Stereosc2pe + | Mont Sainte-Victoire | Paul Cézanne / Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1888-1906

Paul Cézanne, Mont Sainte-Victoire, 1904–1906 
Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Mont Sainte-Victoire, 1888–1889

Montagne Sainte-Victoire is a mountain in southern France,
 overlooking Aix-en-Provence.

J[A-Z]Z / p1ck ( Somnambulists | Wanda Warska With The Kurylewicz Trio, 1961

Cover: Rosław Szaybo

Wanda Warska With The Kurylewicz Trio - Lover Man

Jan Byrczek - Bass 
Andrzej Dąbrowski - Drums 
A. Kurylewicz - Piano 
Andrzej Kurylewicz - Trumpet 
Wanda Warska - Vocals 


Alphabetarion # Εxist | Fyodor Dostoyevsky, 1864

Antonio Mora

"I used to imagine adventures for myself, I invented a life,
so that I could at least exist somehow."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground, 1864


Χαιρετισμός | Ζωή Καρέλλη,1949

Gertrud Arndt, Bauhaus Rug No. 1, 1924

Ο χρόνος
μοιραίος ίσως και μάταιος
Ο χρόνος
καθαρός πολύτιμος
σταθερός απείραχτος
δυνατός συμπαγής
ολόκληρος νοητός ατελείωτος
αιώνιος αστείρευτος αέναος άθιχτος
ακέραιος ακατάπαυστος
διαρκής ασάλευτος
αδίσταχτος αδιαίρετος
ακίνητος άκρατος αδέσμευτος
πυκνός αδιάφορος αδιαπέραστος
ο χρόνος αδιάλλαχτος
αδιάλεχτος απρόσιτος αδιήγητος
αγνώριστος άγνωστος άδηλος
πολύπλοκος ποικίλος ανεξήγητος
βέβαιος αβέβαιος
χρόνος αβίαστος απροσδόκητος
αδοκίμαστος αδιέξοδος
χρόνος βαθύς και τραχύς.
Αγέρωχος πλούσιος, άφθονος
o χρόνος ακριβής αιφνίδιος
φανερός ο δίκαιος υπερήφανος
ένας ο μοναδικός χρόνος, λαμπρός
ο έξοχος νέος διαρκώς
ένδοξος θείος ο χρόνος.

Ζωή Καρέλλη, Χαιρετισμός 
συλ. Φαντασία του Χρόνου (1949)

Alphabetarion # A Magpie | Colin Thiele, 1974

“A magpie can be happy or sad: sometimes so happy that he sits on a high, high gum tree 
and rolls the sunrise around in his throat like beads of pink sunlight; and sometimes 
so sad that you would expect the tears to drip off his beak.
This magpie was like that.”

Colin Thiele, Magpie Island, 1974

Book//mark - Franny and Zooey | J.D. Salinger, 1961

J.D. Salinger, 1950                                                                             Franny and Zooey, 1961

"I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I'm sick of myself 
and everybody else that wants to make some kind of a splash.”

“I'm sick of just liking people. I wish to God 
I could meet somebody I could respect.”

“I don't know what good it is to know so much and be smart as whips and
 all if it doesn't make you happy.”

“I love you to pieces, distraction, etc.”

“She was not one for emptying her face of expression. ”

“Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.”

“Bessie: 'Why don't you get married?'
Zooey: 'I like riding in trains too much. You never get to sit next to the 
window anymore when you're married.”

“Let's just try to have a marvelous time this weekend. I mean not try to analyze 
everything to death for once, if possible. Especially me. I love you.”

“We don't talk, we hold forth. We don't converse, we expound.”

"I just hope that one day–preferably when we’re both blind drunk–we can talk about it."

“I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody 
that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody
 interesting. It’s disgusting.”

“It's everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so — I don't know — not wrong, 
or even mean, or even stupid necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless 
and — sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something 
crazy like that, you're conforming just as much only in a different way.”

“You don't know how to talk to people you don't like. Don't love, really. 
You can't live in the world with such strong likes and dislikes.”

