Russian Poetry


The unknown is terrifying territory. 

Whoever was born in South-America, in the 70’s, grew up dreaming of Disneyland, getting a pair of imported “american” tennis shoes for Christmas and acquiring electronic devices. The idea of traveling, even inside the country, was a far fetch for most of the ordinary people. We had the freedom, just not the money (nor the culture). Cuba and Russia, throughout the Cold War years were painted as hell itself, those terrible communists child-eaters and their despicable, vicious, socialist ways. Anti propaganda was subtle and agressive, at the same time. Heaven on Earth was the american dream and Dante’s inferno were compressed in the letters USSR. 

Time is wise and the winds never ceases blowing. Life is this little sail boat that, by chance or necessity brings us to the edges of the world, and shows us what our eyes and soul were longing or needed to see. 

Life is full of plot twists.

From HEL ( those who travel know where it is) I had to flee to the Great Unknown.

And suddenly, here I was, prepared for the wild, cold and unkind roughness of Russia.  

Instead I found all the opposite of whatever bad things I had ever heard.

Kind, true, helpful, well read but humble, beautiful people. A city that transcends beauty, history, culture. Deep blue skies, white snowy grounds and breath taking architecture that even in a -23°C makes you just stop and gaze, astonished, such enchanted, magical, gorgeous sceneries. Useless to describe. If you want to comprehend the beauty of this place you will have to come and see, explore, experience it by yourself. Leningrad is amazing. Saint Petersburg is astonishing. 

The unknown is a wonderful territory.
Beauty and coziness inspired me.

Russian composition of color and poetry.
PAINTING AVAILABLE: 

“Russian Poetry” – acrylics on canvas – 30×40

march/2017 – Luciana Mariano ©

lucianamariano1@hotmail.com
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O desconhecido é terrível território.

Quem nasceu na América do Sul, nos anos 70, cresceu sonhando com a Disneylândia, ganhar um par de tênis americanos “importados” para o Natal e adquir aparelhos eletrônicos. A idéia de viajar, mesmo dentro do país, era um sonho distante para a maioria das pessoas comuns. Tivemos a liberdade, apenas não o dinheiro (nem a cultura) para tal. Cuba e Rússia, ao longo dos anos da Guerra Fria, foram pintados como o próprio inferno, os terríveis comunistas comedores de crianças e seus modos desprezíveis, viciosos e socialistas. A propaganda “anti” era sutil e agressiva, ao mesmo tempo. O Céu na Terra era o sonho americano e o inferno de Dante foi comprimido nas cartas URSS.

O tempo é sábio e os ventos nunca cessam de soprar. A vida é este pequeno barco de vela que, por acaso ou necessidade, nos leva às margens do mundo e nos mostra o que nossos olhos e nossa alma anseiam ou precisam ver.

A vida está cheia de reviravoltas.

De HEL (aqueles que viajam sabem onde é) eu tive partir para o grande desconhecido.

E, de repente, aqui estava eu, preparada para a selvageria, frieza e desagradável aspereza da Rússia. Mas ao invés disso, encontrei só o oposto disso tudo. 

Pessoas amáveis, verdadeiras, prestativas, bem instruídas, mas humildes e lindas. Uma cidade que transcende beleza, história, cultura. Céus azuis profundos, solos nevados brancos e arquitetura de tirar o fôlego que, mesmo em -23 ° C faz você parar e olhar, surpreendido, encantado, a mágica de tão belos cenários. Inútil descrever. Se você quiser compreender o que é a beleza deste lugar, você tem que vir, ver, explorar, experimentar por si mesmo. Leningrado é incrível. São Petersburgo é surpreendente.

O desconhecido é território maravilhoso.
A beleza e o aconchego me inspiraram.

Composição de cor e poesia, russas.
PINTURA DISPINÍVEL: 

“Poesia Russa” – acrílico sobre linho – 30×40

março/2017 – Luciana Mariano ©

lucianamariano1@hotmail.com 

Nem tudo são flores


Hoje 15 de Março de 2017, é dia de Greve Geral no Brasil. Após o GOLPE este é o único caminho a seguir. À você que luta, que entende que o Brasil está vivendo o fim dos direitos, da justiça, da inclusão polular, da democracia, que pensa nos menos favorecidos e que não aceita a demonização da esquerda, eu ofereço flores. Flores nascidas em Leningrado, Russia.

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This painting’s name is “Russian Flowers” – they were painted in Saint Petersburg, Russia, in February/March 2017. It was inspired in the beauty and richness of Russian culture, while discovering this incredible city, its amazing history and legacy. Thank you gorgeous, sweet, friendly people of Saint Petersburg for (even under -23° C) making me feel so comfortable, happy and warmly home. Thank you SPb for your colors, magnificence, generosity, kindness and undescribeble beauty. You won’t be forgotten.

