Tag Archives: life

Johnny Cash – Hurt


I know everybody is exhausted to listen this music or see this video. But for months I have listened this almost everyday and these last days … I’ve listened all the time. A classic masterpiece is a classic masterpiece.

ah, before I forget… after it get posted here this is going to be automatically posted on tumblr and the tumblers are going to see this post and say : “this is sooo 2004 or 2005″ or some hipster crappy like that. Today I will not play with you tumblers, not in the mood for artsy crappy cool stuff.  I am not in the mood, leave me alone, go to like posts of kittens, fashion and shinny pieces of trendy art.

 

to stop selling FUR


 

watch this and understand why fur is a real crime.

Only Rant…. don’t need to take out your pants and jump on it .


Only rant…. don’t need to take out your pants and jump on it .

OK, first of all: I love to rant . And what I say one day so strongly isn’t rare to do not take so seriously on the next day or do not even believe on that . Or believe even more going to the last consequences . There is no logic and this is the way my brain works . If your Anglo-Saxon way to see the world sometimes doesn’t match with mine… don’t worry , it isn’t an scandal… you don’t need to lose nights thinking about this and hating me . It is natural and exists a huge world out there where people thinks in a very different way ( not wrong or right , better or worse ) than the way you learn at the school… don’t take so seriously, it is just another person’s opinion. All the time I post what I am thinking at the moment it causes huge polemic. Why ? Last week had an explosion of people posting hateful opinions about me on Tumblr because a text I posted here . It made me lose followers on Blogspot , Tumblr and Posterous . hahah!! I had to delete it in all the blogs because was tired to answer and be cursed . Even on WordPress where I never receive any comments , I received few ones complaining about in less than 2 hours . What is Funny is that the ones that complain , curse me , stop to follow my blogs, and posted horrible things about me on Tumblr last week aren’t Neo-Nazis , Fanatic Muslims , Buddhist Monks , Christians Ministers , K.K.K., South American Guerrilheiros, ….. no … are the ones that preach about tolerance and democracy , the ones that believe tolerance must to be the foundation of the society. The ones that are always the first to talk about freedom of speech and thoughts. Those are the ones that throw rocks on me all the time I open my mouth . This is a blog !! If I can’t rant on my own blog where am I going to do that ? I’m front of my aquarium to my fishes drinking green tea . I mean… my country came out from dictatorship and still today the politics on the power use sentences as : “there is too much freedom of press, people are abusing ” . Yesterday the president made an long speech complaing that people aren’t respecting his candidates for this election and the we should shut up. If I can’t come to a blog and say what I think… come on !! People on Internet behave as Third World dictators . Every body gets offended because what I say isn’t ” acceptable ” . It is what I said on the last post when people got offended and I had to delete . It is very convenient to tell me to shut up. Yes , this is what they want . People from poor countries must to have any real opinion about nothing because it isn’t acceptable . People like me can’t express themselves , we should go to the factories and deny our existences producing cheap products to be consumed in the other countries . People like me can’t have voice , face … we must to hide ourselves for the rest of our lives in a way that is more convenient for the citizens of the First World countries. Who wants to remember we exists, right ? If people from my origins produce art , must to be something appropriate to be consumed as an exotic inoffensive thing by the ones in Manhattan , London , Berlin…. I mean… We must to produce something that makes the guy when he goes to the gallery look and feel good with himself saying : “Oh , this is interesting, different , I support his cause , I am a nice open minded sofisticated liberal person , now I can go home in peace and drink a good wine before to sleep with peace of mind because I saw a fucking artists fron a Thrid World country and supported it, i am so special smart and good” . That is the reason i dislike when people refer to me as “Brazilian artist ” because following this labels has all the weight of the expectation that i have to do something “different” and nice … something like a tropical circus monkey , a Carmen Miranda or a stereotype of contemporary art that is what is well accepted today’s market . Freedom never comes after the “Brazilian artist” label. This is for sure . But i would be very unfair if i put all the blame on the place I came from. No . It happens with everyone in everywhere today more than ever. The world never was so closed to different opinions and ideas as it has been today .
I was thinking this afternoon how ridiculous have been the ‘rockers’ for the last decade . You see lots of guys making that proud big headed expressions , putting their noses up and saying : “I am a rocker ” ” I am a rock star ” ” I make rock’n'roll” . It is so ridiculous . I never trust an artist that can talk so sure about its work. If you see the bands of the history that made History and changed aesthetic values for real… they on interviews never say ” I make rock’n'roll”. I remember the few real bands I saw in activity , they were never able to explain their own sounds. They real ones are like that . Art is like that . I never trust on people the can talk about their production so sure of it . It means they aren’t really creating, investigating , only reproducing values or formulas that already exist . The biggest artists i saw in my life when asked about their works used to make a pretty dumb face because didn’t know how to answer that . What i posted last week was a bit about that … and i receive a waterfall of rage on my head , still today, one week later i have received very impolite comments about. Sorry if what i say makes you feel that your mask falls and you get angry. But people that is so sure of what is art and what is producing don’t have too much to offer . People that are so sure about themselves only reproduces what was already made . It is easy to be sure that way. I am sure when i am making pasta .. it is a recipe that exists for generations. But i am not sure when i am painting or writing or living . Because i do it my way . and my way is brand new, there is no recipe or really concepts to guide me . And if you call this “intellectual talk ” as i was accused more than one time before . I am sorry for you. because if you aren’t concerned about the nature of what you produce it means you are producing very shallow stuff that doesn’t add anything to the world or even to your life . Maybe you get happy to do what was already done . But i don’t get satisfied with that and want to have freedom to express my dissatisfaction and keep searching without a narrow minded asshole protesting because my position on this world isn’t convenient to him/her and its pathetic sterile life with ‘acceptable works” being produced .

