Remembrance as the revisiting of fragmented accumulated imprints

To Isolde

Saturday morning in the Montreal Central Train Station.

Beautiful sunny summer day.

Short ride to Quebec City.

As usual, you do not wear make up. No need for that, anyway. You are beautiful au naturel.

1280px-Château_Frontenac_02 — Château Frontenac, Quebec City

Check in at the Château Frontenac.

Stroll in the old city.

First time we spend so much time together.

The night falls.

The sounds of the city die down.

We are alone in the darkness.

Together.

Palpitations.

I palpiti, i palpiti sentir

(The beating, the beating of her heart I could feel)

Una Furtiva Lagrima, from Donizetti’s Opera ‘L’elisir D’amore’

Château Champlain_montreal — Château Champlain, Montreal

It is the evening screening of Kurosawa’s “Dreams” in a Montreal theater.

I feel you closer than ever.

We retreat to the Château Champlain.

The room is quite high up.

Beautiful views.

Well stocked mini bar.

We do not talk a lot.

How did you cross the Irish Sea?

Early evening screening of Peter Greenaway’s “The thief, the cook, his wife and her lover” in Montreal.

Strange movie.

It appears dark and dangerous, but deep down it is a comedy.

There is no absolution in the human condition, deep inside lurks the beast.

The beast Isolde, the beast.

Your father was a cook.

I remember that.

Summer is gone.

Winter has come.

Snow all over Montreal.

I like you with the heat, I like you with the cold.

It is early evening.

We pass by a department store, I look at the display and I see a beautiful winter coat.

I want to buy it and offer it to you.

Your outright rejection leaves me cold.

I do not insist.

I may have been misunderstood.

We retreat in your flat.

It is warm and very quiet.

In the early hours I get a cab and head back to the Queen Elizabeth.

The city is asleep and there is snow everywhere.

Your face is imprinted on the vast white surfaces all over the urban landscape.

Early in the year in London, UK.

The night before you arrived me employer threw a party for all personnel. Spent the night in the countryside South of London.

I get up early to drive to Heathrow.

You flew in on a business class upgrade and came out of the place fresh as a rose.

Sutherland 78, Pimlico, London.

My work schedule is busy.

But I am here for you.

Evening screening of Bernardo Bertolucci’s “The Sheltering Sky” in Picadilly.

We are drifting apart.

Dinner with your Spanish girlfriend.

Somewhere near Tottenham Court Road.

Flamenco music and a couple of dancers.

Heavy drinking.

The time has come for goodbye.

2013_Mass_MoCA_Anselm_Kiefer_Hall_Art_Foundation — Anselm Kiefer Étroits sont les Vaisseaux (Narrow are the Vessels), 2002 (detail) concrete, steel, lead and earth 60 x 960 x 110 inches (150 x 2500 x 280 cm) Photo: Arthur Evans Courtesy Hall Art Foundation © Anselm Kiefer

Some years later.

I find you again.

Gone is the storm.

The Irish Sea is calm.

The crossing over to Cornwall should be smooth now.

On Light and Shadow: A “Fluxus Eleatis” Discourse

“Our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and come to nought as the mist that is driven away with the beams of the sun. For our time is as a shadow that passeth away and after our end there is no returning.” Wisdom of Solomon 2.4

Participants

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, German writer

Ernst Gombrich, British-Austrian art historian

Mr. F, wanderer

Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Austrian poet

Ms. B, anthropologist (of unknown ethnicity)

Marcel Proust, French writer

Miss. T, gourmant

Junichiro Tanizaki, Japanese author

Leonardo (da Vinci), Florentine painter, artist, scientist

Martin Gayford, English, Art critic

The Discourse (Fragments)

Ernst Gombrich: “By shadow (ombra) is meant that which a body creates on itself, as for instance a sphere that has light on one part and gradually becomes half light and half dark, and that dark part is described as shadow (penumbra). Half-shadow (mezz’ombra) is called that area that is between light and the shadow through which the one passes to the other, as we have said, gradually diminishing little by little according to the roundness of the object. Cast shadow (sbattimento) is the shadow that is caused on the ground or elsewhere by the depicted object . . . .” – After Filippo Baldinucci, Vocabulario Toscana dell’Arte del Disegno, Florence 1681.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Where there is much light, the shadow is deep. A shadow is made when an object blocks light. The object must be opaque or translucent to make a shadow. A transparent object will not make any shadow, as light will pass straight through it.

Junichiro Tanizaki: Why should this propensity to seek beauty in darkness be so strong only in Orientals? The West too has known a time when there was no electricity, gas, or petroleum, and yet so far as I know the West has never been disposed to delight in shadows. Japanese ghosts have traditionally had no feet; Western ghosts have feet, but are transparent. As even this trifle suggests, pitch darkness has always occupied our fantasies, while in the West even ghosts are as clear as glass. This is true too of our household implements: we prefer colors compounded of darkness, they prefer the colors of sunlight. And of silver and copperware: we love them for the burnish and patina, which they consider unclean, unsanitary, and polish to a glittering brilliance. They paint their ceilings and walls in pale colors to drive out as many of the shadows as they can. We fill our gardens with dense paintings, they spread out a flat expanse of grass.

Mr. F: The opening aria in Handel’s opera Serse (Xerxes), sung by the man character, Xerxes I of Persia, is about the shade of a plane tree.

Ombra mai fu (Never was a shade)

Tender and beautiful fronds
of my beloved plane tree,
let Fate smile upon you.
May thunder, lightning, and storms
never bother your dear peace,
nor may you by blowing winds be profaned.
A shade there never was,
of any plant,
dearer and more lovely,
or more sweet.

Leonardo da Vinci, The Virgin and Child with St. Anne and the Young St. John the Baptist (The Burlington House cartoon)
(London, National Gallery of Art)

Leonardo (da Vinci): Shadow is the obstruction of light. Shadows appear to me to be of supreme importance in perspective, because, without them opaque and solid bodies will be ill deﬁned; that which is contained within their outlines and their boundaries themselves will be ill-understood unless they are shown against a background of a different tone from themselves. And therefore in my ﬁrst proposition concerning shadow I state that every opaque body is surrounded and its whole surface enveloped in shadow and light. . . . Besides this, shadows have in themselves various degrees of darkness, because they are caused by the absence of a variable amount of the luminous rays; and these I call Primary shadows because they are the ﬁrst, and inseparable from the object to which they belong. . . . From these primary shadows there result certain shaded rays which are diffused through the atmosphere and these vary in character according to that of the primary shadows whence they are derived. I shall therefore call these shadows Derived shadows because they are produced by other shadows . . . Again these derived shadows, where they are intercepted by various objects, produce effects as various as the places where they are cast . . . And since all round the derived shadows, where the derived shadows are intercepted, there is always a space where the light falls and by reﬂected dispersion is thrown back towards its cause, it meets the original shadow and mingles with it and modiﬁes it somewhat in its nature.

Martin Gayford: “According to ancient sources, the first artist ever to use this device (chiaroscuro: contrasting light and dark) was an Athenian named Apollodorus. It was he, according to the historian Plutarch, who ‘first invented the fading in and building up of shadow’. Apollodorus was called ‘Skiagraphos’ (‘Shadow Painter’). Before he began to model his figures, Pliny says, there was no painting ‘which holds the eye’.

Miss. T: Monsieur Proust “In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower”, the second volume of “In Search of Lost Time”, you define memory.

Marcel Proust: The greater part of our memory lies outside us, in a dampish breeze, in the musty air of a bedroom or the smell of autumn’s first fires, things through which we can retrieve … last vestige of the past, the best of it, the part which, after all our tears have dried, can make us weep again. Outside us? Inside us, more like, but stored away…. It is only because we have forgotten that we can now and then return to the person we once were, envisage things as that person did, be hurt again, because we are not ourselves anymore, but someone else, who once loved something that we no longer care about.

Mr. F: The woman without a shadow.

Hugo von Hofmannsthal: “Er wird zu Stein.”

Ms. B: If the Empress still does not cast a shadow within three days, the Emperor will be turned to stone. The following clip is from a stunning production with David Hockney’s stage designs.

Hugo von Hofmannsthal: “My earliest sketches for the libretto are based on a piece by Goethe, “The Conversation of German Emigrants” (1795). I have handled Goethe’s material freely, adding the idea of two couples, the emperor and empress who come from another realm, and the dyer and his wife who belong to the ordinary world.” (as quoted in wikipedia)

Giorgio de Chirico L’enigma di una giornata (II) ~ 1914 Museo d’arte contemporanea dell’Università di San Paolo

Ernst Gombrich: “Cubism reinstated the role of shadows both to guide and confuse the viewer. Later still the Surrealists exploited the effect of shadows to enhance the mood of mystery they sought, as in Chirico’s dreamlike visions of deserted city squares, where the harsh shadows cast by the statue and solitary figures add to the sense of disquiet.’

Martin Gayford: “Shadows can convey information, but also create illusions.”

Ryoji Ikeda, test pattern [no.5], 2013, audiovisual installation at Carriageworks. Commissioned and presented by Carriageworks and ISEA2013 in collaboration with Vivid Sydney. Image Zan Wimberley | © Carriageworks/WikiCommons

Junichiro Tanizaki: And so it has come to be that the beauty of a Japanese room depends on a variation of shadows,heavy shadows against light shadows—it has nothing else. Westerners are amazed at the simplicity of Japanese rooms, perceiving in them no more than ashen walls bereft of ornament. Their reaction is understandable, but it betrays a failure to comprehend the mystery of shadows. Out beyond the sitting room, which the rays of the sun can at best but barely reach, we extend the eaves or build on a veranda, putting the sunlight at still greater a remove. The light from the garden steals in but dimly through paper-paneled doors, and it is precisely this indirect light that makes for us the charm of a room. We do our walls in neutral colors so that the sad, fragile, dying rays can sink into absolute repose.

Junichiro Tanizaki: It has been said of Japanese food that it is a cuisine to be looked at rather than eaten. I would go further and say that it is to be meditated upon, a kind of silent music evoked by the combination of lacquerware and the light of a candle flickering in the dark. In the cuisine of any country efforts no doubt are made to have the food harmonize with the tableware and the walls; but with Japanese food, a brightly lighted room and shining tableware cut the appetite in half. The dark miso soup that we eat every morning is one dish from the dimly lit houses of the past. I was once invited to a tea ceremony where miso was served; and when I saw the muddy, claylike color, quiet in a black lacquer bowl beneath the faint light of a candle, this soup that I usually take without a second thought seemed somehow to acquire a real depth, and to become infinitely more appetizing as well. Much the same may be said of soy sauce. In the Kyoto-Osaka region a particularly thick variety of soy is served with raw fish, pickles, and greens; and how rich in shadows is the viscous sheen of the liquid, how beautifully it blends with the darkness.

Cupid dancing: from Foggia to London

Today the focus of my attention is a dancing Cupid who managed to find his way from Italy’s Foggia to London’s British Museum. The bronze sculpture dates back to 10 – 100 AD. But before we meet the dancing Cupid of Roman times, let us have a look at a picture with Cupids from the early 19th century.

albani

The picture shows the dance of eight cupids, and is made after Albani.

There is so much happening in this picture, so many forms and movements.

Comparing and contrasting this to the Roman Cupid we see that the sculpture is almost minimalist. Cupid is naked, and he carries no accessories like his famous bow – with or without arrows.

cupid1_hair

If there is an area where the unknown artist has gone overboard is the hair.

cupid2

All this Cupid features is his dance. He has no wings, and no blindfold.

The dance motion is light and simple.

right_foot

Observe the way the right foot lifts while is touches the ground.

cupid3

The boy’s nakedness is restrained, as shown by the right hand that curls behind the back.

cupid4 True to its Hellenistic inheritance, the Roman sculptor portrays Cupid as a chubby boy.

middle

Θυσιάζω αρνάκι άσπρο και παχύ, Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα

arniexothema.grtselemedes

Executive Summary

Dear non-Greek speaking readers, I am honored to have you visiting my site.

This is to let you know that this post is written in Greek only. It describes an agonizing attempt to sacrifice a white lamb to an unfulfilled love. Similar to the sorry state of the love itself and the unfortunate love stricken author, the sacrifice fails miserably.

The post is not translated because the whole story is built around cultural references that only a Greek speaking person can decode to an adequate level, and thus appreciate the level of genius that is required in order to write this post. I am a modest person by nature and thus do not want to elaborate this point further.

Εισαγωγή

Το Πάσχα ανάμεσα σε όλα τα άλλα είναι και η θυσία του αμνού. Ο αγνός και αθώος αμνός θυσιάζεται. Πληρώνει με τη ζωή του για κάποιον σκοπό κάποιων άλλων, εκτός από αυτόν.

Η θυσία σαν τελετουργία πάει χιλιετίες πίσω.

