Kyrie Iesou Christé, Yie tou Theou, eleison me ton armatolon
K'shoshana bein ha-chochim
Druga bješe prozračna ideja
izvajana na kristalni šator -
svemoguća poezija tvorca,
okrunjena krunom tvorenija;
sve krasote koje biće ima
i um tvorca sjajni, bespredjelni
koje vidi u carstvo svjetlosti
pod tom krunom bjehu okrunjene,
na tom licu bjehu izražene
u sjajnosti svetog sovršenstva.
Plan nebesah pred sobom gledaše
i prelesti pravilnoga vkusa.
Since 2008 Vaseljena je blogoslovljena!
Da ponosni, Care, nepodnošljivo svjesni tvog iluminantnog prisustva, ne manje.
HEC FONS NEMPE SUMIT INFIRMOS, UT REDDAT ILLUMINATOS.
O voi che avete gl’intelleti sani,
Mirate la dottrina che s’asconde
Sotto il velame delli versi strani!
Da bi se razumio ovaj težak post prethodno je potrebno upoznati izuzetnog američkog slikara, Chrisa Marsa. Jedno od njegovih djela reproducirao sam post, dva niže, iznad patetične i fake storije o potrazi za istinom po ludnicam i zatvorima. Ovo je umjetnički statementChrisa Marsa, njegov simbol:
I learned it first from my Brother. He didn’t teach me; I watched it. They will pin a word on your chest and use it against you. They will create a word that’s excuse to take your humanity away. I saw it happen to him.
And everyday, this: A word to make you serve, and one to make grateful for it. There is a label out there just for you. This will make you easier to catergorize, and sell to. There is a word for the man next to you that makes you comfortable with the fact that you have so much more than he does. There is a word for you that tells you what to settle for.
There are the voiceless, who cannot speak for themselves. These are the easiest ones to shrink down. There are words for the non-conformers, simple words that can be quickly acknowledged by those that buy in. Crazy. Faggot. Gang. Rich. One is sinful, one is lazy, one is violent by nature and one is always, always good enough.
It’s such a precious thing that no one wants you to have it. You can’t be trusted with it. It’s such a delicate thing that it turns to something different in different hands. They might bury it but you can dig it up. You are strong enough for the Truth.
From my hands, my mission: To free the oppressed; to champion the persecuted, and the submissive; to liberate through revelation the actualized Self in those proposed by some to have no self at all. It’s in every single one of us, somewhere underneath that word on our chest.
In my hands, my version: All art is political in some sense, be it through conformity, reflection, propaganda or rebellion. My paintings are rallies and trials, photographs of a moment when Truth was made public, and Mercy known. Question why a villain is villainized, a victim martyred. Ask why a group is demonized, and the motives for control. See for yourself what the truth looks like in your hands. Dig it up and hold it for a while. This work you see, it’s my Truth. But please don’t take my word for it.
When my brother "Bill" was fifteen years old, he was institutionalized for schizophrenia. He saw things, he heard things. Were these monsters? Was he?
Through some thirty year of his treatment, he encountered compassionate souls, both fellows and caregivers. He was also neglected and exploited by individuals and a system more interested in commerce and statistics than his very well-being. Were these exploiters monsters? He was fifteen. I was five. I went to see him. Did he see monsters? Or did I?
Let me tell you something about Monsters. I have great empathy toward Monsters, or more accurately, Perceived Monsters. To me, Monsters are more like misfits, people who are physically deformed, or rather, uniquely formed (as indeed we all are, each of us); or, people who are mentally on a different plane than the majority. By this definition, might I be speaking even of you? I am sympathetic toward Perceived Monsters, because I have known and loved perceived monsters, and have felt this way myself.
There are Real Monsters that walk this earth, cruel, evil people; oppressive, dehumanizing beliefs. I despise by Real Monsters, because of their nature and their acts; and because of a public willingness to have this label, "Monster", shared between those that are "different" and those that are evil. The word Monster in its original application describes a child born with a physical deformity. What does it mean that our society has taken this word now to mean "evil"? Where is that leap between appearances, either physical or emotional, and the specifically dark nature of one's soul? All of this speaks of a shallowness I seek to conquer. My work is about looking beyond the outer to the inner, and finding with this the true definition of Beauty - which is beyond form.
