Blima Efraim - Hemingway Cat HERE
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A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.
~Ernest Hemingway
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Trieste
(Ho attraversata tutta la città)
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I traversed the whole city.
Then climbed a hill
crowded at first, in the end deserted,
closed off by a little wall,
a corner where I alone
sit; and it seems to me where it ends
the city ends.
Trieste has a sullen
grace, If you like,
it’s a delinquent, bitter, voracious,
with blue eyes and hands too clumsy
to offer flowers;
like love
possessed by jealousy.
From this hill I discover every church,
every street, follow them to the cluttered shore,
or the stony slope, on whose
summit a house, the last one, clings.
Circling,
surrounding all these things
a strange air, a tormented air,
the native air.
My city, alive in every part,
has left this corner for me, for my life,
pensive, and quiet.
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~Umberto Saba, 1883-1957
Translated by A. S. Kline
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From wiki: “Umberto Saba (9 March 1883 – 26 August 1957) was an Italian poet and novelist, born Umberto Poli in the cosmopolitan Mediterranean port of Trieste when it was the fourth largest city of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Poli assumed the nom de plume “Saba” in 1910, and his name was officially changed to Umberto Saba in 1928. From 1919 he was the proprietor of an antiquarian bookshop in Trieste. He suffered from depression all his adult life.”
Grand Canal, Amsterdam; Nocturne, 1883-84, Watercolor on paper, The Smithsonian
James McNeill Whistler
The Fortune Teller, 1633-39, Metropolitan Museum of Art
Georges de La Tour
Large image: HERE
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Artemis: Attribution to de La Tour has been questioned. The Met is attributing it to La tour based on the inscription on the top right - “G. de La Tour Fecit Luneuilla Lothar” (“G de La Tour made this, Lunéville, Lorraine”). Lunéville in Lorraine is the name of the town that de La Tour lived. The painting may be based on The Prodigal Son parable.
Cranes
Zhao Ji
Detail
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Bio from Wiki: “Emperor Huizong (2 November 1082 – 4 June 1135) was the eighth and one of the most famous emperors of the Song Dynasty of China, with a personal life spent amidst luxury, sophistication and art but ending in tragedy.
Born Zhao Ji, he was the 11th son of Emperor Shenzong. In February 1100 his older half-brother Emperor Zhezong (哲宗) died without a surviving son, and Huizong succeeded him the next day as emperor. He reigned from 1100 to 1126.
Huizong was famed for his promotion of Taoism. He was also a skilled poet, painter, calligrapher, and musician. He sponsored numerous artists at his court, and the catalogue of his imperial painting collection lists over 6,000 known paintings.
His temple name means “Honorary Ancestor.”… read more from wiki: HERE
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Emperor Huizong of Song, emperor of China from 1100-1126 AD
Listening to the Qin (聽琴圖)
Attributed to Attributed to Zhao Ji (趙佶), Song Dynasty (960-1279)
Hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 147.2 x 51.3 cm, Palace Museum, Beijing
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Eyes Embroidered with Plums (梅花繡眼圖)
Attributed to Zhao Ji (趙佶), Song Dynasty (960-1279)
Album leaf, ink and color on silk, 24.5 x 24.8 cm, Palace Museum, Beijing
Above: Samuel Beckett outside a Parisian café, 1988 via: weekenderonline.net
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I don’t know: perhaps it’s a dream, all a dream. (That would surprise me.) I’ll wake, in the silence, and never sleep again. (It will be I?) Or dream (dream again), dream of a silence, a dream silence, full of murmurs (I don’t know, that’s all words), never wake (all words, there’s nothing else).
You must go on, that’s all I know.
They’re going to stop, I know that well: I can feel it. They’re going to abandon me. It will be the silence, for a moment (a good few moments). Or it will be mine? The lasting one, that didn’t last, that still lasts? It will be I?
You must go on.
I can’t go on.
You must go on.
I’ll go on. You must say words, as long as there are any - until they find me, until they say me. (Strange pain, strange sin!) You must go on. Perhaps it’s done already. Perhaps they have said me already. Perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story. (That would surprise me, if it opens.)
It will be I? It will be the silence, where I am? I don’t know, I’ll never know: in the silence you don’t know.
You must go on.
I can’t go on.
I’ll go on.
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~Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable, 1953
Above: Samuel Beckett In Cafe Francais, Boulevard St. Jacques, Paris, December 1985
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No need of a mouth: the words are everywhere, inside me, outside me. (Well, well! A minute ago I had no thickness!) I hear them? No need to hear them, no need of a head. Impossible to stop them, impossible to stop. I’m in words, made of words, others’ words. (What others?) The place too - the air, the walls, the floor, the ceiling: all words. The whole world is here with me. I’m the air, the walls, the walled-in one. Everything yields, opens, ebbs, flows. Like flakes. I’m all these flakes, meeting, mingling, falling asunder. Wherever I go I find me, leave me, go towards me, come from me: nothing ever but me, a particle of me, retrieved, lost, gone astray. I’m all these words, all these strangers: this dust of words (with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing) coming together to say (fleeing one another to say) that I am they, all of them: those that merge, those that part, those that never meet. And nothing else.
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~Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable, 1953
Textile art by Melanie Ciccone HERE
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Artemis: Found on pinterest (D. Cooper) with no source info. :( I couldn’t find a personal website but the link above is a gallery that represented her.
