mercredi 28 décembre 2011
dimanche 11 décembre 2011
samedi 3 septembre 2011
jeudi 1 septembre 2011
Dédé La Fleur, Ouessant...
Trois ans cette semaine que j'ai perdu mon Dédé et pas une journée sans que nos éclats de rires ne traversent mon esprit...
Dédé, philosophe allumé et infiniment drôle me faisait tout relativiser dans de grands éclats de rires et d'interminables nuits à refaire le monde au pied du phare du Créac'h ou autour de sa table, passée l'heure de la fermeture de La Boulange, fameux bar de l'île d'Ouessant... Et ce, jusqu'au petit matin.
Je l'aimais fort, mon ami Dédé, et il restera à jamais ancré au plus profond de mon coeur...
From Dédé's backyard, Ouessant
J'ai écrit une chanson pour lui il y a quelques temps. Elle s'appelle "Absinthe & Morphine for breakfast ( Song for Dédé La Fleur, Ouessant )". Je la partage ici, en cliquant sur le lien ci-dessous:
Absinthe & Morphine for breakfast ( Song for Dédé La Fleur, Ouessant ) by Kensico
Dédé, philosophe allumé et infiniment drôle me faisait tout relativiser dans de grands éclats de rires et d'interminables nuits à refaire le monde au pied du phare du Créac'h ou autour de sa table, passée l'heure de la fermeture de La Boulange, fameux bar de l'île d'Ouessant... Et ce, jusqu'au petit matin.
Je l'aimais fort, mon ami Dédé, et il restera à jamais ancré au plus profond de mon coeur...
vendredi 19 août 2011
jeudi 9 juin 2011
I love her so much to love him so much whom I love so much...
Jacqueline Caux is an amazing woman whose biography deserves by itself that everyone interested in contemporary art, whether it is visual or musical, gives her a full attention...
On her website www.jacquelinecaux.com one can read this:
"Jacqueline Caux had realized several long documentaries movies and several short experimental movies selected in different festivals. Writer she had published some books of talks. She had participated for the organization of some new music festivals and realized “horspiels” for the French Radio France Culture."
I got to meet this brilliant and sensitive lady thanks to Pascal Humbert a dear friend that we have in common and who she portrayed in a documentary called "Désert Solitaire". I previously wrote about Lilium, which is Pascal's personal music project that he's been running for quite some times now...
Getting to know him and understand what moves him is a gift, though it is not necessary in order to fall in love with his incredibly beautiful music...But it surely opens some more doors to feel where it all comes from...
Here are a few words from her site to introduce the film:
"Portrait of French musician Pascal Humbert who played in bands : “Tanit”, “Passion Fodder”, “Sixteen Horse Power”, “Woven Hands”, and who, when he is not on tour, retires to live and compose in the Colorado Desert."
This is an excerpt of "Désert Solitaire" from Jacqueline Caux's website: http://www.jacquelinecaux.com/jacqueline/en/short-desert.php
On her website www.jacquelinecaux.com one can read this:
"Jacqueline Caux had realized several long documentaries movies and several short experimental movies selected in different festivals. Writer she had published some books of talks. She had participated for the organization of some new music festivals and realized “horspiels” for the French Radio France Culture."
I got to meet this brilliant and sensitive lady thanks to Pascal Humbert a dear friend that we have in common and who she portrayed in a documentary called "Désert Solitaire". I previously wrote about Lilium, which is Pascal's personal music project that he's been running for quite some times now...
Getting to know him and understand what moves him is a gift, though it is not necessary in order to fall in love with his incredibly beautiful music...But it surely opens some more doors to feel where it all comes from...
Here are a few words from her site to introduce the film:
"Portrait of French musician Pascal Humbert who played in bands : “Tanit”, “Passion Fodder”, “Sixteen Horse Power”, “Woven Hands”, and who, when he is not on tour, retires to live and compose in the Colorado Desert."
This is an excerpt of "Désert Solitaire" from Jacqueline Caux's website: http://www.jacquelinecaux.com/jacqueline/en/short-desert.php
vendredi 27 mai 2011
samedi 2 avril 2011
Andreï Tarkovsky : The only condition of fighting for the right to create is faith in your own vocation, readiness to serve, and refusal to compromise.
An artist never works under ideal conditions. If they existed, his work wouldn`t exist, for the artist doesn`t live in a vacuum. Some sort of pressure must exist. The artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn`t look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world. This is the issue in Andrey Rublyov (1969). Andrei Tarkovsky
lundi 21 mars 2011
Lilium - Pure and raw beauty
Lilium
Difficult to write about Lilium's music...I guess, it just needs to be listened to and felt...