“In the first place, you’re way off when you start
 railing at things and people instead of at yourself. ”

“I don’t think it would have all got me quite so down if just once in a while—just once
 in a while—there was at least some polite little perfunctory implication that knowledge 
should lead to wisdom, and that if it doesn't, it's just a disgusting waste of time! But there 
never is! You never even hear any hints dropped on a campus that wisdom is supposed
 to be the goal of knowledge. You hardly ever even hear the word 'wisdom' mentioned!”

“An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, 
and on his own terms, not anyone else's.”

“And I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.”

“Listen, I don't care what you say about my race, creed, or religion, Fatty, but don't 
tell me I'm not sensitive to beauty. That's my Achilles' heel, and don't you forget it. 
To me, everything is beautiful. Show me a pink sunset, and I'm limp, by God. 
Anything. Peter Pan. Even before the curtain goes up at Peter Pan 
I'm a goddamn puddle of tears.”

“The Great Gatsby' [...] was my 'Tom Sawyer' when I was twelve [....]”

“It happens to be one of those days when I see everybody in the family,
including myself, through the wrong end of a telescope.”

“He says the only people he ever really wants to meet for a drink 
somewhere are all either dead or unavailable.”

“You're lucky if you get time to sneeze 
in this goddam phenomenal world.”

“The little girl on the plane
Who turned her doll's head around
To look at me.”

“We are, all four of us, blood relatives, and we speak a kind of esoteric, family 
language, a sort of semantic geometry in which the shortest distance between any 
two points is a fullish circle.”

“Sometimes I see me dead in the rain.”

“Why's it so sunny?" she repeated.
Zooey observed her rather narrowly. "I bring the sun 
wherever I go, buddy," he said.”

 J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey, 1961

"Franny" and Zooey were originally published separately in The New Yorker magazine. 
"Franny" appeared in the magazine in January 1955, and Zooey in May 1957. 
Salinger published "Franny" and Zooey together as a book in July 1961, through Little,
 Brown and Company, and dedicated the book to New Yorker editor William Shawn.


Alphabetarion # Desire | F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1922

Adam Diston, Child trying to cut a sunbeam, 1886  

 "You can't have anything, you can't have anything at all. Because desire 
just cheats you. It's like a sunbeam skipping here and there about a room. 
It stops and gilds some inconsequential object, and we poor fools try
 to grasp it - but when we do the sunbeam moves on to something else,
 and you've got the inconsequential part, but the glitter that made
 you want it is gone."

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned, 1922

Alphabetarion # Friends | Maria Callas, 1923-1977

Maria Callas, 1950s

“Real friends are very special, but you have to be careful because sometimes 
you have a friend and you think they are made of rock, then suddenly you 
realise they’re only made of sand.”

Maria Callas, 1923-1977

Nudes | Photos by Marcel Meys (1920-1930)

Marcel Meys, 1930
Marcel Meys, 1920                                                                                Marcel Meys, Nu sur le sable, 1930
Marcel Meys, 1920
Marcel Meys, 1930                                                               Marcel Meys, 1920s
Marcel Meys, 1930  


Alphabetarion # Failure | Bram Stoker, 1897

Joan Miró, Woman, Bird and Star [Homage to Picasso], 1966-73

 “We learn from failure, not from success!”

 Bram Stoker, Dracula, 1897


To a Skylark | Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1820

Samuel Palmer, The Skylark, 1850

Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
O'er which clouds are bright'ning,
Thou dost float and run;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.

The pale purple even
Melts around thy flight;
Like a star of Heaven,
In the broad day-light
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight,

Keen as are the arrows
Of that silver sphere,
Whose intense lamp narrows
In the white dawn clear
Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.

All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud,
As, when night is bare,
From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflow'd.

What thou art we know not;
What is most like thee?
From rainbow clouds there flow not
Drops so bright to see
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.

Like a Poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden,
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:

Like a high-born maiden
In a palace-tower,
Soothing her love-laden
Soul in secret hour
With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:

Like a glow-worm golden
In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden
Its aëreal hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:

Like a rose embower'd
In its own green leaves,
By warm winds deflower'd,
Till the scent it gives
Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-winged thieves:

Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkling grass,
Rain-awaken'd flowers,
All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.

