Friday 31 October 2014
Thursday 30 October 2014
The Eastern Hotel
I snapped this image quickly through a train window near Bratislava. It is an hotel. The name of the hotel can just be made out through the mist.
I've switched the image enhancer to monochrome turned up the contrast etc. so you can make out the name. It is as far as I can make out called simply HOTEL.
The bizzaro block architecture makes it resemble a nuclear power station or a prison but I immediately thought of a motel featured in an Alfred Hitchcock film; his terror classic Psycho. It's funny how the mind works; how it makes odd connections.
I supposed that there must be a way for the train traveller to get to the HOTEL without walking over the ploughed field but I didn't see it.
There was barely an a hour remaining before dusk when the train pulled in at the next stop, an unmanned halt with a pair of concrete waiting rooms resembling World War II air raid shelters. I didn't feel the need to alight. I stayed where I was. Continued my journey west.
I've switched the image enhancer to monochrome turned up the contrast etc. so you can make out the name. It is as far as I can make out called simply HOTEL.
The bizzaro block architecture makes it resemble a nuclear power station or a prison but I immediately thought of a motel featured in an Alfred Hitchcock film; his terror classic Psycho. It's funny how the mind works; how it makes odd connections.
I supposed that there must be a way for the train traveller to get to the HOTEL without walking over the ploughed field but I didn't see it.
There was barely an a hour remaining before dusk when the train pulled in at the next stop, an unmanned halt with a pair of concrete waiting rooms resembling World War II air raid shelters. I didn't feel the need to alight. I stayed where I was. Continued my journey west.
Wednesday 29 October 2014
Egon Schiele in Prison
In August 1911 the controversial artist Egon Schiele who was born in Tulln on the 12th June 1890 became a resident of the small Upper Austrian town of Neulengbach. Local residents were alarmed by the artist's reputation for erotic drawings and the fact that children were being invited to pose for their portraits in his atelier.
On 13th April 1912 the artist was arrested and taken to the town's court (above). He was charged with 'immorality' and 'seduction' and locked in a cell (below).
The prosecution held that he had carelessly or wilfully displayed erotic drawings in his atelier when children were present. The charge of seduction was dropped.
Friends in Vienna had previously warned Schiele about his carelessness in respect of leaving erotic artworks lying about.
Schiele was held in custody until his release on May 7th. The trial took place in the provincial capital of St. Pölten. The artist was sentenced to a token 3 days imprisonment. At the trial the judge burned one of Schiele's drawings as a symbolic act of 'public condemnation'.
* * *
On the fourth day following his arrest the artist was finally allowed to have painting and drawing materials in his cell.
His first aquarelle in prison was a picture of an Orange on a Grey Blanket. "The little coloured spot did me remarkable good" he wrote in his diary. In the following days he moved on to other items in his cell and in the cell block corridor: Oganic movement of Chair and Pitcher, and Two of my Handkerchieves.
The humbleness of the chair and the plainness of a bucket and water pipe were bestowed with meaning by Schiele and became more than simple objects. One still-life study was given the grandiose title: Art can not be Modern; Art is primordially Eternal.
The next day's diary entry reads: Not very far from me, so near that he would have to hear my voice if I were to shout, there sits in his magistrate's office a judge, or whatever else he might be. A man, however, who supposes there is something better, who has studied, who has lived in the city, who has visited churches, museums, the theater, concerts, yes, probably even art exhibitions. A man who consequently is numbered among the educated class which has read or at least heard of the life of the artist - and this man permits the fact that I am locked up in a cage.
On 1st May he writes: I dreamt of Trieste, of the sea, of open space. Longing. Oh, longing! For comfort I painted myself a ship, gay coloured and bulgy, like those that rock back and forth on the Adriatic. By this means my longing and my phantasy can sail over the sea, far out, to distant islands where jewel-like birds sing and glide among incredible trees.
* * *
These days there is a waymarked footpath dedicated to the artist in the town where he was incarcerated. One of the artworks featured along the way on a signpost is the 1913 painting The Truth will be Uncovered.
Egon Schiele died in Vienna on 31st October 1918 of Spanish flu. He was 28.
Tuesday 28 October 2014
Saturday 25 October 2014
The first Get Knotted Tie of the Month (October)
Be it foreign coins, LP albums, postcards, beer mats, comics, train sets, radios, shoes, book matches, candle sticks, hats, cuff links, tattoos, odd socks, water colours, beetles, butterflies, or pebbles from the beach we are all collectors. Myself, I collect 'nice' ties.
At 3 euros net price the above item of neckwear was a kicker. I cornered it in the back of a charity shop.
Do you actually wear your strange ties? I hear you ask. Of course I do. And by the way there's no need for anyone to shout. The ties are loud enough to shout for themselves.
