Karma Paradise

After Fauves, 2017, dried paint strips (I like to think this is a trace of Fauves‘ exhibition which has been destroyed after the show, see link below)

A year ago, I started learning the guitar and this journey continues to feed me with inspiration and joy. Presently, I am working on two tasks: one is to learn ‘Riviera Paradise’ of the great Stevie Ray Vaughn, the second is to do a cover of the no-less iconic ‘Karma Police’ by Radiohead. Even though the two exercises are different — one mostly executive, the other, mainly creative — it is exciting to see that they overlap and assist each other. I can only hope to live long enough to master Stevie Ray Vaughn’s songs one day; as for now, it’s mostly hard! But the effort I put in studying ‘Riviera Paradise’ helps me in my approach to music composition, too. From this experience, I’ll gain tools, techniques… maybe even some style, which may reappear, who knows, in a revisited version of ‘Karma Police’.

Continue reading “Karma Paradise”

Sguaba Tuinne

My name Ethel, is a special one. Unfamiliar to most people, my parents were attracted by its gentle sound but chose it mostly for its singularity. Although it has only two syllables [etɛl] and seems relatively simple to pronounce, the general reaction is often one of confusion. It just doesn’t sound like any name that people have heard before. For every new encounter, I need to say it several times until it takes hold, making me very aware of its sonority as if I were repeating a line from a text book. Fortunately, I am always complimented on the beauty and originality of such a name. In addition, what makes Ethel particular too, is its meaning in French: ‘est-elle?’, literarily ‘is she?’.

Continue reading “Sguaba Tuinne”

Tempo Rubato [Stolen Time]

Collage on painted notebook, 1998 – see collages here

I remember rather clearly my last day of first grade in primary school. At least, the souvenir I fabricated of it is very clear: I said goodbye to all my friends with a lot of excitement, knowing we would all meet in September with enough summer stories to keep us going until Christmas. My biggest worry was to find time in my vacation to write to Elian, my boyfriend, who would spend the next two months in Brittany. I was very fond of him. In my souvenir, my parents came to pick me up at school and while we were heading towards the parking lot, my father told me I would not return to this school in September since the whole family was moving to Brussels after the summer.

Continue reading “Tempo Rubato [Stolen Time]”