Anselm Kiefer - Aschenblume 2007-2012 Oil, emulsion, acrylic, shellac and chalk on canvas 380 x 280 cm (via: ozartsetc.com)

Anselm Kiefer - Aschenblume 2007-2012 Oil, emulsion, acrylic, shellac and chalk on canvas 380 x 280 cm (via: ozartsetc.com)


Anselm Kiefer - The Hierarchy of the Angels (Die Ordnung der Engel), 2000 (via: casadorada-sa.blogspot)

Anselm Kiefer - The Hierarchy of the Angels (Die Ordnung der Engel), 2000 (via: casadorada-sa.blogspot)


Anselm Kiefer, “Sommer in Barjac — Die berühmten Orden der Nacht” 2010, gouache on photographic paper. Courtesy Gagosian Gallery, New York (via: NY Times)   Translation of text: “Summer in Barjac — the renowned orders of the night.”  

Anselm Kiefer, “Sommer in Barjac — Die berühmten Orden der Nacht” 2010, gouache on photographic paper. Courtesy Gagosian Gallery, New York (via: NY Times) 

Translation of text: “Summer in Barjac — the renowned orders of the night.”  

Anselm Kiefer - Gagosian Gallery (via: sunhunters.ru)

Anselm Kiefer - Gagosian Gallery (via: sunhunters.ru)




Life is as dear to a mute creature as it is to man. Just as one wants happiness and fears pain, just as one wants to live and not die, so do other creatures.

~Dalai Lama


L’oro di Napoli- The Gold of Naples (pizza fritta)

Dashboard click box below for video.  :)  

L’oro di Napoli- The Gold of Naples 
Director: Vittorio De Sica 
Dino De Laurentiis … producer Marcello Girosi … executive producer  Carlo Ponti … producer

L’oro di Napoli- The Gold of Naples (pizza fritta)


Dashboard click box below for video.  :)  


L’oro di Napoli- The Gold of Naples 

Director: Vittorio De Sica

Dino De Laurentiis … producer
Marcello Girosi … executive producer
Carlo Ponti … producer



artemisdreaming:
Above:  Aleph from Les 22 clés de l’alphabet hébraïque (the 22 keys of the Hebrew alphabet), Frank Lalou


On the back part of the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of almost unbearable brilliance. At first I thought it was revolving; then I realised that this movement was an illusion created by the dizzying world it bounded. The Aleph’s diameter was probably little more than an inch, but all space was there, actual and undiminished. Each thing (a mirror’s face, let us say) was infinite things, since I distinctly saw it from every angle of the universe. I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I’d seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand; I saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget; I saw her tangled hair, her tall figure, I saw the cancer in her breast; I saw a ring of baked mud in a sidewalk, where before there had been a tree; I saw a summer house in Adrogué and a copy of the first English translation of Pliny — Philemon Holland’s — and all at the same time saw each letter on each page (as a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight); I saw a sunset in Querétaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal; I saw my empty bedroom; I saw in a closet in Alkmaar a terrestrial globe between two mirrors that multiplied it endlessly; I saw horses with flowing manes on a shore of the Caspian Sea at dawn; I saw the delicate bone structure of a hand; I saw the survivors of a battle sending out picture postcards; I saw in a showcase in Mirzapur a pack of Spanish playing cards; I saw the slanting shadows of ferns on a greenhouse floor; I saw tigers, pistons, bison, tides, and armies; I saw all the ants on the planet; I saw a Persian astrolabe; I saw in the drawer of a writing table (and the handwriting made me tremble) unbelievable, obscene, detailed letters, which Beatriz had written to Carlos Argentino; I saw a monument I worshipped in the Chacarita cemetery; I saw the rotted dust and bones that had once deliciously been Beatriz Viterbo; I saw the circulation of my own dark blood; I saw the coupling of love and the modification of death; I saw the Aleph from every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and in the earth the Aleph and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own bowels; I saw your face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret and conjectured object whose name is common to all men but which no man has looked upon — the unimaginable universe.
 I felt infinite wonder, infinite pity.

 ~Jorge Luis Borges , The Aleph

artemisdreaming:

Above:  Aleph from Les 22 clés de l’alphabet hébraïque (the 22 keys of the Hebrew alphabet), Frank Lalou


