Sunday, February 23, 2014

Without you

My Pillow gazes upon me at night
Empty as a gravestone;
I never thought it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Not to lie down asleep in your hair.

I lie alone in a silent house,
The hanging lamp darkened,
And gently stretch out my hands
To gather in yours,
And softly press my warm mouth
Toward you, and kiss myself, exhausted and weak-
Then suddenly I'm awake
And all around me the cold night grows still.
The star in the window shines clearly-
Where is your blond hair,
Where your sweet mouth?

Now I drink pain in every delight
And poison in every wine;
I never knew it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Alone, without you.



Hermann Hesse


Friday, February 21, 2014

Your Feet

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

by Pablo Neruda


Sunday, February 16, 2014

Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon: Breaking with Tradition

          Perhaps the most radical painting of the twentieth-century, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, hangs unobtrusively at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. This large canvas, measuring 96" x 92", was to revolutionize modern painting by charting a new way of depicting reality. In 1907 its painter, Pablo Picasso, broke all of the rules that the "artistically correct" learned at the art academies: he disposed of three-dimensional perspective, abandoned harmonious proportion, used distortion, and borrowed from the art of primitive cultures. In fact, the painting was such a revolutionary statement that when the painting was first viewed by some French critics, the painter Derain even suggested to Picasso that he would one day commit suicide for the shame that he had brought on the art establishment          Originally Les Demoiselles was going to be an allegory of venereal disease entitled "The Wages of Sin." In the study for the painting, Picasso sketched a sailor carousing in a brothel amongst prostitutes and a young medical student holding a skull, a symbol for mortality. But the subsequent painting is quite different from the original sketch: only the women appear. And these women are not the traditional nudes that viewers had become so accustomed to in the 1880's when Degas and Toulouse-Lautrec had begun to capture them in the moment of the "parade," whereby prostitutes announced their wares and services to their clients. Nor are these women feminine and beautiful as Ingres’ Venus Anadyomene. Then who are these women in this brothel in Barcelona's Avignon Street and why do they appear the way they do? Perhaps the answers to these questions lie in Picasso's fear of women in general. Their flesh is not depicted as being soft and inviting but sharp and knifelike. In fact, their flesh suggests castration and fear of women. As Robert Hughes implies, "No painter put his anxiety about impotence and castration more plainly than Picasso did in Les Demoiselles, or projected it through a more violent dislocation of form. Even the melon, that sweet and pulpy fruit, looks like a weapon". But are there any other reasons why Picasso gives these women these shocking forms?         
 As an artist living in Paris at the beginning of the new 20th century, Picasso wanted to find a new artistic language that could express the vitality of the new millennium. Although the world was rapidly changing, artists had not kept pace and were still wallowing in the aesthetic ideas of the nineteenth-century. The real world had radically changed, for it had become mechanized by technology. Moreover, philosophers such as Alfred Whitehead and F. H. Bradley and the physicist Alfred Einstein were altering the way modern man perceived reality: the world of old Newtonian values of absolute space and time was rapidly crumbling. Instead, modern man was being forced to live in a world where there are no simple locations and where all relations are plural. Picasso posed the problem to himself of how to capture this new acceleration of life and consequent plurality of points of view on a canvas. He proposed to solve this aesthetic problem by creating a new way of representing pictorial space.          Since the late 18th century, artists had been re-evaluating the Renaissance's concept of pictorial space, created through the means of linear and atmospheric perspective, whereby a fixed spectator observed a cube of space in which the sense of depth was created by a geometric diminution of objects in scale and in clarity as, apparently, they receded into the distance.. For Picasso, this rendering of space was no longer valid because the "fixed spectator" no longer existed. Now the modern spectator had been transformed into someone who was in constant movement, forced to look at objects from several points of view. Picasso became obsessed with what he regarded as the anachronistic artistic rules governing the representation of three-dimensional form on a flat surface and with reconciling them with the new modern acceleration. Les Demoiselles d'Avignon represents a working out of this reconciliation. His solution was to paint five nude contorted women.          