in a modern world (not that many times I think that, due to my romantic/sentimental nature). Perhaps it will be described as "the spectacle that did not take place", like Baudrillard explained the Gulf War, as only 50000 people saw it. Even his own brother arrived, and 30 second later Messi scored the goal that everyone is talking about.

It is frightenlingly similar to Maradona’s goal, a mirror image, the only difference being that Messi with his right foot and Maradona with his left. Everything else is virtually the same.

There are some differences though, one a visual one, which is that Maradona is totally aware of everything that goes around him. He knows that England has closed off all passing routes and the only way forward is forward.
Messi seems only concerned with the quickest way to goal. The context of the match is although what makes it different, with Maradona playing in what is the Main Stage, the semi final in the World Cup, against England only four years after the sour Falklands War. It was not just a game of football, here we had two nations who were desperate to humiliate each other.
Argentina scored a goal in a way that England simply can't stand still today, the famous hand of God.
I think that still today they can't be sure which humiliated them more, the Hand
of God or the Zig Zag of God.

While it is true, that Maradona's goal meant more, much more and Maradona is today a God, thanks to that World Cup which he won single handedly, he simply means so much to the people of Argentina. A God. When he passed out a few years ago, I knew of people who would pass by his hospital every day, to lay a flower (and if you wander they are normal people). Like Messi said - for so many years Maradona was the only thing we could look forward to. He has given us so much and for so many years he was all we had.

Messi scoring at the back stage, against “only Getafe” it is the team with least conceded goals in La Liga this year, has had to suffer being "the next heir to
Maradona", for some time, still he seems to be totally unaware of the pressure applied upon him and is upstaging himself at each occasion. While Maradona's goal probably beats his, b importance/context, he is still six years younger than Maradona was at the time. He was not even born then, and we have to thank football for his beauty, for that is what it is.

Let's hope that defenders will not opt for the same option as they did to
Maradona - Kick Him Out. When we are shouting for Fair Play. Let's Also
Protect These Kind Of Players. Let's Not Make Them Endangered Species.

see comparison

Living Conditions

2007-04-19T20:01:00.000+01:00

I can't say my living conditions are bad, they are even excellent for now, however it won't last forever...

Bees and the nuclear alarm clock

2007-04-16T23:22:00.000+01:00

Nuclear alarm clock

Standing on a street corner. In all decency. Remember – Decency. Not waiting for anything in particular, but letting time pass by. It was mid afternoon and I rarely allow time to just pass by like that. We live in a modern time, where time is money is freedom. But in all freedom it was something special today. A crisp spring afternoon, the very first one of this year. People passed by and I allowed them to pass by with few interruptions. As time went, I found myself more and more at ease with my newfound hobby, until suddenly someone did not agree with me. This time I was severely interrupted and that is to put it mildly.

A creature was telling me something. It kept buzzing around my physical self, my soul and me. My deepest inner feelings where hurt or was I perhaps hurting someone else? My conversation with myself got that banal, or at least it made me realise the meaningless of them. This huge bee, perhaps it was a Mother Bee, or was it a wasp, perhaps it was a wasp. I have to admit I have never really known the difference. Anyway it kept flying around me and around me, until I felt trapped, it was like it was creating a trap, putting me into a jail like existence, until I moved and I moved further away. Waking me up of my luxury of standbying. I moved and moved away, but for a long long time it’s buzzing kept ringing in my head. Like a nuclear alarm clock.

