#bergotte

[booksandteaandstuff]

This writer who had taken Bergotte’s place in my affections wearied me not by the incoherence but by the novelty of associations — perfectly coherent — of associations which I was unaccustomed to following. The point, always the same, at which I felt myself falter indicated the identity of each renewed feat of acrobatics that I must undertake. Moreover, when once in a thousand times I did succeed in following the writer to the end of his sentence, what I saw there always had a humour, a truthfulness and a charm similar to those which I had found long ago in reading Bergotte, only more delightful. I reflected that it was not so many years since a renewal of the world similar to that which I now expected his successor to produce had been wrought for me by Bergotte himself. And I was led to wonder whether there was any truth in the distinction which we are always making between art, which is no more advanced now than in Homer's day, and science with its continuous progress. Perhaps, on the contrary, art was in this respect like science; each new writer seemed to me to have advanced beyond the stage of his immediate predecessor; and and who was to say whether twenty years' time, when I should be able to accompany without strain or effort the newcomer of today, another might not emerge in the face of whom the present one would go the way of Bergotte?

Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way, In Search of Lost Time

https://bookshop.org/a/12010/9780812969641

[metaphysicsinwater]

My parents meanwhile would have liked to see the intelligence that Bergotte had discerned in me made manifest in some remarkable achievement. When I still did not know the Swanns I thought that I was prevented from working by the state of agitation into which I was thrown by the impossibility of seeing Gilberte when I chose. But, now that their door stood open to me, scarcely had I sat down at my desk than I would rise and run to them. And after I had left them and was at home again, my isolation was only apparent, my mind was powerless to swim against the stream of words on which I had allowed myself mechanically to be borne for hours on end. Sitting alone, I continued to fashion remarks such as might have pleased or amused the Swanns, and to make this pastime more entertaining I myself took the parts of those absent players, I put to myself imagined questions, so chosen that my brilliant epigrams served merely as happy answers to them. Though conducted in silence, this exercise was none the less a conversation and not a meditation, my solitude a mental society in which it was not I myself but other imaginary speakers who controlled my choice of words, and in which I felt as I formulated, in place of the thoughts that I believed to be true, those that came easily to my mind, and involved no introspection from without, that kind of pleasure, entirely passive, which sitting still affords to anyone who is burdened with a sluggish digestion.

Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time 2: In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower

[talesofpassingtime]

"I’ll tell you who does need a good doctor, and that is our friend Swann,” said Bergotte. And on my asking whether he was ill, “Well, don’t you see, he’s typical of the man who has married a whore, and has to swallow a hundred serpents every day, from women who refuse to meet his wife, or men who were there before him. You can see them in his mouth, writhing. Just look, any day you’re there, at the way he lifts his eyebrows when he comes in, to see who’s in the room."

— Marcel Proust, Within a Budding Grove 

[inajar]

Tre quarti delle malattie delle persone intelligenti vengono dalla loro intelligenza.

Bergotte (ecco perché sono sano come una carpa)

[noumenalroom-deactivated20221021]

“One of the most moving moments for me in Proust is when the novelist Bergotte, who’s a surrogate for him, has died, and Proust stands in front of a Parisian bookstore — this is just after the death — and all the novelist’s books are there blazing in the bookshop window. That’s the immortality.”

“Stories as Prayer: A Conversation Between Joshua Cohen and Harold Bloom”, 2018, Joshua Cohen, LARB

[girafeduvexin]

a niche fandom ask : A la recherche du temps perdu (the questions seem more geared towards tv shows but osef tbh)

