Saturday, February 27, 2010

Alhandra




Hoje mais uma vez o rio ganhou a batalha e conseguiu inundar as ruas da vila.
Habituadas a esta longa guerra as pessoas da terra souberam acautelar-se a tempo.
Na vila existe uma fábrica de cimento e o vento Sul que traz as grandes chuvas consigo, traz também o cheiro da mistura calcária crua à entrada dos grandes fornos. Um cheiro que excita as gentes e as traz para as ruas da vila, curiosas de ver a água ou solidária a ajudar um vizinho.

I sing the body electric

Sábado, meio dia.
Subo mais uma vez o monte do "Castelo" acompanhado da Leah e do Baltazar, no miradouro junto à igreja, com o rio e a lezíria a meus pés, sinto a força do vento, que tudo parece querer levar.
O Tejo acirrado pelo vento, atira-se brutal contra os valados, tentando ganhar os campos.
Os pescadores na margem de cá, correm apressados, tentando proteger os barcos da força do temporal. Indiferentes a tudo o resto, os sinos da igreja, começam a tocar e entoam uma singela e feliz melodia.
Como que apoiado nela, um rapaz atira prancha e vela ao rio e com arrojo, cavalga rio e vento, em correrias de velocidade exaltante.
Penso como somos nós, os receptores de toda esta energia e como só nós lhe podemos trazer sentido. De repente sei o que quer dizer : I sing the body electric, porque o sinto no corpo.

Friday, February 26, 2010

another me

always me




April


edouard boubat . rémi écoutant la mer . 1955

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). The Waste Land. 1922.

The Waste Land




I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD


APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering 5
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 15
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

Vain







Site here

Azkenase




a "new" Van Gogh


Vincent van Gogh, Le blute-fin windmill, 1886, oil on canvas, 55.2 by 38 cm. Photo De Fundatie museum

José Sócrates




Não preciso de dizer isto, mas de alguma forma sinto que tenho de o fazer : eu votei em José Sócrates, ou para ser preciso votei no Partido Socialista nas 2 últimas eleições gerais.
Fi-lo porque acho que chegamos a um ponto nas nossas vidas em que devemos ser assertivos, afirmar as nossas escolhas sobre o que queremos para o nosso país e para a nossa vida. Chega de nos escondermos atrás do voto em branco ou da demissão da abstenção.
Pode-se sempre dizer que existiam outras alternativas, algumas mesmo virgens de poder, mas a vida fez-nos realistas, o que acontece no país e no mundo hoje são fenómenos globais, orquestrados, não podemos simplesmente parar e saír fora da engrenagem.
Sabemos que isso não é possível nas nossas vidas privadas, sabemos que politica e economicamente também não o seria possível para o nosso país.
José Sócrates e aqueles que o rodearam, prometeram mudança, mudança a sério daquela que poderia magoar. Magoou e isso sentiu-se, só que esta atitude exigia uma ética, uma maneira de estar que nem José Sócrates, nem os seus amigos, nem o seu partido têm. Muitos dos cidadãos nomeados ou escolhidos para cargos públicos não o mereciam simplesmente, ou então tem-nos exercido sem mérito.
É triste, é muito triste, mas vivemos numa democracia e não temos porque ficar parados, esperando que outros resolvam por nós.
Façamo-nos ouvir, mostremos que estamos atentos e pensamos e julgamos.

old polaroids





Another Walker Evans

I do am...

meditation







Ross Bleckner

Thursday, February 25, 2010

time



beauty

Amazing


SAFE LANDING: Space shuttle Endeavour landed at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Fla., Sunday after completing a mission to deliver parts to the International Space Station. (Gary I. Rothstein/European Pressphoto Agency)

We used to be amazed by the daring feats mankind (or at least the chosen few) took in our attempt to conquer space.
In a time of division, space race united mankind, it celebrated human intelligence and courage. Now in the globalized world it’s second rate news, should it be ?

some people do love trains

let it rain




discréte





Mourad Gharrach est un jeune artiste franco-tunisien, né en 1982. Il est étudiant en 3éme année à l’Ecole nationale supérieure d’Art et de Design - Saint Etienne. Il a déjà participé à la Biennale du design de Saint-Etienne. Il est membre actif du collectif d’artistes et de designers de Green house.

es couleurs de Mourad Gharrach sont simples, noir, blanc et rose mais explosent en de superbes gerbes de lumières et d’ombres.

Femme Mauresque », « Femmes drapées » et « Vierges du désert », effet de réminiscence ou choix délibéré, le désert et la femme sont récurrents dans ses oeuvres.

esoin obsessionnel de restituer son substrat culturel, les photographies de Mourad, travaillées avec minutie, portent en leur sein la discrétion, symbolisée par le voile traité avec une admirable munificence.

a great man

I'm not american, so I never heard about this gentleman before, but his story touched me, I would like very much if you read it too...



"These things come to us, they don't come from us, he writes about his cancer, about sickness, on another Post-it note. Dreams come from us."


"There is no need to pity me, he writes on a scrap of paper one afternoon after someone parting looks at him a little sadly. Look how happy I am."

