Unfinished Woman

Unfinished Woman: A Memoir by Robyn Davidson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Strange and charming book, although difficult to say what it is about.
The solid ground should be autobiographical facts but they are not.
Robyn starts with spelling out doubts about credibility of our memory and memory of people who knew or met her.
Even the bare facts which could be verified, are not quite clear.
Of course I was curious what is her memory of time spent in London with Salman Rushdie. From other sources I know that she was his partner in London, I found a quite clear reference to Robyn in Satanic Verses.
In this case, Robyn in her book, makes a very sensible jink - she just mentions that she fell in love with a wonderful man and they spent 2 years together.
Also Robyn's Wikipedia page is extremely dry.
We have to rely on the book and I found it quite rewarding. Difficult to explain, I just felt charmed.

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Robots at ease

Few days ago unstoppable Google notified me that Agnieszka Pilat visited Melbourne with three robots to demonstrate their painting capabilities.

If painting then National Gallery of Victoria - NGV.
I started Googling: "NGV pilate..." - Google suggested - NGV pilates.

It was enough to distract me, so I followed this lead - results:
- pilates class (gymnastic exercises) on the roof of the gallery,
- Contrology - a sculpture of a board with legs and a fin performing Pilates exercises (note - this was the name used by Joseph Pilates when he invented his exercise technique.)
- Dream of Pilate's wife - engraving from 1874

STOP!
Contrology - time to take control of Google, I enquired "Agnieszka Pilat NGV".
Got her!

Source: Instagram.

Last Sunday, Melbournians could see the robots in action and watch in person an interview with Ms. Agnieszka.

3 o'clock, the very center of the city, what a crowd, traffic, chaos, confusion.
In front of the railway station, a homeless woman is sleeping carelessly on the ground.
A few steps further and I'm right in the middle of this crowd.
I must admit that it was a bit too much for me, I had maybe 150m to go, but after few steps I had had enough.

A calming interlude along the way, a bridge over the Yarra River...

In front of the gallery, a hand with a thumb pointing up encouraged me...

There was also a lot of traffic inside the gallery, free admission, various exhibitions, including those for children.

Only the sculptures of two proletarians brought some peace - only one could fit into the lens...

The interview with Mrs. Agnieszka took place in a huge hall, there were several rows of chairs at the front, then randomly placed chairs, stools, a bar counter, slight confusion.

I sat down in the second row of chairs, a slim blonde was sitting right in front of me, I also noticed yellow shoes, the same ones as in the photo at the beginning of the post...

Czy pani Agnieszka (Ms. Agnieszka)? - I asked in Polish.

Quite a surprise, but Ms. Agnieszka greeted me nicely, we talked for a while in Polish, then switched to English so as not to isolate us from the surroundings.

After a while, a highly titled interviewer approached us, time for the stage...

Unfortunately, this was a disappointment for me.

Firstly, there was a lot of noise in the hall,  secondly - talking through microphones, there was a huge reverberation in the room, it was difficult for me to hear and understand it. The conversation was translated into sign language, I thought deaf people "heard" more.
Thirdly, and most importantly, this conversation did not make much sense to me :(

Here is some approximation of its content - CLICK.

I did not have a chance to talk to Mrs. Agnieszka anymore, so I moved to see the robots in action...

The robots did not paint, they just moved around two rooms connected by a passage with stairs. From this I concluded that they have sight, but I guess they could not hear, I spoke to them in Polish and English and there was no sign of reaction.

So here I will share the questions that bothered me:
- what activities robots are programmed to perform and what activities they perform on their own - if they do anything on their own at all.

Specifically - we turn on the robot and what?
Will it move at all? Why?
On what principle does it change the direction of movement, nod its head, stops, moves from room to room???
Why is it painting?

During the interview, Ms. Agnieszka mentioned that humanity should seriously consider what kind of relationship we want to have with robots, who will be the aristocracy of the future, will technology mature to the stage of creating a religion?