MERCI BEAUCOUP  je dois le faire en français par contre

the first character i ever fell in love with: SWANN SWANN SWAAAAAANN a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: Charlus? je l’aime toujours mais il m’agace plus. a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: hhhhhhhhhhm aucun tbh. my ultimate favorite character™: SWANN SWAANNNNNNNN (et Bloch) prettiest character: Odette ofc. my most hated character: uuuuuuuuuuuuuuh les Guermantes, ces connards de nobles. my OTP: Swann x réhabilitation de Dreyfus, nan blague à part Swann x Charlus évidemment. my NOTP: Le narrateur x Albertine :)))) favorite episode: fav book : Sodome et Gomorrhe saddest death: Swann :(((( et Bergotte “petit pan de mur jaune” character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: La Duchesse de Guermantes, fandom being “le milieu universitaire”. my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave:  Bloch, my stupid son. my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: Swann toujours. my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: hm Charlus x Swann aussi parce que c’est forcément malsain. my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: Bloch x narrateur, mais j’y ai pas trop réfléchi tbh.

[makeroomforthejolyghost]

proust’s narrator also contrasts the conversation of bergotte (the writer friend his description of whom i quoted in the last post) with that of his dad’s friend norpois:

I let myself go in telling him what my impressions [of a recent performance of Phèdre] had been. Often Bergotte disagreed, but he allowed me to go on talking. I told him that I had liked the green light which was turned on when Phèdre raised her arm. “Ah! the designer will be glad to hear that; he’s a real artist, and I shall tell him you liked it, because he is very proud of that effect. I must say, myself, that I don’t care for it much, it bathes everything in a sort of sea-green glow, little Phèdre standing there looks too much like a branch of coral on the floor of an aquarium. ... [A]fter all Racine isn’t telling us a story about love among the sea-urchins. Still, it’s what my friend wanted, and it’s very well done, right or wrong, and really quite pretty.” ... And when Bergotte’s opinion was thus contrary to mine, he in no way reduced me to silence, to the impossibility of framing any reply, as M. de Norpois would have done. This does not prove that Bergotte’s opinions were less valid than the Ambassador’s; far from it. ... It is to ideas which are not, strictly speaking, ideas at all, to ideas which, based on nothing, can find no foothold, no fraternal echo in the mind of the adversary, that the latter, grappling as it were with thin air, can find no word to say in answer. The arguments of M. de Norpois (in the matter of art) were unanswerable simply because they were devoid of reality. (2.185-6)

norpois is a career diplomat; the narrator’s other big implicit criticism of him is that he talks about everything the way he talks about politics--namely, like this:

M. de Norpois entertained us with a number of the stories with which he was in the habit of regaling his diplomatic colleagues, quoting now some ludicrous period uttered by a politician notorious for long sentences packed with incoherent images, now some lapidary epigram of a diplomat sparkling with Attic salt. But, to tell the truth, the criterion which for him set the two kinds of sentence apart in no way resembled that which I was in the habit of applying to literature. Most of the finer shades escaped me; the words which he recited with derision seemed to me not to differ very greatly from those which he found remarkable. ... All that I grasped was that to repeat what everybody else was thinking was, in politics, the mark not of an inferior but of a superior mind. (40)

so basically the reverse of how bergotte talks. Good Politics Talk rephrases a familiar maxim or demand in a persuasive way; Good Art Talk shows us reality from a new angle. when i put it that way these seem really similar? but i think this is behind the difference the narrator perceives btwn disagreeing with bergotte and disagreeing with norpois. like: the goal of political argument is either a. for your opponent to endorse your view instead of the one they held previously and/or b. to show those on your own side that you agree with and understand their opinion. so, unanswerable is good; making all other ways of seeing the issue look stupid is kind of the goal. (is this why slogans often posit oughts as ises? “gay rights are civil rights”--not “should be considered.” or like, “black lives matter,” instead of, “american cops need to stop killing black civilians.” stating an obvious fact in order to imply an imperative.) whereas bergotte wants to enable his interlocutors to understand and acknowledge the validity of his view also--not instead.

i think this is why i feel uncomfortable around people who talk about politics a lot. ime, the habit bleeds into how they talk about other things too. like the way norpois talks about bergotte’s work. he begins by saying to the narrator’s parents, “I do not share your son’s point of view”--meaning his admiration of bergotte. but the I statement is... kinda fake? he goes on,