I use conventional vehicles such as light and composition and technique to invite the audience to my work. I use these conventional vehicles to specifically lure the viewer into my world, which is a direct product of the World, where Angels can be mistaken for Monsters, and actual Monsters for heroes or kings.
So look closely at my work, look hard. Because I'm trying to show you something beautiful.
The imagery that is my work stems from the very strong visual and emotional impact of growing up in a family marked by mental illness. My eldest brother "Bill" suffers from schizophrenia. Bill experienced his first pronounced episode at age 16, and was immediately institutionalized. As a result, I acquired an early and lasting fear that if you are not one of society’s "Normal" members, then you are likely to be labeled, whisked embarrassingly away from your family, stripped of your freedom, dred and humiliated. Bill was hospitalized on and off throughout my childhood and adolescent years. The seemingly medieval hospital visuals etched into my consciousness, along with the trauma of my brother being repeatedly taken from us. The sights, sounds and smells I experienced as a small child visiting him there are prevalent throughout my work.
As a child, I found identity with the monsters depicted in film and books. I believed I knew the unfortunates hunted by the angry mobs, the freaks who fall victim to a gang mentality which harbors ignorance. I believed I knew the deep lack of understanding plaguing these monsters. I connected here, and began with these symbols to wrestle the issues concerning my brother’s illness. Here, I could champion him. And so, this theme announces itself in my work now. I want people to consider the beauty that lives beneath the veneer of my troubled figures and faces. Through my work, it is my intention to bring these souls forward as a symbol of and a memorial to the many who live with mental illness, those who are labeled and thereby limited by some flaw that is in truth only a fraction of what that whole person is about.
In each piece, I am freeing my brother. I am creating a monument to him and those like him. I rescue Bill from the oppressive institutions of the 1960s, the stereotypes of society here today. Through my work, I challenge the cultural system that finds it easier to turn their heads, their hearts, away. I urge the viewer to consider the beauty, on a grand level, of that which may appear ugly at first.
As the environment defines the disease, so the environment defines my work. Pastel, paint, clay all speak in my work with a voice unique to them. The very surface on which I work is an environment which defines the materials I apply to them. I use colors designed to attract, forcing the eye towards the image, towards the people who live within it. Often, a city or grouping of buildings in the distance serves to symbolize the outsider status of the families which populate my work.
As an adult I can comprehend mental illness, even the need to institutionalize people. But as a child, my brother’s schizophrenia was met with horror, depression, confusion and fear: Fear of the system, fear of the words, the hospitals, the demons others saw. Fear that it would happen to me next. Through my own need to create, to communicate, I have gained through my work an understanding and insight into these early, lasting, and tragic events. I am continually compelled to explore this.
During my visits to the hospitals, looking into my brothers eyes, I knew so much more than the clinicians did. I knew the depth of this person, what made him laugh, his interests, what he was proud of. But what I could only and can only imagine is the hardship, confusion, embarrassment and despair that he suffered from being so singled out by a disease that at the time, they knew so much less about. Through my work, I try to understand this. I try to show my love. This is what I seek to share with you.
O LJUDIMA BEZ DUŠE
nemoj, bre, o Siouxie da me ucis, majke ti.
a ni o glasovima kod disneya.
sve drugo moze.
a sta nije divna kaa? ja bih joj se pustila.
Čuj, Njetočka, nije to bilo napisano da bih te podučio ičemu, jer nisam ja ovdje iz milosrđa, nego da se ispostave čudne podudarnosti: kad već moram biti bezobrazan, još ću ih jednom istaknuti: čovjek koji je dao glas Češirskoj mački pjevao je pjesmicu Kaa, a Siouxie je izvodi na albumu koji opet zatvara krug s Alisom! Čudno, zar ne?
Ali, jedno ću ti ipak kazati: kad si se već stala na zadnje noge, vidi, Njetočka, o omiljenim vokalnoinstrumentalnim sastavima nema tko što koga učiti, ali, kad bi baš jebali mater istinu, morali bi kazati da je to muzika moje, a ne tvoje mladosti: ja sam bio njena ciljna skupina, meni - mojoj generaciji - je pjevala tih kasnih sedamdesetih i počektom osamdesetih! Ja sam naime, ni kriv ni dužan, jasno, uletio u pucanj novoga vala i kad je prvi put pjevala Izrael i kad je prvi put pjevala Nigh Shift, nama je pjevala. Kuiš? Vi ste još kopali nos i mijenjali čarobne kuglice slamnigove za neke druge pikse, kamenjarke recimo. Ako si pak i ti tih godina bila teenager, sorry, mislio sam da si mlađa.
