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Thursday, 28 July 2011

Photo: Abandoned cat

A few days ago we heard a cat "mjawing" and then we found a kitten hiding around our house. About 2 months old, I'd say and probably a female. Anyway, she got used to us quite quickly, loves to be in the lap or on a shoulder and licks fingers, hands, nose, cheeks... She's very playful and cute. I've never had a cat before, so this is something new to me, but I'm surprised at how adorable she is in looks and behaviour. Can't belive who would give her up.














Mjaw, til the next time!
Natašek

Saturday, 2 July 2011

Prose: How to speak poetry by Leonard Cohen

How To Speak Poetry by Leonard Cohen

Take the word butterfly. To use this word it is not necessary to make the voice weigh less than an ounce or equip it with small dusty wings. It is not necessary to invent a sunny day or a field of daffodils. It is not necessary to be in love, or to be in love with butterflies. The word butterfly is not a real butterfly. There is the word and there is the butterfly. If you confuse these two items people have the right to laugh at you. Do not make so much of the word. Are you trying to suggest that you love butterflies more perfectly than anyone else, or really understand their nature? The word butterfly is merely data. It is not an opportunity for you to hover, soar, befriend flowers, symbolize beauty and frailty, or in any way impersonate a butterfly. Do not act out words. Never act out words. Never try to leave the floor when you talk about flying. Never close your eyes and jerk your head to one side when you talk about death. Do not fix your burning eyes on me when you speak about love. If you want to impress me when you speak about love put your hand in your pocket or under your dress and play with yourself. If ambition and the hunger for applause have driven you to speak about love you should learn how to do it without disgracing yourself or the material.

What is the expression which the age demands? The age demands no expression whatever. We have seen photographs of bereaved Asian mothers. We are not interested in the agony of your fumbled organs. There is nothing you can show on your face that can match the horror of this time. Do not even try. You will only hold yourself up to the scorn of those who have felt things deeply. We have seen newsreels of humans in the extremities of pain and dislocation. Everyone knows you are eating well and are even being paid to stand up there. You are playing to people who have experienced a catastrophe. This should make you very quiet. Speak the words, convey the data, step aside. Everyone knows you are in pain. You cannot tell the audience everything you know about love in every line of love you speak. Step aside and they will know what you know because you know it already. You have nothing to teach them. You are not more beautiful than they are. You are not wiser. Do not shout at them. Do not force a dry entry. That is bad sex. If you show the lines of your genitals, then deliver what you promise. And remember that people do not really want an acrobat in bed. What is our need? To be close to the natural man, to be close to the natural woman. Do not pretend that you are a beloved singer with a vast loyal audience which has followed the ups and downs of your life to this very moment. The bombs, flame-throwers, and all the shit have destroyed more than just the trees and villages. They have also destroyed the stage. Did you think that your profession would escape the general destruction? There is no more stage. There are no more footlights. You are among the people. Then be modest. Speak the words, convey the data, step aside. Be by yourself. Be in your own room. Do not put yourself on.

This is an interior landscape. It is inside. It is private. Respect the privacy of the material. These pieces were written in silence. The courage of the play is to speak them. The discipline of the play is not to violate them. Let the audience feel your love of privacy even though there is no privacy. Be good whores. The poem is not a slogan. It cannot advertise you. It cannot promote your reputation for sensitivity. You are not a stud. You are not a killer lady. All this junk about the gangsters of love. You are students of discipline. Do not act out the words. The words die when you act them out, they wither, and we are left with nothing but your ambition.

Speak the words with the exact precision with which you would check out a laundry list. Do not become emotional about the lace blouse. Do not get a hard-on when you say panties. Do not get all shivery just because of the towel. The sheets should not provoke a dreamy expression about the eyes. There is no need to weep into the handkerchief. The socks are not there to remind you of strange and distant voyages. It is just your laundry. It is just your clothes. Don't peep through them. Just wear them.

The poem is nothing but information. It is the Constitution of the inner country. If you declaim it and blow it up with noble intentions then you are no better than the politicians whom you despise. You are just someone waving a flag and making the cheapest kind of appeal to a kind of emotional patriotism. Think of the words as science, not as art. They are a report. You are speaking before a meeting of the Explorers' Club of the National Geographic Society. These people know all the risks of mountain climbing. They honour you by taking this for granted. If you rub their faces in it that is an insult to their hospitality. Tell them about the height of the mountain, the equipment you used, be specific about the surfaces and the time it took to scale it. Do not work the audience for gasps ans sighs. If you are worthy of gasps and sighs it will not be from your appreciation of the event but from theirs. It will be in the statistics and not the trembling of the voice or the cutting of the air with your hands. It will be in the data and the quiet organization of your presence.

