Café Crem

Art, Music and Words around The Coffee Table

Strange Costumes: Chap. 3 – Playing the Field

I just finished the art for Chapter 3 of my altered book project. The text is small…here it is so you can read it:

Chapter 3: Playing the Field


          Fantastic information we find in the field. Tasty instrument, hear it play, food he likes. Searching shallow ends for frogs and fish, we get too close and find edges have snapped.

          In scenery sharp and strange we play; very vivid, very thin, and very fond of fruit. I hope the tree-top toucan can support all the weight.

          See the colorful two, overlap and sway, planting the seeds of the future. Penknife and pine, the hungry fulcrum faintly tips.

          Our friends are prying and peculiar. Stories are told. Perfectly attractive, bold and yellow, red and blue. We pick out our decorations so carefully.

          We find seeds and weeds for large appetites, all of them eating out of habit. Muddy mouthfuls make it difficult to speak. Entire worlds are reduced to hums and beats.
          Hands and arms, legs and feet, tiny twitters, a deep low beat. Graceful games turn frantic in a storm. Run and frisk, high and low, coming in and out of sight. Quick and urgent, they cry, they cry.

~~~~In other news~~~~

Five feet of separation

I was 5 feet away from Jane Fonda the other night! I donated art to a fundraising auction she was hosting for G-CAPP (Georgia Coalition for Adolescent Pregnancy Prevention). It was an inspiring evening, and I got a nice pic of Jane when the guy behind me had the winning bid on her clock:




The theme was “It’s About Time.” IKEA donated clocks to the artists to use in their creations. Here is my piece, “Dear Mr. Time”:

This is what the art looked like before I put it into the clock:

October 11, 2009 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, photo, Shelley's Creations, women | , | 16 Comments

Bubble Boy – 20 –

Bubble Boy - 20 - , by Miki

Bubble Boy - 20 - , by Miki

(Original German Version)

(Bubble Boy – 1 –)     (Bubble Boy – 19 –)

But although he knew he was in the wrong place, he couldn’t help continuing to look at the amazing scenery, the play of the waves crowned with  millions of pearls falling at his feet and rolling back again into the sea. And also, far away beyond the horizon, Bub could see a red light in the sky, and again it reminded him of something which filled his heart with nostalgia. It was the second time now that he’d had this kind of weird sensation and he began asking himself what it could be and if it meant something. And he thought that perhaps he would find out, going along the other two paths..

Bub had a last glance at the fantastic scenery and then walked all the way back to the crossing. As he arrived there, he decided to go on without a rest, uncaring of Tiwoo, who was protesting with a great flapping of her wings and loud screams. The owl was not so tired this time, as they had had such a long rest by the sea, and she was hoping to find a way to free Barbra while Bub would sleep. Strangely enough, she started to miss her little Witch, was impatient  to see her miserable face again and hear her awful screams of anger.
Strange, isn’t it, that when we are separated from the persons we love, we soon start to miss even what we most hate in them! Yes, love is such a mystery…

Anyway, she didn’t understand Bub’s sudden zeal, She even started again to think about the possibility of scratching out his eyes. But well, as a wise owl she knew that such an important decision had better be thought on twice, and she decided to wait a little bit longer. To be honest, she hadn’t yet seen everything in Barbra’s land, and well, her longing to see her was still not so deep that it demanded immediate action. Waiting a little bit longer would just make the reunion sweeter, wouldn’t it?
This is why she spread her big wings and flew behind Bub Southwards.

Bub ran and ran and ran… the ground was soft and became softer and softer, so that each step was harder and harder. No wind was blowing anymore and the air was hot and dry. The ground was made out of millions of fine grains, similar to the ones he has seen on the beach. But here it was not pleasant, the tickling under his feet really felt like fire and an oppressive smell was lingering all around.

If you are quite clever and well travelled, you might have understood that Bub was now standing in the middle of the desert. Of course he had no idea what a desert is, but he already knew that he didn’t like it.
“Could this really my way?” he asked himself
But then he suddenly saw a weird plant with thorns, which again  reminded of something, something he believed he had seen somewhere a long time ago. And this something again woke in him a nostalgic feeling like the one he had had before.
This is when Bub suddenly understood one of the most important things in the life of all inhabitants of our big universe: without really being aware of it: he was in search of something!
In case you are wondering what I am speaking about: normal people, grown-ups above all,  with a rather more sophisticated vocabulary and experience than our Bub, call it something like „the search for the sense of existence”, or „the meaning of life’, or  “what the hell I am doing here on Earth?” You surely have heard many of them asking these questions with terribly sad faces, haven’t you? So you exactly know what I mean!