Mada, sve to skupa nije više važno. Kao što sam napisao kod Kizze, idem ja drugovi i drugarice i možda se vidimo sljedeće zime. Svizac nije vidio svoju sjenu i gotovo je.
Njetočka, pusica, i do nekog drugog i drukčijeg bloggiranja, kiss i pozz!
Čan Li, velim da se ne kanim baviti podrumima tvoje podsvijesti, ali vidim da u njima čami želja da ostanem: s kim bi ti razgovarao da mene nema!? Stari, nema veze ovo pretproljetno buđenje i odlazak u prirodu s tobom: stara je škola učila prirodu i društvo, i kad ti ne paše drugo, još uvijek ti ostaje prvo. A, k tome, i vrijeme je: koji ću kurac za ovako lijepih dana na blogu?
Dakle, ne počinji s paranojom: ne događa se, zaista se ne odvija baš sve na svijetu s tobom u vezi!
Jednostavno, kao što i sam vidiš, ovdje svi imaju trajan PMS: na pjesmicu za laku noć ja uzvratim zgodnom opaskom o čudnim, čudnim podudarnostima, ali, to je i opet dobra prilika za prijekor! Nema smisla, očito je nešto u zraku: nije se prespavao zimski san, pretoplo je, što li!?
Nego, jesi li otišao na stranice Chrisa Marsa? Dolje, ostavio sam ti link. Klikni. Pogledaj što čovjek radi. Pročitaj i što on to slika i zašto slika. Vjerujem da si poneku od tih slika, doduše ne na netu, već vidio.
U svakom slučaju, želim ti dobar život!
najdrazi nemanja u one davne dane dok je lebićada bacala more preko zidića kojeg bezdusni ljudi namjeravaju srusiti, a zvona svetog Frane divljala, u mojoj je glavi siouxie pjevala najdrazu mi pjesmu (kako onda tako i danas):
Hanging from your daisy chains
Swinging in the trees
Running from your enemies
And falling on your knees
On your knees (on your knees, on your knees)
Get down on your knees
Throw the dice
You three blind mice
Did you ever see
Such a thing in your life
You swallow the trail
But still arrive
Inside your entrails
Hanging out at party games
Dancing in the shadows
Up and down on the see-saw
Balancing the scales
Yet you're balancing the scales
Someone to blame
Someone to shame
Someone who you can claim
Go back the to pass the parcel
And follow the leader
Hanging from your climbing frames
Swinging in the gallows
Laughing with your buddies
But you can drown when you're shallow
You can drown....
krivo si me shvatio, ono je bilo napisano u uzbudjenju ponovne podudarnosti, jer hej, oboje smo svjesni cudesnog glasa zmije kaa, češirske mačke, ali, najveće li perverzije, i Winnie the Pooha (koji, definitivno, nije my kind of guy).
a malo sam bila i žalosna sto me više ne voliš. jer nemanja, ja sam te zavolela ko brata.
ne idi nemanja. ne idi, ne idi, neeee.
naravno, nije mi se pejstao naslov pjesme, ali ću sad to da rešim. pjesma se zove... PLAYGROUND TWIST
Točkice, naravno da te volim. Zapravo, sad shvaćam da bismo mogli biti i vršnjaci. Pjesma, točnije sintagma koja je obilježila moj život i koju ne samo da izgovaram već dvadesetak godina, nego je oznaka vrlo, vrlo bitnih entiteta (sorry, ali uskoro, nakon zagrade, dolazi olakšanje!) koji uzimaju udjela u mome životu, jest Night shift:
My night shift sisters
Await your nightly visitor
They don’t bother me
No they don’t bother me
Naime, iz nekog ne odviše tajanstvenog razloga ja sam spojio ovo night shift s visitor, i to u množini, i te kasnonoćne vizitacije spominjem cijeli život: night shift visitors.
Točkice: Kad bi Kaa bila ti, i ja bih joj se prepustio.
Hvala za Villiersa, i sve ostalo. Pozdrav i sretno!
