Art de vivre de manière créative.: Englische Ausgabe.

By Anna Konyev

In diesem Buch geht es um talentierte und kreative Menschen, die die Welt aus anderen Perspektive sehen. Es stellt Künstler, Designer, Fotografen uns Experten der französischen Küche vor. Jeder von Ihnen hat seine eigene Geschichte, die fasziniert und motiviert. Diese Menschen sind sehr unterschiedlich, aber sie haben eines gemeinsam: jeder von Ihnen ist von Frankreich und der französischen Kultur inspiriert.

• Language: English
• Publisher: tredition
• Release date: Apr 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9783384182869

Anna Konyev

Anna Konyev ist 1985 geboren und hat Betriebsmanagement an der Nationalen Akademie in der Ukraine studiert und daraufhin promoviert. Heute ist sie verheiratet, hat einen Sohn und lebt in Heilbronn. Konyev arbeitet als Institutsassistentin für das Institut für Digitalisierung und Elektrisch Antriebe an der Hochschule Heilbronn. Seit ihrer Kindheit ist Konyev fasziniert von der Literatur, schreibt eigene Prosa und Gedichte und verarbeitet so ihr Gefühlsleben. Vor kurzem hat sie sich ihren Traum erfüllt, bereiste die schönsten Gegenden der Provence und verliebte sich in sie auf den ersten Blick. Diese Berührung mit der Harmonie zweier Sphären zwischen Traum und Realität hat sie in ihrer Erzählung verarbeitet und verwirklichte so ihr Lebensmotto: „Das Leben ist einzig und unwiederholbar, man sollte dieses so ausfüllen, dass aus jedem isoliert betrachteten Moment ein eigenes Werk entstehen würde.“ Konyev hat gelernt, dass man, um die Provence zu lieben – ähnlich einer bedingungslosen Hingabe zum Menschen –, Zeit braucht, die auch Konyev sich genommen hat: Nahezu zehn Jahre lang hat sie sich mit der französischen Sprache, Kultur und Traditionen vertraut gemacht und Freunde in Frankreich gefunden. Mit jedem Augenblick, den Konyev der Provence gewidmet hat, wurde ihre Verbundenheit stärker und ihre Liebe inniger, bis Konyev bereit war „einen Teil [ihres] Geheimnisses – den Ort an dem [ihr] Haus ‚gebaut‘ wurde [– zu lüften].“

Book preview

Chapter 1. Talent […] – it's the ability to do things that no one has taught us.– Alfred Conan (1862–1940). [1]

The morning started quite early today. The long wait for a vacation, a change of scenery and thoughts of new adventures, did not allow me to enjoy the silence and the slow process of awakening. The daily pursuit of fleeting time, new projects, ideas and the modern world of inhuman relationships have affected my inner state and psychological mood. It seemed to me that I looked like a squeezed lemon, a desert or a dried-up lake in which a living organism could not exist a priori. My vital energy was running out and I urgently needed to change the situation and charge my internal battery. I lacked positivity, energy, a rush of bright emotions and most importantly, I missed my beloved France.

We often look at ourselves from one angle and do not want to notice how multifaceted our life is. It seems to us that we are completely dependent on circumstances or on people, without whom our life will become empty. We think that without love, prosperity, material benefits, stable work, life will simply lose its meaning. Or maybe the problem lies in ourselves? Perhaps all these are stereotypes that society imposes on us?

By accepting such a life, we forget ourselves, stop enjoying life and think only about how to keep up with universal prestige, make ourselves believe in other people's dreams, or worse, become part of someone else's dream. We believe in everything that people impose on us, we want to catch the very lucky chance that may have been in our hands for a long time. We want to get someone else's happiness, as if to try on another life and become better and happier from it. A person ceases to be himself, to appreciate what life has rewarded him with, to be happy at the moment. Why is this happening? What are we missing in the pursuit of an impossible dream? Perhaps ourselves?

Each person is beautiful, individual, talented and unique in his own way. We too often rely on fate, forgetting that it is in ourselves that the secret of a successful and happy life lies. We just need to believe in our strength, develop individual qualities of character, talents and abilities, feed off inner energy, do what we love and be happy at the same time! After spending several hours in a warm bathroom while thinking about future trips and new acquaintances, I began to feel hungry. Before starting my exciting journey into the world of culture, art and creativity, I wanted to go to a cozy Café near my house to recuperate, have breakfast and enjoy the happy moment of the upcoming vacation.

After ordering a cup of hot chocolate and a warm pancake with lavender honey, nuts and baked apple on the outdoor terrace of the city Café. I enjoyed a French breakfast, morning silence and the first rays of the summer sun.

Crêpes au miel

Ingredients:

Dough: 250 g flour – 500 ml milk – 4 eggs – 50 g butter – salt – 1 packet of vanilla sugar.