Спасибо санкт-петербург.

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PAINTING AVAILABLE/ OBRA DISPONÍVEL: Russian Flowers / Flores Russas, 30×40, acrylics on linen.

Palafitas

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Eu nunca vou me ajustar num mundo onde alguns vivem no luxo e na riqueza e outros vivem no lixo e na pobreza. Empatia e solidariedade não deveriam ser artigos raros, mas são. Moleque morrendo com fome em porta de restaurante é sinal que a humanidade precisa de um Ctrl + Alt + Del. Hold.

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É proibido o uso de imagens autorais sem autorização por escrito do artista.

Para informações contacte: lucianamariano1@hotmail.com

Feira Livre


Esta é uma feira livre. Feira livre na maior cidade do Brasil. São Paulo está a venda. O Brasil está a venda. Os pretos e pobres vão voltar aos seus lugares. O governador “Santo” não vai ouvir uma única panela bater. O prefeitinho sonegador nao faz ciclovia, ele vende o Ibirapuera. Eles næo ganharam pra presidente, mas o advogado do PCC, filiado do PSDB ganhou… E vai garantir a sangria, a suruba, a privataria solta. O juizeco da Globo tem sede, ódio, perseguição…e as mocinhas alienadas aplaudem. O ensino médio agora não precisa de arte, geografia, história…fodam-se. Meus filhos fazem colégio particular.  O importante é não faltar brioche. O importante é reestabelecer a ordem suja de tudo que sempre foi. O importante é não ter favelado em aeroporto, universidade. Venceu a meritocracia. Viva as lindas porcelanas e bibelôs de vidro. As dondocas vão continuar tomando seus chazinhos com as amigas. As diferenciadas vão continuar fornicando homens casados em nome de deus, da moral e bons costumes. Você é mimada, errou e não pede desculpa. Voto não é brincadeira. Democracia não é brincadeira. Você não sabe o que é democracia. Você nunca precisou dela, porque o papai pagou tudo pra você. Mas deixa pra lá… Mágoa não move moínhos. E no final da feira os esfomeados vão limpar as ruas por vocês.
DID YOU KNOW???

Brazil is on sale. Brazilian corrupt politicians, drug and media lords managed to put down a democratic government to establish the neo liberalism agenda, sell all our natural resouces and assets and destroy all the social improvement our society had achieved with Lula and Dilma. A silent war is occuring in Brazil and the international media doesn’t give a shit.

Life is a candy shop


Sometimes words can overflow the dam of your emotions, leaking uncontrollably until it breaks through your head, your skull, your soul and your skin, making you finally drown in your own little puddle of thoughts. Poetical and tragic death by excessive unsolved, unwanted, unnecessary feelings.
A big world, full of possibilities, exciting paths, incredible stories to be experienced, lived, conquered and yet somedays, you just feel too tired to get out of bed. But no, you won’t give up: your friend said “suck it up” and you force yourself out of bed (because people’s judgements matter so much and yes, you live for people’s approvals), then you struggle, try, cope and you realize: bed was indeed the best option, after all. Giving in and listening to yourself instead of whoever says otherwise would, at least, have saved you from your self imposed tyranny.
Yes, life can be filled with beauty, coziness, tasty and colorful treats, but at certain moments your senses are too numb and nothing motivates you. There is plenty of food but you feel no hunger. It’s rather paradoxal that you feel so empty and at the same time you feel fed up, nauseous. If even when surrounded by cute cakes and delicious custards you still starve to death, it might mean that your hunger was not about food but a deep lack of something else. If that is the case, pretty little foods and words never stood a chance. Quiet down, turn off your cellphone, listen to yourself, to your silence, even if it is not pretty. You don’t need to smile when you don’t feel like it. Respect yourself first.
#ForaTemer

The Island

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Love has name and surname, address, id number, ideas, preferences. Love grew up and has a beard. Love lives far away, works, studies, pays bills, rent, drinks beer. Love left the nest but never leaves the core. Love doesn’t care much about visits and messaging. Love never calls. Love transcends time and space and has my fully, devoted and undivided attention. Love is sick, I get sick. Love is happy, I get happy. Love is me and you but much more than us. Love just is. And I just love the way it is.

We are all small pieces of land, little plots or vast universes, wandering, looking for meaning, longing for love. Continental countries or tiny islands in the middle of the sea, we are all in search of purpose, pursuing this sense of worthiness that not always makes much sense. Love is the main reason for the journey, defies and justifies existance. And yes, the guy was right: “Love is the answer”.

