Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
“Night thoughts have a different color than day thoughts, a different slant, more than anything else they know all the secret paths and chinks in the armor they can take advantage of to force their way into consciousness.”
-Christa Wolf, City of Angels or Overcoat of Dr. Freud
Image #1: Alain Manesson Mallet, View of the moon, 1719
Image #2: Earth Rise, Apollo 14, 1971
Title: Stanisław Lem, Hospital of the Transfiguration
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
I am too the memory of a sword
and of a solitary, falling sun,
turning itself to gold, then gray, then nothing.
I am the one who sees the approaching ships
from harbor. And I am the dwindled books,
the rare engravings worn away by time;
the one who envies those already dead.
Stranger to be the woman who interlaces
such words as these, in some room in a house.
Image: Christo and Jeanne Claude, Wrapped Trees, Fondation Beyeler and Berower Park, Riehen, Switzerland, 1997-98
Photo: Wolfgang Volz
Title: Edmond Jabès, The Book of Questions: Volume I [The Book of Yukel, Return to the Book], translated by Rosmarie Waldrop
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
The ‘second sight’ possessed by the Highlanders in Scotland is actually a foreknowledge of future events. I believe they possess this gift because they don’t wear trousers. That is also why in all countries women are more prone to utter prophecies.
Image: Fergus Feehily
Title: Mary Oliver, from the poem "Mindful"
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
That the sun can do this to us, every one of us
that the sun can do this to everything inside
the broken light refracted through leaves.
-Peter Gizzi, “Vincent, Homesick for the Land of Pictures”
Image: Francesca Woodman, Untitled, MacDowell Colony, Peterborough, New Hampshire, 1980 +
Title: Rilke (who else?), from Uncollected Poems
Monday, April 16, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
"Dorrego revealed the other sky, the boundless dome that sends you rushing to a dictionary for synonyms for ‘infinite’; stars that clustered, not into constellations, but into galaxies; stars like swarms of bees which suggested not stillness or permanence but movement, the trail of something, of someone that passed just now, a moment ago, when you weren’t looking. A sky that seemed to suddenly reveal the meaning of all things: Man’s need to create language to describe it, geography to explain his place within it, biology to remind him that he is a newcomer in this universe, and history, because everything is written in the sky above Dorrego."
-Marcelo Figueras, Kamchatka
photo: James Henkel, 2 Hands Sunspots
Saturday, January 28, 2012
“Whatever I wrote was surrounded by rays of light,” a young Raymond Roussel told his psychoanalyst, Pierre Janet. “I used to close the curtains, for I was afraid that the shining rays emanating from my pen might escape into the outside world through even the smallest chink; I wanted suddenly to throw back the screen and light up the world.”
Art: Joseph Beuys, Untitled, 1965