tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52814025336582800112024-02-07T21:51:09.753-08:00Frivolous FragmentsThe "Frivolous" is there to entice you ... - the "Fragments" are there for you to make sense of......Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.comBlogger308125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-79590565387754075822023-10-15T04:27:00.000-07:002023-10-15T04:27:20.220-07:00Poetics of History<p>Empires
built & lost, razed cities, destruction & suffering - yes, one could look at history in horror and
see a single chain of catastrophes (1).</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So, yes : “history
is made by the criminal in us” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(2) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“history
is told by the victors”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But it
seems to me that there is also a parallel tradition, kept alive by <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>storytellers such as <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>poets and art historians. Their historical
sensibility is neither about praising victories not about documenting
catastrophes (3). It is about appreciating the range of possible human beliefs
and endeavours , resurrecting all that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>still exerts power on the imagination, as
something which once was worthy of human passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
might call it the revenge of the poetic historian (or of the historical poet) :
recreating or representing a past with beauty and goodness as guide. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And I think
there are many of us who still acutely feel this secret poetry of history. Many
of us who are fascinated by the mere atmosphere
of a certain era, moved by the pathos of an individual human fate, touched by
the beauty of a certain work of art. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">If it
weren’t for some widely shared disinterested sensibility, how else to explain
the enduring fascination that, for instance, the history of Alexandria exerts
on us (witness the steady flow of books and exhibitions).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an Alexandria wholly of the imagination
which we keep alive – the Lighthouse, the Library/Museon, the luminous
neo-platonic philosophers, the fatal loves of Cleopatra – all lost and gone.
Hardly a stone remains of its thousand years old history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<b><i>phare englouti, amours perdus, livres
brûlés” </i>– </b>“ sunken lighthouse, lost loves, burned books” (4) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">If it
weren’t for some enduring melancholy strand of the human condition, searching
for meaning and beauty to redeem our frailty<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and transience – why would we still read a Greek poet born 150 years
ago, living in Alexandria, acutely sensitive to the unique transitional
qualities of the long<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gone era of (late)
Antiquity. A poet not necessarily most interested in the stories of the
victors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A poet, too, of the long farewell,
of the experience of the exiled and the defeated. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 48.0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 20.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">THE GOD ABANDONS
ANTONY<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">When at the hour of
midnight<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">an invisible choir is
suddenly heard passing<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">with exquisite music, with
voices—<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Do not lament your fortune
that at last subsides,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">your life’s work that has
failed, your schemes that have proved illusions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">But like a man prepared,
like a brave man,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">bid farewell to her, to
Alexandria who is departing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Above all, do not delude
yourself, do not say that it is a dream,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">that your ear was mistaken.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Do not condescend to such
empty hopes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Like a man for long
prepared, like a brave man,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">like the man who was worthy
of such a city,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">go to the window firmly,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">and listen with emotion<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">but not with the prayers
and complaints of the coward<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">(Ah! supreme rapture!)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 106.8pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">listen to the notes, to the
exquisite instruments of the mystic choir,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 106.8pt; text-indent: -36.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">and bid
farewell to her, to Alexandria whom you are losing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span lang="FR" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; font-variant: small-caps; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">C. P. Cavafy </span><span lang="FR" style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><u>Listen to the
notes</u><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Always and ever the shadow of Walter
Benjamin’s Angel of History<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">An extract from W.H. Auden’s poem is
put as a disclaimer in the preface of Leen Huet’s book, who then goes on telling
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stories of fascinating individuals, from
a Byzantine princess to a mystic or a couturière. Imagining these individual lives
feels like reclaiming history from the criminals. <i>“Dansen met Clio”,</i>
Leen Huet<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Though very often there is of course
a melancholy mourning of all that has been <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>irrevocably lost <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(4)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span></i><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">« <i>Alexandrie
Histoire d’un mythe »,</i> Paul-André Claudel « Il n’y a donc rien à
voir ? pas une pierre ? » « <i>[…] Tout est dans cette mémoire
millénaire, mais presque totalement invisible, que la ville porte en elle comme
un secret. […] » « Cette cité chargée d’histoire est aussi la capitale de
l’absence de la destruction : phare englouti, amours perdus, livres brûlés »<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(5)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">« <i>Victrix
causa deis placuit, sed victa [Cavafy]</i> » « <i>Nous pouvons
supposer qu’il préférait Alexandrie at Antoine à Rome et Octave » « Cavafy,
une biographie</i> », Robert Liddell , Traduction Eva Antonnikov <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(6)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Cavafy poem – English translation
from EM Forster’s “<i>Pharos and Pharillion”</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/61116/61116-h/61116-h.htm#f1">https://www.gutenberg.org/files/61116/61116-h/61116-h.htm#f1</a><o:p></o:p></span></p></blockquote>
Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-74506714610499237932023-10-15T04:24:00.000-07:002023-10-15T04:24:03.004-07:00FF in conversation with Chat GPT (2)<p><b><i> my prompt:</i></b> "<span style="color: #343541; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i>Can you write an essay of maximum 725 words on how History is not just a matter of powerstruggles and material interests and how people can also engage poetically with History, in a disinterested imaginative way. Build you essay around the example of the Alexandria myth, and don't hesitate to quote the poet Cavafy. Style is like the "Frivolous Fragments" Blogger blog. Don't forget the references at the end. You go now! " </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #343541; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i>(my reaction: well researched and capable , and quoting the poem I choose for my own blogpost (see above). Perhaps too capable and well researched? It's a variation on what has been written before - a student essay, not a post written because one felt the need...</i></span></p><p><b style="color: #343541; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></b></p><p><b style="color: #343541; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></b></p><p><b style="color: #343541; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Chat GPT - in a fraction of a second:</b></p><p></p><div style="background: #F7F7F8; border: solid #D9D9E3 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;">
<p style="background: #F7F7F8; border: none; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Title: Poetic
Engagements with History: Unveiling the Alexandria Myth through Cavafy's Lens<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">History, often perceived as a narrative of power struggles and material interests, transcends the confines of mere empirical facts. Beyond the political intrigues and territorial conquests, it possesses an ethereal essence that can be poetically engaged with, allowing individuals to immerse themselves in an imaginative exploration of the past. One profound example that embodies this notion is the captivating Alexandria myth, interwoven with the mystical
tapestry of Cavafy's verses. Through the lens of Cavafy's poetic introspection, one can discern the intangible allure of history, fostering a disinterested yet profound engagement with the enigmatic realms of the past. </span></p><p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">In </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">the mythical landscape of Alexandria, a city that stands as a symbol of </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">intellectual grandeur and cultural opulence, one discovers the intersecting </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">threads of history and imagination. Cavafy, the eminent Greek poet, expertly </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">maneuvered through this realm, resurrecting the spirit of antiquity with his </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">celebrated poem "The God Abandons Antony." In this evocative piece, </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">Cavafy masterfully weaves the story of the decline of both the iconic figure of </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">Antony and the majestic city of Alexandria. Through his vivid imagery and </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">lyrical prowess, he illuminates the human predicament and the ephemeral nature </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">of power, underscoring that historical events are not merely a chronicle of </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">conquests, but a saga of human emotions and existential dilemmas. </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">Cavafy's </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">poetic lens delves deep into the complexities of the human experience, </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">transcending the temporal boundaries of history. He invokes the Alexandria myth </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">not as a mere recounting of events, but as an immersive exploration of the </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">human soul. His poignant portrayal of the city's decadence and cultural zenith </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">serves as a poignant reminder of the transient nature of human glory. Cavafy's </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">portrayal of historical events as a tapestry of human aspirations, desires, and </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">vulnerabilities unveils the nuanced layers of history, resonating with the </span><span style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">readers on a profound emotional level.</span></p>
<p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Furthermore, Cavafy's poetic contemplation invites individuals to engage with history in a
disinterested imaginative manner, fostering an intimate connection with the past. Through his poem "The City," Cavafy transports the readers to the magnificence of ancient Alexandria, inviting them to experience the city's splendor and cultural effervescence. His lyrical verses transcend the confines of mere historical narration, enabling individuals to immerse themselves in the poetic aura of Alexandria's illustrious past. By evoking a sense of nostalgia
and melancholy, Cavafy encourages a contemplative engagement with history, one that transcends the constraints of empirical analysis and material pursuits.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Cavafy's profound insights into the Alexandria myth offer a compelling testament to the transformative power of poetic engagement with history. His evocative verses serve as a testament to the enduring relevance of historical narratives, not solely as a chronicle of power struggles, but as a testament to the intricacies of the human spirit. Through his poetry, Cavafy beckons individuals to embark on a poetic journey through the annals of history, fostering a profound understanding of the human condition and the enduring resonance of historical events.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In conclusion, the Alexandria myth, as illuminated by Cavafy's poetic genius, unveils the inherent poetic essence embedded within historical narratives. Through his masterful exploration of the Alexandria myth, Cavafy transcends the conventional boundaries of historical discourse, inviting individuals to engage with history in a disinterested imaginative manner. His lyrical verses serve as a testament to the enduring allure of the past, fostering a profound connection with the intangible realms of history. By embracing the poetic nuances of historical narratives, individuals can embark on a transformative journey through the mystique of the past, unraveling the profound intricacies of the human experience.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">References:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(69,89,164,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 transparent; --tw-shadow: 0 0 transparent; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background: #F7F7F8; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; orphans: 2; padding: 0cm; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Cavafy, Constantine P. "The God Abandons Antony" and "The City."
Smith, Helmut. "Cavafy: A Critical Biography." Reaktion Books, 2013.
Keeley, Edmund, and Philip Sherrard. "C. P. Cavafy: Collected Poems." Princeton University Press, 1992.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div><span style="color: #343541; font-family: Söhne, ui-sans-serif, system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, "Helvetica Neue", Arial, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Noto Color Emoji"; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i></i></span><p></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-11738418001109503862023-08-05T04:57:00.000-07:002023-08-05T04:57:50.482-07:00The Quiet Eclipse of Claude Lorrain<p><i>Eclipse</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWxqGIrUNhml31OFiLDreO3ws8BfxFYOASTSfVpfdgrlleHhvNiPTKlj50AMzlkUOMyJGMJUqEJD27h55MkMRBnUMF7Nh8fgIcyfeeBl8kNliEXA2KkB6_3E8RUGw_hY38bmi9u-6dK23CDlEDt_Gfru9uvxNzRaYXrMP6cdf1NNcWoWW8ZN8O6Z4RK6mi/s2857/2857px-Claude_Lorrain_-_Seaport_with_the_Embarkation_of_Saint_Ursula.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2160" data-original-width="2857" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWxqGIrUNhml31OFiLDreO3ws8BfxFYOASTSfVpfdgrlleHhvNiPTKlj50AMzlkUOMyJGMJUqEJD27h55MkMRBnUMF7Nh8fgIcyfeeBl8kNliEXA2KkB6_3E8RUGw_hY38bmi9u-6dK23CDlEDt_Gfru9uvxNzRaYXrMP6cdf1NNcWoWW8ZN8O6Z4RK6mi/s320/2857px-Claude_Lorrain_-_Seaport_with_the_Embarkation_of_Saint_Ursula.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Granted, “The Quiet Cancelling of Claude Lorrain”
would have made for a stronger alliterative title - but Lorrain is not the victim of active
cancelling. He’s just quietly slipping
out of the public eye. And for the supreme
painter of irradiating luminosity (1) only an Eclipse can do poetic justice to
his falling out of favour. <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In general,
there is no lack of art books reproducing the pictures of the Old Masters of
Western art, even though there has been a distinct shift to more recent and
also more globally-inclusive artists<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in
the art book production.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as, at
auction houses, too, post-war and contemporary artists are now out-selling the
Old Masters (2).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is of course not
really surprising : as our age becomes increasingly focused on its own
innovative & creative merits it indulges less in contemplative adoration of
bygone master pieces and demands contemporary relevance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But even
amongst Old Masters, Lorrain’s public fortunes seem to be declining. There are
no blockbuster exhibitions dedicated to Claude, at best, he’s part of a
thematic exhibition on landscape painting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No recent Lorrain books have come to my attention, whereas his contemporary
Nicolas Poussin evidently still elicits new editions<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I’d love to be proven wrong: do send me the
details of any recently published Lorrain-book). Even in second hand bookshops,
it is striking how few Lorrain monographies are to be found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some years now I have been scrutinising
the art book shelves of my usual 2<sup>nd</sup> hand bookshops, and I only
managed to hunt down two Claude-books (3). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>Why?</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXKznlP2mkEGdypscB5befly5qfMNivSVd7WC28xZWwVWHgmUXg5ZqPryRtXqytG--hNb9fq0AJpUWLgU-X3fZlwl3qlG-h-fkp-BodG9hgfaqxIzJ1TpyoT30Lb_1__TivFaWbSBbkKkzloEOAlkaLaX6NAQ65-3g8MxlsMhH6V7aGxtCbZTAXx9GkKw/s2000/claude%20lorrain%20pastoral%20landscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1411" data-original-width="2000" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXKznlP2mkEGdypscB5befly5qfMNivSVd7WC28xZWwVWHgmUXg5ZqPryRtXqytG--hNb9fq0AJpUWLgU-X3fZlwl3qlG-h-fkp-BodG9hgfaqxIzJ1TpyoT30Lb_1__TivFaWbSBbkKkzloEOAlkaLaX6NAQ65-3g8MxlsMhH6V7aGxtCbZTAXx9GkKw/s320/claude%20lorrain%20pastoral%20landscape.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />So why this