Αρχίζοντας από τον Όμηρο, διαβάζουμε στην Ιλιάδα για την εκατόμβη που προσφέρουν ο Οδυσσέας και ο Χρύσης στον Φοίβο Απόλλωνα για να ελεηθεί τους Δαναούς.

Ευκαιρία να δούμε μερικές σχετικές λέξεις στο Ομηρικό κείμενο, με τη βοήθεια του λεξικού Liddell $ Scott, ενώ οι αποδόσεις στα νέα ελληνικά είναι των Ι.Θ. Κακριδή και Ν. Καζαντζάκη.

αυερύω, αυέρυσα: έλκω το κεφάλι του θύματος προς τα πίσω, έτσι ώστε να κόψω το λαιμό του. Η απόδοση στα νέα ελληνικά είναι «αναλαιμίζω»
σφάζω, έσφαξα: σφαγιάζω τα ζώα που πρέπει να προσφερθούν ως θυσία. Η λέξη δεν έχει αλλάξει, είναι η ίδια στα νέα ελληνικά!
δέρω, έδειρα: αφαιρώ το δέρμα. Στη νέα ελληνική, η λέξη είναι γδέρνω.
σπλάγχνα: εντόσθια που φυλάσσονταν και τα έτρωγαν οι προσφέροντες την θυσία. Στη νεοελληνική έχουμε τη λέξη «σπλάχνα». Δηλαδή χάσαμε στη διαδρομή των χιλιετιών ένα «γάμμα».
οβελός, οβελοίσιν: σούβλα. Στη νεοελληνική χρησιμοποιούμε και την λέξη «οβελίας».

Ομήρου Ιλιάδα, Α’ 440 – 469 (απόδοση Ι.Θ. Κακριδής, Ν. Καζαντζάκης)

Τότε ο Οδυσσέας ό πολυκάτεχος μπρος στο βωμό τη φέρνει

και την παράδωσε στου κύρη της τα χέρια λέγοντας του:

«Χρύση, ο ρηγάρχης Αγαμέμνονας με στέλνει να σου δώσω

πίσω την κόρη, και να σφάξουμε περίσσια αρνιά στο Φοίβο,

να ελεηθεί, αν θελήσει η χάρη του, τους Δαναούς, τι αλήθεια

με πίκρες έχει πολυστέναχτες ποτίσει τους Αργίτες.»

Τούτα μιλώντας του την έδωκε, κι αυτός την κόρη εδέχτη

όλο χαρά᾿ κι εκείνοι γρήγορα τ᾿ αγιάτικα σφαχτάρια

στήσαν αράδα, στον καλόχτιστο βωμό του Φοίβου γύρω.

… (η ευχή του Χρύση)

Είπε, και την ευκή του επάκουσεν ο Απόλλωνας ο Φοίβος·

κι ως ευκηθήκαν και πασπάλισαν μετά τ᾿ αγιοκριθάρια,

αναλαιμίσαν τ᾿ αρνοκάτσικα, τα σφάξανε, τα γδάραν,

χώρισαν τα μεριά, τα τύλιξαν τρογύρα με τη σκέπη,

διπλώνοντας τη, κι από πάνω τους κομμάτια κρέας πιθώσαν.

Σε σκίζες πάνω ο γέρος τα ‘καιγε, και με κρασί φλογάτο

τα περεχούσε, και πεντόσουβλες στο πλάι του οι νιοί κρατούσαν.

Και σύντας τα μεριά αποκάηκαν και γεύτηκαν τα σπλάχνα,

λιανίσαν τ᾿ άλλα και περνώντας τα στις σούβλες να τα ψήνουν

επήραν γνοιαστικά, κι ως ψήθηκαν, τ᾿ αποτραβήξαν όλα.

Κι απ᾿ τις δουλειές αυτές σα σκόλασαν κι ετοίμασαν τις τάβλες,

έτρωγαν, κι είχαν ως εταίριαζε καθείς το μερτικό του.

και σύντας του πιοτού θαράπεψαν και του φαγιού τον πόθο…

murillo

Πάντα υπάρχει ένα άσπρο αρνάκι

Εμπνευσμένος από τους Δαναούς, αλλά και τον Άγιο Ιωάννη, που απεικονίζεται ως παις με τον αμνό, αποφάσισα να θυσιάσω κι εγώ έναν αμνό. Ο Κατακουζηνός δεν αναφέρει θυσίες, καθόσον το ποίημα είναι παιδικό. Όπως όμως όλοι γνωρίζουμε, τα αρνάκια μπορεί να πάθουνε πολλά χειρότερα από το να σπάσουν ένα ποδαράκι!

Αλέξανδρος Κατακουζηνός, «Το αρνάκι»

Αρνάκι άσπρο και παχύ

της μάνας του καμάρι

εβγήκε εις την εξοχή

και στο χλωρό χορτάρι.

Απ’ τη χαρά του την πολλή

απρόσεκτα πηδούσε

της μάνας του τη συμβουλή

καθόλου δέν ψηφούσε.

«Καθὼς παιδί μου προχωρείς

και σαν ελάφι τρέχης

να κακοπάθης ημπορείς

και πρέπει να προσέχεις».

Χαντάκι βρέθηκε βαθύ

ορμά σαν παλληκάρι

να το πηδήση προσπαθεί

και σπάει το ποδάρι!

maria-pentagiotissa

Μαρία η μοιραία γυναίκα

Ο αμνός θα θυσιασθεί στην ποδιά της Μαρίας της Πενταγιώτισσας. Μπας και σπάσει η γκίνια και ο έρωτας μου παύσει να είναι ανεκπλήρωτος.

«Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα», Δημώδες Άσμα της Φωκίδας

Στα Σάλωνα σφάζουν αρνιά, Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα

Αχ, και στο Χρυσό κριάρια, μωρή δασκαλοποόλα

Και στης Μαρίας την ποδιά, Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα

Αχ, σφάζουνται παλικάρια, παιδιά σαν τα βλαστάρια

Μαρία, πού ‘ν’ τ’ αδέρφια σου; Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα

Αχ, μωρή δασκαλοποόλα, που ‘σύ τα κάνεις ούλα

solomos

Διονύσιος ο αισιόδοξος

Το Πάσχα είναι η Άνοιξη. Και είναι ο ξανθός ο Απρίλης που βρίσκεται πίσω από την θυσία του αμνού, αυτός φταίει για όλα, που έστησε χορό με τον έρωτα και μου πήραν τα μυαλά, και θυμήθηκα την Μαρία, και μόνο με μια θυσία θα ηρεμήσω.

Τώρα που το καλοσκέφτηκα, για τη θυσία φταίει και ο Σολωμός και όλοι οι ρομαντικοί ποιητές που με έκαναν τόσο ευαίσθητο και κάθομαι και ασχολούμαι με ανεκπλήρωτους έρωτες. Όχι ότι η Μαρία η Πενταγιώτισσα δεν το αξίζει, χαλάλι της όλα, αλλά η θυσία είναι θυσία.

Όπως έχετε καταλάβει ευρίσκομαι ενώπιον διλήμματος. Να θυσιάσω ή να μη θυσιάσω;

Διονύσιος Σολωμός, «Ελεύθεροι Πολιορκημένοι»

ΣΧΕΔΙΑΣΜΑ Γ΄, Απόσπασμα 6, Ο ΠΕΙΡΑΣΜΟΣ

Έστησ’ ο Έρωτας χορό με τον ξανθόν Απρίλη,

Κι η φύσις ηύρε την καλή και τη γλυκιά της ώρα,

Και μες στη σκιά που φούντωσε και κλει δροσιές και μόσχους

Ανάκουστος κιλαϊδισμός και λιποθυμισμένος.

Νερά καθάρια και γλυκά, νερά χαριτωμένα,

Χύνονται μες την άβυσσο τη μοσχοβολισμένη,

Και παίρνουνε το μόσχο της, κι αφήνουν τη δροσιά τους,

Κι ούλα στον ήλιο δείχνοντας τα πλούτια της πηγής τους,

Τρέχουν εδώ, τρέχουν εκεί, και κάνουν σαν αηδόνια.

Έξ’ αναβρύζει κι η ζωή σ’ γη, σ’ ουρανό, σε κύμα.

Αλλά στης λίμνης το νερό, π’ ακίνητό ‘ναι κι άσπρο,

Ακίνητ’ όπου κι αν ιδής, και κάτασπρ’ ως τον πάτο,

Με μικρόν ίσκιον άγνωρον έπαιξ’ η πεταλούδα,

Που ‘χ’ ευωδίσει τς ύπνους της μέσα στον άγριο κρίνο.

Αλαφροίσκιωτε καλέ, για πες απόψε τι ‘δες;

Νύχτα γιομάτη θαύματα, νύχτα σπαρμένη μάγια!

Χωρίς ποσώς γης, ουρανός και θάλασσα να πνένε,

Ουδ’ όσο κάν’ η μέλισσα κοντά στο λουλουδάκι,

Γύρου σε κάτι ατάραχο π’ ασπρίζει μες στη λίμνη,

Μονάχο ανακατώθηκε το στρογγυλό φεγγάρι,

Κι όμορφη βγαίνει κορασιά ντυμένη με το φως του.

quartette

Μάρκος ο απαισιόδοξος

Ο Μάρκος ο Βαμβακάρης έπιασε αλλιώς το θέμα της Άνοιξης. Βαθύτατα ερωτικός τύπος, ο Βαμβακάρης μάλλον περνούσε ερωτική απογοήτευση όταν έγραψε αυτό το ποίημα και το σχετικό τραγούδι.

Είναι όμως ακριβώς αυτή η ικανότητα να κρύβεις μέσα σου το ολόκληρο το βαθύ σχίσμα που χωρίζει τον ψεύτη ντουνιά από τα ματόκλαδα που λάμπουν, που σε κάνει μεγάλο (ή μεγάλη).

Κι έτσι ο Μάρκος που εδώ τα βλέπει όλα μαύρα ξαφνικά συνέρχεται και λίγο μετά τραγουδά για τα λαμπυρίζοντα ματόκλαδα.

Το αποφάσισα. Δεν την γλυτώνει τη θυσία ο αμνός.

Μάρκος Βαμβακάρης, «Τι μ’ ωφελούν οι άνοιξες»

Τι μ’ ωφελούν οι άνοιξες, τι οι ομορφιές του κόσμου,

αφού ο κόσμος χάνεται, ψεύτη ντουνιά κι έξαφνα ο εμπρός μου,

αφού ο κόσμος χάνεται, ψεύτη ντουνιά κι έξαφνα ο εμπρός μου.

Τι και αν λιώσαν μάνα μου, απ’ τα βουνά τα χιόνια,

τι και αν θα `ρθει η άνοιξις, ψεύτη ντουνιά, αχ και κελαηδούν αηδόνια,

τι και αν θα `ρθει η άνοιξις, ψεύτη ντουνιά, αχ και κελαηδούν αηδόνια.

Όλα στο κόσμο μάταια, τα πάντα ματαιότης

κι ένα λουλούδι ψεύτικο, ψεύτη ντουνιά, είναι η ανθρωπότης,

κι ένα λουλούδι ψεύτικο, ψεύτη ντουνιά, είναι η ανθρωπότης.

arnaki-patares7

Χάλασε ο φούρνος!

Ετούτη λοιπόν την Άνοιξη, με τον ξανθό Απρίλη και τον Έρωτα, με τη Μαρία την Πενταγιώτισσα να με κολάζει με τη σκέψη της, με τις εικόνες της εκατόμβης θυσίας των Δαναών στον Φοίβο, επήρα τον λευκό αμνό και τον έβαλα στον φούρνο για τη θυσία.

Καλή ποιήτρια η Κική Δημουλά, δεν λέγω, αλλά ο φούρνος της μου τα χάλασε όλα!

Η θυσία απέτυχε!

Ο αμνός δραπέτευσε!

Η Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα θα μείνει για πάντα όνειρο!

Και για όλα αυτά φταίει η ποίηση!

Κική Δημουλά, “Πάσχα στο φούρνο “

Από τη συλλογή «Ενός λεπτού μαζί» (1998)

Βέλαζε το κατσίκι επίμονα βραχνά.

Άνοιξα το φούρνο με θυμό τι φωνάζεις είπα

σε ακούνε οι καλεσμένοι.

Ο φούρνος δεν καίει, βέλαξε

κάνε κάτι αλλιώς θα μείνει νηστική

χρονιάρα μέρα η ωμότητά σας.

Έβαλα μέσα το χέρι μου. Πράγματι.

Παγωμένο το μέτωπο τα πόδια ο σβέρκος

το χορτάρι η βοσκή τα κατσάβραχα

η σφαγή.

eggs

Ηθικό δίδαγμα

Μην ερωτευθείτε την Μαρία την Πενταγιώτισσα.

Μην διαβάζετε ρομαντικούς ποιητές.