Teach us, Sprite or Bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine:
I have never heard
Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

Chorus Hymeneal,
Or triumphal chant,
Match'd with thine would be all
But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

What objects are the fountains
Of thy happy strain?
What fields, or waves, or mountains?
What shapes of sky or plain?
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

With thy clear keen joyance
Languor cannot be:
Shadow of annoyance
Never came near thee:
Thou lovest: but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.

Waking or asleep,
Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep
Than we mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Yet if we could scorn
Hate, and pride, and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed a tear,
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, To a Skylark, 1820

First page of the original manuscript to "To a Skylark"

It was inspired by an evening walk in the country near Livorno, Italy, with his wife 
Mary Shelley, and describes the appearance and song of a skylark they come upon. 
Mary Shelley described the event that inspired Shelley to write "To a Skylark": 

"In the Spring we spent a week or two near Leghorn (Livorno) ... It was on a beautiful 
summer evening while wandering among the lanes whose myrtle hedges were the 
bowers of the fire-flies, that we heard the carolling of the skylark."

Alexander Mackie argued in 1906 that the poem, along with John Keats' 
"Ode to a Nightingale", "are two of the glories of English literature".

The Living Infinite | Jules Verne, 1870

Srihadi Soedarsono, Blue Horizon, 1978

"The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath 
is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for
 he feels life stirring on all sides. The sea is only the embodiment of a 
supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and 
emotion; it is the Living Infinite."

Jules Verne, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, 1870 


Children | Photos by Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris, 1963

Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Merry go round at Luxembourg Garden, Paris,1963                            Alfred Eisenstaedt, Children at a puppet theatre, Paris,1963
Alfred Eisenstaedt, Children at a puppet theatre, Paris, 1963


Fin de Copenhague (Goodbye to Copenhagen) | Asger Jorn & Guy Debord, 1957

"What do you want? Better and cheaper food? Lots of new clothes? A dream home with all the 
latest comforts and labour saving devices? A new car . . . a motor launch . . . a light aircraft 
of your own? Whatever you want, it's coming your way - plus greater leisure for enjoying it
 all. With electronics, automation and nuclear energy, we are entering on the new Industrial
 Revolution which will supply our every need, easily . . . quickly . . . cheaply . . . abundantly."

Fin de Copenhague (Goodbye to Copenhagen)  | Asger Jorn & Guy Debord, 1957

The book ends with the text:

"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Tell us in not more than 250 words 
why your girl is the sweetest girl in town."


Fin de Copenhague is the product of a collaboration between Guy Debord and Asger Jorn immediately
 preceding the foundation of the Situationist International. “The book was printed within 24 hours as
 an artistic experiment. Having just arrived in Copenhagen, Jorn and Debord rushed into a newsagents,
 stole a huge amount of magazines and newspapers, and spent a drunken afternoon collaging elements
 together. The next day they arrived at the printer with 32 collages, which were transferred to
 lithographic plates. Jorn then sat at the top of a ladder over the zinc plates, dropping cup after 
cup of Indian ink onto them. The plates were then etched and printed over the black texts and
images.” (Bruun Rasmussen). The book was produced by legendary printer of avant-garde 
movements Permild & Rosengreen, whom Jorn and other COBRA artists had trusted with 
several of their works.


A Particular tenderness | George Sand to Gustave Flaubert, 1866

George Sand (1804 – 1876)                                                   Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880)

"… but I have a particular tenderness for you, and 
one I have never felt for anyone, up to now." 

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert, 11 November, 1866 


Book//mark - 4.48 Psychosis | Sarah Kane, 1999

Sarah Kane, 4.48 Psychosis, 1999                                                                                     Sarah Kane, 1971-1999

“It is myself I have never met.”

“I am jealous of my sleeping lover and cover his induced unconsciousness.”

"Everything perishes.”

“I need to become who I already am.”

"Tired of crowd searching, telepathy and hope."

"Depression is anger. It's what you did, who was there and who you're blaming.”

"The heart is going out of me, and though she cannot remember she cannot forget.”

“But I am not here and never have been.”

“They will love me for that which destroys me.”

“Please open the curtains.”

"Touching her absence, the flux of her heart, the splash of her smile.”

"My thought walks away with a killing smile.”

"I have been dead for a long time.”

“Embrace beautiful lies - the chronic insanity of the sane.”

“Your disbelief cures nothing.”

