quarta-feira, 31 de dezembro de 2014

Dia VI: «Six Geese a Laying» ... e boa véspera de Ano Novo!

(link)
-
On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
-
-
Fornos de Jingdezhen, Prato (Sécs. XVI-XVII, Casa-Museu Dr. Anastácio Gonçalves)
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Vladimir Makovsky, A girl with geese (1875, Nizhny Tagil Museum of Art Fine Arts, Nizhny Tagil)
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Alfred Sisley, Village de Saint Mammès (c.1898)
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Neil Welliver, Canadian Geese (1979, Alexandre Gallery, Nova Iorque)
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Giacinto Melillo, Vaso (Séc. XIX, Palácio Nacional da Ajuda)

terça-feira, 30 de dezembro de 2014

Dia V: «Five Golden Rings»... e acreditar

Anel espiralado da Idade do Bronze Inicial (Museu Nacional de Arqueologia)
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Petrus Christus, St. Eligius as a goldsmith showing a ring to the engaged couple (1449, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Nova Iorque)
-
On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
-
-
William Turner, Undine Giving the Ring to Massaniello, Fisherman of Naples (1846, Tate Gallery, Londres)
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Robert Mangold, Ring A (Yellow) (2010)
(link)
-
«Disbelief gets processed by the limbic system's cingulate cortex and the anterior insula the same parts of the brain that report visceral sensations like pain and disgust.
This not only explains why we hate liars but why we as human beings long for something to believe in.
Whether it be Santa Claus or a scientific fact like gravity, our brains reward us emotionally when we believe.
To believe is to feel good.
To feel comforted.
But how can we trust our own belief systems when our brains are giving them emotional kickbacks? By balancing it all with critical thinking, by questioning everything, and by always, always being open to the possibilities.»
-
Perception - link (os "negritos" são da minha autoria)

segunda-feira, 29 de dezembro de 2014

Dia IV: «Four Calling Birds»

 
Mel Rye, Four Calling Birds (via Flickr)
-
On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
-
-
Pássaro polvilhador de canela em prata (Séc. XVIII, Palácio Nacional de Queluz)
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Manufactura de Edouard Honoré em Champroux en Allier, Prato «Pie Grièche» (1824-1840, Palácio Nacional da Ajuda)
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Kaoru Kawano, Yellow Canary (1950)
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Um link com interesse: http://10000birds.com/birds-of-the-twelve-days-of-christmas.htm

domingo, 28 de dezembro de 2014

Dia III: «Three French hens»

Fábrica de Faianças das Caldas da Rainha, Galinha (Século XIX, Museu de Cerâmica)
-
On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.
-
(link)
-
Grant Wood, The Appraisal (1931)
-

sábado, 27 de dezembro de 2014

Dia II: «Two Turtle Doves»

Sophie Gengembre Anderson, The Turtle Dove
-
On the Second day of Christmas my true love sent to me
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree.
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Josefa Greno, Pomba entre flores (séc. XIX, Museu de Évora)

sexta-feira, 26 de dezembro de 2014

Doze dias de Natal - Dia I: «A Partridge in a Pear Tree»

Perdiz (séc. XVIII ?, Casa-Museu Dr. Anastácio Gonçalves)
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On the first day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
A Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the second day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the fourth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the sixth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the seventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the eighth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the ninth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Nine Ladies Dancing
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the tenth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Ten Lords a Leaping
Nine Ladies Dancing
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the eleventh day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
Eleven Pipers Piping
Ten Lords a Leaping
Nine Ladies Dancing
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree

On the twelfth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
12 Drummers Drumming
Eleven Pipers Piping
Ten Lords a Leaping
Nine Ladies Dancing
Eight Maids a Milking
Seven Swans a Swimming
Six Geese a Laying
Five Golden Rings
Four Calling Birds
Three French Hens
Two Turtle Doves
and a Partridge in a Pear Tree
-

quinta-feira, 25 de dezembro de 2014

Natal V: O Menino Jesus

Catena (Vincenzo di Biagio), The Adoration of the Shepherds (c. 1520, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Nova Iorque)
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Ó meu Menino Jesus
Vinde ao meio da Igreja
Que vos quero adorar
Onde todo o mundo veja

Ó meu Menino Jesus
Vestido de azul celeste
Eu hei-de aprender a ler
Vós heis-de ser o meu Mestre
-
Natal da Beira (link)

quarta-feira, 24 de dezembro de 2014

Natal IV: Pinheiro ... e votos de Feliz Natal!

