C.S. Lewis, the Narnia author and theologian, put forth the argument that logically, Christ must have been divine.  If He weren’t divine, then He was either lying or insane.  Those are our only choices.  If you don’t believe in Christ’s divinity, do you believe one of the other options is true?  Lewis called this the trilemma.

Whether or not you accept the premise, it is thought-provoking.  Is it thought-provoking enough to weave a story around?  I have a few children’s author friends who stop by here—how would they build a plot around Lewis’ argument?

First, you need an Everyman character—someone who could be influenced to believe or not believe.  Add two more characters:  one advocating for belief in His divinity, one against.  Then add Christ Himself to the mix.  Let’s set the story in the here-and-now.

Christ appears on the scene; some people believe in Him, some don’t.  Of those who don’t, some think He’s insane, and subject Him to psychoanalysis, and finally have Him committed.

Christ gets out of the insane asylum, but now He needs to prove He’s not lying—in a court of law.  His lawyer doesn’t actually succeed in proving His divinity—because there never can be such proof—but he does show that so many people do believe that there must be something to it.  That’s the best any of us can do.  That’s the nature of faith.

What a great plot!  Of course it’s the story of Miracle on 34^th Street.  Santa Claus (Edmund Gwenn) stands in for Christ; the little girl (Natalie Wood) is Everyman; her mom (Maureen O’Hara who scorches the screen even in black and white) is a militant disbeliever; John Payne is a lawyer who literally advocates for belief in Santa.  Santa is psychoanalyzed, committed, and put on trial.  He’s either insane, lying—or he really is Santa Claus.

What does this have to do with a kids’ book illustration blog?  Well, this is what we kids’ book illustrators do.  Whenever I get a new manuscript to work on, it’s my job to scrutinize the story on more than one level.  Many of the stories I get won’t stand up to too much analysis; they’re meant simply to entertain.  But every story began with the germ of an idea.  If I can discern that original idea by thoroughly analyzing the story, I’ll do a better job of illustrating the book.

On the other end of the spiritual spectrum—believe it or not, I’m currently working on a children’s story that I’m pretty sure is the author’s retelling of Doctor Faustus.  Even if the author didn’t intentionally base her story on Marlowe’s masterpiece, the plot construction is so similar to Faustus that Faustus informs my visual interpretation of it.  No, no devils, no Hieronymus Bosch, but there’s a character in this story who was about to get cut—and I argued for her to stay, since she would be Helen of Troy in Doctor Faustus.  If I hadn’t read the play, I wouldn’t have realized her importance to this new story.

the story goes that hieronymus bosch was a member of the adamites sect, heretical, obsessed with the fleshier temptations, but one where cock and cunt were free from sin. they sought a world of guiltless sex, of euphoric screwing, of blissful fucking, of carefree boning. you get the slightly soiled picture, non? so his garden of earthly delights triptych (see where i’m going with this…) could be read not as a warning against the pursuit of sloppy pleasure but as a vision of earthly heaven. not so much a narrative of innocence, temptation and the hellbound fall due to those saucy bloody women and their lovely soft bits, but a celebration of the simple joy of amorous fondling and ejaculatory joy.

all of which quite accurately encompasses the eruptive glee of the new lightning bolt album. *

for all the talk of chaos that surrounds lightning bolt there’s an element of almost sensually tight control that runs through the core of their gay abandon.  as utterly gurning deranged as they are live (and slightly less so on record) it takes some degree of restraint to focus this level of intensity and yes dammit virtuosity and not have it sound a complete masturbatory mess.  as established previously lightning bolt are all about the coitus not the onanistic.  not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with this, but it’s for other buggers to (self)indulge in.

whilst not exactly a progression to verse chorus verse pop structure this is a kindof refined and polished gem compared to say wonderful rainbow’s lump of bonkers coal.  i’ll stress again this sure as heck ain’t pet shop boys territory we’re in.  just that they’ve added a touch more diversity, a touch of light and shade, some subtle changes to their face-fucking battery technique.

so the template’s still in place.  the bass.  the three drums.  the distorto-chatter.  the hypno-riffing.  nation of boar and s.o.s. hold no truck with progression.  this shit is primitive and regressive, the unrelenting noise of two guys called brian engaged in old school sweatsoaked instro-destruction.

but there’s wonky melody creeping around the proceedings like some schneaky seedy peeper opposite a girls school.  see rain on lake i’m swimming in with its monged nursery rhyme kids tv theme shenanigans.  or the middle east twang that molests yr ears suddenly unexpectedly on a few tracks, exemplified by the rolling stones paint it black / nirvana breed / omar souleyman dabke thrashmagoria of the sublime freak.  add to this heady brew some slidey blooze on the monstrous dayglo om-esque colossus (one of the best things they’ve recorded) or country boogie twang on funny farm and frankly you have nothing short of deconstructed musical mentalism.  but what wonderful deconstructed musical mentalism it is.  one that pounds on you remorselessly while gently tickling those bits you like tickled.

christ i need a cigarette…

myspace / lightning bolt / load records

* that said from what i remember musicians were being raped and tortured and eaten in the final hell-panel of boschs painting….

Jacob’s Ladder is a 1990 psychological thriller / horror film directed by Adrian Lyne, based on a screenplay by Bruce Joel Rubin. It stars Tim Robbins, Elizabeth Peña, Danny Aiello, and Jason Alexander. Actor Macaulay Culkin appears in an uncredited performance.

Tagline:  The most frightening thing about Jacob Singer’s nightmare is that he isn’t dreaming.

