Metaphysical Still Life | Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964)

Giorgio Morandi, Metaphysical Still Life, 1918

"One can travel this world and see nothing. To achieve understanding it is
necessary not to see many things, but to look hard at what you do see."

Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964)

Giorgio Morandi, Metaphysical Still Life, 1918

"Everything is a mystery, ourselves, and all things both simple and humble."

Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964)

Lady Love | Paul Eluard, 1924

Paul Eluard & Gala, 1913

She is standing on my lids
And her hair is in my hair
She has the colour of my eye
She has the body of my hand
In my shade she is engulfed
As a stone against the sky

She will never close her eyes
And she does not let me sleep
And her dreams in the bright day
Make the suns evaporate
And me laugh cry and laugh
Speak when I have nothing to say 

Lady Love | Paul Eluard, 1924
L'amoureuse, 1924 / Samuel Beckett's translation


Prague (1924 - 1971) | Photos by Josef Sudek / Vaclav Chochola / Willy Ronis / Josef Koudelka / Elliott Erwitt / Zdenek Voženílek

Josef Koudelka, Prague, August 1968 - Warsaw Pact troops invasion
Josef Sudek, Prague, 1933                                                                        Josef Sudek, Prague at Night, 1928
Marc Riboud, Prague, 1962
Elliott Erwitt, Prague, 1964
Prague from above by Dolezal brothers, 60’s                                                              Vaclav Chochola, Slepej, Prague, 1971
Jaromír Funke, Staircase of Old Prague, 1924
Josef Sudek, Prague, 1937                                                                                             M. Peterka, Boats on the Vltava river , Prague, 1960’s
Erich Lessing, Prague, 1956
Willy Ronis, Pont Charles, Prague, 1967
Zdenek Voženílek, Charles Bridge, Prague, 1964 

Stereosc2pe + The offer | Thomas Cooper Gotch / Anna Mae Walthall

Thomas Cooper Gotch, Engraving, 1874-31                                        Anna Mae Walthall, Bare Fists, 1919 

Book//mark - Wind, Sand and Stars | Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 1939

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in Toulouse, France, 1933                                                                           Terre des Hommes, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Nrf, Paris, 1939
                                                                                                                                                                                             Signed First Edition, 7 000 €. Réf: 59758. ( 

“What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.
It is always the same step, but you have to take it.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry stands next to the wreck of his Caudron C.630 Simoun, F-ANRY, in the Sahara, 1935

On 29 December 1935, while flying his red and white Caudron C.630 Simoun, F-ANRY, in a race
 from Paris, France, to Sài Gòn, French Indo-China, Saint-Exupéry crashed in the Sahara desert. 
He and his mechanic, André Prévost, were marooned without food or water. They wandered 
aimlessly for four days and were near death when they were rescued by a Bedouin tribesman. 
Saint-Exupéry wrote about the experience in Wind, Sand and Stars.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, First U.S. edition, 1939
Illustrations: John O'Hara Cosgrave II

“To be a man is, precisely, to be responsible. It is to feel shame at the sight of what seems
to be unmerited misery. It is to take pride in a victory won by one's comrades. It is to feel,
when setting one's stone, that one is contributing to the building of the world.”

“It is in the compelling zest of high adventure and of victory, and in creative action, that
 man finds his supreme joys.”

“But you want to remember that below the sea of clouds lies eternity.”

“Love is not just looking at each other, it's looking in the same direction.”

“One cannot live any longer on refrigerators, on politics, on balance-sheets and
cross-word puzzles. One cannot live any longer without poetry, colour and love.”

