Liftoff / Ascending: Summer is over. A slightly depressing conclusion of mine after the end of yet another vacation, which, it seems to me, become shorter every year. Or is it a subjective acceleration of time, some biological contraction instead of relativistic dilatation of a time interval? Whatever, summer's gone and I can't do nothing about it. Except for the image, which is its footprint, a memory of the gulls that fly over the cliffs just to sail on the wind.

Kindergarten: Leaves cover the ground. Big leaves of different colors. Red as an apple. Yellow as ... Doesn't know what. It could be that he sees such yellow for the first time. No. He didn't see it for the first time. He remembered he saw it once a long time ago. Perhaps in the same place? On a fallen leaf. What does that mean? He sees fallen leaves of strong colors for the second time. As if the things repeat if you wait long enough. What does that mean?

A la Jabulani: Soccer balls are known for their interesting symmetry, and everyone knows that the "old fashioned" soccer ball and buckminsterfullerene molecule (made of 60 carbon atoms) have the same symmetry - they are truncated icosahedra with characteristic pentagons and hexagons. One can make all sorts of different things on a sphere surface and use all sorts of polyhedra to form an ornament.

Synthetic bark: Especially interesting are textures on centimeter scales - those are shapes that we perceive as both visual and tactile sensations. Imagine a feeling when stroking moss or bark (and now imagine that you have a gigantic palm so that you can stroke the forest in Gorski Kotar in Croatia - perhaps this would be a similar sensation?). So I wondered, how to encode those tactile elements in synthetic visual?

Island of whale horses: I guess that the story begins with a dream about flying. Dreams about flying are quite rare when one grows up and, thus, one remembers them. In this dream, there was a flight through a strong wind. Its coldness could be felt almost as a knife blade on a cheek. Below the wind and clouds one could see an island. A small island with dark dots that were moving. Those were walruses.

Bob Dylan in Zagreb: Those days on my room doors I had a drawing of Dylan that I pretty skillfully made in crayons or collored wooden pencil technique. The image was from the cover of the album "The times they are a-changin'". Spiky Dylans face that looks upon the world from above. Eh ... So, as Dylan was already then in Zagreb, I said, it is about time to repeat the drawing now, when he arrived again. This time differently, of course, as time demands it.

Real and alternative book covers: How do publishers decide upon a cover page? Well ... I don't get it, really. But the fact is that in the contracts I signed thus far, there was always a statement that reserved all the rights of the publisher to create the cover page. This is obviously important to them because there is a myth that the cover page sells the book. Perhaps this may well be true in the world of superficiality.

Ministry of fear: All sorts of things are going on this days, in the world, but also in the local, micro-levels. One can feel some sort of dissatisfaction and anxiety, fear of future. Perhaps as a consequence of such atmosphere, the images I present were created. They show gloomy buildings of the Ministry of fear that someone "decorated" with the rebellious symbol of freedom. Next to grayness there is hope. But resistance also.

Cherry and pentagon: Cherries. How imperious they are when they blossom and scent in those few days of April announcing thus the sweet fruits of summer. But there is more to cherries than the scent and the taste. There is some interesting geometry to them... The sun is scorching the outside, the greenhouse is surrounded by desert, but the cherries are fine. Note the "unusual" construction of the greenhouse. Note the pentagonal and hexagonal shapes of the glass windows.

Forgotten beauty: Is there anything more beautiful than clouds? For a start, clouds are almost immaterial, they are scattered light (of course, the light is scattered on the drops of water that constitute the cloud, but the drops themselves cannot be seen directly). How many clouds we have filtered-out? How much beauty we have forgotten in all our days? And cloud is a miracle...