One of those quiet days

I actually put off answering texts or really doing anything until about 5 p.m. today. With all the workload, and handling my own projects, I need those quiet hours occasionally. I think they’re important for everyone doing something creative!

Well, I do work. I have a daytime job, but it can be really quiet and really just a matter of reading a book while listening for signs that I need to get up and handle things. So I do everything at once, but today I opted for the book and the sketching paper as it was a calm day with not a lot of assignments. I didn’t even have to cook today. Betcha didn’t know that I can cook meat. I remember everything from home-ec class, and I do listen to what the carnevores say when they’re cooking. I’ve had the meat handling graded from a really picky cook, and she said it’s absolutely fine and she enjoys it!

But I stray! Remember those quiet hours of meditation. It doesn’t have to be everyday, but maybe one day a week to remind you of the important things and that everything needs a chill period.

Lyrics gone good again.

How come this room’s so quiet? How come these walls are closing in?
Why can’t I find you sleeping, inside your box of broken wings? I guess I’m not your reason…
To fly, I asked you why, but you just smiled and rose again
If I’m not broken then you’re not either but it’s still hard to see you walk away…
Thanks, grandpa Pelle. I really had this writer’s block, where I’d fine melodies but no good lyrics (my forte!) But I think you loosened it, the one good thing coming out of these sad times. And you invited wise Sarah to be my songwriting archetype. And she rarely visits, as I’m only 28. Blessed be, beloved Pelle.

Music video on the go!

Come february, a pretty awesome video where the artist does her own stunts will see the light of day. The last of the filming is on Thursday, and then the talented Saga Högfeldt will do the editing.

I’ve finally had a feel of not doing absolutely everything. While the script is mine, the additional script writing and light setting is aided by at least three professionals. It’s not that I’m not confident I can do it. It’s just that the music is my speciality, and I’ve learned the other things along the way just to be able to make the project happen. Now my extra knowledge simply made the work go faster. I know about angles, acting and pic scripts. I know about light and how to make myself not cast a bad shadow. And it made the work so breezy, so I still recommend learning all the elements. I think that might be what makes the best artist, the ones who listen, learn and get at least one foot into all the other project pieces. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, to get involved, it’s fun and appreciated!

Anyways, look forward to february and the first single from Animalic, it’s gonna be quite epic! 😀

Milk Carton

Milk Carton

(Click on the headline to hear the song)

This is a particularly important song for me creatively, as it’s one of the few I’ve done with a ficitional story to it. An abused woman flees her husband, who is probably pretty powerful, and drives cross-state with her unborn baby to get away. The bright dub of the chorus is actually the baby talking, which you can hear as it starts whispering and finally stops singing at “I won’t be” in the end.

I heard J.K. Rowling had trouble killing off Dumbledore when she wrote Harry Potter, and had to take lots of breaks in writing as it was very emotional. I did have my moments. I really started to root for this woman, as she was strong, decisive, and she had finally gotten away and had those at ease moments, even on the run, eating at diners and sleeping in motels.

But the song is called Milk Carton for a reason, the story had already laid itself out for me long before the song was written down, and the song itself is circular. It starts off with her already lying bleeding on the bed, so it can’t very well have a happy ending. The thing about circular songs is once you start writing them, you can’t really change them as they start off with the ending. I took a break before recording the end. So she could be safe and alive for a few more hours. I had to give her that, seeing as I gave the woman such a tragic story.

Anyways, at a time when I was between equipment but still felt the need to record, this song became a capella, and one of the few ones I’ve actually done without instruments. I learned that I could use my voice for a lot at that time, and that I’d never be pop queen because my expression of what was going on in my head just wasn’t cut that way.

So… important song! I’ll have a look and see if I can squeeze it in as a bonus track on one of my releases.

My greatest inspiration.

Doing a few changes to both personal life and musical life, and this blog applies to both changes. I’ve decided to only make the more creative stuff, the political stuff and the general discussions popping up in my head available to the public. So less personal stuff, those posts will appear on my facebook page, maybe some on instagram and very little on twitter, where I can at least have the illusion that friends I’ve chosen to share it with are the only ones who can read it. All 400 + of those close, personal friends, eh? 😉

So my old blog, mariabohm.blogg.se will soon be shutting down, I’ll wait a little while so my readers can find their way to this one. Aaaanyways, wordpress has a bigger audience, and those I really direct these opinions to have a greater chance to get to read it.