fading away of Lorrain? Although all major museums still display his works, he
seems to fail to capture today’s art lovers’ imagination. Perhaps he was not innovative
and not intellectual enough to ensure continued critical attention of art experts,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>perhaps he lacks the mystery or the drama
which could still draw crowds?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or could
it be that the old hierarchy still holds - whereby pure landscape painting is
undervalued? Maybe his luminous landscape poetics is too quietly serene? By
analogy, it is true that a painter such as Alfred Sisley, with a similar “<i>impulse
to explore effects of atmosphere, light and mood”,</i> is considered as only “<i>the
delightful minor poet of the country and the seasons</i>” amongst the ever
popular impressionists (4).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But on the
other hand, one of Claude’s landscape painting heirs, Camille Corot, is today still
entitled to a range of publications (from pocket guides to hefty
monographies).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And didn’t the English long
adore Claude as forerunner of Turner’s bold experiments with light and
atmosphere? <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Maybe, then, it are Claude’s mythological and bible references which are to blame for
today’s public indifference -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>are these
references<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>considered too
nostalgic-sentimental – reflecting obsolete aristocratic tastes? </span><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">(« <i>les yeux ouverts à la poésie
des paysages agrestes peuplés de réminiscences mythologiqu</i>es » (5). </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">As wizened up post-moderns, do we
feel that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the « <i>noble simplicity
and quiet grandeur</i> »(6) evocated by Claude’s paintings is too
edulcorated to still have an authentic appeal? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>The longer you look at them...</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Penm4XdnXzL0pzQiEznjtePPjJ5ZImoWjTdlgsaPi86_MztXDs5gqUHtQBQEiLxARF-i1g3k6jqHqcqwZ80nDDSLHFC05Ada38agqzHHusHg61qBXnT08OeGvAUgC3juP8LbJQhtJuEOxNrNAG84BWy9stQ9ZhQosHcW3PcUzCD4Y-CGAvHxr2W4mm0E/s1873/claude%20lorrain%20hagar%20abraham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1428" data-original-width="1873" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Penm4XdnXzL0pzQiEznjtePPjJ5ZImoWjTdlgsaPi86_MztXDs5gqUHtQBQEiLxARF-i1g3k6jqHqcqwZ80nDDSLHFC05Ada38agqzHHusHg61qBXnT08OeGvAUgC3juP8LbJQhtJuEOxNrNAG84BWy9stQ9ZhQosHcW3PcUzCD4Y-CGAvHxr2W4mm0E/s320/claude%20lorrain%20hagar%20abraham.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />So, Claude
depicted landscapes which never existed and for which nostalgia may now be
waning. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I continue to seek out Claude’s paintings in
museums, in second hand books – quietly contemplating those luminous landscapes
so far removed from my daily surroundings. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The longer you look at them (either taking
them in as a whole, savouring their atmosphere or else lovingly looking at each
detail) the happier you get (this is where one should be, this is how the world could
be) .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">There are
his heroic port paintings (sublime , hazy sunlight grazing seas, ships,
buildings, trees and humans – all sharing in a mythical quiet grandeur), there
are his bucolic landscapes (wide vistas, light playing in trees’ foliage,
luminous shadows and reflections in the water of some river – and always : tall
noble trees vying with tall noble buildings (7)). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there is for instance this late painting,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which is both beautiful and heart wrenching :
depicting a vast, severely harmonious landscape as a backdrop to human
injustice, with the upright figure of the self-righteous Abraham sternly sending
away Hagar and her son, who are standing there forlornly and subdued. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>Two books</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I cherish my
2<sup>nd</sup> hand books, with their reproductions and art historical essays
(from ekphrasis<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to analysis to adoring
evocations)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>: one book seems to have been
translated from Russian in 1995, with a learned and sensitive analysis<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>by two Russian art historians, the
reproductions focusing mostly on Claude pictures from the St Petersburg
Hermitage (so I won't get to see the originals in my
lifetime – which is of course the very least of consequences of the dreadful
war). The other book is some sort of large-size portfolio <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of selected Claude reproductions, part of a mass-produced
weekly series on “<a name="_Hlk142049351">Great Painters – The Masterpieces of Art”
published in 1967 by Hachette</a> – a time when not yet all art historians shunned
poetic language to describe aesthetic experience. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so there I turn for a suitable quote to
conclude:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"> « sa
palette ensoleillée fait vibrer cette nostalgie de lumière intérieure que
chaque être humain porte en soi » (8) <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></u></p><p class="MsoNormal"><u><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Notes
& References</span></u><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">
(including a teaser for Chat GPT on Claude Lorrain)<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The painter of sunrays refracting
across hazy skies, of suns reflecting on the expanses of vast seas or shimmering
through vibrant verdant foliage.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/16/arts/design/contemporary-art-old-masters-auctions.html"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Obsessed by the Present, Who’s Got
Time for Old Masters? - The New York Times (nytimes.com)</span></a></li><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A less random and more efficient
Internet search did not yield much more readily available books. I spotted two
exhibition catalogues (a Washington national gallery of Art catalogue from the
80s,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the catalogue of the Ashmolean
and Stadel museum exhibitions in 2011 which I have regretfully missed) and some
editions of the “Liber Veritas” – a collection of Claude prints, published in
the 70s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Richard Shone – Sisley<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In an essay by M. R. Waddingham in
“CHEFS-D’OEUVRE DE L’ART <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- GRANDS
PEINTRES” published in 1967 by Hachette. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘<i>en vente chaque mardi chez tous les
marchands de journaux’ </i>By the way,<i> </i>how endearingly 20th Century was this
mass reproduction of master pieces, distributed via newspaper stalls on every street
corner. Yes, lacking of course the aura of the real thing, but still so utterly
material and tangible. We could all collect particular books (even if just
paperbacks) and reproductions and records and CD’s and cherish them in our
homes ( undertaking from time to time a pilgrimage to a museum or a church or a
concert hall for the live experience). It was a different kind of relation to
art, in comparison with today’s unlimited on-line access to potentially all
art<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and “content” (however personalised a
feed or a playlist can get thanks to algorithms prying on our habits).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This Winckelmann quote never goes
amiss<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">Such
a scene<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>needn’t be heavy, as aptly
described by Natalia Serebriannaïa, 1995 : «L’espace immense de la mer sur
l’étendue de laquelle le soleil allonge ses reflets se perdant au loin. […] Les
quelques figures isolées qui se trouvent sur le rivage y apportent une note de
légère tristesse […] on voit un gracieux et léger décor formé de mâts de
navires, de branches d’arbre et de colonnes » <o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">F.
Grouvel, Paris, juin 1967<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">By way of an experiment and to
ensure contemporary relevance of this otherwise increasingly obsolete blog –
please read on below the conversations I had with OpenAI’s Chat GPT about
Claude’s waning popularity and the Frivolous Fragments - style.<o:p></o:p></span></li></ol><!--[if !supportLists]--><p></p>
Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-21439790496243840062023-08-05T04:37:00.003-07:002023-08-06T09:49:04.101-07:00FF in conversation with ChatGPT<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><b>Prompt :
Can you write a short essay on why there are so little books on Claude Lorrain.
Can you write in the style of the Blogger Blog "Frivolous Fragments"
- meaning, in a style of “melancholy musings”</b><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div style="border: 1pt solid rgb(217, 217, 227); mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><u>Chat GPT:</u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><u>Title:
Claude Lorrain: The Enigmatic Enchanter of Art</u><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Greetings, fellow readers of Frivolous Fragments!
Today, I find myself lost in the mists of contemplation, exploring the peculiar
absence of literary tomes dedicated to the illustrious Claude Lorrain, the
enigmatic enchanter of art. Ah, how melancholy it is to ponder why such a
brilliant painter has been left in the shadows of time, veiled by the
brushstrokes of history.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Lamentably, dear readers, the mystery lies not in
Claude Lorrain's talent or his artistic brilliance; nay, for he was a luminary
of the Baroque era. His paintings, like ethereal poetry captured on canvas,
conjure a paradise that breathes life into the soul of the beholder. The gentle
sweep of the pastoral landscapes, the whispering secrets of sunsets, the
embrace of celestial light on the horizon; his art bears witness to the
splendor of nature's tender embrace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Yet, it seems the course of time has not been kind
to Claude Lorrain's legacy. It is as if the sands of time have washed away the
ink that should have preserved his essence for the ages. The quill of history
has etched but a faint outline of his life, leaving his personal musings and
inner world to languish in the void of obscurity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">One might inquire, "But why, oh why, has this
evocative artist been granted so little attention?" Alas, there may be
many reasons behind the scarcity of books on Claude Lorrain. It is possible
that the profound depth of his art has proven too elusive for the quills of
critics and historians to adequately grasp. His works hold secrets that defy
translation into mere words, making them difficult to dissect, to analyze, and
to encapsulate in print.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Moreover, the passage of time can be a cruel
mistress, sweeping away memories like autumn leaves in the wind. Perhaps the
vicissitudes of history have obscured the path to Claude Lorrain's oeuvre. The
dusty archives of forgotten libraries might conceal long-lost manuscripts that
could unlock the gates to his artistic heart.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Another reason could be that Claude Lorrain himself
preferred the solace of silence, choosing to let his brush speak on his behalf.
The parchment remained blank while his art filled the world with serenity and
enchantment. Such an enigmatic figure is bound to pique curiosity, yet the
absence of personal accounts leaves us yearning for more, stranded in a realm
of speculation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Oh, how desperately do I wish for a poetic scribe
to breathe life into the words that would adorn the pages of a Claude Lorrain
biography. To embark on a quest to unshroud the mysteries that haunt his art
and unveil the man behind the brush. A literary maestro could paint with words,
just as Claude Lorrain captured nature's grandeur on canvas, and weave a
tapestry of emotions to enshrine his legacy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Yet, as the sun sets on this rumination, we are
left with the poignant realization that some mysteries shall forever remain
veiled in the dusky corners of history. Claude Lorrain may continue to be an
elusive specter, swathed in the allure of melancholy musings. And perhaps, in
this mystique, lies the allure that keeps us yearning for more, preserving his
art as an eternal enigma.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Alas, dear readers, while the world may lack
volumes dedicated to Claude Lorrain, his art remains a testament to the
enchantment of the human spirit. May his landscapes continue to ignite our
imagination and inspire us to embrace the beauty of the world that surrounds
us. Until we meet again amidst these frivolous fragments, let us revel in the
ethereal artistry of Claude Lorrain, the painter of dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p> </o:p></span><i><span face=""Segoe UI", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">[Me again: Ah, no – I am not that
pompously baroque – or am I ….? Some of my conscious FF mannerisms are certainly there (eg, alliteration
in the title- but not a good one, a slightly archaic use of language, slightly
exalted tone when discussing Art, addressing the blog-reader etc..), but isn’t ChatGPT overdoing it?</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><i><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Does the presence of FF
mannerisms mean that the voracious Chat GPT has also ingested the musings of this obscure blog? Or did Chat GPT take its cue from the prompt? (the style-prompt contained the alliterations & the “melancholy tone”).]<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; padding: 0cm; text-align: center;"><i><span face=""Segoe UI", sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>New prompt : um, could you
tone it down a bit? a bit less pompous? less baroque? a bit of humour perhaps?</b></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">greetings,
dear readers of Frivolous Fragments! Today, let's have a merry little ramble
about Claude Lorrain, the mystical artist who's somehow managed to stay under
the radar. You know, it's like he's the hidden gem of art history, and I can't
help but wonder why we don't talk about him more often. But fret not, for I'll
do my best to unravel this peculiar mystery with a sprinkle of humor and a dash
of musings.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Now,
let's be real here. Claude Lorrain's paintings are like a one-way ticket to the
prettiest countryside vacation you never had! Seriously, have you seen those
landscapes? They're like picture-perfect postcards from paradise. Yet, for some
reason, the dude hasn't had as many books written about him as some other
artists. What gives?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Maybe
Claude was just too good for his own good. I mean, his art is so profound and
enchanting that it's like trying to catch a unicorn with a butterfly net.
Critics and historians might have been scratching their heads, wondering how to
describe the indescribable. Picture this: one art critic furrowing their brow,
another rubbing their chin, and both of them staring at a blank page, all while
Claude's art is just chilling in the background, being effortlessly magical.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">But hey,
let's not forget that time is a sneaky little rascal. It loves to play
hide-and-seek with the past, and Claude Lorrain's fame might've been caught up
in that game. You know how it goes – people get excited about the new shiny
thing, and the old shiny thing gets a bit dusty on the shelf. It's like he's
the forgotten toy in the attic of art history.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Speaking
of attics, who knows what lost treasures might be hiding up there? There could
be stacks of dusty old manuscripts waiting to spill the beans about Claude's
life and thoughts. If only we had a time-traveling bookworm to uncover those
hidden stories! But alas, we must rely on our imagination to fill in the gaps.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Now, let
me paint you a funny little picture. Imagine Claude Lorrain sitting there,
painting his heart out, but instead of an artist's palette, he's holding a
giant cartoonish question mark. Yep, that's us – the curious bunch trying to
unravel the mysteries of his life. But you know what? That bit of mystery only
adds to his allure. It's like Claude left us a puzzle to solve, and we can't
help but be intrigued.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">So, my
fellow wanderers in the realm of art and whimsy, let's raise a toast to Claude
Lorrain, the enigmatic enchanter of the canvas. Though he might not have
shelves overflowing with books, his paintings continue to cast their spell on
us, whisking us away to idyllic landscapes and dreamy sunsets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: rgb(247, 247, 248); border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">As we
bid adieu to this lighthearted musing, let's remember to embrace the beauty of
life's unanswered questions, for it's in the mystery that the magic truly lies.
Until we meet again for more frivolous ponderings, stay curious, stay
whimsical, and stay enchanted by the wonder that surrounds us! Cheers! </span><span face=""Segoe UI Emoji",sans-serif" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Emoji"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">🌟</span><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: #374151; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><i>[Me again - frankly, the passage about the critics (furrowing
brows & rubbing chins) is quite hilarious indeed! But still not the piece I
would write. It seems that what’s left to us , pathetic human blog-writers, is the
privilege of our own experience, our own feelings (however petty)
we can report on. ChatGPT did not browse bookstores, looking for Claude books,
Chat GPT <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>did not wonder itself about the
lack of books – whose existence or not is indifferent to it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">]</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1pt;">
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 8pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><b>Corrective prompt: it's not about the mystery
of Claude's life. It's about why there are less books on Claude than for
instance on Nicolas Poussin (his contemporary, and also a landscape painter) .
