treino de pegar no canivete

passar camisas, descascar laranjas, o lado A de um LP riscado que ainda roda no gira-discos. ali não há a opção circular 'repeat'. quando acaba, acaba mesmo e fica um ruído bem conhecido de quem como eu se recorda do final da música.

The Mirror, Tarkovsky

o filme mais bonito que já vi mas isso é dizer pouco, um dos melhores filmes jamais feitos, talvez seja mais claro. não vou dizer nada sobre esta obra-prima, citações só.

First Dates
by Arseni Tarkovsky

Each moment of our dates, not many,
We celebrated as an Epiphany.
Alone in the whole world.
More daring and lighter than a bird
Down the stairs, like a dizzy apparition,
You came to take me on your road,
Through rain-soaked lilacs,
To your own possession,
To the looking glass world.

As night descended
I was blessed with grace,
The altar gate opened up,
And in the darkness shining
And slowly reclining
Was your body naked.
On waking up I said:
God bless you!
Although I knew how daring and undue
My blessing was: You were fast asleep,
Your closed eyelids with the universal blue
The lilac on the table so strained to sweep.
Touched by the blue, your lids
Were quite serene, your hand was warm.

And rivers pulsed in crystal slits,
Mountains smoked, and oceans swarmed.
You held a sphere in your palm,
Of crystal; on your throne you were sleeping calm.
And, oh my God! -
Belonging only to me,
You woke and at once transformed
The language humans speak and think.
Speech rushed up sonorously formed,
With the word “you” so much reformed
As to evolve a new sense meaning king.

And suddenly all changed, like in a trance,
Even trivial things, so often used and tried,
When standing 'tween us, guarding us,
Was water, solid, stratified.
It carried us I don’t know where.
Retreating before us, like some mirage,
Were cities, miraculously fair.
Under our feet the mint grass spread,
The birds were following our tread,
The fishes came to a river bend,
And to our eyes the sky was open.

Behind us our fate was groping,
Like an insane man with a razor in his hand.

(translated from the Russian by Tatiana Kameneva)

and
A Beautiful Day

Beneath the jasmine a stone
marks a buried treasure.
On the path, my father stands.
A beautiful, beautiful day.

The gray poplar blooms,
centifola blooms,
and milky grass,
and behind it, roses climb.

I have never been
more happy than then.
I have never been more
happy than then.

To return is impossible
and to talk about it, forbidden—
how it was filled with bliss,
that heavenly garden.

daqui, muito bom.

'simplicity itself'

But what might appear confused, difficult, or opaque on first viewing becomes something else with repeated screenings. Having seen Mirror a half-dozen times, over a decade or so, in a number of different countries, it now appears to me as simplicity itself. What at first seems to be an aberration in regards cinematic narration now seems the most organic means of telling a story through the medium of film, through the use of images suffused with movement, time and light. Tarkovsky has described the dramaturgy of Mirror as following “the associative laws of music and poetry” (6), laws that are – at the same time – transformed through their contact with the medium of film.
daqui, Senses of Cinema.

“Mirror is so hypnotic that questions of the film’s alleged impenetrability dissolve under the impact of moment after moment of the most visually stunning, rhythmically captivating filmmaking imaginable.”
Maximilian Le Cain em www.sensesofcinema.com

este filme é mais eu do que eu.

 “My discovery of [his] first film was like a miracle,” recalled Ingmar Bergman. “Suddenly, I found myself standing at the door of a room the keys of which had, until then, never been given to me.”
daqui.

or woman

What better can we do to our brains than language, that elastic, infinite, pliable, transient, endless thing. As history remembers the first man who did this and that, it'll never remeber the first man who first uttered a word and then changed it. Just a little bit.

atrasei-me um pouco na melancolia, é preciso adiantar o passo.

- -

the politics of domination, capitalism and the theft of heritage.

"Reading Leonor’s post on the José Saramago Archive prompts me to reflect on its wider implications.  The first thing to say is that it is splendid news that the Saramago Archive is going to find a devoted and fitting home in Lisbon, amongst all the landmarks celebrated in books like ‘The history of the siege of Lisbon’.

The fact that the papers of one of the truly great novelists of the twentieth century should end up in Portugal, without a big purchasing battle, gives cause to reflect especially on questions of “language and location”.  The work presently underway on Diasporic Literary Archives (see an earlier post on this blog) now indicates that there are really only four countries which regularly and actively collect the papers of writers from other countries.  These are the USA, the UK, Canada and France.  And none of those countries has any significant tradition of studying Portuguese language or literature."
from here.

So that it be known: the raiders of other's treasures. Was it ever a surprise?

I'm sorry Turks (wink), this is the way it is.
"Excellent news about Saramago then.  What does it tell us when we think about the manuscripts of the other great novelists of the last part of the twentieth century?  My own list would start with Saramago and would always include Margaret Atwood, Samuel Beckett, Carlos Fuentes, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Elfriede Jelinek, Doris Lessing, Naguib Mahfouz and Orhan Pamuk.  That personal list provides some interesting stories and some telling controversies from the world of modern literary manuscripts."
(Ooh, one I have no clue about, exciting!)

Yes. (and I thank him every day for my hobby of already 4 years, Turkiye).
"Given that there is almost no interest in Turkish language and literature in the four big purchasing countries, there is every chance that the Orhan Pamuk Archive will stay in Istanbul, where it so obviously belongs.  It could be said that Pamuk is to Istanbul what Saramago is to Lisbon and Mahfouz to Cairo."

and finally:
"That leaves Gabriel García Márquez.  He is clearly a highly marketable author-commodity, and Spanish-language manuscripts are actively collected in the USA, not only by Princeton.  In November 2012, the first García Márquez manuscript to go on sale was auctioned at Christie’s, with a price guide between $80,000 and $127,000.  I don’t know what arrangements García Márquez may have written into his will (does anyone?), but it certainly seems unlikely that the main García Márquez Archive will end up in his native Colombia.

It is clear, in conclusion, that the language used by an author is a major factor in the eventual destination of their literary archive."

ou dito de outro modo; ainda bem que os assambarcadores daqueles quatro países são um pouco, digamos, cegos.

falls

afinal afinal

aquelas filas todas para votar não eram mais do que medo da dita-esquerda. a minha única nota positiva é: parabéns bloco! 

dito isso, para ler:  “The Time Regulation Institute” by Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar,  “Boundless Solitude” by Selim İleri, "The Caravan Moves On", Living Poets of Turkey, e muitos desta atraente lista, houvesse outra vida.