Μην εμπιστεύεσθε τον φούρνο μιας ποιήτριας αν θέλετε να ψήσετε κάτι. Καλύτερα στον φούρνο της γειτονιάς.

Αν σκέφτεσθε να κάνετε μια θυσία, καλύτερα να θυσιάσετε τον εαυτό σας, ή ένα κομμάτι του. Ο αμνός είναι πολύ βολικός, αλλά σε τελική ανάλυση δεν φταίει τίποτε να πληρώνει τα δικά σας τα σπασμένα.

Marta Abba: Luigi Pirandello’s muse and unfulfilled love

In February 1925, the 58-year-old world-famous playwright Luigi Pirandello met Marta Abba, an unknown actress half his age, and fell in love with her.

She was to become, until his death in December 1936, not only his confidante but also his inspiring muse and artistic collaborator.

Pirandello’s love for the young actress was neither a literary infatuation nor a form of fatherly affection, but rather an unfulfilled, desperate passion that secretly consumed him during the last decade of his life.

Benito Ortolani, Editor and translator of the letters, Princeton University Press 1994.

Luigi_Pirandello_1932 — Luigi Pirandello in 1932

Pirandello more than any other playwright has been responsible for a revolution in men’s attitude to the world that is comparable to the revolution caused by Einstein’s discovery of the concept of relativity in physics: Pirandello has transformed our attitude to human personality and the whole concept of reality in human relations by showing that the personality- the character in stage terms – is not a fixed entity but an infinitely fluid, blurred and relative concept.

Martin Esslin, Reflections

hotel_de_bains — Abba (second from left) and Pirandello (third from left) at the Grand Hotel de Bains, in Lido di Venezia in 1928

Introduction

Luigi Pirandello is one of my favorite playwrights.

Some time ago I wrote an article on Mattia Pascal, an absolutely brilliant novel written by Pirandello.

Today I want to share another dimension of the man’s personality, not necessarily and directly reflected in his plays. His love for Marta Abba. This love should, of course, be taken into context. Pirandello was a complicated man, and his life reflected this more than enough. Many dimensions of this complexity have been reflected in his relationship with Marta Abba, and even shaped it.

Pirandello met Abba in Rome, in February 1925. She was 24, he was 58. He was a Sicilian gentleman, married with children, who at the time were older than Marta. His wife was seriously ill, and about to be confined to an asylum for the mentally ill.She was a young actress, embarking n her career. During the eleven years of their “relationship”, they spent relatively little time together. They both had busy lives, Abba with her acting and Pirandello with his travels around Europe and the American Continent.

The letters Pirandello wrote to Marta are the material I will use to present their relationship. As the editor and translator, Benito Ortolani, notes they had agreed to live in a “nonintimate intimacy”.

hotel_de_bains2 — Abba (right) and her sister Cele on the terrace of the Grand Hotel de Bains in Lido di Venezia in 1928

The Letters

All the quotes that follow come from the Princeton University Press 1994 edition of the letters.

The period covered by the published letters is from 1925, when Pirandello met Abba in Rome, to 1936, when he died. Only Pirandello;s letters to Marta have been published. Abba did not approve of the publication of the letters she wrote to the “Maestro”.

Dear Marta,

….But what shall I do with the money? For that matter, what should I do with my life, if I don’t have anybody to whom I can give it? To me, life is of no use. I don’t ask for any more beyond the time I need to finish the works that are left for me to write; because I feel it as an imperative obligation of my conscience, that I must write them. Without this, who knows where I would be by now – since that horrible night spent in Como….

Luigi Pirandello

The letter was written on the 20th August 1926.The reference to the ‘horrible night in Como’ is very important. Although there is no proof of the exact date, it was a night back in October 1925. We do not have any explicit description of what happened. Only in one of Pirandello’s plays, a young woman (presumably Marta) addresses an old poet (presumably Pirandello) and throws in his face the memory of a traumatic event between them. She had offered herself to him, but he declined, offering a rational explanation.

Pirandello's typewritter in his studioi in via Antonio Bosio, 15 – Rome. — Pirandello’s typewriter in his studio in via Antonio Bosio, 15 – Rome.

My Marta,

…. You say that I “do not believe in anybody”. That really is a reproach. What do you mean I don’t believe? If I did not believe, what would I be living for, so far away and living alone? I can still hold out in this life only because I believe. And your advice to stay in Rome “among people who still love me” sounded to me like a mockery! Should I concentrate on the complications of your advice, perhaps then would I recognize the terrible folly of feeling as I do and of living the way I do … or not living!….

Your disappointed Maestro

This letter was written on the 8th January 1931. Pirandello was in Paris, France, and Abba in Turin, Italy. Marta had written to Pirandello, suggesting that he moves to Rome to be with his family. His children loved him, but could not quite comprehend his infatuation with Abba, while their mother was confined in a asylum for the mentally ill. Two years later, Pirandello followed Marta’s “advice” and moved to live in Rome, where he died.

Pirandelloreads “Trovarsi” to Marta Abba, Lido di Camaiore, August 1932 (2)

My Marta,

I am writing in bed, where I have been lying since I arrived. Right on the morning of my arrival, when we were already docked in the harbor of Naples… – suddenly I felt sick: a burning pain in the chest, which took away my breath and made my legs feel weak. … You did the right thing, my Marta, in not coming to Naples…. But now I have an immense desire to see you again.If I were not in this condition, I would fly to Salsomaggiore, but I cannot…. I must stop writing, because I am too weak. I will write as soon as I can to tell you the many things that I have to communicate to you…..

Your Maestro

The letter was written on the 14th October 1935, one day after Pirandello suffered a heart attack on the day of his arrival in Naples.

Portraits of Marta Abba in Pirandello's studio, via Bosio 15, Roma — Portraits of Marta Abba in Pirandello’s studio, via Bosio 15, Roma (2)

My Marta,

…. I know that you are still in Italy. I know that in a few days, on the evening of Tuesday of next week, I will see you again in Milan; that still keeps me going. But what will happen to me on the evening of May 23rd when you leave for London? And what will happen to me in August, when you leave even Europe and depart for America?I fell as if I am slowly sinking, as if the ground is becoming soft under my feet; I do not know what to hold on to; I have no more support….

Your Maestro

This letter was written on the 16th May 1936. Pirandello was in Rome, and Abba in Milan. In May 1936 Abba signed a contract to perform in New York’s Broadway.In preparation for her New York appearances, she went to London, England.

Pirandello directs Marta Abba and Lamberto Picasso in “La nuova colonia”, 1928. (2)

My Marta

…This letter is already long, and it is time that I send it to the post office. But when will it reach you? If I think about the distance, I at once feel that I am sliding into a horrible loneliness, like into an abyss of despair. But you should not think about that! I embrace you tightly, tightly, with all, all my heart.

Your Maestro

This letter was written on the 4th December 1936, six days before Pirandello died of pneumonia. He was in Rome, and Abba was in New York City. She announced Pirandello’s death on stage at Plymouth Theater.

Cele, Marta and Pirandello on the balcony of the Grand Hotel de Bains in Lido di Venezia in 1928

Marta Abba, a leading Italian stage performer of the 1920’s and 30’s and the lifetime companion of the playwright Luigi Pirandello, died after suffering a stroke on her 88th birthday Friday in a Milan nursing home, her family announced today.

The New York Times, 26 June 1988

Sources:

Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba, Edited and translated by Benito Ortolani. Princeton University Press, Princeton New Jersey, 1994.
A Marta Abba per non morire”: il ricordo di lei

Γλωσσολογικον πονημα επι του “Σεβαστου” και των παραγωγων του

H Mάτση Χατζηλαζάρου ποζάρει προκλητικά στο φακό του Ανδρέα Εμπειρίκου

“Η Γκρέτα, καταφανώς εν μεγάλη διεγέρσει διατελούσα, χωρίς την παραμικράν προφύλαξιν, ανέσυρε εν ριπή οφθαλμού το φόρεμά της, και, αποκαλύπτουσα, προς στιγμήν, ένα θαυμάσιον και προεξέχον πολύ, εν μέσω ολίγων αραιών τριχών μουνί (δεν έφερε σκελέαν), ήνοιξε τούς μηρούς της, έθεσε την κούκλαν μεταξύ αυτών, και καλύπτουσα πάλιν το ερωτικόν της όργανον, έσφιξε τούς μηρούς της, και ήρχισε να κινήται ζωηρώς, ζωηρότατα, επί του καθίσματός της, κατά τρόπον που εφανέρωνε ότι ηυνανίζετο με πάθος, τρίβουσα μανιωδώς το αιδοίον της, επί της κεφαλής και των μαλλιών του κομψού ανθρωπομόρφου ομοιώματος, επιδιώκουσα με αφάνταστον ζέσιν να επιφέρη τοιουτοτρόπως την έκχυσιν του ερωτικού χυμού της, αδιαφορούσα τελείως, και, ίσως, τερπομένη επιπροσθέτως, από το γεγονός ότι εξετέλει την τόσον άσεμνον, άλλα και τόσον χαριτωμένην αυτήν πράξιν δημοσία.”

Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος, Μεγαλος Ανατολικος

____4122822_orig — Georgia O’Keeffe, Series I White and Blue Flower Shapes, 1919, Oil on Board, 19 7/8 x 15 3/4 inches, Gift of the Georgia O’Keeffe Foundation, ©Georgia O’Keeffe Museum

Προ της εισαγωγης

Αποτιω τιμη στην μεγαλη Αμερικανιδα ζωγραφο Τζωρτζια Ο’ Κηφ, που ζωγραφισε ανθη, και με καποιον τροπο πολλα απο τα ανθη της παραπεμπουν στο ανθος του αιδοιου.

Αυτο εξαλλου παρετηρησε και εις εκ των δυο πρωταγωνιστων τη σειρας Breaking Bad, ο νεαρος Τζεσσυ, οταν η νεαρα καλλιτεχνιζουσα φιλενας του τον επηγε να δουνε μαζι το μουσειο της Τζωρτζια Ο’ Κηφ στην πολιτεια του Νεου Μεξικου των ΗΠΑ.

Εισαγωγικες παρατηρησεις

Η διερευνηση αυτης της πραγματειας ειναι εκ των πραγματων προσδιορισμενη αλλα και περιορισμενη απο το γλωσσικο ιδιωμα.

Αυτη η παρατηρηση ομως με κανενα τροπο δεν οδηγει σε πολιτισμικη μονοσημαντοτητα.

Το αντιθετο θα ελεγα. Ακριβως η αναγνωριση του περιοριστικου παραγοντα ειναι η απαρχη της αναιρεσης του.

Ο μεγας πρωταγωνιστης της πραγματειας αυτης ειναι το “αιδοιον”.

Χαιρε, ώ χαιρε τετιμημενον!

Η διερευνηση θα στηριχθει στην γλωσσα.

Πρεπει ομως να προειδοποιησω τον αναγνωστη (και την αναγνωστρια) οτι τα πολιτιστικα δικτυα δεν αναγονται αποκλειστικα εις την γλωσσαν, αρα θα υπεισελθουν και αλλα στοιχεια πολιτισμου σχετικα με το τετιμημενον.

“Εις εν ακρότατον σημείον της ομηγύρεως, μία ομάς εκ δεκαπέντε περίπου ανδρών, παρετήρει, ουχί το αερόστατον, αλλά μίνα νεαράν ακροβάτιδα, ήτις, υπό τους ήχους ενός ντεφιού, που έσειε ένας νεώτερος αδελφός της, εξετέλει διάφορα γυμνάσματα με μεγάλην ευκαμψίαν και δεξιοτεχνίαν. Η νεάνις αυτή ήτο ευειδής και χαρίεσσα. Εις μίαν στιγμήν που περιεστρέφετο επί των χειρών, με τους πόδας της εις τον αέραν, εσχίσθη, εν αγνοία της, η περισκελίς της εις καίριο σημείον, εις τρόπον ώστε, εις ωρισμένην φάσιν της ακροβασίας, να φαίνεται το αιδοίον της ευκρινώς. Εντεύθεν η εξαίρεσις, εντεύθεν η γοητεία. Διότι, εις το γεγονός ότι διεκρίνετο το ερωτικόν της όργανον, ωφείλετο η απόσπασις της προσοχής των δεκαπέντε θεατών από το αερόστατον.”

Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος, Αργώ ή Πλους Αεροστάτου

Sarah Lucas, Chicken Knickers 2000, Saatchi Gallery.

Η προσεγγιση

Εν αρχη ην η γλωσσα.