Avoid the flourish. Do not be afraid to be weak. Do not be ashamed to be tired. You look good when you're tired. You look like you could go on forever. Now come into my arms. You are the image of my beauty.

I found this through Poetictouch on facebook. I'm sharing it with you now, because it inspired me.

Cheers,
Natašek

Breastfeeding through art

After pregnancy and childbirth collections, the next logical step is a breastfeeding art collection.

A newborn baby has only three demands.  They are warmth in the arms of its mother, food from her breasts, and security in the knowledge of her presence.  Breastfeeding satisfies all three.  ~Grantly Dick-Read

Isis breastfeeding Horus (source)

Egyptian bottle showing breastfeeding (source)
Detail from a 15th century French manuscript illustration (source)




The Virgin Mary Nursing Her Child by Hans Memling (source)
The Holy Family by Rembrandt (source)
Detail of a wood engraving from the 15th century (source)
The Birth of Saint John the Baptist by Domenico Grihlandaio (source)
Holy Family by Francisco de Zurbaran (source)
Virgin of the Green Cushion by Solario (source)
The Storm by Giorgione (source)
Madonna & Child by Guido Reni (source)
Detail from cathedral in Lima, Peru


Nursing does not diminish the beauty of a woman's breasts; it enhances their charm by making them look lived in and happy.  ~Robert A. Heinlein


 

The wet nurse by Mattia Pretti (source)
From British Museum, London


From cathedral in Madrid, Spain
Lady Mary Boyle by Sir Godfrey Kneller

Mother breastfeeding her child by Jean Baptiste Camille Corot

Hortense breastfeeding Paul by Paul Cezanne, 1872

The Breastfeeding mother by Marguerite Gerard

A detail of a painting from 16th century showing a wet nurse.
Before the Ball by Edouard Debat-Ponsan (source)
The Milky way by Peter Paul Rubens (source)
Breastfeediny by Pablo Picasso

Breastfeeding mother by Auguste Renoir

My nurse and I by Frida Kahlo, 1937

Negermutter by Ernst Neuschul, 1931
The mother by Gari Melcher
New Earth by Elanor Colburn (source)
Nursing mother (source)
Nesting (source)
(source)

Inuit woman nursing twins (source)
(source)

No one could give her such soothing and sensible consolation as this little three-month-old creature when he lay at her breast and she felt the movement of his lips and the snuffling of his tiny nose.  ~Leo Tolstoy


There is also a picasa album open to public about breastfeeding madonnas, you can find it - here.

Next compliation... Babies? :)

Natašek

Friday, 1 July 2011

Music: Various Artist pt. 1 (The rainy days)

First of July offered us rain. And we took it. Rain usually puts my mind into the creative state and there's also certain kind of music that helps me with it. 

I'll start the collection with This will destroy you. I've known them for awhile and their music has helped me through a many writters block.

This will destroy you: The mighty rio grade (the video contains scenes of nature, earth)

I've heard the song This time around by Helen Stellar on the soundtrack for Elizabeth town. It was few years back and it was summertime, but unusually rainy. I've painted a picture while listening to the song, and later when I saw this video I realized I used the same concepts.

The cinematic orcherstra: to build a home (love the idea they used in the video)

Kwoon: Eternal Jellyfish Ballet. I've featured a music video by Kwoon in a post about animations, this time I'll feature a favourite of mine.

Low: Lullaby

Peter Broderick: Not at home

Raised by Swans: We were never young 

Message to bears: November

The Walthall Tango: Snow Cow Exodus

Hammock: I can almost see you

Ef: Longing for colors

Parachutes: Paper birds

Immanu El: Under your wings I'll hide

Max Richter: The nature of daylight. Max is a composer of classical music, and I found him through a soundtrack for a movie, don't remember which one. But this piece is just beautiful, moves me to tears.

Riceboy sleeps: Stokkseyri. I'll end this collection with Jonsi (singer of sigur ros) and Alex, again, a beautiful piece.

So this should be enough to get you through these rainy days of summer.

Until next time.

Enjoy,
Natašek