to be german(1)

Link here for the artist biography

Reason

“Reason is like an open secret that can become known to anyone at any time; it is the quiet space into which everyone can enter through his own thought”
Karl Jaspers

"Só alcançamos a verdade do nosso pensamento quando incansávelmente nos esforçamos por pensar colocando-nos no lugar de qualquer outro.É preciso conhecer o que é possível ao homem.Se tentamos pensar sériamente aquilo que outrem pensou aumentamos as possibilidades da nossa própria verdade, mesmo que nos recusemos a esse outro pensamento.Só ousando integrar-nos totalmente nele o podemos conhecer.O mais remoto e estranho,o mais excessivo e excepcional,mesmo o aberrativo,incitam-nos a não passar ao largo da verdade por omissão de algo de original, por cegueira ou por lapso."
Karl Jaspers in "Iniciação Filosófica"
(dádiva de um amigo desconhecido)

I mean no harm

Dancers

Saw a cat jump today -
he measured the distance to cover, taking his time
then jumped with ease, stopped in midair and softly landed,
where he intended to.
Perfect balance.

Everything, everyone has its balance
You shouldn’t mess up, with anything or anyone’s
Balance.
You never know what will happen next.

over the clouds

Woods people

I love trees and moss,
to walk the silent woods, looking for the geometry of everything.
It's like being away, feeling home neverthless.

I do miss people and its works,
Blood veins, flesh and skin
Wonders of the heart, inflamable souls. Minds bigger than woods.

let's turn Manhattan into an island of joy

It was about time I posted some more Ella...

two shops

There’s this street, near my job with two shops I love :
one sells books - some music on cd and films on dvd, too
Facing it, the other shop sells flowers.
(I quite don’t know which one I like better.)

Well, in this bookshop, you are free to browse the books,
People are friendly and nice, you can sit awhile there
listen to some music, even have a coffee…
No strings attached, it’s urban and modern, civil.
The florist, I just peer at, from the outside,
They left the woodwork of the building to show
painted it in pastel colors, everything seems so nice,
out of place in the middle of the city, like in a dream
also they don’t keep the usual flowers, florists use to have here :
industrial roses, look alike gerberias, colored clones all…
They have wild flowers, a variety of tree leafs and much greenery
you think of the countryside, of things tamed and wild
but mostly good.
(I think I like this shop better.)

power and poise

I guess that with great power comes poise. You have to give great speeches, to motivate a nation, sometimes you even try to be global, to address the whole World.
You may be a Nobel prize winner, but you still have to lead the businesses of war - the business of war. It comes with the territory, this power was given you for the general good, and for the general good you deploy troops, you set a date for the coming home, the only outcome possible : a victory - because that will be the common good.
And you keep your poise.

Guess we all should keep our poise, because we are entitled to have a say in defining the common good. We decide if we still allow places where women aren't citizens and girls can't go to school, we decide if we still allow places where they can maim you, because you steal, or kill you in a barbaric fashion because you're accused of adultery.
We decide if we should consider great powers, nations where people aren’t free to voice their opinions, we decide the millions who starve, the millions who don’t have homes, because everything we do contributes to that. Our leaders decide that, they decide how materials are valued, how skills are paid or they chose to let others decide that for them, all of us decide to believe in immaterial things : the market, the market laws, the deficits, the black swans.
We should all keep our poise. We decide what’s the common good. We deploy the troops. We even are the humans in the field.

Go to Frankfurt

A true feast : Boticelli

why do some artists make the canon and others don't ?