Ο Λακάν στρέφεται στη γλωσσολογία μέσα από δύο βασικά σημεία (1):

1. Υιοθετώντας τη βασική ιδέα ότι η γλώσσα ως συμβολικό σύστημα μαζί με τα άλλα κοινωνικο-πολιτιστικά συστήματα και τις δομές τους προϋπάρχουν της γέννησης ενός ανθρώπου και υπέρ-κεινται αυτού. Κατά συνέπεια, το παιδί με την κατάκτηση της γλώσσας εγγράφεται σε αυτή τη συμβολική τάξη, η οποία επειδή ακριβώς υπέρ-κειται θα το πλάσει ανάλογα με τις δομές της. Με άλλα λόγια, το άτομο αναδύεται ως υποκείμενο μέσα από την εγγραφή του στη συμβολική τάξη της γλώσσας ή, όπως λέει ο Αλτουσέρ (1983), η κατάκτηση της γλώσσας είναι αυτή που με την εισαγωγή στη συμβολική τάξη θα σημαδέψει το πέρασμα από τον άνθρωπο-θηλαστικό στον άνθρωπο-παιδί -άνδρα ή γυναίκα.

2. Θεωρώντας ότι το “το ασυνείδητο είναι δομημένο σαν γλώσσα”, δηλαδή μια δομή που όπως και η γλώσσα αποτελείται από στοιχεία που βρίσκονται σε σχέση, και εξομοιώνοντας τους μηχανισμούς του ασυνειδήτου με τους γλωσσικούς μηχανισμούς της μεταφοράς και της μετωνυμίας.

Θα συναντησομε τον Λακαν και παρακατω, οχι ως μεγιστο ψυχαναλυτη, αλλα ως συλλεκτη εργων τεχνης.

Louise Bourgeois, "Untitled", 2002 — Louise Bourgeois, “Untitled”, 2002

Η Κυρία Λέξις, Παραλλαγες και Παραγωγα της

Οι λεξεις που θα αναλυθουν ειναι κυριως ελληνικες. Για λογους ομως που σχετιζονται με την αυθαιρεσια του συγγραφονοτς να κανει του κεφαλιου του και να μην δινει αναφορα σε κανενα, θα εμπλουτισθουν αι λεξεις αυτες, και με καποιες ξενικες.

Μουνί
Θεωρειται απο καποιους χυδαια λεξις. Το ολον θεμα του πως οριζεται η χυδαιοτης ειναι τεραστιον και δεν θα το αναπτυξω εδω.

Θα εκφρασω ομως τη διαφωνια μου με τον χαρακτηρισμο λεξεων και γλωσσικων ιδιωματων ως χυδαια.

Για την ετυμολογία της λέξης, το Λεξικο Κοινης Νεοελληνικης (3) μας διδει δυο εκδοχες.

Η πρώτη είναι από το ευνή:

(αρχαια) εὐνή `κρεβάτι, κρεβάτι του γάμου΄ – ελληνιστικο υποκοριστικο *εὐνίον

> μεσαιωνικο *βνίον (αποβολη του αρχικού άτονου φωνήεντος)

> *μνίον (για την τροπή [vn > mn] σύγκρινε ευνούχος > μουνούχος, ελαύνω > λάμνω)

> *μουνίον (ανάπτ. [u] ανάμεσα σε αρχικό [m] και ακόλουθο σύμφωνο, σύγκρινε *μνούχος > μουνούχος) > (μεσαιωνικο) μουνίν

POLIDORI Gian Carlo(1943-), Italy: Οδαλίσκη και Ευνούχος στο χαρέμι (5)

Και η δεύτερη από τη λέξη μνούς:

(αρχαια) μνοῦς `μαλακό πούπουλο, χνουδάκι΄ ελληνιστικο υποκοριστικο *μνίον

> (μεσαιωνικο) *μουνίον (όπως στην προηγ. υπόθεση) > (μεσαιωνικο) μουνίν

Η παραλλαγμενη εννοια

Η λεξη μουνι χρησιμοποιειται και με απαξιωτικη διασταση, οτι καποιος δηλαδη αρσενικος ή θηλυκος, ειναι σκαρτος.

Παρομοιως, απαξιωτικη ειναι και η εκφραση “τα καναμε μουνι”, ή η παρεμφερης “τα καναμε μουνακι”.

Η χρηση του υποκοριστικου υποδηλωνει μια μικρου ή μεσαιου μεγεθους αστοχια, ενω η χρηση της πληρους λεξεως κατι σημαντικο.

Εδω παραβαλλω και την παραλληλη απαξιωτικη εκφραση “πουτσες μπλε”.

Αποδεικνυεται περιτρανως λοιπον οτι η γλωσσα δεν γνωριζει συνορα φυλλου.

Απαξιωση ενθεν και ενθεν.

L'Origine du Monde de Gustave Courbet — L’Origine du Monde de Gustave Courbet

Παρενθεση: Η Αρχη του Κοσμου του Γκουσταβ Κουρμπε (The Origin of the World by Gustave Courbet)

Δεν μπορω παρα να παραθεσω παραυτα το μεγαλειωδες εργο του Γκουσταβ Κουρμπε, την Απαρχη του Κοσμου.

Το εργο παρηγγειλε ο Τουρκος διπλωματης και συλλεκτης Χαλιλ Μπεη το 1866.

Αμεσως μετα την ολοκληρωση του, το εργο εξαφανιστηκε απο την δημοσια θεα.

Ο συλλεκτης το τοποθετησε στο λουτρο του, και εβαλε και μια κουρτινα μπροστα, ωστε να το κρυβει σε ορισμενες περιπτωσεις.

Μετα την χρεωκοπια του Χαλιλ Μπεη ο πινακας κατεληξε στη Βουδαπεστη, οπου και αλλαξε πολλα χερια.

Κατεληξε στη συλλογη του Ζακ Λακαν στη δεκαετια του 1950, που ηταν και ο τελευταιος ιδιωτης που το ειχε στη συλλογη του.

Σημερα το απολαμβανουν οι επισκεπτες του Μουσειου Ορσαι στο Παρισι.

Αιδοιον

Προερχεται απο το ρημα αιδεομαι, που σημαινει σεβομαι, ευλαβουμαι.

Αποτελει το ουδετερον του “Αιδοιος”, που σημαινει Σεβαστος.

Αιδοιον λοιπον σημαινει “Σεβαστον”.

Renato Guttuso, untitled figure study, 1982. Lithograph, Gardiner Permanent Art Collection.

Con

Γαλλικη λεξις, που μπορει να μεταφρασθει και σαν “μουνακι” και σαν “μαλακας”.

Σε απταιστα Γαλλικα, στο παρον πονημα « con » désignant trivialement la vulve.

412PX-~1 — Achille Deveria, French Painter

Μουνακι

“Η Ειρηνη ειναι σνα μια αψιδα πανω απο την θαλασσα. .. Αχ, αχ. Η Ειρηνη καλει τον εραστη της. Τον εραστη της που καυλωνει απο μακρυα. Αχ, αχ, Η Ειρηνη αγωνια και σπαρταρα. Εκεινος ορθωνεται καυλωμενος σαν θεος πανω απο την αβυσσο. Αυτη κουνιεται, εκεινος την αποφευγει, αυτη κουνιεται και του δινεται. Αχ. Η οαση υποκλινεται με τις πανυψηλες τις χουρμαδιες της. Ταξιδιωτες, οι πανωφορες σας στροβιλιζονται μεσ’ τη λεπτη την αμμο. Απ’ το λαχανιασμα η Ειρηνη κοντευει να διαλυθει. Εκεινος την κοιταζει. Το μουνι εχει μουσκεψει καρτερωντας τ’ ολοζωντανο παλουκι. Στ’ απατηλα βουνα της αμμου, μια σκια ζαρκαδιου. Κολαση ας αρχισουν οι καταραμενοι σου να μαλακιζονται, η Ειρηνη εχυσε.”

Λουις Αραγκον, “Το μουνακι της Ειρηνης”. Μεταφραση Ανδρεας Νεοφυτιδης. Εκδοσεις Γαβριηλιδη, Αθηνα 1989.

Μουνάρα

Λεξη επιτιμητικη. Χιλαδες, εκατονταδες χιλιαδες, εκατομμυρια Ελληνων και Ελληνοφωνων εχουν κραυγασει καποια στιγμη του βιου τους “Μουναρα μου!”.

Τι εννοουσαν αραγε;

Εντελως υποθετικα, θα ελεγα οτι η λεξη αρχικα αναφερεται στο υπερτατο θηλυκο.

Η φαινομενικη απλοηκοτης της λεξεως δεν αφαιρει την διασταση του υπερτατου, αντιθετως την κανει πιο εντονη.

Μιλαμε λοιπον για το υπερτατο θηλυκο, και τουτο με την διασταση την σεξουαλικη.

Δεν θα ακουσετε καποιον να λεει “αγαπω μια μουναρα”. Καποιο αλλο ρημα θα χρησιμοποιησει.

Εδω λοιπον, η λεξη μας διδει το εδαφος δια να θυμηθουμε αυτο που εγραψε ο μεγας Λακαν: ” Η αγαπη ερχεται να αναπληρωσει την ανυπαρξια ερωτικης σχεσης.”

Η “μουναρα” ειναι βαθεια βυθισμενη και σφραγισμενη απο το ερωτικο και μονο το ερωτικο στοιχειο.

Οι αγαπες και οι μαργαριτες ειναι αλλου.

Γλυκομούνα

“Διαβάζοντας το βιβλίο Τα αδιάντροπα -Λεσβιακά Λαογραφικά του Βαγγέλη Καραγιάννη με πρόλογο του Μ.Γ.Μερακλή (Φιλιππότης) Αθήνα 1983, είδα να αναφέρει στην φράση : Είνι γλυκουμούνα μια τοπική συνήθεια που δεν την είχα ξαναδιαβάσει. Γράφει ακριβώς :

Φράση που λέγεται για γυναίκες που έχουν επιτυχίες στους άνδρες, έστω και αν δεν είναι πολύ όμορφες.

Τον παλιό καιρό, στα χωριά της Λέσβου, ρίχνουν στο αιδοίο του πολύ μικρού κοριτσιού λίγη ζάχαρη, “για να γλυκάν΄” κι όταν θα γίνει κοπέλα πια να την λαχταρούν και να την ζητούν σε γάμο οι γαμπροί.

Απ΄εκεί και η φράση “γλυκουμούνα” (4)”

Tracey Emin Ruined (2007) acrylic, oil pastel and pencil on canvas, 72 5/8 x 72 5/8 x 2 1/2, Photograph by Stephen White. Courtesy of White Cube. © the artist — Tracey Emin Ruined (2007) acrylic, oil pastel and pencil on canvas, 72 5/8 x 72 5/8 x 2 1/2, Photograph by Stephen White. Courtesy of White Cube.
© the artist

Παληόμουνο

Βλεπε σχετικα λεξεις οπως “παληοχαρακτηρας”, “παληοκοριτσο”.

Δια της λεξεως προβαλλει αυτος που την χρησιμοποιει την ιδιοτητα του κακου χαρακτηρα εις την γυναικα.

Μπορει να ειναι μια αστατη γυναικα, μπορει να ειναι μια γυναικα που δεν τιθασευεται, δεν ελεγχεται, δεν υποτασσεται.

Εδω δεν υπαρχει αντικειμενικη διασταση.

Ο χαρακτηριζων αυθαιρετει και χρησιμοποιει την λεξη ασυστολως.

Μπορει λοιπον η ουτως χαρακτηριζομένη γυνη απλα “να μην καθεται” στον χαρακτηριζοντα, να μην ανταποκρινεται θετικα εις τα ερωτικα του κελευσματα.

Καριολομουνο

Φαρμακομούνα

Εδω το “φαρμακο” εχει την ιδιοτητα του δηλητηριου, και οχι της θεραπευτικης δρασης.

(Βλεπε σχετικα την λεξη “ποντικοφαρμακο”. Δεν θεραπευει τους ποντικους, αλλα τους θανατωνει, ειναι δηλητηριον, και δη ισχυρωτατον.)

Και ειναι ενδιαφερον να παρατηρησομε ποσον κοντα αλλα και μακρυα ειναι οι λεξεις φαρμακο και φαρμακι στην ελληνικη γλωσσα.

Κατι που δεν συμβαινει σε αλλες γλωσσες, παραδειγμα στην αγγλικη, οπου εχομε medicine vs. poison. Παντελως διαφορετικη ριζα.

Η διαθετουσα το σχετικον οπλον (η πηγη του φαρμακου ειναι το αιδιοιον) “φαρμακωνει” τον ερωτικον της συντροφον, ή τον συζυγον της.

Κατι κακο θα του συμβει, ισως και ο θανατος.

Παραπεμπει λοιπον στην “μαυρη αραχνη”, που μετα την ερωτικη πραξη, και εκ της συνεπειας της, θανατωνει τον ερωτικον της συντροφον.

Εν προκειμενω η λεξις δεν αναφερεται υποχρεωτικα σε υπαρκτη ιδιοτητα.