Paul Klee, Pinheiro bravo, Kiefer (1932 - exposto em Lisboa em 1972)
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«Há muitos anos, há dezenas e centenas de anos, havia em certo lugar da Dinamarca, no extremo Norte do país, perto do mar, uma grande floresta de pinheiros, tílias, abetos e carvalhos. Nessa floresta morava com a sua família um Cavaleiro. Viviam numa casa construída numa clareira rodeada de bétulas. E em frente da porta da casa havia um grande pinheiro que era a árvore mais alta da floresta.»
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Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen, O Cavaleiro da Dinamarca (link para o texto completo)

segunda-feira, 22 de dezembro de 2014

Natal III: Estrela

(link)
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«Então uma noite, entre as estrelas do céu, aparecia uma que brilhava mais que todas.
- Esta é a estrela, dizia a avó.
E era uma estrela que nos guiava. (...)»
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Manuel Alegre, Uma Estrela (link para o conto completo)

Natal II: Visco

(link)
-
«PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE»
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J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (2007)

Natal I: Rosas

George Sloane, The Story of the Rose (1902)
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«That summer the roses bloomed their splendid best. The little girl had learned a hymn in which there was a line about roses that reminded her of their own flowers. She sang it to the little boy, and he sang it with her: 
"Where roses bloom so sweetly in the vale,
There shall you find the Christ Child, without fail."»
-
Hans Christian Andersen, The Snow Queen.
-
(link)

Sob o signo de Capricórnio?

Bode (Idade do Bronze, Museu de Évora)
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Capricornus (c. 830-840, Leiden University Library)
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Nicolas Poussin, The Infant Jupiter Nurtured by the Goat Amalthea (c.1638, Gallery: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin)
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Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis, The Sun is passing the Sign of Capricorn (1906)
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Yule goat (link)

sábado, 20 de dezembro de 2014

Mundos de aventuras

(Latreia Designs in Etsy)
-
'Yes, that's so,' said Sam. `And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually – their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on – and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same – like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?'
`I wonder,' said Frodo. 'But I don't know. And that's the way of a real tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. And you don't want them to.'
'No, sir, of course not. Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that's a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it – and the Silmaril went on and came to Eärendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We've got – you've got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales never end? '
'No, they never end as tales,' said Frodo. `But the people in them come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later – or sooner.'
-
J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord Of The Rings, The Two Towers (1954)
(os "negritos" são meus)

quinta-feira, 18 de dezembro de 2014

Imaginário

Annibale Carracci, Virgin and Unicorn (A Virgin with a Unicorn) (1605, Palácio Farnese)
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"This is a child!" Haigha replied eagerly, coming: in front of Alice to introduce her, and spreading out both his hands towards her in an Anglo-Saxon attitude. "We only found it to-day. It's as large as life, and twice as natural!"
"I always thought they were fabulous monsters!" said the Unicorn. "Is it alive?"
"It can talk," said Haigha, solemnly.
The Unicorn looked dreamily at Alice, and said "Talk, child."
Alice could not help her lips curling up into a smile as she began: "Do you know, I always thought Unicorns were fabulous monsters, too! I never saw one alive before!"
"Well, now that we have seen each other," said the Unicorn, "if you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you. Is that a bargain?"
-

quarta-feira, 17 de dezembro de 2014

Fantasia

Paul Klee, Miraculous Landing (1920)
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“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.”
-