On the back part of the step, toward the right, I saw a small iridescent sphere of almost unbearable brilliance. At first I thought it was revolving; then I realised that this movement was an illusion created by the dizzying world it bounded. The Aleph’s diameter was probably little more than an inch, but all space was there, actual and undiminished. Each thing (a mirror’s face, let us say) was infinite things, since I distinctly saw it from every angle of the universe. I saw the teeming sea; I saw daybreak and nightfall; I saw the multitudes of America; I saw a silvery cobweb in the center of a black pyramid; I saw a splintered labyrinth (it was London); I saw, close up, unending eyes watching themselves in me as in a mirror; I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me; I saw in a backyard of Soler Street the same tiles that thirty years before I’d seen in the entrance of a house in Fray Bentos; I saw bunches of grapes, snow, tobacco, lodes of metal, steam; I saw convex equatorial deserts and each one of their grains of sand; I saw a woman in Inverness whom I shall never forget; I saw her tangled hair, her tall figure, I saw the cancer in her breast; I saw a ring of baked mud in a sidewalk, where before there had been a tree; I saw a summer house in Adrogué and a copy of the first English translation of Pliny — Philemon Holland’s — and all at the same time saw each letter on each page (as a boy, I used to marvel that the letters in a closed book did not get scrambled and lost overnight); I saw a sunset in Querétaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal; I saw my empty bedroom; I saw in a closet in Alkmaar a terrestrial globe between two mirrors that multiplied it endlessly; I saw horses with flowing manes on a shore of the Caspian Sea at dawn; I saw the delicate bone structure of a hand; I saw the survivors of a battle sending out picture postcards; I saw in a showcase in Mirzapur a pack of Spanish playing cards; I saw the slanting shadows of ferns on a greenhouse floor; I saw tigers, pistons, bison, tides, and armies; I saw all the ants on the planet; I saw a Persian astrolabe; I saw in the drawer of a writing table (and the handwriting made me tremble) unbelievable, obscene, detailed letters, which Beatriz had written to Carlos Argentino; I saw a monument I worshipped in the Chacarita cemetery; I saw the rotted dust and bones that had once deliciously been Beatriz Viterbo; I saw the circulation of my own dark blood; I saw the coupling of love and the modification of death; I saw the Aleph from every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and in the earth the Aleph and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own bowels; I saw your face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret and conjectured object whose name is common to all men but which no man has looked upon — the unimaginable universe.

 

I felt infinite wonder, infinite pity.


 ~Jorge Luis Borges , The Aleph


I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me.


~Jorge Luis Borges, The Aleph
  Image:  Horacio Villalobos / Corbis (via: .thedailybeast.com)

I saw all the mirrors on earth and none of them reflected me.


~Jorge Luis Borges, The Aleph

  Image:  Horacio Villalobos / Corbis (via: .thedailybeast.com)


Bernstein Dancing to Ravel’s La Valse  (via: mahleras | youtube)


The National Orchestra of France performs Ravel’s La Valse under the direction of Leonard Bernstein at Thaétre des Champs Elysées, Paris, 1975.


Artemis:  He’s having a really good time.  LOL 

Nice when that happens. :)


Un poète doit laisser des traces de son passage, non des preuves. Seules les traces font rêver.
“

René Char


A poet should leave traces of his passage, not proofs. Traces alone engender dreams.  


Work from Série du couple and Série humanum, héliogravure, photopolymer film

Pierre Cambon HERE


Jidai Matsuri Festival  ajpscs  (via: NYoshi on pinterest  HERE)

From Wiki:  ”The Jidai Matsuri (時代祭り) Festival of the Ages is a traditional Japanese festival (also called the matsuri) held on October 22 annually in Kyoto, Japan. It is one of Kyoto’s renowned three great festivals, with the other two being the Aoi Matsuri, held annually on May 15, and the Gion Matsuri, which is held annually from 17 to July 24. It is a festival enjoyed by people of all ages, participating in its historical reenactment parade dressed in authentic costumes representing various periods, and characters in Japanese feudal history.

Jidai Matsuri traces its roots with the relocation of the Japanese capital to Tokyo in 1868. This involved the relocation of the Emperor of Japan and his imperial family, the Imperial Palace and thousands of government officials and subjects to the city. Fearing for Kyoto’s loss in glory and interest by her people, the city government and the Kyoto Prefectural Government commemorated the 1100th anniversary of the founding of Heian-kyō (平安京) which was the former name of Kyoto, in 794 by Emperor Kammu (桓武天皇 Kanmu-tennō?) (737 - 806). To inaugurate the first Jidai celebration in 1895, the city government built the Heian Shrine (平安神宮 Heian jingū?) to enshrine the spirit of Emperor Kanmu. To add meaning to the festival, it staged a costume procession representing people of each era in Kyoto history. In 1940, the local government decided that on top of honouring Emperor Kammu, the Jidai festival was also to be held in honour of Emperor Kōmei (孝明天皇 Kōmei-tennō) (July 22, 1831 - January 30, 1867) for his work in unifying the country, the power of the imperial court and the affirmation of Kyoto as the center of Japan at the decline of the Tokugawa Shogunate and the Edo Era.

The Jidai Matsuri begins in early morning with the mikoshi (portable shrines) brought out of the Old Imperial Palace so that people may pay their respects. The mikoshi represent emperors Kanmu and Kōmei, respectively. The five-hour, two-kilometer costume procession begins in the afternoon, with approximately 2,000 performers dressed as samurai, military figures, and common people, from the earliest eras to the Meiji era These are followed by Japanese women who are dressed in elaborate jūnihitoe (十二単衣 juunihitoe). And, finally, the mikoshi are carried from the palace and are accompanied by a costumed military band that is playing the gagaku. The procession ends at the Heian Shrine.”  

