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March 24, 2007
Madrilidades
No sera la no dimensión del presente la que hace posible la vida, como la no dimensión del punto hace posible la geometría?
No vi el viento vi moverse las nubes.
No vi el tiempo vi caerse las hojas.
-- Escritos, Eduardo Chillida (exhibition at the Biblioteca Nacional)
"Pasó seis horas examinando las cosas, tratando de encontrar una diferencia con el aspecto que tuvieron el día anterior, pendiente de descubrir en ellas algún cambio que revelara el transcurso del tiempo.(...) El viernes, antes que se levantar nadie, volvió a vigilar la aparencia de la naturaleza, hasta que no tuvo la menor duda de que seguía siendo lunes." -- Cien años de soledad, Gabriel Garcia Márquez (got a new copy at the Paseo del Prado book fair)
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Amused by the odd cataloging at La Casa del Libro. No self-help section so the next good thing seems to be philosophy.
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Overheard at the Real Jardín Botánico in Madrid: "Un bonsai es um árbolito chiquitito".
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Lazying in the sun at El Retiro park.
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"Tenemos otros usos propios, al cristal le llamamos también luna. Así pueden enamorar sin querer a una española, cuando en un taxi le pregunte si quiere que le baje la luna" -- Marcos Martos Carrera, president of the Peruvian Academy of Language about the specificities of the peruvian spanish (a propos of the IV Congresso de La Lengua in Cartagena de las Indias, Colombia)
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March 12, 2007
Two things impressed me greatly this last weekend: a scene from El laberinto del Fauno and a Crucifixus Dolorosus at the exhibition of medieval art from the National Museum in Warsaw. And in a way they're related, being Jesus Christ the rebel par excellence.
The crucifix was hanging on the last room I visited. It's life size and dramatically lit. The Y cross somehow makes it look more real to me. And so does the position of the body and head: the crucified eventually would die suffocated as he wouldn't be able to exhale for his body's weight was suspended from his arms, the nailing of the feet being an extra aid to prolong the agony as he would be able to rise and breath from time to time. The Crucifixus Dolorosus was supposed to make the bystander meditate and this one worked for me. Whether Jesus lived or not, the capacity of some to die or withstand pain for their beliefs and as martyrs of causes is something that I have an immense admiration for.
(this painting came to my mind as one of the scenes unfolded and, sure enough, I find that Guillermo del Toro claims Goya to have been an influence in this movie).
And so, despite the dedication of the heroes in El Laberinto del Fauno and the sacrifices and readiness to die they showed throughout the movie, the bit where the doctor kills the tortured republican out of mercy by giving him an overdose of painkillers - although the orders of the Capitán Vidal were precisely the opposite, he should make him stay alive so that he could torture him more - will be the one scene I know will stay in my mind:
Vidal: Dígame, porqué no me obedeció?
Doctor: Es que-
Una larga pausa.
Doctor: Obedecer por obedecer - Así, sin pensarlo...
Vidal aprieta las quijadas, tienso.
Doctor: Sólo lo hacen gentes como usted, Capitán.
And Vidal shoots him in the back as he walks away.
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It is better to die standing than to live on your knees. -- Emiliano Zapata or was it Che?
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Des idées réclamant le fameux sacrifice
Les sectes de tout poil en offrent des séquelles
Et la question se pose aux victimes novices
Mourir pour des idées, c'est bien beau mais lesquelles ? ---Georges Brassens
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March 03, 2007
Vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas
Paula Rego was commissioned by the Gulbenkian foundation to paint a Vanitas - a symbolic still life reminding us of the fleeting condition of life. It's also supposed to be the companion of a short story where the eponymous collector laments that despite his collecting of still lifes, he never managed to buy a Vanitas.
The tryptich is like a novel, there's a narrative that rises in intensity as it progresses.
I find this tryptich very upsetting. For me, it's not a Vanitas at all. All the symbolism is there: skulls (some of them reminiscent of Posadas' calaveritas and mexican day of the dead sugar dolls), withering flowers, a clock to remind us of the passage of time, a guitar and dolls symbolizing the temporary nature of enjoyment...
But I can't help thinking that the woman in yellow is a self-portrait. The central painting shows us her looking defiant, angry even. The body language of her crossed arms is saying "leave me alone". She seems to be awaken from the sleep that overcame her in the previous panel, suddenly aware of what those objects on the table meant: "What? Me? Die? Never!". And while she looked unaware of pending death on the first painting, on the last one she has snatched the sickle away from the grim reaper and looks menacing at us, a macabre glare. What I find upsetting is that the menacing look she's giving me should be directed to "Death". Or is she just saying that her paintings are her way to immortality? Anyway, it feels like Paula Rego has won.
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March 01, 2007
Infinite Library
"The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite and perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries, with vast air shafts between, surrounded by very low railings. From any of the hexagons one can see, interminably, the upper and lower floors." -- The Library of Babel, Jorge Luis Borges
(too much Borges lately)
Book Cell by Matej Krén
It's right there, upon entering the modern art museum. A tower of books with a passage through it. Cute, I thought. As I walked in I felt like Alice falling down the rabbit-hole, only this was an infinite tunnel of books - an illusion created by cleverly placed mirrors. Fighting vertigo, it became one of my favourite art installations of all time.
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