Each of the three records is intense and deeply moving...their pure and raw beauty is, indeed, far beyond words...
Lilium is profoundly rooted inside my heart.
www.myspace.com/liliummusic
Whitewashed ( Short Stories )
Sleeping inside ( Transmission Of All The Goodbyes )
Mama Bird ( Felt )
The records can be found here, clicking on the link... Glitterhouse Records
Difficult to write about Lilium's music...I guess, it just needs to be listened to and felt...
Each of the three records is intense and deeply moving...their pure and raw beauty is, indeed, far beyond words...
Lilium is profoundly rooted inside my heart.
www.myspace.com/liliummusic
Sleeping inside ( Transmission Of All The Goodbyes )
Mama Bird ( Felt )
The records can be found here, clicking on the link... Glitterhouse Records
mardi 8 février 2011
Louise Bourgeois
"...My emotions are inappropriate to my size, my emotions are my demons (...) It is not the emotions themselves, it is the intensity of the emotions that are much too much for me to handle..."
Louise Bourgeois: The Spider, The Mistress and The Tangerine ( Trailer )
Louise Bourgeois: The Spider, The Mistress and The Tangerine ( Trailer )
dimanche 6 février 2011
-The Scarlatti Tilt-
"It's very hard to live in a studio apartment in San Jose with a man
who's learning to play the violin."
That's what she told the police when she handed them the empty revolver.
( Richard Brautigan, Revenge of the Lawn: Stories 1962-1970 )
who's learning to play the violin."
That's what she told the police when she handed them the empty revolver.
( Richard Brautigan, Revenge of the Lawn: Stories 1962-1970 )
-Attila József-
Un cœur pur renversé sous les rails de la vie....
Je ne veux qu'un lecteur pour mes poèmes :
Celui qui me connaît - celui qui m'aime -
Et, comme moi dans le vide voguant,
Voit l'avenir inscrit dans le présent.
Car lui seul a pu, toute patience,
Donner une forme humaine au silence ;
car en lui seul on peut voir comme en moi
S'attarder tigre et gazelle à la fois.
**********
Silence.
Il s’étale, effrayant : c’est la mer murmurante,
C’est un champ infini de toutes parts neigeux.
C’est la Mort déguisé attrapant mes cheveux,
Chagrine et qui fait peur. La Mort caracolante.
Je dépose à ses pieds mon âme pantelante.
Mon cœur bat-il encor ? Je l’écoute, anxieux.
Musique monotone… et pourtant - justes cieux ! -
J’aime l’entendre vivre au sein de ma tourmente.
Je marche, dirait-on, sur un frêle terrain.
Quand le sol se défait sous mon pied incertain,
Je prétends résister comme fou qui s’éveille.
Puis je baisse la tête au comble de l’émoi.
Car la vase, déjà, vient boucher mon oreille.
Interdit, je me rends. Qu’adviendra-t-il de moi ?
**********
Brume et Silence.
J’ai cessé d’attendre la vie.
J’existe donc comme je puis.
Si je ne puis, je n’en ai cure.
Si les jours sont nombreux, ils durent.
Le soleil déserte mes yeux,
Seule la lampe m’est un feu.
La flamme s’éteint, le sang coule.
On a des réserves en foule.
Mes agresseurs, je les épargne.
Je ne rends ni pitié ni hargne.
Que se réjouissent tous ces chiens :
Point ne sens la faim qui me tient.
J’avais vécu quelque incidence
Qui n’était ni mort ni patience.
De coups de pied on m’a rué,
Mais je tenais bon sans jurer.
Le brouillard, je l’ai vu derrière
Mille éblouissantes lumières.
Et j’ai entendu qu’au-delà
Du grand fracas de mon combat,
Qu’en haut, en bas, l’on mène danse,
Ne reste au pauvre que silence.
Brume et silence n’ont d’éclat,
Brume et silence, me voilà !
Aveugle, un fossé happera
Ce qui tâtonne dedans moi.
Châtiment terrible, inhumain ;
Attendons, attendons sa fin.
Nombreux les gens que cela vexe,
Jusqu’à ce qu’un tel crie, perplexe,
D’un fond de silence et de brume,
Sa voix montant jusqu’à la lune,
Jusqu’à la peste ! Et, par ce cri
De l’horreur, tout sera maudit :
Le chien et son maître à la fois,
En commençant, bien sûr, par moi.
Je ne veux qu'un lecteur pour mes poèmes :
Celui qui me connaît - celui qui m'aime -
Et, comme moi dans le vide voguant,
Voit l'avenir inscrit dans le présent.
Car lui seul a pu, toute patience,
Donner une forme humaine au silence ;
car en lui seul on peut voir comme en moi
S'attarder tigre et gazelle à la fois.