Other thing i want to talk is about my book and the way it was written. Every one knows because i posted it already on my blog that i wrote this in English because i want it to be read by everyone . Trust me , it is a pleasure to me when i write and communicate in English. Really . It completely spoilt me because now when i write poetry in my own language i feel totally incomplete as something was missing. I love to express myself as i am doing now .
But here comes the others ( inferno ) . The defenders of the language . Always from USA and England ( the ones that read my book and are fron Germany , Holland , Spain , Austria , Italy, Brazil…. dodn’t complain about language , and some Americans and Englishs too ). Really , how can such nice people have a such horrible language ? In England after a while , the only ones i accepted to have contact was the Englishes, the original ones , not the immigrants or their descendants. The Englishes were that most sympathetic , polite , honest , and nicer people i have met in my entire life . I never get tired to say this because it is true and for all the thousands of times they were kind with me saving my life or only making my day . The Americans were the best friend I made in Europe . Maybe because people really hates Americans in Europe they are very nice with the few ones that don’t show any prejudice against then. It was my case …. i will never forget the Americans i met out there because they were very friendly people i could trust. We helped each other always that was necessary. Not talking about the 20Th century North American cultural production in all the areas that ( and i am not saying it only for saying ) really saved my life , my brain , my ethic and moral values , my faith in God . Everything good i have inside me has a foot in the American culture somehow. But people…. come on !!! Do you really need to bitch on me giving a such hard time because of the way i wrote this book ? And it because i showed it for a bit more of half dozen of people and wasn’t even published yet. I mean… isn’t enough i speak and write on your language trying to be nice and social…. do i have to think like you too ? Do i have to destroy all the structure in my brain and adopt yours ? Aren’t you being too harsh ? And people say it isn’t correct English language. What is correct English language ? It doesn’t exist. A language that needs so much phrasal verbs , idioms , slang’s and have no real rules for prepositions can’t be right. A language that uses resources as “get, got , do , did….” can’t be considered as a correct language . It changes everyday and begs for improvisation all the time because of the lack of a real structure . And I am not even talking about the huge gap created by the accents , what doesn’t happen with most part of the occidental languages. So should i stop to think on my own language too. Isn’t enough i try to write in a way that people around the world can understand ? Do you really need to tell me that my text isn’t correct and conventional . I have two examples :
One : Sure I am not comparing my self , but i even should because would be fun . But if English was a language with such good structure Shakespeare wouldn’t need to create so much new words for try to express himself . And i bet that if he was alive now and wrote a book with lots of new words as he did people would bitch on him much more than what happened on his time . Two : Is my text hard to read ? Hard to understand what i mean sometimes ? It makes me remember the last week on Facebook, Jasmine , and i think later Momo Luna sent me a post where i should list my 15 favorite albums of all times. On my list , at least 10 of then were albums very hard for me to listening on the first 5 times . Were albums that i bought and hated first even regretting for have spent money with that. I didn’t like , didn’t understand what was happening , didn’t follow the musics … these albums years later , 10 , 15 years later are the 15 top favorite of a collection where I have more than 500 albums considered favorites, i loved to have made that list of 15 favorites and spent the entire last week listeneing then again . The same with many of my favorite movies , books and art pieces, they are new languages, it isn’t easy to get at first .
I am sorry if you spent the entire life consuming jelly, Mcdonalds, MTV hits and All Disney movies. Let me tell you one thing: Real forms of expressions don’t have label , aren’t easy to digest, and aren’t easy for the creator to talk about or explain . It happens . If you have contact with my production, welcome to a world were things aren’t logic , easy and acceptable . I am not going to chew you food and put it gently in your belly . Forget about . It has an entire industry of billions of dollars doing this for you, wanting to please you. Isn’t necessary to demand it from me . My book is hard to read , is hard to digest for many reasons , and i am proud of that .
What do you expect about a book that talks about a guy the lives in a global world “full of tolerance and human rights” being excluded of it ? No , sorry , i didn’t write a romantic comedy . I believe Hollywood won’t buy it.
So people . Take easy . If it is so hard to deal with me I am sorry , I didn’t mean to be a such pain in the ass only for say what I think on Internet. For paint what i can ( not what i want because i have no control of what happens in my studio, and i am not saying that for looking cool ) . For write what i thing and feel. It has been hard enough to me for all these years , all this life having to deal with my head… image with people “shooting” against me because of what i post on Internet, on my own blogs…. It so ironic and unfair . My grandfather left Europe because Hitler was after him. My father was arrested by the local dictators . And now i can’t say what i think on my own blog . The difference is that now nobody can put the blame on any government. Now the dictatorship comes from people . The ones that have their own blogs and post what they feel like to do and say … this people now comes to tell me to shut up and change my way to think . Don’t you think you are too narrow minded and unfair values telling people what is right or wrong to think ? Don’t you think you are behaving as people that begs for do not have freedom . Calling me names and criticizing my production as have happened gives reason to your own governments and big companys to start to control the press as have happened in all the called “Occidental free world” . It isn’t argument anymore… it is violence and Nazism. Remember , Nazism isn’t about race or nationality . It is about standards, the psture you take about the ones that are diferent.
 