Trivia:

• All SFX were filmed live, with no post-production. For example, to achieve the famous ’shaking head’ effect, director Adrian Lyne simply filmed the actor waving his head around (and keeping his shoulders and the rest of his body completely still) at 4fps, resulting in an incredibly fast and deeply disturbing motion when played back at the normal frame-rate of 24fps.
• The Bergen Street station in the film was actually an abandoned, lower level portion of the station, which had to be re-tiled and fixed to look as if it was still in working condition.
• All ads in the subway and Bergen Street station are anti-drug ads.
• According to the original script, the subway station Jacob arrives at in the beginning of the movie was supposed to be Nostrand Avenue – not Bergen Street.
• According to the original script, after Jacob is nearly run over by the subway train, a sequence involving a man being raped in the subway station mens bathroom was supposed to occur. It was filmed but deleted from the final cut (parts of the scene can be seen in the Making-Of featurette Building ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ (1990) (V)).
• Writer Bruce Joel Rubin wrote the script for Jacob’s Ladder in 1980 after he had a dream of being trapped in a subway. He spent ten years trying to get it produced, but the script remained languishing in developmental limbo. During this period, Rubin’s agent told him that the film would never be made as “Hollywood doesn’t make ghost movies”. After the Rubin scripted Ghost (1990) became a smash hit, coupled with the success of Alan Parker’s Angel Heart (1987), studios became more open to the possibilities of Rubin’s script. After taking on the role of director, Adrian Lyne spent over a year refining the script with writer Rubin.
• Adrian Lyne made sure Jacob and his visions never appear together in the same shot.
• The hospital gurney that carries Jacob was deliberately unbalanced by Adrian Lyne. He raised one wheel slightly off the floor, causing it to rattle and spin.
• The confrontation between Jacob and Geary originally takes place in a courtroom corridor. Lyne moved them to the stairs in order to downplay the height difference between Tim Robbins (who is 6′ 5″) and ‘Jason Alexander’ (who is 5′ 5″).
• Some additional scenes from the original script which were changed or removed by director Adrian Lyne: – During the dance scene, ALL the dancers turn into demons. – During one of his Vietnam flashbacks, Jacob has a vision of a “celestial staircase” accompanied by heavenly music. – Jacob watches a reverend on TV who rants about the world coming to an end. – Jacob sees an image of a demon on the wall of his living room, which, when he looks closely at it, becomes a portal to Hell. – A scene following the “antidote” sequence in which the ceiling explodes and Jacob is surrounded by a vision of Heaven. – A different ending, where Jezzie turns herself inside-out and transforms into a huge demon, which Jacob has to fight before ascending to heaven.
• The closing legend of the film mentions the testing of a drug named BZ in Vietnam. BZ is NATO code for a hallucinogen called 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, which was rumored to have been administered to US troops during the Vietnam War in an attempt to increase their combat abilities.
• After initial test audiences reported that the film was overwhelming, director Adrian Lyne cut out almost thirty minutes of material, almost all of which came from the last third of the film. Four major sequences were removed after Jacob (Tim Robbins) first meets Michael (Matt Craven); a scene where Michael gives him an antidote for the Ladder, a scene where Jacob thinks he is cured but turns out not to be; a scene where he goes to Michael’s apartment and finds Michael decapitated; and a scene just prior to his final meeting with Gabe (Macaulay Culkin), where he meets Jezzie (Elizabeth Peña), who shows her true form.
• For all of the chiropractor scenes, director Adrian Lyne ensured there was a real chiropractor on-set, who would work with actor Danny Aiello so as to ensure authenticity. According to Lyne, chiropractors often approach him and thank him for going to the trouble of getting what they do exactly right.
• According to director Adrian Lyne, most of the dialogue in the opening scene between the soldiers was improvised on set by the actors themselves, especially the conversation between George (Ving Rhames) and Jacob (Tim Robbins) about masturbation.
• Prior to the commencement of filming, former US marine Dale Dye took actors Tim Robbins, Pruitt Taylor Vince, Eriq La Salle, Ving Rhames, Brian Tarantina, Brent Hinkley and Anthony Alessandro to a 5-day military boot camp.
• Adrian Lyne also heavily rewrote the scene involving the biblical Jacob’s ladder at the end of the film. Writer Bruce Joel Rubin had written the scene to involve a massive staircase ascending into the clouds, with crowds of people lining it, towering columns, and huge gates at the summit. Again however, Lyne felt that such an image could come across as preposterous (he refers to Rubin’s original conception as the Liberace scene’ on the DVD commentary track). As such, Lyne rewrote the scene to involve simply the staircase in Jacob’s house, basing this on the principal that heaven is wherever you were happiest.
• In the original screenplay, writer Bruce Joel Rubin had created a typical Biblical hell, complete with winged demons, cloven hoofed devils with horns, people with beaks and strange objects lying randomly around (director Adrian Lyne likens Rubin’s vision to the work of Hieronymus Bosch). As with Rubin’s general depiction of demons however, Lyne felt that such scenes could very easily make an audience laugh. As such, he decided to rewrite the scene of Jacob’s descent into hell; ultimately coming up with the hospital sequence where Jacob is wheeled on a gurney into a metaphorical hell which becomes more and more grotesque as he moves.
• In Bruce Joel Rubin’s original screenplay, all of the demons who appear throughout the film were typical biblical demons with horns, wings, cloven hooves etc. Director Adrian Lyne felt that this kind of imagery could very easily come across as comic, which would destroy the film. He felt that the fact that the imagery was so far from human lessened its impact, and as such, he decided he wanted the demons to be humanesque, but not quite human. During his research into this (which was when he discovered the photography of Joel-Peter Witkin), Lyne came across the Thalidomide scandal. Thalidomide was a drug made available for purchase from 1957 to 1961. Ostensibly, it was designed to treat pregnant women; primarily as an antiemetic to combat morning sickness, and secondarily as a sleeping aid. However, prior to its release, inadequate clinical tests were carried out, leading to roughly 10,000 children in Africa and Europe being born with severe physical deformities because their mothers had taken thalidomide during their pregnancy. The most common defects were phocomelia, dysmelia, amelia and polymelia; all conditions which affect the appearance of the limbs. During his research, Lyne studied the Thalidomide case, and came to feel that the birth defects caused by the drug represented the perfect starting place for his redesign of Rubin’s demons. The Thalidomide scandal was also the inspiration for David Cronenberg’s Scanners (1981).
• According to director Adrian Lyne, the drug aspect of the story was inspired by the Martin Lee and Bruce Shlain book, “Acid Dreams: The CIA, LSD and Sixties Rebellion”.
• Director Adrian Lyne used the art of painters William Blake, H.R. Giger, and Francis Bacon and photographers Diane Arbus and Joel-Peter Witkin as his primary influences for the visual style of the film.
• The film was green-lit by Paramount Pictures (with whom Adrian Lyne had made both Flashdance (1983) and Fatal Attraction (1987), and with whom writer Bruce Joel Rubin had made Ghost (1990)), but there was a change of leadership in the studio and the new executives were unsure of the film. They demanded that the end of the movie be changed, but both Lyne and Rubin refused, and so Paramount pulled the plug on the film. It appeared as if the project was going to have to be completely abandoned until Mario Kassar and Andrew G. Vajna of Carolco Pictures saved it with a budget of $25 million. They also gave Lyne complete creative control as well as final cut of the film.
• In an ironic reversal, Adrian Lyne turned down directorial duties on The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990) so he could direct Jacob’s Ladder. His first choice for the role of Jacob Singer was Tom Hanks, but Hanks turned down the film so he could make The Bonfire of the Vanities (1990).
• According to writer Bruce Joel Rubin, the script was heavily inspired by the Bardo Thodol (The Tibetan Book of the Dead), the biblical story of Jacob’s ladder and Robert Enrico’s Oscar-winning short film La rivière du hibou (1962), based on the 1890 Ambrose Bierce short story ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge’, in which much of the narrative is a man’s experience of an imagined life in the spilt second before he dies.
• Actors who were allegedly interested in playing the leading role of Jacob Singer included Dustin Hoffman, Al Pacino and Richard Gere. For the role of Jezzie, director Adrian Lyne auditioned roughly 300 women, including Julia Roberts, Andie MacDowell, Madonna and Jennifer Lopez. The role eventually went to the very first person who auditioned – Elizabeth Peña.
• Sidney Lumet, Michael Apted and Ridley Scott all tried to get the project green-lit during its ten-year period of non-production.
• Don Johnson and Mickey Rourke both turned down the lead role.