But Bub of course hadn’t a clue about all this philosophical mumbo-jumbo. He just understood that that something he was reminded of all the time was simply what he was searching for. And this is why he hoped, in spite of the heat and the awful smell, that he would find HIS something at the end of this way.
He started to run again, but the sand was so heavy under his feet, heavier and heavier, and he only moved forwards agonisingly slowly.

Even Tiwoo was out of breathe. She was now sitting on Bub’s head, and let him carry her through the desert, screaming and moaning and crying that this was not acceptable and that they should go back.

Only Barbra in her bottle had really nothing to moan about. In fact the liquid around her was quite cool, and finally, exhausted after some nights without sleep she had fallen in a kind of meditative state. Well, this is how she called it always, and how some people call it when they don’t want to admit that they have fallen asleep. A strange habit, isn’t it, when one considers how nice it is to sleep! But I am quite sure that she was sleeping, and perhaps even dreaming of glass balls and bubble boys.

Anyway in the meanwhile, weird things had begun to appear on the ground, things which looked quite scary somehow. Things which strangely reminded Bub of the picture on the poison bottle. And then, suddenly, it was there, exactly the same thing as on the bottle: A SKULL!
And without knowing what a skull really is, Bub found it so scary that he screamed.

And not only HE screamed, Tiwoo too, but of course much louder, as she knew all about skulls. She instantaneously took off from Bub’s head  and flew away back to where they had come from, as if the devil was behind her. And without a thought,  Bub turned around and followed her, running as fast as he could….

(next instalment on Thursday 26th March 2009)

By Miki

March 19, 2009 Posted by | animals, Art, books, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, children, Miki's Paintings, Miki's Tale Bubble Boy, painting, women, writing | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Loneliness for 2


In case you worry: no, it’s not us!

I was just about to wash up the glass as I saw this scene…

And to see how this love story ends go to

“Together again!”


By Miki

March 15, 2009 Posted by | Art, love, men, personal, photography, women | 3 Comments

Coffee for an Ex


Miki's Ski Coffee Cup

Monday, time again to have some coffee together here!

I have ordered this cup from my friends from The Bay Attic for a very special and very personal occasion.

As I left Germany some years ago, according to my everlasting habits, I went away leaving behind me most of my personal stuff, things like books, CDs, paintings, clothes, bicycle, skis, etc…  well I am normally not so much attached to “things”, and even less to “past things”, which might be the reason why I leave them behind when they belong to another part of my life. But there is something which I left behind last time, which I really regretted, and wanted to have back: my last ski suit! I don’t know why I especially love that one, perhaps because of the  happy colours, yellow and orange… perhaps also because it fits me very well, and it is rather difficult for me to find these kind of clothes for my unusual body complexion (please, no, don’t ask details!  🙂  ). And surely too because I loved the time I spent wearing it!

My ex-husband was so kind to send it to me some weeks ago, even twice, as the packet wrongly went back to Germany the first time! To thank him I had this cup featuring one of my sport paintings (ski, of course!) specially designed and  made for him. I sent it today, and I hope he will be happy about it.

But this is not all. Now I have a message to everybody: if it is possible, please try to not to keep too many grievances against former partners. For myself I could never understand how people who loved each other once, so much that they married, could end up hating and fighting one another. I can’t really explain why, but this is something which deeply hurts me. Concerning my ex, he has always behaved in a wonderful way since we divorced, although I certainly didn’t deserve it, at least from his point of view… and I still consider him as my friend, the same way as I always did. It is not always easy, I know, because a divorce is a tough thing for everybody, but with some goodwill, it is often possible!

I hope it is possible for all of you, too, who read this post… but honestly, I doubt it!  🙂

By Miki

March 9, 2009 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, coffee, family, friends, life, love, men, Miki's Paintings, women | , , , , , | 15 Comments

My Friend The Little Man

"Samson", by Miki - Pastel & Pencil, 65 x 50 cm, 2009

"Samson", by Miki - Pastel & Pencil, 65 x 50 cm, 2009

Just finished this portrait of one of my favourites actors, Michael J. Anderson, whom I discovered for the first time in the series “Carnivale”. I was seduced at once and always thought when I saw him:

“I wished I had such a little man as a friend…:

I chose to draw him with a coffee cup in the hand, in honour of my favourite place in WordPress:

Café Crem!

by Miki

February 28, 2009 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, culture, film, friends, men, Miki's Paintings, movies, painting, personal, women | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

The Fairy Trees

The Faery Trees