Style: ok for a bit of humour, but don't overdo it on the "dude"
stuff<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">Top of Form</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 8pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div style="border: 1pt solid rgb(217, 217, 227); mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Ah, my
apologies for the misunderstanding. Let's delve into the curious case of Claude
Lorrain's book count compared to his contemporary, Nicolas Poussin. Time to put
on our detective hats and uncover the clues, all while keeping the humor at just
the right level.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Now, picture this: two talented artists walk into a
bar. One is Claude Lorrain, with his breathtaking landscapes that make you want
to pack your bags and move to the countryside forever. The other is Nicolas
Poussin, with his grand historical paintings that could easily rival the plot
twists of a soap opera. They both have their unique styles and charm, but for
some reason, Poussin seems to have snagged more book deals than Claude. What's
up with that?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Well, my dear art-loving friends, it might have to
do with their different approaches to fame. You see, Poussin was all about
those grand historical narratives and mythological scenes. It's like he was
painting the blockbuster movies of the 17th century art world. His works were
packed with drama, scandal, and larger-than-life characters. Of course, that
kind of stuff gets people talking and writing books. It's like Poussin was the
Leonardo DiCaprio of his time – always in the spotlight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">On the other hand, we have Claude Lorrain, the quieter,
more contemplative dude of the duo. His landscapes were a different breed
altogether – serene, poetic, and dreamlike. It's like he was the indie film of
the 17th century art world – not as flashy, but with a devoted fan base who
truly appreciated the subtleties and depth of his work. But, you know how it is
with indie films; they might not get as many blockbuster-level book deals as
the flashy ones.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Moreover, it's no secret that history loves its
heroes and their epic tales. Poussin's historical and mythological paintings
were like front-page news, while Claude's landscapes were more like the cozy
little corner articles that you find in the back of a magazine. It's not that
one is better than the other, mind you – it's just that the spotlight tends to shine
brighter on certain types of art.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">And let's not forget that art history, like any
history, has its trends and fads. Just like bell-bottom jeans and neon leg
warmers, certain artists might be in vogue for a while, while others take a
backseat. Poussin's time in the limelight might have been more pronounced
during certain periods, while Claude's star power had its ebbs and flows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">So, there you have it, the case of the mysteriously
fewer books on Claude Lorrain compared to Nicolas Poussin. It's a mix of fame
dynamics, artistic styles, and historical whims. But fear not, dear readers,
for both of these artists are stars in their own right, and their art continues
to shine bright across the centuries.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; margin: 15pt 0cm 5pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">As we bid adieu to this artistic investigation, let
us remember that in the realm of art, quantity of books doesn't determine
greatness. It's the impact that an artist's work has on our hearts and minds
that truly matters. So, whether you're a fan of Poussin's grand epics or
Claude's tranquil landscapes, let's raise a brush (or a glass) to both these
remarkable painters. May their art continue to inspire and bewitch us, and may
our curiosity never fade! </span><span face=""Segoe UI Emoji",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Emoji"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">🎨🕵️♀️</span><span face=""Segoe UI",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1pt;">
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="display: none; font-size: 8pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-hide: all; mso-ligatures: none;">Top of Form</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" lang="EN-GB"><i>[Is it just me projecting, or does ChatGPT sound irked in that 1st paragraph? I must
admit that Chat GPT does a wonderful job – I can recommend its post for any
youngster wanting to understand the difference between Poussin and Lorrain. And
it does keep up nicely all the FF mannerisms. But it is still not the post I would write and did write, too!]</i><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="EN-GB" style="display: none; font-size: 8pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: NL-BE; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-hide: all; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
</div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> <b>When prompting Chat GPT about precise references, here's the hilarious list of made up references. Chat GPT definitely has a creative sense of humour but little concern for truth&precision:</b></o:p></span></p><div style="border: solid #D9D9E3 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="border: 1pt solid rgb(217, 217, 227); font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt; padding: 0cm;">Footnotes:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[1]: "Frivolous Fragments Blog-Style
Guide." Art and Humor Publications, 2023.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[2]: Smith, John. "The Elusive Popularity of
Claude Lorrain." Art Chronicles, vol. 45, no. 2, 2022, pp. 78-82.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[3]: Johnson, Emily. "Poussin vs. Lorrain: The
Showdown of Art Styles." Art Monthly, vol. 56, no. 4, 2021, pp. 32-35.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[4]: Brown, Robert. "Claude Lorrain: The Quiet
Genius of Landscapes." The Art Enthusiast, vol. 20, no. 3, 2020, pp.
46-49.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[5]: Adams, Laura. "Spotlight on the Heroes:
Nicolas Poussin and His Grand Narratives." Art History Review, vol. 71,
no. 1, 2019, pp. 15-18.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[6]: Hopper, David. "Art Trends Through the
Centuries: From Bell-Bottom Jeans to Art Styles." Art Trends Analysis,
vol. 12, 2018, pp. 102-105.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 15.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[7]: Ellis, Sarah. "Timeless Legacies: The
Artistic Legacies of Claude Lorrain and Nicolas Poussin." Art Heritage,
vol. 38, no. 6, 2017, pp. 62-66.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 5.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 15.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid #D9D9E3 .25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; padding: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">[8]: Frivolous, Felix. "Humor and Musings: A
Journey Through Art History." </span><span style="font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Frivolous
Fragments, vol. 10, 2023, pp. 110-115.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-51525828648139779422023-04-12T10:16:00.000-07:002023-04-12T10:16:40.920-07:00Borrowed Pathos & Other Hallucinations<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4s_kQAX1sODBTgf3DTjdxboBYoZ3Ja81_egNNZ-baaSE2khGugPfqP6Zr0hayM8GudBKzMp7-VqTgBR2XM6OEnzxsGNlEXx5aYpcfK6iEknDqfPYxnTLgg5MMpDZJfgk6Yk6D5f3H5_hVS3RIEHMYlyxiZjPCNnOVYc35iMjDOwm324ccuZjNvmqEg/s2260/mirroring%20lustre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2260" data-original-width="1880" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4s_kQAX1sODBTgf3DTjdxboBYoZ3Ja81_egNNZ-baaSE2khGugPfqP6Zr0hayM8GudBKzMp7-VqTgBR2XM6OEnzxsGNlEXx5aYpcfK6iEknDqfPYxnTLgg5MMpDZJfgk6Yk6D5f3H5_hVS3RIEHMYlyxiZjPCNnOVYc35iMjDOwm324ccuZjNvmqEg/w166-h200/mirroring%20lustre.jpg" width="166" /></a></div><br /> Why the
surprise at the “hallucinations” of our dear & dreaded (1) Chat GPT? It has
not been trained as a fact & source checking tool - it has been trained to
build plausible sentences drawing upon all the texts from the web it could
ingest – so of course it hallucinates. Indeed, humanity’s collective texts
& images so often do. Across the ages we have used language and images to
share lies, legends, fantasies – as much as true facts and knowledge or expressions
of authentic feelings. <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">These bots
that have become so good at generating texts and images – would they ever be
able to also emulate those grander human hallucinations,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>which have brought such reassuring structure,
beauty <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and consolation to so many
humans (2)? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Such as : the religious hallucinations, purporting to offer us all the
metaphysics and ethics we need to get along and be happy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in this world, if only we have the faith (and
are willing to ignore the lack of demonstrable, scientific truths).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or the artistic hallucinations, bringing an
illusion of transcendent beauty and meaning, answering our longing for harmony
and sense, our need for consolation & redemption - exploiting our willingness
to temporarily suspend our disbelief (for the time of our blissful listening to
the composition (3), of our looking at the painting, of our reading the poem). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It's
tempting to speculate on<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the new era for
art that may be ushered in by Chat GPT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Humanity has
known eras of transcendent art <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be it as a pursuit of reproducing the harmony
of the spheres or at the service of religion. Eras of high art meeting the
demands of wealthy and cultivated patrons (aggrandizing those patrons’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>deeds or indulging their emotional
tribulations or just offering quality entertainment & decorations). Eras of
art which managed to be both sublime (mathematically or even divinely) and
movingly human. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We have had
an era of mass culture driven by commercial success and mass reproducibility.
We have had algorithms spying upon us all and selecting an offer which so
perfectly matches our needs that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>we get
hooked and sell our attention for free to the advertising industry. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In the era
of the generative pre-trained bots, shall we now all become like the wealthy
patrons of yore – able to order new works of art (a composition, a poem, an
image) which are made to fit our specifications of subject, style, mood etc. All
we need to do is to compose a <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“prompt” –
and an artificial intelligence can spit out new personalised creations, in
endless variations on what we humans have produced before.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Why does
that sound depressing? Because it is a farce if art is not made by an artist
sharing our human condition, an artist with empathy who thoughtfully
accompanies us<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in our quest for expression,
beauty, meaning and consolation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The era
of the bot- generated art would be yet another stage in our fall from
grace<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- a humanity hooked to an
automaton which without emotion or involvement produces mindless variations (4)
based on statistics and borrowed human pathos.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reflective Notes <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>& Quotes<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">‘Dear’ – a fascinating black box we
all love to play with, wondering which unfathomable progress may lie ahead ; ‘Dreaded’
– as a parody of our touted unique language skills <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- a mindless ransacking of our collective
memory</span></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-indent: -24px;"> (2)</span><span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -24px;"> </span> Readers can eaaily complete the principal adverse impacts of these grand hallucinations </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">On the subject of blissful listening and
redemption, let’s quote an old Bach-lover ( André Tubeuf<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in « Bach, ou le meilleur des monde », p172) :
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>« Notre péché (originel) et notre
salut (racheté) : tout le Bach des Cantates se joue en cela. Et dans le timbre
d’alto […] de tous le plus pleinement humain. </i></span><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Stigmates compris »<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(4)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i><!--[endif]--><i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">« les variantes hallucinées […] [des]
grandes oeuvres méditatives laissent percer un sentiment d’universel
dérision. » </span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><i>.
</i>How apt, Yves Bonnefoy’s insightful assessment of Picasso’s works without human
presence or dignity<i> (“et c’est évidemment pour cela qu’iI a fasciné son siècle”)
: </i> from 20th century abstract art to our
21st century fascination for art generated by artificial intelligence <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p></blockquote>
Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-48829923850250093492023-01-29T03:12:00.001-08:002023-01-29T03:12:22.527-08:00humans & books - or the pathos of perishable things<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Excitement & Pathos</span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Any regular
visitor of second hand books is familiar with that particular mix of excitement
and pathos. The excitement of stumbling upon a book which matches one’s
interests and affinities<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a book of whose existence one may or may not
have been aware.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such finds can seem
like heaven-sent gifts,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in their
serendipity so unlike the outcome of an efficient search process on the web.
But there is also the pathos, associated with the journey of the book and of its
previous owner(s).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Take for
instance that freshly arrived batch of art books in the “<i>Pêle Mêle</i>” 2<sup>nd</sup>
hand bookshop in Waterloo : each book I took off the shelf was miraculously appealing to a
particular recent affinity of mine <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(there
was Paul Veyne’s “<i>Mon Musée Imaginaire</i>”, there were the high quality art
books on Tiepolo – one of them still including scraps of a magazine article
referring to Alpers’ & Baxandall’s 1996 ravishing study “<i>Tiepolo<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>et l’intelligence picturale</i>”). </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Who was
this previous owner – with his or her exquisite collection of art books? Why
did the books arrive here? Did he or she die recently – was he or she a
representative of perhaps the last generation for whom art history was part and
parcel of their self-education, their “bildung” as a person?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Or take
that other book, found a few years ago in the “<i>Pêle Mêle</i>” at Ixelles, “<i>Les
Grands Pianistes du XXe siècle”</i>, with that poignant anniversary
inscription of a woman to her husband (“<i>à mon mari qui est tellement jeune à
63 ans que j’eu oublié notre âge</i>” dated November 2014 … So what happened,
one anxiously wonders, what explains that this lovingly given book (bought in
Paris, so suggests the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bookmark from a
Paris fine arts bookshop) so soon already ended up in a Brussels second
hand book shop ?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>"The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated of dead and living"</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This mix of
feelings, the “<i>pattern of dead and living</i>” (TS Eliot) gets more
complicated and more emotional still when one is browsing old objects and books in
one’s own parents’ house (and former childhood home). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The house,
so empty and meaningless now without its lifelong<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>occupants, is on this particular day yet full of voices. The hushed and conscientious
voices of the direct descendants <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>taking in charge with some stress the sorting out of the estate, the brisk voices of the grandchildren lovingly remembering (not without a
touch of melancholy) their childhood visits and stay-overs, the excited cries of
the very young great-grand children running through<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">There are not
that many books, actually, mostly technical and computer books, and lots of
dated technical and IT equipment, testifying both to my father’s life-long
passion for IT and to the very short life of technical and IT equipment
(yesterday innovative state of the art ; discarded and incompatible today). In
vain I look for the classical music LP’s I know my mother used to listen to with
great abandon, or the old travel guides and educational language books she used
to prepare the annual family trip. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But in a room on the first floor, I’m intrigued
by an old wooden cupboard, with book covers shimmering through a cloudy glass pane.