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In 1887 Frantisek Kupka began training as an artist at the Prague academy under Frantisek Sequens, who had been strongly influenced by the Nazarener School. In 1891 the artist transfered to the academy in Vienna, where he worked under Professor Eisenmenger until 1893. In 1894 Kupka travelled to London and Skandinavia, after which he settled in Paris in 1895. Just like Lyonel Feininger and Marcel Duchamp, Kupka started off as caricaturist and drawer. He made fashion designs, drafts for posters, illustrations for books and various satirical magazines. In 1905 Kupka moved to Puteaux in the suburbs, where he got acquainted with Jacques Villon, who introduced him to a circle of painters in 1910/11,including Marcel Duchamp, Robert Delaunay, Fernand Léger, Francis Picabia and others. They discussed the problems of form encountered by Cubism and Futurism as well as the connections between painting and music. Kupka's works underwent a decisive development: He became the first artist in France to move from Jugendstil to Abstraction. The acceptance of the ornament as an independent element of Jugendstil lead him to the final abandonment of the natural form. The group around Villon, who called themselves 'Section d'Or', had their first exhibition at the Paris autumn salon in 1912. Kupka exhibited his abstract pictures here, which are associated with Orphism because of their proximity to music. In 1914 he voluntarily enrolled for front-line duty at the Somme. In 1918 Frantisek Kupka accepted a post as guest professor in Prague and in 1931 he co-founded the group 'Abstraction-Création' with Hans Arp, Jean Hélion, Auguste Herbin, Georges Valmier and Georges Vantongerloo, becoming a member of the group's board. This time was also marked by important exhibitions at the 'Jeu de Paume' museum in Paris. Franisek Kupka spent the Second World War in Beaugency, returning to Puteaux immediately after the liberation. In 1946 at the occasion of his 75th birthday the artist's first major retrospective was shown in Prague. In 1955 Kupka participated in documenta I in Kassel. Kupka died in Puteaux on July 21, 1957. A year later a large-scale retrospective exhibition took place at the 'Musée d'Art Moderne' in Paris, which dedicated an entire room to Frantisek Kupka.

Things change

El Perro Semi-Hundido (1820),
Goya

Things change, things change all the time
Unnoticed, unannounced change comes to you
That’s the nature of things.

You enter this room, there’s a very bright light, white walls
A nice gentleman greets you gently, invites you to have a sit
You both go over images of the inside of your body, he’ll explain things to you
Everything will be fine. Everything always works out fine in the end.
Just you be reasonable – things change,
Just you accept it.

and now for something completely diferent...

READ THIS

young madonna at the train station

You come into the station's waiting room
with a gust of wind and a daze of water,
sit quietly by the door, you took your time to compose yourself
then and only then you lift your head, you screened the room...
Oh, it was only me, plus two old ladies on the other corner,
no one that might interest you,
your gaze turned inside, inside just like that.

Oh, but I couldn't resist admiring you for a while,
you with the most perfect lips, reminding me of strawberries
now that is high Winter, a feeling of the ripeness of Summer
Oh, I envy the one who is going to drink from those perfect lips,
Young Madonna.

The odd man out

The goal keeper is the oddity in a football team : it’s the only player that during the game can use all of his body, including his hands to play, also he’s the only one that during a game, spends most of his time confined to a delimited zone of the pitch, the penalty area. Like the goal he defends, he is somehow a target himself.
I used to play football all the time and there was always something in the goalie that strike him as a different breed from the rest of us - a different kind not only of player, but also of person. He could be either the craziest on the bunch, or the coolest of us all, the wise man or the joker…no middle ground for this guys.

…..xxx…..

Pain is a big, dark wall that imposes itself between you and the world.
You’re a small vehicle going through a starless night in hostile country. One thing you’re sure of - you got leave there soon.
Looking for comfort, that’s all you can think of.

…..xxx…..

You are alone in the goal area and a big guy is coming fast at you, you’re pretty sure he’s going to strike the ball at you with all his might, somehow you try to get his eyes, you make yourself bigger, you try to look huge, hide the goal from his sight, your body is all he can see, you even use a strident colored sweater as to attract attention…you do your best, but he has the ball and he is free from pressure, he’s an experienced guy, he knows he can beat you…
He’s a young one, he’s quick but he’s overjoyed and he believes in his soul that free from the defenders, he has just to quick hard to get the ball through you…
You get the ball, you saved a certain goal…you don’t get the ball, the guy scored, either way he’s the one making the news later, on account of his skill or his lack of it, you’re just not news.
Well, you can get into the news, if you do manage to get badly injured, for instance having your skull bone kicked in by an over rushed, over roused striker…

…..xxx…..