I felt humbled and went to the exit.

A fountain of flames bid me farewell...

Agnieszka Pilat - Wikipedia - CLICK

Strange encounter

 Halfway through my studies, when my enthusiasm for studying had somehow waned, I started taking piano lessons.
I didn't expect any achievements, the main goal was to get acquainted with music more tangibly. I had a lot of time to practice, so I made rapid progress.

During the holidays, I visited my mother in Kielce, where I found a piano at the Provincial Cultural Center so I could also practice.
My hit piece was L. Beethoven's Bagatelle - Für Elise - CLICK.

While playing, I felt someone standing behind me and I stopped playing.
- Nice piece - said the stranger - may I try?
I made room for him.

He looked at the notes and immediately played quite correctly, after a while he started improvising... and that's when I recognised him.
It was probably the 5th grade of primary school. A new student came to our class.
There were only 16 boys in the class, so each addition/departure was a big event.
"New" was not very communicative and rather invisible during lessons and breaks, until one day he noticed an open piano in the general hall, sat down on the edge of a stool and started playing.
I don't remember what it was, probably some popular melody, but he played it completely relaxed, it made an impression.

Step by step, we learned that his parents had transferred him to our private school because he had been expelled from the TPD school (Society of Friends of Children). The reason for the expulsion... we had to wait for an explanation, finally he said - he played Red Poppies at Monte Cassino * on the piano.
Despite our requests, he did not play this melody for us.

One day I invited him and another friend to my house for after-school fun - a game of knucklebones, tin soldiers, coin football.
Demonstration of knucklebones  HERE.

The games were going sluggishly, I don't know what came to my mind, but at some point I boasted that I had a fountain pen with a gold nib in my desk drawer.
It was a gift from my American aunt. My mother immediately sold these types of gifts because these were our priorities.

My friends' visit was coming to an end. Since we washed our hands during the visit (in a bowl because we didn't have a bathroom), I poured water from the bucket into the toilet in the corridor and took them to the street.

When my mother returned from work, I told her about the visit.
My mother immediately looked into the drawer in my table - there was no fountain pen.

Complete consternation - mine - such cool friends, mother's - how to survive until the end of the month.
She wrote a letter to my class teacher asking for clarification.
The teacher was nervous, during a long break she asked the three of us into the staff room and asked me to report the event.
None of my friends confessed.
- When Leszek left with the bucket, you said - "now we can nick something from him" - a "pianist" broke the silence.
- I said it and you nicked - the accused replied.
- I didn't nick anything - was the "pianist's" response
The teacher looked at us helplessly - if no one confesses, I will have to report it to the teachers' council - she commented and ended the meeting.

During the next break, the "pianist" dragged me to a corner - Leszek, I did it, I don't know what came over me, just please don't tell anyone, I will return the pen to you tomorrow.
This confession moved me so much that I wanted to take him in my arms.
At the next opportunity, I approached the teacher and said that the perpetrator had confessed, the case is over, don't tell anyone about it.

The next day - the "pianist" did not come to school. For me it was quite a shock.
The mother wrote another letter to the teacher - the end of the school year was approaching, so she suggested that the perpetrator should not be issued a school certificate.

During the break, the teacher went to the office, and after a while she came back with an uncertain face - his mother was at school yesterday, she said that they were moving somewhere and took her son's school certificate.
Another shock - how to tell my mother about this?

I took a closer look at the person who joined me.
I had no doubts - it was HIM.
Did he recognize me?
We had both changed a lot, I wouldn't have recognized him in a crowd, but I was sure he recognized me. It seemed to me that from time to time he gave me an inquisitive look and a smile - I don't know - mocking or controlling.

I felt so helpless.

Today's illustration - a house in the middle of nowhere.

* Red Poppies at Monte Cassino - a Polish patriotic song commemorating a victory in a very important battle in WWII, In Communist Poland participation of Polish Army under British command in WWII was quite inconvenient subject.
Song HERE.