Seguidores

sexta-feira, 28 de agosto de 2015

Li Bai (701-762)




Amidst the flowers a jug of wine, 
I pour alone lacking companionship. 
So raising the cup I invite the Moon, 
Then turn to my shadow which makes three of us. 
Because the Moon does not know how to drink, 
My shadow merely follows the movement of my body. 
The moon has brought the shadow to keep me company a while, 
The practice of mirth should keep pace with spring. 
I start a song and the moon begins to reel, 
I rise and dance and the shadow moves grotesquely. 
While I'm still conscious let's rejoice with one another, 
After I'm drunk let each one go his way. 
Let us bind ourselves for ever for passionless journeyings. 
Let us swear to meet again far in the Milky Way.

by Li Po

quinta-feira, 27 de agosto de 2015

Fragmento



Sou do tempo que ninguém tinha dinheiro ...
Hoje todo mundo acha que tem ...
Vários Cartões de Crédito ...
Contas bancárias sem limites para o caminho da Forca !
E vamos nos endividando prazerosamente. 
Achamos que tudo podemos com a matéria que nos conforta.
Porém em algum momento se percebe que a melhor quantidade é o suficiente!

quarta-feira, 26 de agosto de 2015

Antonio López García



By 1957 his work had registered a certain surreal quality. Figures and objects appear to float in space and his pictures are populated by images removed from their contexts. The fantastic vein remains at least until 1964.

During this period Antonio López shows an increasing interest in the representation of objects, independent of their contained narrative load. Magic Realism continued to inform his work through the mid-1960s, but gradually, as he said, "the physical world gained more prestige in my eyes." In fact he had never abandoned it. The 1959 oil Francisco Carretero and A. López García Talking, like many portraits and townscapes of this period, is devoid of surrealistic devices. So are Autumn(1961) and The Sea (1961–70). Some of his relief sculptures conjure fantastic episodes, such as The Apparition(1963), in which a child hovers mid-air against a wall, gliding toward an open door. There are many affinities with the Tuscan Renaissance in his work in three dimensions. The ethereal Head of Carmencita (1965–68), for example, might at first glance be taken for a quattrocento Florentine bronze by Desiderio da Settignano. García's painting also reverberates with the art of the past. The Grapevine (1960) evokes Tiepolo's sunlight, The Quince Tree(1962) Chardin's dusky murk, and other paintings echo Old Masters from Dürerto Degas.

Woman in the bathtub, oil on canvas, 1968 by Antonio López Garcia,

The beauty of López García's work begins with an appreciation of his craft. Paintings such as The Sideboard (1965–66), or the atmospheric views of Madrid from the 1970s show an acute perception and understanding of the beauty of the objects he portrays.

Though López García is devoted to the mundane—he depicts humble people, buildings, plants, and cluttered interiors—his portrayal of these subjects is compelling and beautiful. Starkly lit studies of his studio, bathroom, and the red brick wall in his backyard underscore an interest in prosaic subject matter. His deftness brings attention to these simple forms, encouraging the viewer to re-examine the presence of ordinary objects.

He began to paint panoramic views of Madrid about 1960. His work from this period attracted recognition, first within Spain—in 1961 he had his first solo show in Madrid—and later, in 1965 and 1968, at the Staempfli Gallery in New York. López García faithfully adhered to familiar subjects: images of women, anonymous and humble objects of domestic surroundings, desolate spaces, images of his garden and landscape. The pictures are sometimes worked on for more than twenty years, some of them remaining unfinished.

As the artist explains, "the pictorial nucleus begins to grow and you work until the whole surface has an expressive intensity equivalent to what you have before you, converted into a pictorial reality."

He is a versatile realist, proficient in the traditional media of pencil drawing, oil painting on board, carved wood sculpture, and bas relief in plaster.

terça-feira, 25 de agosto de 2015

Derek Walcott





MIDSUMMER, TOBAGO 


Broad sun-stoned beaches. 

White heat. 
A green river. 

A bridge, 
scorched yellow palms 

from the summer-sleeping house 
drowsing through August. 

Days I have held, 
days I have lost, 

days that outgrow, like daughters, 
my harbouring arms.

by Derek Walcott

segunda-feira, 24 de agosto de 2015

Derek Walcott


A City's Death By Fire


   After that hot gospeller has levelled all but the churched sky, 

I wrote the tale by tallow of a city's death by fire; 
Under a candle's eye, that smoked in tears, I 
Wanted to tell, in more than wax, of faiths that were snapped like wire. 
All day I walked abroad among the rubbled tales, 
Shocked at each wall that stood on the street like a liar; 
Loud was the bird-rocked sky, and all the clouds were bales 
Torn open by looting, and white, in spite of the fire. 
By the smoking sea, where Christ walked, I asked, why 
Should a man wax tears, when his wooden world fails? 
In town, leaves were paper, but the hills were a flock of faiths; 
To a boy who walked all day, each leaf was a green breath 
Rebuilding a love I thought was dead as nails, 
Blessing the death and the baptism by fire.