The Bee

I was sitting by my desk, well not my desk, but in this beautiful living room, with a high ceiling, perhaps 4 times my height), it is a beautiful dark brown heavy wood dining table. In front of my I got some chicken picture, that I am not entirely sure of its purpose. It had been a productive day, it was sunny and I had even had the opportunity to enjoy the sun, in the end it was not the direct result of the weather driving me in, nor was the lust of working on a Sunday, in the end it was fear that drove me in. Fear of Insects.
I am not really scared of them, but I find them uncomfortable, I just can’t relax as they creep up on me. I came in and refound some peace, until I notice some sound, look up and on my window, the right one in the room, there is some huge thingie buzzing. I walk over and ui yuk, or uif. Whatever you want to call it, I decided to affront it bravely and let the sweet creature out, however it was dangling on the right handle, meaning I could only try to open the window with the left handle.
In the end I retreated and decided that sometimes it is handy to use the Gender issue, so I called for the Man in the house to sort the situation out. We got a jar and even he trembled as he put the glass on top of the beast. In the end it was in the pot, with the lid firmly on. It buzzed safely inside, that will say for our safety. It looked like a giat spider in there, so big was it, a monster. As the rubbish was going to be emptied the next morning, it seemed like a good idea to put it in the bin.
Next morning after taking my bicycle out of the front door, after walking down the steps and open the gate I see the bee sitting, or lying on top of the bin, with the jar (and the lid screwed on) next to it. Strange, very strange, but sweet.

My neighbours factory:

Une Belle Fille Come Moi!

2007-03-25T23:01:00.000+01:00

Truffaut is one of my top top directors. I love the gentle style of his films and I love how he intertwines stories and retells them, through a third person or encounters. He hardly shows sex, but still they are very sensual. He is a gentleman of the true kinds. You always have such a warm touch within your heart after watching his films, you tend to fall in love with the characters. There is always a moment where you think oh that was nicely done. When nice is normally a word to avoid, or to be nice is an act to avoid, I think it can justifiably be said to be something positive, when referring to Truffaut. I simply just love him. When this world if full of people wanting to shout the loudest I really appreciate understatement and humbleness. However Une Belle Fille Comme Moi is just annoying, harsh, brutish and compared to other films you never get any affection of his characters, which gives you a cold feeling. There is some of those typical Truffaut shots, where he freezes the camera in order to prolong, but that is about it. As a fan of François Truffaut, I wanted to see it to the very end, but it is true, it is his worst film.

Fischer vs. Spassky

2007-03-15T21:18:00.000Z

Bobby Fischer
Boris Spassky
Two of Iceland’s Chess Champions in the last 10 years
A future Chess Champion of Iceland
Crowd from Iceland
Crowd from all over the world
Tv Crews
Sponsors, Organisers and other important people

Laugardalshöllin: the day after Fischer has beaten Spassky and claimed the new World Chess Champion. This will be their perhaps last goodbye to the Icelandic nation.
Fischer: (dressed in an immaculate white shirt, black loose tie and smart grey trousers), Even if I’m a member of the central committee now, (fiddling with a pencil) I can’t say anything too definite, as I want to keep my options, but I want to play a lot of chess and I like to play matches, ... I feel... you know... I want to play... a lot of (pauses)matches, you know, the money is there, it’s a question of money, not a question, you know of waiting three years, it’s a long time, a very long time.
Spassky: (dressed also in a white shirt, even more immaculate a blue tie and dark blue trousers) I agree.
Fischer: Definitely, yes. Definitely if the money is there, we are going (a long pause, where he turns his pen around his finger a few times) to have a return match, its no question emm... er...
Spassky: I agree.
(a young boy or girl, one can not tell shouts, In Iceland, there is a hush hush from presumably his dad)
Fischer: You can ... the Russians, made me wait a long time, you know, dishonesty and everything. It’s nothing personal you know, but you know what I am trying to say.
Spassky: Well (seems to look straight through Fischer)what can one say.

Both are now rocking back & forth in their chairs - like two dead men dancing.

Fischer: I feel bored now, not tired (a longish pause, where you can hear the audience breathing), I just want to get back in action, I am not interested in making some kind of spectacle of myself (he turns to the audience) I am interested in serious chess you know.

Spassky: You played very very well in the second half. I have (someone caughs in the audience, followed by a second and a third cough) to admit I felt under tremendous pressure in the last games, except for the last game. I can only think of it as a huge fish, which I had caught, but somehow I could not contain it, it was slippery and so I lost it.
Fischer: Hmmm.

