04.11.2011., petak


Spanish Guitar Notes. Best Bass Guitar For Beginner.

Spanish Guitar Notes

spanish guitar notes

    spanish guitar
  • The classical guitar — (sometimes called the "Spanish guitar" or "nylon string guitar") — is a 6-stringed plucked string instrument from the family of instruments called chordophones.

  • The standard six-stringed acoustic guitar, used esp. for classical and folk music

  • "Spanish Guitar" is the third single from Toni Braxton's third studio album, The Heat (2000). Released in 2000, the song was written by Diane Warren and produced by David Foster, the same team behind Braxton's 1996 smash hit "Un-Break My Heart".

  • A brief record of facts, topics, or thoughts, written down as an aid to memory

  • (note) a brief written record; "he made a note of the appointment"

  • (note) a short personal letter; "drop me a line when you get there"

  • A short informal letter or written message

  • (note) make mention of; "She observed that his presentation took up too much time"; "They noted that it was a fine day to go sailing"

  • A short comment on or explanation of a word or passage in a book or article; an annotation



Title: Carnaval d'Arlequin

Date Made: 1924-1925

Artist: Joan Miro

Artist Bio: Spanish painter, printmaker, and ceramicist, 1893-1983

Materials & Techniques: oil on canvas

Dimensions: overall: 36 3/4 x 47 x 3 1/2 inches (93.35 x 119.38 x 8.89 cm)

Inscriptions: signature, dated, lower left, Miro. / 1924-25; signature, dated, back, Joan Miro / Carnaval d'Arlequin / 1924-25

Credit Line: Room of Contemporary Art Fund, 1940

Description from Albright-Knox Art Gallery: Painting and Sculpture from Antiquity to 1942

“Carnival of Harlequin” is one of the most familiar and appealing of Surrealist paintings. It was painted in Paris during the winter of 1924-25, the climactic work in a series in which the landscape and color of Miro’s native Catalonia were supplanted as primary influences by the painter’s private fantasies. Miro was later to describe this work as follows:

“The ball of yarn unraveled by the cats dressed up as Harlequins of smoke twisting about my entrails and stabbing them during the period of famine which gave birth to the hallucinations enregistered in this picture beautiful flowering of a fish in a poppy field noted on the snow of a paper throbbing like the throat of a bird at the contact of a woman’s sex in the form of a spider with aluminum legs returning in the evening to my home at 45 rue Blomet a figure which as far as I know has nothing to do with the figure 13 which has always exerted an enormous influence on my life by the light of an oil lamp fine haunches of a woman between the tuft of the guts and the stem with a flame which throws new images on the whitewashed wall at this period I plucked a knob from a safety passage which I put in my eye like a monocle gentleman whose foodless ears are fascinated by the flutter of butterflies musical rainbow eyes falling like a rain of lyres ladder to escape the disgust of life ball thumping against a board loathsome drama of reality guitar music falling stars crossing the blue space to pin themselves on the body of my mist which dives into the phosphorescent Ocean after describing a luminous circle” (1).

Though several other of the painter’s contemporaneous works have . . . been shown to have been based on specific texts by Surrealist poets whose company Miro frequently sought, no such source can be identified for “Carnival of Harlequin.” The title, however, may provide a clue to the meaning of this welter of whimsical detail. The character of Harlequin is familiar from the “Commedia dell’arte,” in which he plays a foolish clown, perpetually and almost always unsuccessfully, in love. Despite Miro’s own identification of the two cats with Harlequin, the bearded and mustachio-ed gentleman at the left in the painting sports Harlequin’s traditional mask, rounded “admiral’s” hat and diamond-patterned tunic. Carnival, in its strictest sense, refers to the merrymaking and revelry which precede the enforced abstinence of Lent. The prominent hole in Harlequin’s middle sests that his fasting has begun prematurely. Indeed, Miro wrote, “For Harlequin’s Carnival I made many drawings into which I put the hallucinations provoked by my hunger. In the evening I would come home without having eaten and put down my sensations on paper” (2).

The Harlequin as self-portrait of the artist is a long-established artistic tradition which Miro certainly knew, for example, from the work of Picasso. This painting is bisected vertically by a peculiar guitar-wielding female. It teems with symbols which have been shown to have explicit sexual reference for Miro. The large winged insect-like creature with a flamelike stem at the right is one of the many female silhouettes which Miro derived from the contours of a kerosene lamp. Harlequin’s woeful expression ironically belies the general riotous gaiety; he appears to suffer simultaneously from the pangs of unrequited hunger and the temptations of sestive apparitions which flit cheerfully but tantalizingly just out of reach.

Other details are no so easily explained. The cones, spheres and carpenter’s triangles may recall de Chirico, then a major influence on the early Surrealists. The multitude of eyes, familiar especially from Ernst, underline the Surrealist insistence on the artist as visionary or seer. Most interesting, perhaps, is the dice. It has been shown by some writers as an oblique homage to the poet Mallarme’s important “Le Coup de des” (3). However, here it functions also as a jack-in-the-box, alongside the central female who appears to be partly constructed of a spring and activated by a Dadaistic wheel, crank and key. It is perhaps more than coincidence that the French philosopher Henri Bergson, often read by the Surrealists, considered the human imitation of mechanical movement to lie at the core of comedy and that one of his images was the jack-in-the-box.

The canvas is very thinly paint



"I'm not comfortable with that," she says. "Honesty exposes vulnerability."

This might be a veritably intense meeting of words for anyone. I'm musing silently and passing notes to spanish guitar chords that'll untie knots in my veins. She has her favourite dress on made of all the colours of peace and bellowing knowledge but her feet are kept unwise in borrowing those shoes. My eyes must do naught but guide with genuine care and platonic gold; supporting to understand what they are and failing to possess in tide. Teaching will forever teach anyone who seeks, but that has spun itself another web and shall return again...

"I do not find that the vulnerability lies as much in honesty as it does with its opposite. Dishonesty provides us an absurd and blazenly wasteful outlet of experience because our actions will eventually be shattered and called for what they were and the chaos that's ensued since, in its sly tangents. Whether you want to believe in true truths or that the world is devoid of any external or internal or whatever one'd consider, truth in translation from you to I or I to you or anyone for the matter at hand does receive priceless value from me at least, in that being vulnerable to any person in our honesty gives nothing up of ourselves as lost or damaged except wherein if we allow each the other to damage our minds because we can't handle it..."

I felt a pause and stroked my chin. I haven't broken from her gaze for an instant, though I do much better to speak without eye contact -- not that I do not like it or even prefer it, oh, soulseeing enchanters, but they and their surroundings can become a distraction to my thought processes, thus I break from it and must accept that this will affect everyone differently, that some will catch on and accept in return that it's what I must do sometimes. // You're so beautifully patient... perhaps as patient as I. I can't mask this crooked elated smile or eyes that divulge to float into you... ...but I catch myself and recalculate in what I feel I should say.

"People waste so much time deceiving themselves, deceiving others --- utterly paltry... If that we are to choose to fear ourselves so much we should ruminate through futures and features before they align themselves to becoming judicious--

"It's not so simplistic," she snapped.


Heart of stone and bitten she rendered, once, "None say it the more, and still I find it so."

"and... so it is,"
abrupt curtain.

Neruda swam ashore, we'll whisk above til sunrise and some more.

spanish guitar notes

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