13 juillet 2009

what facebook tests say about me...:summer is good.

and all this because i was born in July.
...summer is good, summer is true. summer is me.

* good company/Agréable compagnie
* secretive/Secrete
* not easy to understand, hard time making herself understood/Difficile à comprendre et difficile de se faire comprendre
* usually calm, unless tense or excited/Calme sauf si excitée ou tendue
* proud of herself/Fiere de toi-même
* quite concerned when it comes to her reputation/Fait attention à ta réputation
* easily comforted/Facilement réconfortée
* honest/Honnête
* attentionate to other people's feelings/Attentif aux sentiments de ton entourage
* tactful/Sait faire preuve de tact
* friendly/Amicale
* open, open minded/Accessible
* very emotive/Très émotive
* unpredictable/Tempérament imprévisible
* somewhat depressed/depressive; easily hurt/Déprimée et facilement blessée
* witty and sarcastic/Pleine d´esprit et sarcastique
* sentimental/Sentimentale
* doesn't care much about vengeance/Pas vengeuse
* forgives, but never forgets/Pardonne mais n´oublie jamais
* hates absurd, useless things (hmmm)/Déteste l’absurde et les choses inutiles
* tends to guide others, physically as well as mentally/Guide les autres physiquement et mentalement
* sensitive/Sensible
* loving/Aimante
* fair with people/Traite les autres équitablement
* strong sense of sympathy, empathy./Sens fort de la sympathie
* Circonspect et pointue/
* judges others through observation/Juge les gens en les observant
* fast, easy learner/Aucune difficulté pour étudier
* likes being alone (sometimes)/Aime être seule
* always brings out the past and old friends/Ressasse toujours le passé et les vieux amis
* likes being..tranquil, in calm environments/Aime être tranquille
* simple/Personne simple
* ????/ Attends des amis [???]
* doesn't try making firends/ Ne cherche jamais à se faire des amis
* not agressive - unless provoked/ Non agressive à moins d’être provoquée
* loves to be loved/ Aime être aimée
* easily hurt - takes a long time to recover/ Facilement blessée et prend longtemps pour récupérer
* excessively concerned/worried? /Excessivement concernée
* not afraid to put in a lot of hard work and those extra hours/ Met de l´effort dans le travail

30 juin 2009

Nuevas Palabras.

ñorda
agilipollao
chancho
tarado
chorra
tiene un morro que se lo pisa
ser petardo
cabrón
mamón
capullo
giliflautas
haragan
aguafiestas
pajolero
pendejo

ah, sans oublier la dédicace, bien sûr...

Welcome to my nightmare.

Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
A nocturnal vacation
Unnecessary sedation
You want to feel at home 'cause you belong

Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
I hope I didn't scare you
That's just the way we are when we come down
We sweat and laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here

Welcome to my breakdown
Whoa
You're welcome to my nightmare
Yeah

Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
We sweat laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
Yeah

Les Ecorches Vifs

quiero verte para golpearte.hola.
quiero verte para que sientas lo que senti yo.que tal.


Emmène-moi danser
Dans les dessous
Des villes en folie
Puisqu'il y a dans ces endroits
Autant de songes
Que quand on dort
Mais on n'dort pas
Alors autant se tordre
Ici et là
Et se rejoindre en bas
Puisqu'on se lasse de tout
Pourquoi nous entrelaçons-nous ?

Pour les écorchés vifs
On en a des sévices

Allez enfouis-moi
Passe-moi par dessus tous les bords
Mais reste encore un peu après
Que même la fin soit terminée
Moi j'ai pas allumé la mèche
C'est Lautréamont
Qui me presse
Dans les déserts
Là où il prêche
Ou devant rien
On donne la messe.
Pour les écorchés
Serre-moi encore
Étouffe-moi si tu peux
Toi qui sais où
Après une subtile esquisse
On a enfoncé les vis...

Nous les écorchés vifs
On en a des sévices.