by Derek Walcott




sábado, 22 de agosto de 2015

Books 4/2015




41.
Michelangelo Buonarroti
Canzoniere
Fondazione Pietro Bembo / Ugo Guanda Editore

42.
Scrittori Toscani Contemporanei 
Antologia a Cura di Luigi Carluccio 
Stamperia Alberto Tallone, 1970

43.
Giovanni Papini
Ritratti Stranieri (1908-1921)
Volume XI
Vallecchi Editore

44.
Poemas Portugueses 
Portugiesische Gedichte
Deutsche Taschenbuch Verlag
DTV

45.
Sérgio Couri
Timbós
Editora 7 Letras

46.
Jean Jullien
Ralf 
Carlsen Verlag 

47.
Hervé Tullet
Farben Buch
Christophorus Verlag 

48.
Birgit Kleber
Photographers 
Jovis Verlag

49.
Beat Presser
Thau 
Moser Verlag 

50.
Scrittori Pugliesi e Lucani Contemporanei 
Antologia a Cura di Mario Stefanile 
Stamperia Alberto Tallone, 1976

51.
Olivier Tallec
Ludwig I. König der Schafe
Übersetzung: Thomas Bodmer 
NordSüd Verlag

52.
Sheila Rock 
tough & tender
Kehrer Verlag


53.
Alice Melvin
Emma kauft ein
Verlag Antje Kunstmann






sexta-feira, 21 de agosto de 2015

WENN - RUDYARD KIPLING





Wenn

Rudyard Kipling "If" 


(deutsche Übersetzung von Anja Hauptmann)


Wenn du den Kopf behältst und alle anderen
verlieren ihn und sagen: Du bist schuld!
Wenn keiner dir mehr glaubt, nur du vertraust dir
und du erträgst ihr Misstrauen in Geduld
.
Und wenn du warten kannst und wirst nicht müde
und die dich hassen dennoch weiter liebst,
die dich belügen strafst du nicht mit Lüge
und dich trotz Weisheit nicht zu weise gibst
.
Wenn du dich nicht verlierst in deinen Träumen
und du nicht ziellos wirst in deinem Geist
wenn du Triumph und Niederlage hinnimmst,
beide Betrüger gleich willkommen heißt
.
Wenn du die Worte die du mal gesprochen
aus Narrenmäulern umgedreht vernimmst
und siehst dein Lebenswerk vor dir zerbrochen
und niederkniest, wenn du es neu beginnst
.
Setzt du deinen Gewinn auf eine Karte
und bist nicht traurig, wenn du ihn verlierst
und du beginnst noch einmal ganz von vorne
und sagst kein Wort was du dabei riskierst
.
Wenn du dein Herz bezwingst und alle Sinne
nur das zu tun was du von dir verlangst
auch wenn du glaubst es gibt nicht mehr da drinnen
außer dem Willen der dir sagt: Du kannst!
.
Wenn dich die Menge liebt und du noch du bleibst
wenn du den König und den Bettler ehrst
wenn dich nicht Feind noch Freund verletzen können
und du die Hilfe niemanden verwehrst
.
Wenn du in unverzeihlicher Minute
Sechzig Sekunden lang verzeihen kannst:
Dein ist die Welt - und alles was darin ist
Und was noch mehr ist - dann bist du ein Mensch!

quinta-feira, 20 de agosto de 2015

DEREK WALCOTT





Dark August 
So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky
of this black August. My sister, the sun,
broods in her yellow room and won’t come out.
Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume
like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,
she will not rise and turn off the rain.
She’s in her room, fondling old things,
my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls
like a crash of plates from the sky,
she does not come out.
Don’t you know I love you but am hopeless
at fixing the rain? But I am learning slowly
to love the dark days, the steaming hills,
the air with gossiping mosquitoes,
and to sip the medicine of bitterness,
so that when you emerge, my sister,
parting the beads of the rain,
with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,
all will not be as it was, but it will be true
(you see they will not let me love
as I want), because, my sister, then
I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,
the black rain, the white hills, when once
I loved only my happiness and you.

quarta-feira, 19 de agosto de 2015

Stefano 4



Stefano se perguntava  ...

Como vou dormir com uma pessoa que tem uma caveira no braço ?

E se respondia 

- Acho que vou dormir até mais rápido ...

- De medo  !

terça-feira, 18 de agosto de 2015

FRAGMENTO XVII



Esperei três dias ... 
Todos me disseram :
- Você deve esperar mais !

Esperei um mês ...
Alguns me disseram :
- Já esperou o suficiente !

Esperei um Ano ...
Pouquíssimos me perguntaram :
- É tão importante assim ?

Parei de esperar ...
Ninguém perguntou :
- E aí conseguiu ?

Marco Coiatelli
16 - VIII - 15