Printemps,  1938, The National Trust for Scotland
Valerius de Saedeleer

Printemps,  1938, The National Trust for Scotland

Valerius de Saedeleer




Christian Hopkins HERE

Christian Hopkins HERE

artemisvoice:

Above:  Miles Davis - Flamenco Sketches (Alternate Take)

Dashboard click box below for:  Miles Davis - Flamenco Sketches (via: youtube | PerryCoxPF93)

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The Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl.
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~Oscar Wilde, from:  The Nightingale and the Rose 
Image:  Sol and Mani, 1909 - John Charles Dollman 

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The Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl.

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~Oscar Wilde, from:  The Nightingale and the Rose 

Image:  Sol and Mani, 1909 - John Charles Dollman 

artemisdreaming:
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A Teller of Tales
From:  The Celtic Twilight, by William Butler Yeats
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MANY of the tales in this book were told me by one Paddy Flynn, a little bright-eyed old man, who lived in a leaky and one-roomed cabin in the village of Ballisodare, which is, he was wont to say, ‘the most gentle’—whereby he meant faery—‘place in the whole of County Sligo.’ Others hold it, however, but second to Drumcliff and Drumahair. The first time I saw him he was cooking mushrooms for himself; the next time he was asleep under a hedge, smiling in his sleep. He was indeed always cheerful, though I thought I could see in his eyes (swift as the eyes of a rabbit, when they peered out of their wrinkled holes) a melancholy which was well-nigh a portion of their joy; the visionary melancholy of purely instinctive natures and of all animals.
And yet there was much in his life to depress him, for in the triple solitude of age, eccentricity, and deafness, he went about much pestered by children. It was for this very reason perhaps that he ever recommended mirth and hopefulness. He was fond, for instance, of telling how Collumcille cheered up his mother. ‘How are you to-day, mother?’ said the saint. ‘Worse,’ replied the mother. ‘May you be worse to-morrow,’ said the saint. The next day Collumcille came again, and exactly the same conversation took place, but the third day the mother said, ‘Better, thank God.’ And the saint replied, ‘May you be better to-morrow.’ He was fond too of telling how the Judge smiles at the last day alike when he rewards the good and condemns the lost to unceasing flames. He had many strange sights to keep him cheerful or to make him sad. I asked him had he ever seen the faeries, and got the reply, ‘Am I not annoyed with them?’ I asked too if he had ever seen the banshee. ‘I have seen it,’ he said, ‘down there by the water, batting the river with its hands.’
I have copied this account of Paddy Flynn, with a few verbal alterations, from a note-book which I almost filled with his tales and sayings, shortly after seeing him. I look now at the note-book regretfully, for the blank pages at the end will never be filled up. Paddy Flynn is dead; a friend of mine gave him a large bottle of whiskey, and though a sober man at most times, the sight of so much liquor filled him with a great enthusiasm, and he lived upon it for some days and then died. His body, worn out with old age and hard times, could not bear the drink as in his young days. He was a great teller of tales, and unlike our common romancers, knew how to empty heaven, hell, and purgatory, faeryland and earth, to people his stories. He did not live in a shrunken world, but knew of no less ample circumstance than did Homer himself. Perhaps the Gaelic people shall by his like bring back again the ancient simplicity and amplitude of imagination. What is literature but the expression of moods by the vehicle of symbol and incident? And are there not moods which need heaven, hell, purgatory, and faeryland for their expression, no less than this dilapidated earth? Nay, are there not moods which shall find no expression unless there be men who dare to mix heaven, hell, purgatory, and faeryland together, or even to set the heads of beasts to the bodies of men, or to thrust the souls of men into the heart of rocks? Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet. 
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Artemis:  Yeats.  :)  Reblog

artemisdreaming:

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A Teller of Tales

From:  The Celtic Twilight, by William Butler Yeats

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MANY of the tales in this book were told me by one Paddy Flynn, a little bright-eyed old man, who lived in a leaky and one-roomed cabin in the village of Ballisodare, which is, he was wont to say, ‘the most gentle’—whereby he meant faery—‘place in the whole of County Sligo.’ Others hold it, however, but second to Drumcliff and Drumahair. The first time I saw him he was cooking mushrooms for himself; the next time he was asleep under a hedge, smiling in his sleep. He was indeed always cheerful, though I thought I could see in his eyes (swift as the eyes of a rabbit, when they peered out of their wrinkled holes) a melancholy which was well-nigh a portion of their joy; the visionary melancholy of purely instinctive natures and of all animals.

And yet there was much in his life to depress him, for in the triple solitude of age, eccentricity, and deafness, he went about much pestered by children. It was for this very reason perhaps that he ever recommended mirth and hopefulness. He was fond, for instance, of telling how Collumcille cheered up his mother. ‘How are you to-day, mother?’ said the saint. ‘Worse,’ replied the mother. ‘May you be worse to-morrow,’ said the saint. The next day Collumcille came again, and exactly the same conversation took place, but the third day the mother said, ‘Better, thank God.’ And the saint replied, ‘May you be better to-morrow.’ He was fond too of telling how the Judge smiles at the last day alike when he rewards the good and condemns the lost to unceasing flames. He had many strange sights to keep him cheerful or to make him sad. I asked him had he ever seen the faeries, and got the reply, ‘Am I not annoyed with them?’ I asked too if he had ever seen the banshee. ‘I have seen it,’ he said, ‘down there by the water, batting the river with its hands.’