terça-feira, 16 de dezembro de 2014

Arcádia

Thomas Cole, The Course of Empire: The Arcadian or Pastoral State (1834, New-York Historical Society)
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What, know you not, old man (quoth he)—
Your hair is white, your face is wise—
That Love must kiss that Mortal's eyes
Who hopes to see fair Arcady?
No gold can buy you entrance there;
But beggared Love may go all bare—
No wisdom won with weariness;
But love goes in with Folly's dress—
No fame that wit could ever win;
But only Love may lead Love in.
To Arcady, to Arcady.
-

segunda-feira, 15 de dezembro de 2014

...To retain the spirit-world of childhood

Beatrix Potter, The Rabbits’ Christmas Party’ (c. 1890)
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"I remember I used to half believe and wholly play with fairies when I was a child. What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood, tempered and balanced by knowledge and common-sense."
-
Beatrix Potter (via Myth & Moor).

sábado, 13 de dezembro de 2014

Da esperança

Ernest Biéler (via Pinterest)
-
«The transformation of despair into hope is alchemical work, creative work. And what all transformations have in common, writes Rebecca Solnit, is that they begin in the imagination.
"To hope is to gamble," she says. "It's to bet on the future, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty are better than gloom and safety. To hope is dangerous, and yet it is the opposite of fear, for to live is to risk. I say all this to you because hope is not like a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. I say this because hope is an ax you break down doors with in an emergency; because hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from annihilation of the earth's treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal. Hope just means another world might be possible, not promised, not guaranteed. Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.
-
Via Myth & Moor (os "negritos" são meus)

sexta-feira, 12 de dezembro de 2014

Livros

Eva Navarro (via Reading and Art)
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«Mais amargamente porém me lembro da noite historica em que, no meu quarto, moido e molle d'um passeio a Versalhes, com as palpebras poeirentas e meio adormecidas, tive de desalojar do meu leito, praguejando, um pavoroso Diccionario de Industria em trinta e sete volumes! Senti então a suprema fartura do livro. Ageitando, com murros, os travesseiros, maldisse a Imprensa, a Facundia humana... E já me estirára, adormecia, quando topei, quasi parti a preciosa rotula do joelho, contra a lombada d'um tomo que velhacamente se aninhára entre a parede e os colchões. Com furor e um berro empolguei, arremessei o tomo affrontoso - que entornou o jarro, inundou um tapete rico de Daghestan. E nem sei se depois adormeci - porque os meus pés, a que não sentia nem o pisar nem o rumor, como se um vento brando me levasse, continuaram a tropeçar em livros no corredor apagado, depois na areia do jardim que o luar branqueava, depois na Avenida dos Campos-Elyseos, povoada e ruidosa como n'uma festa civica. E, oh portento! todas as casas aos lados eram construidas com livros. Nos ramos dos castanheiros ramalhavam folhas de livros. E os homens, as finas damas, vestidos de papel impresso, com titulos nos dorsos, mostravam em vez de rosto um livro aberto, a que a brisa lenta virava docemente as folhas. Ao fundo, na Praça da Concordia, avistei uma escarpada montanha de livros, a que tentei trepar, arquejante, ora enterrando a perna em flacidas camadas de versos, ora batendo contra a lombada, dura como calhau, de tomos de Exegese e Critica. A tão vastas alturas subi, para além da terra, para além das nuvens, que me encontrei, maravilhado, entre os astros. Elles rolavam serenamente, enormes e mudos, recobertos por espessas crostas de livros, d'onde surdia, aqui e além, por alguma fenda, entre dois volumes mal juntos, um raiosinho de luz suffocada e anciada. E assim ascendi ao Paraiso. Decerto era o Paraiso - porque com meus olhos de mortal argila avistei o Ancião da Eternidade, aquelle que não tem Manhã nem Tarde. N'uma claridade que d'elle irradiava mais clara que todas as claridades, entre fundas estantes d'ouro abarrotadas de codices, sentado em vetustissimos folios, com os flocos das infinitas barbas espalhados por sobre resmas de folhetos, brochuras, gazetas e catalogos - o Altissimo lia. A fronte super-divina que concebera o Mundo pousava sobre a mão super-forte que o Mundo creára - e o Creador lia e sorria. Ousei, arrepiado de sagrado horror, espreitar por cima do seu hombro coruscante. O livro era brochado, de tres francos... O Eterno lia Voltaire, n'uma edição barata, e sorria.»
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Eça de Queirós, A Cidade e as Serras.