Ok, after to spend the evening drinking lots of green tea and geting high with cafeine, maybe I can post this at 9:50 pm.
Please … you don’t need to get angry or ofended with all i wrote . It is only a cucaracha’s rant. Nobody gives a shit for what we think anyway .
Don’t worry , tomorrow you are going to meet lots of me and ignore our existence while we do all the dishes , work on the garden , clean the office and say : “Oh , sorry Sir, thank Sir . excuse me Sir , Yes Sir……have a nice day Sir .

I am so happy for living in a Global Multcultural United World with so many tolerance for all the diferences .
Have a nice day everyone . And a wonderful weekend !!!

let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky .


let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky .

cold… good for tea and internal works with dreams, aquariums and cats over a dark surface.
the taste is purple on my lips.
i swallow it and feel silk, cotton….linen…. floating distant and clear.

He extends His Word once again for my heart.
my heart lies, liar liar liar, compulsive liar.
 i have to fill it with light.

the green under the moviments of the cold weather.
the 2 sides blade of my chest that opens new paths beyond the air.

the golden vibrations of a good friend’s hair shining in my body and smile now.

sundely NOW became so precious , by pure acident.
i don’t care if time, times , timeless are there somewhere.

let the dogs run till get exausted at the street.
let the cats sleep upon the aquariuns lamp because of the heat.
let the birds take a chance on the floor before returning to sky.

i am fine, thank you for asking .

you can see the original post of this poem at:

I AM NOT HERE TO ENTERTAIN YOU


I recieced this email these days fron an ex follower of Mein Welt ( BLOGSPOT ). On the last 3 weeks this blog have lost more than 15 followers!!
You know what? FUCK YOU! What am i ? a clow , a host of a tv show?
Hey my work is serious and i am not going to get into my studio only for you have entertainment for free , go to watch tv and leave me alone. Have you paid me for post my paintings? no . Do i recieve something for this? no. Is there a contract that i have to paint every day only for painting and make you happy ? What do you think art is for? Entertainment? Hobby? Making people looking up to you ? A pleasure ? Something nice? Sport ?
I’ve been developed my work for 11 years and now should i change my way to work to please people that doesn’t understand what i do and doesn’t help me about nothing? So what are the paintings i’ve done so far? Yesterday’s news? Rotten vegetables?
I paint when the painting must to be done. Not when you are bothered with your stupidy mediocre life and looks for something cool on internet. Go to look for porn your pathetic exuse of human being.
Here are my fashion photos for making you happy.
 