The scent of the elder trees seemed to shimmer in the hot June sunshine, making a heat haze of aromatic oils and dust, as Becky flung herself down in the shade and buried her face in her hands and wept, loudly. The hard earth beneath the two bending bushes had been packed tight by the baking of the summer sun and by small feet, she noticed with some surprise. The worn footprints, made when last the ground here was muddy, were no bigger than her own would have made, and she saw for the first time that the two stunted trees leaned together to make an archway, and beyond it, she could see a narrow path, vanishing into the deeper woodland beyond. The path was barely more than a rabbit run and she wondered why she had never noticed it before.

She wished she had thought to bring a bottle of water; her throat was dry with the heat and it hurt through her wailing. A sob rose again unbidden and she scrubbed at her face as the tears began to course down her face again.

“Why are you crying?”

Becky jumped with shock, and saw to her intense surprise that a girl was standing over her, her face hidden in the mass of wild flaxen hair that tumbled round her shoulders. Becky’s own hair was tied back neatly in a tight plait to keep it from escaping and looking untidy.

“Nothing,” Becky said, gazing at the girl with awe, and rubbing the tears away hastily.

The girl came and sat next to her, her face still shaded a little by her hair and by the dappled shadows cast by the trees they sat beneath.

“You sound so unhappy,” said the girl. “Tell me about it.”

Becky drew a deep and shuddering breath.

“It’s my Gran,” she said. “She’s mean and nasty and she won’t let me have what I want.”

“That’s terrible,” said the girl, her voice sympathetic.

“So I have run away,” Becky continued. “Just for a little while, to scare her, the mean old bitch.”

“Why don’t your parents help you?” the girl asked.

“My parents are divorced,” Becky said. “Dad works abroad. Mum went back to live with her mum; that’s my Gran. So Mum goes out to work and Gran stays home with me. Only, today, we were going to get me new shoes after school, and this is what she made me get!”

Becky pointed dramatically at her feet. The sensible and comfortable shoes were coated in the fine white dust kicked up by these chalky fields in drought.

“They look…” the girl tailed off without finishing.

“Exactly,” said Becky triumphantly. “They’re hideous. I’m going to be a laughing stock at school tomorrow.”

The girl patted her arm.

“We could swap,” she said. “You look like the same size as me.”

Becky glanced at the girl suspiciously. The girl was wearing much the same clothes as herself, jeans and tee shirt, but while Becky’s jeans were a standard supermarket brand, ironed and laundered and ordinary, this girl wore designer jeans, with the artistic rips and chains Becky coveted. Her tee shirt had a neat little Chanel logo on it, and round her neck, where Becky wore a tacky Best Friends Forever pendant on a worn thong, this girl wore a heavy gold chain, bearing a suspiciously real looking diamond. And her shoes! Well, her shoes were the exact pair Becky had seen in a magazine and had begged her Gran to buy for her.

“Why would you want to?” Beck asked grudgingly.

“To make you happy,” said the girl, throwing back her hair and smiling a big broad, braces-free smile. Becky has stopped smiling properly the day they fixed her teeth with braces.

“OK,” said Becky, kicking off her shoes with speed, in case this strange girl changed her mind.

Within a few moments, the exchange was complete. The high-heeled red shores hurt Becky’s feet but after a few moments staggering around, she found she could walk just fine in them. The girl buckled her new sandals and smiled in a way that reminded Becky of her cat’s face when it had just stolen some cream.

“Drink?” said the girl sitting back down in the shade and proffered a bottle.

Becky took an experimental swig and nearly choked.

“But that’s cider!” she exclaimed.

“And?” said the girl shrugging.

“It’s nice,” Becky said meekly and took a long drink.

The sun peeped through the leaves and sparkled on the diamante trimmings of her new shoes; Becky felt the drowsy heat of late afternoon fill her and her eyes felt heavy.

She woke to hear her name being called and shivered. The sun was setting, blood red in the West and the fragrance of the elder trees had begun to smell like a tomcat had used the earth here for a toilet. She scrambled awkwardly to her feet and swayed out from under the shade of the two elder trees. Her grandmother was crossing the field, coming towards her fast.

As she caught sight of her granddaughter, her whole body seemed to spasm, as if with shock.

“Oh no you don’t,” she shouted and Becky cringed before realising that Gran was not shouting at her.

Gran seized her arm firmly and then bent to yank the glorious shoes off Becky’s feet.

“Not my granddaughter, not ever, you conniving little thieves,” she yelled and to Becky’s horror, she threw first one and then the second shoe at the narrow path between the elder trees.

“But Gran, we swapped shoes, they’re my shoes now!” Becky protested, but then stared open-mouthed, unable to believe what she’d seen.

The path had closed up, like a book shutting and now there was no trace of the way through between the two elder trees. Of either pair of shoes there was no trace at all.

Her Gran gave her a little shake, and pointed at the last rays of the sun as they dipped below the horizon.

“Just in time,” she said. “Another few minutes and I’d have been too late.”

