quarta-feira, 29 de agosto de 2012
terça-feira, 28 de agosto de 2012
La restauradora del Cristo de Borja
grande senhora. adoro. fez como lhe pareceu, e o padre autorizou como lhe pareceu. está tudo muito bem. adoro:VHM
http://youtu.be/E8FrHHscUlo
sexta-feira, 24 de agosto de 2012
quinta-feira, 16 de agosto de 2012
Musée des Beaux Arts, Poem by WH Auden
We can imagine WH Auden visiting the Musées Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique in Brussels, and meditating on the art of Pieter Bruegel (The Elder). He focuses specifically on "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus." Icarus was the son of master craftsman Daedalus, who made wings made of feathers and wax, with which they could both escape prison. Daedalus instructed his son not to fly too close to the sun, but out of sheer delight Icarus did not heed this. The wax melted, and he fell to his death in the sea. Auden's poem is a homage to Breugel's insights into the unflinching ordinariness of everyday life, which for better or for worse speaks to our human lot. It was a masterful painting, rendered masterfully into the art form of poetry!
Here's the poem, from an analysis on this site: http://poetrypages.lemon8.nl/life/musee/museebeauxarts.htm
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0RTvtN4iGc
THE OLD MASTERS
These Art Museums often seem lustreless,
sterile and as impersonal as mausoleums:
they could never have been what the great
Master Painters would have wished or wanted.
Their marvels screwed into the very walls;
incarcerated anyway under layers
of glaze and slowly-darkening varnish.
Yet unexpectedly, bizarrely, today,
a gaggle of unseen, journeyman decorators
have flooded the gallery with the alien reek
of fresh, new paint. A suppressed coughing
ripples the disturbed air and heralds stranger
metaphysical transformations: for parched
pigments on scores of antique canvasses,
arid oils on old wood panels exhale
a sustained, but distinctly audible, sigh.
And now, the Old Masters themselves,
- invisible in adjoining studios or chambers -
bend once more over kettles of oak-tree bark
and bovine urine. There's the sound
of lapis lazuli, no doubt, being smashed
and ground down to a vivid dust;
the preparation of linseed and walnut oils.
They habitually draw together into pairs
or groups to share good news; review
fortuitous innovations, techniques and tricks,
and thus conspire - in that stimulating stench
of wood-smoke, piss and stale hoof-glue -
to delight, to move and utterly astonish you.
http://youtu.be/1m3ggEcARcU
Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Tower of Babel, 1563
Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Tower of Babel, 1563, oil on panel, 114 × 155 cm (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna).
http://youtu.be/K6BKDveCd9w
Hans Holbein the Younger, The Ambassadors, 1533
Hans Holbein the Younger, The Ambassadors, 1533, oil on oak, 207 x 209.5 cm (The National Gallery, London).
http://youtu.be/PQZUIGzinZA
http://www.googleartproject.com/unsupported-ie/
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