Μπορει να εκφραζει και τον φοβο του ερωτικου συντροφου, οτι η ερωτικη συνανστροφη με την φερουσα το φαρμακοφορον αιδοιον θα τον θανατωσει, ή θα τον βλαψει.

Αρα η γλωσσα εκφραζει το ονειρο, τον εφιαλτη, τον φοβο, οποτε οπως θα ελεγε και ο Δοκτωρ Φροϋντ την υποβοσκουσα επιθυμια.

Ο φαρμακοφορος και απειλητικος ερως αντικειμενοποιειται εις τον φαρμακοφορον αιδιοιον.

Ιδου λοιπον και μια εισετι λειτουργια – και δη θεραπευτικη – της γλωσσας.

Δια της εκφρασεως την φοβων και των επιθυμιων εν τροπω αντικειμενοποιησεως, εκβαλλομεν το κακον, το βλαβερον, και του αποδιδομεν υλικη συγκεκριμενη υποσταση.

Παυει λοιπον ο φοβος του θανατου να ειναι μια αφαιρεση, και συγκεκριμενοποιειται ως το Αιδοιον της γυναικος Χ.

Απο το αλμπουμ "Φωτοφρακτης"του Ανδρεα Εμπειρικου — Απο το αλμπουμ “Φωτοφρακτης”του Ανδρεα Εμπειρικου

Οδοντωτον Αιδοιον (Μουνι με δοντια)

Αποδοσις του εις την λατινικην ορου Vagina Dentata – ενω εις την αγγλικην αναφερεται ως Toothed Vagina.

Αναφερεται εις την μυθικης προελευσεως γυναικα ητις φερει οδοντας εις το αιδοιον της, και ως εκ τουτου δυναται να ακρωτηριασει το πεος του ερωτικου της συντροφου εν τη εκτελεσει της γενετησιας πραξεως.

Βεβαιως υπαρχει και η επιστημονικη αποψη οτι το πεος ειναι αναλωσιμο, ως μια πρωτη υλη. Καθε φορα λοιπον που το πεος διεισδυει εις το αιδοιον, αναλωνεται.

Το οδοντωτον αιδοιον αποτελει και εφιαλτη δια τον ανδρα που ονειρευεται τον ακρωτηριασμο του εν τη τελεση της ερωτικης πραξεως.

Εν τη εννοια τουτη, το οδοντωτον αιδοιον αποτελει μεγαλυτεραν απειλην συγκρινομενη με την φαρμοκομουναν.

Καλυτερα ο ακαριαιος θανατος απο τον ατιμωτικον ακρωτηριασμον.

Κλαψομουνα

Λεξις ητις υπαρχει και εις το αρσενικον, ως “κλαψομούνης”.

Υποδηλωνει καποιαν η οποια το ριχνει στο κλαμα, ή την κλαψουρα με το παραμικρο, υπερβαλλει, τρεχουν τα δακρυα ποταμι, και ολα αυτα χωρις λογο. Οποτε και δεν την παιρνει κανεις στα σοβαρα, ενω αποτελει και ενοχλησιν μεγαλην, με αποτελεσμα να την αποφευγουσιν οι παντες.

Υπαρχει βεβαιως και η γνωστη ταση του ανδρικου φυλου να υποτιμα τον συναισθηματισμο της γυναικας και να επιχειρει να τον απορριπτει ως κλαμμα ανευ λογου. Προσοχη λοιπον, η γλωσσα εν προκειμενω επιβεβαιωνει δια μιαν εισετι φοραν την αμφισημιαν ητις ενεδρευει.

achille_devc3a9ria_les_petits_jeux_innocens — Achille Deveria: Small and innocent games

Γλειφομούνι

Η πλεον αξιοπρεπης λεξις ειναι η “Αιδοιολειχια”.

Αποτελει πραξιν ητις αποδιδει εις τον πραγματοποιουντα εμπειριαν μοναδικην, καθοσον ενεργοποιουντια οι γευστικοι αδενες και σχεδον ολοκληρη η στοματικη κοιλοτης. Ταυτοχζρονως πραγματοποιουνται και ποικιλοτροπες προσμιξεις υγρων πολλαπλων προελευσεων και πηγων, συνοδευομενες απο οσμες και μυρωδιες μονον δια τους πραγματικους ρεκτες.

Ψευτομούνι. Είδος γλειφομουνίου, με τη διαφορά ότι ο τύπος προσποιείται ότι χρησιμοποιεί γλώσσα, ενώ στην ουσία χρησιμοποιεί δάχτυλο (πιθανόν λόγω σιχαμάρας). Απαραίτητη προϋπόθεση για ένα επιτυχημένο ψευτομούνι είναι η μίμηση του ήχου του γλειψίματος, (6)

Μουνόσκυλο αποκαλειται ο εχων σχεδον εθισμον εις την αιδοιολειχιαν, προσομοιαζομενος ουτω με τους συμπαθεις κυνες οιτινες οπου βρεθουν και οπου σταθουν γλειφονται και γλειφουν.

Παρομοιες στην εννοια ειναι και οι λεξεις Μουνοδουλος και Μουνακιας, παρολον οτι αμφοτερες εχουσιν και μεταφορικην εννοιαν ήτις αφορα την εξιν των ανθρωπων αυτων προς το σεβαστον.

Πλακομουνι

Πραξις ομοφυλοφιλικου ερωτος.

Το σχετικο ρημα αποδιδεται ως “πλακομουνιαζομαι”.

Το δε ουσιαστικον ειναι “πλακομουνού”.

“Οι στασεις ειχαν αλλαξει. Οι τριβαδες μου ειχαν εισχωρησει η μια στην αλλη, αγκαλιαζονταν ασφυκτικα ωστε να εφαπτεται το δριμυ και πυκνο τριχωμα τους, να τριβονται τα μελη τους. Εφορμουσαν, ενωνονταν και απωθουνταν, με το ρυθμο, την επιμονη και τη δυναμη που προμηνυει στις γυναικες το επερχομενο απογειο της ηδονης.”

Alfred de Musset “Γκαμιανί, ή Δυο νυχτες παραφορας”. Μεταφραση Ανδρεα Στάϊκου. Εκδοσεις Άγρα, 2002.

Louise Bourgeois, "Janus Fleuri", 1968 — Louise Bourgeois, “Janus Fleuri”, 1968

Παραπομπες

(1) Μαρια Θεοδωροπούλου, Μ. Saussure και Lacan : Απο τη γλωσσολογία στην ψυχανάλυση.

(2) slang.gr

(3) Λεξικο Κοινης Νεοελληνικης

(4) Αθεοφοβος2

(5) L’ Enfant de la Haute Mer

(6) Slang

Naked heart forever – unprotected, exposed, defenceless

Edvard Munch, Madonna, Hamburg, Oil on canvas

The Poet asks his Love to write

Visceral love, living death,

in vain, I wait your written word,

and consider, with the flower that withers,

I wish to lose you, if I have to live without self.

The air is undying: the inert rock

neither knows shadow, nor evades it.

And the heart, inside, has no use

for the honeyed frost the moon pours.

But I endured you: ripped open my veins,

a tiger, a dove, over your waist,

in a duel of teeth and lilies.

So fill my madness with speech,

or let me live in my calm

night of the soul, darkened for ever.

— Federico Garcia Lorca

‘Du bist mein und bist so zierlich,’

You’re mine and so dainty,

You’re mine and so mannerly,

Yet still though you lack something:

You kiss now with such pointed lips,

Like a dove, when drinking it sips:

You’re really too dainty a thing.

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Edvard Munch, Madonna, Wurth Foundation, Lithograph

O so dear

O so dear from far and near and white all

So deliciously you, Méry, that I dream

Of what impossibly flows, of some rare balm

Over some flower-vase of darkened crystal.

Do you know it, yes! For me, for years, here,

Forever, your dazzling smile prolongs

The one rose with its perfect summer gone

Into times past, yet then on into the future.

My heart that sometimes at night tries to confer,

Or name you most tender with whatever last word

Rejoices in that which whispers none but sister –

Were it not, such short tresses so great a treasure,

That you teach me a sweetness, quite other,

Soft through the kiss murmured only in your hair.

— Stephane Mallarme

Edward Munch - Death and the Maiden — Edward Munch – Death and the Maiden

Another Day

Another day. I follow another path,
Enter the leafing woodland, visit the spring
Or the rocks where the roses bloom
Or search from a look-out, but nowhereLove are you to be seen in the light of day
And down the wind go the words of our once so
Beneficent conversation…

Your beloved face has gone beyond my sight,
The music of your life is dying away
Beyond my hearing and all the songs
That worked a miracle of peace once on

My heart, where are they now? It was long ago,
So long and the youth I was has aged nor is
Even the earth that smiled at me then
The same. Farewell. Live with that word always.

For the soul goes from me to return to you
Day after day and my eyes shed tears that they
Cannot look over to where you are
And see you clearly ever again.

— Friedrich Hoelderlin

When eros makes life impossible: A “Fluxus Eleatis” discourse

In the surging swell,
In the ringing sound,
In the world-breath
In the waves of the All
To drown,
To sink, to drown –
Unconscious –
Supreme bliss –

Tristan and Isolde: Act III, Scene III

MM: Mathilde A jumps in the torrent created by the rain. Her body is recovered a few hours later.

Mrs. T: Mathilde B shoots Bernard first, and then she shoots herself. Both are dead instantly.

Mr. FFF: Diane runs screaming to her bed and she shoots herself.

von Grimmelshausen: Werther new that one of the three of them, Albert, Lotte and Werther himself, would have to die. He could not kill anyone but himself.

Mathilde A: (reads her suicide note) I am going before your desire dies. Then we’d be left with affection alone, and I know that won’t be enough. I’m going before I grow unhappy. I go bearing the taste of our embraces, your smell, your look, your kisses. I go with the memory of my loveliest years, the ones you gave me. I kiss you now so tenderly, I die of it.

Mathilde B: I needed to talk to him (Bernard). This is all I was thinking about when I was in the hospital (recovering from a nervous breakdown). But when the time came for me to go, and I put on my raincoat, without plan, withour hesitation, I got the handgun that Philippe (my husband) ket in his study and put it in my pocket. I kissed hm passionately. We rolled on the floor. And when he was on top of me, and when the last intercourse was over, I pulled the gun and I shot him. He did not even realize what was happening. I then turned the gun to my left temple and pulled the trigger. It was over in less than thirty seconds.

Diane: When I saw the blue key on my coffee table I knew that the deed was done. Camilla was no longer in this world. It had to be this way. She betrayed me. She was going to marry Adam. She was also fucking about. She was no good. She had to go. But I had to go as well.

Werther: And so it is the last time, the last time that I open these eyes…Lotte, it is a feeling unlike any other, and still it seems like an undetermined dream for one to say to himself: this is the last morning. … Lotte, I have no idea about the meaning of the word: the last! To die! what does it mean? I have seen many people dying; but humanity is so limited that it has no felling for the beginning and the end of its existence. .. All these are perishable, but there is no eternity that can erase the warmth of life that I tasted yesterday in your lips and I now feel inside me! She loves me! These arms have held her, these lips have touched hers trembling, this mouth has whispered something to hers. She is mine! You are mine! Yes, Lotte, for ever.

Mrs. T: Who is this von Grimmelshausen?

Mr. FFF:He is a German scholar from the Black Forest.

MM: How come he is here with us?

Mr. FFF: He is traveller. He goes to places. He meets people. That’s how.

Mrs. T: Have you seen what is inside the brown leather bag he is carrying with im like a treasure?

Mr. FFF: I recall you back to order!

Mrs. T: Ok, I was just curious.

Madame Guyon: The noonday of glory; a day no longer followed by night; a life that no longer fears death, even in death itself, because death has overcome death, and because whoever has suffered the first death will no longer feel the second.

Matthias Claudius: Man’s way of thinking can pass over from a point of the periphery to the opposite point, and back again to the previous point, if circumstances trace out for him the curved path to it. And these changes are not really anything great and interesting in man. But that remarkable, catholic, transcendental change, when the whole circle is irreparably torn up and all the laws of psychology become vain and empty, where the coat of skins is taken off, or at any rate turned inside out, and man’s eyes are opened, is such that everyone who is conscious to some extent of the breath in his nostrils, forsakes mother and father, if he can hear and experience something certain about it.

Horace: How is it that no one is satisfied with his own condition?

Filippo Ottonieri: The reason is that no condition is happy. The servvants, as well as the princes, the poor as well as the rich, the weak as well as the powerful would all be extremely well satisfied with their lot and would feel no envy for the others were they happy; for men are no more impossible to satisfy than any other species; but they can be content with happiness only. Now, as they are always unhappy, should we wonder if they are never satisfied?