Becky felt her tears returning but now they were tears of incomprehensible relief. Gran looked at her, and passed her a hankie.

“Well, losing your shoes is a fair price to pay, I guess,” she said. “You can walk home barefoot or I can give you a piggy back? Which is it to be?”

Becky went to school the next day in her old, worn out shoes and a much better frame of mind.

by Viv (c) 2009

February 27, 2009 Posted by | Cafe Literati, children, death, family, literature, nature, personal, random, Viv's Short Stories, women, writing | , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The Thread


By Miki

February 27, 2009 Posted by | Art, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, death, life, love, men, Miki's Paintings, Miki´s Poetry, personal, poetry, women | , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Window


By Miki

February 26, 2009 Posted by | animals, Cafe Literati, death, life, love, men, Miki´s Poetry, personal, poetry, women, writing | , , , , , | 17 Comments

Happy PrEGGnancy!

No, I am not pregnant!

No, Kevin, either!

And none of the people we know are!

It is just that following the Christmas, New Year and Valentines trend, I have started creating eCards for Easter. Or rather: WE have started. In fact 2 years ago Kevin created for Easter a series of cartoons featuring wordplays on the word “egg” . I liked them so much that I decided to work on them, adding my little personal note. Here is the first one, as always,

premiered in Café Crem!


by Miki

February 25, 2009 Posted by | Cafe L'Arte, Easter, film, Kev Moore's Cartoons, Miki's Paintings, news, painting, personal, women | , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Bubble Boy – 15 –

Bubble Boy - 15 - , by Miki

Bubble Boy - 15 - , by Miki

(Original German Version)

(Bubble Boy – 1 –)     (Bubble Boy – 14 –)

Barbra then watched with horror how the second giant hand uncorked the bottle and poured away some of the liquid inside. She noticed also how the hand which was holding her came closer and closer to the bottle, and suddenly, exactly in the moment when she was directly upon the bottle neck, Barbra felt the pressure against her body vanish: she soon started to go down in free fall! And before she really realised what was going on and she could have the time and the presence of mind to grasp the bottleneck to prevent herself falling further down, plop! She has slipped all the way down to the bottom of the bottle!
You should have seen her face!

She was sitting now with the green liquid all around. She realised that she had been very lucky at least that the poison only reached up to her throat…  imagine what would have happened if the poison was covering her head! She would be dead by now… supposing of course that the mixture was working!
Anyway she was thinking deeply now, how to get out of there. Of course! Wasn’t she a “witch” after all? This was the occasion to show what she could do. She started screaming all the weirdest witches magic curses she knew, you know, things like
“Abracadabra” and “Watapalava” and “Avabanana”
waiting for extraordinary things to happen. And indeed something incredible did happen: the cork was back in the bottleneck!”
Not that this happened by magic: Bub couldn’t bear her screaming and thought that this was the best way to make Barbra shut up!

Tiwoo, of course,  had followed the whole thing from close by, and with increasing curiosity. She was generally much more rational than Barbra, and anyway, not being directly involved in the drama, it was of course easier to judge the situation and to plan the right solution.  She knew that the little Witch had no chance to get free on her own, no way! She had envisaged to help her, flying straight into the face of the boy as he was opening the bottle and to scratch his eyes with her claws, so that Barbra could flee.
But somehow, she could not do such an awful thing. Without knowing exactly why, she found the boy quite sympathetic, in fact much more sympathetic than Barbra herself! To be honest, Tiwoo felt quite ashamed about it, having the feeling to betray Barbra, but well, in the end nobody knew what was going on inside of her and she shouldn’t be bothered too much. Anyway, she was a wise owl and knew that in a difficult situation it is much better not to act too spontaneously
” turn your head seven times around your neck before acting!”
said her mother owl always. She thought it better to wait and see if a less brutal solution came to her mind. But also, to tell the whole truth, she thought that Barbra had deserved a lesson eventually, and it could not really damage her to stay for a while in her crystal jail. Surely the right place to think, to learn patience and reason, she thought, because without thoughts, patience and reason, Barbra had surely no chance to become a big Witch. All this Tiwoo knew it from all of those stories in  those magic books which Barbra always read in a loud voice…

But for now Barbra sat in a poison bottle and again the bottle was in Bub’s hand. Bub had no idea what to do with it, so he simply put his hand holding the bottle inside his pocket, and as he didn’t know what to do with the other hand, he put it in his other pocket.

What now?

(next instalment on Thursday 26th February 2009)

By Miki

February 23, 2009 Posted by | animals, Art, books, Cafe L'Arte, Cafe Literati, children, Miki's Paintings, Miki's Tale Bubble Boy, Parents and Children, personal, women, writing | 1 Comment