Filling: 6 apples – 30 g of sugar – 1 packet of vanilla sugar – a pinch of cinnamon – 175 ml of water – powdered sugar.

Preparation:

Melt 50 g of butter in a frying pan. In a deep container, mix 250 g of flour, 1 packet of vanilla sugar and 1 pinch of salt with a whisk or fork. Then beat 4 eggs and gradually pour in 500 ml of milk, stirring constantly. When the butter has melted, let it cool down a little and then stir it into the dough. When the dough is smooth, set it aside for 10-15 minutes and leave to rise.

Filling:

Peel and core 6 apples. Cut them into pieces and fry in a frying pan (without fat) with 30 g of sugar, 1 packet of vanilla sugar, a small amount of cinnamon and 175 ml of water at medium temperature. Cook for 15-20 minutes, covered, until the apples are soft. Carefully place the pancake batter in a greased frying pan with a ladle or ladle. Use only enough dough so that the thinnest layer of dough covers the bottom of the pan. When the dough becomes a little firmer after a while, turn the pancake over and fry on the other side until both sides are evenly golden brown.

Then serve the finished pancakes on a plate filled with apple compote and sprinkled with a small amount of powdered sugar. Serve the pancakes with various fruit sauces, condensed milk, honey, or a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

After a sweet start to the day, I wanted to go for a walk along the city embankment, watching random passers-by and enjoying the first day of a welldeserved vacation. In our daily worries, we often deny ourselves the elementary human joys: a warm bath with foam and the smell of lavender, a morning walk around the city, a leisurely breakfast at our favorite Cafe, an apero with friends, a family dinner and conversations about the beautiful.

Strangely enough, I began to appreciate every happy moment after my first acquaintance with France. This country has not only conquered my heart, captivated my mind, but also taught me to look at the world from a different angle. It was here that for the first time I wanted to stop, be alone with myself and listen to my inner voice. For the first time, I dared to ask myself the question of what I would like to do and devote my free time to? France helped me make the right choice, believe in my own strength and begin to develop the natural talents that the universe has awarded me since childhood.

Frequent relocations, job changes, countries, cities and close surroundings required dynamism and time to adapt to new conditions. I had to forget for a while about my childhood dream of writing books, drawing and traveling through the regions of France in search of gastronomic masterpieces. It all seemed like a beautiful fairy tale and a non-existent reality. But after my first trip to sunny Provence, a lot has changed. Most likely, I have changed myself, my worldview, inner values and life priorities.

Many scientists believe that the country of residence affects the lifestyle of the population and forces a person to adapt to certain social rules, housing conditions and cultural characteristics of the immediate environment. I completely agree with these observations and share the opinion of sociologists that every person has a corner on the world map that motivates, inspires and helps to maximize the innate talents of an individual.

My Paradise is located on the Cote d'Azur of sunny Provence, among the chirping of cicadas and endless lavender fields. Ten years ago, in early spring, when I first arrived in the fishing village of Saint Tropez, my worldview changed dramatically. Strolling through the deserted old streets, enjoying the first rays of the sun and the local cuisine, I wanted to come to this region as often as possible, learn French, the regional peculiarities of Provence and devote my free time to literature and art.

As a child, my parents began to notice my penchant for drawing, languages and literature. Seeing the love of beauty in my daughter, they managed to provide me with all the conditions for the development of natural skills and talents.

Talent cannot be cultivated if a person in this field really does not have it, but the main task is to instill skills of professionalism and skill, not to eradicate it and not to suppress it with influence.

My grandmother believed that talent lies in perceiving the world with your own eyes – and this, it would seem, should be the most natural position of an artist and any person, in relation to the world (the psychological problem is rather how one can be untalented and perceive the world through other people's eyes). However, in provocative circumstances – when faced with misunderstanding, mockery, demands to please someone or something – a talented person begins to realize that it was originally natural for him and therefore unnoticeable: he feels his authenticity (the presence of talent), which still exists and constitutes the highest value, a shrine that he dares not change under any circumstances.

Influences are everything except us. – Goethe said. That is, everything that affects talent becomes its own property if there is talent itself: if the artist remains sincere in this. The task of a pseudo-artist is to please some circle, some taste; and here he has before his eyes a lot of examples of how this task has been solved by others, so it seems to him that only one of them can imitate; but this, in turn, is hindered by the task of being original (neither unlike anyone else) – and now he has to be afraid of influences… All this is not from talent. Talent is able to bring to life only what a person feels. Here, of course, other people's findings can help (push, direct, induce something in the soul, untie your hands). But even learning from others, talent takes only its own from them.

Art is a loving comprehension of being; an artist's talent is an extreme degree of indifference to something, or, to put it a little differently, comprehending, pressing the soul of love. Immersed in thoughts of childhood, favorite books and enjoying solitude, I wanted to raise my head to heaven and once again thank the universe with all my heart for the opportunity to live, love with all my soul, appreciate the beautiful and be happy!