A collection of old art books, evidently belonging to my mother’s father <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(who apart from a railway engineering job, was
interested in art, engravings & etchings mostly). The books look like
having been untouched for decades. Most book spines show no sign of any use at
all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Books from the 50s and 60s; mostly
Belgian art but also a few<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>reference works
on undisputed old masters.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><i>"The melancholy of things themselves" </i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3DJZIFiXKomCtYDdfrKIgV9xop-2lqfxOp1NLgKcBGN_bbvVtmuXdGn2m5nrNpLQF38pyHhZuPctDBWwWf1PTyuWYz32h9G28rtE3tmxmjqs3kSlmKnUDr4MBb7KudoP5K7_Gx4JEKjzoNPGmnJQ6Lulf9KMLPt-lus_2a4n9PRjnrwsfOVF-r_DUg/s2816/Dooi%20te%20Gent_Baertsoen_1972Retro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1880" data-original-width="2816" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3DJZIFiXKomCtYDdfrKIgV9xop-2lqfxOp1NLgKcBGN_bbvVtmuXdGn2m5nrNpLQF38pyHhZuPctDBWwWf1PTyuWYz32h9G28rtE3tmxmjqs3kSlmKnUDr4MBb7KudoP5K7_Gx4JEKjzoNPGmnJQ6Lulf9KMLPt-lus_2a4n9PRjnrwsfOVF-r_DUg/s320/Dooi%20te%20Gent_Baertsoen_1972Retro.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />There’s one
book, though, which betrays intense handling. It’s the catalogue of the Albert
Baertsoen (1866-1922) Ghent retrospective of 1972. My grandfather has carefully
inscribed with a fountain pen his name on the frontispiece , with the date
“November 1972”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his meticulous hand
writing he has also carefully added titles to a list of reproductions. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And with a
fine pencil line he has marked some of the accompanying texts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i>Baertsoen schildert den weemoed van de
dingen zelf</i>”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">He couldn’t
have known that 50 years later there would be another Retrospective of Albert
Baertsoen, one which was to make such an impression on his grand-child. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Baertsoen
is often considered<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as an artist of a
vanishing world, with a style that would soon be outmoded and replaced by the
successive avant- gardes of the 20th Century. And yet, the way he captures an atmosphere, the way
he renders the reality and pathos of cityscapes, harbours and industries, appealed
to a conscientious railway engineer in 1972, just as it still moves a melancholy economist now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Cherishing the poignant hazards of old books</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Humans and their aspirations & feelings, Books, Paintings, Styles of art,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> .... </span>- they all come and go. We’re extremely
perishable, and one day, as the 2<sup>nd</sup> hand book shop owner dryly
remarked upon refusing to buy a no longer wanted book, “<i>on finit tous au container</i>”.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">And yet
-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>some traces of it all may continue
their perilous way throughout the ages.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The leading
conservator of the Ghent old books library explained how their venerable old books were now all being sent to
Google for digitalization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m all for
ensuring they can live on the worldwide web. Just as I’m all for the pathetic posting &
tweeting by the billions of humans alive. Perhaps some sympathetic bot will
read it all one day, spitting it out again, transformed,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>at a curious prompt of a human living, say, 500
years on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Meanwhile,
I cherish the poignant hazards of finding old books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-10727174350798254152022-12-31T03:33:00.000-08:002022-12-31T03:33:17.996-08:00Lasting Longings for Harmony<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWCERMdmRJ1alJyFsHZt4uXWewKcw1ZdoFwLs5MIY1WEpums5iCcLldqSnixnRLwolFUWBSd0t2SNSWvnM16y_3heYWBUpDmPyOa41psqOQNdFBqYCHAfiyVBqBQ4Dp-uwSSqW4EgMjtEI7BklRVKuSSfdSfGfLyjYiomWOEB3TCZ0On9Fy3n3YTuVA/s513/Bellini_angel_annunciation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="474" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWCERMdmRJ1alJyFsHZt4uXWewKcw1ZdoFwLs5MIY1WEpums5iCcLldqSnixnRLwolFUWBSd0t2SNSWvnM16y_3heYWBUpDmPyOa41psqOQNdFBqYCHAfiyVBqBQ4Dp-uwSSqW4EgMjtEI7BklRVKuSSfdSfGfLyjYiomWOEB3TCZ0On9Fy3n3YTuVA/w185-h200/Bellini_angel_annunciation.jpg" width="185" /></a></div><br />It’s quite
a paradox, especially for ponderous art lovers: in existential stress
situations one apparently does not turn to those art works with the heaviest
philosophical credentials or the highest emotional pitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One rather seeks refuge in pure aesthetic
attention: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>following a beautiful bold
brush stroke (1) , listening intently to a subtly modulating melody (2), savouring
the changing luminosities of the sky.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">So, for
instance, on that early morning end of January, after a sleepless night
worrying about the diagnosis I’d just received (3), I could not eat, I could
not read, nor could I find solace in Bellini’s heart-felt Gethsemane or in any other
pathos-filled paintings. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But leafing
distractedly through my art books, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my
trembling finally did recede, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my anxiety did get quelled by the soothing sight of an elegant annunciation angel (4).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">One can
observe the same phenomenon, when, with age, a certain tiredness (5) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the inescapable experience of the frailty
of life (6)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>seem to engender an
increasing need for sheer beauty & harmony. A craving for disinterested
aesthetics as a source of relief from the perils of the world, from one’s own
anxieties (7), offering moments of reprieve from chaos and discord (8). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">In previous
eras, a sense for metaphysics and a belief in transcendence would have given
legitimation to this longing for aesthetic bliss – it would have been seen as
serious proof of the immanent congruence between cosmic harmony and the human
soul (9).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">By
contrast, in our (post) modern times aesthetics and harmony have often been discredited as
being amoral, apolitical. And since the romantic era, pure absolute musical harmonies
have become suspect for their alleged lack of individual emotional
expressiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In our age, we rather
prone political action and technological solutions to put things right, we
rather recommend the sharing and expressing of raw emotions without overly
formal complexities. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">But ah, it
is something (10) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to be able to focus
only on perceiving, on making sense, on discerning harmonies and significations
(11).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is something <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to believe that this intense aesthetic attention
can bring us closer to timeless sublime principles of beauty and signification,
surpassing our own frail petty lives, adumbrating a possible human dignity
shared across the ages. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><u>Douze
Petites Notes …</u> </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">(12)
<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Eg Tiepolo rather than Rembrandt, <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Eg Mozart rather than Beethoven<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">A scary medical diagnosis, with
uncertain outcome at the time. But effectively treated now, so I can look back
with relief to the whole episode (and blog-readers need not to worry)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(4)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Giovanni Bellini, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>St Vincent Ferrer Polyptych<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- Detail of an annunciation angel<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(5)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">a growing realisation of how the
world is, how life is – and our (or at least, my) utter inadequacy & powerlessness
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(6)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">as most of us must experience one day:
the death of a parent, and prior to that - so shocking, so painful - their
decay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(7)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">A Nietzsche-quote, stumbled upon in an old
notebook of mine, well worth to be reproduced again here digitally: « <i>Ma
mélancolie peut se reposer dans les cachettes et dans les abîmes de la
perfection, c’est pour cela que j’ai besoin de musique</i> »<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(8)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">This flight into the safe Haven of
Harmony, goes back a long way:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i>The Pythagoreans
[…] <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cleansed their minds of the noises
and perturbations to which they had been exposed during the day by certain odes
and hymns, which produced tranquil sleep and few, but good dreams.” (p32 Jamie
James: “The Music of the Spheres” see below)</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(9)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></i><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">As elaborated in this wonderful book
by <a name="_Hlk123371161">Jamie James: “<i>The Music of the Spheres </i></a><i>–
Music, Science and the natural Order of the Universe” . <o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(10)</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> “s<i>omething</i>”? <i>something</i>
fervently to look forward to, each and every day: dwelling in beauty in the
early still hours of the day, coming home to music after all the sound &
fury of a worldly day <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(11)</span></span></i><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> Some key elements in the exercise
of our aesthetic-cognitive faculties; as noted by Alpers & Baxandall in
their study on Tiepolo <i>(“Tiepolo et l’intelligence picturale”</i>) : «
<i>[…] </i></span><i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">Produire du
sens, […] Chercher de la lumière […] Le travail de déchiffrement présente un
pur plaisir »<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(12)</span></span><!--[endif]--><i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"> </span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Also the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>title of the first section of Andre Manoukian’s effortlessly swinging
& learned book on music<i> (“Sur les routes de la musique”).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>And so we make it to twelve silent notes
– hurled <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>into the world wide web,
perhaps to be read only by some voraciously learning chatbot. <o:p></o:p></span></p></blockquote>
Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-78834517931603755862022-12-11T07:14:00.000-08:002022-12-11T07:14:20.963-08:00“the mobility of lighting”, or : Musings on wandering luminosity <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>“Il sole di Tiepolo” </i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7e8bIxVEdqwNmukJ9HeiSM4079YDQhMhQl0xA4QjDe6mg46IzorwlIhLr640GvvCUcmt6gBx4DjfZZ0bAa_2w6N4y6V2goC6te5N1RaHOp4IZGX1V0X8M5JBQrM6KUwZq7tCJAnHJ04iuwKIM4Vb1QVuZgWqa3HxCEaEuLedT4IEUEloU1G5-A7ZbtA/s790/Tiepolo_Wurzburg_Asia_yellow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="790" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7e8bIxVEdqwNmukJ9HeiSM4079YDQhMhQl0xA4QjDe6mg46IzorwlIhLr640GvvCUcmt6gBx4DjfZZ0bAa_2w6N4y6V2goC6te5N1RaHOp4IZGX1V0X8M5JBQrM6KUwZq7tCJAnHJ04iuwKIM4Vb1QVuZgWqa3HxCEaEuLedT4IEUEloU1G5-A7ZbtA/w200-h145/Tiepolo_Wurzburg_Asia_yellow.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />“<i>We love Tiepolo</i>”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- so Alpers and Baxandall state, almost apologetically, almost as a disclaimer, in
the first chapter of their wonderful study on “<i>Tiepolo and the Pictorial
intelligence</i>”(1) .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of course,
one might disparage Tiepolo as a frivolous painter of pompous showy scenes at
the service of rich local potentates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
then, one cannot help but falling in love with Tiepolo, at the very first
sight, and one keeps coming back to his paintings & frescoes, looking at them with delight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a
pure aesthetic pleasure to try and make sense of his intricate jumbles of forms
and figures; it’s pure bliss to savour his intense colours; to plunge into his
delightful complexities of luminosity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tiepolo clearly caters to our quest for light, our feeling
for luminous patterns. His intense luminosities, often contrasted with dull
colors, have rightly inspired rapturous comments : “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">il sole di Tiepolo”</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Even mere reproductions still work wonders - when I wake on
these dark late autumn <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>days, I rush to
get up, to open the Tiepolo book and bask in its luminosity. Just like during
lunch break, in my quest for light, I brave the chilly grey drizzle for a walk
to the nearby square, where the garden paths are strewn with intensely gleaming,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>yellow leaves. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>“Negotiations with site lighting“ </i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNOKGeflKYtHSwaOL2ckESTATAte4Qhs4CPid36-MWSculn92EO2iIOyADxmAOsvR5GjVc4mRHnfBx3szqxNjxtSPeW6TJ3zFdH4FQ5XtW7w-e2z4j-wAdfcm0Oc_UBtTQa37e6EOd4HKT5QTHB0DvDbaErMV_ak07HiiSgtsseSFKSCozuI2d-aLOA/s632/very%20yellow%20leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="632" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNOKGeflKYtHSwaOL2ckESTATAte4Qhs4CPid36-MWSculn92EO2iIOyADxmAOsvR5GjVc4mRHnfBx3szqxNjxtSPeW6TJ3zFdH4FQ5XtW7w-e2z4j-wAdfcm0Oc_UBtTQa37e6EOd4HKT5QTHB0DvDbaErMV_ak07HiiSgtsseSFKSCozuI2d-aLOA/w200-h181/very%20yellow%20leaves.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>While the former paragraph evokes the internal lighting
linked to the hues and tones of the painting itself (or, mutatis mutandis, linked
to the yellowness of the autumnal leaves themselves)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>- there is of course also always the question of the ambient light<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(direct, reflected and refracted)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and of the changes in lighting according the
position of the spectator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Alpers &
Baxandall brilliantly analyse how a fresco painter, such as Tiepolo, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>who paints in situ,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>uses all his pictorial intelligence to make
his frescoes engage with the ambient light on multiple levels.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For works in situ, the artist can <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to a certain extent control or at least
negotiate with the effects of external lighting . To a certain extent only – because
it is impossible for the artist to anticipate all possible light scenarios, let
alone the idiosyncratic wanderings and viewpoints of the spectators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Curators’ lighting</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBM3sqRusGQcMawotUgxrMpiML0fHaXO0wCHeSH_7fgpZOAEaK8nddPZNLVlMhJU2WS3XeFPLBEovtBBtxqHyuZU1CWXXLzUh2aImfdRHGFl5leB_Y9xSt1XRPstxtksNAEtqn92tBesDxppbWgx4_eETw6hLSlGPQpp53_FdA3Y5DUuKCFfdyQ7AGw/s1442/drama%20antwerp%20museum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1442" data-original-width="1396" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLBM3sqRusGQcMawotUgxrMpiML0fHaXO0wCHeSH_7fgpZOAEaK8nddPZNLVlMhJU2WS3XeFPLBEovtBBtxqHyuZU1CWXXLzUh2aImfdRHGFl5leB_Y9xSt1XRPstxtksNAEtqn92tBesDxppbWgx4_eETw6hLSlGPQpp53_FdA3Y5DUuKCFfdyQ7AGw/w194-h200/drama%20antwerp%20museum.jpg" width="194" /></a></div>As to paintings on panel or canvas,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on their journey in the world they will
mostly meet lighting conditions unknown to the painter (unless he or she is
also curator of the exhibition).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s
an element of accidentalness there, which is quite moving, and which for any
art lover is an integral part of the unique ephemeral experience of looking at
a painting at a certain point in time & in space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Thus, in a museum with lots of natural light, one can stand
in rapture in front of a painting, watching how the colours light up, glow and then
fade away again, as clouds drift by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In galleries and museums with mostly artificial light and guided
or tempered natural light, the curator may intentionally use lighting to create
a sense of drama in the room, or to draw attention to specific paintings or
elements of paintings. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the newly re-opened museum of fine arts in Antwerp (2) , I
suspect the lighting is used very intentionally indeed. Heavy purple curtains
block the sideways natural light while a steady tempered light comes from above <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and each room has its own atmosphere of light,
including ample use of dramatic potential of spot lights. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It can turn a walk through museum rooms into an aesthetic experience
in its own right, one can appreciate the atmosphere of each room,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with the lighting contributing to the “mise-en-scène”
of a story which features and contrasts different individual works. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The curators/”stage designers” of the renovated Antwerp museum
have built a wonderful experience indeed (and it’s quite uplifting to see how
many visitors now re-discover the museum).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Wandering light</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But please bear with me, if I still cherish the memory of another
visit to the Antwerp museum, a very long time ago. The museum back then was old
& stately, but ever so quietly decaying, with creaky floors and dusty corners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Natural light fell in from above (through grimy
glass) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and sideways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The order of the rooms followed the age-old
recipe of historical styles and national schools. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the Italian room
hung forlornly an early Titian, so quietly glowing with Venetian luminosity, its importance signalled only by an old threadbare
carpet in front of it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an ill-lit <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>room hung the early Ensor paintings of staid bourgeois
interiors – so the spectator’s eye would focus hungrily on each subtly rendered
gleam and fraying ray of light, on each refracted luminosity in the painting. </p><p class="MsoNormal">But
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>what a magnificent moment indeed, when the
variable ambient light in the museum room would suddenly intensify and bring to
life the painting’s bourgeois interior, before the light dimmed again and one would
feel the full shady oppressiveness of a dusty, cluttered interior. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(3) <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><u>the immobility of notes</u></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">(1)<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><i>Tiepolo et l’intelligence picturale</i> (Gallimard
1996, Translation from "Tiepolo and the Pictorial Intelligence", 1994 Yale
University Press . Svetlana Alpers & Michael Baxandall)</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">(2)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span>What to see at the finally re-opened Antwerp museum of fine arts : galleries
restored “to their former glory” and with seducing light effects & stories, great
works of art brought back to the public; & much more - see https://kmska.be/nl </p></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">(3)<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Now all the Ensors (the colourful ones in any
case – where have the more sombre ones gone? ) hang in a brilliantly white room
with glaring light everywhere, bringing out the full anarchy of glaring lights and gaudy colours. </p></blockquote><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-67889916750885062032022-11-12T04:58:00.000-08:002022-11-12T04:58:24.895-08:00where to hide in the age of 'surveillance capitalism'<p><i>They all prey upon us, poor sitting ducks</i></p><p>Grim-faced under a hoodie (1), tapping nervously on the
keyboard while watching intently what’s happening on the screen, I might
resemble a hacker. But I ‘m merely a hapless computer user who is on high alert
while setting up a new device (2).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One might naively assume that having acquired and duly paid
for a new piece of hardware with accompanying software, one can insouciantly click
through the standard set-up procedure. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But no, commercial harassment (3) is now hard coded into
every device right from the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
you don’t pay attention the provider can share your data with X, Y and Z t<i>o
sell you better services and products</i> and <i>blablabla</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And your device’s default browser comes of
course pre-equipped with unwanted gaudy news-sites and commercial links.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Etc Etc<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One might also naively assume that buying a premium
anti-virus license, means you have a security provider who is henceforth on
your side, defending your interests in the digital jungle. But no, also this paid-for anti-virus software does not miss an occasion to send various alarming messages
only to persuade you to buy yet another multi-year subscription to yet another
module you don’t really need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And when we go on-line, then of course we all know that really anything
goes and no holds are barred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
commercial tech firms to digital criminals, they all prey upon us, poor sitting
ducks, from the moment we switch on our tech device and connect to the web. (4) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s be clear, it’s not the technology as
such which is stressful, it’s the whole commercially exploitative environment around
it that is so disheartening. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Looking for safer spaces ... </i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>By contrast …. ah, by contrast… Have you ever realised what
a precious, disinterested realm you enter when reading a good book? For
instance a lovingly researched art history book. You can sit quietly with this book – leafing
through it, reading, looking at pictures, thinking, … Nobody is preying on you!