**********
Silence.
Il s’étale, effrayant : c’est la mer murmurante,
C’est un champ infini de toutes parts neigeux.
C’est la Mort déguisé attrapant mes cheveux,
Chagrine et qui fait peur. La Mort caracolante.
Je dépose à ses pieds mon âme pantelante.
Mon cœur bat-il encor ? Je l’écoute, anxieux.
Musique monotone… et pourtant - justes cieux ! -
J’aime l’entendre vivre au sein de ma tourmente.
Je marche, dirait-on, sur un frêle terrain.
Quand le sol se défait sous mon pied incertain,
Je prétends résister comme fou qui s’éveille.
Puis je baisse la tête au comble de l’émoi.
Car la vase, déjà, vient boucher mon oreille.
Interdit, je me rends. Qu’adviendra-t-il de moi ?
**********
Brume et Silence.
J’ai cessé d’attendre la vie.
J’existe donc comme je puis.
Si je ne puis, je n’en ai cure.
Si les jours sont nombreux, ils durent.
Le soleil déserte mes yeux,
Seule la lampe m’est un feu.
La flamme s’éteint, le sang coule.
On a des réserves en foule.
Mes agresseurs, je les épargne.
Je ne rends ni pitié ni hargne.
Que se réjouissent tous ces chiens :
Point ne sens la faim qui me tient.
J’avais vécu quelque incidence
Qui n’était ni mort ni patience.
De coups de pied on m’a rué,
Mais je tenais bon sans jurer.
Le brouillard, je l’ai vu derrière
Mille éblouissantes lumières.
Et j’ai entendu qu’au-delà
Du grand fracas de mon combat,
Qu’en haut, en bas, l’on mène danse,
Ne reste au pauvre que silence.
Brume et silence n’ont d’éclat,
Brume et silence, me voilà !
Aveugle, un fossé happera
Ce qui tâtonne dedans moi.
Châtiment terrible, inhumain ;
Attendons, attendons sa fin.
Nombreux les gens que cela vexe,
Jusqu’à ce qu’un tel crie, perplexe,
D’un fond de silence et de brume,
Sa voix montant jusqu’à la lune,
Jusqu’à la peste ! Et, par ce cri
De l’horreur, tout sera maudit :
Le chien et son maître à la fois,
En commençant, bien sûr, par moi.
jeudi 27 janvier 2011
L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze - Pierre-André Boutang (1996)
L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze - Pierre-André Boutang (1996) [PART 1]
The eight-hour series of interviews between Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, filmed by Pierre-André Boutang in 1988-1989. The individual episodes are "A comme Animal," "B comme Boisson," "C comme Culture," "D comme Désir," "E comme Enfance," "F comme Fidélité," "G comme Gauche," "H comme Histoire de la philosophie", "I comme Idée, "J comme Joie", "K comme Kant", "L comme Literature,"M comme Maladie,"N comme Neurologie", "O comme Opéra", "P comme Professeur", "Q comme question," "R comme Résistance", "S comme Style","T comme Tennis","U comme Un", "V comme Voyage", "W comme Wittgenstein, "X & Y comme inconnues," "Z comme Zigzag" (PART 1)
L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze - Pierre-André Boutang (1996) [PART 2]
Part 2 of the eight-hour series of interviews between Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, filmed by Pierre-André Boutang in 1988-1989. [PART 2]
I'm very thankful to the one who posted that on Google Video. This is a real gem...
The eight-hour series of interviews between Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, filmed by Pierre-André Boutang in 1988-1989. The individual episodes are "A comme Animal," "B comme Boisson," "C comme Culture," "D comme Désir," "E comme Enfance," "F comme Fidélité," "G comme Gauche," "H comme Histoire de la philosophie", "I comme Idée, "J comme Joie", "K comme Kant", "L comme Literature,"M comme Maladie,"N comme Neurologie", "O comme Opéra", "P comme Professeur", "Q comme question," "R comme Résistance", "S comme Style","T comme Tennis","U comme Un", "V comme Voyage", "W comme Wittgenstein, "X & Y comme inconnues," "Z comme Zigzag" (PART 1)
L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze - Pierre-André Boutang (1996) [PART 2]
Part 2 of the eight-hour series of interviews between Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, filmed by Pierre-André Boutang in 1988-1989. [PART 2]
I'm very thankful to the one who posted that on Google Video. This is a real gem...
lundi 24 janvier 2011
I Am Part Of The Load
I am part of the load
Not rightly balanced
I drop off in the grass,
like the old Cave-sleepers, to browse
wherever I fall.