 

 

 

 

your truth isn’t impressive. FUCK YOU WISY and your tolerance.


your truth isn’t impressive. FUCK YOU WISY and your tolerance.

i dislike writers that try to develop sentences to revel their wisdom showing what great intelectuals they are , trying to impress the reader with some new truth ( oh, he is so right ).
 why do they write this way? did the kids called then bumb when they were only a child and then grew up with this complex: “oh , i have to show i am smart”.
 camon. i am a fundamentalist Christian, if i want to read something wise i open the Bible .
what writer can substitute this?
any man can impress me , only God .
yes , i am “that” kind of people and i am not even sorry for this.
fuck you wisy!!

the writen Truth is just ONE : it starts with Genesis and finishes with Apocallipse.

i DO  love to be intolerant.
here it comes :
Jesus never told us to be tolerant, He said to love the other as yourself , not more or less.
it is totaly diferent. the oposite as a matter of fact .
tolerance is the resoursce of the hypocrits.
is a political correctness invention.
to be tolerant you must to be able to see the diferences , to love you must to be able to see the similaritys.
tolerance is to say:” hey! you are diferent of me , i don’t agree with you , i don’t even like you, but i tolerate you. see, i am  a nice guy, i tolerate you , so go back to your gueto, your tird world country, where i can tolerate you even more, see i tolerate you , i am a good person , i am going to sleep happy tonight and there is nothing you can say to acuse me , because i tolerate you”.
tolerance is the more eficient weapon against minoritys, the world never had so much tolerating people in its history and never had so much excluded people as well.
i know very very very well the both sides of the wall , i lived at both and belonged, behaved as the both.
i HATE tolerance.

fuck you wisy!!

( i feel so childish, writing this, using logic…. now i am like the writers i dislike )

You have never seen me .


 

Friday, July 23, 2010

You have never seen me .

 

You have never seen me.
by Caio Fernandes 2010. 

You have never seen me, early in the morning there is no sun light on the streets when i pass in front your house.
I see the lights up and some furniture by the windows while the perfume of the garden embraces me as a coat protecting fron the cold and drizzle.
I never had courage to stop at the sidewalk and apreciate it as a piece of art in a museum because i am afraid someone calls the police as my cheap old cloths can scare you neighbors and family.
Everything about you and your life is so beautiful.
You got married with this man that is good and can give you everything.
Every day i walk 2 blocks more than i should only for pass in front this house, and looking discretely to it makes me feel like to keep dreaming and living. 

Then i arrive at the subway station at the same time every single day, pretending i am not going to work as a cleaner or i am not diferent of the other people.
Down the stairs i walk till almost the end of the plataform and take my place always at the same spot. When the train arrives i will be in front the tird door waiting it get opened.
What happens is that sat at the same place has that sweet pretty woman, she never looked at me, never noticed that i exist. I cough and change places passing in front of her, but nothing.
If one day she looks at me, i will get courage and say Hi. 

When i am working at my job, people avoids me and my mop.
After 4 hours i leave that place whitout listening a good morning or a bood bye.
Then i go to the street walking down the sidewalk where i am less then one among hundreds of thousands. I say this because if i was at least one, i would have a name and a face… but not.
Every day i visit at least one agency of job, there are many but i went to all then hundreds of times. When i pass through the door the same staff of always look to me as it was the first time asking me to fill the formulary and leave on the table. I must to wait they call to my cell phone what never happens. 

Back to the street i walk as much miles as God can count. Because it is for free and because i expect that a miracle can cross my way.
I get into all the stores of the entire downtown pretending i am looking for something to buy. I know the price of all the products of every single store. It is very rare a sales person comes and asks me if can helps me, what is fine by me as when they do it i have the impression they are asking me to leave. 

By the evening i come back but pass in front your house again, hear the kids argueing or asking for new toys. It makes me happy and then i go to the house where i rent a shared bedroom. There is always someone coocking at the kitchen but nobody says nothing because it isn’t anybody business.
I take a shower as fast as possible before someone knocks the door wanting to use the toilet. In my roon i sit on the bed counting the cents in my pocket even knowing very well how much it has.
This world has left and forgoten me in this hole, i pray for at least Jesus remembers that i exist. 