Amazon Specials!

Tonight – still need to brush my teeth again, but will I? Was thinking of making some tea – yes – I think I will…(make some tea.)

The water will be boiling soon. Who or what am I then? Thinking about how wildly differing people’s impressions and ideas about other people are.

Two emotions? Sick and ashamed. How do you feel? Sick and ashamed.

A garden a wall light

Posterity? If I i? was writing for – but what am I writing for? This is something that no other person will likely read. I don’t even know what I think about anything – other than it all seems completely meaningless. I find myself to be angry/ moody – working in the restaurant seems to have taken over my life – become my one reality – before this summer I had another life – a multiplicity of realities here in Santa Fe – an existence very separate from work – but now – living with a fellow employee has narrowed the focus – brought more of the restaurant home? Is this home – what place?

Perhaps this (change of subject, from work to home) is like living in England. I chose this room based somewhat on that experience asking “What do I want to re-live?” The pictures now on my mirror – Tamara de Lempicka, Hieronymus Bosch – are the same – I have not seen these hanging in a room since England.

But some of the images are older – and I have not seen them since Flagstaff – from my dormitory room at NAU – Brian Froud and the pin-up book pictures – postcards – cut out pages of books – past pages.

I know that I must write – but the reason is not easily put into words – it seems I have just stumbled across a reason, or a confirmation: Yes – this is good. This must be done.

I am looking forward to sleeping – sleep – dreaming long and deep, moving through worlds free from this world. Perhaps in the morning I will write my dreams down – if I remember them.

Afraid to have a good thought – to smile, breath a sigh of relief, joy – afraid to be happy – lest this brings a new disaster crashing down  – or – I know that I’m not real, that I very rarely exist – that the things I do and say aren’t me – sometimes have nothing to do with me, but this writing perhaps is slightly more valuable than what I say in a conversation or how I act at work because it is mine – it’s for me and no one else. I am striving for accuracy at times (at others only writing quickly from the fast-flowing and unconsidered) – but – in this setting there is time and there is room to explore – to risk – to re-work and think out complications, to let go and write of anything – because I need not be afraid – to touch that realm where I spend the majority of my time – below the surface – becomes the surface and the outside disappears.

Sarà perché Hieronymus Bosch e Salvador Dalì sono due degli artisti che amo di più: certo è che la campagna firmata da DDB Berlin per Polo BlueMotion, macchina “dai consumi assurdamente bassi”, è tra le più originali che mi sia mai capitato di vedere.