“Drowning in a sea of logic this monstrous state of palsy.”

"The cold black pit of my immaterial mind.”

 "Nothing can fill this void in my heart.”

"I like you and you can’t like someone who doesn’t like themself.”

"All I know is snow and black despair.”

"Fuck you God for making me love a person who does not exist.”

“Here I am and there is my body dancing on glass.”

“I cannot touch my essential self.”

" I sing without hope on the boundary."

Sarah Kane, 4.48 Psychosis, 1999

The title derives from the time—4:48 a.m.—when Kane, in her depressed state, 
frequently woke in the morning.


Stereosc2pe + | Confession | Jean-Paul Belmondo / Ann-Sofie Kylin, 1961, 1970

Jean-Pierre Melville: Léon Morin, Priest (1961) - Jean-Paul Belmondo
Roy Andersson, A Swedish Love Story (1970) - Ann-Sofie Kylin

J[A-Z]Z / p1ck ( Mingus at the Bohemia | Charles Mingus, 1956

Charles Mingus – Mingus At The Bohemia, 1956

Charles Mingus - Septemberly  
"Septemberly" is Mingus' compositional combination of "September in the Rain" 
by Dubin and Warren, and "Tenderly" by Gross and Lawrence.

Recorded at Café Bohemia, New York City
December 23, 1955
Released in August 1956

George Barrow - tenor saxophone
Eddie Bert - trombone
Mal Waldron - piano
Charles Mingus - double bass 
Max Roach - drums

Mingus at the Bohemia has also been released under the title Chazz!
 and credited to The Charles Mingus Quintet

Depression / Guilt / Expectations / Repression / Affirmation / Self-confidence / Independency | Alice Miller, 1978

 Sophie Taeuber-Arp, Shells and Flowers , 1938

“Depression as Denial of the Self Depression consists of a denial of one’s own emotional reactions.
 This denial begins in the service of an absolutely essential adaptation during childhood and indicates 
a very early injury. There are many children who have not been free, right from the beginning, to
 experience the very simplest of feelings, such as discontent, anger, rage, pain, even hunger—and,
 of course, enjoyment of their own bodies.”

“Tragic and painful state of being separated from his true self, to which doctors
 refer offhandedly as depression.”

“Many people suffer all their lives from this oppressive feeling of guilt, the sense of not having lived up to their parent's expectations. 
This feeling is stronger than any intellectual insight they might have, that it is not a child's task or duty to satisfy his parent's needs.”

“In such cases the natural needs appropriate to the child’s age cannot be integrated, so they are repressed or split off. 
This person will later live in the past without realizing it and will continue to react to past dangers as if they were present. 
People who have asked for my assistance because of their depression have usually had to deal with a mother who was 
extremely insecure and who often suffered from depression herself. The child, most often an only child or the first-born, 
was seen as the mother’s possession. What the mother had once failed to find in her own mother she was able to find 
in her child: someone at her disposal who could be used as an echo and could be controlled, who was completely centered 
on her, would never desert her, and offered her full attention and admiration. If the child’s demands became too great 
(as those of her own mother once did), she was no longer so defenseless: she could refuse to allow herself to be tyrannized;
 she could bring the child up in such a way that he neither cried nor disturbed her. At last she could make sure 
that she received consideration, care, and respect.”

“This role secured “love” for the child—that is, his parents’ exploitation. He could sense that 
he was needed, and this need guaranteed him a measure of existential security.”

“Behind manifest grandiosity, there constantly lurks depression, and behind a depressive mood there
 often hide unconscious (or conscious but split off) fantasies of grandiosity. In fact, grandiosity is 
the defense against depression, and depression is the defense against the deep pain over the loss
 of the self.”