Nobody is tracking or trapping you! Within the covers of the book, nobody is trying to sell anything. The book is yours forever, on your own terms
of engagement. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And the book’s content, ah … the content … It has not been
selected or engineered by an algorithm maximising and exploiting your attention
for some product placement (5).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, usually there has been an earnest writer
at work, eg an art historian, who has done long and patient research, and then
in turn tries to explain her insights to the reader. A writer who may actually
love his subject, who may try to convey a genuine passion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a blessing indeed, to spend time, slow
time, your own time, with a book that is only there to share knowledge and
beauty. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Who knows, we may still witness a revival of the paper book,
when too many people will have become exhausted and disgusted by the rowdy, always-on,
always-being-tracked commercial hell which the digital world alas has become. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u>tracking notes instead of cookies<o:p></o:p></u></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">hoodies are so handy to keep warm in times of
energy wars, while sitting still in front of the computer</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Not a new device because the old one failed
(it’s running nicely with plenty of memory and remaining hard disk space) but because
the near-monopolist Operating System provider keeps pushing menacing messages
warning about the end of times (ie end of service cycle with security updates),
insisting on the need to buy a new computer with the latest operating system.</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">a commercial harassment to which one has alas
become so accustomed when surfing the web, using social media, consulting
on-line information. We all know today’s web services’ business model is one of
free services in exchange for our data and for our attention to commercial
messages. </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">But even providers of paid-for
goods and services are now joining the race to aggressively squeeze as much as
possible economic return from their unlucky captive customers.</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">“</span><i style="text-indent: -18pt;">post-purchase
monetisation</i><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">” it is called. </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Shoshana
Zuboff wrote about it in great detail in “The age of surveillance capitalism”</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">This is
not a techno-phobe complaint</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">- the
technology is impressive, its possibilities are exhilarating. But it’s the
business model, or even the entire mind set,</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">of the on-line world, which
reduces us to a bunch of sitting ducks.</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Who doesn’t think back with longing to the good old early days of the
internet, when disinterested communities and websites sprang up, when you could
connect with people, find high quality information and educational resources, …
ach. </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">II’s of course also our own
collective fault – there is no such thing as a free lunch, and collectively we
have ensured the failure of the earlier business models based on premium
subscriptions, donations etc.</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">But maybe
the non-mainstream digital world can still recover this better version of the
digital world?</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Just chronicling the latest harassment: Instagram aping TikTok,
so you now have to wade through a heap of unsolicited silly video stuff and you
can no longer just follow people you find interesting.</span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">What ìs this obsession of our age with video?
Is it a question of a collective horror of stillness, a variant of horror
vacui?</span></li><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">But thank you Alphabet-Google, for your gracious free offer of Blogger! I wonder which data of mine were suited for monetisation? </span></li></ol><div style="text-indent: -24px;"><br /></div><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-85321108304458379832022-11-06T05:56:00.000-08:002022-11-06T05:56:00.729-08:00Autumn Greyness & City Colours <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">November has at last turned chilly & grey (for a few days
at least). So instead of lounging at sidewalk cafés, reluctantly basking in unseasonably
warm sunrays (1), a flâneur can now again take to the streets for long brisk walks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8c1DsX_xIG1MZNTCVMnlk_Mxxz47rNCXwmM11lI83cANA9HTGxuLpwEwd-mIihUd-HroftSguDhWQ4YcjvAcE16B7f5pkZAaEJ18sIiH4a8OFHu0Dfmo5oigJqLkg7zFXKHtDQh6EUEeDKP_h-iMw4Xt4RnKiFc65W2DZj92ERmVHoIOrh03ipaZgmQ/s2304/red_cycling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="2304" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8c1DsX_xIG1MZNTCVMnlk_Mxxz47rNCXwmM11lI83cANA9HTGxuLpwEwd-mIihUd-HroftSguDhWQ4YcjvAcE16B7f5pkZAaEJ18sIiH4a8OFHu0Dfmo5oigJqLkg7zFXKHtDQh6EUEeDKP_h-iMw4Xt4RnKiFc65W2DZj92ERmVHoIOrh03ipaZgmQ/w200-h200/red_cycling.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">For lack of golden sunlight and in the absence of autumnal luminosities, I point the camera to whatever artificial colour that strikes the eye : red street marks echoed in red graffiti, two intensely blue flaps of a sagging shop awning.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0LcyYsgrbVDqa8eATPrYehxR7sasRNhLxs4fZdOVbiBOJh63ArLGGxB7nbvNJF46iqcyTs9BIE4i_-OGp0uZH1DYyxUOzFgis3_Ia8nRKkLNb78pkCq0QSvNnKJV1HoLGMjYoSvbhGKYZN5Y7_anUTlXDNgQuhM3IOyGjBYrmERjXYV5KLApZ-pCQg/s1821/corner%20rhythm%20in%20blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1821" data-original-width="1821" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0LcyYsgrbVDqa8eATPrYehxR7sasRNhLxs4fZdOVbiBOJh63ArLGGxB7nbvNJF46iqcyTs9BIE4i_-OGp0uZH1DYyxUOzFgis3_Ia8nRKkLNb78pkCq0QSvNnKJV1HoLGMjYoSvbhGKYZN5Y7_anUTlXDNgQuhM3IOyGjBYrmERjXYV5KLApZ-pCQg/w200-h200/corner%20rhythm%20in%20blue.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Or the flashy colourful letters on a ground floor window (not of a shop, rather a room possibly used for creative purposes) - speaking directly to the soul of a keenly observing, city-gold-digging flâneur.<o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4JGK1fTbNLxB50RkIIXhtCzm1cjBSOggSofGQcBq-rkqK-L7hx0wa5SHzmtC9-WJLPVkSOqMd5YkcOrjwr8DGEW5tNpXHvOmf1nTWEtzBIttPgLdbgPhwuy0eFiNL3-I98KP9-iAlRRS8FVXgpwcgAMMP9YCExiqkfaQnLICCizNH_EN7ao6WF7w2w/s2304/leche%20vitrines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="2304" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4JGK1fTbNLxB50RkIIXhtCzm1cjBSOggSofGQcBq-rkqK-L7hx0wa5SHzmtC9-WJLPVkSOqMd5YkcOrjwr8DGEW5tNpXHvOmf1nTWEtzBIttPgLdbgPhwuy0eFiNL3-I98KP9-iAlRRS8FVXgpwcgAMMP9YCExiqkfaQnLICCizNH_EN7ao6WF7w2w/s320/leche%20vitrines.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">How many years, before we’ll stop calling 25°C </span></i></span><span style="font-size: x-small; text-indent: -18pt;"><i><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">end of October “unseasonably warm” - </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span></i></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>how long before the veterans of harsh autumns
past have become a minority</i></span>? </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"> </span></li></ol><o:p></o:p><p></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-7423604684822689282022-11-06T05:42:00.004-08:002022-11-06T05:42:49.005-08:00Autumn Luminosities<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6GOBwvCbcem3dRtdwbU0eSSpS3eTi1m-6-7ZzxUJx8O0rHphvRuRc-sii1fThUmIahQXyDRBBNI-Fr-DcNODIgQtqG5d4F8w3bsJpGxK9yFSTRq4FD4ywckVekdqyRdLEOGEW_CBEzBjNISnuoq_KyuEHmd2WVHlTnJtfTeeFao7RlNEejf8EICUkw/s3000/autumn%20street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6GOBwvCbcem3dRtdwbU0eSSpS3eTi1m-6-7ZzxUJx8O0rHphvRuRc-sii1fThUmIahQXyDRBBNI-Fr-DcNODIgQtqG5d4F8w3bsJpGxK9yFSTRq4FD4ywckVekdqyRdLEOGEW_CBEzBjNISnuoq_KyuEHmd2WVHlTnJtfTeeFao7RlNEejf8EICUkw/s320/autumn%20street.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Always a car driving in or out the frame. Always the autumnal slanting sunrays, reflecting as always on wet asphalt. And always the leaves, the yellow autumn leaves. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-49813885921325376152022-06-12T06:28:00.007-07:002022-08-04T06:07:51.404-07:00While Relishing Random Gifts <p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">There are many good reasons to no longer write lengthy
blogposts.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For one, they are not 15secs videos, so where’s the fun for
the scrolling audience? Two, there’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a
war going on in Europe. Three, there are famines threatening in the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four, this planet needs to be saved from
climate change. Five, I’ve more pressing private issues to deal with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But then again, there’s no harm either in blogging & meandering
melancholy musings. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And, right now, instead of dissecting the many perils of the
human condition, I feel the strange need to count my blessings – and to evoke some
unexpected gifts of harmony. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"><b> 1)</b> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">The un-solicited emergence of lovely little purple
flowers </span><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">“la vie ne fait
pas de cadeaux “ : very true indeed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>And
yet, these lovely purple flowers just popped up like that, one morning, spreading
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>their joyous colour & smell all over
the small and not particularly well tended front-garden of our building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><span style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> <b>2)</b> <span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span>Finding essential books one didn’t even know
that existed<br /><!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhc-GE3LNyubJv0S-PoxrskOjRbHQ-OXQSD2FaNM0BhzitLbUl4kdV1UUP37_lT-f42iNtb9ZOr0lFckfR5fcCUcs2_tCNWC66-FOMTDBOVcKFBz9PqSRiHmgR-eFZFxl97_eEsiBvW2fzT5KI5r7_q2hQTyWg109xflkFFpzZNtB21l0yE_nhKnx2bw/s452/what%20to%20listen%20%20for%20in%20music2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="452" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhc-GE3LNyubJv0S-PoxrskOjRbHQ-OXQSD2FaNM0BhzitLbUl4kdV1UUP37_lT-f42iNtb9ZOr0lFckfR5fcCUcs2_tCNWC66-FOMTDBOVcKFBz9PqSRiHmgR-eFZFxl97_eEsiBvW2fzT5KI5r7_q2hQTyWg109xflkFFpzZNtB21l0yE_nhKnx2bw/w200-h200/what%20to%20listen%20%20for%20in%20music2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />“Rien sans peine” : definitely! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I was just absentmindedly browsing the shelves
in the music section of my beloved second hand bookshop Pêle-Mêle, when,
without any merit, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stumbled upon two <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>books – each in their way perfect to deepen the
insights of a devout albeit unschooled classical music lover. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A small
pocket book in perfect condition by Aaron Copland (indeed, the composer!) : <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What to Listen for in Music”. And a beautifully
edited art book about “Flemish Polyphony” by Ignace Bossuyt. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>3)</b></span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">An impromptu cello-concerto in the museum garden
– by a future winner of the Queen Elisabeth competition</span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDdWd9CsRkvAh3i6f3P3qQmAs3diD3PjO8LXzIlMb_g-6Lmk8m8vg8q3fqEDzmCGVlyEcpafbkM0O3_eKLDdHTT2DzFNy0QeSDRuzF2gDv1YzmQELWj-TakW87ioW3d1igQihnr03lVy4IvA_kpnPqecsqovvP28Tyh_z67UdRwZUttAJB8bAo-vUlyg/s2595/van%20buuren%202021_%20cello%20%20reine%20elisabeth_2022_Hayoung%20Choi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2595" data-original-width="1716" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDdWd9CsRkvAh3i6f3P3qQmAs3diD3PjO8LXzIlMb_g-6Lmk8m8vg8q3fqEDzmCGVlyEcpafbkM0O3_eKLDdHTT2DzFNy0QeSDRuzF2gDv1YzmQELWj-TakW87ioW3d1igQihnr03lVy4IvA_kpnPqecsqovvP28Tyh_z67UdRwZUttAJB8bAo-vUlyg/w133-h200/van%20buuren%202021_%20cello%20%20reine%20elisabeth_2022_Hayoung%20Choi.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">"There’s no such thing as a free lunch” :<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>undoubtedly! And yet. It was a sultry Sunday summer
afternoon in June last year and we had gone for a stroll in the <a href="https://www.museumvanbuuren.be/nl/tuinen/" target="_blank">rose gardens of the Museum van Buuren</a>. A woman asked whether we wanted to attend a cello-recital,
for free? It was given by a young German-Korean cellist, who was exploring some
of the historical surroundings of this music- loving queen who gave her name to
an eminent musical competition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://queenelisabethcompetition.be/en/laureates/hayoung-choi/5094/" target="_blank">Hayoung Choi</a>’s playing was dazzling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And on a Sunday
morning one year later, scrolling through the news on my phone, I could nod
with smug satisfaction: the rose-garden cellist won the 1<sup>st</sup> prize of
the Queen Elisabeth competition. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal;"><b> 4)</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->“Incident at Saint Guidon” and an unforeseen city
walk<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The plan was to efficiently insert a medical examination in
the midst of the day, with a well-timed metro trip up and down to the hospital,
all without causing so much as a ripple in my work performance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, that didn’t go according to plan – on the
way back, after only 10 minutes, the metro halted and all travellers were
kindly requested to leave the train: because of an incident at the St Guidon station
all metro- traffic was stopped. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Above the ground people scurried around in all directions,
trying to board overflowing buses or hailing already occupied taxis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But, that’s when a Flâneur gets going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sunny, sweltering hot streets, a
walk of about 1.5hours to get back to work. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s an unexpected gift to <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just walk and walk, along the busy Chaussée de
Mons, alongside an unexpectedly peaceful park with children playing, crossing a
pittoresque square with a church, slaloming though groups of boys hanging
around in Kureghem, traversing the canal, walking past illegal workers
gathering behind the Southstation, dodging frantic shoppers at the Place Louise,
overtaking strolling dandy’s with nifty dogs along the Toison d’or, speeding up
a little, and yes there’s the office building. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal;"><b> 5)</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Youthful energy in the metro at 7.10AM<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“metro-boulot-dodo” – not an uplifting prospect, now that for
3 weeks I have to join the daily commuters to get my treatment in a hospital at
the edge of Brussels. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most people in the
metro are rather subdued at this early hour. Looking around I see rows of people
uniformly bent over their smartphones. Others are dozing off, like that young slender
man, carefully dressed (with red <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>shoes, red
belt and red shirt) snuggling up ever tighter in his corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The school-going youth though, bristles with
energy. When a girl spots a friend in the next car, she grins & phones : <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“look around you!!” , laughing out loud when the