Oh mais non rien de grave
Y a nos hématomes crochus qui nous sauvent
Et tous nos points communs
Dans les dents
Nos lambeaux de peau
Qu'on retrouve ça et là
Dans tous les coins
Ne cesse pas de trembler
C'est comme ça que je te reconnais
Même s'il vaut beaucoup mieux pour toi
Que tu trembles un peu moins que moi.
Emmene-moi, emmene-moi
On doit pouvoir
Se rendre écarlates
Et même
Si on précipite
On devrait voir
White light white heat
Allez enfouis-moi
Passe-moi par dessus tous les bords
Encore un effort
On sera de nouveau
Calmes et tranquilles
Calmes et tranquilles
Serre-moi encore
Serre-moi encore
Etouffe-moi si tu peux...
Serre-moi encore

Nous les écorchés vifs
On en a des sévices

Nous les écorchés
On en a des sévices
Nous les écorchés
On en a des sévices
Les écorchés vifs
On les sent les vis
Nous les écorchés
On en a des sévices
Les écorchés vifs

25 juin 2009

heal.pretend.smile.

sana que sana
colita de rana
si no sanas hoy

sanaras manana.

que llueva que llueva
la luna esta en la cueva
los pajaritos cantan
la luna se levanta
que si
que no
que caiga un chaparron

sol solecito
calentame un poquito
hoy y manana
y toda la semana

luna lunera
cinco pollitos
y una ternera

caracol caracol
saca tus cuernos al sol.

23 juin 2009

N

"c'est fini"
sur la route - jack kerouac
couteau suisse
bracelet

recuperer une direction
ir hacia el sur,el sur, el sur
je te dirai ce que tu veux entendre, gatito
pa' que no tengas mala conciencia
je vais mieux
j'ai de moins en moins mal
non
je n'ai plus mal
y si estoy escuchando a chavela vargas, es para asgurarme que todo fue mentira
a lo mejor nunca te ame
no lloro, palomita negra
je ne languis plus de te voir, que tu me voyes
je ne desire plus tes mains dans mes cheveux, ni ton corps dans mon lit
ni ta voix, ni ton sourire crepu, pisoi
tu n'es pas une merveille
juste un idifferent, gatito mio
vete hacia el sur el sur el sur el sur
sol solecito, calentame un poquito
je vais mieux pour ta bonne conscience
c'etait rien, juste un petit mal de tete qui passe en quelques minutes
nurofen ia durerea cu mana
si nu e mana ta, pisoi
mana ta ma doare,pisoi
si agenda mea e plina,n-am sa vin maine, nu vreau, nu vreau nu vreau

acum poti inceta sa gandesti in locul meu, pacalindu-te ca stii tu mai bine ce e o idee bun si ce nu
acum poti inceta sa crezi ca as traversa parisul sa te vad - cat orgoliu
acum poti inceta sa-ti mai fie teama ca am sa sar pe tine
nu te voi inghiti pe nemesetecate
nu-ti fie teama, pisoi
nu-mi mai datorezi nimic. nu ai nici o responsabilitate
in afara de cea de a-mi fi spulberat lacrimile pe o masa de restaurant
aproape de opera; sper ca ai sters masa aceea bine, ca ai frecat harnic.

ma intrebi cum pot sa fiu eu, cand stiu ce stiu si nu vreau sa cred
fiindca acum nu mai sunt eu.
multumesc, m-ai invatat sa fiu trista.
pam pam.

18 avril 2009

the day's most recent obsession

this is no draft.
enjoy: yep yep i'm goin' crazy and 've been listening to this for at least 20 hours in a loud fucking loop.
HA!

10 avril 2009

comment dire?

mais qu'est-ce que je fous la?
ce n'est que quand j'ai failli me faire ecraser par une moto en plein passage pietons que je me suis rendue compte que le feu etait rouge et qu'il y avait tout un monde autour de moi, pas seulement une sorte de platanes flottants et un tapis roulant en bitum.

de toute facon, depuis trois jours, chaque fois que je prends le bus ou que le metro sort en surface, j'ai l'impression que je vis dans une ville en carton. une immense et interminable maison de poupee, a chaque coup disproportionnee ( soit trop grand, soit trop petit). avec un grand tuyau d'eau au milieu.

d'ailleurs, la surprise d'une catastrophe possible, mais evitee par l'attention du motard, ca m'a fait un effet bizarre de - vas-y, marche plus vite, on va rentrer, c'est fou ici. 
je ressentais chaque pas comme une agression de plus, je me sentais de plus en plus mefiante.
aussi -  ce fut comme une sorte de cassure dans l'engrenage (je marche, je reflechis, gauche, droit, gauche, droit, rythme soutenu), une sorte de "putain - mais je suis la sans etre la, qu'est-ce qui se passe?" - un peu comme quand tu te reveilles en plein milieu d'un reve - ou un reveil tres brusque tout court. et puis - allez, plus vite, faut se barrer d'ici.

or cette ville en carton - on dirait que chaque foisqu'il pleut, ca va s'ecrouler, ou se tremper jusqu'aux os - euh poutres - , puis secher et s'onduler comme du papier que quelqu'un aurait mis sur un radiateur a secher, puisque c'etait un document utile.

mais aujourd'hui il a fait beau.