Julia Kristeva: To be sure, analytic discourse does not, or at any rate does not always suffer from the apparent excesses of amorous language, which range from hypnotic fascination with the presumed ideal qualities of the partner to hysterical sentimental effusion to phobias of abandonment. Nevertheless, it is want of love that sends the subject into analysis, which proceeds by first restoring confidence in, and capacity for, love through the transference and then enabling the subject to distance himself or herself from the analyst. From being the subject of an amorous discourse during the years of my analysis (and, in the best of circumstances, beyond them), I discover my potential for psychic renewal, intellectual innovation, and even physical change. This kind of experience seems to be the specific contribution of our modern civilization to the history of amorous discourse. The analytic situation is the only place explicitly provided for in the social contract in which we are allowed to talk about the wounds we have suffered and to search for possible new identities and new ways of talking about ourselves.

Arthur Schopenhauer: Selfishness is “eros” (in Greek ερως), sympathy or compassion is “love” (in Greek αγαπη).

Friedrich Nietzsche: The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets through many a dark night.

Christiane Olivier: Is love, then, an impossibility? The couple is the fantasy of finding again, at last, a mother whom one has never yet met: for the woman, desiring; for the man, not stifling. It is the dream so well imagined by Verlaine: “I often have this strange, affecting dream of an unknown woman, who loves me and whom I love, and who each time is neither quite the same, nor quite other.”

MM: Eros and Thanatos.

Mrs. T: Libido and Mortido.

Mr. FFF: Life instinct and death instinct.

MM: We are back in the field of the philosophy of the opposites!

Mrs. T: But are we? It appears to me that somehow Eros leads the actor to Thanatos! I see no opposites here, I see two complementary instincts.

Mr. FFF: I wish it were as simple as that. In my view Eros not only leads to Thanatos in the cases under consideration, it seems to me that Eros appeals to Thanatos to seal its eternal meaning. As if Eros does not attain its ultimate state unless it reaches Thanatos.

Jacinta: I was sixteen when, one night while I was sleeping, I had a dream. (Woe is me! And even when I was awake I relieved that dream.) I was going through a lovely forest and in the very depths of the forest, I met the most handsome man I had ever in my life seen. His face was shadowed by the edge of a fawn cape with silver hooks and catches. Attracted by his appearance, I stopped to gaze at him. Eager to see if his face looked as I imagined, I approached and boldly pulled aside his cape. The moment I did, he drew a dagger and plunged it into my heart so violently that the pain made me cry out, and all my maids came running in. As soon as I awoke from this dark dream, I lost sight of the fact that he had done me such injury, and I felt more deeply affected than you can imagine. His image remained etched in my memory. It did not fade away or disappear for ever so long. Noble Fabio, I yearned to find a man with exactly his appearance and bearing to be my husband. These thoughts so obsessed me that I kept imagining and reimagining that scene, and I would have conversations with him. Before you knew it, I was madly in love with a mystery man whom I didn’t know, but you must believe that if the god Narcissus was dark, then surely he was Narcissus.

Arthur Schopenhauer: They tell us that suicide is the greatest act of cowardice… that suicide is wrong; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person.

Herodotus: When life is so burdensome, death has become for man a sought-after refuge.

ΜΜ: Freud claimed the death instinct drives people to death so that they can have real peace, and only death can get rid of tension and struggles. This is the case of Werther.

Mrs. T: When people feel extreme joy, they want to die and hope time will stop at that moment, which is also the evidence of death instinct, the transformation of life instinct into death instinct. This is the case of Mathilde A.

Mr. FFF: The death instinct exists in almost everyone’s subconscious. It is an irresistible instinctive power in human beings’ consciousness. Many people may deny that there is a death instinct in their consciousness. Indeed, people’s life instinct is very strong. However, if they examine their flashes of idea in their consciousness, they can find that just like death instinct, their desire for death is sometimes also very strong.

Jacinta: Because of this obsession I could neither eat nor sleep. My face lost its color and I experienced the most profound melancholy of my life. Everyone noticed the changes in me. Who, Fabio, ever heard of anyone loving a mere shadow? They may tell tales about people who’ve loved monsters and other incredible things, but at least what they loved had form! I sympathized with Pygmalion who loved the statue that ultimately Jupiter brought to life for him, and with the youth from Athens, and with the lovers who loved a tree or a dolphin. But what I loved was a mere fantasy, a shadow. What would people think of that? Nobody would believe me and, if they did, they’d think I’d lost my mind. But I give you my word of honor as a noblewoman, that not in this or in anything else I’ll tell you, do I add a single word that isn’t the truth. You can imagine that I talked to myself. I reproved myself, and, to free myself from my obsessive passion, I looked very carefully at all the elegant young men who lived in my city and tried to grow fond of one of them. Everything I did simply made me love my phantom more, and nowhere could I find his equal. My love grew and grew so great that I even composed poetry to my beloved ghost.

Julia Kristeva: Loss of the erotic object (unfaithfulness or desertion by the lover or husband, divorce, etc) is felt by the woman as an assault on her genitality and, from that point of view, amounts to castration. At once, such a castration starts resonating with the threat of destruction of the body’s integrity, the body image, and the entire psychic system as well. As a result, feminine castration, rather than being diseroticized, is concealed by narcissistic anguish, which masters and protects eroticism as a shameful secret.

MM: I love you so much I want to kill myself.

Mrs. T: I love you so much I want to kill you.

Mr. FFF: I love you so much I want to kill myself, but I will kill you first, before you kill me.

Albert Camus: There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories comes afterwards. These are games; one must first answer [the questions of suicide].

Arthur Schopenhauer: To those in whom the will has turned and denied itself, this very real world of ours, with its suns and galaxies, is – nothing.

MM: Driven to suicide by eros is one thing, killing your lover and then killing yourself is another.

Mrs. T: It may not be premedidated, but evolutionary. You start by wanting to exterminate the cause of your living hell, your lover, and you do. And then, after you have done it, you figure out that the road has now opened for your own departure from this world as well.

Mr. FFF: This theory may apply to both Diane and Mathilde B. I would like to note though, that Time could be the differentiator. In Mathilde B’s case, she kills herself imeediately after she has killed Bernard. Whereas Diane kills herself after she realizes that the “contract” on Camille’s life has been successfully executed.

Participants

Albert Camus, French philosopher

Matthias Claudius, German poet

Diane Selwyn, protagonist in David Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive”

von Grimmelshausen, a German nobleman and writer

Madame Guyon, French mystic

Mr. FFF, wanderer

Herodotus, Greek historian

Horace, Roman poet

Jacinta, character in Maria de Zayas’ “The enchantements of love”

Julia Kristeva, French-Bulgarian psychoanalyst

Mathilde A, the hairdresser in Patrice Leconte’s “The Hairdresser’s Husband”

Mathilde B, the woman next door, in Francois Truffaut’s “The Woman next Door”

MM, partner

Friedrich Nietzsche, German philosopher

Christiane Olivier, French psychoanalyst

Filippo Ottonieri, a very thin disguise for Giacomo Leopardi himself

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher

Mrs. T, unknown ethinicity, gourmant

Werther, a fictional character created by Goethe

The Sea: A “Fluxus Eleatis” discourse

Archilochus: Look Glaucus! Already waves are disturbing the deep sea and a cloud stands straight round about the heights of Gyrae, a sign of storm; from the unexpected comes fear.

Julia Kristeva: We are no doubt permanent subjects of a language that holds us in its power. But we are subjects in process, ceaselessly losing our identity, destabilized by fluctuations in our relations to the other, to whom we nevertheless remain bound by a kind of homeostasis.

W.B. Yeats: What can be explained is not poetry.

First Steward: Good evening Mrs. T, Mr. FFF, welcome on board! Your cabin is ready. Is there something we can do for you before we show you to your cabin?

Mrs. T: Good evening Mr. Gerassimidis! It is always nice to see you!

Mr. FFF: Good evening to you too! It is good to see you again! Are we on time?

First Steward: We are on time, and we are going to have calm seas.

Mr. FFF: What time is dinner served?

First Steward: We start at 8pm sharp. Shall I book a table for you?

Mr. FFF: Yes, please. Now you can show us to our cabin.

Mrs. T: How long is the journey?

Mr. FFF: Approximately 18 hours. Assuming the sea is calm. It could be 14 hours, but with all the interim ports of call the time increases significantly.

Mrs. T: Are we going to see the dolphins?

Mr. FFF: Only if we are lucky. But if we do, it is a spectacular ballet show. And the music of the sea with the humming of the ship’s engines in the background brings the experience to supernatural levels.

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Θυμαμαι την πρωτη μου αναχωρηση μ’ ενα μεγαλο ποσταλε. Τη στιγμη εκεινη που πραγματοποιουσα το λαμπροτερον ονειρο μου, ημουν γιοματος αμφιβολια και φοβο.

(Unnamed Mariner: I remember my first sailing on a big postale. The moment I was realizing my brightest dream, I was full of doudt and fear.)

Alvaro Mutis: This is how we forget: our affairs, no matter how close to us, are made strange through the mimetic, deceptive, constant working of a precarious present. When one of these images returns with all its voracious determination to survive intact, then what learned men call epiphany occurs: an experience that can be either devastating or a simple confirmation of certain truths that allow us to go on living.

Maqroll “el Gaviero”: I think I’ve exaggerated the true signiﬁcance of the death of the Duc of Orléans. . . . There’s a monotony in crime, and it’s not advisable to have too much to do with it in books or in life.

Jon Iturri: For three consecutive days we stayed in Hotel Lisboa without exiting the room, which we had transformed into a kind of our own universe, where incidents of eroticism were coming one after another, with the only words given to describing our childhood years and how we discovered the world.

Alvaro Mutis: Because, of course, in a place like that, one experiences situations which are extreme and absolute. In there the density of human relations is absolute. And there is one thing you learn in prison, and I passed it on to Maqroll, and that is that you don’t judge, you don’t say, that guy committed a terrible crime against his family, so I can’t be his friend. No, in a place like that one coexists. The judging is done by the judges on the outside.

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Δεν μπορω να καταλαβω κι εγω ο ιδιος τον εαυτο μου. Ειναι ωρες που νομιζω πως δεν ειμαι τιποτα περισσοτερο απο το μαυρο θερμαστη Τζοννυ, που ζει μοναχα για να τρωει. Ειναι ωρες που νομιζω πως ολα μεσα μου εχουν πεθανει και λεω πως η καρδια μου εχει σκληρυνει, καθως οι παλαμες μου. .. Εχω δει τοσα και τοσα… Κι αλλες ωρες παλι, νομιζω πως μεσα μου εχω ολη την καλοσυνη και την αγνοτητα, που λειπει του κοσμου…

(Unnamed Mariner: I cannot understand my own self. There are moments I think I am nothing more than the black fireman Johnny, who lives only to eat. There are moments I think that everything inside me is dead and I say that my heart is as tough as my palm… I have seen a lot… And then, I think that I have in me all the goodness and purity that the world is longing for…)

Mr. FFF: I have often pictured myself in Tangier, restless and subdued, loving it and hating it, looking from a hill all the way to the north, to Gibraltar, to the escape. Crossing the Pillars of Hercules, entering another life, another planet, another universe, getting away from all the mess. In this sense a sea journey always has this cleansing aspect. The sea takes away all the mess you carry with you.

Mrs T: Why in Tangier?

Mr. FFF: Because I still have this dream that I am in Tangier and I meet W S Burrows in one of the tea shops up on the hill. And then I get on a boat and leave him behind. We do not exchange a single word. We just look at each other and drink tea. As a matter of fact, nobody in the tea shop talks. They drink tea and smoke shisha. I wanted to ask Burrows why he killed Joan Vollmer.

W S Burrows: (we hear his voice through a cloud, but cannot see him) I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I would never have become a writer but for Joan’s death, and to a realization of the extent to which this event has motivated and formulated my writing. I live with the constant threat of possession, and a constant need to escape from possession, from control. So the death of Joan brought me in contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and maneuvered me into a life long struggle, in which I have had no choice except to write my way out.

Mrs. T: The sea cleanses, the sea kills, the sea destroys all evidence of a committed crime. The sea gives you refuge, the sea hides you away from the prying eyes of society, it is the protector of the all the runaways. Hide away, hide away sinful souls! But even worse is the running away of those who have not committed any crime, but run away from themselves. Even the sea cannot save them.

Headwaiter: Would you like to have a drink before your meal?

Mrs. T: I would like a bitter Campari with soda water, a slice of lemon and ice.

Mr. FFF: A double scotch on the rocks for me please.

Headwaiter: Certainly. Here is our menu for tonight. I recommend the grilled shark steak. It is as fresh as it gets.

Mrs. T: Did you catch the shark while sailing? I would loooove to have the juicy grilled shark steak with sea weed rolls stuffed with angulas.

Headwaiter: I had these rolls in Bilbao, and I loved them,. Unfortunately I cannot offer them to you tonight. Could I possibly offer you instead boiled vegetables with mustard sauce?