The Apprentice

Perchè parlare di figure retoriche? e perchè proprio dell’accumulazione?
Provo a rispondere partendo au contraire, dall’opposto dell’accumulazione: la sottrazione.
“Un buon scrittore non deve mai spiegare..” diceva Ennio Flaiano.
E’ opinione diffusa e condivisa che il lavoro dello scrittore debba essere di sottrazione. Il non detto ha fascino, ed è efficace, a condizione che quello che si omette sia conosciuto e dominato dall’autore. Altrimenti ciò che è fuori dal testo resta anche fuori dalla comprensione del lettore.
Fior di scrittori hanno raggiunto grandiosi risultati utilizzando le figure retoriche che rientrano nel gruppo della sottrazione. Tanto per gradire, un piccolo esempio, tratto dal romanzo d’esordio di Davide Longo, Un mattino a Irgalem:

“…su quel muretto sedevano due donne. Pietro riconobbe il turbante bianco che portavano. Le due lo guardarono per vedere se aveva capito. Vedendo che non si muoveva ripresero a parlare fra loro.
Pietro costeggiò il perimetro e sparì dentro uno dei vicoli bui. Dal suo ritorno in Africa era la prima volta che incontrava la lebbra.”

Bene, a questo punto vien da dire tutti a casa, vince la sottrazione e non se ne parli più.
Ma: siamo sicuri che il nostro debito verso la brevitas di tradizione classica sia frutto di reale condivisione piuttosto che di piatto e acritico adeguamento?
Troviamo comodo riparo nel mito di Laconia, dalla lingua allineata alla sobrietà guerriera e poco incline alle lungaggini di uno stile elegante, e invece: perché non si può (provare a) raggiungere lo stesso risultato della sottrazione partendo dall’altro capo del filo?
Per esempio, con la figura dell’accumulazione.

E’ in ottima compagnia, nel gruppo delle figure che normalmente sono definite di “amplificazione” o di “addizione”, ma è quella che più mi affascina, per il sommare elementi eterogenei che convogliano nell’imbuto di un messaggio unico e potente.
Non mi dilungo sulle indagini definitorie della figura dell’accumulazione, parente stretta, strettissima, dell’enumerazione, da cui però si distingue per la sommatoria di elementi eterogenei, mentre l’enumerazione accumula elementi riconducibili a un insieme semantico omogeneo.
Distinzione piuttosto impalpabile, ne convengo.
Più facile identificarla con gli esempi, con un breve excursus sull’utilizzo di questa figura in passato.
Sorvolerei sulla valenza simbolica dell’accumulazione nella letteratura barocca -per alcuni diventa simbolo di disordine ed eterogeneità, in contrapposizione all’unità armonica del divino-, perchè il barocco proprio non lo reggo.
Parliamo piuttosto dello spazio che questa figura ha conquistato nella letteratura del Novecento, a partire dallo stream of consciousness di joyciana memoria, con la riproduzione in ammasso di idee, emozioni, osservazioni e ricordi che si fondono in un unicum espressivo tanto efficace quanto più risulta destrutturato.
Superfluo esortare alla lettura di una qualunque pagina del monologo di Molly Bloom.

Tornando ai nostri lidi, non è male questo passaggio di Raffaele Nigro, dal romanzo Malvarosa:

“Sentirmi libero in una metropoli. Uno sull’altro, uomini lamiere e cemento, una salsa di depressioni, di carognate, contenti di fiatarci addosso, di calpestarci, di non conoscerci, di non sapere da dove vengono le code di auto e dove andranno…”

Qualche passo indietro, nell’Ottocento. Un piccolo stralcio da tale Lev Nikolaevic Tolstoj:

“Era un’enorme (da abbracciarsi in due uomini) pianta di quercia, coi rami troncati evidentemente già da gran tempo. Con le sue enormi, goffe, contorte braccia e dita, asimmetricamente divaricate, stava là come un vecchio, iroso, sprezzante mostro in mezzo alle sorridenti betulle. Soltanto quei morti, sempreverdi, piccoli abeti, sparpagliati fra il bosco, non volevano, d’accordo con la quercia, sottomettersi all’incantamento della primavera…” (da Guerra e Pace, parte terza, cap. I).

Last but non least, ecco Rimini, di Tondelli. E’ un romanzo zeppo di accumulazioni. Qui la nostra figura si fa cifra stilistica per descrivere il paesaggio umano e non della riviera romagnola, come nella rappresentazione del lungomare di Riccione:
La sequenza ordinata delle cabine –dipinte a blocchi con tonalità pastello- aveva in sé qualcosa di metafisico e infantile nello stesso tempo: come si trattasse di un paesaggio costruito per i giochi dei bambini –le casette, i tettucci, i lettini, gli oblò, le finestrelle, le tinte tenui, il rosa confetto, il verdolino, il celestino, l’arancio, il grigio-azzurro, il giallo limone, il viola pallido e altri colori di balocchi e zuccheri filati e frutte candite-…

Poi c’è il linguaggio iconico. Qui la figura dell’accumulazione è particolarmente efficace, spesso per illustrare le idee di accumulo caotico e di rottura di senso nella realtà. Campioni: l’arte allucinata di Hieronymus Bosch, o il brulicante mondo di Brueghel il Vecchio, come da esempio sopra riportato. A seguire, è un continuo ritorno dell’accumulazione.
Tralasciando il Barocco e il consumatissimo tema dell’horror vacui, si arriva all’era contemporanea, con le commistioni caotiche tipiche del Futurismo (esempi meno noti ma squisiti nelle opere di Corrado Govoni), fino alle esperienze più recenti del fotomontaggio. Non Warhol, per carità, che con l’accumulazione c’entra come una carota col cappuccino.