27 mars 2009

I was falling asleep when I realized I was smiling.
I was warm and fuzzy
But the music was too loud, so I turned it down a bit.

back to warm and fuzzy.

that's all.

19 mars 2009

this is not a party blog

We always pout about the americans for having exported such shallow holidays as halloween and st valentine's day - but france is quite keen on another not-so-national holiday, wich has the advantage of giving an excuse for another get-drunk-party, by celebrating the 17th of march as the day that a certain patrick (patty for friends) brought the true faith of catholicism to Ireland.
Green lepercauns and Guiness are hence the leitmotifs of the day - the evening actually.

So last tuesday, i went to such a party with some friends. had a few "half-pints" (something that you can only have in france, as the Irish or other true beer drinking nations would consider that blasphemy, that and the grenadine or peach syrup poured into beer), one or two sips of whiskey and then, as every french party goes, went to someone's place, to keep partying with leftover sangria and orange juice. French songs were sung, cigarettes  and spliffs were smoked, and tantrums were had by a tipsy and snappy when tipsy host.

But that's not the point. there was a guy there, that one of my friends brought to this party some time later. he'd just met him. 
Young, black, cute,dreadlocks, quiet, dressed in black, no-drinker, and huge fan of bob marley's "bad boys".  he's alomost 21, born august 23rd, half virgo, half leo, came from gouadeloupe four years ago and had some bad stuff going on. so ended up in the street. he used to stay with some old-school punksaround bastille for a while, but now he'd rather be by himself. his best friend is 51 and did some jail-time. 
He showed me some rap songs he had written about his world, his life. he had written them in his native creole, full of jamaican slang- so he had to litteraly translate them to me. we talked for hours.

[there's depeche mode's wrong airing on the radio - somehow, it fits more than anything i can say]

Anyhow, meeting him really had me thinking annd saying sorry every five minutes.
Why? because when you meet people like this, and see they're living a life you've only seen in documentaries or from up your ivory tower, a life you have a million stereotypes about, a life you fear as much as you fear the people who are living it, from the safety and abundance of your calm, university-going intellectual appartment.

Somehow, saying to someone like this that your fridge is empty and you have to go buy some groceries puts things into a very fucked-up perspective. 
so i was sorry. not so much for him (he seemed to take care of himself quite well and he was quite aware of his situation, he wanted out of it, he had plans as to how to do that, he'd stopped dealing and stealing for a while now and he almost died some time ago. the ambulance people hadn't noticed him, as some cars were burning in aparking lot). I was sorry  for my taking things for granted. for a kind of insensibility, of unawareness or...way of saying things to him (although i'm not sure if i was just imagining that, or if he actually noticed that). he said i was funny and made him laugh.

I mean, what the fuck do i have the right and justice to complain about?

13 mars 2009

strasbourg, strasbourg

ok, j'suis a strasbourg. 
il est 11h23 et je prends mon cafe-jus d'orange dans petit bar rockeur pres des facs. 
mfk, 3 rue de l'abruvoir. bus 30, arret kruetenau ou cite administrative.
 il me reste 45 minutes de batterie sur mon ordi.
quand j'suis arrivee c'etait ferme. puis apres la fille a ouvert, a descendu des tabourets expres pour moi. ac/dc dans les haut-parleurs. le bonheur. puis apres, odeur de produit pour les sols (l'odeur de propre, clean, curat de la societe de consommation) et les doors. encore, le bonheur. on a parle des jeunes qui ne vont pas au musee, de la culture pour tous, des bistros tellement pas rock a paris, de son bar a elle ou il y a des fois des concerts. et du fait que je suis trooop contente de l'avoir trouve ce pti bar pas comme les autres. yeah.
des mini pochoirs avec des cranes flottants sur les murs. rock'n'roll man.
ca rappelle des bons souvenirs d'ete.
et le pire, c'est que je porte un pull rose. mais vraiment rose.
lookin like a groupie. and there's no band. lol.

strasbourg - naaan, mais j'adooore.