Mrs. T: Of course, it was a long shot anyway! Boiled vegetables will be fine. But please hold the mustard sauce.

Mr. FFF: Shall we have a robust white wine with the shark? Like assyrtico from Santorini.

Headwaiter: Splendid choice, I can serve you “Santorini” by Sigalas, 2008.

Ανδρέας Σπερχής: Βεατρίκη!…Βεατρίκη!…Συγχώρησέ με.

(Andreas Sperchis: Beatrice!.. Beatrice!… Forgive me!)

W.B. Yeats

Cast a cold Eye
On Life, on Death.
Horseman, pass by!

Υβοννη: Τι συμβαίνει και δεν ημπορεί κανείς να απολαμβάνη πάντοτε τον έρωτα σαν μίαν ωραίαν οπώραν {…}, σαν ένα ωραίο τοπείον, σαν ένα ωραίο ξένοιστο πρωί, πασίχαρο, αυροφίλητο, γιομάτο ευφροσύνη, σαν ένα μυροβόλο περιβόλι, ή σαν μια καθαρή αμμουδιά, λουσμένη από γαλάζιο πέλαγος ευδαιμονίας; Μήπως δεν φταίει καθόλου, μα καθόλου ο έρως (εξηκολούθησε να σκέπτεται μα αιμάσσουσαν καρδίαν η Υβόννη). Μήπως φταίει ο τρόπος με τον οποίον αντιμετωπίζουν οι άνθρωποι τον έρωτα, τόσον εις το ατομικόν, όσον και εις το κοινωνικόν επίπεδον; Μήπως, αν δεν έμπαινε στη μέση το λεγόμενον «αίσθημα» και η λεγομένη «ηθική», θα ημπορούσε τότε μόνον να είναι ο έρως τέλειος και απλός και εύκολος, επ’ άπειρον πανήδονος και απολύτως παντοδύναμος – όλο χαρά (μόνο χαρά), όλο γλύκα (μόνο γλύκα), χωρίς απαγορεύσεις, στερήσεις, πικρίες, διάφορα «μούπες-σούπα» και άλλα αηδή και ακατανόητα, όπως η αποκλειστικότης, η εντός του γάμου αγνότης και όλη η σχετική με αυτόν απέραντη όσον και μάταια ηθικολογία και φιλολογία;

(Yvonne: Why is it that one cannot enjoy sex as a tasty fruit… as a beautiful landscape, as a wonderful morning, without worries, full of joy, fresh air, as a garden full of perfumes, or a shiny sandy beach, caressed by the blue sea? Could it be that this has nothing to do with eros? < continued to wonder with her heart bleeding >. Could it be the way that people handle eros both on a personal and on a social level? Could it be that if there were no “emotional” component and the so called “ethical” dimension, that eros could be perfect and simple and easy, endlessly hedonistic and absolutely omnipotent – full of joy – only joy – without prohibitions, bitter moments, all the incomprehensible nonsense like fidelity, exclusivity, purity within the wedding and other similar stuff?)

Mr. FFF: (reading from the voluminous novel “Great Anatolikos”, of Andreas Empeirikos) Yvonne all of a sudden stopped crying. It was as if she saw a light, a bright light coming from a lighthouse off the southeastern tip of the coast of Ireland.

Υβοννη: Μήπως, μα τον Θεόν, ο μόνος Θεός ήτο ένας τεράστιος και παντοδύναμος Ψώλων και, ουσιαστικώς, υπήρχαν μόνον ηδοναί, διά του πανισχύρου Πέους του και του υπερπλουσίου Σπέρματός του χορηγούμεναι; Και μήπως αι ηδοναί αύται, τουτέστιν αι ερωτικαί, ήσαν αι πράξεις εκείναι, που επλησίαζαν ασυγκρίτως περισσότερον απ’ οτιδήποτε άλλο τους ανθρώπους προς τον Μεγαλοψώλονα Θεόν, τον απόλυτον Πλάστην και Κτήτορα του Κόσμου, τον απόλυτον Κύριον των Δυνάμεων, τον απόλυτο Άρχοντα των Ουρανών και της μικράς μας Γης;

(Yvonne: Could it be, that the only God were a huge omnipotent Phallus, and, essentially, there were only pleasures on earth, disseminated eternally by its powerful flesh and abundant semen? And it could it also be, that these erotic pleasures, were the actions that were bringing humans close to the Omnipotent Phallus, the Absolute Creator and Owner of the World, the absolute Keeper of the Forces, the absolute Master of the Skies and our little Earth? )

Stendhal: J’entreprends d’écrire l’histoire de ma vie jour par jour

Γιωργος Σεφερης: Μερα με τη μερα ζουμε τη ζωη μας – δεν τη γραφουμε.

(George Seferis: Day by day we live our life – we do not write it.)

Dimitri Mitropoulos: There is a plan for April 1052, a grand tour; travelling on a ship we will call on all Mediterranean ports, where the Philharmonic (New York) under my humble direction, will play, not on board the ship, but in the concert halls of the cities. The route is roughly this: Liboa, Barcelona, Palermo, Athens, Tel-Aviv, Napoli, Roma, Firenze, Milano, Genoa. Later we added Paris to the tour, which means that the whole Orchestra will get off the ship in Marseille and return to the States from Cherbourg on another vessel.

Mr. FFF: The ashes of Maria Callas have been scaterred over these blue waters.

Mrs. T: Why did she die?

Mr. FFF: Because she could no longer love. And life without the ability to love had no meaning for her.

Mrs. T: If you have the ability to love, other people love you?

Mr. FFF: Not necessarily. But you have piece with yourself.

Mrs. T: So you are saying that Callas died because she could not find piece with herself.

Mr. FFF: Yes, you could put it this way.

Mrs. T: Why is it so hard. if not impossible, to find inner piece if you have lost the ability to love?

Mr. FFF: When you lose the ability to love, you begin to view life as an end, the end. Death takes over the mystery of life and it no longer is a mystery, but a horrid affair.

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Δεν εχω ερωτευτει ποτε στη ζωη μου… Εγνωρισα χιλιαδες γυναικες. Ειναι ολες τους παντοτε ιδιες… Εχω καιρο να κοιμηθω με γυναικες. Γι’ αυτο το πραμα οι ναυτες με κοροιδευουν. Εγω δεν φταιω… Ειναι μια ιστορια που η αρχη της ειχε γραφτει στο επιβατικο, που ταξιδευα αλλοτε… Ειναι μια θλιβερη ιστορια…Δεν θυμαμαι πια τ’ ονομα της. Αυτο δεν εχει καμια σημασια. Οι γυναικες δεν θα’ πρεπε να’ χουν ονοματα, αφου ολες τους ειναι ιδιες… Ταξιδευε απο την Αλεξανδρεια για τη Μασσαλια με τη μητερα της. Ητανε κορη ενος βαμβακεμπορου, που ειχε ξεπεσει κι αυτοκτονησε…. Μου χαρησε ενα πορτοφολι απο ψαροδερμα και της χαρισα το Σταυρο μου… Υστερα απο τρια χρονια στο Μπουενος Αιρες κοιμηθηκα μια νυχτια με καποια γυναικα. Το πρωι οταν εβγαλα το πορτοφολι μου να πληρωσω, δεν ξερω πως, εβγαλε μια φωνη καθως το ειδε κι εγω αλλη μια, οταν ειδα ενα μικρο σταυρο καρφωμενο στη ρομπα της… Μπορει και να το’ δα στον υπνο μου. Μου φαινεται ομως πως ολες οι γυναικες ειναι το ιδιο.

(Unnamed Mariner: I have never fallen in love in my life…. I have met thousands of women. They are always all the same… I haven’ t slept with a woman for a long time now. One of the reasons the sailors make fun of me. It is not my fault… It is a story whose beginning has been written on a passenger ship, where I used to work… It is a sad story… I no longer remember her name. It does not matter. Women should not have names, as they are all the same… She was travelling from Alexandria to Marseille with her mother. She was the daughter of a cotton merchant who went bancrupt and committed suicide. .. She gave me a wallet made of fishskin and I gave her my cross… Three years later, in Buenos Aires, I slept one night with a woman. In the morning, when I took out my wallet to pay her, I do not know, she screamed as she saw it and I screamed back when I saw a small cross pinned on her dress… I could be dreaming. Nevertheless, it appears to e that all women are the same.))

Frederico Fellini: I love shipwrecks. Decadence is indispensable to rebirth

Mr. FFF: A dear friend years ago was bragging about specializing in the hauling of shipwrecks. In his own sarcastic way he was referring to his need – of the time – to relate to women in the middle of a huge personal crisis.

Alberto Moravia: (on Frederico Fellini’s film “E la Nave va”) What is brilliant,” is the intuition that European society of the Belle Epoque had emptied itself of all humanism leaving only an artificial and exhaustive formalism. The result was a society founded on a continuous yet contemptible melodrama. The other genial intuition is that of the fundamental unity of the world back then which was completely bourgeois or utterly obsessed with the bourgeoisie. This idea comes through magnificently in the scene where immaculate opera singers perform leaning over the iron balcony of the engine room as sweat-grimed workers cease stoking the furnace with coal to listen to the splendid voices.

Frederico Fellini: Opera has an insane aspect that is truly fascinating. Opera is a ritual, a Mass, a shepherd’s song…

Dimitri Mitropoulos: Here I am, on solid earth again, after an unforgettable sea trip! If you could only see me from a distance, how I survived these 19 horrible days on the lousy ship. But as you can see, I did not die; I made music and played bridge, trying to fight against the complete lack of comfort, the detestable food and the continuous rocking of the boat… I have thought of you more than one thousand times, I was sad, sad in the thought that it will be a long time before I see again the people I love. I wonder if my musical gifts and talent deserve this sacrifice.

Frederico Fellini: It (filming) makes us regard people and things as if the whole world was a set at our disposal, an immense prop department on which we lay our hands without asking permission. It is somewhat like a painter for whom objects, faces, houses, the sky are merely forms at his disposal. For the cinema everything becomes a still life without limits; even the feelings of others are something placed at out disposal.

Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος: Χτες ακουσα τον μεγαλυτερο μπασο του κοσμου τον Chaliapin. Τραγουδησε την περιφημη αρια απο την οπερα του Mussorgsky Boris Godunov οπου ειναι θειος. Τραγουδησε και πολλα ρωσικα τραγουδια δραματικα, λυρικα, και λαικα. Και παντου θριαμβεψε. Τι φωνη, τι μεταλλο, τι χρωμα τι δυναμη! Σε κεραβνοβολει και σε χαϊδεβει συναμα. Μεγαλος αρτιστας ο Chaliapin.

(Andreas Empeirikos: Yesterday I heard the greatest bass of the world, Chaliapin. He sung the famous aria of Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov. He was divine. He also sung many other songs. He triumphed in each one of them. What a voice, what metal, what colour, what intensity! It hits you like a thunder and at the same time it caresses you. Chaliapin is a great artist.)

Mr. FFF: My grandfather was very fond of Chaliapin. He had loads of his records. But he had to exchange them for olive oil during the second world war. Primum vivere, deinte philosophare.

Ανδρεας Εμπειρικος: Πατερα… Δεν μου φαινεται δυνατον να συνεργασθω με εναν ανθρωπο σαν και σενα παρα την μεγαλη αξια που σου αναγνωριζω σε πολλα επιπεδα. Δεν ειναι αρκετα ανθρωπος για μενα. ..Λοιπον αντι να ξαναμπω στις δουλειες σου παραιτουμαι απ’ ολες περα για περα και σου αφηνω γεια.

(Andreas Empeirikos: Father… It does not appear possible to work with a person like you, in spite of how valuable I consider you in many areas. You are not human enough for me… So instead of joining you again in your business I resign from everything and bid you farewell.)

Ανωνυμος Ναυτης: Ζαλιστηκα. Ετσι οπως τοτε παιδι, που μ’ επιανε η θαλασσα. Τι ατιμο πραμα η ναυτια… Ξερατο, χολες. Γινεσαι μπαιγνιο, κουρελι. Τιποτ’ αλλο δε σκεφτεσαι, παρα πως θα ξεμπαρκαρεις, μολις φτασεις στο πρωτο λιμανι. Εφτασες; Τα ξεχνας ολα και ξαναφευγεις. Αρχιζεις να συνηθας. Νομιζεις. Δε σε ζαλιζει πια το ποτζι, μα σε χαλαει το σκαμπανεβασμα. Παει κι αυτο. Σου μενει να συνηθισεις τωρα οταν σκαμπανεβαρει και ποτζαρει μαζι. Εισαι νετα. Κανεις αχταρμα. Αλλαζεις καραβι. Πρεπει να μαθεις τα κουνηματα του καινουργιου. Καθε καραβι εχει τα δικα του. Ενας φορτηγισος ζαλιζεται σ’ ενα ποσταλι. Παραξενη αρρωστια. Φαρμακο… η στερια. Οι κουφοι, εκεινοι που εχουνε χασει την οσφρηση, δεν ζαλιζονται. Μητε οι τρελοι.