I pray for one day have a house like yours, a smart wife with good character that smiles to me all the time i look at her.
The garden in front is going to be beautiful and everyone is going to be able to see by the sidewalk.
I am going to put my name on the mailbox, so people will know that i exist, neighbors are going to pronunciate this everyday for saying good morning. 

There is just one thing i am never, never never never going to do after to get all this.
I will never build a wall in front of my home and garden as i see you are going to start to do now.
I am writing this note with the intention to leave inside your mail box asking to you for do not build this wall.
I know you are going to thing it is very weird and see one more reason to built as there was a psicho observing you life.
But i am not a psicho, only an inofencive poor man the has used the view of your house to feed its own dreans.
Don’t worry, i am invisible, you will never notice me passing in front of it, as you never did.
You have never seen me. 

Forget.
I am not going to leave this note inside your mail box. If you realise that i exist is very possible you call the police to “give me a lesson” next time i pass in front your house.
I am glad you have never seen me.
And… am i alucinating? I mean, why did i think someone would do what i ask?
Forget.
You have never seen me.

Giny , Araucaria , and the Mountain . – by Caio Fern . 2009 .



Giny , Araucaria , and the Montain . – by Caio Fern . 2009 .
Photo by Gunter Roesler 1968.The dogs and cats are with my mother .
.
.
.It is friday night and has been some thing around 7 hours that i left home , feeling so free and light alread ; just me and my faithful backpack that has followed me for so many years around the world . I had no machines , just a jack-knife and a longer knife almost the size of a sword and cloths , a bag of soy pizza flavor and a gallon of water .
I was climbing the montain at dark , there under the trees has absolut no light , the forest is too closed and intence , i am just able to walk because it is a litle path i know sinse i was a litle boy . It was some thing like 12 degrees in Sao Paulo , on the montain was below zero . I love this temperature ! After hours i arrived at the litle shack and opened its door , lighted a fire . Home .
I see that it is cleaner than i imagined , i prefer to believe that a very romantic couple found this place months ago . Everything is on its right place . As it has been for the last 30 years .
My family on the winter hollidays used to come to a house near this place , at this same montain . While they liked going to the town shopping and eating at the restaurants , i liked to stay alone , playing among the trees of the forest . But who showed me this hiden shack was a gay couple that had a house near here too , they didn’t build it but used to come here before of to buy their house . These two mans were very polite with me and filled my mind with fantastic storys of their jouney around the world . I dont remember their names , sad . But the day i saw this litle house for the first time i told it would be my general headquarter ; they said it is ok for then .
The shack is so perfect ! Alvenary with details in wood . Small , just a bedroon and a tiny kitchen with an english wood oven made of iron fron the 19th centure . At the bedroom there is a couple bed . Nobody knows who constructed it , or why . but it is there , opened for every one . today it is exactly the same way , but i hanged a Jesus picture on the wall 17 years ago and wrote under it :” this house is opened for you , be welcome ” .
This friday night I was feeling a green light of glory around my exausted body when i went to bed . Listening the loud sinfony of the forest . Here never had silence , all the animals that you never saw and will never see make the most weird sounds after sunset . Sometimes you are sure that spirits of evil women are calling your name . Sometimes you have the feeling that some kind of unknow being are walking around the walls of the house , smeling you and cursing your blood . Don’t worry , those are just some sounds of the tropical jungle at night . I slept and dreamed with colorfull shines that got into my bed and danced all over my skin . Puting me on the roof where i could see stars singing futures and dimentions .
Morning . Misty montain calling me , holding my hand while i re-discovered every single specime of plant , while the squirrels climbeb the trees for to get the tiny red coconuts , same size of a cherry . And the monkeys gave the first screems . By the colour of the air and position of the few sun i can see among the leafs it is 5 o’clock . I went to the creek near here and took some water . Freezing . The cold air on my face and hands make me feel alive and brand new . The smell of the fog over the plants gets into the skin feeding my breath ….
I do nothing , just try to walk , for who doesn’t know this kind of wood , the plants here do not allow you to get into the forest and go further . It is too dense for human body and the chances of be found by a snake or spider are strong . But with this weather the snakes must to be far way in rocky places looking for the sunshines . I try to find the monkeys . I know they are the size of a Lhasa Apso , but it is too rare to see then . They are over me , i listen then , see the branchs moving , but all the plants hide then fron my sight . They are making a huge noise now , they always did . And it is going to be for the whole day . They argue and fight all the time . It is a hell , but what can i do ? this is their territory , they have had this behaviour for thousands of years . I pretend don’t care .