For hundreds of thousands of years I have been dust-grains
floating and flying in the will of the air,
often forgetting ever being
in that state, but in sleep
I migrate back. I spring loose
from the four-branched, time -and-space cross,
this waiting room.
I walk into a huge pasture
I nurse the milk of millennia
Everyone does this in different ways.
Knowing that conscious decisions
and personal memory
are much too small a place to live,
every human being streams at night
into the loving nowhere, or during the day,
in some absorbing work.
Not rightly balanced
I drop off in the grass,
like the old Cave-sleepers, to browse
wherever I fall.
For hundreds of thousands of years I have been dust-grains
floating and flying in the will of the air,
often forgetting ever being
in that state, but in sleep
I migrate back. I spring loose
from the four-branched, time -and-space cross,
this waiting room.
I walk into a huge pasture
I nurse the milk of millennia
Everyone does this in different ways.
Knowing that conscious decisions
and personal memory
are much too small a place to live,
every human being streams at night
into the loving nowhere, or during the day,
in some absorbing work.
Rumi "We Are Three"
From: (Mathnawi, VI 216-227)
vendredi 21 janvier 2011
A bear is my muse...
Tehila it a wanji mato etaha mako skanl
"Treat each bear as the last bear"
Pata wanji mato oiha ke wanil
I sometimes fear that my muse is actually a mockingbird, hidden up in its tree, making fun of me by pretending to be that one bear I cherish...maybe my muse is made out of plastic and my words are vain...
No matter how deep my doubts are sometimes, no matter how these feelings bring out much sorrow in me....I'll keep treating that one bear as the last bear because I know I owe him much more that he'll ever be aware of...
"Treat each bear as the last bear"
Pata wanji mato oiha ke wanil
I sometimes fear that my muse is actually a mockingbird, hidden up in its tree, making fun of me by pretending to be that one bear I cherish...maybe my muse is made out of plastic and my words are vain...
No matter how deep my doubts are sometimes, no matter how these feelings bring out much sorrow in me....I'll keep treating that one bear as the last bear because I know I owe him much more that he'll ever be aware of...
jeudi 20 janvier 2011
What this is all about...
I don't feel like explaining or justifying much...this is about all I can express...
I can dance around naked in the middle of nowhere or in the middle of a crowd, it doesn't make much difference to me...I find it difficult to expose the reality and depth of my feelings...of what is really going on in my heart and soul...because only one has to know and that is all that matters to me.
This is probably why I tend to spit out my truth and lick my wounds, writing words to eventually end up singing them...and when I'm throwing my words at an audience, I could be undressed it wouldn't make any difference, still...people see what they want to see, hear what they want to hear...I know they will interpret it the way they feel...and I know they'll have a judgement, positive or negative but it is not my problem anymore. This sort of exhibitionism has been saving my life, so far...
There are so many brilliant artists, philosophers, thinkers, farmers, lonely souls, drunks, or whoever clever and gifted beings able to transcend the beauty of mankind when mankind is at its best...or at its worst which can be, sometimes, the best to me.
I am not an intellectual and certainly never pretended to be a good writer...but I'm curious and I need "food" to help myself finding ways to put words together, and sing them up, and dance in circles, dressed or naked...depending on the eye that one has on me...and how one understands or perceives what I'm trying to give...or selfishly trying to get rid of, without asking for anyone's permission.
Kensico
This is what I only have to share...all these brilliant or broken souls that make my heart beat and feed my solitary mind...
I can dance around naked in the middle of nowhere or in the middle of a crowd, it doesn't make much difference to me...I find it difficult to expose the reality and depth of my feelings...of what is really going on in my heart and soul...because only one has to know and that is all that matters to me.
This is probably why I tend to spit out my truth and lick my wounds, writing words to eventually end up singing them...and when I'm throwing my words at an audience, I could be undressed it wouldn't make any difference, still...people see what they want to see, hear what they want to hear...I know they will interpret it the way they feel...and I know they'll have a judgement, positive or negative but it is not my problem anymore. This sort of exhibitionism has been saving my life, so far...
There are so many brilliant artists, philosophers, thinkers, farmers, lonely souls, drunks, or whoever clever and gifted beings able to transcend the beauty of mankind when mankind is at its best...or at its worst which can be, sometimes, the best to me.
I am not an intellectual and certainly never pretended to be a good writer...but I'm curious and I need "food" to help myself finding ways to put words together, and sing them up, and dance in circles, dressed or naked...depending on the eye that one has on me...and how one understands or perceives what I'm trying to give...or selfishly trying to get rid of, without asking for anyone's permission.
Kensico
This is what I only have to share...all these brilliant or broken souls that make my heart beat and feed my solitary mind...
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