"That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful." ~Edgar Allan Poe / "Understood in its metaphysical sense, Beauty is one of the manifestations of the Absolute Being. Emanating from the harmonious rays of the Divine plan, it crosses the intellectual plane to shine once again across the natural plane, where it darkens into matter." ~Jean Delville
To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful, ready always to apprehend in the flow of language the sudden flash of poetry.
~G. Bachelard
I would define the poetic effect as the capacity that a text displays for continuing to generate different readings, without ever being completely consumed.
~Umberto Eco
Innate in nearly every artistic nature is a wanton, treacherous penchant for accepting injustice when it creates beauty and showing sympathy for and paying homage to aristocratic privilege.
~Thomas Mann
Stay, little ounce, here in/ Fleece and leaf with me, in the evermore/ Where swans trembled in the lake around our bed of hay and morning/ Came each morning like a felt cloak billowing/ Across the most pale day. It was the color of a steeple disappearing/ In an old Venetian sky. (...)
Would they take/ You now from me, like Leonardo's sleeve disappearing in/ The air. And when I woke I could not wake/ You, little sphinx, I could not keep you here with me./ Anywhere, I could not bear to let you go. Stay here/ In our clouded bed of wind and timothy with me./ Lie here with me in snow.
~For a Snow Leopard in October, Lucie Brock-Broido
Showing posts with label Chinese ceramics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chinese ceramics. Show all posts
Being broken by an inferior essence, a failed poem of pretense is made even more poetic than the knees of an antiquarian butterfly.
—“a violent slap of the exquisite” (a melody from the New Aristocrats manifesto)
Very drawn to artist Lukas Wegwerth's series of ceramic works “Crystallisation” displayed at Maison & Objet, Paris— “The sure, sweet cement, lime and glue of love”* oozing out of celadon crazing of yore... (*Robert Herrick, The Kiss)
All I may, if small, Do it not display Larger for the Totalness — ’Tis Economy To bestow a World And withhold a Star — Utmost, is Munificence — Less, tho’ larger, poor.
~Emily Dickinson, from The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime (CXIII.)
“Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before—more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.”
—Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.” —Edvard Munch
The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—
~Emily Dickinson
Troisième Symphonie de Gustav Mahler Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris (Nolwenn Daniel & Christophe Duquenne, Mélanie Hurel & Alessio Carbone)
Deuxième Mouvement: Printemps
Choréographie de John Neumeier
W. S. Merwin's poetry never ceases to move me... his words and images create a realm of soundless music where I long to be, where poetic yearning is such poignant and yet quiet beauty.
With what stillness at last you appear in the valley your first sunlight reaching down to touch the tips of a few high leaves that do not stir as though they had not noticed and did not know you at all then the voice of a dove calls from far away in itself to the hush of the morning so this is the sound of you here and now whether or not anyone hears it this is where we have come with our age our knowledge such as it is and our hopes such as they are invisible before us untouched and still possible
~"To the New Year," by W. S. Merwin
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And my beloved Emily... on this new day.
It's all I have to bring today—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget
Some one the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
~"It's all I have to bring today," by Emily Dickinson
A fine and rare celadon-glazed shell-shaped brush washer, seal mark and period of Qianlong.
Photo credit: Sotheby's.
Clouds part after the morning rain, colour of the sky,
Such is the colour of the days beyond.
白如玉、薄如纸、明如镜、聲如磐。
Fair as jade, fine as paper, brilliant as mirror, and sounds of grandeur.
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“You could say that when I slowly descended those rarely used steps to the small, always deserted beach, I was making use of a magical process in order to bring myself closer to the possible monad that is my self.”
~Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
“...having shed its bright load, the relieved leaf unbent. Tip, leaf, dip, relief - the instant it all took to happen seemed to me not so much a fraction of time as a fissure in it, a missed heartbeat, which was refunded at once by a patter of rhymes: I say 'patter' intentionally, for when a gust of wind did come, the trees would briskly start to drip all together in as crude an imitation of the recent downpour as the stanza I was already muttering resembled the shock of wonder I had experienced when for a moment heart and leaf had been one.”