"To grasp the meaning of the world of today we use a language created to express the world
of yesterday. The life of the past seems to us nearer our true natures, but only for the reason
that it is nearer our language.
Every step on the road of progress takes us farther from habits which, as the life of man goes,
 we had only recently begun to acquire. We are in truth emigrants who have not founded our

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and StarsFirst U.S. edition, 1939 
Illustrations: John O'Hara Cosgrave II

“When I opened my eyes I saw nothing but the pool of nocturnal sky, for I was lying on my 
back with out-stretched arms, face to face with that hatchery of stars. Only half awake, still 
unaware that those depths were sky, having no roof between those depths and me, no branches 
to screen them, no root to cling to, I was seized with vertigo and felt myself as if flung forth 
and plunging downward like a diver.” 

“Behind all seen things lies something vaster; everything is but a path, a portal or a window 
opening on something other than iteself. ” 

“I looked about me. Luminous points glowed in the darkness. Cigarettes punctuated the humble
 meditations of worn old clerks. I heard them talking to one another in murmurs and whispers. 
They talked about illness, money, shabby domestic cares. And suddenly I had a vision of the face
 of destiny. Old bureaucrat, my comrade, it is not you who are to blame. No one ever helped you 
to escape. You, like a termite, built your peace by blocking up with cement every chink and 
cranny through which the light might pierce. You rolled yourself up into a ball in your genteel
 security, in routine, in the stifling conventions of provincial life, raising a modest rampart against
 the winds and the tides and the stars. You have chosen not to be perturbed by great problems, 
having trouble enough to forget your own fate as a man. You are not the dweller upon an errant 
planet and do not ask yourself questions to which there are no answers. Nobody grasped you by
 the shoulder while there was still time. Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and 
hardened, and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician, the poet, the astronomer
 that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.” 

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and StarsFirst U.S. edition, 1939 
Illustrations: John O'Hara Cosgrave II

“Alone within the vast tribunal that is the stormy sky, the pilot is in contention for his mailbags
 with three elemental divinities: mountain, sea and storm.”

“If he shrugs his shoulders, it is because he is no fool. He knows that once men are caught up
in an event they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men. But once a man has
faced the unknown, that terror becomes the known.”

   “Nothing, in truth, can ever replace a lost companion. Old comrades cannot be manufactured. 
There is nothing that can equal the treasure of so many shared memories, so many bad times 
endured together, so many quarrels, reconciliations, heartfelt impulses. Friendships like that 
cannot be reconstructed. If you plant an oak, you will hope in vain to sit soon under its shade.

   For such is life. We grow rich as we plant through the early years, but then come the years when
 time undoes our work and cuts down our trees. One by one our comrades deprive us of their 
shade, and within our mourning we always feel now the secret grief of growing old.

   If I search among my memories for those whose taste is lasting, if I write the balance sheet of the
 moments that truly counted, I surely find those that no fortune could have bought me. You cannot
 buy the friendship of a companion bound to you forever by ordeals endured together.”

“You’ll be bothered from time to time by storms, fog, snow. When you are, think to
yourself, ‘What they could do, I can do.”

“The first stars tremble as if shimmering in green water. Hours must pass before their glimmer
 hardens into the frozen glitter of diamonds. I shall have a long wait before I witness the soundless
 frolic of the shooting stars. In the profound darkness of certain nights I have seen the sky streaked
 with so many trailing sparks that it seemed to me a great gale must be blowing through the outer
 heavens. ” 

“I am not talking about living dangerously. Such words are meaningless to me. The toreador
does not stir me to enthusiasm. It is not danger I love. I know what I love. It is life.”

“What is going on inside me I cannot tell. In the sky a thousand stars are magnetized, and I lie glued
by the swing of the planet to the sand. A different weight brings me back to myself. I feel the weight
of my body drawing me towards so many things. My dreams are more real than these dunes, than
that moon, than these presences. My civilization is an empire more imperious than this empire. The
 marvel of a house is not that it shelters or warms a man, nor that its walls belong to him. It is that it
leaves its trace on the language. Let it remain a sign. Let it form, deep in the heart, that obscure range
 from which, as waters from a spring, are born our dreams.”

"What he had yearned to embrace was not the flesh but a down spirit, a spark, the impalpable 
angel that inhabits the flesh.” 