My first blog subject is a no-brainer, I can’t think of anything or anyone to make it about who’s better than my dear grandpa, Pelle Bohm. For those of you who don’t know, the world recently lost this wonderful man. On january 11th, 2013, he made heaven a little more beautiful with his presence. The last words we interchanged, and our last moments, will remain between us. They are for my ears, and his spirit only.

But I can tell you, I lost both a wonderful granddad and a good friend. Many might not know that my original surname was Johnsen. Growing up with many visits at Pelle’s, where he taught me how to play chess, solve intricate 3-dimensional puzzles, read the old classics and watch and listen to the oldies, I realized a great heritage, the Bohm heritage, would be lost. The soldier name, the monogrammed towels, the 1800 swords, the Bohm Island, everything. The Bohms had loadsa girls, all following traditions and taking their husbands surnames, so Bohm was disappearing. “On my father’s side, there are 5 Johnsen grandchildren. There are no Bohms. It’s not fair. I should at least be Johnsen-Bohm.” The personel working at where you change your name in Sweden were probably in a lazy mood that day, so they replied: “No, you can’t be both. It’s Johnsen or Bohm.” I was only 18, but I didn’t even have to sit down and think it through. “Bohm it is then” I said immediately. “I’ve always felt more like a Bohm.” Mom got really excited, let me tell you, but not half as happy as granddad when she phoned him up to tell him. So from that day, it was “Lilla Bohmen” and “Stora Bohmen”. Inside Gothenburg joke.

As a musician, you have no idea how he’s been my help and inspiration. Donating his old (working, lovely old school) music stuff to me, among them a Tandberg, contributing to me buying some goood equipment, himself learning violin at 60 good enough to play on recordings with Västgöta Spelemän and… I dunno… just having such fun with life. Grabbing it instead of waiting for it. I studied science of religion, putting an aim at the psychology, just to get more inspiration (and wanting to be Bono when I grow up) and learn about people, I learned more from him during my visits on my breaks. He served tea, we ate cookies. That man loved his sweets and his crisps and his whiskey, oh… the apple doth not fall far from the tree 😉 And he became a person. He became my buddy. We talked grandma, he played me her pleasant speaking voice on the Tandberg, and he talked about how she was THE ONE and nothing felt right after her. And we looked through photo albums, and whenever he was in it, he always looked very lovingly at his family. Grandma. Mom. Us kids. It was like he loved us so much he couldn’t take his eyes off of us. And it moves me still, it was so genuine. The only time he looked away was when he enjoyed all his fantastic travels, and (ooooh, apple-tree) new tech stuff and taking photographs. He was sooo fascinated by both science and arts, I mean, he had something for all the grandkids to play with 🙂 Smart was cool. Art was cool. My music was fascinating. I’ve followed him unknowingly, apparently he had a summer school in Weymouth (where I went to college) and worked a good while in what we call Schlätta, where I live now, so he would always listen to my stories and nod. He knew, cause he had been there already. I was only half aware that I had actually gone to the same places as him and lived and worked, I just thought the places seemed appealing. So weird ;D

We would have such long talks. Person to person. I think it’d surprise you that most older people are just 22-year-olds in an old persons body. It doesn’t surprise me anymore. The only difference is that the older people have more interesting stories to tell. And when it comes to my grandpa; SOOO many more. He showed me Beijing and London. Honestly. He just treated the family to the travels. So fantastic. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The best travels I’ve ever done is with him.

It all inspired me when he was alive, and it feels like this spry person is lost to the world. The world needed him. Going through all his boxes brings my tears out, not only for me, but because the world has lost a bonified cool person and I’ve lost a buddy.

Honestly? I’m gonna be lost a while without him. I know I’ll rise a different person, for the better, when the tears subside, and inspiration will probably come more easy than ever. But you’re gonna have to be patient. Much like Scarecrow and Tin Man in The Wizard of OZ (thanks to him my first every fav film, cred, eh?) I have to get to my OZ and have my inner wizard tell me “You had a brain and a heart all along!” but first, I have to walk that Yellow Brick Road. For always, Stora Bohmen. Du fattas mig.

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