30 March 2012

Too many reasons ...

“Study me as much as you like, you will not know me, for I differ in a hundred ways from what you see me to be. Put yourself behind my eyes and see me as I see myself, for I have chosen to dwell in a place you cannot see.”



One Mind's Eye ft. Elsieanne - Shiva

28 March 2012

Collected Stories ...

“I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born."

 Jack Kerouac

Yothu Yindi - Gapu

27 March 2012

Never after ...

"We choose to shelter ourselves from hurt and disappointment,

when we reach out to the soul of one's mind,

were translating our own needs ...

the need to be heard an understood ,

one, on the level of deep and intriguing thinking ...

should not necessarily be reaching for the stars ...

but a moment in time to touch intensely ,

to love immensely,

to hope for infinity.”    

Deeann Elizabeth Pavlick

The Black Brunswicker by John Everett Millais (1860)

26 March 2012

Metaphors ...

“I always thought of it like you said, that all the strings inside him broke. But there are a thousand ways to look at it: maybe the strings break, or maybe our ships sink, or maybe we’re grass — our roots so interdependent that no one is dead as long as someone is alive. We don’t suffer from a shortage of metaphors, this is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters. If you choose the strings, then you’re imagining a world in which you can become irreparably broken. If you choose the grass, you’re saying that we are all infinitely interconnected, that we can use these root systems not only to understand one another but to become one another.
The metaphors have implications.
Do you know what I mean?”

John Green

24 March 2012

Fragments ...

“You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.” 

Pablo Neruda

Homebase (Cafe del Mar Vol.6)

22 March 2012

Into the night ...

“I want to see you.

Know your voice.

Recognize you when you
first come 'round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come
into a room you've just left.

Know the lift of your heel,
the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way
you purse your lips
then let them part,
just the slightest bit,
when I lean in to your space
and kiss you.

I want to know the joy
of how you whisper


18 March 2012

Who knows about tomorrow ...

“You have to take risks, he said. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen. Every day, God gives us the sun--and also one moment in which we have the ability to change everything that makes us unhappy. Every day, we try to pretend that we haven't perceived that moment, that it doesn't exist--that today is the same as yesterday and will be the same as tomorrow. But if people really pay attention to their everyday lives, they will discover that magic moment. It may arrive in the instant when we are doing something mundane, like putting our front-door key in the lock; it may lie hidden in the quiet that follows the lunch hour or in the thousand and one things that all seem the same to us. But that moment exists--a moment when all the power of the stars becomes a part of us and enables us to perform miracles.”

Paulo Coelho

Firewind - World On Fire

14 March 2012

The Character Heads by Franz Xaver Messerschmidt

Franz Xaver Messerschmidt was a German-Austrian sculptor (February 6, 1736 – August 19, 1783) he was born in southwestern Germany and his most famous work is a collection of busts with faces contorted in extreme facial expressions called Character Heads.

Messerschmidt was headed for a career at the Habsburg court in Vienna until he had a "psychotic break" that denied him advancement and sent him deep inside himself to explore his own (and often extreme) emotional states, which he sculpted in marble, carved in alabaster or cast in lead alloy. Around 1771, as his health apparently deteriorated, he started working on his "character heads", using himself as a model. He created a series of heads with grimacing faces. Collectively, Messerschmidt's "heads" display a range of emotions and, although they are not self-portraits, many resemble the artist.

It is said,  to produce these works, the artist would look into the mirror, pinching his body and contorting his face. He then rendered with great precision his distorted expressions. Messerschmidt is known to have produced more than 60 of these astonishing works before he died in 1783 at the age of 47.

It’s been recorded that Messerschmidt was interested in the ‘golden ratio’ and believed that his heads angered the ‘spirit of proportion’ who guarded this knowledge. As a result of this anger, he believed the spirit visited him at night and tortured him. This all sounds fairly delusional, but another explanation could be that perhaps he was just a sufferer of sleep paralysis (hypnogogia).