(photos should be uploaded quite soon. i hope.)

26 février 2009

like an urge to do stuff

m'kay, got itchy hands t'day. and can pathetically feel some glimpse of inner peace, yeah.
yeah, that bad.
no, no butterflies in my stomach kind of reason, just - the holidays i guess. - well, there was a such a reason, but that's like soooo two weeks ago.  and then there was venice. but it's still not that.
just itchy hands, some kind of positive nervousness (yes, that exists), some fear of the future (really, i'm clueless) but altogether, a great feeling of accomplishment coming out of : ikea diy.

yes, i just reassembled one of last year's trestles and made myself a...prolongement (?!?!) of my long suffering table. some of my books feel better (my flat is a meritocracy), my router catches dust from much higher(social evolution?), my diary is happy at last (because it's new, for now), my ashtray not in the way anymore.

and i feel like doing stuff ( no, not the dishes, i mean it)
and yeah, i don't only have bad days
and writing in english ( as this blog-thing-whatever is kinda messy language-wise) kind of keeps me away of any depressive draught - which, despite what some may think, is a good thing.

yeah, shit happens, what can i say.

(*getting back to the tudors --- errr jonathan rhys meyers*)

23 février 2009

Venezia, forevermore

I was in Venice last week. I was happy and calm last week.

details
light  - soft, strong, golden, revealing venitian light
colours
bridges
salty, humid air
green, algae, water - sea.
street lamps.
serenissima.







to be continued.

17 février 2009

how to do your dishes like a passive-agressive maniac.

step one : 
take all your dishes out of the sink. put them on the counter.
step two:  
take the biggest bowl/pan you have to wash, put in all cutlery, forks, spoons and such.
step three: 
continue sorting: glasses go with glasses, mugs with mugs, cups with cups, bowls with bowls, plates with plates and so on and so forth. 
/!\ for expert maniacs only: you cand create sub-categories - desert plates, big bowls, small bowls wine glasses, forks etc, it all depends on the quantity of dishes to be washed.
step four: 
start with a category. plates for example. wash them one by one; put the back into the sink as you wash each plate.
step five: 
rinse your plates.
step six: 
put them to dry on a kitchen towel you have specifically spread over the counter.
step seven: 
continue,slowly and attentively, dish-category by dish-category, until you're done.

what's the use, you may ask...: PROCRASTINATION!

now go do you dishes little snowflakes, 
time is not on your side, it is against you.
so kill it.

14 février 2009

things to write about

crisis as a state of normality. how does a state of crisis become the new normal order of one's life. how and when does this happen. can it still be called a crisis.does it end, if ever, and how.is one aware of it. does that change anything. does it have a meaning, while being normal.
crisis as a state of me.another ego-centered piece of writing trying to figure myself out. if possible. am i in crisis or is crisis in me. is there any way out. should there be a way out. does is all mean anything. should it. does it need to. do i need it to. is that good. where will/would it all lead to.can/should i overcome this.is it meant to be.
crisis as a sign of life.crisis as a painful, thus proof of being, experience.if crisis is chaos, then there is something that chaos can come upon. if chaos is what life should not be, then crisis is a negation, thus implies what is/should be. all negation is an affirmation of something else.truth lies in things that hurt. crisis hurts. 
crisis as a state of transition.pending ideas.
la crise et le cri.just how many things can one pull off from a silly game upon words.

exhibition reviews and analysis
venus in furs review.vendredi 13 fevrier 2009: apollon le devorateur.
hopes dreams and aspirations: still there?exactly that.
eloge de la souffrance pending project
schiele, bacon, l. freud, soutine. when flesh becomes meat, and it hurts.
anthropomorphic landscapes. it is all in the details.


grocery list.buy fruits(apples, cherries, oranges, grapes), milk, vegetables(tomatoes, potatoes, salad,broccoli, brussels sprouts), cheese, sour cream, bread, bread crumbs,orange juice,wine. and then let it all rot in the fridge and have some cornflakes instead.
to do list. wake up, brush you teeth, have a shower, have a coffee, do stuff, go places, sleep, sleep, sleep, think, sleep again, call your mom,complain about stuff, sleep again. lose this list and do nothing instead.

lists list.make lists of all things, categorizing everything by subject, cost, time needed, number of pages/words/characters/people involved. then make a list of all the lists, put it somewhere,somehow manage to lose it so you won't find the other lists. and start again.