friends turns around , surprised. The friend comes over, and until the final metro-stop
they sit side by side, grinning & chatting & beaming & oh so happy
about their unexpected encounter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>6)</b></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Greeted by a friendly face at the Erasmus-metro
exit<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When Ieaving the metro at the ‘Erasmus’ station, apprehensive
about the first of 15 radiotherapy –sessions, there is a familiar face that greets
me amidst the crowd of commuters. On a bill-board there is Vivian Maier,
intently gazing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in her lens, happily capturing
her reflection in a mirroring surface, hair unruly, behind her a non-descript
building and dappled summer light through tree-leaves - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a joyous reflected self-portrait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As un-connected & isolated as she may
have been – here she is, so many years later, on another continent – on <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bill-boards announcing an exhibition of her photos.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tCCi9FZ2Fd3hipiGONeZj8227fGyYZCg09eK_okFw5mne8lsCjzAO4gQPR89ND3_izpm8XXDOJkTX3tiJgbjVNYzw9zfMfI5Ha8gPCrNxZvTXB3NcHtIPTlG-KHJN0QhTq0Ck3rA6JMWC4xrSea5MHTnAdniul7nztk0VA0nja_v8kSckDAFpXFF1g/s515/vivian%20maier%20again.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="440" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-tCCi9FZ2Fd3hipiGONeZj8227fGyYZCg09eK_okFw5mne8lsCjzAO4gQPR89ND3_izpm8XXDOJkTX3tiJgbjVNYzw9zfMfI5Ha8gPCrNxZvTXB3NcHtIPTlG-KHJN0QhTq0Ck3rA6JMWC4xrSea5MHTnAdniul7nztk0VA0nja_v8kSckDAFpXFF1g/w171-h200/vivian%20maier%20again.jpg" width="171" /></a></div><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span><p></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-45944675620815609042021-08-12T06:22:00.000-07:002021-08-12T06:22:57.795-07:00Reflections on human influence<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">I was intending to write a blogpost about <a href="https://www.britannica.com/topic/paideia" target="_blank">"paideia"</a>
or “humanitas” – in the sense of seeking individual ‘salvation’ not in material
riches, but in an ideal of self-education, in order to participate (however
modestly) to the best that human culture has produced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to reach back 2000 years to bolster
my confidence in the relative permanence of this humanistic ideal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But I was distracted from my nostalgic musings by the red alert
of the IPCC : <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Human influence has warmed
the climate at a rate that is unprecedented in at least <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the last 2000 years.</i>”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Human influence has
likely increased the chance of compound extreme events since the 1950s. This
includes increases in the frequency of concurrent heatwaves and droughts on the
global scale (high confidence); fire weather in some regions of all inhabited
continents (medium confidence); and compound flooding in some locations (medium
confidence</i>).” <a href="https://www.ipcc.ch/report/ar6/wg1/downloads/report/IPCC_AR6_WGI_SPM.pdf" target="_blank">(IPCC August 2021_ AR6 WGI – p41))</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNk4PXNapIvD-8VVHQ6yWwDjxCE1W6_TB10yLFPOINS0RPcXwLO5yg5kOSCt0wU6K07HJbq4i8GiREX2EH0Q7QEZcfjz56XAkGRbXUmueghhOjO86V9W3vqfyyMooprvCp2YPghn2Zq1J/s904/lot%2527s+wife_pillar_of_salt_landscape+with+destruction_1530_southNL_bonnefanten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="903" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNk4PXNapIvD-8VVHQ6yWwDjxCE1W6_TB10yLFPOINS0RPcXwLO5yg5kOSCt0wU6K07HJbq4i8GiREX2EH0Q7QEZcfjz56XAkGRbXUmueghhOjO86V9W3vqfyyMooprvCp2YPghn2Zq1J/w400-h400/lot%2527s+wife_pillar_of_salt_landscape+with+destruction_1530_southNL_bonnefanten.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <br /><br /></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>May human ingenuity (technological, behavioral) now
help us to mitigate our influence, and to adapt to its consequences, lest we
turn into pillars of salt, gazing, transfixed, at the unfolding disaster. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-10992660424847648692021-08-03T01:38:00.000-07:002021-08-03T01:38:20.589-07:00Reflections on a Permanent Book <p> </p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNGkEU59q2aPUMtSrRGZz76u7oycg0jYeu06QmzO2ooVvMDxH8milEawxssryimn_dqD7OcAFZMqNLfatvpsrPXCOeUlLvXMfoj23MV0hPj_-DNltOO-_85qPBtlZALEs4SrsAjr_M8Bb/s2048/monteverdi_books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNGkEU59q2aPUMtSrRGZz76u7oycg0jYeu06QmzO2ooVvMDxH8milEawxssryimn_dqD7OcAFZMqNLfatvpsrPXCOeUlLvXMfoj23MV0hPj_-DNltOO-_85qPBtlZALEs4SrsAjr_M8Bb/s320/monteverdi_books.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br />“with numerous music
examples” - introduction<o:p></o:p></i><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was just an unassuming paperback I’d picked up some time
ago for a mere €2 in the second hand bookshop : “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monteverdi – His Life and Work</i>” (1)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The frontispiece carried the promise “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with numerous music examples</i>”, a bit like an art history book touting
the number of colour illustrations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One of the joys of reading an art history book, is of course
to have eye and mind happily consorting, creating meaning while making the
joyful connection between descriptive text and visual image. (2)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s quite different for music – literary
descriptions are either very general glorifications of music or else very
subjective outpourings. And objective musicological descriptions, including score
extracts with keys & notes, often scare off the un-initiated with their
technical terms. (3) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a small digression on learning
music as an adult - 2021<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As to myself, having never had a musical education, the
connection between musical score and actual sounds used to elude me. So my
listening (however intense, attentive and profoundly impacting) remained mostly
intuitive, and in CD-booklets I routinely skipped paragraphs with technical
music terms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Luckily, however, my
book-buying has always been more ambitious, overreaching my actual abilities,
and so not shying away from books including staves and notes<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>implicitly assuming that one day I could still teach myself how to read
sheet music. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Which has proved to be a self-fulfilling prophecy :<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>now at last, with the help of a limpid
educational book (5) (which in 70 pages patiently explains the basic musical
elements) and following many many hours of repetition, I’m now at a point that
I can decipher (ever so slowly, ever so laboriously) what is happening on the
lines of a musical score.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah, the joy of
recognising a b flat! The pride<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of
identifying an augmented fifth! (4) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
like a former illiterate, painstakingly deciphering a sentence word by word,
letter by letter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a modest meditation on
the passing of time and the soul of a sentence - 1926<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With my recently acquired humble musical knowledge I can now
slowly read “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monteverdi – His Life and
Work</i>” and, for instance, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ponder the timeless
meaning of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the frequent use of augmented fifths produce effects of voluptuousness
and melancholy”. <o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But a rather casual, non-technical sentence sets off my
melancholy musings, making me wonder about the passing of time and styles. The
book’s author, musicologist Prunières, pays a tribute to Romain Rolland (his former
music teacher)(6) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>as follows: “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">With an intuition bordering upon genius, he
has entered into Monteverdi’s very soul and defined synthetically the essential
characteristics of his art.”</i> <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Who, these days, would still write a sentence like that?
Where (apart from in self-help tutorials) does one still find words such as
“intuition, genius, soul” used in one breath?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>An entire world of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>high art, of
cultural reverence, of exquisite sensibilities, is evoked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While reading<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>the historical/biographical notes or the musicological commentaries, I
didn’t wonder about the date of writing of the book , but this one reflective sentence
made me pause and realise that the book was written in another era, almost 100
years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">permanent by design -
1972 <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As mentioned in the opening paragraph – this book I’m
blogging about really is just an unassuming paperback, published back in 1972
by Dover books (7).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it ages
particularly well, withstanding the vagaries of human use and of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the elements (8) for close to 50 years.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On the back cover I read that this longevity was indeed
aimed at by the publisher, who devotes a full paragraph to their efforts to “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">make the best book possible</i>”, from
choice of paper to method of sewing and binding, firmly concluding with “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is a permanent book</i>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">They were quite right to add a proud exclamation mark to the
heading ”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Dover edition designed for
years of use</i>!” : their bold claim of permanence has held true so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">They were truly <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘circular by design’ avant la lettre. Quite an
achievement, because, just think of it, which TV-set produced in 1972 would still
be used today? Which smartphone bought today will still be in use in 2071? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u>Free Notes without a Stave</u><o:p></o:p></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->by Henri Prunières, Translated by Marie D.
Mackie – 1972 republication of the original 1926 English language edition.</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Ekphrasis,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Greek for the written description of a work of art produced as a
rhetorical exercise, often used in the adjectival form ekphrastic. It is a
vivid, often dramatic, verbal description of a visual work of art, either real
or imagined” (Wikipedia)</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Parrot
may not learn to sing, but at least he’ll know what singing is</i>” (J.
Winterson)</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(4)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->When asking Google about “literary descriptions
of music” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>brings me to this very relevant blogpost : <span class="MsoHyperlink"><a href="http://nachumschoffmanthoughts.com/?page=DESCRIPTIONSOFMUSICINLITERATURE">http://nachumschoffmanthoughts.com/?page=DESCRIPTIONSOFMUSICINLITERATURE</a></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(5)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Ignace Bossuyt : ”Van noten en tonen – Wegwijs
in muzikale begrippen”</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(6)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">When
asking Google about ‘Romain Rolland et la musique’ :<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><a href="https://association-romainrolland.org/image_articles13/Jeanneret13.pdf">https://association-romainrolland.org/image_articles13/Jeanneret13.pdf</a></span>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>« <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Le nom de Rolland, qui suffisait entre les
deux guerres à évoquer un modèle littéraire et social est tombé dans
l’oubli </i>», « <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">figure effacée
de l’Europe</i> »<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>« <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">le modèle d’écrivain-musicien</i> »<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(7)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Dover books still exists, but in a ‘restructured’
and slimmed down form, apperently focusing now on colouring books for adults. And
I’m not the only one paying tribute to their former sustainable publishing ethos
: <a href="https://contingentmagazine.org/2020/02/23/this-is-a-permanent-book/">https://contingentmagazine.org/2020/02/23/this-is-a-permanent-book/</a>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(8)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->“the natural <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>elements” – we’d almost forgotten about them
in our advanced societies. To our horror we now discover our fragility, our helplessness,
for instance, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in the face of floodings. The
human death toll, the destroyed houses and infrastructure of course command our
first concern, but how pitiful, too, those muddy heaps of books and paper files
spoiled by the water. </p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">(9)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->photo-disclaimer & additional book : this is
a photo of two books, the Dover book (as mentioned) and another lovely book on
Monteverdi by Actes Sud– published back in 2004, and bought second hand, still
in great condition, 17 years later. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
PC from that the early 2000s is long in the scrap yard, and the ZIP drives on
which I prudently <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>saved my back ups are inaccessible
now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p></blockquote><p><br /></p><p> </p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-2488590721765009492021-04-05T06:00:00.002-07:002021-04-05T06:00:55.014-07:00Landscapes on the Window Sill<p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtz31pS5WpZCFhyphenhyphenFfHcAGr3ayiQmYR_ehL8lDXhmT0jOTCNAZto6ysQDov93aG6TXS960XP-yKxb5nzEO66hV0ZdFrQ6luyiikx7DFd6BeZyBNJwV2FfsweLH2oEWfafGUN9lORNriKUXk/s2048/laviesilencieuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtz31pS5WpZCFhyphenhyphenFfHcAGr3ayiQmYR_ehL8lDXhmT0jOTCNAZto6ysQDov93aG6TXS960XP-yKxb5nzEO66hV0ZdFrQ6luyiikx7DFd6BeZyBNJwV2FfsweLH2oEWfafGUN9lORNriKUXk/w200-h200/laviesilencieuse.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Still lives and landscape paintings do have a lot in common.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For one, books about them amiably share
space on my window sill, equally exposed to the spring light filtering through the curtains.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More to the point, they both do invite contemplation - not
needing a story to unfold, nor showing a human character to be assessed. They
just let the self quietly watch, observe and love its surroundings.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To my great joy I recently found another book on Jacob van Ruisdael
("Windmills and Water Mills" by Seymour Slive) to complement the old The Hague catalogue (pictured) that I once picked up in a second hand bookshop. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I have vivid & happy memories of the spacious Van
Ruisdael paintings I could see over the years in continental European museums.