E in poesia? Qui ammetto la mia ignoranza, fortuna che vengono in soccorso Renata Morresi, che ricorda gli “elenchi” di Whitman, quelli di Ginsberg e Ferlinghetti, i veri e propri cumuli nei Cantos di Pound, e Roberto Plevano che suggerisce la Passeggiata di Palazzeschi.
Infine ecco questi versi dell’Ariosto, che mi propone Antonio Sparzani:
Né Pietà, né Quiete, né Umiltade,
né quivi Amor, né quivi Pace mira.
Ben vi fur già, ma ne l’antiqua etade;
che le cacciar Gola, Avarizia et Ira,
Superbia, Invidia, Inerzia e Crudeltade.
Di tanta novità l’angel si ammira:
andò guardando quella brutta schiera,
e vide ch’anco la Discordia v’era.
(Orlando Furioso, XIV, str. 81)

Esemplari.

When someone starts picturing something unusual we say ”oh, what an imagination”. Imagination is what is commonly known as creation of images or ideas that have not existed before. 

In my personal opinion there is no such a thing as imagination: I belive that everything already exists somehow somewhere…I can back up this idea either with Socrates’s Allegory of The Cave  or with the modern string theory -no matter what I take, it is obvious to me that there is noting in the world that has not been existing somewhere yet.

Let’s take horror films,  all these dreadful images are nothing else than already existing beings. They definitely exist in our collective subconscious (the prove is that in many different cultures these images are similar), and the collective subconscious is a reality. This reality hunts us in our dreams or drunkard/under drugs state. And this is not imagination, this is pretty real. A good example – Hieronymus Bosch. or just any horror film

The futuristic images are also real – they pop up from our collective supraconsious, which is another interesting realm.

When we say an artist has a great imagination, we are speaking about a person with a strong connection to one of these spheres (Subconscious or Supraconsious) where he/she literary sees these beings or these “worlds” and thus brings it out to our “reality”.

Only very few artists have access to the so called Superconsious, which is the essence of all things, like the Plato’ s World of Ideas, the ideal world, the true one. Such images (William Blake) are extremely powerful and inspiring, whilst the ones from Subconscious or Supraconsious are somewhat sly and sticky…

Thus, there is nothing to imagine for everything already exists. Imagination is not about inventing. It is about getting to one or another state of consciousness.

Don’t you think so?

LOVE; axinia

(image by me)

De Blog

Bastou uma olhada pela janela, naquela rápida ida ao banheiro entre uma noite bem dormida e a última visita aos lençóis. O céu nublado e a garoa tornaram mais fácil descartarmos uma das opções de vadiagem para nosso último dia em Madrid, a de visitar o Parque del Buen Retiro. Depois de um café da manhã sem pressa, fomos conhecer dois dos principais museus madrilenos, o Reina Sofia e o Del Prado. Nosso único receio em relação a essa programação eram as filas. Aos domingos, os dois museus têm entrada franca e costumam lotar. Pra nossa sorte, não foi o caso, e passamos algumas boas horas apreciando Mirós, Dalís e “bocetos de Picasso”.

O Reina Sofia foi um dos museus que mais gostamos em toda a viagem. Nele estão expostas coleções extensas de artistas espanhóis como Picasso, que reúnem não só quadros famosos já acabados, mas também esboços e obras em outros suportes, que ajudam a entender e desmistificar seus processos de criação. Ali se encontram vários “bocetos” (rascunhos) de personagens que depois iriam ser usados em Guernica, que também pertence ao acervo do Reina Sofia.

Concentramos nossa visita no segundo piso do museu, onde há salas dedicadas a Salvador Dalí, ao surrealismo e a revolução causada por ele dentro do movimento surrealista; a Juan Gris e “a reordenação do olhar moderno”; a Juan Miró, sua “pintura e antipintura”; à ”modernidade e a vanguarda da arte dos anos 30” e “a ruptura cubista do espaço”. Além de temas com nomes ainda mais pomposos e conteúdo de primeira. Pedantismo à parte, realmente coisa fina.

Do Reina Sofia, caminhamos em direção ao Del Prado, com uma parada no caminho, para provar a paella espanhola. Só que a fome era muita e nos faltou paciência para procurar um restaurante especializado. Acabamos comendo algo ligeiramente melhor que um PF de arroz com camarões e lulas. O que, pensando bem, deve ser mesmo a legítima paella espanhola pra quem “no tiene plata”, é durango. A lula, pelo menos, estava macia. E o vinho da casa saiu barato.

De Blog

O museu Del Prado reúne obras mais antigas que o Reina Sofia. Não é tanto a nossa praia, mas tem alguns quadros bem interessantes, como O Jardim das Delícias, do Hieronymus Bosch (Sec.XV), cheio de gente pelada, em um ambiente onírico, quase um Woodstock. No final das contas, valeu fácil a visita. Principalmente por ter sido de graça.

De lá, voltamos para casa para jantar, bater o último papo com nossos anfitriões, Jr e Juli, e reunir as tralhas para pegar um dos últimos metrôs para o aeroporto, por volta da meia noite. Esperaríamos acordados até às 6h30min da manhã, tentando dormir no chão frio de Baraja. Um dos nossos principais erros na viagem…

De Blog

The Garden of Earthly Delights (or The Millennium) is a triptych painted by Hieronymus Bosch (c. 1450–1516). The painting has been housed in the Museo del Prado in Madrid since 1939. Dating between 1503 and 1504, when Bosch was about 50 years old, it is his best-known and most ambitious work.