I have copied this account of Paddy Flynn, with a few verbal alterations, from a note-book which I almost filled with his tales and sayings, shortly after seeing him. I look now at the note-book regretfully, for the blank pages at the end will never be filled up. Paddy Flynn is dead; a friend of mine gave him a large bottle of whiskey, and though a sober man at most times, the sight of so much liquor filled him with a great enthusiasm, and he lived upon it for some days and then died. His body, worn out with old age and hard times, could not bear the drink as in his young days. He was a great teller of tales, and unlike our common romancers, knew how to empty heaven, hell, and purgatory, faeryland and earth, to people his stories. He did not live in a shrunken world, but knew of no less ample circumstance than did Homer himself. Perhaps the Gaelic people shall by his like bring back again the ancient simplicity and amplitude of imagination. What is literature but the expression of moods by the vehicle of symbol and incident? And are there not moods which need heaven, hell, purgatory, and faeryland for their expression, no less than this dilapidated earth? Nay, are there not moods which shall find no expression unless there be men who dare to mix heaven, hell, purgatory, and faeryland together, or even to set the heads of beasts to the bodies of men, or to thrust the souls of men into the heart of rocks? Let us go forth, the tellers of tales, and seize whatever prey the heart long for, and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet. 

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Artemis:  Yeats.  :)  Reblog

Arrival scene from The Quiet Man

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig… Happy St. Paddy’s Day.  :)

Cloud Study, Moonlight, 1860, Bowdoin College Museum
Albert Bierstadt

Cloud Study, Moonlight, 1860, Bowdoin College Museum

Albert Bierstadt

skylerbrownart:  from ‘Autumn Music’  by Skyler Brown

skylerbrownart:  from ‘Autumn Music’  by Skyler Brown

theperfectworldwelcome:  especially for you, artemisdreaming :)
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Aww, thank you  C!!!   I love it.  Have a good weekend too my friend.  :)

theperfectworldwelcome:  especially for you, artemisdreaming :)

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Aww, thank you  C!!!   I love it.  Have a good weekend too my friend.  :)

The sum of human wisdom is not contained in any one language, and no single language is capable of expressing all forms and degrees of human comprehension.
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~Ezra Pound 
Image: anarpartblog.wordpress

The sum of human wisdom is not contained in any one language, and no single language is capable of expressing all forms and degrees of human comprehension.

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~Ezra Pound 

Image: anarpartblog.wordpress

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Commission 
 
Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,Go also to the nerve wracked, go to the enslaved by convention,Bear to them my contempt for their oppressors.Go as a great wave of cool water,Bear my contempt of oppressors.Speak against unconscious oppression,Speak against the tyranny of the unimaginative,Speak against bonds.Go to the bourgeoise who is dying of her ennuis,Go to the women in suburbs.Go to the hideously wedded,Go to them whose failure is concealed,Go to the unluckily mated,Go to the bought wife,Go to the woman entailed.Go to those who have delicate lust,Go to those whose delicate desires are thwarted,Go like a blight upon the dullness of the world,Go with your edge against this,Strengthen the subtle cords,Bring confidence upon the algae and the tentacles of the soul.Go in a friendly manner,Go with an open speech.Be eager to find new evils and new good,Be against all forms of oppression.Go to those who are thickened with middle age,To those who have lost their interest.Go to the adolescent who are smothered in family___Oh how hideous it isTo see three generations of one house gathered together!It is like an old tree with shoots,And with some branches rotted and falling.Go out and defy opinion,Go against this vegetable bondage of the blood. Be against all sorts of mortmain.
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Ezra Pound, Commission, from Lustra
Image:   Lustra of Ezra Pound, London: The Author, 1916,  Privately printed version of the edition published by Elkin Mathews. (via: udel.edu) 

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Commission 

 

Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve wracked, go to the enslaved by convention,
Bear to them my contempt for their oppressors.
Go as a great wave of cool water,
Bear my contempt of oppressors.

Speak against unconscious oppression,
Speak against the tyranny of the unimaginative,
Speak against bonds.
Go to the bourgeoise who is dying of her ennuis,
Go to the women in suburbs.
Go to the hideously wedded,
Go to them whose failure is concealed,
Go to the unluckily mated,
Go to the bought wife,
Go to the woman entailed.

Go to those who have delicate lust,
Go to those whose delicate desires are thwarted,
Go like a blight upon the dullness of the world,
Go with your edge against this,
Strengthen the subtle cords,
Bring confidence upon the algae and the tentacles of the soul.

Go in a friendly manner,
Go with an open speech.
Be eager to find new evils and new good,
Be against all forms of oppression.
Go to those who are thickened with middle age,
To those who have lost their interest.
Go to the adolescent who are smothered in family___
Oh how hideous it is
To see three generations of one house gathered together!
It is like an old tree with shoots,
And with some branches rotted and falling.