“Sitting in the flickering light of the candles on this kerchief of sand, on this village square, we 
waited in the night. We were waiting for the rescuing dawn - or for the Moors. Something, 
I know not what, lent this night a savor of Christmas. We told stories, we joked, we sang songs. 
In the air there was that slight fever that reigns over a gaily prepared feast. And yet we were 
infinitely poor. Wind, sand, and stars. The austerity of Trappists. But on this badly lighted cloth,
 a handful of men who possessed nothing in the world but their memories were sharing invisible
 riches. ” 

First U.S. edition book jacket, 1939                             Wind, Sand and Stars  Illustrated Edition                                  
(publisher: Reynal & Hitchcock)                                                                                                                             

“I had thought myself lost, had touched the very bottom of despair; and then, when the spirit of 
renunciation had filled me, I had known peace. I know now what I was not conscious of at the 
time—that in such an hour a man feels that he has finally found himself and has become his own
 friend. An essential inner need has been satisfied, and against that satisfaction, that self-fulfilment, 
no external power can prevail. Bonnafous, I imagine, he who spent: his life racing before the wind,
 was acquainted with this serenity of spirit. Guillaumet, too, in his snows. Never shall I forget that,
 lying buried to the chin in sand, strangled slowly to death by thirst, my heart was infinitely warm
 beneath the desert stars. What can men do to make known to themselves this sense of deliverance? 
Everything about mankind is paradox. He who strives and conquers grows soft. The magnanimous 
man grown rich becomes mean. The creative artist for whom everything is made easy nods. Every
 doctrine swears that it can breed men, but none can tell us in advance what sort of men it will breed.
 Men are not cattle to be fattened for market. In the scales of life an indigent Newton weighs more 
than a parcel of prosperous nonentities. All of us have had the experience of a sudden joy that came 
when nothing in the world had forewarned us of its coming—a joy so thrilling that if it was born of 
misery we remembered even the misery with tenderness.”

“You, Bedouin of Libya who saved our lives, though you will dwell forever in my memory yet I 
shall never be able to recapture your features. You are Humanity and your face comes into my 
mind simply as man incarnate. You, our beloved fellowman, did not know who we might be, 
and yet you recognized us without fail. And I, in my turn, shall recognize you in the faces of 
all mankind. You came towards me in an aureole of charity and magnanimity bearing the gift 
of water. All my friends and all my enemies marched towards me in your person. It did not 
seem to me that you were rescuing me: rather did it seem that you were forgiving me. And I 
felt I had no enemy left in all the world.”

Wind, Sand and Stars | Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 1939

* Saint-Exupéry dedicated the book to his friend Henri Guillaumet of Aéropostale.

In America, Wind, Sand and Stars was hailed on the front page of The New York Times Book Review as "a beautiful book, and a brave book. and a book that should be read against the confusion of this world, if only that we may retain 'our pride in humanity and our excitement in this modern age." Launched with fanfare by Reynal & Hitchcock, it was reviewed as well on the June covers of The Saturday Review and the New York Herald Tribune Books section, and quickly became a best-seller. "To read it is to forget we are earthbound," raved the Atlantic reviewer, who like several American critics knew little of Saint-Exupéry but made of him a quick study, describing the book's "contrasting moods of loneliness and human warmth, of exhilaration and the merciless exposure of nerves and sanity." (Many of Saint-Exupéry's friends would have howled with laughter had they read the Herald Tribune review, in which Ben Ray Redman, noting the author's quibble that most men are half-asleep in their lives, wrote, "Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is awake and would awaken others.") In October, a month after war had been declared, Wind, Sand and Stars read just as well in London, where The Spectator's reviewer was struck by Saint-Exupéry's "God-like tolerance for the pettiness and folly of mankind." "He touches nothing which he does not illuminate," wrote the Times Literary Supplement's critic of this book of "visions and dreams," rarely described in any country as anything less than a "hymn," a "poem," an "adventure in prose," or a "rhapsody." The fan mail poured in, from such disparate admirers as Le Corbusier and King Leopold of Belgium.