(a long long long applause, which seems to last an eternity erupts, with Spassky and Fischer shaking hands before leaving to the back room, the cameras having focused on the two great masters, now aim their lenses at the Icelandic crowd for a few minutes, no one seems to want to leave, no one seems to want this magical moment to come to an end, but in the end the rooms becomes empty and the cameramen pack up, with no sign of neither Spassky nor Fischer).

Swimming In The Desert

2007-03-11T19:40:00.000Z

For some reason or other, this clasico has not been of previous excitement. I remember the times when all one could think of was el clasico, feeling it in the blood thrusting through, trying to come to ones senses, trying to make a coherent sentence after the other, not being able to do anything due to nausea, when all one could hear was el clásico, when on each corner you noticed we were all in the same boat, depending on the result in order to put our state in the right place.

This year it has been watered out, in the first one Barça was in between clashes against Chelsea (perhaps the rival that is taking Real's place), and now just after Liverpool. It is true that the team is out in the Champions League, almost not having shown up in the first knock out round, but there was some pride left. The same for Real. Both teams had to show there is some life left in them.

Real's decadence has been coming for some years and even existing for some years, ever since Barça's resurrection from the Dark Era of Gaspart. However it is amazing how quick things can turn, it is less than a year ago that Barça was the team in Europe. The one everyone wanted to emulate, who had the neutral fans on their side. There are many reasons that have been stated for the quick fall of the team and in previous three years not one scandal had been heard, now there is one a week. Player after player is coming out, criticizing their team mates or criticizing their team mate for critisizing their team mates. It has happened so quick that no measures had been thought up, and now suddenly half the team is for sale (at least in the fans opinions) who are more than scared of becoming Los Galacticos Two. it is true that perhaps some players are in need of a new challenge and some even are a bad influence on the behaviour of others.

There will be some turnover in the summer and one of the cracks, if not two will be shown the door.

The game itself was probably the best in ages, or the worst in ages, as both teams defended like schoolboys. I am not sure that the probable result of 6-6 would have been enough, and that shows what an awful defending there was, the total anarchy on the pitch. In the middle of the first half, one was expecting each team to have had two sending offs, a multitude of opportunities and in the end it was almost like in most games. Barcelona were punished for their defensive neglection and saved by their individual geniouses. Real Madrid proved to be more of a team, with a courageous spirit (and that is not
Capello's order I believe), with Barça saved by a 19 year old who scored his first hat-trick. It was a Madrid who played the best game of the year, but could do no more. A Barcelona who at times were vulgar, playing a 3-4-3 formation, that is nothing but suicuidal, especially with Oleguer at the back and Márquez who's head is everywhere apart from on the pitch.

For the spectator it was spectacular. Real will go away from the match with a sour feeling, having had one man more for 45 minutes and the feeling of two points loss, while Barça will have to do some serious auto criticism and not be blinded by a goal that felt like victory (Messi's third in injury time), they will have to start to reflect on what they are doing wrong and perhaps taking Gudjohnsen's words to the heart.
If only everyone would give that hundred percent, the team with all its talent would be unbeatable. Otherwise...it will be a long long swim in the desert.

Over

2007-03-07T12:33:00.000Z

It is mostly black now. Not because of the result yesterday, it has been coming for a long long time.
Since Paris. Since the hangover of the double.

This year a lot of things have been made wrongly.

It has not only been a year with a World Cup for Barcelona. To my knowledge Liverpool, Manchester and other teams had if not more international players.

Yesterday the team was lucky not to go into the second half with a 4-0, it was something like 11 shots against 1. I thought we were supposed to score goals.
I had the feeling that apart from the first 20 minutes in the first leg, Liverpool controlled the game, but all aspects of it.
They might not play "beautiful" football, but has Barcelona played beautfully?
I am sorry, but history accounts for nothing. It was last year Barcelona played well.
Not this year. Some players have entered into a vicious circle, that I am not sure is reversible.
Could it be that the club misses that much Henk Ten Cate?
What does Neeskens do?
I never even see him communicating with anyone.
Is he there on a work placement?