9 février 2009

ok
here we go
light a cig'
turn the music on. free jazz. freeing jazz. free strange jazz. all that jazz. all is jazz. with bagbipes. odd, some might say, but then again, whatever takes the edge off.
it screams, and it cries, and it makes you feel unstable. yes, unstable, like kind of drunk-state-of-the-art unstable, tripping against chairs and getting bruises without even knowing and ignoring it. that kind.
but still happy free jazz, that gets you smiling all of a sudden, because of all of those sounds that you hadn't imagined to come out of a saxophone. happy, because it's surprising, and  if there are any real incurable diseases, curiosity is one of them [forget about the cat]. and there's no better trip for curious people, than a well diserved surprise. and bagpipe, free-jazz.

"Bagpipes are the only instrument that could scare off an electric guitar", as Van Morrison would put it.
oh, g.l.o.r.i.a.

enjoy:)

8 décembre 2008

wish I could go...

cf: Francis Bacon retrospective at the Tate Britain gallery.(c), until January 4th, 2009

Introduction

Francis Bacon is internationally acknowledged as among the most powerful painters of the twentieth century. His vision of the world was unflinching and entirely individual, encompassing images of sensuality and brutality, both immediate and timeless. When he first emerged to public recognition, in the aftermath of the Second World War, his paintings were greeted with horror. Shock has since been joined by a wide appreciation of Bacon's ability to expose humanity's frailties and drives.

This major retrospective gathers many of his most remarkable paintings and is arranged broadly chronologically. Bacon's vision of the world has had a profound impact. It is born of a direct engagement that his paintings demand of each of us, so that, as he famously claimed, the 'paint comes across directly onto the nervous system'.

As an atheist, Bacon sought to express what it was to live in a world without God or afterlife. By setting sensual abandon and physical compulsion against hopelessness and irrationality, he showed the human as simply another animal. As a response to the challenge that photography posed for painting, he developed a unique realism which could convey more about the state of existence than photography's representation of the perceived world. In an era dominated by abstract art, he amassed and drew upon a vast array of visual imagery, including art of the past, photography and film. These artistic and philosophical concerns run like a spine through the present exhibition.

Room 1: Animal

A philosophical attitude to human nature first emerges in Francis Bacon's works of the 1940s. They reflect his belief that, without God, humans are subject to the same natural urges of violence, lust and fear as any other animal. Bacon showed Figure in a Landscape and Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion (on display in Room 4) in April 1945, and exhibited consistently thereafter. The bestial depiction of the human figure was combined with specific references to recent history and especially the devastating events of the Second World War.

Bacon often drew his inspiration from reproductions, acquiring a large collection of books, catalogues and magazines. He repeatedly studied key images in order to probe beneath the surface appearance captured in photographs.

Early concerns that would persist throughout his work include the male nude, which reveals the frailty of the human figure, and the scream or cry that expresses repressed and violent anxieties. These works are among the first in which he sought to balance psychological insights with the physical identity of flesh and paint.


Room 2: Zone

In his paintings from the early 1950s, Bacon engaged in complex experiments with pictorial space. He started to depict specific details in the backgrounds of these works and created a nuanced interaction between subject and setting. Figures are boxed into cage-like structures, delineated 'space-frames' and hexagonal ground planes, confining them within a tense psychological zone. In 1952 he described this as 'opening up areas of feeling rather than merely an illustration of an object'.

Through his technique of 'shuttering' with vertical lines of paint that merge the foreground and background, Bacon held the figure and the setting together within the picture surface, with neither taking precedence in what he called 'an attempt to lift the image outside of its natural environment'.

A theme that emerged in the 1950s was the extended series of variants of Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X 1650, a work Bacon knew only from illustrations. He used this source to expose the insecurities of the powerful – represented most often in the scream of the caged figure. Through the open mouth he examined the tension between the interior of the body and the spaces of its location, which is explored more explicitly in the vulnerability of the ape-like nudes.