After a couple of hours i decided to climb down the montain i litle bit and go to visit “the farm” . The old path was totaly invaded by the plants . But the trees and rocks are the same , there is no way i get lost , it seens that i was there one week before . Started to collect on the way petals , herbs and leafs for prepare tea , and pinhao for eat . Pinhao is a kind of nut fron a very particular kind of pine that just exist on this part of the world named Araucaria . There are other kinds of Araucaria here that we don’t eat the pinhao . But this kind of nut can’t be eaten raw , must to be coocked before . I got kilos of it and put into my backpack . the sound of the blue birds and the cicadas around invited me to get further and i forgot the monkeys noise fastly .
The Farm : ” Giny” , i am not sure , was a friend of a friend of my parents . One day i went there with my mother , at her farm for a dinner , i was 3 or 4 years old , and i remember . I am just sure that the first time i went alone into the woods was for trying to find her .
She breeds horses , arabian and english pure bloods for hipism ( i don’t know the name of this sport in english when the horses have to jump obstacles , fences … equestrianism ? something like that ) . I came to see the horses and even more for to see her : Giny is how i wrote her name sinse i was a kid . One of the first words i learned to write . But i don’t know if the right way to write her name is Jeannie or Jenny …and i have no idea of her last name . Is Giny for me , for ever . What I like to see is her colection of pines . She has pines fron all over the world , lots of specimes , fron the most comuns to the most exotics . And to arrive to her house i have to pass through these little pines forest . Their view and smell are like a gigantic green gate for me ; this “pine wood” divides the world behind fron Giny’s lands .
Now the farm is old , the stables are empty , i saw just 3 old horses far way . After 15 minutes walking i am able to see the house . The house must to be painted . Giny must to be with 80 years old now or more .
She was beautiful , the kind of woman that is the every man’s dream . Tall , blonde , thin , large breasts , huge legs , a face that makes you forget all the words … you know what i am talking about . She never got married , i don’t know her story , she never got friends too . But by all i saw of her very very strong personality , i prefer to think it was an option .
My first memory that comes to mind when i think of her , is when i was 7 years old . I had spent all the mornig far fron my parents losing myself into the forest . So i decided to visit Giny , she liked me and was the only one that talked with me as i was an adult and not a kid .
When i got there all the employees where hiding thenselfs and the horses screaming loud in panic . I was able to , behind the trees and bushs get closer of the house and see what was happening , there was a onça on the roof of the house ( onça here is the same than a cougar or puma ) . I was near it , behind a tree facing in silence the onça and it muscles . She was nervous , showing the fangs , loud angry noises with no name . Sundely i listen a car engine , and that silver Mercedes Bens stops in front of the house . Giny alone comes out of it . Magnificent , long black leather boots till the knees , black pants , a white polo t-shirt , her big breasts with no bra …long blond hair , sun glasses . She stops few metros fron the onça . Takes out the classes . Looks at me ( she was the only human that saw me there , all the employes were hiden far far way fron there ) . she extends her left hand in my direction calling me with a smile . I runned fast to her arms . and hugged her thighs staring the animal . she faces it and say : ” You can go now , go to your family ” . The onça went to the ground in silence , calm , slowly , jumped in direction of the forest and went away .
I hugged Ginys thighs hard , my lips touched her belly under the t-shirt , i kissed her warm golden skin and looked up to those big breasts in white cotton canvases , her face shined . For seconds i felt her as a man must to feel a woman . She smiled to me passing the left hand on my hair and the right one on my back . Then the employes came runing making noises and eager to tell their impressions and versions of the fact . I hated then , and sinse then i decided that i would never hire people to work for me …… she has 60 years old or someting at this time . But for a 7 years old kid , 60 and 30 makes no diference . It is all adult . Even so , she was reachable , she was mine for those secounds .
At the same hollidays , but other day , i was observing the horses , while she prepared her favorite dark english one and one of the arabians for me . I thought i would ride the short arabian one , as i was used to ride brazilian breeds as Manga Larga and Campolina , horses the same size of the arabians . But she told me to go to the english one . I got scared and exited : ” Wow , really ?!! He is so tall and fast ?!! ” , …. she looked at me seriously :” You must to . You have total control of the german shepherds of your house , you control the people that works for your father and mother , control of the cats … you are gentle and good , even so make then obey your orders . If you dominate this horse today , nobody in your life will never be able to tell you what to do .”
This was the way her mind worked . I didn’t know that the horse was a sweet one , so i decided to “climb ” him , and spent all that afternoon riding him over the clifs and among the pines feeling as i was the most powerfull and free man on the world .