Now let's examine why he would portray them in such a manner. If we examine the seated woman to our right, you'll notice that her face and arms are facing us but her torso, buttocks and extremities are turned away from us. In other words, Picasso lets us simultaneously glimpse at different aspects of this woman that a fixed viewer could not ordinarily do so. In other words, Picasso is trying to show us a composite of this woman from as many different points of view as possible so that we may experience her in her totality. Picasso does the very same thing to the woman standing to our left. If we examine her closely, we will notice that she is ambiguously portrayed. First of all, her face is depicted both laterally and frontally. She is posed like an ancient Egyptian form who looks to the side but whose eye looks directly to the front. Furthermore, if we inspect her body, we will discover something very odd. Her right side is depicted dorsally, whereas her left side is portrayed frontally. It's as if Picasso has twisted her body so that we may get a glimpse of as many aspects of her as possible. In other words, Picasso wants to show us this woman in her entirety.
 In rendering the new reality, Picasso also abandons harmonious bodily proportions. This, of course, was done on purpose since Picasso had been trained at art school how to render the human figure through mathematical proportions. The woman located at the very center of the canvas is quite disproportionate, elongated as though she were a figure out of an El Greco painting. If we focus on her extremities, they seem to go on forever, as if her short-waisted torso was out of context with the rest of her body. And so it goes for the rest of the figures in the picture. Was there any precedent for doing such a thing? Picasso's Les Demoiselles is a homage to Paul Cézanne'sThe Bathers. Not only do both works echo Cezanne's dictum of "the cone, the cylinder, and the sphere," but both paintings distort the human body. However, whereas Cezanne distorts the women in The Bathers in order to bring the viewer into the pictorial plane and to balance the figures and structures within the painting, Picasso does so for a different purpose. Picasso distorts each of these women to show who is in power—that  he can take control and mangle them—and  that, in the final analysis, they still threaten him as human beings.
 But this distortion and use of pure geometrical shapes are not the only elements that Picasso borrows from Cezanne's work. Picasso limits his palette just as Cezanne does because both are concerned more with the rendering of form than with the use of color. To have used more colors than the blues, pinks, ochres, rusts, and grays that he employs would have been distracting. Furthermore, these colors are totally flat, as though to suggest that these women are linearly rendered, "constructed" rather than modeled.          Les Demoiselles is also disturbing in the ghastly and violent way that the women's faces are portrayed. Georges Braque went so far as to say that "Picasso was drinking turpentine and spitting fire". But these women appeared the way they do for very specific reasons. These women are, after all, prostitutes who are cold, calculating businesswomen who dabble in sex for a profit and who practice a "savage" profession. The three women on the left look as though they were made from stone, and, remember, the onlooker is a sexual voyeur who is experiencing sexual anxiety. There is nothing inviting about either of them. Their faces are derived from the pre-Roman Iberian bronzes that Picasso had seen in the Louvre and had been experimenting with since 1906. The two remaining women's faces are borrowed from African sculpture, a jarring juxtaposition. Perhaps one of the reasons why he did this is to suggest the dark, uncivilized nature of the "oldest" profession. Another reason is that these women represent a composite of the Spanish people, descended from native tribes the Iberian peninsula, north Africa, and middle-eastern Jews.  Furthermore, perhaps Picasso is even alluding to the final stages of syphilis, whereby the human face becomes a bulbous mask of thickened skin. But maybe Picasso’s interest in deforming their faces is purely a formal one, a means of negating realism and embracing abstraction and distortion. Nevertheless, this plundering of African art was revolutionary in that Picasso uses it to shock the viewer through brutality and savagery. Painting was never to be the same.

  In the final analysis, Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon is the perfect example of how the worn, accepted traditions of art were questioned and transformed by an artist who was all too willing to be influenced by the intellectual and artistic environment of his times as well as by his own neurosis.