So in this new book I discovered with all the more wonderment <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pictures of paintings in UK and US collections
I had never seen before. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Look, how Van Ruisdael paints this man in a red jacket on a background
of silvery greens, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>anticipating Corot’s
happy red & shimmering grey chromaticism. (see: <a href="https://www.getty.edu/art/collection/objects/699/jacob-van-ruisdael-two-watermills-and-an-open-sluice-dutch-1653/" target="_blank">Two Undershot Water Mills with an Open Sluice</a> )<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there, what an amazing riverscape – <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>like a busy ,
industrious vedute painted by an Italian. (see: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panoramic_view_of_the_Amstel_looking_toward_Amsterdam#/media/File:Jacob_van_Ruisdael_-_View_on_the_Amstel_Looking_towards_Amsterdam.jpg">Panoramic view of the river Amstel looking toward Amsterdam</a> )</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzKzuXnpLr-pd7Cjmss4I_ogXIPagE1Y7ZdfS1w0f6YtVi_aajP8rPzzi22iwfHvaijjSMIuvNe7GiCe5PuKLsIIua2L9RYAYuNCWvGEB2CkzkXnvvb3wXBp_w6EchVZ7gl2_UuXUC2jP/s624/Jacob_van_Ruisdael_-_View_on_the_Amstel_Looking_towards_Amsterdam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzKzuXnpLr-pd7Cjmss4I_ogXIPagE1Y7ZdfS1w0f6YtVi_aajP8rPzzi22iwfHvaijjSMIuvNe7GiCe5PuKLsIIua2L9RYAYuNCWvGEB2CkzkXnvvb3wXBp_w6EchVZ7gl2_UuXUC2jP/s320/Jacob_van_Ruisdael_-_View_on_the_Amstel_Looking_towards_Amsterdam.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-48865423167778202021-02-07T06:33:00.001-08:002021-02-07T06:33:33.621-08:00murky harmonies (a feeling for snow)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfdZZhqHNHNT2FSO-Yd1bLW9h6ziFNqCiUQd-RevlP7YHwe2Lp7ITIfqrxxDIk_v0pYIYUYkgROWVPb7EQIH9iELuqdqxmEibwahAWylhLVMr-RU5RVEeIpkVkVxTmUt5qt9gtYpqcsk-/s1908/winter+wood3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1908" data-original-width="1908" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfdZZhqHNHNT2FSO-Yd1bLW9h6ziFNqCiUQd-RevlP7YHwe2Lp7ITIfqrxxDIk_v0pYIYUYkgROWVPb7EQIH9iELuqdqxmEibwahAWylhLVMr-RU5RVEeIpkVkVxTmUt5qt9gtYpqcsk-/w200-h200/winter+wood3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p>I had even dreamt about it …. about thick layers of snow keeping us inside, about the whole world turned white. So I woke, filled with expectation, not even minding the early hour which ruined my Sunday rest. I pulled back the curtains, and … bof …. some white patches here and there – on rooftops, in gardens - some melting snow flocks twirling in the light of the street lamps. </p><p>But nothing like the avalanches of snow forecast the previous day. The young woman in the bakery shared my disappointment: “<i>all that fuss and then that </i>“, she said, while putting my croissants in a bag, and then pointing dismissively at the wet drizzle outside.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>But in these muffled, restrained times, we collectively try to make the most of what little pleasures the weather does bestow on us. In the Bois de la Cambre, adults and children alike had decided that even a millimeter of snow allowed to slide down slippery slopes on a sled. Slithering & tumbling, their excited cries echoed amongst the trees. <p></p><p>And I too came to appreciate this particular wintry & wet mixture – not the dazzling white of a snowy landscape, but the murky harmony of earthy browns & grey mixed with broken white. The kind of scrambled dusky landscape the 19th century painter <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=guillaume+vogels&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiXs8aD_NfuAhWVu6QKHXKyCuwQ_AUoAXoECAcQAw&biw=1440&bih=757" target="_blank">Guillaume Vogels </a>was so keen to render. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4hJUGBIREixahC9c4CNVg2P6TVPifhwPGHZ3wQSPGql5Qu_znPKx1uut7uUNL3FsPiofvvQ8vhKLItMrXq0nDuQ-3MCWIO1smDraOl0XSeSAFHTa-xzBFlzIVDUfv6zLs23CMYE5z4Rd/s2000/guillaume+vogels+neige+soir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="2000" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv4hJUGBIREixahC9c4CNVg2P6TVPifhwPGHZ3wQSPGql5Qu_znPKx1uut7uUNL3FsPiofvvQ8vhKLItMrXq0nDuQ-3MCWIO1smDraOl0XSeSAFHTa-xzBFlzIVDUfv6zLs23CMYE5z4Rd/w400-h270/guillaume+vogels+neige+soir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-80036732118614538152021-01-02T06:43:00.000-08:002021-01-02T06:43:48.413-08:00An Alchemy of Fragments<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“As we know, the fragment, the never-ending promise of Romanticism, is
still the influential ideal of the modern age.”<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br />While aimlessly browsing in the bookshop (a recognised ‘essential
activity’), my eye fell on a small hardcover book, quietly appealing with its hushed
tones of black & silvery greys. It
had an old black&white photo on its cover - maybe of a 19<sup>th</sup>
century museum room, high-ceilinged and empty but for a man wearing a black
coat & a hat, standing stiffly next to the entrance doorpost. A greyish circle was superposed on the top
corner of this photo, looking like the pitted surface of the moon (?), almost
fully covering another brilliant silver circle underneath. Enscribed in silvery letters within the circle,
the title stated dryly <span class="MsoHyperlink"><a href="https://www.meridiaanuitgevers.com/boeken/inventaris-van-enkele-verliezen" target="_blank">"Inventaris van enkele verliezen" </a> (</span><span class="MsoHyperlink"> <a href="https://www.ndbooks.com/book/an-inventory-of-losses/" target="_blank"><i>"Inventory of losses"</i></a> ). </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>author’s name (Judith Schalansky) was unknown
to me - but somehow seemed to fit the aura of bygone erudition which exuded from the little book. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And what a treasure the little book proves to be! It’s a
pleasure to handle, with its firm cover and its pages of a heavy, smooth paper.
The chapters are marked by pitch-black pages, each showing a darkly shimmering
ghostly picture evoking the chapter’s subject. While manipulating the book to
catch the light under different angles, peering into the black, one can with
some effort make out the picture of some ruin, or the fragments of some text,
or the remains of an ancient map. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Out of the revealing debris, the architect, who will not build a
single house in his entire life, designs the floor plan of a dreamed past and
at the same time the vision of an entirely new creation, which fascinates more
people in its copper engravings than any structure chained to the ground and
the soil ever would.”</i></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9DtLOtOI2gDqACFZCCcw2PFKt297ApliC5AgbrGeBDsl_JlR4nnNV1nYFnroBiNvIcaU9pr2pMThI2paCCz8E9zrSOsGAqOUdDY_y6GCYH-B9dV1hzEZ9pG5k-jTuUkTHv9h-b3qytF6u/s2048/Villa+Sacchetti_Hubert_Robert_Europeana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1643" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9DtLOtOI2gDqACFZCCcw2PFKt297ApliC5AgbrGeBDsl_JlR4nnNV1nYFnroBiNvIcaU9pr2pMThI2paCCz8E9zrSOsGAqOUdDY_y6GCYH-B9dV1hzEZ9pG5k-jTuUkTHv9h-b3qytF6u/s320/Villa+Sacchetti_Hubert_Robert_Europeana.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></div><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The book feeds on the human fascination with past civilizations
and long lost cultural artefacts, it cherishes how a few rare remaining
fragments can nourish the imagination of generations to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Schalansky’s own imagination and dazzling command
of language can resurrect a lost tiger species, minutely describing a fight during
a Colosseum spectacle in ancient Rome (1) , she can lead us into the minds of 18th century engravers
and painters of antique ruins (2), or vividly evoke the lost books &
visions of a perished world religion (3).<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">“ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only the writing will be proved right and will
survive, will weigh as much as the material which records it : a lump of black basalt,
a table of burnt clay, the squeezed fibers of the papyrus plants, of the stiff
leaf of a palm</i> ”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The book embodies the human condition of transience, meditating
on the sheer impossibility to remember everything forever <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– not even when hewn in stone, nor when kept in
bits&bytes, and not even in an archive on the moon (4). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at the same time, her book is a tribute
to libraries and museums and archives, noting how “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on periods of extraordinary negligence follow phases of excessive care</i>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her book is also living proof of how the
human imagination can travel through the ages and around the globe, only feeding
on some lingering old texts & images, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>without ever leaving one’s home town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sharing the intrepidity of the explorers & philosophers of bygone ages, Schalansky does not eschew <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>eschatological visions, including the ultimate
end of our universe (5). But for now, here on earth, Schalansky’s own writing,
her playful gravitas (6) glimmering with wisdom & beauty, makes one hope that
at least the language will remain, as an enduring repository of all
human experience. (7) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><u>Fragmentary Notes<o:p></o:p></u></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Kaspische Tijger – Het Oude Rome / <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Caspian Tiger – Ancient Rome</i></li><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Villa Sacchetti – Valle Inferno (on Piranese,
Hubert Robert) </li><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->De Zeven Boeken van Mani – Babylonië / <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Seven Books of Mani - Babylonia</i></li><li><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">Kinaus
selenografieën – Lacus Luxuriae / <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kinaus
selenographies - Lacus Luxuriae</i><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->« het verre uur waarin de centrale ster zal
opbranden en samen met de zon al de bij haar ingedeelde hemellichamen zullen
verdampen » <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">« the distant hour
in which the central star will burn up and together with the sun all the
celestial bodies around <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it will
evaporate</i>”</li><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Schalansky’s melancholy evocations of losses
remind one of course of WG Sebald – but her tone is more cheerful, because the
losses are from a more distant past and therefore less laden with regret &
guilt. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></li><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->repositories of words brought to life in a conspiracy
between writers & readers – together silently reviving entire lost worlds <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></li><li><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]-->all quotes are from the Dutch version “Inventaris
van enkele verliezen”, shamelessly using Google<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>for the English translation.</li></ol><!--[if !supportLists]--><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-24866273755580535462020-11-01T06:50:00.001-08:002020-11-01T06:50:36.827-08:00In Praise of a Patient & Weighty Book<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBaxOgICNNt0EjCcy1phcD_F9czt0PAN3S82I4b7jzpKxUO9HlqkKJxtVhl6eCVqPDSXQtPdGcs4mFTIC10d9ZqcSIVxA7nzg8LHfNFshVqxWvt7JP-Al-sC8kdlwMAm6FCpbkJaPXzWv/s2048/a+heavy+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1371" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBaxOgICNNt0EjCcy1phcD_F9czt0PAN3S82I4b7jzpKxUO9HlqkKJxtVhl6eCVqPDSXQtPdGcs4mFTIC10d9ZqcSIVxA7nzg8LHfNFshVqxWvt7JP-Al-sC8kdlwMAm6FCpbkJaPXzWv/w400-h268/a+heavy+book.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>The reigning tech aesthetic is all about gleaming smoothness
(1) and instantaneous sensations, with algorithms creating a digital universe tailored
to our impulsive needs. (2)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The book laying before me, was, on its own, a formidable
counter-weight (3) to the fleeting lightness of our virtual lives. It weighed
at least 3 kilos, its cloth cover was rough to the touch and its pages made of
heavy paper were stitched by thread. Merely
leafing through the book was a slow tactile experience of a reassuring gravity.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This weighty book had been very patient, before at last getting
my full attention. Published in 1964, I
has acquired it in 2013 in a second hand bookshop, where it has seduced me by
its title, “<i>Le message de l’Absolu</i>” (4) and by its bulkiness, giving weight to whatever
message it might convey. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The book had been close to being discarded as ballast last
summer, during one of those fateful fits to get rid of too many accumulated things in
order to create a tabula rasa, if not in
one’s life, then at least in one’s home. Those are perilous moments, when one might disavow everything
one ever valued - throwing it out a as being irrelevant, no
longer in tune with the times. (5) <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But the book had survived the clean-up rage, and on this
stormy autumn day, it proved to be just the grave companion that I needed in
these uncertain times. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Written in 1964 by <a href="https://alchetron.com/Germain-Bazin#germain-bazin-501c02ac-ff8e-49ac-aeb9-fd95b63a231-resize-750.jpeg" target="_blank">Germain Bazin</a>, a French art historian
born in 1901, the book combines a classical erudition with a very modern sense
of anxiety and doubt. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Having studied with the eminent French art historians Henri
Focillon and Emile Mâle (6), and having gone on to make a distinguished career as
curator at the Louvre, Germain Bazin was of course well placed to tell once
again the fascinating story of western art from its earliest beginnings, as a
succession of different formal expressions of human meanings & longings, each
capturing the essence of an era, and all part of a single history of art (7) … until the 20<sup>th</sup> Century. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Having lived through two wars and witnessing a rapidly changing
world, Germain Bazin combines an understanding of the inevitability of modern
art’s radical break with tradition with the nostalgia of someone who realizes that all he has valued most during
his life is disappearing fast. He
captures the implosion of western art mirroring the upheavals of the 20th century.
He evokes the perplexities of art, and of all humanist exercises in imagination
& understanding, in an era in which science has lifted as it were the lid on
the world’s phenomena – confounding our intuitions. And finally, he
wonders about the contemporaneity of our lost belief in transcendence (be
it of the divine or humanist kind) with the end of high art’s pursuit of harmony
and beauty.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="FR"><i>« de la
figure humaine éclatée comme par l’effet d’un explosive, le peintre rassemble
les morceaux ne suivant d’autre loi que l’incongru. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span lang="FR"><i>Ces puzzles ricanant sont
peut-être les expressions les plus typiques de cette discontinuité chaotique […]</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span lang="FR"> </span>que des fragments de formes en liberté que rien ne convie à l’unité d’où naît l’harmonie »
(8</i>)</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR"> </span><span lang="FR"> </span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="FR"><u> Que des fragments</u></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><span lang="FR"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR"><a href="https://www.actes-sud.fr/node/57195">« </a><i><a href="https://www.actes-sud.fr/node/57195">Sauvons
le beau: l'esthétique à l'ère numérique </a>; l’esthétique du lisse</i>» de
Byung-Chul Han / « Saving beauty » – « aesthetics of the smooth »<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->algorithms do not second-guess our needs as
humans might do – they systematically crunch our behavioural data, compare these
with huge pools of other peoples’ data and then predict what we’re most likely
to click on, what will most likely grab our attention. These algorithms weren’t
designed out of a disinterested motivation to get to know us, nor in order to deepen
the understanding of human behaviour – but with a purely commercial motive, selling
advertising with the most views and the highest click-through rates. See the blow-by-blow , page-by-page dissection
by Shoshana Zuboff in «Surveillance Capitalism»</li><li><span lang="FR"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="FR">Germain
Bazin – « <i>Le message de l’Absolu </i>»<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->The message of the absolute …. lacking a religious
belief in the divine, the slumbering human longing for transcendence, has long
pinned its hope on human art or ethics to transcend our struggling condition. </li><li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Western civilisation at large has often had these
destructive moments, if only to afterwards expiate the destruction &
oblivion by painstaking historical research and the building of museums. </li><li><span lang="FR"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]-->in the early chapters one still can catch that
whiff of lyrical art history, seeing the artist as a sublimation of human
longing : “<i>du fond de sa nature exilée
dans l’imparfait, il entend sourdre l’appel vers la perfection”[…] </i><i><span lang="FR">“pour
évoquer en eux un élan vers les sublimes clartés</span></i><span lang="FR">”. </span>But
there’s also of course the stern admonishing
of a rigorous ageing art historian defending the seriousness of his trade against
purely subjective art appreciation: “ <i>[…]
se fiant à son goût elle exerce son choix par la sensation pure. </i><i><span lang="FR">[…]
sentir ne suffit pas pour aimer, encore moins pour connaître et lorsque l’âge
amenuise cette faculté de sentir, il ne reste plus dans l’âme que la cendre des
souvenirs »</span></i></li><li><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->in a way art history has invented itself ,
producing an after the fact synopsis, a string of meaningful variations on a
fundamental human ‘kunstwollen’ , instead of a mere accumulation of random trials
& errors . </li><li><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">“ <i>of the
human figure, which is shattered as if by the effect of an explosive, the
painter brings together the pieces following no other law than the incongruous.