At no times did the team show any team solidarity, mental strength, it was neither that el cracks appeared to make the difference, nor team work that made it.
It is true that Liverpool scored both goals due to our mistake, but that is what they do well.

I don't think it is needed for a total renovation, like at Madrid, but some crack needs to go. The other cracks need a rocket from below.

I would say it is over for:
Belleti, Gio, Sylvinho, Edmilson, Motta, Deco, Giuly, Ezquerro and Saviola.
Ronaldinho has one year left as a margin, for the years of service.

HMMMM

2007-03-05T22:12:00.001Z

I don't really care in which way we will go through. The criminal or the civil way.

There is no doubt that Anfield will have some importance, but I also believe that Barça are used to many hostile anti-catalan stadiums in Spain.

At the moment there is a chess game between Rafa and Frank, with no one showing their cards and both coaches trying to read the other ones cards.
However Rafael Benitez has the favourable result and it is Barca that need to go for it.
Barcelona will not care too much about conceding a goal, as they have to score at least two anyway.

I believe they have to attack fiercely, agressively and take their chances, as they won't be too many.

In one way the result in Barcelona favours Barca, as they can't be complacent, they can't take it easy believing they will score. Like what happened at Camp Nou.

It is doubtful that Eto'o or Messi will be up for 90 minutes, but I would start with the whole artillery, trying to get the result as soon as possible, in order not to become nervous and neurotic. If the result is there, allow Benitez to make the first changes, so you have the capability to surprise.

Força Barça!

Are They Back?

2007-03-04T12:36:00.001Z

Are They Back (the team, Eto'o and Messi) ?

We are reaching the point of the season that is actually important, decisive in order to judge success or failure.
On either side of the games against Liverpool Barcelona will be meeting Valencia and Sevilla and shortly after Real Madrid in the league. All teams are candidates for the league title. It won't be definite but definitely important.

After a long break from Champions League and Barcelona scraping through in the last game, it will be interesting, exciting and an emotional encounter with Liverpool. While Liverpool are slowly getting better with confidence and hope regarding their future, after being bought, Barcelona have struggled. They have scored very few goals and suffer away from home.

Since September they have been without Samuel Eto'o, their main goalscorer in the last couple of years and he has been thoroughly missed. Barcelona were also without Messi and had to rely on Gudjohnsen who is not really a main striker and Saviola, who scores lots of goals, but not very often against tough teams. Most clubs would have suffered being without two of their three best players, but Barcelona are still top of the league, perhaps due to the other teams failures rather than their own merit. But still.

In Barcelona life is never very easy though, the team has been criticisised heavily and almost no one has escaped. It can go from that Rijkaard has little tactical knowledge and Ten Cate (former assistant coach) made all decisions, the debate Saviola or Gudjohnsen, that Deco and Ronaldinho spend far too much time in night clubs, that without Eto'o Ronaldinho is no one, that fans want Mourinho, that Puyol is not the rock he was and back again. The only players to have escaped criticism are Iniesta and Valdés. It is true that the team has not been itself, but perhaps people forgot how difficult it is to replace Eto'o and perhaps how much their system relies on him. He is extremely fast and opposite defenders have something of a panic attack when they see him galloping towards them, without Eto'o teams can build up their attack at their own pace. As he is very fast teams tend to push backwards in order not to leave any space, which in turn gives Barcelona the possibility to play higher up in the field. His aggression and competitiveness is needed in a team that has won everything and his character allows no complacency to take place.

Ronaldinho has struggled all year, the World Cup was a big blow which left him half depressed, with Eto'o and Messi out, the defender could concentrate on marking him, and he would often have two or three players on top of him, kicking him. It did not help he has not gained his form making it difficult to get away from opposite defenders, with Ronaldinho out of form, Deco has to work twice as hard, which has left him exhausted in the end of the games.

