april 2, 2011 § Legg igjen en kommentar

Aner ikke jeg. Har ikke peiling. Hvis alt ved oss er resultat av meningsløs evolusjon er spørsmålet absurd. Da bør det lyde: Hvorfor i all verden spør vi?

 

embracing the wounds

mars 31, 2011 § 2 kommentarer

av David John Lotto

det finnes virkelighet som var, nå er den foldet inn i ting som minner, nå står den i en vase og forstøver, eller ligger i en skuff du tar ut for å hente noe du behøver, du våkner i den fra en drøm, og så våkner du igjen og vet at den er over.

inside/outside

mars 28, 2011 § Legg igjen en kommentar

Promenade &

Jetee av Noemie Goudal.

the enemy within

mars 26, 2011 § Legg igjen en kommentar

Din aller verste venn. Ligge stille da, vente. Til det går over igjen.

The enemy within by Aubrey Rhodes

World Watcher

mars 23, 2011 § 3 kommentarer

Tenk om det sitter en stor, stille, rolig én og ser ut over menneskeheten og labyrintene der vi myldrer og aldri, aldri får lyst opp i krokene. Tenk om det sitter én og har overblikket over de talløse aspektene ved alle hendelsene og alle tingene. Tenk om det sitter én og kan se at en ulykke et sted, en storm, et skred, en forelskelse er en nødvendighet og til velsignelse, eller i hvert fall en nokså nyttig del av balansestykket som gjør at vår verden ikke faller sammen og ned. Og knuser. Mot bunnen av universet. Tenk om det sitter én og lytter og hører ropene fra de sårede, bønnene fra de savnede, sukkene fra de knekkede og vet at de bærer, de bærer med vinder og understrømmer. Og annet sted, kanskje til og med i en annen tid, veksles de, ofte sent, men aldri for tidlig, inn i barmhjertighet. Tenk om det sitter én og nikker med hittil ukjent tyngde og vekt og kan bekrefte det.

Tenk om det ikke finnes nåde i all evighet.

World Watcher by Jack Spencer

terence davies/of time and the city: A love song and a eulogy

mars 21, 2011 § 1 kommentar

Og jeg kan aldri glemme en scene fra Distant Voices, Still Lives, Terence Davies film om sin egen familie på 40 og 50 tallet i Liverpool: En ung kvinne står i en døråpning og ser inn i et trapperom, venter, så synger hun, går rundt seg selv noen ganger mens hun synger en sang. Det finnes noe filmscener og de er ikke dramatiske en gang. De er ofte så stille.

andrea gibson/for eli (for denne dagen)

mars 19, 2011 § Legg igjen en kommentar

Eli came back from Iraq
and tattooed a teddy bear onto the inside of his wrist
above that a medic with an IV bag
above that an angel
but Eli says the teddy bear won’t live

and I know I don’t know but I say, «I know»
cause Eli’s only twenty-four and I’ve never seen eyes
further away from childhood than his
eyes old with a wisdom
he knows I’d rather not have

Eli’s mother traces a teddy bear onto the inside of my arm
and says, «not all casualties come home in body bags»
and I swear
I’d spend the rest of my life writing nothing
but the word light at the end of this tunnel
if I could find the fucking tunnel
I’d write nothing but white flags
somebody pray for the soldiers
somebody pray for what’s lost
somebody pray for the mailbox
that holds the official letters
to the mothers,
————–fathers,
——————–sisters,

and little brothers
of Micheal 19… Steven 21… John 33
how ironic that their deaths sound like bible verses

the hearse is parked in the halls of the high school
recruiting black, brown and poor
while anti-war activists
outside walter reed army hospital scream

100, 000 slain

as an amputee on the third floor
breathes forget-me-nots onto the window pain

but how can we forget what we never knew

our sky is so perfectly blue it’s repulsive
somebody tell me where god lives
cause if god is truth god doesn’t live here
our lies have seared the sun too hot to live by
there are ghosts of kids who are still alive
touting M16s with trembling hands
while we dream ourselves stars on Survivor
another missile sets fire to the face in the locket
of a mother who’s son needed money for college
and she swears she can feel his photograph burn

how many wars will it take us to learn
that only the dead return
the rest remain forever caught between worlds of

shrapnel shatters body of three year old girl
to
welcome to McDonalds can I take your order?

the mortar of sanity crumbling
stumbling back home to a home that will never be home again
Eli doesn’t know if he can ever write a poem again
one third of the homeless men in this country are veterans
and we have the nerve to Support Our Troops
with pretty yellow ribbons
while giving nothing but dirty looks to their outstretched hands

tell me what land of the free
sets free its eighteen-year-old kids into greedy war zones
hones them like missiles
then returns their bones in the middle of the night
so no one can see
each death swept beneath the carpet and hidden like dirt
each life a promise we never kept

Jeff Lucey came back from Iraq
and hung himself in his parents basement with a garden hose
the night before he died he spent forty five minutes on his fathers lap
rocking like a baby
rocking like daddy, save me
and don’t think for a minute he too isn’t collateral damage
in the mansions of washington they are watching them burn
and hoarding the water
no senators’ sons are being sent out to slaughter
no presidents’ daughters are licking ashes from their lips
or dreaming up ropes to wrap around their necks
in case they ever make it home alive

our eyes are closed
america
there are souls in
the boots of the soldiers
america
fuck your yellow ribbon
you wanna support our troops
bring them home
and hold them tight when they get here

36 Viuws of Mount Fuji for Japan

mars 17, 2011 § Legg igjen en kommentar

Katsushika Hokusai laget en serie på 36 med Views of Mount Fuji. Han produserte under 30 forskjellige navn i løpet av livet. Mot slutten som «Gakyo Rojin Manji» (The Old Man Mad about art). «The Great Wave of Kanagawa» er også et av verkene fra 36 Views of Mount Fuji.