Jidai Matsuri Festival  ajpscs  (via: NYoshi on pinterest  HERE)


From Wiki:  ”The Jidai Matsuri (時代祭り) Festival of the Ages is a traditional Japanese festival (also called the matsuri) held on October 22 annually in Kyoto, Japan. It is one of Kyoto’s renowned three great festivals, with the other two being the Aoi Matsuri, held annually on May 15, and the Gion Matsuri, which is held annually from 17 to July 24. It is a festival enjoyed by people of all ages, participating in its historical reenactment parade dressed in authentic costumes representing various periods, and characters in Japanese feudal history.

Jidai Matsuri traces its roots with the relocation of the Japanese capital to Tokyo in 1868. This involved the relocation of the Emperor of Japan and his imperial family, the Imperial Palace and thousands of government officials and subjects to the city. Fearing for Kyoto’s loss in glory and interest by her people, the city government and the Kyoto Prefectural Government commemorated the 1100th anniversary of the founding of Heian-kyō (平安京) which was the former name of Kyoto, in 794 by Emperor Kammu (桓武天皇 Kanmu-tennō?) (737 - 806). To inaugurate the first Jidai celebration in 1895, the city government built the Heian Shrine (平安神宮 Heian jingū?) to enshrine the spirit of Emperor Kanmu. To add meaning to the festival, it staged a costume procession representing people of each era in Kyoto history. In 1940, the local government decided that on top of honouring Emperor Kammu, the Jidai festival was also to be held in honour of Emperor Kōmei (孝明天皇 Kōmei-tennō) (July 22, 1831 - January 30, 1867) for his work in unifying the country, the power of the imperial court and the affirmation of Kyoto as the center of Japan at the decline of the Tokugawa Shogunate and the Edo Era.

The Jidai Matsuri begins in early morning with the mikoshi (portable shrines) brought out of the Old Imperial Palace so that people may pay their respects. The mikoshi represent emperors Kanmu and Kōmei, respectively. The five-hour, two-kilometer costume procession begins in the afternoon, with approximately 2,000 performers dressed as samurai, military figures, and common people, from the earliest eras to the Meiji era These are followed by Japanese women who are dressed in elaborate jūnihitoe (十二単衣 juunihitoe). And, finally, the mikoshi are carried from the palace and are accompanied by a costumed military band that is playing the gagaku. The procession ends at the Heian Shrine.”  


Shirasagi-no-mai by ajpscs on Flickr  
The white heron (shirasagi) dancer at Senso-ji temple, Tokyo, Japan

Description for ajpscs:  ”The white heron (shirasagi) dance is one thousand years old. It is a religious rite to drive out the plague and purify the spirits on their passage to the next world. The white faces of the dancers signify innocence, purity and gentleness. People love the beautiful snow-white figure of heron and crane (tsuru) as a symbol of peace. According to religious belief pure white cranes inhabit the Isles of the Bless and their powerful wings are able to convey souls to the Western Paradise.

The Tale
Many old tales tell about white big birds which have been admired in Japan for their noble and graceful appearance. There is an old story about a lonely farmer who saved a crane’s life. The bird turned into a beautiful woman and became his wife. One day she asked the husband to build her a weaving room and promise never to peek inside. The wife wove beautiful thousand-crane patterned fabric from which the farmer could make a lot of money. They had been living happily but due to the wife’s diminishing health the farmer looked into the room and saw a crane weaving cloth by picking up beautiful feathers from her body. After becoming aware that the farmer had discovered her true identity the crane flew to heaven. photojapan.karigrohn.com/shirasagi/shirasagi no mai.htm.”  Image and text:  HERE (via: Annalisa Donà on pinterest   HERE)

Dashboard click box below for video of the festival and dance.

Shirasagi-no-mai by ajpscs on Flickr  

The white heron (shirasagi) dancer at Senso-ji temple, Tokyo, Japan

Description for ajpscs:  ”The white heron (shirasagi) dance is one thousand years old. It is a religious rite to drive out the plague and purify the spirits on their passage to the next world. The white faces of the dancers signify innocence, purity and gentleness. People love the beautiful snow-white figure of heron and crane (tsuru) as a symbol of peace. According to religious belief pure white cranes inhabit the Isles of the Bless and their powerful wings are able to convey souls to the Western Paradise.

The Tale

Many old tales tell about white big birds which have been admired in Japan for their noble and graceful appearance. There is an old story about a lonely farmer who saved a crane’s life. The bird turned into a beautiful woman and became his wife. One day she asked the husband to build her a weaving room and promise never to peek inside. The wife wove beautiful thousand-crane patterned fabric from which the farmer could make a lot of money. They had been living happily but due to the wife’s diminishing health the farmer looked into the room and saw a crane weaving cloth by picking up beautiful feathers from her body. After becoming aware that the farmer had discovered her true identity the crane flew to heaven. photojapan.karigrohn.com/shirasagi/shirasagi no mai.htm.”  Image and text:  HERE (via: Annalisa Donà on pinterest   HERE)


Dashboard click box below for video of the festival and dance.



The moon in all her immaculate purity hung in the sky, laughing at this world of dust. She congratulated me for my carefully considered maneuvers and invited me to share in her eternal solitude.
“
Shan Sa, Empress 
artemisdreaming:
Figurehead
Andreas Heumann  HERE

artemisdreaming:

Figurehead

Andreas Heumann  HERE