posted on 07.04.13 III Spring

The dogwood
lights up the day

The April moon
flakes the night

Birds, suddenly,
are a multitude

The flowers are ravined
by bees, the fruit blossoms

are thrown to the ground, the wind
the rain forces everything. Noise—

even the night is drummed
by whippoorwills, and we get

as busy, we plow, we move,
we break out, we love. The secret

which got lost neither hides
nor reveals itself, it shows forth

tokens. And we rush
to catch up. The body

whips the soul. In its great desire
it demands the elixir

In the roar of spring,
transmutations…

       -Charles Olson

 

Dream Vision (Apocalyptic Dream): Albrecht Dürer, 1525. Watercolour on paper, 30 x 43 cm. Text written by the artist beneath the watercolour: 


“In 1525, during the night between Wednesday and Thursday after Whitsuntide, I had this vision in my sleep, and saw how many great waters fell from heaven. The first struck the ground about four miles away from me with such a terrible force, enormous noise and splashing that it drowned the entire countryside. I was so greatly shocked at this that I awoke before the cloudburst. And the ensuing downpour was huge. Some of the waters fell some distance away and some close by. And they came from such a height that they seemed to fall at an equally slow pace. But the very first water that hit the ground so suddenly had fallen at such velocity, and was accompanied by wind and roaring so frightening, that when I awoke my whole body trembled and I could not recover for a long time. When I arose in the morning, I painted the above as I had seen it. May the Lord turn all things to the best.” (Kunsthistoriches Museum, Vienna)


All this via Tom Clark, who provides commentary on Dürer’s dream by Marguerite Yourcenar. David Dark on Twitter pointed me to this.(via ayjay) posted on 07.04.13

Dream Vision (Apocalyptic Dream): Albrecht Dürer, 1525. Watercolour on paper, 30 x 43 cm. Text written by the artist beneath the watercolour:

“In 1525, during the night between Wednesday and Thursday after Whitsuntide, I had this vision in my sleep, and saw how many great waters fell from heaven. The first struck the ground about four miles away from me with such a terrible force, enormous noise and splashing that it drowned the entire countryside. I was so greatly shocked at this that I awoke before the cloudburst. And the ensuing downpour was huge. Some of the waters fell some distance away and some close by. And they came from such a height that they seemed to fall at an equally slow pace. But the very first water that hit the ground so suddenly had fallen at such velocity, and was accompanied by wind and roaring so frightening, that when I awoke my whole body trembled and I could not recover for a long time. When I arose in the morning, I painted the above as I had seen it. May the Lord turn all things to the best.” (Kunsthistoriches Museum, Vienna)

All this via Tom Clark, who provides commentary on Dürer’s dream by Marguerite Yourcenar. David Dark on Twitter pointed me to this.(via ayjay)

posted on 29.03.13

Lovely, really. This video says speaks volumes about what TED talks have become. 

But let’s focus in a little with this:

 Ultimately, the TED phenomenon only makes sense when you realise that it’s all about the audience. TED Talks are designed to make people feel good about themselves; to flatter them and make them feel clever and knowledgeable; to give them the impression that they’re part of an elite group making the world a better place. People join for much the same reason they join societies like Mensa: it gives them a chance to label themselves part of an intellectual elite. That intelligence is optional, and you need to be rich and well-connected to get into the conferences and the exclusive fringe parties and events that accompany them, simply adds to the irresistible allure. TED’s slogan shouldn’t be ‘Ideas worth spreading’, it should be: ‘Ego worth paying for’. 
-Martin Robbins

and this:

After his acceptance speech TED curator Chris Anderson turned the auditoriums in Long Beach and La Quinta into a synergistic Baptist revival-style celebration of support. Pledge cards were distributed immediately to everyone in the rooms at both locations — they bear more than a passing resemblance to the envelopes and plates passed around right after the sermons in my old Presbyterian church. Audience members from large and small companies got up to pledge monetary and administrative support, and the mood was electric. Chris Anderson was the fiery yet graceful pastor, his fervor directed not at Jesus but at Mitra’s minimalistic school. This was the new type of religion I’ve often envisioned: the exuberant dedication of emotional and physical resources to a proven force of good, not to an irrational faith-based deity. This was a church without a god. Well maybe Bono is its god but that is a story for a different day.
-Trent Wolbe

Continuing with the written word theme, this elegant layout as printed by Aldus Manutius in around, oh, 1500 A.D. And it is still fresh. (via ayjay) 
Apparently, Manutius invented the idea of ‘pocket classics,’ low-cost editions of masterpieces that many could own.  His treatment of Aristotle:

and his famous emblem:

and a motto he saw on a Roman coin and adopted as one to live by:



Festina lente



which means “hurry slowly” or “hasten slowly.”  Mmmmmm.  
Of course which then makes one think of Italo Calvino, who adopted the motto from Aldus, and wrote in Six Memos:



