I already told you here something about this Terry’s beautiful and moving work.
There, I already tried to say something about a so nice Kristine’s machinima about “Rain”, the last art installation built shared by Terrygold into Second Life. Well, this beautiful friend, Kristine, was not satisfied by her machinima, and felt her need to make more and better: thus, another video was born: “Rain by Terrygold”. These so dear and clever two friends, Kristine and Terry, go on to grow better and better as artists.
This time Kristine gives space and dignity to the words used by Terry in her work. Kristine makes a beautiful machinima where Terry’s words are in great evidence, while into the original art installation our eyes and our minds are so captured by pics and landscapes that words are subordinate and for instance I self really did not give them their real importance and beauty. The translation into English from the original Italian text was made by another dear friend, Annalisa Mulialina, while a fourth friend, Shyla, enhanced those words with her so pleasant voice.
Four clever and gentle and dear friend, four women from both the sides of Atlantic Ocean made this wonderful work.
I enjoy their work so much; I enjoy more and more their friendship with Judy.
This machinima was accepted into that so great SL event that is FantasyFaire 2022: it will be presented during the event scheduled on Saturday, April 30th, as showed below here.
Music had stirred him like that. Music had troubled him many times. But music was not articulate. It was not a new world, but rather another chaos, that it created in us. Words I Mere words t How terrible they were I How clear, and vivid, and cruel 1 One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them I They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to form- less things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?
Maybe it’s a book about sin, maybe it’s a book about our wish to be alive. In any case, in it there are a lot of deep and detailed description of our soul. Music and words: I do not comment what he says much better than what I could do.
My Precious love can only come from above In unity is born a kiss of dignity My Precious love will only come from above And there you wish away And with the least they met You love better Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love
by Lisa Gerrard
My friend Kristine Blackadder told me about a strange song: Space weaver, by Lisa Gerrard. I listened to that song and saw its video. A woman dances, alone in an empty space; she wears a very large black dress. She keeps her hands near her hips and her arms are bent, so I can imagine two eyes, two gaps of light in the black of a mask. Her body is also bent, as to simulate a nose protruding from a mask.
A black mask.
The song flows and the woman dances until that mask seems to vanish and the woman becomes what she really is: a woman.
She becomes herself, without any mask and far from any dream.
An expression recurs obsessively, maybe as a prayer invocation, surely as expression of ineffable desire: Precious love. It is repeated twelve times.
Well… that’s my true love story.
Because my precious love came me from above.
Because when I met my precious love I found myself as unity.
Because my precious love gave and gives me dignity.
Because dignity and love grew and grow again as unity.
Because I saw and see what to love means.
Because I became me, taking off any mask.
Silly words born while I was chatting with a friend about a landscape built by Terrygold.
Maybe not silly at all.
What’s a winter dream? It’s as a scream made by shadows that cover as cream my frost skin; shivers’ stream runs like hopeless bad sin
What’s a winter dream? It’s a flash, gleam that moves me to be silly and write reams clinging to thoughts rerunning same scheme. Winter dream is too much my own theme SL, Casvian Caye, January, 12th 2019