Study for Nude 1951© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008 , Collection of Samuel and Ronnie Heyman

Francis Bacon, Study for Nude, 1951

Room 3: Apprehension

Implicit throughout Bacon's work of the mid 1950s is a sense of dread pervading everyday life. Not only a result of Cold War anxiety, this seems to have reflected a sense of menace at a personal level emanating from Bacon's chaotic affair with Peter Lacy (who was prone to drunken violence) and the wider pressures associated with the continuing illegality of homosexuality. The Man in Blue series captures this atmosphere, concentrating on a single anonymous male figure in a dark suit sitting at a table or bar counter on a deep blue-black ground. Within their simple painted frames, these awkwardly posed figures appear pathetically isolated.

Bacon's interest in situations that combine banality with acute apprehension was also evident in other works. From figures of anxious authority, his popes took on malevolent attributes and physical distortions that were directly echoed in the paintings of animals, whose actions are also both sinister and undignified. Some of these images derived from Bacon's close scrutiny of the sequential photographs of animals and humans taken by Eadweard Muybridge, which he called 'a dictionary' of the body in motion.

Room 4: Crucifixion

Bacon made paintings related to the Crucifixion at pivotal moments in his career, which is why these key works are gathered together in this room. The paradox of an atheist choosing a subject laden with Christian significance was not lost on Bacon, but he claimed, 'as a non-believer, it was just an act of man's behaviour'.

Here the instincts of brutality and fear combine with a deep fascination with the ritual of sacrifice. Bacon had already made a very individual Crucifixion in 1933 before returning to the subject with his break-through triptych Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion in 1944. This is a key precursor to later themes and compositions, containing the bestial distortion of human figures within the triptych format. These monstrous creatures displace the traditional saints and Bacon later related them to the Eumenides – the vengeful Furies in Greek mythology.

In resuming the theme in the 1960s, especially in 1962 as the culmination of his first Tate exhibition, Bacon used references to Giovanni Cimabue's Crucifixion 1272–4, to introduce a more explicitly violent vision. Speaking after completing the third triptych in 1965 he simply stated: 'Well, of course, we are meat, we are potential carcasses.'

Room 5: Crisis

Between 1956 and 1961, Bacon travelled widely. He spent time in places marginal to the art world, in Monaco, the south of France and Africa, and particularly with Peter Lacy in the expatriate community in Tangier.

In this rather unsettled context, he explored new methods of production, shifting to thicker paint, violently applied and so strong in colour as to indicate an engagement with the light of North Africa. This was most extreme in his series based on a self-portrait of Vincent van Gogh, The Painter on the Road to Tarascon 1888, which became an emblem of the modern predicament.

Despite initial acclaim, Bacon's van Gogh works were soon criticised for their 'reckless energy' and came to be viewed as an aberration. They can now be recognised as pivotal to Bacon's further development, however, and allow glimpses into his search for new ways of working. His innovations were perhaps in response to American Abstract Expressionism, of which he was publicly critical. Although he eventually returned to a more controlled approach to painting, the introduction of chance and the new vibrancy of colour at this moment would remain throughout his career.

Room 6: Archive

The posthumous investigation of Bacon's studio confirmed the extent to which he used and manipulated photographic imagery. This practice was already known from montages recorded in the early 1950s by the critic Sam Hunter. Often united by a theme of violence, the material ranges between images of conflict, big game, athletes, film stills and works of art.

An important revelation that followed the artist's death was the discovery of lists of potential subjects and preparatory drawings, which Bacon had denied making. Throughout his life, he asserted the spontaneous nature of his work, but these materials reveal that chance was underpinned by planning.

Photography offered Bacon a dictionary of poses. Though he most frequently referred to Eadweard Muybridge's survey of human and animal locomotion, images of which he combined with the figures of Michelangelo, he remained alert to photographs of the body in a variety of positions.

A further extension of Bacon's preparatory practices can be seen in his commissioning of photographs of his circle of friends from the photographer John Deakin. The results – together with self-portraits, photo booth strips, and his own photographs – became important prompts in his shift from generic representations of the human body to portrayals of specific individuals.

Room 7: Portrait

During the 1960s, the larger part of Bacon's work shifted focus to portraits and paintings of his close friends. These works centre on two broad concerns: the portrayal of the human condition and the struggle to reinvent portraiture. Bacon drew upon the lessons of van Gogh and Velázquez, but attempted to rework their projects for a post-photographic world.

His approach was to distort appearance in order to reach a deeper truth about his subjects. To this end, Bacon's models can be seen performing different roles. In the Lying Figures series, Henrietta Moraes is naked and exposed. This unprecedented raw sexuality reinforces Bacon's understanding of the human body simply as meat.