~Vladimir Nabokov, Speak, Memory
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*Two paintings by Whistler: “Nocturne Blue and Silver - Cremorne Lights” (1872) & “Nocturne, Blue and Silver: Battersea Reach”
Whistler’s emphasis on sensation and atmosphere over detailed description has been compared by some to the philosophy underpinning Gardner’s whole museum. “I see the entire museum as a correlative to these shadowy tone poems,’’ wrote the poet and critic Wayne Koestenbaum of Whistler’s nocturnes. (The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum)
Joseph Mallord William Turner (1775-1851), On Lake Lucerne, looking towards Fluelen, around 1841. Watercolour, with scraping out and marks made with the thumb, over graphite on wove paper, 223 x 283mm. The Courtauld Gallery, London.
‘The aim of the great inventive landscape painter must be to give the far higher and deeper truth of mental vision, rather than that of the physical facts.’~John Ruskin
Tear stains of the feather-light ivory glaze And two faintest lotuses etched by the sharpest From the farthest melodies of the Silk Road Echoed the most lingering fragrance, that left me With ancient music, and Everlasting time in asphyxia
Between all the different shades of blue, there is form. And then there is the absence of form ― a freedom from resolution. There is music.
清 刺繡 峰頭十丈 Embroidery painting from Qing Dynasty, China.
Girl with a Pearl Earring, 1665, by Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675).
Vase of Flowers with Blue Ground, 1956, by Sanyu 常玉。
“... if you then consider none but those whose discriminating vision has been refined through contact with literature and art, he was convinced that the eye of that individual who dreams of ideal beauty, who craves illusions, who seeks some mystery in his women, is as a rule attracted to blue and its derivatives...”
Pierre Fournier plays Zoltán Kodály Sonata for Solo Cello, Opus 8. Recorded in November, 1960.
北宋 官窯青瓷 Guan ware, Northern Song Dynasty, China.
元 鈞窯 天藍紫斑如意枕 Jun ware, Yuan Dynasty, China.
The Painter to the Moon, 1917, by Marc Chagall (1887-1985).
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Arnold Schoenberg: String Quartet No. 3, Op. 30, Movement I (1927). Recorded in 1937 by the Kolisch Quartet under Schoenberg's supervision.
Arnold Schoenberg: String Quartet No. 4, Op. 37 (1936). Recorded in 1969 by LaSalle Quartet.
Turquoise Wine Jar, Ming Dynasty, China.
Althea, 1895, by John White Alexander (1856-1915).
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Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade, Symphonic Suite, Opus 35. The Sea and Sinbad's Ship/ Conductor: André Previn; Orchestra: Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra.
北宋汝窯青瓷橢圓洗/ Ru ware, Northern Song Dynasty, China.
Blue Waterlilies, 1919, by Claude Monet
“The word itself has another color. It’s not a word with any resonance, although the e was once pronounced. There is only the bump now between b and l, the relief at the end, the whew. It hasn’t the sly turn which crimson takes halfway through, yellow’s deceptive jelly, or the rolled-down sound in brown. It hasn’t violet’s rapid sexual shudder or like a rough road the irregularity of ultramarine, the low puddle in mauve like a pancake covered in cream, the disapproving purse to pink, the assertive brevity of red, the whine of green.”
― William H. Gass, On Being Blue: A Philosophical Inquiry, 2007.
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Hilary Hahn plays Schoenberg Violin Concerto, Op. 36 (1936). Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen.
Leonard Pennario plays Sergei Prokofiev Vision Fugitives, Opus 22. Complete score: 1. Lentamente 1:10, 2. Andante 1:20, 3. Allegretto 0:49, 4. Animato 0:40, 5. Molto giocoso 0:27, 6. Con eleganza 0:37, 7. (Arpa) Pittoresco 1:30, 8. Comodo 1:10, 9. Allegretto tranquillo 0:56, 10. Ridicolosamente 0:40, 11. Con vivacita 0:59.
Edvard Munch, Kiss by the Window, 1892, oil on canvas, 73 x 92cm, The National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design, Oslo.
Pablo Picasso, La soupe (The soup), 1902-1903, oil on canvas, 38.5 x 46cm, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto, Canada.
Claude Monet, Water Lilies, 1915, oil on canvas, 151.4 x 201cm, Neue Pinakothek, Munich, Germany.