“Bergotte is what I call a flute-player: one must admit that he plays very agreeably, although with a great deal of mannerism, of affectation. But when all is said, there’s no more to it than that, and that is not much. ... At a time like the present, ... you will allow me to suggest that one is entitled to ask that a writer should be something more than a clever fellow who lulls us into forgetting, amid otiose and byzantine discussions of the merits of pure form, that we may be overwhelmed at any moment by a double tide of barbarians, those from without and those from within our borders. I am aware that this is to blaspheme against the sacrosanct school of what these gentlemen term ‘Art for Art’s sake,’ but at this period of history there are tasks more urgent than the manipulation of words in a harmonious manner.” (61)

notice the passive tense, the pleas of objectivity, the way he has to turn his personal dislike into an argument as to why we should disapprove. you can’t frame an effective counterargument to this? all you can say is “yeah well i like art for art’s sake,” or, worse, “actually bergotte has an important social message about x.” either you agree to disagree (which ends the conversation) or you’re reduced to arguing that the thing you like is important, quite possibly for reasons that have little to do with what you like about it. (n.b. the narrator, who at this point knows bergotte only from his books, originally brought him up in hopes of learning more about him from someone who’s met him in person--not of learning merely norpois’ opinion of him.)

...of course i’m not saying art shouldn’t be political, lmao--and neither is proust, who, for example, goes on a lot of long digressions later in these books about why anti-semitism and homophobia are bad. i just really like his argument that art-motivated eloquence and politics-motivated eloquence have different interests, and different effects on conversation. it helps me understand why i get so frustrated in classes when people spend the whole discussion time trying to persuade each other that x character is or isn’t evil

[principleofplenitude]

But I did not want to do anything else there but live according to Bergotte's ideas exclusively, and, had I been told that the metaphysicians to whom I would be devoting myself by then would not resemble him at all, I would have felt the despair of a lover who wants his love to be lifelong and to whom one talks about the other mistresses he will have later.

Marcel Proust, from Swann’s Way (1913)

[mooneyedandglowing]

