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Da Li Volite..

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  On 25. 10. 2024. at 12:33, Klara said:

Za Nerudu...moram da kažem, zgadio mi se zbog njegovog priznanja da je silovao ženu koja je radila kod njega i zbog toga što je napustio i zapostavio teško obolelu kćer.

Ali, znam, potpuno je druga tema i dosta su složeni mehanizmi kad pesnik ili drugi umetnik, koji pokreće naše emocije, istovremeno može biti nečovek, nanoseći patnju drugom biću. I onda, da li treba i kako to razdvojiti, pa voleti njegova dela i emociju, a zanemariti takvu ličnost što ih je iznedrila. Jesu li to iskrene emocije ili instrumentalizovane...

 

Samo se nadovezujem, pošto sam lajkovala post sa njegovom pesmom, neću dalje, časna reč. : )

 

  On 25. 10. 2024. at 15:03, Boksi said:


+1

 

Dešava mi se i dan danas kada pročitam nešto što me oduševi da imam želju da pozovem autora (često pokojnog) da mu zahvalim. Ali mislim da je u većini slučajeva bolje znati što manje o osobi čije delo cenimo i čemu se divimo.
Imala sam tokom godina prilike da upoznam stvaraoce iz različitih sfera umetnosti. I nisam uspevala posle toga da razdvojim lik i delo. Čim taj lik postane stvaran sve čitam ili vidim u tom ključu. 

 

  On 25. 10. 2024. at 15:33, Ras said:

 

Teško je negovati taj princip anonimnosti autora u vreme dostupnosti svega, ali da, blizak mi je i na neki ga način primenjujem.

 

Ja licno ne znam kako se razdvaja lik i delo niti zasto bi se valjalo pretvarati da slon nije u prostoriji. Lik jeste u delu, cak i kada je anoniman, i ne znam sta bi tu cinjenicu moglo da promeni, pa i nase (toboze) neznanje. Naravno, niko nam ne brani da se trudimo da ne zarotiramo kaleidoskop, ali te druge slike i oblici nastavljaju da postoje. A idealizacije i projekcije svi mi ne poznajemo samo kod posebnih odnosa prema stvaraocima, vec i u svakodnevnom zivotu, zar ne? :) Zbog cega odnos prema delu i stvaraocu ne bi mogao da bude stvaran i zar to nije svrha umetnosti?  

Februar. Nabaviti mastila i plakati!

Jecajima o februaru pisati,

Dok tutnjajuća bljuzga

Prolećem mrkim plamti.

 

Reveal hidden contents

 

Čovjek večera u papučama svog oca

Što su bile granice sada si ti.
Bio je svibanj dubok i ravan,
cesta raskopana zbog radova, snijeg
suh i odjednom,
da kažem otvoreno:
nikome nisam dugovao ništa. 
Stajao sam u dovratku, voda
smrzla od straha močila mi je leđa.
A kad sam sklopio oči, vidio sam
kokice jure ka svojoj soli i znao
ponekad noću pocrne, kao brabonjci.
Ušao sam da se suočim s mučnom slikom:
ne ljubav, glupost, glupost je srce svijeta –
i sad u tim papučama unutra jedem i plačem,
samo jedem i plačem u kući.

Marko Pogačar

The Mower

 

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found   

A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,   

Killed. It had been in the long grass.

 

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.   

Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world   

Unmendably. Burial was no help:

 

Next morning I got up and it did not.

The first day after a death, the new absence   

Is always the same; we should be careful

 

Of each other, we should be kind   

While there is still time.

 

Philip Larkin

Smrtonosne gladi

 

Pitala je kako si
i nakon dugog ćutanja on se sjetio
godine 1616-te.
Žitelji oko rijeke Elbe
za vrijeme jedne od suša
i kao opomenu na smrtonosnu glad
napisali su na jednom njenom kamenu:
Ako me vidiš, plači.

 

Mensur Ćatić

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Edited by Klara

@Ras Podsetilo me je na tvoja pisanja, tvoje šetnje i tvoj postavljen sto.

 

 

Do not care if  you just arrive in your skeleton.

Would love to take a walk with you. Miss you.

Would love to make you shrimp saganaki.

Like you used to make me when you were alive.

Love to feed you. Sit over steaming

bowls of pilaf. Little roasted tomatoes

covered in pepper and nutmeg. Miss you.

Would love to walk to the post office with you.

Bring the ghost dog. We’ll walk past the waterfall

and you can tell me about the after.

Wish you. Wish you would come back for a while.

Don’t even need to bring your skin sack. I’ll know

you. I know you will know me even though. I’m

bigger now. Grayer. I’ll show you my garden.

I’d like to hop in the leaf pile you raked but if you

want to jump in? I’ll rake it for you. Miss you

standing looking out at the river with your rake

in your hand. Miss you in your puffy blue jacket.

