1. Esthétique du Mal (VII)


    How red the rose that is the soldier’s wound,
    The wounds of many soldiers, the wounds of all
    The soldiers that have fallen, red in blood,
    The soldier of time grown deathless in great size.

    A mountain in which no ease is ever found,
    Unless indifference to deeper death
    Is ease, stands in the dark, a shadow’s hill,
    And there the soldier of time has deathless rest.

    Concentric circles of shadows, motionless
    Of their own part, yet moving on the wind,
    Form mystical convolutions in the sleep
    Of time’s red soldier deathless on his bed.

    The shadows of his fellows ring him round
    In the high night, the summer breathes for them
    Its fragrance, a heavy somnolence, and for him,
    For the soldier of time, it breathes a summer sleep,

    In which his wound is good because life was.
    No part of him was ever part of death.
    A woman smoothes her forehead with her hand
    And the soldier of time lies calm beneath that stroke.


    (Wallace Stevens, 1944)

    [Poem is in the public domain in Canada]
    To view the complete poem, click here

    from Moments.Memoires http://ift.tt/1llNUdN

  2. only lovers left alive

    Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
    But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
    If this be error and upon me proved,
    I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

    from Moments.Memoires http://ift.tt/1j5SbR7

  3. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
    But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
    If this be error and upon me proved,
    I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

    (Source: Spotify)


  4. Windows

    … Those windows, opening towards the same sky.
    Windows that enclose personal stories
    Of an universe of people gathered
    In the same and common thought.
    The sky is only one. The same sky above us,
    Protecting us,
    That sky where ideas float,
    Where Man, once thought of becoming a bird,
    Where the power of wings, comes
    From the will and desire of connecting the world,
    Sharing, where he also becomes one,
    Like a mirror reflecting an ideal humanity, always
    But always,
    The same.

    from Moments.Memoires http://ift.tt/1m9owJi



  6. Herman Hesse // Steps

    As every blossom fades
    and all youth sinks into old age,
    so every life’s design, each flower of wisdom,
    attains its prime and cannot last forever.
    The heart must submit itself courageously
    to life’s call without a hint of grief,
    A magic dwells in each beginning,
    protecting us, telling us how to live.

    High purposed we shall traverse realm on realm,
    cleaving to none as to a home,
    the world of spirit wishes not to fetter us
    but raise us higher, step by step.
    Scarce in some safe accustomed sphere of life
    have we establish a house, then we grow lax;
    only he who is ready to journey forth
    can throw old habits off.

    Maybe death’s hour too will send us out new-born
    towards undreamed-lands,
    maybe life’s call to us will never find an end
    Courage my heart, take leave and fare thee well.

    Steps - Herman Hesse

    from Moments.Memoires http://ift.tt/1h1k9dK


  7. the ‘Ruined Paradise’ of Leo Herrera | Statement #gayhistory


    »>The 2014 Black Party film trailer A Ruined Paradise was created using documentary footage of Indian funeral rites and the Holi Festival of Colors. There are no gyrating male torsos or sex scenes; the only nudity is the preparation of the body of a man who died while meditating. These disturbing and powerful clips were purposefully left raw and unadorned, meant to invoke a mood to the event without the clichés of a circuit party promo. There have been questions and concerns about what they have to do with The Black Party and whether this is cultural appropriation. In order to comprehend what death, religion and subversive images have to do with The Black Party one must understand the event’s roots and its context in Gay history. The Black Party is the oldest event of its kind, it survived the AIDS epidemic, outliving most of its original attendees and has thrived through three decades of economic and political changes in Manhattan. Before AIDS had a name, it was christened, “Saint’s Disease” after the gay nightclub The Saint, the first home of The Black Party. The first Black Party poster, shot by Robert Mapplethorpe, featured a man in devil horns. Decades later, the snake from the Garden of Eden would be shown inside a man’s ass. Dark images of religion and sex, as well as mutilation, political unrest and medical nightmares have been part of the Black Party since its inception and have functioned as a reflection of the times. This film is part of that visual tradition, and its intention was not cultural appropriation but metaphor. The Ruined Paradise is not India. It is Roseland. It is Manhattan. Manhattan, our Ganges River, sacred, polluted, steeped in constant loss and change. For thirty five years, it has been the home of this tribal gathering. For twenty-four years only the palatial Roseland had the resources to host this event. As Roseland shuts down this year, it will close a chapter in the history of Black Party and the city itself, making the themes of death and resurrection more pertinent than ever. As Gay men, we have been denied a culture of our own for a very long time. Our community has been comprised of members with religions and cultures which did not accept us. We have historically depended on using the reflection of other cultures to tell our own stories. What does it mean, with our new visibility and political power, that we now have the luxury of a heated debate about cultural appropriation? Who in the Gay community has the right to reference other cultures in the context of a gay dance event? This film was meant to raise these questions and judging by community reaction, it has. Whether one agrees on how this film presented the themes of loss and celebration is a personal opinion, but what is undeniable is that as we face a fundamental change in the way we celebrate this event, these themes require a deep reflection. ” –
    Leo Herrera, March 2014

    from Moments.Memoires http://ift.tt/1cx72pb

  8. the so called digital art is everything…

    The effort begins by acknowledging that digital culture cannot simply be a label for culture made on a computer – everything is made on a computer – and that digital isn’t a medium. It is not video, or audio, or words that could have existed on videotape or in a book; and it isn’t a distribution channel such as YouTube or Tumblr. Digital is data-led and algorithmic (with potential for every output to be unique). Digital is generative (it builds upon itself and draws on its own process to create new expressions). Digital is contextual (leading, for example, to theatre that builds around you, in a timely and relevant way). And digital is collaborative (using the volume of the world to curate or create together).

    Read everything

    from Moments.Memoires http://ift.tt/1fisJZC

  9. loverofbeauty:

    lMerge (by QUEDEAR)


  10. When I think of this moment, I think of classics like Serra’s Television Delivers People or Lynda Benglis’s Now and Joan Jonas’s Vertical Roll, projects that explore the production and reception of electronic moving images, the compression of time and space that happens in live broadcast, intimacy at a distance, one-to-many communication, and of course the self-image in the midst of the (dis-)embodiment happening at the site of televisual display. I appreciated these concepts in many of the videos of that era, but it was Boomerang that first offered such an intense, visceral, mind-bending point of identification with their reality.