quinta-feira, 11 de dezembro de 2014

Resiliência

Wassily Kandinsky, Fragile (1931, Musée des Beaux Arts, Nantes)
-
«The greatest glory in living
lies not in never falling,
but in rising every time we fall.»
-

quarta-feira, 10 de dezembro de 2014

Neve

Toshi Yoshida, Aspen (1973)
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«"Do you hear the snow against the windowpanes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.' And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and dance about - whenever the wind blows - oh, that's very pretty!" cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands. "And I do so wish it was true! I'm sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown."»
-

terça-feira, 9 de dezembro de 2014

Branco? Frio... mas quase no Natal

Pyotr Konchalovsky, The tree in frost (1933)
-
Frost grows on the window glass, forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry.
Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition.
Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor.
In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . . But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.
-
Vera Nazarian (via The Dutchess)
-

sábado, 6 de dezembro de 2014

Hobbit...

(link)
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«If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.»
-
J. R. Tolkien, The Hobbit: or, There and Back Again (1937)

sexta-feira, 5 de dezembro de 2014

Caminhando...

Michael Sowa, On The Road
-
«The distance is nothing when one has a motive.»
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Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice.

quinta-feira, 4 de dezembro de 2014

Natureza

Jacob van Ruisdael, Road through Fields of Corn near the Zuider Zee (c. 1660-1662, Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid)
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«O que é fascinante na natureza é a correspondência entre a ordem microscópica e a desordem global, o contraste entre a organização, com as suas simetrias bem definidas, duma folha ou duma flor, e o desenvolvimento competitivo e aleatório dum campo de erva ou duma floresta. O crescimento orgânico da natureza é uma competição entre estas duas tendências, entre a regularidade da poupança de energia e a generalização da confusão ou caos entrópico (primeira e segunda lei da termodinâmica). Mas a percepção destas ordens e desordens depende da distância a que se coloca o observador (…). Vista de longe, a floresta exibe uma certa arquitectura de conjunto, mas com a aproximação a desordem instala-se para finalmente a ordem voltar a ser recuperada na intimidade do close-up».
-
Jorge Calado, «Documentos para artistas – As relações entre a fotografia e a pintura», p. 33, in Henriques, Ana de Castro, Castro, Catarina Maia e (coord.). 1993. Silva Porto 1850-1893: exposição comemorativa do centenário da sua morte. Lisboa: I.P.M..

quarta-feira, 3 de dezembro de 2014

De uma releitura: castanheiros

Georgia O'Keeffe, Autumn Trees - Chestnut Tree (1924)
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«―Mas aqui! Olha para aquelle castanheiro. Ha tres semanas que cada manhã o vejo, e sempre me parece outro... A sombra, o sol, o vento, as nuvens, a chuva, incessantemente lhe compõem uma expressão diversa e nova, sempre interessante. Nunca a sua frequentação me poderia fartar...
Eu murmurei:
―É pena que não converse!
O meu Principe recuou, com olhares chammejantes, d'Apostolo:
―Como que não converse? Mas é justamente um conversador sublime! Está claro, não tem ditos, nem parola theorias, ore rotundo. Mas nunca eu passo junto d'elle que não me suggira um pensamento ou me não desvende uma verdade...»
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Eça de Queirós, A Cidade e as Serras (1901)

terça-feira, 2 de dezembro de 2014

Escrever ao Pai Natal

Wuanita Smith, Girl and Friends Writing Letters, illustration for The Christmas Letter (c. 1905–1907, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston)
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«Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said: "one can't believe impossible things."
"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."»
-

segunda-feira, 1 de dezembro de 2014