Vertebrata, drago mi je da ti se Villiers svidio. Hvala!
Vertebrate...nije tipfeler...čitao sam tvoj blog, točnije prelistao sam ga: Vatra, pozitivisti, Russell, Keith*...vidim da ću imati što raditi ovih dana. Još jednom, hvala tebi, ovaj put za sve ostalo.
Tonkica Palonkica se drži preporučenog joj Smullyana: Ja nisam praznovjerna, praznovjerje donosi nesreću!, pa u skladu s tim paradoksalnim naukom eufemiz(ni)zira Bardov komad, kako se pristoji tradiciji. O toj legendi o izgovaranju Machbeta u teatru kao prokletstvu trebalo bi napisati post.
A propos Barda, ljubavi, jesi li slušala nove 'Tuxedomoone', Bardo Hotel Soundtrack? Ako želiš, sutra ti šaljem par stvari pa ako ti se svidi, kod Dinka, u Toliku, Ilica 36, od prije par dana možeš kupiti album (reklamiram ga jer ima zaista samo nekoliko primjeraka albuma, baš kao i Tweedles, 'The Residentsa'). O naslovu albuma 'Tuxedomoona' možda nije na odmet sljedeća informacija: The record’s title refers in part to the bardo, according to Tibetan Buddhism an intermediate state between living and death. “In the bardo,” a study on Buddhism tells us, “the subtle consciousness undergoes all manner of extremely vivid experiences both intensely horrific and vastly peaceful.”
The title refers even more directly to a rundown Paris hotel with no name, where a group of Beat writers set up residence in the late 1950s. It was there that William Burroughs and Brion Gysin developed the “cut-up/fold-in” technique, which Burroughs would launch upon the literary world with Naked Lunch. Gysin would refer to the place in his memoirs as the “Beat Museum/Bardo Hotel.”
O The Residentsima sam već pisao (ovo je iskren zapis, barem u početku, s iznenađujućim krajem):
Dosta su oni meni zla napravili. Šta je previše, previše je! Vidi šta oni rade po svetu:
"Fate had again stepped in and The Residents saw no reason not to have a look at the studio. The group boarded a jet for Bucharest in early 2006 with the idea of recording a couple of tracks while taking a nice vacation in a country they had never visited. Since no ideas had been formed in advance as to what would be recorded, they felt it was appropriate to record everything during the trip, including the jet's take off. Once on the plane and bored, ideas started coming and soon The Residents were roughing out an idea for a whole album.
The group's ultimate destination was not Bucharest, but a town 400 kilometers away, Hunedoara. Hunedoara is in the area of Romania known as Transylvania, historically the home of Count Vlad III, fictionalized by Bram Stoker as the vampire Dracula. By the time they landed in Bucharest, they had outlined an album about a "vampire" of sorts. Not a Bela Lugosi vampire, but one that feasted on broken hearts; a man who devoured the romantic emotions of others as a source of power. A man who took the stance that anyone who would stoop so low as to love him was not worth loving in return. As it turned out, the group fell in love with Hunedoara and as they produced their story of sexual compulsion, their impromptu recordings of street musicians, church bells and a small traveling circus with its strong Felliniesque presence, soon made it into their electronic pieces. The Residents' product manager at Mute happened to be Romanian and he had connections with classical musicians in Bucharest."
Svašta! Šta sve ljudi neće da urade da budu u centru pažnje. (Nemanja 11.01.2007. 21:31) A man who took the stance that anyone who would stoop so low as to love him was not worth loving in return. Dakle, fatalni muškarac! Ekvivalent femme fatale. Drakula kao l'homme fatal!
U srce motiva, ovdje nije pretjerano kazati. (Nemanja 11.01.2007. 21:57)
Vertebrata, jesi li zapamtio rečenicu (nemam prezentan tekst pa ću žrtvovati slovo duhu, što u Villiersovom slučaju zvuči profano i plebejski, kao da o Velikom Meštru pričam u pol bijela dana) o onome što bi bio Villiar raison d'etre? U naslovnoj priči, Le convive des dernieres fetes, to je ona velika, složena, vijugava, a tako logična i rafinirana rečenica o tome kako on, kao kad u kazalištu pristustvujemo nekom komadu napisanom u zamornom stilu i predvidljivoga sadržaja ostajući unatoč tome sjediti u sredini reda tek da svojim odlaskom ne remetimo mir uzvanika, živi, u jednu riječ, iz uljudnosti.