A Man Meets a Woman in the Street

BY RANDALL JARRELL Under the separated leaves of shade Of the gingko, that old tree That has existed essentially unchanged Longer than any other living tree, I walk behind a woman. Her hair's coarse gold Is spun from the sunlight that it rides upon. Women were paid to knit from sweet champagne Her second skin: it winds and unwinds, winds Up her long legs, delectable haunches, As she sways, in sunlight, up the gazing aisle. The shade of the tree that is called maidenhair, That is not positively known To exist in a wild state, spots her fair or almost fair Hair twisted in a French twist; tall or almost tall, She walks through the air the rain has washed, a clear thing Moving easily on its high heels, seeming to men Miraculous . . . Since I can call her, as Swann couldn't A woman who is my type, I follow with the warmth Of familiarity, of novelty, this new Example of the type, Reminded of how Lorenz's just-hatched goslings Shook off the last remnants of the egg And, looking at Lorenz, realized that Lorenz Was their mother. Quaking, his little family Followed him everywhere; and when they met a goose, Their mother, they ran to him afraid. Imprinted upon me Is the shape I run to, the sweet strange Breath-taking contours that breathe to me: "I am yours,   Be mine!"             Following this new Body, somehow familiar, this young shape, somehow old, For a moment I'm younger, the century is younger. The living Strauss, his moustache just getting gray, Is shouting to the players: "Louder! Louder! I can still hear Madame Schumann-Heink-" Or else, white, bald, the old man's joyfully Telling conductors they must play Elektra Like A Midsummer Night's Dream -like a fairy music; Proust, dying, is swallowing his iced beer And changing in proof the death of Bergotte According to his own experience; Garbo, A commissar in Paris, is listening attentively To the voice telling how McGillicuddy me McGillivray, And McGillivray said to McGillicuddy-no, McGillicuddy Said to McGillivray-that is, McGillivray...Garbo Says seriously: "I vish dey'd never met." As I walk behind this woman I remember That before I flew here-waked in the forest At dawn, by the piece called Birds Beginning Day That, each day, birds play to begin the day- I wished as men wish: "May this day be different!" The birds were wishing, as birds wish-over and over, With a last firmness, intensity, reality- "May this day be the same!"                                        Ah, turn to me And look into my eyes, say: "I am yours, Be mine!"             My wish will have come true. And yet When your eyes meet my eyes, they'll bring into The weightlessness of my pure wish the weight Of a human being: someone to help or hurt, Someone to be good to me, to be good to, Someone to cry when I am angry that she doesn't like Elektra, someone to start on Proust with. A wish, come true, is life. I have my life. When you turn just slide your eyes across my eyes And show in a look flickering across your face As lightly as a leaf's shade, a bird's wing, That there is no one in the world quite like me, That if only...If only...                                    That will be enough. But I've pretended long enough: I walk faster And come close, touch with the tip of my finger The nape of her neck, just where the gold Hair stops, and the champagne-colored dress begins. My finger touches her as the gingko's shadow Touches her.                  Because, after all, it is my wife In a new dress from Bergdorf's, walking toward the park. She cries out, we kiss each other, and walk arm in arm Through the sunlight that's much too good for New York, The sunlight of our own house in the forest. Still, though, the poor things need it...We've no need To start out on Proust, to ask each other about Strauss. We first helped each other, hurt each other, years ago. After so many changes made and joys repeated, Our first bewildered, transcending recognition Is pure acceptance.   We can't tell our life From our wish. Really I began the day Not with a man's wish: "May this day be different," But with the birds' wish: "May this day Be the same day, the day of my life.”

[talesofpassingtime]

Concealed, like the Holy of Holies, beneath the veil that screened her from my gaze, behind which I invested her, every moment, with a fresh aspect, according to which of the words of Bergotte - in the pamphlet that Gilberte had found for me - was passing through my mind; “plastic nobility,” “Christian austerity” or “ Jansenist pallor,” “Princess of Troezen and of Cleves ” or “Mycenean drama,” “Delphic symbol,” “Solar myth”; that divine Beauty, whom Berma’s acting was to reveal to me, night and day, upon an altar perpetually illumined, sat enthroned in the sanctuary of my mind, my mind for which not itself but my stern, my fickle parents were to decide whether or not it was to enshrine, and for all time, the perfections of the Deity unveiled, in the same spot where was now her invisible form.

— Marcel Proust, Within a Budding Grove 

[winterfable01]

¡Qué Bergotte!

"

Desgraciadamente, no pude calmar, hablando con Bloch y pidiéndole explicaciones, la inquietud que me causara diciéndome que los buenos versos (a mí que no les pedía nada menos que la revelación de la verdad) eran tanto mejores cuanto menos significaran. Porque no se volvió a invitar a Bloch a venir a casa. Primero se le hizo una buena acogida. Mi abuelo sostenía que cada vez que trababa con un compañero más íntima amistad que con los demás y lo llevaba a casa, se trataba siempre de un judío, cosa que en un principio no le hubiera desagradado .su amigo Swann también era de familia judía., a no ser porque le parecía que, por lo general, yo no lo había escogido entre los mejores. Así que cuando llevaba a casa algún amigo nuevo, casi siempre se ponía a tararear: «¡Oh Dios de nuestros padres, de la Judía» o «Israel, quebranta tus cadenas!», sin la letra, naturalmente (ti la lam ta lam talim) ; pero yo siempre tenía miedo de que mi compañero conociera la música y por ahí fuera a acordarse de la letra.

Antes de verlos, sólo al oír su nombre, que muchas veces no tenían ninguna característica israelita, adivinaba no ya sólo el origen judío de mis amigos que en realidad lo eran, sino hasta los antecedentes desagradables que pudiera haber en su familia."