Passing by the flower market, I could not resist the temptation to buy a bouquet of my favorite lavender, so that during the holidays I would often remember traveling to sunny Provence. Since childhood, flowers have been my weakness, I can walk for hours in parks, gardens, admire them in city flower beds and I cannot pass indifferently by flower markets, from which the fragrant aromas of my favorite lavender, jasmine and chamomile emanate. What could be more beautiful than flowers? Their natural beauty inspires artists, writers and gives the world the opportunity to contemplate the ideals of wildlife.

Once, when I arrived in Paris, they told me a beautiful story about flowers and eternal love. I don't know if this is true or fiction, but every time I pass by the flower market, this romantic and sad story of eternal love for a woman and flowers comes to my mind.

One of the most touching stories of the life of the great poet Mayakovsky happened to him in Paris when he fell in love with Tatiana Yakovleva. There could be nothing in common between them – a Russian emigrant, chiseled and refined, brought up on Pushkin and Tyutchev, did not perceive a word from the chopped, hard, torn verses of the fashionable poet.

She didn't take any of his words at all, even in real life. Furious, frantic, going ahead, living on his last breath, he frightened her with his unrestrained passion. She was not touched by his doglike devotion she was not bribed by his fame. Her heart remained indifferent. And Mayakovsky went to Moscow alone.

From this instantly flared up and failed love, he was left with a secret sadness and to us – a magical poem Letter to Tatiana Yakovleva with the words: I'll take you someday anyway-alone or together with Paris!

She left flowers. Or rather, Flowers. Vladimir Mayakovsky deposited his entire fee for Parisian performances in the bank to the account of a well–known Parisian flower company with the only condition that several times a week Tatiana Yakovleva was brought a bouquet of the most beautiful and unusual flowers - hydrangeas, Parma violets, black tulips, red roses, orchids, asters or chrysanthemums. A Parisian firm with a solid name clearly followed the instructions of a madcap client – and since then, regardless of the weather and the time of year, twice a week messengers with bouquets of fantastic beauty and a single phrase knocked on Tatiana Yakovleva's door: From Mayakovsky.

He died in the thirtieth year – this news stunned her like a blow of unexpected force. She is already used to the fact that he regularly invades her life, she is already used to knowing that he is somewhere and sends her flowers. They did not see each other, but the fact of the existence of a man who loves her so much influenced everything that happened to her: so the Moon, to one degree or another, affects everything living on Earth only because it constantly rotates nearby.

She no longer understood how she would live on – without this crazy love dissolved in flowers. But in the order left to the flower company by the poet in love, there was not a word about his death. And the next day, a messenger appeared on her doorstep with the same bouquet and the same words: From Mayakovsky.

They say that great love is stronger than death, but not everyone manages to embody this statement in real life. Vladimir Mayakovsky succeeded. Flowers were brought in the thirtieth, when he died and, in the fortieth, when he was already forgotten. During the Second World War, Tatiana Yakovleva survived in Paris occupied by the Germans only because she sold these luxurious bouquets on the boulevard.

If each flower was the word love, then for several years the words of his love saved her from starvation. The messengers grew up before her eyes, new ones replaced the old ones and these new ones already knew that they were becoming part of a great legend – small, but integral. And already as a password that gives them a pass to eternity, they said, smiling with the smile of conspirators: From Mayakovsky.

Flowers from Mayakovsky have now become a Parisian story. Whether it's true or a beautiful fiction, one day, in the late seventies, Soviet engineer Arkady Ryvlin heard this story in his youth, from his mother and always dreamed of going to Paris. Tatyana Yakovleva was still alive and willingly accepted her compatriot. They talked for a long time about everything in the world over tea and cakes. In this cozy house, flowers were everywhere – as a tribute to the legend and it was inconvenient for him to ask the gray-haired royal lady about the romance of her youth: he considered it indecent.

But at some point, he couldn't stand it, asked if it was true that flowers from Mayakovsky saved her during the war? Isn't this a beautiful fairy tale? Is it possible for so many years in a row:

– Drink tea, – replied Tatiana, – drink tea. You're not in a hurry, are you?

And at that moment the doorbell rang… He had never seen such a magnificent bouquet in his life, behind which there was almost no messenger – a bouquet of golden Japanese chrysanthemums, similar to clusters of the sun. And from behind an armful of this splendor sparkling in the sun, the messenger's voice said: From Mayakovsky.

This beautiful story about the great love of a great poet still lives in my heart and makes me believe that miracles need to be done with my own hands. Probably, my childhood spent in the company of books and my passion for literature and art became the basis for the formation of me as a person.

Of course, I am a creator and a connoisseur of beauty. Quality, not quantity, plays a key role in my life. The opportunity to create and be close to creative people gives me an incentive to work and a desire to write, draw, do what I love, reach new heights and, of course, find time to travel around the regions of France in search of culinary geniuses.

I have