Your Words of Love

I have seemingly missed your words of love, 
Those words that were written in the sand
 
And erased by the first wave.
Do you remember, my love?
 
I have enclosed them hermetically
 
With that last kiss.
And, after that,
 
Another kiss
 
And another exotic beach
 
And another feeling, autumnal feeling,
 
Of another ostensible seemingly love
Fulfilled my nothingness...
Among corals and shells,
 
Dried by the winds of the sea,
 
I awake in following my lost steps,
 
Taken by the waves
 
And redirected to the great unknown in the sea,
 
That great eternal.....
I still love you,
 
I love you more, miss you more.
Yes, I still miss you
And I realize that all I can do now
 
Is to lodge near the moan of the sea sand,
 
Which feels like a silk slipped worn-out dress,
 
When I touch it.
And slantingly I elect the oblivion,
 
When
 
I want to kiss again and again
Your gray-haired temple,
 
But, in reverting, I receive only
 
The kiss of our child...
 

Marieta Maglas

Monday, February 10, 2014

A Brave and Startling Truth

A Brave and Startling Truth
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet 
Traveling through casual space
 
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
 
To a destination where all signs tell us
 
It is possible and imperative that we learn
 
A brave and startling truth
 

And when we come to it
 
To the day of peacemaking
 
When we release our fingers
 
From fists of hostility
 
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
 

When we come to it
 
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
 
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
 
When battlefields and coliseum
 
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
 
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
 
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
 

When the rapacious storming of the churches
 
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
 
When the pennants are waving gaily
 
When the banners of the world tremble
 
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
 

When we come to it
 
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
 
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
 
When land mines of death have been removed
 
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
 
When religious ritual is not perfumed
 
By the incense of burning flesh
 
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
 
By nightmares of abuse
 

When we come to it
 
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
 
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
 
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
 
Hanging as eternal beauty
 
In our collective memory
 
Not the Grand Canyon
 
Kindled into delicious color
 
By Western sunsets
 

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
 
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
 
Stretching to the Rising Sun
 
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
 
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
 
These are not the only wonders of the world
 

When we come to it
 
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
 
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
 
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
 
We, this people on this mote of matter
 
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
 
Which challenge our very existence
 
Yet out of those same mouths
 
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
 
That the heart falters in its labor
 
And the body is quieted into awe
 

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
 
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
 
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
 
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
 
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
 
And the proud back is glad to bend
 
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
 
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
 

When we come to it
 
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
 
Created on this earth, of this earth
 
Have the power to fashion for this earth
 
A climate where every man and every woman
 
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
 
Without crippling fear
 

When we come to it
 
We must confess that we are the possible
 
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
 
That is when, and only when
 
We come to it.
 
Maya Angelou


Danaë by Gustav Klimt

Danaë is an oil painting by Gustav Klimt, created in 1907. The canvas measures 77 x 83 cm, is cataloged as Symbolism (arts)|Symbolism, and is housed in the Galerie Würthle in Vienna. Danaë was a popular subject in the early 1900’s for many artists; she was used as the quintessential symbol of divine love, and Transcendence (philosophy)|transcendence. While imprisoned by her father, King of Argos, in a tower of bronze, Danaë was visited by Zeus, symbolized here as the golden rain flowing between her legs. It is apparent from the subject's face that she is sexual arousal|aroused by the golden stream. In this work, she is curled in a sumptuous royal purple veil which refers to her imperial lineage. Sometime after her celestial visitation she gave birth to a son, Perseus, who is cited later in Greek mythology for slaying the Gorgon Medusa and rescuing Andromeda (mythology)|Andromeda. Many other early portrayals of Danaë were often erotic; other paintings completed in similar style are Klimt’sMedicine (Klimt Painting)|Medicine (1900- 1907), and Water Snakes(1904 – 1907).Payne, Laura. Klimt. Bath, UK: Parragon Publishing, 2004.