“ From around the age of six, I had the habit of sketching from life. I became an artist, and from fifty on began producing works that won some reputation, but nothing I did before the age of seventy was worthy of attention. At seventy-three, I began to grasp the structures of birds and beasts, insects and fish, and of the way plants grow. If I go on trying, I will surely understand them still better by the time I am eighty-six, so that by ninety I will have penetrated to their essential nature. At one hundred, I may well have a positively divine understanding of them, while at one hundred and thirty, forty, or more I will have reached the stage where every dot and every stroke I paint will be alive. May Heaven, that grants long life, give me the chance to prove that this is no lie. ”

Hokusai

for japan

mars 16, 2011 § 1 kommentar

Spring in Rain at Shiba Park, Kawase Hasui.

The Prinzhorn Collection

mars 16, 2011 § 3 kommentarer

The Prinzhorn Collection er en samling arbeider psykiater og historiker Hans Prinzhorn samlet gjennom sitt arbeid med med psykisk syke ved Univeristetssykehuset i Heidelberg i Tyskland i 1920-årene. Samlingen som finnes Universitetet i Heidelberg består av rundt 5000 arbeider laget av 450 pasienter.

» [… ] Josef Forster (born in 1878) has only one untitled work, created after 1916. This became an emblem of the Prinzhorn collection, as it is an utterly Modernist piece in the Expressionist style. In this rough painting, a boy in a black suit with a blue scarf over his face is barely standing on stilts. The white sky above him could be a blizzard; the grass is a coarse green, peppered with black. In the upper right-hand corner of the painting, Forster explains his image: «This is to show that when somebody’s body does not weigh anything anymore, they no longer need to complain about their weight and are able to glide very quickly in the air.»

Wunder Hirthe by August Natterer. «Natterer was an electro-technician and unsuccessful scientist who went bankrupt. He was haunted by hallucinations after his business failure, and began to believe that he was a messenger of God. Later in life, he thought he was Napoleon IV. These imaginary lives supply the visions for his works, which, not surprisingly, made Neter a hero of the Surrealists.»

«Else Blankenhorn grew up in a bourgeois family, and was active culturally and socially. She played the piano and sang until she lost her voice at the age of 26, the result of neurasthenia. Later, she suffered from hypochondria, then nightmares. Her gouache works are scenes from her imaginary life, in which her alter ego lived with Emperor Wilhelm II. As his spiritual wife, «Else von Hohenzollern,» she produced banknotes featuring flowers and her angelic image in multiples, for the purpose of helping not the living, but dead lovers in need of redemption.»

» Oskar Herzberg, with no record of his birth or death, was hospitalized in Vienna from 1912 to 1914. He claimed to be a composer and a news vendor, but, in reality, his profession was servant. His works dominate a room and include pencil drawings (on ruled paper) and colorful works of gouache over pencil drawings depicting vivid and mainly happy scenes of life, like an afternoon on the ski slopes or a cheerful row of more than three dozen singing boys, titled Castrati.»

Letter written to her husband by Emma Hauck.

De engelske tekstene over er hentet fra artikkelen Messages from the margins skrevet av Tony Ozuna i Praguer Post.

The Prinzhorn Collection
Psychiatric University Hospital in Heidelberg

Hans Prinzhorn, Artistry of the mentally ill 저자

In his book, Prinzhorn first develops a theory of personal expression for creative production. He enlists a complex model involving various partial drives in an attempt to explain the phenomenon of Bildnerei (roughly “artistry” in English – he deliberately avoided the word for art, Kunst, for he considered it too loaded) in terms of the psychology of the creative urge. The second part of the book then examines the representations of schizophrenic patients, and dedicates a section each to ten such artistically active patients. Although he also affords the reader a glimpse into the ten people’s life histories and personalities, Prinzhorn’s interest here is directed more to analysing the works by empathic means (Prinzhorn also talks of “Wesensschau”, or primal insight). The third part deals with diagnostic questions and parallels to other forms of creative expression. Here Prinzhorn not only draws comparisons to thehttp://smileb.tistory.com/plugin/CallBack_bootstrapperSrc?nil_profile=tistory&nil_type=copied_post art of children and so-called “primitives”, but also to contemporary art. He explains the similarities in the latter to the patients’ works as being due to a “schizophrenic feeling of existence” that could be witnessed among his contemporaries. In his view, this reflects essentially an “ambivalent dwelling on the state of tension prior to making decisions”, which had also been determined among the mentally ill. Comparable efforts made in the artistic realm do not, however, result in the same success, because “healthy” individuals largely lack the ability to tap the unconscious during spontaneous creativity. Prinzhorn compared the “genuine” works of the schizophrenics with the “rational substitute constructions” of the leading artists of his day, and came up with an unconventional and radical critique of civilisation  one that appears to have been the actual impetus for his book. His own position can already be compared with that of Jean Dubuffet, who was later to refer to himself as a “discoverer of discoverers”.