It will be a huge psychological boost to have these two players back, even if it could take a long time until they both get fully fit, with them on the bench it will scare teams and that it is a psychological advantage.

There has been criticism of Barcelona's arrogance in the U.K., especially with Laporta's comments that he was happy to go to Liverpool to visit the Beatles museum…I can reassure you though that the players are not taking Liverpool lightly, they know that they need to go to Anfield with a 3-0 cushion to have a chance, it is to see if Barcelona will have managed to reach some form of consistency and apart from pure physical superiority they will have to deal with height as well. It is a shame ex Barcelona player Luis Garcia is injured, but the rumoured interest in Xabi Alonso (whose father played for Barcelona) adds to the morbidity.

It will be extremely tight and an even knock-out phase and if Barcelona manage to beat them it will prove they have matured and it will bring confidence for the season. If they loose it might get the alarm bells ringing louder and a clear out in the summer. That is F.C. Barcelona for you.

Una Bomba

2007-02-16T00:20:00.000Z

Una Bomba

The team had started to play with a certain togetherness, recuperating some of the play that charectirzed it, the return of Eto'o and Messi was just around the corner, but it seems to all have gone wrong.

It was bound to be a Celebration at Camp Nou against Racing Santander, with two of the loved ones reunited with their family, the team and the fans.
The basketball team had just won the Cup against Real Madrid, the team was winning comfortably, Messi had just received an ovation and it was going to be Eto'o's turn, when he suddenly refused to go on. Apparently Rijkaard had planned he would substitute Ronaldinho, giving both a standing ovation, however that was not to be. Instead Oleguer Presas came one, another player the fans were keen to give an ovation. To everyone's surprise Rijkaard stated in the press conference that Eto'o refused to come on, it was obviously a surprise coming out of a man who had always washed the dirty clothes within closed doors. The press commented on it eagerly with some defending Rijkaard and some understanding Eto'o. However in a club were there are profound divisions, some tertulias, chat programmes, both on TV and radio, were keen to extend the "incident". There was no press conference the day after and 48 hours later Eto'o appeared in a publicity act, releasing una bomba. That he would take no lessons on thinking of the team first, that saying he did not want to come on was of a bad person and that there was a war going on and him being in the middle taking all the stick, referring to Ronaldinho, Rijkaard and Sandro Rosell (the former vice president, close to players such as Ronaldinho, Deco and Márquez). It is voice populari, that Ronaldinho trains little and perhaps does not lead the professional life he should, that there is a profound divisions between Laportistas and Rosellistas, with both men using the media in order to manipulate and with certain tertulias attacking Eto'o at each opportunity, perhaps in order to get to Laporta, but that Rijkaard is a bad person is a new invention. Eto'o's words echoed all over the world, with consequences that will be extremely hard to solve. Nothing will be the same again.

It has not been an easy year for the club, with two of their best players out for months, but they are still top of the league and alive in three competitions, but perhaps the evolution towards galactization has been slowly happening this year, but it is extremely surprising to see such a rapid decline of what has been a team renowned for its team spirit and lack of egos in the dressing room. This bomba has all changed that, even if it has been lingering under the surface, it was a surprise in how quickly a disintegration can happen.
The hunger for titles can disappear almost over night with complacency and over confidence taking its place.

What will happen now? The team will have to go urgently back to the very path that made them so successful and remind themselves that they are on a path to make history, to look forward to more success rather than accepting that they have reached it all.
The day after la bomba, the club had frenetic meetings, between captains, president, Rijkaard, Ronaldinho and Eto'o as well as the whole team. In training the two "main actors" made peace in front of the cameras, giving each a Valentine hug, making truce, for now… We will have to see how long it lasts, but perhaps it will wake everyone up and remind them that what could have been the very end, could perhaps be the very path needed to be taken.