So this saturday now i got into the house . Called her name , she came fron the attic , loked at me and gave that perfect smile . She recognized me at first glance and huged me making me feel confortable . She is shorter than i am now . And the last years haven’t being kind with her . Last time we met was few years ago .
On the table i put the pinhoes , asked her to cook then . It would be ready in 1 day . Not for lunch . She was preparing lunch alred , the kitchen had a sutil aroma of food . We talked about the farm , then she told me about the newest object , a computer . Till begining of 90′s the house didn’t even have eletric energy , telephone or gas , she dispited modern things but cars , and still does , but because of the age , she decided to have some of then . She fired all the employes ( YES!! well done !! ) , sold the horses and just kept 3 very old females with her . She says are easy to take care . I told her i had a blog , and showed it . She didn’t know i’ve been a painter for the last 10 years !! I didn’t know i have never told her about this . What makes me feel good . In front of her i was just myself , anything else . She saw the blog and laughed .
The meal was just integral rise , coocked vegetables and honey-mostard . She isn’t vegan like me , but eats few meet , as always did . The only meat i saw on her table all those years was the bunnys she used to breed . Once she killed a white one of then in front of me , i was 6 years old or less . She was very gentle , respectfull , kissed the poor animal and killed him with just one moviment , no pain , no fear . But even so i don’t like to remember that .
After lunch we laid on the lawn with the view to the valley as we used to do sinse the first times i started to visit her . There are no flowers on the sides anymore . Used to have red -purple flowers dividing the lawn to the forest . At afternoon , litle foxes used to put their head among the flowers for to observe us . chating chating chating ………we love to do this , we chat about nothing , Giny doesn’t talk with anybody , she doesn’t like anyone , just me . it makes me feel important and previleged .
The view of the valley is splendid , but i know that when Giny dies , the farm that is huge , will be sold by the family to companys that are going to construct condonms , golf fields …. streets …hell , just the ork’s hell .
After sunset i went back to the forest and to the shack . There , i slept fast . Next day i spent all the time drinking tea of petals , herbs and leafs i found , praying for God , Jesus , walking around the area , geting courage to wash myself with the freezing water of the creek …. at the afternoon i started to fix the old doors and windows of the “home” . Nothing complicated , this shack is really a blessed place , never needs to rebuilding nothing , nobody takes care of it , anyone comes here to maintain , and it never gets old . a mistery , a miracle .
At night i started to throw up . It is great . When i was a kid and came with my family , for the first 2 days i felt normal , but at tird and forth days i got in bed , just throwing up… it was the organism expeling the Sao Paulo’s poluition . At 5th day i was brand new again . Ready for more adventures . It hapens with less intencity now but still does . What is very very good .
Monday , today , i went back to the farm , Giny had prepared pinhao , we ate and laughed , then walked among the pine colection . She gave me a car ride to the town , i took the bus . Giny doesn’t have photographs of her face , didn’t have kids , didn’t painted nothing , never wrote a poem , never composed a song , never built a house ….nothing never , when she dies her existence will just vanish fron the world . i like to imagine this . It is pure freedon . Courage . She is a pure spirit .
Ciau Giny , Ciau Misty Montain … hope to see you both before the orks find you with their progress .
3 hours later arrived to Sao Paulo City , took the subway , walked a lot , crossed the avenues … back to this house , hugged the dogs and cats , we rolled on the floor and jumped among the furnitures .
New life . Let’s start now .