Nemanja LJUDI BEZ DUŠE
Price: Let oko kukavičjeg gnijezda kruženje je oko ničega!
Nekoć davno, Vanja Sutlić je kazao da bi cijeli svoj opus dao za Cesarićevu pjesmu "Poludjela ptica". Vanju ili nisu shvaćali - njegovu filozofiju - ili ga nisu shvaćali ozbiljno - poklič: Indijanci dolaze! - a u ovoj je opasci o Cesariću, koja je ostala do dan danas neshvaćena, sažet sav njegov filozofijski i misaoni i životni napor: tko se u 'Biti i suvremenosti' (Vanjina inačica Sein und Zeit) poduhvati Bewusstseina, ubrzo će doći na metaforu Poludjele ptice:
Kakvi to glasi cuju se u mraku,
Nad nocnim poljem, visoko u zraku?
Ko li to pjeva? Ah, nista, sitnica:
Jedna u letu poludjela ptica.
Nadlijece sebe i oblake trome,
S vjetrom se igra i pjeva o tome.
Svu svoju vjeru u krilima noseci,
Kuda to leti, sto bi htela doseci?
Nije li vrijeme da gnijezdo vije?
Kad bude hladno, da se u njem grije.
Ko li te posla pjevati u tminu?
Sleti u nizu, u bolju sudbinu.
Ne mari za to poludjela ptica.
Pjeva o vjetru, sto je svu golica.
A kad je umor jednom bude shrvo,
Nece za odmor nać nijedno drvo
Dragi moj Price, to je Let iznad kukavičjeg gnijezda: nemoj se ljutiti, ali s tvojom dušom nije problem njena bolest, nego, kako veli Heraklit, badava ljudima i oči i uši, kad imaju barbarske duše: ti si u svom nasilništvu pomislio da je poanta u kukavičluku, a riječ je o tome da kukavice nemaju svoja gnijezda, da je let iznad kukavičjeg gnijezda nadlijetanje sebe, vrtoglavo oblijetanje oko Ničega!
Tko pokuša posredovati Svijest i Bitak, uskoro će se naći u sličnom kovitlacu, znao je Vanja Sutlić! Vjerojatno stoga lavovski dio knjige posvećuje Ničemu.
Veliki Vanja Sutlić: u samo jednom jedinom djelu stigao je iskusiti sve što se uopćem može misliti!
Mi smo zaista svinje: umire Cipra, i jedva da će itko za njega i znati, a napisao je čitavu jednu Filozofiju, a ne Metamorfoze metafizike!
Bio jednom jedan Sutlić, ali koga to u ovoj geačkoj zemlji zanima.
I Pejovića je Heidegger zvao 'bistro zrno s Balkana', ali evo, to zna par nas, Parnas.
Umjesto da ih čitaju, današnji Gaju i Kangrgu i onog velikog Grlića ogovaraju; sitne duše.
Kako bi Eco kazao: možda smo mi i gore: ljudi bez duše!
Zato i imamo ložu: jer za nas ne vrijedi psihologija, nego para-psihologija.
Ljudi bez duše!
GEORGE W. BUSH, THEOLOGIAN.
“We will never show weakness in the face of these people who have no soul” *
The Stunning, a 90s era rock band from Galway in Ireland. One of their most powerful songs is Men Without Souls which is a condemnation of those who promoted terror in Northern Ireland.
"Men without souls
The whole world is filled with them
Dragging their filth with them
Madmen will kill for them
Their mothers will feel for them
Men without souls"
* Perhaps Bush is simply refering to the Akh, in which case he could almost be excused, as dealing with Egyption Eschatological models is befuddling for even Egyptologists, let alone layfolk. However, if he is refering to their Ka, than, as I understand it, this is a serious insult. But our dear Leader wouldn't dish outinsults, especially elaborate, backhanded Egyptian insults, would he?
In Egyptian mythology, the human soul is made up of seven parts: the Ren, Sekhem, the Akh, the Ba, the Ka, the Sheut, and the Sekhu. During life, the soul, including those of animals, and of gods, was thought to inhabit a body (named the Ha (%Á), meaning flesh).