[...]

Aquellas pequeñas manías de mi abuelo en ningún modo implicaban sentimientos de malevolencia hacia mis camaradas. Pero Bloch se hizo antipático a mis padres por otras razones. Comenzó por irritar a mi padre, que al verlo un día todo mojado, le preguntó con interés:

--¿Pero qué tiempo hace, amigo Bloch; ha llovido? No lo entiendo, porque el barómetro estaba muy bien.

Y no obtuvo más respuesta que ésta:

--Me es absolutamente imposible decirle a usted si ha llovido o no, porque vivo tan apartado de las contingencias físicas, que mis sentidos ya no se molestan en comunicármelas.

--Pero, hijo mío, tu amigo es idiota .me dijo mi padre, cuando Bloch se hubo marchado.. De modo que ni siquiera sabe decir cómo está el tiempo, con lo interesante que es eso. Es un majadero.

Bloch se hizo antipático a mi abuela porque como, después de, almorzar, dijera que ella se sentía un poco mala, Bloch ahogó un sollozo y se secó unas lágrimas.

--.¿Cómo quieres que eso sea de verdad, si apenas me conoce? ¿O es que está loco?

Y, por último, se hizo desagradable a los ojos de todos porque después de llegar a almorzar con hora y media de retraso y todo lleno de barro, en vez de excusarse, dijo:

--Yo nunca me dejo influir por las perturbaciones atmosféricas ni por las divisiones convencionales del tiempo, y rehabilitaría con gusto el uso de la pipa de opio y del kriss malayo; pero ignoro el empleo de esos instrumentos, mucho más dañinos, y tan vulgares, que se llaman reloj y paraguas.

[...]

Y es que decían de Bergotte lo mismo que Swann: .Es un escritor delicioso, tan personal, tiene una manera tan suya de decir las cosas, un poco rebuscada, pero muy agradable.. Y ninguno llegaba a decir: .Es un gran escritor, tiene mucho talento.. Y no lo decían porque no lo sabían. Somos muy tardos en reconocer en la fisonomía particular de un escritor ese modelo que en nuestro museo de ideas generales lleva el letrero de .mucho talento.. Precisamente porque esa fisonomía nos es nueva, no le encontramos parecido con lo que llamamos talento.

[...]

Y siempre la delicia de las ideas que en mi despertaban las catedrales, las colinas de la isla de Francia y las llanuras de Normandía, proyectaba sus reflejos sobre la imagen que yo me formaba de la hija de Swann; es decir, que ya estaba dispuesto a enamorarme de ella. Porque creer que una persona participa de una vida incógnita, cuyas puertas nos abriría su cariño, es todo lo que exige el amor para brotar, lo que más estima, y aquello por lo que cede todo lo demás. Hasta las mujeres que sostienen que no juzgan a un hombre más que por su físico, ven en ese físico las emanaciones de una vida especial. Y por eso gustan de los militares y los bomberos: por el uniforme son menos exigentes para el rostro, se creen que bajo la coraza que besan hay un corazón múltiple, aventurero y cariñoso; y un soberano joven, un príncipe heredero, no necesita, para hacer las más halagüeñas conquistas en un país extranjero, de la regularidad de perfil, indispensable quizá a un corredor de Bolsa.

"

--Marcel Proust en "En busca del tiempo perdido: Por el camino de Swann"

[poetsandwriters]

The places I love most in the world are museums....I love the act of translating an object into words, the goal of doing it well enough that it will rebuild itself in the reader’s head. I love how characters and odd situations that don’t exist sprout from artifacts and artworks like moss when I look at them. When I look at a piece, I think, I want to make the written equivalent of that, like elderly Bergotte in Proust’s The Captive who becomes giddy looking at a ‘little patch of yellow’ wall in a Vermeer painting, regretting that he did not write as it was painted. I suggest to any writers that they go to a museum soon, and find an equivalent of elderly Bergotte’s little patch of yellow wall...