“Most people do exactly the opposite. Without realizing that the past is constantly determining their present actions,
 they avoid learning anything about their history. They continue to live in their repressed childhood situation, ignoring
 the fact that it no longer exists. They are continuing to fear and avoid dangers that, although once real, have not been real 
for a long time. They are driven by unconscious memories and by repressed feelings and needs that determine nearly
 everything they do or fail to do. The repression of brutal abuse experienced during childhood drives many
 people to destroy their lives and the lives of others”

“Individuals who do not want to know their own truth collude in denial with society as a whole,
 looking for a common "enemy" on whom to act out their repressed rage. ”

“[The mutually dependent child] cannot rely on his own emotions, has not come to experience them through trial
 and error, has no sense of his own real needs, and is alienated from himself to the highest degree. Under these
 circumstances he cannot separate from his parents, and even as an adult he is still dependent on affirmation from 
his partner, from groups, and especially from his own children. Unless the heir casts off his 'inheritance' by becoming fully
 conscious of his true past, and thus of his true nature, loneliness in the parental home will necessarily be followed 
by an adulthood lived in emotional isolation.”

“And yet the truth is so essential that its loss exacts a heavy toll, in the form of grave illness.”

“Even as an older child, she was not allowed to say, or even to think: “I can be sad or happy whenever
 anything makes me sad or happy; I don’t have to look cheerful for someone else, and I don’t have to
 suppress my distress or anxiety to fit other people’s needs. I can be angry and no one will die or 
get a headache because of it. I can rage when you hurt me, without losing you.”

“The once-beaten children still living inside adults often fear being punished if they dare to truly SEE, without illusions, 
what their parents did to them in their first years of life. Once they understand that this danger
 no longer exists, they can liberate their life.”

“Accommodation to parental needs often (but not always) leads to the “as-if personality.” This person
 develops in such a way that he reveals only what is expected of him and fuses so completely with 
what he reveals that one could scarcely guess how much more there is to him behind this false self.”

“It is most noticeable when they describe childhood experiences that were free of pain and fear. They could enjoy 
their encounters with nature, for example, without hurting the mother or making her feel insecure, reducing her
 power, or endangering her equilibrium. It is remarkable how these attentive, lively, and sensitive children, who can, 
for example, remember exactly how they discovered the sunlight in bright grass at the age of four, at eight were unable 
to “notice anything” or show any curiosity about their pregnant mother, or were “not at all” jealous at the birth of a sibling. 
It is also remarkable how, at the age of two, such a child could be left alone and “be good” while soldiers forced 
their way into the house and searched it, suffering the terrifying intrusion quietly and without crying. These people have
 all developed the art of not experiencing feelings, for a child can experience her feelings only when there is somebody
 there who accepts her fully, understands her, and supports her. If that person is missing, if the child must risk losing
 the mother’s love or the love of her substitute in order to feel, then she will repress her emotions. She cannot even
 experience them secretly, “just for herself”; she will fail to experience them at all. But they will nevertheless
 stay in her body, in her cells, stored up as information that can be triggered by a later event.”

“Often a child's very gifts (his great intensity of feeling, depth of experience, curiosity, intelligence,
 quickness-and his ability to be critical) will confront his parents with conflicts that they have long
 sought to keep at bay by means of rules and regulations. These regulations must then be rescued
 at the cost of the child's development. All of this can lead to an apparently paradoxical situation 
when parents are proud of their gifted child and who admire him are forced by their own 
repression to reject, suppress, or even destroy what is best, because truest, in that child.”

“The child within me...appeared...late in life, wanting to tell me her secret. She approached very hesitantly, 
speaking first to me in an inarticulate way, but she took me by the hand and led me into territory I had been avoiding 
all my life because it frightened me. Yet I had to go there; I could not keep on turning my back, for it was my territory,
 my very own. It was the place I had attempted to forget so many years ago, the same place where I had abandoned the
 child I once was. There she had to stay, alone with her knowledge, waiting until someone would come at last to listen
 to her and believe her. Now I was standing at an open door, ill-prepared, filled with an adult's fear of the darkness
 and menace of the past, but I could not bring myself to close the door and leave the child alone again until my death.
 Instead, I made a decision that was to change my life profoundly; to let the child lead me, to put my trust in
 this nearly autistic being who had survived the isolation of decades.”

Alice Miller, Prisoners Of Childhood: The Drama of the Gifted Child and the Search for the True Self, 1978

"When I used the word 'gifted' in the title, I had in mind neither children who receive high grades in
 school nor children talented in a special way. I simply meant all of us who have survived an 
abusive childhood thanks to an ability to adapt even to unspeakable cruelty by becoming
 numb.... Without this 'gift' offered us by nature, we would not have survived."

Alice Miller
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