Go out and defy opinion,
Go against this vegetable bondage of the blood.
Be against all sorts of mortmain.

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Ezra Pound, Commission, from Lustra

Image:   Lustra of Ezra Pound, London: The Author, 1916,  Privately printed version of the edition published by Elkin Mathews. (via: udel.edu) 

Pair of Cranes on Branch
Ink and color on silk H: 36.5 W: 19.0 cm  Japan Smithsonian Museum, F2004.16                      

Pair of Cranes on Branch

Ink and color on silk
H: 36.5 W: 19.0 cm
Japan
Smithsonian Museum, F2004.16                      


Do not let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.
~Dalai Lama
Image: picstopin.com 

Do not let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.

~Dalai Lama

Image: picstopin.com 

escapekit:   Hyper-Dimensional Portraits

Street artist Raquel Brust has been displaying massive hyper-dimensional photos in the streets of São Paulo, Brazil since 2008 with her project entitled “Giganto“.

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Artemis:  thank you C  (theperfectworldwelcome)  :)  for sharing it with me.  I really like the thought behind it…  More on the portraits below…

"The subjects of her photos are usually elderly people who live in the rural countryside of Brazil, people who will probably never be able to travel to the city that their portraits are exhibited in because of factors like health, age, distance, or cost. The project is a lesson in contrasts—contrasts between old and young, urban and rural life, modernization and tradition, and so on.

The artist was inspired to create Giganto because of her own experience of feeling overwhelmed and anonymous upon moving to the sprawling metropolis of São Paulo. “I wanted to shut my ears and myself off from the outside world,” she says, “I couldn’t stand the noise, the chaos—everything going on all at once.” With Giganto, she says she seeks to “create an odd dialog with the environment” and to generate “a reflection about the life in the city and its scary structures.”

artemisdreaming:

Paco de Lucía - Concierto Aranjuez - Adagio

The Concierto de Aranjuez is a composition for classical guitar and orchestra by the Spanish composer Joaquín Rodrigo. Written in 1939, it is probably Rodrigo’s best-known work, and its success established his reputation as one of the most significant Spanish composers of the twentieth century.

The Concierto de Aranjuez was inspired by the gardens at Palacio Real de Aranjuez, the spring resort palace and gardens built by Philip II in the last half of the 16th century and rebuilt in the middle of the 18th century by Ferdinand VI. The work attempts to transport the listener to another place and time through the evocation of the sounds of nature.

According to the composer, the first movement is “animated by a rhythmic spirit and vigour without either of the two themes… interrupting its relentless pace”; the second movement “represents a dialogue between guitar and solo instruments (cor anglais, bassoon, oboe, horn etc.)”; and the last movement “recalls a courtly dance in which the combination of double and triple time maintains a taut tempo right to the closing bar.” He described the concerto itself as capturing “the fragrance of magnolias, the singing of birds, and the gushing of fountains” in the gardens of Aranjuez.

Rodrigo and his wife Victoria stayed silent for many years about the inspiration for the second movement, and thus the popular belief grew that it was inspired by the bombing of Guernica in 1937. In her autobiography, Victoria eventually declared that it was both an evocation of the happy days of their honeymoon and a response to Rodrigo’s devastation at the miscarriage of their first pregnancy. It was composed in 1939 in Paris.

Rodrigo, blind since age three, was a pianist. He did not play the guitar, yet he still managed to capture the spirit of the guitar in Spain…

… it was the first work Rodrigo had written for guitar and orchestra. The instrumentation is unusual: rarely does the guitar face the forces of a full orchestra. Instead, the guitar is never overwhelmed, remaining the solo instrument throughout…

A number of musicians have since reinterpreted the work, usually the second movement, perhaps most famously jazz legend Miles Davis in the company of arranger Gil Evans. On the album Sketches of Spain (1960), Davis says: “That melody is so strong that the softer you play it, the stronger it gets, and the stronger you play it, the weaker it gets.”  Violinist Ikuko Kawai’s version, “Aranjuez”, is an upbeat, faster update to the work. Clarinettist Jean-Christian Michel’s transcription of “Aranjuez” has sold some 1,500,000 copies. Guitarist Buckethead covered “Sketches of Spain” on his album Electric Tears as a tribute to Miles Davis. Bassist Buster Williams performs a solo bass transcription of the second movement of Concierto de Aranjuez on his album Griot Liberté (2006).

Until asked to perform and interpret Concierto de Aranjuez in 1991, the Spanish flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucía was not proficient at reading musical notation. De Lucía claimed in Paco de Lucía-Light and Shade: A Portrait that he gave greater emphasis to rhythmical accuracy in his interpretation of the Concierto at the expense of the perfect tone preferred by classical guitarists. Joaquín Rodrigo later declared that no one had ever played his composition in such a brilliant manner… wiki. Read more:  HERE

Artemis:  I woke up with it in my head.

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Reblog.