The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch

The triptych is painted in oil and comprises a square middle panel flanked by two rectangular wings that can close over the centre as shutters. The three scenes of the triptych are probably intended to be read chronologically from left to right.

The left panel depicts God presenting to Adam the newly created Eve:

The Garden of Earthly Delights (left panel)

The central panel is a broad panorama of sexually engaged nude figures, fantastical animals, oversized fruit and hybrid stone formations:

The Garden of Earthly Delights (centre panel)

The right panel is a hellscape and portrays the torments of damnation:

The Garden of Earthly Delights (right panel)

Art historians and critics frequently interpret the painting as a didactic warning on the perils of life’s temptations. However the intricacy of its symbolism, particularly that of the central panel, has led to a wide range of scholarly interpretations over the centuries. 20th and 21st-century art historians are divided as to whether the triptych’s central panel is a moral warning or a panorama of paradise lost.

www.rjdent.com

About Nothing

Some alternates:

• Where’s Newman?
• Larry DaVidnci
• Must-See Painting
• Heironymus Botched
• Sein Piled 

(via BuzzFeed)

Click here for the chart of all the items in the image.

Har maattet sande at jeg er elendig til rejseberetninger. Og (isaer) postkort. Har til gengaeld set Hieronymus Bosch paa Mimaramuseet, mosaikker paa det nationale kunstmuseum, smagt skoen kroatisk oel og fuldstaendig mistet interessen for kirker. Svedt. Travet. Og en hel masse andre ting, som jeg enten har glemt eller bare ikke formaar at putte paa sprog.

I want to send one of my favorite paintings: The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch.

I love this painting because of Bosch’s imagination.  I can spend hours looking at all the details in the painting and marvel at the landscape and beasts and stories the painting tells.  The three panels represent Eden, after the fall and hell.  He was a Dutch painter from the fifteenth century. 

Jane Zhang

I’ve been browsing DarkRoastedBlend.com’s steampunk series when I came across this weird picture of a church rolling around in battle tank tracks. It was not a real tank (or church) but the image caught my eye so much that I have to dig up the web for more.

The Church that means business

So I  Googled this guy’s name and I found out that the artist is a 35-year old American by the name of Kris Kuksi based in Hays, Kansas. An accomplished painter and sculptor, Kuksi is one of those elect people gifted with that enviable attention to detail and artistry I cannot hope to achieve in a lifetime.

You see, I’ve seen a lot of interesting juxtapositions in 2D and 3D art before but in my opinion, Kuksi’s works set the benchmark for detail and precision. Think Larry Alcala’s “Slice of Life” or Hieronymus Bosch’s “The Garden of Earthly Delights” in 3D and you’ll know what I mean.

His works normally feature a dominant head/skull figure floating above the rest of the tableau filled with chains, columns, mechanical doodads, gothic arches, skeletal remains, rococo patterns and android as well as animal figures in various sizes, stages of emotion and states of mutilation. His finished works are not only rich in detail and tension. They also overflow with socio-political and religious commentary for the discerning eye and mind. One can’t also help but notice the underlying order in the chaotic madness and melancholy juxtaposition of Victorian, modern and mechanical and anatomical elements in each of his impressive sculptural works.

Here are some great samples of his art I got from his website and deviantart account.

The Recreation

Plague Parade, Detail 1

The Deadly Sins

The Great Liberator

The Tower of Babel

Le Tour Macabre

Fall of Rome

Artomatic
55 M Street, S.E. 
Sun, Wed, Thu 12– 10pm, Fri and Sat 12– 1am

Artomatic, a non-profit, month-long art festival, is celebrating its tenth year filling unused Washington, DC office space with art. This year at 55 M Street, Artomatic has filled eight floors of office space with work by over 1000 visual artists. There is no jury or curator for Artomatic, and anyone can register. This means there are a lot of artists exhibiting in Artomatic whose goals are not to create contemporary fine art, and many who would like to meet that definition, but fall short. In this plethora of art, there are some jewels that should not be overlooked.

Jamie Wimberly, “Turn Off The Lights At The Tate,” Mixed Media, 2008. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Jamie Wimberly’s “Box Icon Series” consists of small personal altars made of cabinets, wood boxes and deep-set frames that contain objects of contemporary adulation. Often the boxes include votive candles and visual and verbal puns. These altars satirize the things society worships, in particular the female nude, which is one of the most popular subjects at Artomatic. Wimberly’s current project, “Provocations,” which he is showcasing at Artomatic, addresses the excesses and influences of the contemporary art market. One of these “Provocations” contains a votive candle, parted white curtains, a nude female and a dollar bill and is titled, “Gagosian.” This piece shares its name with the notable, Larry Gagosian and his superstar gallery who have had tremendous influence over the art world and what becomes contemporary art. Another work titled “Turn Off the Lights at the Tate” features votive candles, a metal plate that says ‘TATE,’ delicate white partitioned curtains, light switches on a background of deep red wax flowers, and a female nude thinking the word ‘off’ while her arms are braced over her face. The woman seems to be begging for some privacy from the thousands who walk through The Tate Modern every day, scrutinizing the female nudes that have literally become objects forever. The irony is that in creating this satire, Wimberly has once again objectified the female nude.

Ben Tolman, The Theatre, 80 x 64 in., ink on board, 2007-2008, Photo courtesy of the artist.