They’re hip now. I can bring you a new one

if you’ll only come by. Know I told you

it was okay to go. Know I told you

it was okay to leave me. Why’d you believe me?

You always believed me. Wish you would

come back so we could talk about truth.

Miss you. Wish you would walk through my

door. Stare out from the mirror. Come through

the pipes.

 

Do not care if  you bring only your light body.

Would just be so happy to sit at the table

and talk about the menu. Miss you.

Wish we could bet which chilis they’ll put

on the cubes of tofu. Our favorite.

Sometimes green. Sometimes red. Roasted

we always thought. But so cold and fresh.

How did they do it? Wish you could be here

to talk about it like it was so important.

Wish you could. Watched you on the screens

as I was walking, as I was cooking. Wished you

could get out of the hospital. Can’t

bring myself to order our dish and eat it

in the car. Miss you laughing. Miss

you coming in from the cold or one

too many meetings. Laughing. I’ll order

already. I’ll order seven helpings, some

dumplings, those cold yam noodles that you

like. You can come in your light

body or skeleton or be invisible I don’t even

care. Know you have a long way to travel.

Know I don’t even know if it’s long

at all. Wish you could tell me. What

you’re reading. If you’re reading.

Miss you. I’m at the table in the back.

 

Gabrielle Calvocoressi

  • 2 weeks later...

Your absence has gone through me

like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its color.

W. S. Merwin

01.jpg

You walked, by chance, into a life I wasn’t proud of, and from that day, something started to change.

I breathed better, I hated less, I freely admired what was meant to be. Before you, without you, I adored nothing. That force, you once mocked, was never a lonely force, a force of rejection. With you, I have accepted more things. I have learned to live. That’s probably why i’ve always mixed my love with so much gratitude.

Sophie Calle

24f042f1d648f78ff9d2cdfd7519a59a6cba5148

  Quote

Sophie Calle is a French writer, photographer, installation artist, and conceptual artist.

Daughter of the contemporary art collector Robert Calle, Calle's work is distinguished by its use of arbitrary sets of constraints, and evokes the French literary movement known as Oulipo.
Her work frequently depicts human vulnerability, and examines identity and intimacy.
She is recognized for her detective-like tendency to follow strangers and investigate their private lives. Her photographic work often includes panels of text of her own writing.

image.png

  Quote

The quotidian nature of her photography is what makes the art feel intimate.

Calle’s documentation of love and testing the limits of intimacy is evident in her later piece, Take care of yourself.
After receiving a break-up email from her then lover, Calle recycles her pain and heartbreak into an art piece by sending a copy of this email to 104 women of various professions.
It is their job to interpret and analyze the email according to their skills—a fortune teller, a jurist, chess player, and ballerina all interpret the letter in their own ways. Merlino notes: “[They] split apart the personality of the lover and the dominion of the abandoned party into a certain number of described and recognizable ‘types.’ Thus they make him banal and deconsecrate him, and the rancor begins to give way.”

leto je topim se na podu ležim
lenjost mi ne dâ da se pomerim sa poda
klima podešena na najhladnije
simulacija tvog prisustva
i dok tako ležim, zamišljam ti i ja u
supermarketu
kupujemo i ono šta nam nije potrebno,
neka se nađe
dodaješ mi piškote, ko to uopšte jede danas
nikad nismo našli mir
ali svi ti duhovi, istorije bolesti, hronike neizrecivih mučnina
sve smo ih pripitomili
i svaki put kad naslonim glavu na tvoju ključnu kost
pomislim kako je udobno
linija moje volje na horizontu nestaje
živim za to
da s tobom sedim i gledam te-ve

O. Lakićević

  On 7. 4. 2025. at 23:32, Klara said:

leto je topim se na podu ležim
lenjost mi ne dâ da se pomerim sa poda
klima podešena na najhladnije
simulacija tvog prisustva
i dok tako ležim, zamišljam ti i ja u
supermarketu
kupujemo i ono šta nam nije potrebno,
neka se nađe
dodaješ mi piškote, ko to uopšte jede danas
nikad nismo našli mir
ali svi ti duhovi, istorije bolesti, hronike neizrecivih mučnina
sve smo ih pripitomili
i svaki put kad naslonim glavu na tvoju ključnu kost
pomislim kako je udobno
linija moje volje na horizontu nestaje
živim za to
da s tobom sedim i gledam te-ve

O. Lakićević

Jesi li išla na koncert Autoparka nedavno?

@Ras Ako misliš na 22. mart, nisam. : )

Ali jesam na onaj poslednji pre 5-6 godina. Volim Ognjenku, divna je i kao gost u Raljama osećanja. 🎀

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