Stacy Schiff's, Saint-Exupéry — A Biography, 1994


Now blue October | Robert Nathan (1894-1985)

Arkhip Kuindzhi, The Dnieper River in the morning, 1881 

Now blue October, smoky in the sun,
Must end the long, sweet summer of the heart.
The last brief visit of the birds is done;
They sing the Autumn songs before they part.
Listen, how lovely--there's the thrush we heard
When June was small with roses, and the bending
Blossom of branches covered nest and bird,
Singing the summer in, summer unending--
Give me your hand once more before the night;
See how the meadows darken with the frost,
How fades the green that was the summer's light.
Beauty is only altered, never lost,
And love, before the cold November rain,
Will make its summer in the heart again.

Now blue October |  Robert Nathan (1894-1985)

J[A-Z]Z / p1ck ( Taylor's Wailers | Art Taylor, 1957

Liner Notes – Ira Gitler

Art Taylor, Cubano Chant, 1957

Recorded at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey on February 25, 1957 
plus a track from a different session featuring John Coltrane on sax

Art Taylor - drums
Donald Byrd - trumpet
Jackie McLean - alto sax
Charlie Rouse - tenor sax
Ray Bryant - piano
Wendell Marshall - bass

Art Taylor, 1957

Capucine | Photos by Yale Joel / Walter Carone | Paris, 1952

Capucine by Yale Joel, Paris, 1952
Capucine by Yale Joel, Paris, 1952
Capucine by Yale Joel, Paris, 1952
Capucine by Yale Joel, Paris, 1952
Capucine by Yale Joel, Paris, 1952
Capucine by Walter Carone, 1952

Capucine / Germaine  Lefebvre (1928 – 1990) was a French fashion model and actress
known for her comedic roles in The Pink Panther (1963) and What's New Pussycat? (1965)
Capucine made her film debut in Jean Cocteau's The Eagle with Two Heads (1948)

Alphabetarion # A Parrot | Mark Twain / Édouard Manet / Gustave Courbet

Édouard Manet, Young Lady, 1866

"She was not quite what you would call refined. 
She was not quite what you would call unrefined. 
She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot." 

Mark Twain 

Gustave Courbet, Woman With a Parrot, 1866

Flick Review < Gabriel | Agnes Martin (1976)

Agnes Martin, Gabriel, 1976
16 mm, color, sound, 78 minutes. Courtesy Pace Gallery / ARS © Estate of Agnes Martin

Gabriel (1976) is the only film by the Canadian-American painter Agnes Martin. 
It is 78 minutes in length, and features a little boy going for a walk in a natural landscape.
The film is silent, apart from seven moments at which excerpts from Bach’s
Goldberg Variations come in for two or three minutes at a time.
The boy was played by Peter Mayne, who was from Cuba, New Mexico
(where Martin lived at the time). Martin referred to Mayne as ‘a little hippie boy’
and noted that though he looks about ten years old, he was in fact fourteen.
Gabriel was filmed in various locations in the American Southwest, including
California, Colorado and New Mexico.

Agnes Martin near her house in Cuba, New Mexico, 1974
 photograph by Gianfranco Gorgoni

On the title of the film, the artist noted that she chose an angel’s name to
represent innocence. Martin said she wanted to make a film
"about happiness and innocence. I’ve never seen a movie or read a story that was 
absolutely free of any misery. And so, I thought I would make one. The whole 
thing is about a little boy who has a day of freedom, in which he feels free."

"Agnes Martin is a great painter and whatever she does has an importance.
Her film is no great cinema, that I have to state at the outset. But it is a very beautiful film.
[...] Agnes Martin's film is about water, about countryside, flowers, nature, and mystery."

Jonas Mekas
reviewed it in his ‘Movie Journal’ column in the Soho Weekly News

Variations | Glenn Gould, 1956

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