 

PAINTING AVAILABLE: “The little islang in the middle of the Baltic Sea” – 30×40 cm – acrylics on canvas – Luciana Mariano – 2016

Party of 4


Stories inspire me and feed my soul, heart, eyes and imagination. Life brings the right people, incredible examples, everyone and everything necessary for us, so we can learn and knit an extraordinary existence. A few years ago I met this lovely little butterfly who became a dear friend of mine. A gigantic tiny woman with a feather in her hair, slightly sad eyes, beautiful wide smile and a golden heart, bigger than herself. She brought 3 beautiful kids to this world and I had the pleasure of meeting two of them. I can tell you: amazing human beings. A young man and woman with so much tenderness and beauty that makes you want to be young again, to become their childhood friends or just to stick around and follow their steps through life, because you know they are the kind of people who are going to make the best out of it. No wonder they are so special: love and pain create the bravest people. 

My friend, their mom, is a true surviver. Her kid, the one I didn’t meet was a girl that decided to depart life earlier than planned. K. ended her life at the age of 19. An experience like this is soul crashing, heartbreaking and often leave you no other choice but to toughen up and survive. It is not always easy to live in world like ours. But loosing your healthy, kind, gorgeous, bright, sweet baby to depression is one of the hardest adversities I can think of. M. HAD to overcome the pain… E. and L. are worth every breath of LOVE and life left in her. And so she does. Last year I spent almost a month at their place. It was a wonderful time. I learned so much with each one of them and cherished every gesture of love and kindness they were so good and open to offer. I carry them in my heart and I know that theirs are also a safe harbor for me.

If I could give them anything in the world it would be the presence they miss so much. If I could do anything I would bring K’s smile and hug back. There, together, all 4 of them, laughing and hugging, as much they wanted and needed it. I can’t bring her back, nobody can. But I can paint it. And so we can imagine that all the pain is gone and the love around them is enough to keep them carrying on and thriving. She is there. And I am sure she is proud of their love and strengh.

I am. Thank you M., E., K. and L. I love you all.

Goodbye 2016

It was about time. 2016 was a heavy year to bare. Brazil suffered a dirty, evil, imperialist financed, media promoted, disgusting political attack (yes it was a coup d’etat), they impeached a honest, democratically elected president and allowed Brazil to go back to curruption, poverty and dependency. Yes, you are all guilty of it. You all watched our young beautiful nation being raped, and yet, you did nothing. Your body may be going to the beach in a fancy new car, but your mind is blind, enslaved, in chains. 

I am happy 2016 will soon be over. At least metaphorically we have a new chance for better days. Yes, I am bitter about this and many othe things. And my only escape from the reality I do not cope with is to paint. I paint easy days with beautiful things to look at, peaceful times, loving people. I paint calm walls of protection, lovely china on the table with delicious cakes, bread, jam, butter, fresh brewed coffee, warm milk. I paint light curtains, beautiful sunsets, cute animals. I paint neat clothes, delicate groomed hairs, timid smiles, attemptive eyes. I paint good company and happy expectations. I paint time and space that suits the soul, embraces the eyes. I paint small treasures and details that invites your attention, your fantasy, your smiles. I paint flowers and clouds, sea and nice water kettle on the warm stove. I paint memories and dreams. I walk myself out of frustration and desappointment through colors and brushes. Striking fresh paint on immaculate canvas allows me to offer a different reality and believe in a better world. 

I am eager to start the new year. I am ready for a self built reality filled with happiness and pleasant present moments.

It is time for a new painting. Always time for a new chance.
PAINTING AVAILABLE FOR SALE – 30x40cm – acrylics on canvas – “Kökar”, 2016.

Christmas Sale!


Seven pieces for sale. Exclusive, original, unique Christmas gifts for your very loved, special ones.

1- Orange Blue Vase

2- Cat on the table

3- grandpa’s home

4- The rain

5- The party

6- Tea time

7- Norwich

Get in touch and get more information: lucianamariano1@hotmail.com / WhatsApp: +5511983340910

Merry Christmas 🎄🎅🏼🎁❤️

Empty spaces

December arrives and the year ends. It sounds like a metaphore for life…and it is.

The end of the year brings loads of thoughts and considerations about things that really matter and other things that simply fade away, as they never even existed. Empty spaces are so poetic. It is time to make room for the new, emptying boxes, drawers, minds, hearts and souls of the things, feelings and thoughts that no longer have place, importance or use. We are getting one year further away from what was and approaching whatever else it will be. Letting go is not always an easy thing to do. Some of the things left behind can never be replaced, but they still need to be left behind. December is time to celebrate symbols and comemorate our capacity to love and reinvent, end and restart. December holds, besides many beloved friends’, my brother’s and my son’s birthday. One is forever missed and gone and the other one is my reason to carry on. December is not an easy month for me. But it is also one of my very favorite times of the year. With lovely smells and tastes like glöck, roast, cakes and cookies. It has sprinkled magic disguised as tiny bright lights and candles. Hot and cold. Extreme conditions, feelings and weather, according to where you are and how you feel.

December, for me, is a cozy empty space.