Camilla Grudova, in this week’s Writers Recommend (Poets & Writers, 2017)

[ideaimateria]

https://www.museothyssen.org/conectathyssen/publicaciones-digitales/publicacion-cezanne-site-non-site

https://issuu.com/museothyssenmad/docs/cezanne-site-non-site/44

Title: Anamorphoses: Games of Perception and Illustion in Art

Author Name: Schuyt, Michael and Joost Eiffers

Categories: Art,

Edition: 1st

Publisher: New York, Harry N. Abrams: 1976

"The Ambassadors",  1533  Hans Holbein

https://www.georgesrousse.com/en/selections/serie/apesanteur/

https://www.georgesrousse.com/en/selections/

http://www.varini.org/varini/02indc/indant.html

http://utisz.blogspot.com/p/anamorphoses.html

https://jontyhurwitz.com/

https://vimeo.com/470145582

https://vimeo.com/jontyhurwitz

https://www.aakashnihalani.com/outdoor

http://www.emmacoulter.com.au/

https://www.pilarcorrias.com/exhibitions/22/installations/image342/

https://ocula.com/art-galleries/pilar-corrias/exhibitions/philippe-parreno/

Gnomónica 

Gnomònica vídeo

Kleureyck

EXPO18.05

21.02.2021

Kleureyck

Els colors de Van Eyck en el disseny

Una exposició sobre l’ús innovador del color, en què es relacionen el passat i el present...

Una exposició que posa de manifest el nou i atrevit ús del color, vist com un nexe d’unió entre el passat i el present. L’exposició “Colors, etc. »Al Tripostal de Lille, ens convida a preguntar-nos sobre la nostra relació amb el color. Despertarà tots els nostres sentits i els visitants seran convidats a entrar en una instal·lació i moure’s per viure una experiència immersiva; olorar, sentir i tocar; per veure i escoltar ... Podem sentir un color, associar una olor a un color, un color té un "tacte" particular, podem sentir un color ...?

https://www.designiscapital.com/

D’on ve el color? Com es fa el color? Quin impacte té el color? Per a l’any Van Eyck a Gant, el museu presenta una gran exposició sobre l’ús innovador i divers del color. L’exposició parteix de les tonalitats invisibles de Jan van Eyck i mostra què significa el color per als dissenyadors contemporanis.Passegeu pels vuit grups de colors de Van Eyck en un rastre de pigments. Prop de 100 peces de disseny mostren com la llum, el material i els patrons tenen un efecte sobre el color. Passareu per passats experiments inspiradors de colors des del disseny de productes i tèxtils, ceràmica i vidre. En diversos projectes de recerca, els dissenyadors estan provant com poden influir en el color i quina influència té el color en nosaltres.Experimenteu el poder del color a les sales d’experiència per vosaltres mateixos. A cada onze dissenyadors se’ls va donar una sala per treballar el tema del color i els sentits: permeten veure, tastar i escoltar el color, entre altres coses. Els espais especialment desenvolupats desencadenen un ventall d’experiències per a grans i petits.

https://www.designmuseumgent.be/agenda/kleureyck

/colourful-kinaesthesia/

PAM

Berta Vallribera

Pam és una forma d’estampar a algú. Donar cops allibera; les paraules també descarreguen. De tot això en queda un testimoniatge: les samarretes dels combatents queden tacades de cops –com se sap, en aquests casos, guanya el qui té la última paraula.

És ben fàcil! Proveu-ho a casa! Només calen dos parells de guants de boxa, goma eva adhesiva per fer les lletres dels missatges, tinta a l’aigua i samarretes clares. Quan us vingui la ràbia podreu descarregar contra els que més us estimeu! Barat, senzill, tot un invent.

https://laboratoriedicio.tumblr.com/post/172444383864/pam-berta-vallribera-pam-%C3%A9s-una-forma-destampar-a

“K.O.”