What happened to him ? 
The distortion of the faces seem to reflect the unresolved conflict between his id and his ego, indicating the distorting effect the id has on the ego, and the pressure the id puts on the ego that can lead to its collapse - the ego you lose when you psychotically break with reality and imagine yourself to be persecuted by demons. Messerschmidt could not find a socially and artistically respectable way of containing his id, which is why the expressions on the faces of his character heads seem disrespectful and anti-social, in some cases provocative. 

His madness proved to be strangely liberating. Leaving cosmopolitan Vienna for his provincial hometown. He began to make art that was true to himself, art that was as mad as he was. Returning to the place of his birth, he was reborn as an artist, a strange one, no doubt, but no longer a stranger to himself, as well as a person. He had become authentic, socially as well as artistically, someone wearing an unpretentious hat rather than a self-glorifying wig.  Sculpting his mad face, the face he found when he lost face, when he was stripped of his social mask, when his star had fallen, he became a True Self. His demons were now his muses, and he made the creative best of them by portraying them. He had to, because they never disappeared from his mirror. The faces constantly changed, but they all looked inward, fascinated by their own madness. Messerschmidt took pleasure from his madness, the pleasure he denied himself during his painful ascent to the social heights of art, the pleasure in life he forfeited when he aspired to become a great artist and be recognized as such by society, the pleasure that his ambition deprived him of, pleasure that finally became the strange pleasure of madness, for he seemed to enjoy making faces at himself.       

13 March 2012

Last sacrifice ...

“Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now.

Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know.

To live in this world you must be able to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”

Mary Oliver

Arvo Pärt - Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten

12 March 2012

Death always wins ...

"Then the child opened its eyes, and looked up into the angel's beautiful face, which beamed with happiness, and at the same moment they were in heaven, where joy and bliss reigned. The child received wings like the other angel, and they flew about together, hand in hand. "

Hans Christian Andersen

Rest in peace little angel ...

11 March 2012

All These Things I've Done ...

“When I was a girl I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars; I envied them so much. No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched.” 

Patch Adams

08 March 2012

Life belongs to the living ...

“Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That's part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that's where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in awhile, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you'll live forever in your own private library.” 

Haruki Murakami

Joe Henry - Struck

06 March 2012

The Isenheim Altar by Matthias Grünewald

Matthias Grünewald was a German artist that painted this altarpiece between 1510 and 1515 for the monastery of the Order of St. Anthony at Isenheim, in the Elzas near Colmar - north-eastern France. Today, the altar is on display at the Colmar Museum.

The altarpiece was often shown to people suffering from Saint Anthony's Fire , a painful skin disease. It was thought that the beauty of the art and the image of Christ's suffering would help the patients.

The interesting thing about this painting is  that it was unusual at the time to portray the figure of Christ as horribly twisted and mangled as it is here.

This is probably the most grotesque depiction of the Crucifixion in all of art. It is a dermatological vision of the Crucifixion. For the sick people praying in front of this image, it was Grünewald way to say - Christ suffered like you, but don't give up hope.

05 March 2012

Paper town ...

“Maybe its like you said before, all of us being cracked open. Like each of us starts out as a watertight vessel. And then things happen - these people leave us, or don’t love us, or don’t get us, or we don’t get them, and we lose and fail and hurt one another. And the vessel starts to crack in places. And I mean, yeah once the vessel cracks open, the end becomes inevitable. Once it starts to rain inside the Osprey, it will never be remodeled. But there is all this time between when the cracks start to open up and when we finally fall apart. And its only that time that we see one another, because we see out of ourselves through our cracks and into others through theirs. When did we see each other face to face? Not until you saw into my cracks and I saw into yours. Before that we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade, but never seeing inside. But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in. The light can get out.”

John Green

Separation by Edvard Munch - 1896

03 March 2012

Subconscious ...

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” 

Pablo Neruda

UKO - Sunbeams