Egyptians thought of the Akh, Ba and Ka as immortal aspects of the soul. Yet, though it may sound paradoxial, these concepts could only survive if the body of the individual was preserved properly. The Ba for example could not return to the body if it was rotten and unrecognizable and therefore was to roam around forever, hence the mummification of deceased bodies. Ren (name)
A person's name (ren in Egyptian) was given to them at birth and would live for as long as that name was spoken, which explains why efforts were made to protect it, placing it in large amounts of writings. For example, part of the Book of Breathings, a descendant of the Book of the Dead, was for ensuring the survival of the name. A cartouche (magical rope) was often used to surround the name and protect it for eternity. Conversely, the names of deceased enemies of the state, such as Akhenaten, were studiously hacked out of monuments. Sekhem
The Sekhem is the Energy, Power, and Light of the person who has died. Ab
The Ab is the Egyptian concept of the heart and soul, the principal of seven souls believed to be carried in a life. It was believed to be a drop from the heart of the mother of a child at conception. It was typically portrayed as a person who is weighed by the goddess Ma'at after death. Akh
The Akh (meaning shiner), was a concept that varied over the long history of Egyptian belief. It was, at first, the unchanging unification of Ka and Ba, which united after the death of the physical body. In this sense, it was a sort of ghost. The Akh was then a part of the Akh-Akh, the panoply of Akhs from other people, gods and animals. In this system, it was the aspect of a person that would join the gods in the underworld being immortal and unchangeable.
In later belief, the Ka was considered to change into the Akh and Ba after death, rather than uniting with the Ba to become the Akh. At this stage, it was believed that the Akh spent some time dwelling in the underworld before returning and being reincarnated as a Ka, gaining a new Ba.
The separation of Akh / unification of Ka and Ba was created after death, by having the proper offerings made and knowing the proper efficacious spell, but there was an attendant risk of dying again. Egyptian funerary literature (such as the Coffin Texts and the Book of the Dead) were intended to aid the deceased in "not dying a second time" and becoming an akh.
Alternative: Khu. Ba (soul/personality)
The 'Ba' ('b3') is in some regards the closest to the Western notion of the soul, but it also was everything that makes an individual unique, similar to the notion of 'personality'. (In this sense, inanimate objects could also have a 'Ba', a unique character, and indeed Old Kingdom pyramids were often called the 'Ba' of their owner). Like a soul, the 'Ba' is a part of a person that lives after the body dies, and it is sometimes depicted as a human-headed bird flying out of the tomb to join with the 'Ka' in the afterlife.
As with humans, deities could also have 'Bau' (plural of Ba), but in the case of divine beings, it was even more associated with their 'impressiveness', 'power', and 'reputation'. When a god intervened in human affairs, it was said that the 'Bau' (plural of 'Ba') of the god were at work [Borghouts 1982]. In this regard, the king was regarded as a 'Ba' of a god, or one god was believed to be the 'Ba' of another. Ka (corporal presence/life force)
The Ka (k3) was the concept of life force, the difference between a living and a dead person, death occurring when the ka left the body. The Ka was thought to be created by Khnum on a potter's wheel, or passed on to children via their father's semen.
The Egyptians also believed that the ka was sustained through food and drink. For this reason food and drink offerings were presented to the dead, though it was the kau (k3w) within the offerings (also known as kau) that was consumed, not the physical aspect. The ka was often represented in Egyptian iconography as a second image of the individual, leading earlier works to attempt to translate ka as double.
Julian Jaynes in his theoretical work The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind sests that the "ka" originally was a hallucinated god-voice similar to that experienced in schizophrenia. According to his theory, most people were not fully conscious in the early ancient period, and hence his theory is regarded as fringe by the mainstream.
Giacomo Borioni proposes in his work "Der Ka aus religionswissenschaftlicher Sicht" that, according to Friedrich Junge, the Ka was the "self" of a human being. Sheut (shadow)
A person's shadow (šwt in Egyptian) was always present. A person could not exist without a shadow, nor the shadow without the person. The shadow was also proir to the soul of the living body, thus connected to death when life was deprived from it. The shadow was represented as a small human figure painted completely black as well as a figure of death, or servant of Anubis.
Alternative: Khaibit Sekhu
The remains of a person, the physical body.