Nuevo combate de la UFC!

Doce rings octogonales, doce asaltos. La ganadora se llevará el cinturón de la UFC. Utilizando la técnica del gravado al linóleo realizo un conjunto de estampaciones a través de las cuales puedes visualizar una lucha.  El juego de manos con los guantes de boxeo aportan el dinamismo que buscaba para producir una narración visual a partir de secuencia de imágenes. Tengo contacto con el gofrado también, pero viendo el resultado juntamente con la composición, decido no darle el protagonismo que tenía pensado en un principio. Utilizo tintas al agua para el negro y el rojo y tinta al aceite para el plateado. El soporte es papel rosaspina de 220 g y de 50X70 cm.

Carol Muñoz Fernández 3r GAAD 2020-21

https://64.media.tumblr.com/6f53ae626530a553ddb7a81cd702abac/e38a2f7343c9e983-0a/s1280x1920/ec416aeee23d741de275cb09fa20d8b9e3c69c53.gifv

https://laboratoriedicio.tumblr.com/post/636123250329518080/ko-nuevo-combate-de-la-ufc-doce-rings

https://ideaimateria.tumblr.com/post/635618524156592129/arthur-cravan-el-poeta-con-guantes-de-boxeo

.cytwombly.org / artworks / paintings

.museoreinasofia.es / exposicions / cy-twombly-cuadros-treballs-sobre-paper-esculturas

elcultural.com/Cy-Twombly-Leccion-de-pintura-en-el-Prado

museum-brandhorst.de/en/collection/lepanto-ii

https://gagosian.com/artists/cy-twombly/

vídeos  CY + TWOMBLY

https://youtu.be/DxKdAzYkfcI

https://ideaimateria.tumblr.com/post/635617435635023872/projekt-art-noa-im-museum-brandhorst

Robert Gober forest

Robert Gober bosc

Vue_de_Delft

…Marcel Proust a défini La Vue de Delft dans une lettre à son ami Jean-Louis Vaudoyer comme « le plus beau tableau du monde ». Il décrit le tableau dans le cinquième tome de son roman À la recherche du temps perdu, La Prisonnière, après l'avoir lui-même découvert au Jeu de Paume, à Paris, en 1921. Dans son roman, il met en scène la découverte de la toile par Bergotte en ces termes :

« Il remarqua pour la première fois des petits personnages en bleu, que le sable était rose, et enfin la précieuse matière du tout petit pan de mur jaune. Ses étourdissements augmentaient ; il attachait son regard, comme un enfant à un papillon jaune qu'il veut saisir, au précieux petit pan de mur. “C'est ainsi que j'aurais dû écrire, disait-il. Mes derniers livres sont trop secs, il aurait fallu passer plusieurs couches de couleur, rendre ma phrase en elle-même précieuse, comme ce petit pan de mur jaune”5 »…via wikipedia

…La veduta ( vedute en plural, que significa “allò que es veu”, per tant “com ho veiem”), està relacionada amb l’ escenografia (ja que l'artista escenifica una visió externa) i presenta problemes d'investigació espacial . Els dos gèneres es desenvolupen simultàniament i s’influencien mútuament. La pràctica de la perspectiva s'utilitza àmpliament en vedute , aquesta paraula també és un terme òptic que antigament designa “perspectiva natural”, està relacionat amb el llenguatge de la perspectiva artificial o geomètrica, “  prospettiva pingendi  ” entre d'altres: que varien segons el “punt de vista”.

Aquest terme apareix en la història de l'art en la xviii ª segle pels pintors italians. Canaletto , Bernardo Bellotto i Francesco Guardi són els pintors més representatius del gènere. Utilitzaven un dispositiu òptic: la cambra fosca ( camera obscura ), col·locada a l’escena d’un quadre per preparar el seu marc, obrint la percepció òptica de la realitat en un paisatge natural o suburbà. Aquestes pintures estan fetes amb precisió i realisme de detalls, i són generalment de grans dimensions…via wiki

Venècia és considerada la capital de védutistes pintors ( vedutistas ) a la xviii ª  segle, tot i que la representació realista de paisatges és l'especialitat dels pintors flamencs. En ser un arquetip de la veduta, la “  Vista de Delft  ” de Vermeer continua sent una de les vedutes més famoses.