For Artomatic, Ben Tolman printed a reproduction of his work, “The Theater,” an 80 x 62 inch piece that looks like a modernized version of Hieronymus Bosch’s “Earthly Delights,” one of Tolman’s favorite paintings. Tolman’s ink drawings are very intricate, and he only completes about three per year—“The Theater” took nine months to complete. Whenever Tolman begins a new project he starts with a rough idea in mind and does a light sketch in ink of the complete composition. After completing the sketch, he concentrates on individual areas allowing the arrangement and focus to mature organically as he moves throughout the image. The resulting works capture the viewer, refusing release until the entire picture has been taken in. In a large drawing like “The Theater,” this can take some time, so Tolman provided chairs in front of his booth at Artomatic. Also featured at Tolman’s space at Artomatic is a print of a drawing that Tolman completed with artist Lars Peterson as part of the Antipodes project. Antipodes is a collaborative that Tolman started between artists around the world. The collaborative creates large-scale drawings through the mail, each artist adding to the drawing and then sending it to the next artist. A portrait by Tolman will be featured at The National Portrait Gallery as part of their Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition.

Michelle Herman, Applied Research & Technology (installation view, 2008), video and science equipment, 2008. Photo coutesy of the artist.

The collection of science equipment on floor two of Artomatic is the work of Michelle Herman. Her 16mm films are derived from Herman’s study of “Decalcomania,” a painting technique that involves pressing two surfaces together with pigment between them and then pulling them apart, leaving fractal, textured patterns behind. Herman’s videos show the way the ink spreads and moves in water, never repeating the same pattern. The video is displayed on a piece of equipment that looks like it belongs in a science lab, and the video itself looks more like an organism growing and changing than ink blots. Herman is very interested in the way certain bacteria take on the look of ‘decalcomania.’ Herman’s videos are her way of visualizing the controlled chance that exists in nature, in art and life in general. Herman also invites the visitor to participate in her ‘experiments’ by looking through a microscope, which is attached to a live feed camera that displays the unsuspecting visitor’s eye on a screen on the table.

Elizabeth Crisman, Untitled 4, silver gelatin print, 2008. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Elizabeth Crisman restructures elements of the human body and creates new large-scale compositions. By stitching together parts of the male and female body that she photographed, she addresses the psychological, as well as physical effects of the recent trend to transform the body though various medical procedures. In another series Crisman scans or photographs x-ray transparencies, rearranges them onto photosensitive paper and exposes the arrangement as a photogram. Interestingly, the sources for her compositions are completely anonymous, as the transparencies were purchased on eBay.

Tim Tate, I See Myself in a Hollywood Movie, Mixed media, 2008. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Encased in glass like tiny specimens, Tim Tate’s “Video Reliquaries” are deeply enchanting. Each round bubble of glass encloses a tiny video screen and is topped with a small glass sculpture. The smallness of the screen demands an intimate distance from the work, forcing a feeling of deep voyeurism that is most unnerving, particularly in Tate’s “I See Myself in a Hollywood Movie,” a closed circuit video that captures the viewer on the screen. The sculpture topping the piece is an old movie projector. Down beside “I See Myself in a Hollywood Movie,” is a red button that when pressed repeats Gloria Swanson’s famous line in the movie “Sunset Boulevard”—in a gruff voice so soft you have to lean in close to hear—”I’m big… it’s the movies that got small.” This work brings home the absurdity of the reality TV, fame obsessed culture we live in. Tate allows every visitor to be a star (if only on the small-screen), a desire that most participants in Artomatic seem to crave desperately.

J.T. Kirkland, Untitled, Construction-grade plywood, 96" x 144" x 1/2," 2009. Photo courtesy of the artist.

There are very few artists who believe that less is more; even in this bare-bones economy, most contemporary artists (and definitely Artomatic artists) seem to have a Rococo ornamental sensibility. J.T. Kirkland’s installation at Artomatic offers an elegant critique on this subject. Kirkland did not add anything to the plywood wall of his Artomatic space. Instead, he drilled shallow holes in the board, using smaller bits toward the center, focusing attention on the surface itself as opposed to anything adorning it. Kirkland’s work is also a component of a collaborative project at Artomatic called “Space Between.” The project features three artists with similar aesthetic sensibilities who are inspired by each other’s work. The project is still in its initial stages, but it will be interesting to follow as it develops.

Corwin Levi, Mandala, pencil on paper, 30x22, 2002. Photo courtesy of artist.

Corwin Levi’s drawings provide an intimate look into the workings of his mind. The drawings are astonishingly intricate and take a long time complete. Levi may start out with a few particular ideas but continues to express new thoughts and experiences that accumulate throughout his process. According to the artist, “each piece is both a video and a frame.” They express the time period up till and throughout the completion of the work while at the same time remaining frozen artifacts. The intricate patterns provide a steady composition, but at a closer look, the elements within the patterns contain irregularity and diversity. The components of each drawing must be viewed individually in order to fully appreciate their detail, and stepping back to take in the whole means the losing those details. This can be likened to an attempt to understand a person; it is impossible to understand the whole without losing the intricate details that compose the individual.

Eric Celarier, Untitled, mixed media. Photo courtesy of Katie Bechtold.

Eric Celarier sews small computer parts and circuit boards together to create intricate quilts. His overall design gives the illusion of an aerial perspective of a highly organized and structured city; however, the details of his stitching provide evidence of a human presence in the quilt. By sewing the metal parts on the fabric, Celarier renders the quilt useless in the functional sense, but calls attention to his choice of often disposed and overlooked material.