A great read, a great man
By Chris Jones

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Changed my life




Single man




"Waking up begins with saying am and now. That which has awoken then lies for a while staring up at the ceiling and down into itself until it has recognized I, and therefrom deduced I am, I am now. Here comes next, and is at least negatively reassuring; because here, this morning, is where it has expected to find itself: what’s called at home.

But now isn’t simply now. Now is a cold reminder: one whole day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. Every now is labeled with its date, rendering all past nows obsolete, until — later or sooner — perhaps — no, not perhaps — quite certainly: it will come.

Fear tweaks the vagus nerve. A sickish shrinking from what waits, somewhere out there, dead ahead."

Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man

Human




Architecture of Absence






Architecture of Absence

Caracunde




Violência entre pessoas





Algumas ideias da última crónica de Inês Pedrosa na Única do Expresso :

- Com a limitação do uso da prisão preventiva, aumentaram imenso os maus tratos sobre as mulheres

- Quando uma situação de violência surge, é normalmente a vitima que é forçada a mudar de vida, a "esconder-se" digamos assim em lares de acolhimento (em muitos casos levando consigo crianças)

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Un-organized

I keep things untidy,
Piles of paper accumulate on my desk
Even unread emails clatter
My junk e-mail folder,
So you see the kind of person I am.
Untidy and un-organized.


be home



16 from The Selection of Heaven
Paul Blackburn

...
Let there be soft
wind
where he is, let him hear gulls cry
above the
bridge,
and be home.

L'amour est un oiseau rebelle



Quand je vous aimerai?
Ma foi, je ne sais pas,
Peut-être jamais, peut-être demain.
Mais pas aujourd'hui, c'est certain
L'amour est un oiseau rebelle
que nul ne peut apprivoiser,
et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle,
s'il lui convient de refuser.
Rien n'y fait, menace ou prière,
l'un parle bien, l'autre se tait:
Et c'est l'autre que je préfère,
Il n'a rien dit mais il me plaît.
L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour!
L'amour est enfant de Bohème,
il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi;
si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime:
si je t'aime, prends garde à toi!
Si tu ne m’aimes pas,
Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime!
Mais, si je t’aime,
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!
Si tu ne m’aimes pas,
Si tu ne m’aimes pas, je t’aime!
Mais, si je t’aime,
Si je t’aime, prends garde à toi!
L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre
battit de l'aile et s'envola ...
l'amour est loin, tu peux l'attendre;
tu ne l'attends plus, il est là!
Tout autour de toi, vite, vite,
il vient, s'en va, puis il revient ...
tu crois le tenir, il t'évite,
tu crois l'éviter, il te tient.
L'amour! L'amour! L'amour! L'amour!
L'amour est enfant de Bohème,
il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi;
si tu ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime:
si je t'aime, prends garde à toi! (x2)


When will I love you?
Good Lord, I don't know,
Maybe never, maybe tomorrow.
But not today, that's for sure.
Love is a rebellious bird
that nobody can tame,
and you call him quite in vain
if it suits him not to come.
Nothing helps, neither threat nor prayer.
One man talks well, the other keeps silent;
it's the other one that I prefer.
He said nothing, but I like him.
Love! Love! Love! Love!
Love is a gypsy's child,
it has never, ever, recognized the law;
if you love me not, then I love you;
if I love you, you'd best beware!
if you love me not,
if you love me not, then I love you;
but if I love you,
if I love you, you'd best beware!
if you love me not,
if you love me not, then I love you;
but if I love you,
if I love you, you'd best beware!
The bird you thought you had caught
beat its wings and flew away ...
love stays away, you wait and wait;
when least expected, there it is!
All around you, swift, swift,
it comes, goes, then it returns ...
you think you hold it fast, it flees
you think you're free, it holds you fast.
Love! Love! Love! Love!
Love is a gypsy child,
it has never, ever, known law;
if you love me not, then I love you;
if I love you, you'd best beware!

China girl


"Mezameru maeni" 目覚める前に before you awake
oil and graphite on wood 30"x30"
"Hajimari"@Jonathan Levine Gallery in NY
2009
Audrey Kawasaki

strange welcoming light



Há alguns anos vi uma exposição com os últimos trabalhos de Maria Helena Vieira da Silva e nunca mais me saíu da cabeça, uma aguarela (acho eu) na qual uma figura parecia encaminhar-se para um limiar, onde uma luz verde a aguardava...

Several years ago I saw an exibithion of the last works of painter Maria Helena Vieira da Silva and there was one I could never forget : a watercolor ( I think) of a frail figure moving towards a threshold where a green light awaited.

Action !




slow




The artist has died




come sunday




the hours



Hear, hear : Alex Ross marvellous book "The rest is noise" changed forever my view in XX century's music. Please take a peak, also in www.therestisnoise.com

Monday, February 22, 2010

counterpoint

I Am in Need of Music

I Am in Need of Music

I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling fingertips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!

There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.

Elizabeth Bishop

Andy Warhol





Flowers






More here