(Unnamed Mariner: I am sea sick. As when I was a kid, and the sea was making me sick. What a terrible thing … sea sickness. You become a wreck. You cannot think of anything else, but how to get off, as soon as you arrive at the first port of call. Have you arrived? You forget everything and sail off again. You begin to get used to it. You think you are. You change ship. You have to get used to the movements of the new ship. Every ship moves in its own way. A cargo ship sailor gets sick on a passenger ship. Strange sickness. The only medicine is the ground. The deaf, the ones who cannot smell anything, they do not get sea sickness. Neither do the mad.)

Ιωαννης ο Θεολογος (Αποκαλυψη): Και εδωκεν η θαλασσα τους νεκρους τους εν αυτη, και ο θανατος και ο Αιδης εδωκαν τους νεκρους τους εν αυτοις, και εκριθησαν εκαστος κατα τα εργα αυτων.

(St John the Divine: The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what he had done.)

Participants

Archilochus, 7th century BC Greek poet, from the island of Paros

Andreas Empeirikos: Greek born and raised in Vraila, Romania, writer and psychoanalyst

Mr. FFF, Greek, wanderer

First Steward, Greek, passenger ship

Frederico Fellini, Italian film maker

Headwaiter, passenger ship

Jon Iturri, Basque sea captain

Saint John the Divine, author of the Revelation

Maqroll “el Gaviero”, unknown ethnicity, hero in many Alvaro Mutis novels

Unnamed Mariner, in the journals of Nikos Kavvadias

Unnamed Millitary Officer, South American

Dimitri Mitropoulos, Greek conductor and composer

Alberto Moravia, Italian novelist

Alvaro Mutis, Colombian writer

Captain Nick, Greek, captain of motor ship “Gloria”

George Seferis, Greek poet and Nobel Laureate in Literature

Andreas Sperchis, Greek of Wallachian origin

Stendhal, French writer

Mrs. T, unknown ethnicity, gourmant

Voltaire: French writer and philosopher

W.B. Yeats, Irish poet and playwright

Yvonne, a passenger of “Megas Anatolikos”

Venice: A “Fluxus Eleatis” Discourse

Michel Foucault: Discourse operates in four major ways. Discourse creates a world; discourse generates knowledge and “truth”; discourse says something about the people who speak it; discourse always incorporates elements of power.

Socrates und Alcibiades

A poem by Friedrich Hoelderlin

“Warum huldigest du, heiliger Socrates,

“Diesem Juenglinge stets? kennest du Groessers nicht?

“Warum siehet mit Liebe,

“Wie auf Goetter, dein Aug’ auf ihn?

Wer das Tiefste gedacht, liebt das Lebendigste,

Hohe Jugend versteht, wer in die Welt geblikt

Und es neigen die Weisen

Oft am Ende zu Schoenem sich.

Gustav von Aschenbach: ‘What lies in wait for me here, Ambiguous Venice, Where water is married to stone, And passion confuses the senses?’

Farfarello: And so, if you’d like to give me your soul before its time, I’m here, ready to take it.

Luchino Visconti: The sky has to be orange, even if Fassbinder copies me in Querelle.

Mr. FFF: I started my trip from the Northern Cemetery in Munich. I arrived in Venice by train. The Marathon run finished a few minutes ago. There are many visitors. The water of the lagoon has a dull grey color. It is chilly. It is cloudy but there is no rain. Mrs. T misses you already.

MM: Do not get lost in the art farm that is Venice! I googled and saw that you have bad weather and it’s raining. Hope you got your wellies.

Apollo: Reason, control, and clarity

Gustav von Aschenbach: I am furious because I am forced to return, but secretly I rejoice.

Dionysus: Wander lust

Gustav von Aschenbach: Vacillating, irresolute, absurd.

Thomas Mann: A life spiraling out of control.

Friedrich Hoelderlin:

Und immer,

Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht.

(And always,

there is a longing to dissolve)

Mr. FFF: In Palazzo Grassi I met Mr. Dob, the Manga character that has been adopted by Takashi Murakami. He has three eyes and an energizing stare. Mr. Dob inhabits Murakami’s masterpiece 727-272 (The Emergence of God at the Reversal of Fate). Mrs. T is in love with him but he ignores her. For her, it was love at first sight. For him, she does not even exist.

MM: Luckily today I will be on scrub watch so that should keep me busy enough not to think about not having the both of you around.

Don Giovanni:

Deh vieni alla finestra, o mio tesoro,

Deh vieni a consolar il pianto mio.

Se neghi a me di dar qualche ristoro,

Davanti agli occhi tuoi morir vogl’ io.

Tu ch’ ai la bocca dolce piu che il miele,

Tu che il zucchero porti in mezzo il core!

Non esser, gioia mia, con me crudele!

Lascati almen veder, mio bell’ amore!

Friedrich Nietzsche: To experience a thing as beautiful means: to experience it necessarily wrongly – (which, incidentally, is why marriage for love is, from the point of view of society, the most unreasonable king of marriage). The demand for art and beauty is an indirect demand for the ecstasies of sexuality communicated to the brain.

Farfarello: Well, then, since of necessity you love yourself with the greatest love of which you’re capable, of necessity you desire your happiness as strongly as you can. And since this supreme desire of yours can never be satisfied even in the smallest degree, it follows that in no way can you escape being unhappy.

Gustav von Aschenbach: Time presses, time does not press

Constantine Cavafy: Πλαϊ στο παραθυρο ηταν το κρεββατι που αγαπηθηκαμε τοσες φορες. (By the window was the bed where we made love so many times).

Mr. FFF: A Cretan Madonna in Santa Maria della Salute. It was taken from the Church of Saint Titus in the last minute before fleeing Candia and Crete, by the Commander of the Venetians Morozini. The Ottomans captured Candia immediately after. Crete and Venice, share a co-existence that brought El Greco to Venice before he continued his journey to go to Spain.

MM: I can’t say I am doing such exciting stuff as you. I waited in line for an hour to change the tires on my car and now it’s being done. Nothing fun to report. Of course I miss the both of you terribly. It seems like I cannot have meaningful conversation with anybody else, but you. Not to mention the fact that we took our jokes and puns to a whole other level and now whatever jokes anybody tries to do is pointless.

Filippo Ottonieri: Except for the times of suffering, as well as of fear, I would think that the worst moments are those of pleasure because the hope for them and the memory of them, which occupy the rest of our lives, are better and much more pleasant than the pleasures themselves.

efficiency_men — Thomas Schutte: Efficiency Men, Punta della Dogana, Venice

Jean Baudrillard: Everyday experience falls like snow. Immaterial, crystalline and microscopic, it enshrouds all the features of the landscape. It absorbs sounds, the resonance of thoughts and events; the wind sweeps across it sometimes with unexpected violence and it gives off an inner light, a malign fluorescence which bathes all forms in crepuscular indistinctness. Watching time snow down, ideas snow down, watching the silence of some aurora borealis light up, giving in to the vertigo of enshrouding and whiteness.

Friedrich Hoelderlin:

Wo aber gefahr ist, waechst,

Das Rettende auch.

(Where there is danger,

some Salvation grows there too.)

Gustav von Aschenbach : What if all were dead, and only we two left alive

Luigi Pirandello: The torment of imagining you far away – among other people who can have the joy of seeing you, talking to you, being near you while I am here without life because I can neither see you nor talk with you, nor be near you – can be mitigated only by the thought that you feel my presence within you and that even from far away you give me life, and that even in your silence you see me and talk to me; in one word, that I am alive and close to you, more than those who see you, talk to you, and are around you.

Mr. FFF: Thomas Schuette’s “Efficiency Men” were waiting for me at the Punta della Dogana. Their steel bodies were covered down to their knees by felt blankets. It was like a call to Joseph Beuys. His felt self is all over German Art.

MM: You realize I’m not having nearly as much fun as you are, but I expect to be entertained upon your return! So prepare lots of stories from Venice. You know the kind: money, blood and sex.

Giuseppe Ungaretti:

ECO

Scalza varcando da sabbie lunari,

Aurora, amore festoso, d’ un’ eco

Popoli l’ esule universe e lasci

Nella carne dei giorni,

Perenne scia, una piaga velata.

Luigi Pirandello: What life is there left for me? I don’t care anymore about anything. Only about you do I care, and all that concerns you, my Marta; if you suffer, suffering with you and for you; if you get angry, getting angry with you; if you hope, hoping with you and for you. And remaining – for as long as I stay alive, for as long as my eyes stay open, for as long as my heart keeps beating, for as long as the soul burns in me – with my eyes, my heart, my soul, enchanted by your beauty, by the charms of your person, by the divine nobility of your feelings and of your spirit.

Adele:

Whenever I’m alone with you

You make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I’m alone with you

You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I’m alone with you

You make me feel like I am young again

Whenever I’m alone with you

You make me feel like I am fun again

However far away I will always love you

However long I stay I will always love you

Whatever words I say I will always love you

I will always love you

Mr. FFF: Fog everywhere. I boarded a U-boat where a rabbi was reading the Kaballah. Later, in Hotel Metropol during lunch I met an Indian Maharadja and his German maiden.

MM: All these cultural encounters! We redid the kitchen; the hard part is over now. You may be interested to know that nothing works without me!

Gustav Mahler: I should not have cried on the train departing Venice. I should not have dismissed Alma’s music compositions. It is too late now. I gave my name to von Aschenbach.

Discource Participants

Adele, English singer

Apollo, Greek God of light

Gustav von Aschenbach, German writer (through the pen of Thomas Mann, through the interpretation of Myfawny Piper, through the camera of Luchino Visconti, through the interpretation of Fluxus Eleatis)

Jean Baudrillard, French philosopher

Constantine Cavafy, Greek poet

Dionysus, Greek God of pleasure

Farfarello, character created by Giacomo Leopardi

Michel Foucault, French philosopher

Mr. FFF, wanderer

Don Giovanni, a young, extremely licentious nobleman (created by Lorenzo da Ponte)

Friedrich Hoelderlin, German poet

Gustav Mahler, Austrian composer

Thomas Mann, German writer

MM, partner

Friedrich Nietzsche, German philosopher

Filippo Ottonieri, philosopher created by Giacomo Leopardi

Luigi Pirandello, Italian writer and Nobel Laureate

Giuseppe Ungaretti, Italian poet

Luchino Visconti, Italian director

Κατηγορία: love

Remembrance as the revisiting of fragmented accumulated imprints

Una Furtiva Lagrima, from Donizetti’s Opera ‘L’elisir D’amore’

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

On Light and Shadow: A “Fluxus Eleatis” Discourse

“Our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and come to nought as the mist that is driven away with the beams of the sun. For our time is as a shadow that passeth away and after our end there is no returning.” Wisdom of Solomon 2.4

Participants

The Discourse (Fragments)

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Cupid dancing: from Foggia to London

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Θυσιάζω αρνάκι άσπρο και παχύ, Μαρία Πενταγιώτισσα

Executive Summary

Εισαγωγή

Πάντα υπάρχει ένα άσπρο αρνάκι

Μαρία η μοιραία γυναίκα

Διονύσιος ο αισιόδοξος

Μάρκος ο απαισιόδοξος

Χάλασε ο φούρνος!

Ηθικό δίδαγμα

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Marta Abba: Luigi Pirandello’s muse and unfulfilled love

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Γλωσσολογικον πονημα επι του “Σεβαστου” και των παραγωγων του

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Naked heart forever – unprotected, exposed, defenceless

‘Du bist mein und bist so zierlich,’

You’re mine and so dainty,

O so dear

O so dear from far and near and white all

Another Day

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

When eros makes life impossible: A “Fluxus Eleatis” discourse

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

The Sea: A “Fluxus Eleatis” discourse

Participants

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Venice: A “Fluxus Eleatis” Discourse

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

Una Furtiva Lagrima, from Donizetti’s Opera ‘L’elisir D’amore’

Κοινοποιήστε:

Μου αρέσει αυτό:

“Our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and come to nought as the mist that is driven away with the beams of the sun. For our time is as a shadow that passeth away and after our end there is no returning.” Wisdom of Solomon 2.4

Participants

The Discourse (Fragments)

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Executive Summary

Εισαγωγή

Πάντα υπάρχει ένα άσπρο αρνάκι

Μαρία η μοιραία γυναίκα

Διονύσιος ο αισιόδοξος

Μάρκος ο απαισιόδοξος

Χάλασε ο φούρνος!

Ηθικό δίδαγμα

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Κοινοποιήστε:

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‘Du bist mein und bist so zierlich,’

You’re mine and so dainty,

O so dear

O so dear from far and near and white all

Another Day

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Participants

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