Alexandra Zealand, Flock, Grapefruit pith, string and wood. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Alexandra Zealand, a sculptor, collects discarded materials including coffee filters, matchsticks, and most recently grapefruit pith. With these materials she explores the human desire to prolong time until death. In her installation at Artomatic, Zealand hung small pieces of dried pith to form a cloudlike sculpture. The delicate structure sways with the slightest movement, and the individual pieces are especially engaging because of their texture and their range in color.

Since there is no curator or jury at Artomatic, there is a lot of kitsch and decorative art. This is not a bad thing, but it is unfortunate that Artomatic is not also thought of as an incubator and a stage for emerging fine artists. In looking at art in this space, it becomes necessary to imagine what an individual piece of art would look like in a gallery or museum in order to contextualize it and decide if it would belong. This tool could also be used the other way around when visiting galleries; imagining a particular work in a space like Artomatic can help diffuse the aura of the gallery and make an accurate decision about the aesthetic merits of the piece.

-Ophra Paul and Alison Reilly

Artomatic will be on view at 55 M St. until July 5th.

Humor negro em Bruges

Esse filme eu nem esperava que fosse tão bom. Em “In Bruges” (que também tem o horrível título brasileiro de Na Mira do Chefe), dois assassinos profissionais de Londres (Colin Farrell e Brendan Gleeson) são despachados por seu chefão (Ralph Fiennes) para Bruges, depois que o personagem de Farrel comete um “vacilo em serviço”.

Os dois se hospedam num simpático hotel e ficam aguardando instruções do chefe.  Gleeson curte o tempo todo, passeia pelas praças e monumentos feliz da vida. Enquanto que Farrell acha tudo um porre e não vê a hora de voltar, até que conhece uma bela moradora da cidade. Eles ficam nessa vida em que não acontece nada, até que Gleeson recebe uma missão inesperada do chefe. 

O filme é muito divertido e tem um roteiro muito original. Mas junto das muitas situações cômicas, vem um clima extremamente sombrio. Afinal, os protagonistas são assassinos. A própria ambientação em Bruges reforça esse aspecto. Embora seja uma das mais belas e bem preservadas cidades medievais da Europa, Bruges, ao mesmo tempo que parece um cenário de conto de fadas,  mostra seus traços góticos e esconde aqui e ali memórias sinistras. É a cidade natal de Hieronymus Bosch, autor daquelas pinturas bem assustadoras do Inferno, o Jardim das Delícias e a mais arrepiante de todas: O Triunfo da Morte.  Numa das sequências mais empolgantes, há um grupo de atores na praça vestidos como as criaturas dos quadros de Bosch. O tempo todo a trama envolve as situações hilárias ou até absurdas num clima sombrio. A doce hoteleira grávida que abriga matadores sanguinários, o diálogo entre Farrell e a moça, que entre cantadas e chistes tem que ouvir de um assassino alusões à fama de pedófilos dos belgas.

Brendan Gleeson e Colin Farrell são os assassinos escondidos em Bruges

A palavra ‘fuck’ é empregada tão insistentemente no filme, a ponto dos extras do DVD trazerem uma pequena edição só com os palavrões emitidos pelos personagens. Os extras trazem várias outras coisas boas, como o passeio por Bruges (destaque para os cisnes cruzando o rio que corta a cidade), erros de filmagem, cenas excluídas e entrevistas com os atores.

Zwei Absätze und ein Fazit aus Michael Brauns Bericht über das 4. Internationale Basler Lyrikfestival:
Für Thomas KLING. Matthyas Jenny hatte in seinem Programm diesmal den Willen und den Mut zu schroffen Kontrasten. Gewidmet war das Festival dem aufregendsten Lyriker unserer Zeit, der am 1.April dieses Jahres an Lungenkrebs gestorben ist: Thomas Kling. Urs Allemann führte in seiner Hommage an den toten Sprachekstatiker auf beeindruckende Weise vor, was «das absolute Ernstnehmen der dichterischen Sprache» (Thomas Kling) bedeutet: Die Sprache wird an eine Grenze geführt, wo die Ordnungen der Grammatik aufgebrochen und die Wörter in schrillen Formen der Deklamation bis zu ihrem Siedepunkt erhitzt werden.
Wie Hieronymus BOSCH. Im Sudhaus waren aber auch stillere Zerreissproben der Sprache zu erleben: Oswald Egger zum Beispiel entfaltete in seinen seltsam flirrenden, vegetabilischen Worterfindungen einen zaubrischen Naturwörterkosmos. Markus Stegmann, dessen düsterer Gedichtband «fuchsverbiss» im vergangenen Jahr ohne jede Resonanz geblieben ist, hatte mit Frank Schablewski einen ihm wahlverwandten Autor mitgebracht. In einem gemeinsamen Poem von Stegmann und Schablewski entsteht derzeit eine poetische Bild-Landschaft, die den apokalyptischen Szenerien eines Hieronymus Bosch entnommen sein könnte. …
So pendelte das Lyrikfestival zwischen literarischen Extremismen: zwischen frauenfreundlichen Gesängen, poetischer Wort-Zerreissungs-Kunst und radikalem Minimalismus. Wer sich nach einer wohltemperierten stilistischen Mittellage sehnt, wird bei diesem Lyrikfestival nicht fündig werden. / Basler Zeitung 20.9.
[Täuscht mich nicht alles, ist dies für Basel ein Lob; & wäre für Berlin und viele andere Festivalorte in Deutschland ein arger Verriß - womöglich mit Folgen? MG]