Some things you can’t share, some things you just can say out loud, you keep them to yourself, bury them inside your heart. You’re one of the guys, you can follow them everywhere you have to go, you even have the guts to lead them - when they’re feeling down, when they’re beat and conceding defeat, you shout at them : “Go on you punks, you motherfuckers, show them you have balls, we can do it…we can do it, just you help me.” and you kick the ball deep into the other team’s defense.
You play along, but there’s this cloud inside you, sometimes you even lose track of the game : “- Jesus, how did they get here so fast ?”.

…..xxx…..


A goalie is ready to die any day, he has to stand still over the goal line and wait for the penalty. He has to let go, take a deep breath go into the net, grab the ball kick it away…the game is not over, it will start again, till you lose the will to play.

…..xxx…..

Robert Enke (24 August 1977 — 10 November 2009 was a German football goalkeeper.

Enke played at leading clubs in several European countries, namely Barcelona, Benfica and Fenerbahçe, but made the majority of his appearances for Bundesliga side Hannover 96 in his homeland.

He won eight full international caps for the German national team between 2007 and his death in 2009, and was part of the squad which finished as runners-up in Euro 2008. At the time of his death, he was widely considered to be a leading contender for the German number one spot at the 2010 World Cup.

On the 10 November 2009, Enke committed suicide by leaping in front of a train.

the golden age of spanish painting

If you can, read this, please

Nubes de un cielo que no cambia

"Algún día seré el guardián / de tus paisajes desaparecidos, / en la fiesta de pétalos, / de luz / en los orgasmos que no vivo".

Oda

Oda a la cebolla

Cebolla,
luminosa redoma,
pétalo a pétalo
se formó tu hermosura,
escamas de cristal te acrecentaron
y en el secreto de la tierra oscura
se redondeó tu vientre de rocío.
Bajo la tierra
fue el milagro
y cuando apareció
tu torpe tallo verde,
y nacieron
tus hojas como espadas en el huerto,
la tierra acumuló su poderío
mostrando tu desnuda transparencia,
y como en Afrodita el mar remoto
duplicó la magnolia
levantando sus senos,
la tierra
así te hizo,
cebolla,
clara como un planeta,
y destinada
a relucir,
constelación constante,
redonda rosa de agua,
sobre
la mesa
de las pobres gentes.

Generosa
deshaces
tu globo de frescura
en la consumación
ferviente de la olla,
y el jirón de cristal
al calor encendido del aceite
se transforma en rizada pluma de oro.

También recordaré cómo fecunda
tu influencia el amor de la ensalada
y parece que el cielo contribuye
dándote fina forma de granizo
a celebrar tu claridad picada
sobre los hemisferios de un tomate.
Pero al alcance
de las manos del pueblo,
regada con aceite,
espolvoreada
con un poco de sal,
matas el hambre,
del jornalero en el duro camino.
Estrella de los pobres,
hada madrina
envuelta
en delicado
papel, sales del suelo,
eterna, intacta, pura
como semilla de astro,
y al cortarte
el cuchillo en la cocina
sube la única lágrima
sin pena.
Nos hiciste llorar sin afligirnos.

Yo cuanto existe celebré, cebolla,
pero para mí eres
más hermosa que una ave
de plumas cegadoras,
eres para mis ojos
globo celeste, copa de platino,
baile inmóvil
de anémona nevada

y vive la fragancia de la tierra
en tu naturaleza cristalina.

De Odas elementales (1954) - Pablo Neruda

blow it open

Postscript


And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightening of flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park or capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open

Mama !