Védutisme Català Deutsch English Español Italiano

en-venecia-con-joseph-brodsky-sinopsis-en-marca de agua

APRENDRE FENT

BAUHAUS

Form follows function

https://artidiss.tumblr.com/archive

GENIUS LOCI                 

               ISBN 0-8478-0287-6

gettextbooks.com/isbn/9780847802876/

En la ideologia clàssica romana, 1 genius loci (genii loci plural) era l'esperit protector d'un lloc. En ús contemporani, es refereixen generalment a l'atmosfera distintiva d'un espai, o a l ’ “esperit de el lloc”, més que necessàriament a un espíritu guardià.

Alexander Pope va fer de l’ Genius Loci un principi important en el disseny de jardins i paisatges amb les següents línies de l'Epístola IV a Richard Boyle, comte de Burlington:  

Consultar a el geni de el lloc en tot; Això diuen les aigües o s'aixequen, o cauen; O ajuda al turó ambiciosa del cel a escalar,   O recollir en cercles els teatres de la vall; Trucades al país, les clares captures d'obertura,   S'uneix a boscos disposats, i varia ombres d'ombres,   Ara trenca, o dirigeix ara, les línies d'intenció; Pintures mentre que vostè planta, i, mentre que vostè treballa, dissenya.  

Sobre aquest principi els dissenys paisatgístics s'han d'adaptar a l'context en què es troben.  

En el context de la teoria arquitectònica moderna, genius loci té implicacions profundes per a la fabricació de el lloc, caient dins de la branca filosòfica de la “fenomenologia”. Els diferents contextos donen diferents explicacions per a l'existència d’ genius loci . No obstant això, en la majoria dels casos, l'entitat intel·ligent, màgica, simplement es desenvolupa a partir de l'anomenat “esperit de lloc” durant molt de temps. En altres contextos, genius loci està format per poderosos esdeveniments màgics, i en altres són els resultats de les línies llei, les piscines de mannà o un equivalent.casawabi.org/genius-loci

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genius_loci

Site-specific_art

SPECÍFIC DEL LLOC

El terme específic de lloc fa referència a una obra d’art dissenyada específicament per a una ubicació concreta i que té una interrelació amb la ubicació

https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/s/site-specific

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Site-specific_art

Javier Maderuelo. Conferencia sobre El campo expandido de la escultura - Medio siglo de Arte

Locus amoenus

ideaimateria.tumblr.com/search/artidiss

[girafeduvexin]

'La mort de Bergotte' - Proust.

i literally can’t stop thinking abt that richard siken quote where he falls to the floor crying but all he can focus on is the details of the wall in front of him

[girafeduvexin]

Du coup je cherche des infos pour une fic sur Proust/Lupin et j'ai cherché 'policier' dans la Recherche et :

1) Charlus qui regarde tout le monde sauf le narrateur

(L'image est très James Bond)

2) ...... idk

'Un policier est un voleur qui n'exerce plus' mais. Quoi. Et Proust écrit ça avec une telle assurance.

3) inoubliable

Et du coup j'ai cherché voleur aussi et

Il parle de Bergotte là et on est d'accord que 'gentleman voleur de fourchettes (?)' c'est une référence un peu moqueuse à Arsène Lupin ?

Enfin, Charlus toujours :

Charlus a couché avec Arsène Lupin \o/

[inventiondemorel]

Dans les jambes de pantalon du temps

Lire La recherche du temps perdu, c’est un peu s’immiscer dans un univers parallèle. Ainsi, le jour de la mort de Jean d’Ormesson, j’en étais à la mort de Bergotte.