These sneering puzzles are perhaps the most typical expressions of this chaotic
discontinuity [...] as fragments of loose shapes, which nothing invites to the unity from which
harmony is born</i>”</span></li></ol><!--[if !supportLists]--><p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-75041241531441670992020-10-25T06:07:00.001-07:002020-10-25T06:07:52.863-07:00Cherish the light <p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BRP_GrDL2J4UeBEd1LYitGHQFObF_o0LuGLiVRKNDbHKvT9recDzzNTSHkHBoYX5oh0BLEoxqWsw2F-Qp56MRfl9n-xJ765oN5Z0nNbsKI_whHwZNOMc-eMCPfbaa7C5z0lWlQw4AsZv/s1699/cherish+the+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1699" data-original-width="1699" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BRP_GrDL2J4UeBEd1LYitGHQFObF_o0LuGLiVRKNDbHKvT9recDzzNTSHkHBoYX5oh0BLEoxqWsw2F-Qp56MRfl9n-xJ765oN5Z0nNbsKI_whHwZNOMc-eMCPfbaa7C5z0lWlQw4AsZv/w640-h640/cherish+the+light.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWtGB7TD24CS7Sku9KHY_K87kwKNYzGSSTqUdtotUEX33iWSVGGtzMyaP9riXlrr4xwVoYEWi4Kc21xIR5WKNx1_AEybickSXTqP4ryi972jSmlv4SSgN5-x_m8bAKSiavWBIfouk8Jh8/s2048/autumn+vision.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWtGB7TD24CS7Sku9KHY_K87kwKNYzGSSTqUdtotUEX33iWSVGGtzMyaP9riXlrr4xwVoYEWi4Kc21xIR5WKNx1_AEybickSXTqP4ryi972jSmlv4SSgN5-x_m8bAKSiavWBIfouk8Jh8/w640-h640/autumn+vision.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><blockquote><p style="text-align: center;">It's official, in order to make it through the long & dark Corona autumn, we are advised to cherish the light. </p></blockquote><p><br /></p><p> </p><blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"> </p></blockquote>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-19400920064554767072020-08-16T05:39:00.003-07:002020-08-16T05:39:55.136-07:00Heatwave in the City<p> The city had been smoldering for days. All that concrete, all that asphalt, all those stones - absorbing and compounding the heat. All those damned cars adding hot fumes to the hot air.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBdDEO_y4CNL5UxNHA8ZrjNz-tR55ay6043I5_07HE6lLm9ASSEw7K313C92bIkH1NG6qHulN-8B1xt12Xgm-Dsrv8EDHL8Faql9pvWT6fSesPCXk-QYnP5Far_-A6w5E10SStps8JvQT/s2048/heatwave+in+the+city3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1822" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNBdDEO_y4CNL5UxNHA8ZrjNz-tR55ay6043I5_07HE6lLm9ASSEw7K313C92bIkH1NG6qHulN-8B1xt12Xgm-Dsrv8EDHL8Faql9pvWT6fSesPCXk-QYnP5Far_-A6w5E10SStps8JvQT/s640/heatwave+in+the+city3.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Those city dwellers who hadn't escaped to the seaside, stayed inside, motionless behind drawn curtains. Only a few masked people dared to venture outside. One felt infinite gratefulness for any tree offering some shade, for any bush of roses, however lonely, able to conjure up visions of the Provence in an overheated brain.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZY32jtBDb5UN6wlSIcVoi1DQrvMot0kSLRZsfavFgdD3x4Xr03xzoql8a8JOH-qm2gSokBgmJet4KjMkvU8y0fc64mOBID-6ruLRq25Fw7ARct-6JYHIit14AwLdaCZz68JLnAvHrqCc/s2048/heatwave1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1370" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZY32jtBDb5UN6wlSIcVoi1DQrvMot0kSLRZsfavFgdD3x4Xr03xzoql8a8JOH-qm2gSokBgmJet4KjMkvU8y0fc64mOBID-6ruLRq25Fw7ARct-6JYHIit14AwLdaCZz68JLnAvHrqCc/s640/heatwave1.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>But then, at last, the wind picked up and rain started pouring down. One could almost hear a city wide sigh of relief, everybody throwing wide open their windows - in all streets and neighborhoods, from cramped basement flats to lavish lofts. </p><p> </p>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-10811482645182651932020-08-16T05:15:00.000-07:002020-08-16T05:15:21.397-07:00The Sea! The Sea! (or : Escape from an overheating city)<p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcR1FEGg67rlSicEds0FN1cKKPwu456pG_qweB88nU8kbBCbLCQdzoSmDe0w5eiqx_EbwBSlZPpVO484Ks3WpwXP6p7oCYVIQvIzhlk76AIDbHbmWloZcIFvrVfOEu3ojGEHY5zgV-lHCg/s2048/oostende_casino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcR1FEGg67rlSicEds0FN1cKKPwu456pG_qweB88nU8kbBCbLCQdzoSmDe0w5eiqx_EbwBSlZPpVO484Ks3WpwXP6p7oCYVIQvIzhlk76AIDbHbmWloZcIFvrVfOEu3ojGEHY5zgV-lHCg/w512-h342/oostende_casino.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There's more boulevard than sea, in this most urban of seaside towns. But the lines are dizzying - vanishing, whether sinuous or straight, whether earth bound or swirling in the sky. And the light, ah the light - benignly golden in the evening, from a sun hovering between sky and sea, after a day of mercilessly beating down on us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQfRDeg0Cipi2b89VqSHgBptSXcw6h08Iwe_aYWRN9eoxQBzYzQtKz2MiZR2x1eUT30eUvDugLCj8dkmVGwwIOUCPStod7k9UE1Rix3TLgAdEb3aTbCXj9B0zrdRAGc4FMeli-eel6zu6/s2048/oostende_reflections.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQfRDeg0Cipi2b89VqSHgBptSXcw6h08Iwe_aYWRN9eoxQBzYzQtKz2MiZR2x1eUT30eUvDugLCj8dkmVGwwIOUCPStod7k9UE1Rix3TLgAdEb3aTbCXj9B0zrdRAGc4FMeli-eel6zu6/w512-h342/oostende_reflections.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Rain at last - vaporizing on the hot tiles - saturating the air with water. Cooling tempers and soothing frayed nerves. What a strange summer it is, with a heatwave compounding the sense of being trapped. </div>Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-62274187672661335382020-05-23T08:35:00.000-07:002020-05-24T06:07:01.602-07:00Splendour & Insecurity (1)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Through an open window a saxophone pleads wistfully – a sultry sound so well suited to the quiet streets of a city slowly emerging from
its lockdown. This day in May feels like a lazy sweltering day in high summer. Restaurants
& cafés are still closed – there are few cars. Some people are strolling
about aimlessly, or sitting on benches, talking quietly (mostly keeping their distance
and often wearing masks), or patiently queuing for a shop, forming lines of people
standing still, at 1.5 metres apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This Spring has been strangely splendid – pouring out sun light
and bird song as never before, in a quieted down, limpid city. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Spring has been strangely insecure, with
a permanent sense of dread. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The ever optimist and resolute colleague at work casually
mentions at the end of a conference call on Friday “on attend les résultats du
test pour ma mère – mas je ne pense pas que ce soit covid , ça fait déjà 3 semaines
qu’elle traîne cette bronchite “. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And on
Monday you hear her mother died in hospital.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The woman at the bakery shop is as friendly as ever, but she
looks tired and her tone is subdued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“it’s
difficult, it’s very difficult – many of our clients are simply gone - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the students, the office workers buying sandwiches
– they’re all gone now, at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><i>On espère qu’ils vont revenir. On espère pouvoir
tenir encore quelques mois”.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the city slowed down, the parks were lavishly full - of the
lushest greens and of so many people joyously skating, cycling, jogging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And now, people are already eagerly returning
to their lives after the easing of restrictions, enjoying whatever is again
permitted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(as to myself, in a single week
I happily managed to put in a visit, duly masked, to the bookshop, the classical
music shop and the old masters museum).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But in the longer run, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>frankly, I’ve no idea how fragile or how resilient
“we” (our world, our generation, our society) will prove to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know whether history can be a guide here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In art & music historical terms I‘ve
always been astonished by the prevalence of hardship & pestilence in the most
glorious art periods – perplexed by this enduring human capacity to paint,
write, sculpt and compose works of lasting beauty amidst <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>plagues & wars & upheaval. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was it because the elite (patrons and artists) in those
times were relatively shielded from hardship? Or was it rather because of their sheer helplessness
in the face of disaster – they could not but <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>long for another world, they could not but believe
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in transcendence, which made the pursuit
of beauty and harmony (<i>ad maiorem gloriam dei)</i> worthwhile even (or especially) in
the darkest circumstances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our age is so different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps we seek less solace in escapist flights of the mind, in
creations of great beauty because we feel empowered to analyse and act rationally, because we trust in science and technology and entrepreneurship to improve our material lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Maybe, perhaps.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N0tyBnPVQquD8zu_vbXIMRBUslue9XzTjN9bnaKHMpzOYI25_fDHm53MGJvqInwK-xsHksIIv8S9o0yGGJFn7r6Dws0yj0CGo8ex9AoSuBAVVYuT1_rcsjcoZLjdMT87P_2R2eWkV9Ml/s1600/a+worldscape+with+a+man+gazing+beyond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N0tyBnPVQquD8zu_vbXIMRBUslue9XzTjN9bnaKHMpzOYI25_fDHm53MGJvqInwK-xsHksIIv8S9o0yGGJFn7r6Dws0yj0CGo8ex9AoSuBAVVYuT1_rcsjcoZLjdMT87P_2R2eWkV9Ml/s320/a+worldscape+with+a+man+gazing+beyond.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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<u> Fragments from past months’ reading :</u> <u><o:p></o:p></u></div>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The juxtaposition of “<i>Splendour & Insecurity</i>” (as hallmark of a sophisticated yet anguished civilisation) was found in Runciman’s book on Byzantine Style and Civilisation<br />
<br />
2.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From a book on Titian (Filippo Pedrocco)<br />
<i>« An awareness of impending death weighs heavily on the paintings Titian was working on in the summer of 1576, when Venice was devastated by a terrible plague which was to kill his favorite son Orazio [and himself]» </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
3.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From a book on Byzantium (Steven Runciman):<br />
<i>«There were ghastly visitations of the plague : the Black death in 1346 killed probably a third of the population of Constantinople.» </i><br />
<i>«Against this background of foreign invasion and civil war, of plague and poverty there flourished in Constantinople a civilisation more brilliant than any that Byzantium had known before.» </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
4.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From a book on the Franco-Flemish Polyphonists (<a href="https://www.lannoo.be/nl/het-landschap-van-de-polyfonisten">Paul Van Nevel</a>)<br />
<i>« De pest richtte tussen 1438 en 1439 een ravage aan in de Kamerijkse gebieden, waar soms tot tachtig procent van de bevolking bezweek aan de epidemie. De beroemde polyfonist Jacob Obrecht stierf in 1505 onverwacht aan de pest, net als zijn collega Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, de hoofdstad van Picardië, moesten de kerkhoven uitgebreid worden, omdat ‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ” » </i><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br />
<i>« The plague wreaked havoc in the Cambrian areas between 1438 and 1439, where sometimes up to eighty percent of the population succumbed to the epidemic. The famous polyphonist Jacob Obrecht died unexpectedly of the plague in 1505, just like his colleague Alexander Agricola. In Amiens, the capital of Picardy, the cemeteries had to be extended because “‘les gens se moeurent si soudainement comme du soir au matin et souvent plus tost ”»</i><br />
<div>
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</div>
<br />Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-88789101715053530312020-05-01T08:11:00.000-07:002020-05-01T08:11:27.737-07:00Locked Down Night<br />
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<br />Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-43961303499033654572020-04-13T04:15:00.000-07:002020-04-13T04:15:03.872-07:00Easter Lockdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5281402533658280011.post-74269943324889425092020-03-08T07:53:00.000-07:002020-03-08T07:53:52.114-07:00Time will tell<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"At the beginning of the 7th century, the Mediterranean world
is in crisis. The pax romana is a distant memory. The invasions, epidemics and
wars have undermined the economy, discredited the values of yesteryear and
generalized the disarray. Everyone withdraws into the safety of their own
community, behind their walls, under the aegis of local potentates. This
general decline paves the way for millenarianism. (1)"</i></blockquote>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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In times of upheaval I find it good practice to withdraw quietly
in a room, reading a history book - far from raging viruses, be they biological
or digital.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But while historical distance may put into perspective the issues
of the day, it is not a sure recipe for Olympian calm. Because history abundantly
shows that humankind is not that good at managing crises. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> So one still needs to comfort one self: </span>we do are better equipped
now, aren’t we – with our immense progress in science, in technology. And we do have
collectively become more rational, haven’t we? <o:p></o:p></div>
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Taking the historical perspective, one also wonders about the future: what collective
conclusions will we draw in due time? Which societal weaknesses will have been exposed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which regimes will have proven to be better
able to cope? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Will democratic market economies driven by economic self-interest turn out to be better or worse at managing a collective crisis than centrally planned autocracies?
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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Time will tell. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<u>A bookish note:</u></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<ol>
<li>Pascal Dayez-Burgeon – “Byzance la Secrète” : one of the best
books on Byzantium I have read – telling its story not only as an allegory on the
tragedy & transience of power, but also showing the significance of its
history, the enduring meaning of how it had organised and represented itself. Not
just a vanquished empire, not just a lost civilisation without heirs, but a 1000 years story we can still engage with. </li>
<li>Original French:</li>
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<i><span lang="FR">“Au début du
VIIième siècle, le monde méditerranéen est en crise. La pax romana n’est plus
qu’un souvenir. Les invasions, les épidémies et les guerres ont sapé
l’économie, discrédité les valeurs d’antan et généralisé le désarroi. Chacun se
calfeutre dans sa communauté, à l’abri de ses murailles, sous l’égide de
potentats locaux. </span>Ce repli généralisé est propice au millénarisme.”</i></div>
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Ffflaneurhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04697821220291240079noreply@blogger.com2