By contrast Isabel Rawsthorne, a fellow painter, always appears in control of how she is presented. With a mixture of contempt and affection, Bacon depicted George Dyer, his lover and most frequent model, as fragile and pathetic. This is especially evident in Dyer's first appearance in Bacon's work, Three Figures in a Room, in which he represents the absurdities, indignities and pathos of human existence. Everyday objects occasionally feature in these works, hollow props for lonely individuals which reinforce the sense of isolation that Bacon associated with the human condition.

Francis Bacon, Study from Portrait of Pope Innocent X, 1965 Study from Portrait of Pope Innocent X 1965© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008 Private Collection. Courtesy Marlborough Fine Art, London

Room 8: Memorial

This room is dedicated to George Dyer who was Bacon's most important and constant companion and model from the autumn of 1963. He committed suicide on 24 October 1971, two days before the opening of Bacon's major exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris.

Influenced by loss and guilt, the painter made a number of pictures in memorial to Dyer. From this period onwards the large-scale triptych was his established means for major statements, having the advantage of simultaneously isolating and juxtaposing the participating figures, as well as guarding against narrative qualities that he strove to avoid.

But while evading narratives, Bacon drew more than ever from literary imagery; the first of the sequence, Triptych In Memory of George Dyer 1971, refers to a specific section of T.S. Eliot's poem ‘The Waste Land'.

In addition to his own memory, for Triptych – August 1972 Bacon relied on photographs taken by John Deakin of Dyer in various poses on a chair. He confined his dense and energetic application of paint to the figures in these works. The dark openings consciously evoke the abyss of mortality that would become a recurring concern in Bacon's later works.

Room 9: Epic

References to poetry and drama became a central element in Bacon's work from the second half of the 1960s. Alongside images of friends and single figures (often self-portraits), he produced a series of grand works that identified with great literature. Imbued with the inevitability and constant presence of death, the poetry of T.S. Eliot was a particular source of inspiration. The sentiments of the poet's character Sweeney could be said to echo the painter's perspective on life:

Birth, and copulation, and death.
That's all the facts when you come to
brass tacks:
Birth, and copulation, and death.

The works in this room refer to and derive from literature. Some make direct references in their titles, others depict, sometimes abstractly, a certain scene or atmosphere within the narratives themselves. Bacon repeatedly stated that none of his paintings were intended as narratives so, rather than illustrations, these works should perhaps be understood as evoking the experience of reading Eliot's poetry or Aeschylus's tragedies: their violence, threat or erotic charge. Thus, of the triptych created after reading Aeschylus, Bacon explained 'I tried to create images of the sensations that some of the episodes created inside me'.

Room 10: Late

When Bacon turned seventy in 1979, more than a decade of work lay ahead of him. Neither his legendarily hedonistic lifestyle nor his work pattern seemed to age him, but he was continually facing up to mortality through the deaths of those around him.

This unswerving confrontation, however mitigated by youthful companions such as John Edwards, became the great theme of his late style. Constantly stimulated by new source material – from photographs to poetry – he was able to adapt them to his abiding concerns with the vulnerability of flesh.

Exploring new techniques he also extended his fascination with how appropriate oil paint is for rendering the human body's sensuality and sensitivity. A certain despairing energy may also be felt in the forceful throwing of paint that dominates some of these final works: the controlled chance as a defiant gesture.

Ultimately, and appropriately, Bacon's last Triptych of 1991 returns to the key image of sexual struggle that had frequently recurred in his work. He faced death with a defiant concentration on the exquisiteness of the lived moment.

................feel..........................................................................................................................................................

....................................................free......................................................................................................................

...................................to.......................................................................................................................................

....................................................fill..in......................................................................................................................

..........................................................................the...blanks.............................................................................................

1 décembre 2008

single serving home: work in progress







I'll keep this updated with the evolution of my new one-person-customised-attic;) hihi

Chaos is upon us

I'm back.

je suis de retour après des mois entiers de silence. silence qui marque cette fois ci une volonté d'oubli absolu.si pas un oubli, un fuite. avec la fuite, la perdition. avec la fuite, la déroute.la confusion et le chaos. ma vie est un joyeux bordel. ceci n'est pas un plainte, mais un constat.
je suis furieuse, confuse, bordélique, en amortissement profond, en arrêt de pensée,tremblotante, malaisée et mal aimée de moi même.