“From my youth on, my personal motto has been the old Latin tag, Festina lente, hurry slowly. Perhaps what attracted me, even more than the words and the idea, was the suggestiveness of its emblems. You may recall that the great Venetian humanist publisher, Aldus Manutius, on all his title pages symbolized the motto Festina Lente by a dolphin in a sinuous curve around an anchor. The intensity and constancy of intellectual work are represented in that elegant graphic trademark, which Erasmus of Rotterdam commented on in some memorable pages. But both dolphin and anchor belong to the same world of marine emblems, and l have always preferred emblems that throw together incongruous and enigmatic figures, as in a rebus. Such are the butterfly and crab that illustrate festina lente in the sixteenth-century collection of emblems by Paolo Giovio. Butterfly and crab are both bizarre, both symmetrical in shape, and between them establish an unexpected kind of harmony.



posted on 22.01.13

Continuing with the written word theme, this elegant layout as printed by Aldus Manutius in around, oh, 1500 A.D. And it is still fresh. (via ayjay

Apparently, Manutius invented the idea of ‘pocket classics,’ low-cost editions of masterpieces that many could own.  His treatment of Aristotle:

Aristotle

and his famous emblem:

dolphin anchor

and a motto he saw on a Roman coin and adopted as one to live by:

Festina lente

which means “hurry slowly” or “hasten slowly.”  Mmmmmm.  

Of course which then makes one think of Italo Calvino, who adopted the motto from Aldus, and wrote in Six Memos:

“From my youth on, my personal motto has been the old Latin tag, Festina lente, hurry slowly. Perhaps what attracted me, even more than the words and the idea, was the suggestiveness of its emblems. You may recall that the great Venetian humanist publisher, Aldus Manutius, on all his title pages symbolized the motto Festina Lente by a dolphin in a sinuous curve around an anchor. The intensity and constancy of intellectual work are represented in that elegant graphic trademark, which Erasmus of Rotterdam commented on in some memorable pages. But both dolphin and anchor belong to the same world of marine emblems, and l have always preferred emblems that throw together incongruous and enigmatic figures, as in a rebus. Such are the butterfly and crab that illustrate festina lente in the sixteenth-century collection of emblems by Paolo Giovio. Butterfly and crab are both bizarre, both symmetrical in shape, and between them establish an unexpected kind of harmony.

paolo giovio

posted on 08.01.13 Estranged From Beauty, None Can Be—

“Esteban you silly, soggy goose,” she says to me the other day, catching me browsing this amazing site of her manuscripts,  ”why do care so much about my tattered letters?” 

My thoughts had no words that day.

“Emily because of this—

and this—

and this—”

I say.

posted on 03.01.13

Pendulums.

posted on 25.12.12 Earth’s Most Prodigious Night


from spiralling ecstatically this

proud nowhere of earth’s most prodigious night
blossoms a newborn babe:around him,eyes
—gifted with every keener appetite
than mere unmiracle can quite appease—
humbly in their imagined bodies kneel
(over time space doom dream while floats the whole

perhapsless mystery of paradise)

mind without soul may blast some universe
to might have been,and stop ten thousand stars
but not one heartbeat of this child;nor shall
even prevail a million questionings
against the silence of his mother’s smile

—whose only secret all creation sings

                   

                    e.e. cummings

posted on 26.11.12 The End of His Triumph

“Why do so many poets settle for so little? I don’t understand why they’re not greedy for what’s inside them. The heart has the ability to experience so much—and we don’t have much time.   […]
I think serious poems should make something happen that’s not correct or entertaining or clever.  I want something that matters to my heart… I am talking about being in danger — as we all are — of dying.  Politics is fine. There is a place to care for the injustice of the world, but that’s not what the poem is about.  The poem is about the heart.  We’re the only things —leaving religion out of it— we’re the only things in the world that know spring is coming. “

-Jack Gilbert

Jack Gilbert dies November 13, age 87.  ”What lasted was what the soul ate. / The way a child knows the world by putting it / part by part into his mouth.  As I tried to gnaw my way into the Lord, working to put my heart / against that heart. Lying in the wheat at night, / letting the rain after all the dry months have me.”  

A great and uncompromising poet, almost to the point of being a paradox:  he knew that being a great poet didn’t matter as nearly as much as being genuinely alive, which made him a great poet.  To Esteban, it is almost as if his writing was a means, not an end, of teaching his heart both how to abound and how to suffer need.  Thank you Jack for letting us in— and welcome to these seas of nostalgia.

ISLANDS AND FIGS

The sky
on and on,
stone.
The Mediterranean
down the cliff,
stone.
These fields,
rock.
Dead weeds
everywhere.
And the weight
of sun.
In the weeds
an old woman
lifting off
snails.
Near
two trees
of ripe figs.
The heart
never fits
the journey.
Always
one ends
first.

posted on 22.11.12

Rats and roaches live by competition under the laws of supply and demand; it is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.

-Wendell Berry

posted on 17.09.12 Can’t Teach Style

wtfismikewearing:

“I can get you four, five pair of these, fam. Discounted.”

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