YOU ARE NOT GOING TO TOUCH THAT !!!


you are not going to touch that !!

this is the door of one of my closets…..my lucky Irish hat, my lucky socks ( no , i am not a superticious guy. Really! the luck think is more a joke ). And 2 photos of one of my favorites paintings: my socks with a sheep = self-portrait.
I never let my works exposed on the walls because I want to protect then, so if i like too much a painting, i take a picture and hang it.
This is one of the reasons I don’t like to sell my works. People have hanged my paintings in places with intence natural light , and sometimes there is even sun light beating on the painting part of the day. Do they want to destroy my work? Those ignorant assholes!!
And other think very ofencive . They never hang my paintings on the living roon , office or someplace people can see.
When i ask where is that painting he/she bought the answer is always: on my beach house’s daughter’s room , at the basement, on a warbrobe in my attic …. and things like that…..
WAIT!!
Did i hear that more than one of my paintings is in a beach house? With all that humidity and heat?
I hate people that buys my work. They want to destroy my paintings!!! Destroy ME !!
I should kill everyone that got my works and take it back.
Listen, isn’t because you were able to buy one of my paintings that it belongs to you. It is still mine! Is my signature there , is my life , my feelings, my story. So you better do what i tell you to do and keep in a place and way i say it is right.
Keep in a dry cold place ( forget Brazil ) , on a wall safe of dust and contact with natural light ( forget planet Earth) and in a place where people can see it for apreciation .
Peope have no right to buy a piece of my life and do with it what they want . I AM NOT FOR SALE!!!!
Once a guy bought a drawing of mine and sliced a piece he thought unecessary ( the normal size didn’t fit into the frame he had , he explained with a smile ). It was 1998. Sinse then to sell started to give me paranoia.
I know … i am going to starve till death. Fuck!! And my family will throw all away on the trash because they give no value for this and want to sell this house where i live as fast as possible.
I remember when my grandfather died. He let a suitcase with all the poems he had writen sinse had arrived to Brazil. My parents let it on a garden’s house of our backyard. The next summer a storm destroyed the gardens house and the suitcase … any paper there survived. My parents didn’t feel any remorse …they didn’t care at all….. they had let an important thing like that on a garden’s house!! Not inside house. I was 7 or 8 years old and got revolted with then. My father keeps interior-design magazines on his livingroon with more than 20 years old, bad books he have read when was teenager…… but the poems of a relative that loved him …… no, beer and barbecue are more important.
Today i was suposed to go to studio and paint . I opened this closet , looked to my favorite objects, and remember that i feel nothing … i haven’t today that extra energy running on my skin that makes me feel like to paint.
The stupid sun is shining and it still has silence on the streets. Birds singing, dogs playing , cats sleeping under the sun shine…. all that crap people think is nice.
I think it is nice too and i am not going to work…..i am going back to bad after to check emails and post this.
And am i going to paint for what ? To keep safe in one of my closets till i die and all be destroyed ?
the painting of the sheep with socks is fron 2008 and is on the back cover of my last book REDUCTIVE www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1419178
You know … because of this “do not sell my work thing”, the idea of books has given me a new perspective for keep prodicing art. Posting on blog too.

2010 revised-all the production so far by Caio Fernandes and the MIRACLE OF THE MULTIPLICATION .


every 6 months i post here on Mein Welt all the production of the year so far . This has been a good year , i am not an example of prolictic attitute , but when i put these works side by side i get happier about the quality and even small number of then .
i think i have here a good exhibition already .
one thing that have called my attention last months is that this has been a very monocromatic year , the red has been used a lot . not a conscient intention i must to say .
what is funny because the last time i had bought red paint was 2004 , this little tube you can see on the first picture , and sinse then i have painted lots of works using this red , big , huge , small , tinny paintings , doesn’t matter , the red of this tube , believe or not , is there .
sinse 2008 i have called this THE MIRACLE OF THE MULTIPLICATION , as Jesus did twice with fishes and breads . i think it is a miracle Jesus have made to me . hahah!! not kidding !!!
but this year He gave me money enough to go to the art suplies store and buy more paint in many colors , including red .
so i have here a brand new small tube of red now to be used for the next 5 / 6 years . hahahh!! unless Jesus solve to do the miracle of the multiplication in my pocket and transform my cents in milions !!! i would like this miracle too .
ok , 13 paintings in 3 months , camon , i am not such a lazy bastard …. why should i want to produce more and faster ? and lets be sincere , this year production is really something . i am not satisfied but i admire what have happened inside my tiny studio .
thank you God , thank you Jesus , i know your miracles and blesses are behind every single brush stroke i do .
thank you everyone for have followed my production on this blog all this time .
i complain a lot and cry like a baby , but it has been a really good year .
www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1155734