It is difficult to deal with stars and Rijkaard recently came out saying that having two and a half cracks, stars in a team is enough. The press have been pushing Christiano Ronaldo towards Barcelona (probably by filtrations of the club). Laporta seems keen to sign him, but Rijkaard will have slowed that process, by proving how difficult it is to have stars in a team, that having to many egos is only harmful, as it creates jealousy and manipulation.

He has managed to solve a huge problems with the skills of his diplomacy and the very lack of ego, by allowing the dressing room to solve it themselves. He knows that denying Eto'o from playing is only harming the team, as they have had difficulties scoring goals without him. His very competitive, aggressive and hungry character helps the players to keep themselves on their toes in games and by leaving him in the stand it would have made the rest of the season unbearable. Better to make peace, even if the wound is not healed and we will have to see how long it will last.

La bomba is although just the tip of the iceberg, Eto'o's outrage has created a division between Laporta and Rijkaard, who previously have lived in complete harmony. It was also believed that the dressing room had not been affected with the divisions of el entorno (everything surrounding the club) and especially the war between Laporta and Rosell, who left the club due to unrepearable differences with Laporta. Rosell was the sporting director when they first came to power 2003 and was believed to be the very man who brought the main signing, the symbol of the team Ronaldinho, however that is not so clear now.

Eto'o has allowed voices and persons to influence him, perhaps even Laporta himself as he was seen as very much Laporta's signing. His anxiety of returning to the team was immense and perhaps his word are not totally out of place, as most of them are "true", however he did wrongly in announcing them publicly and by doing so he has cornered himself in a corner. Eto'o was and is fed up that he is not forgiven anything, that at each opportunity he is attacked. He is fed up that Ronaldinho and Deco can do as they like, while Eto'o is perhaps the most decisive of them all is being attacked constantly by certain media. He made one huge mistake and that is breaking the silence of the dressing room and Ronaldinho has been seen as the good guy now. If Eto'o's outburst would not have happened, then Ronaldinho's comments after the game would have questioned his integrity and honesty in critising players of not thinking of the team first. However lazy and party going Ronaldinho is he is someone unites rather than splits the dressing room.

Frank Rijkaard has been rumoured to be on his way out of the club, taking a sabbatical or going to Milan. It has been said that he is fed up with players egos and lack of implication. One of the very successes of guiding the team to success has been his management skills and control over the dressing room, with a modern style, rather than the authoritarian style of coaches as Van Gaal, Capello or Mourinho. It is sad to see that the players have gotten their way and not respected a man who has given them all freedom in order to guide them to work for each other. They have among el etorno and even Laporta pushed him towards the door. It will be a sad and traumatic moment when he decides to leave, probably as early as June and it is only what el culés deserve with their self destructive obsession of neurotic behaviour.

Innocent Soul

2007-02-12T10:58:00.001Z

I have just experienced something strange, while reading Barça i el Franquisme, I looked up, as my Catalan is not its best and I was trying to put one word in touch with another, making some sense out of them.
In front of me was a group of people, very Scottish in my confused and disperse way of looking at things. Then I see what is the motive of me wanting to remember the situation. This little kid, perhaps between 15 and 20, dressed in blue tracksuit bottoms and a grey sports jumper, on a day were I am wearing 7 layers of clothes, scarf, hat and gloves and double layer of socks (one made out of Icelandic wool). The women, a chubby tiny one, but not too schemie (ie. out of the schemes, of the back of a van selling second hand car radios) is handing over some money to the kid who has several teeth missing, dirty hair (most likely a junkie) and in her hand she is holding two packs of meat. The kid pus the rest of the meat (the ones he did not sell) back in his dirty rucksack and walks on to the next table (not mine) to find new customers. The group of people are discussing various recipes and I am noting down this experience. Perhaps I am too much of an innocent Nordic soul to fully grasp that not only illegal dvd's are sold in pubs.

Pub Signs

2007-01-29T09:34:00.000Z

I saw this in the pub and thought it was very clever.

You are inside - Drinking

You are a smoke and have to go outside for smoking, but the drink is not finished yet.