(c)photo by Sarah Michel


j'évite toute confrontation avec tout ce qui se passe dans ma tête. je m'ignore de plus belle. je ne sais plus quel avis j'ai sur telle ou telle chose. j'ai parfois des avis de façade, circonstanciels et surtout pour pas être/faire/dire/penser comme les autres. dans une contradiction continuelle.
pourtant, mon imagination déborde. dans tout les sens. tous. j'ai bien dit, tous.
je ne crois plus en rien. ni en moi même, ni aux autres ( surtout pas aux autres), ni en Dieu ( c'est un ancienne querelle, j'en attends toujours la résolution), ni en ce que je me dis, ni en ce que je veux, ni en ce que j'aimerais. incohérence viscérale.

je suis en sursis. j'attends.

je m'occupe à râler, à m'habiller, à faire des petites listes de merde avec des choses que je veux acheter, à dormir, à éviter les sujets trop personnels. je me cache.

je n'ai plus grand-chose à dire à personne.plus d'avis. plus de projets.

je me dédie à construire ( uniquement dans ma tête) un art, une littérature, une peinture et une scénographie de la violence, des chocs successifs, du secouement constant. une déshumanisation des formes. une topographie anthropomorphe, un morcellement visuel. une fiction en 3D.brisée. noirs, cruels, charnels, aigus, douloureux. mais surtout sincères.

je cherche des slogans qui puissent me déclencher.

je suis individualiste, égoïste, narcissique: l'unique sujet de mes pseudo créations médiocres est moi-même. ou bien ma frustration de ne pas pouvoir réellement créer - donc mon regard tordu sur les œuvres des autres.

je suis incapable de voir l'ensemble. que des détails. je dessine ou j'écris, je pense - que pour prendre un certain recul. un fois écrite, la chose est en dehors de moi, exclue, chassée. je me regarde comme un personnage de roman - j'essaie de me comprendre/analyser/appréhender/saisir.

je me regarde comme un étranger. je ne me reconnais pas. c'est banal, mais je veux de la stabilité: quand je suis prête de l'atteindre, je m'ennuie. quand je me disperse, quand le changement se produit, j'ai peur, je fatigue et je veux encore mon point fixe. les extrêmes dont je suis faite ne m'ont jamais autant déchirée, autant fait mal.

je n'écoute pas. même pas ce que je dis moi même. j'entends des mots s'articuler, mais je n'en saisis plus le sens. je ne sais pas ce que je veux dire. probablement, je ne veux rien dire en fait.mais je continue de faire semblant. ou peut-être le fais-je par exercice stylistique. ou par habitude.

j'ai peur. je me fuis. j'échoue. et encore, médiocrement.

j'attends la suite.

13 juin 2008

les aventures d'un tableau au pays des tapas

sont malheureuses
chiantes
petage de plombs
perte de carte bleue
entretiens d'embauche si ca sert a quoi que ce soit
journees perdues a passer un día de observación dans un boulot qui ne me plait pas, tout ca en portant des talons de 7 cm
a se faire draguer dans le putain de metro madrileño chaqgue fois que je porte une jupe, des talon et que j'ai les cheveux laches
a se faire chier avec et par mon pere
a se faire regarder comme une statue dans un musee
a se demander pourquoi je suis la et comment je ferai para buscarme la vida
a me dire que j'ai hate de rentrer chez moi, ou que ce soit
a m'etonner que je peux etre tranquille et contente toute seule ( ben vu la situation..)
a m'acheter des chaussures pour 5, respectivement 3 euros
a aller dans des expos, et etre tranquille quand y a personne pour baratiner non stop
a me dire que ce boulot que je cherchem je le trouverai
a me dire que caq lui passera bientot, l'enthousiasme etouffant , a mon pere
a me dire que je ne serai pas obese sur la palge en aout
a me dire que j'aurai des sous et que je ne suis pas venue ici pour rien
a me dire que les partiels, ca s'est bien passe, et quem de toute facon, au pire, mon annee, je l'aurai sans rattrappages ni rien
a penser que paris, la ville ou j'ai passe la plus inconfroitable annee de ma vie, me manque, et aussi les gens que j'y ai connus

a penser que tengo que aguantarlo.