You can check out another Get Knotted Tie of the Month here in November. In the meantime, hang loose.
This is the Truth, for Goya
The poem construct This is the Truth is an imaginary 3-way conversation between two women and an officer of the other side. All words are picture titles and borrowed from Goya's masterpiece The Disasters of War*. The final image (below the poem) is the first image in Goya's book but it is placed last here to show that the cycle of war can only end with the final extinction of humankind, the reason being that truth has died.
Against the common good |
The sound and the sick |
Great deeds - against the dead! |
Proud monster! |
Truth has died |
This is the Truth
A play for 3 voices.
With or without reason
The same thing again
Disasters of war
For infamous gain
The women give courage
What courage!
Escape through the flames
All this and more
Worse is to beg
This is worse
This always happens
The sound and the sick
What good is one cup?
It serves you right
They do not want to
Nor do these
Or these
On account of a knife
What more can one do?
Rabble!
Barbarians!
Bitter presence!
It is what you were born for!
Unhappy mother
Troupe of charlatans!
They avail themselves
There is no one to help them
Treat them!
Then on to other matters
One cannot look at thisThen on to other matters
Proud monster!
What madness!
There is no more time
The same thing elsewhere
It will be the same
Great deeds - against the dead!
Bury them and keep quiet
Why?
There is something to be gained
Nobody knows why
To the cemetery
Cartloads to the cemetery
Truth has died.
Sad presentiments of what must come to pass |
*another Goya posting below this one.
Los Desastres de la Guerra por Francisco Goya
A collection of eighty plates drawn and etched by Don Franciso Goya was published in Madrid by the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of San Fernando, in 1863.
From the preface to the original collection some words:
Goya at any time and in any circumstances would have won the renown that his true originality, offspring of the singular independence of his character, could not fail to gain for him. Self-taught, he may be said to have founded a school single-handedly, with a mode of artistic vision which no one before him possessed . . .
Francisco Goya y Lucientes was born in Aragon, on March 31, 1746. He died at Bordeaux on April 16, 1828.
Goya used suitable titles for all eighty plates. The one shown above is titled: Nothing. We shall see.
Friday 24 October 2014
Woman stoned to death
They stone them to death
these women
- blood wipes away with oil.
There's a newly released ISIS video claiming to show a woman being stoned to death by a group of men including her own father.
If anyone is interested in watching this act of primitive brutality it is a simple matter to find the video on the internet.
I haven't looked at it, but I imagine once you've seen one video of a woman being stoned to death you've seen them all.
The technique is simply to bury the blameless and unfortunate woman up to her neck in sand and then for the crowd to aim their rocks at her head, striking it as if it were a fairground coconut.
And so naturally I wondered about the worth of a woman and her place in such a society. Before long, I got thinking about camels.
I could find no record of a camel being stoned to death and so I suspected that a camel must be of more worth than a woman in a stone age mentality society. Very soon I found a report of a wolf stoned to death for killing a camel . . .
Freud leaves Vienna
Departure Time
time-traveller in space /
whose script fixed the place /
where you walked on the stage /
It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that our very existence in the universe is a film noir constantly repeating itself in an unknowable space-time loop. It might pay us to use our time wisely.
Wednesday 22 October 2014
Iphigenie en Aulide et Tauride
Enthusiastic applause and bravi followed last night's performance of Christoph Willibald Gluck's opera Iphigenie en Aulide et Tauride at Vienna's Theater an der Wien.
Congratulations to all involved in the presentation of the dramatic tragedy; and not least for demonstrating on the stage the inner-politics and public 'spin' combination required to conduct a brutal war. First the martyrdom and then the populace can live with the breaking news of mass burials and defeats and images of the lined-up dead awaiting body bags. The people have been persuaded that the blood sacrificed, right or wrong, is a price worth paying. As it was in ancient Greece so it is today.
The Wiener Symphoniker conducted by Leo Hussain drenched the auditorium with the atmosphere required. The stark white scenery, the funeral black clothing, the strong lighting, befitted the tragedy.
Veronique Gens in the title role was outstanding. Stephan Degout and Rainer Trost, brothers struggling to sacrifice themselves for each other had us gripping our nerves. The sinister Andreas Jankowitsch patrolling with his knife on the heels of his next victim is a man cut out for the role . . .
Highly recommended. Further performances: 24th, 27th, and 29th October 2014.
Highly recommended. Further performances: 24th, 27th, and 29th October 2014.
*
When it comes to the business of warfare today, simply by sitting in front of our TV sets we can all have good seats at the show.
Song for the TV War-Embedded
"Art owes its continuous evolution to the Apollonian - Dionysiac duality . . . the constant conflicts and periodic acts of reconciliation." - Friedrich Nietzche
rat catcher tricks
and killer of dragons
bravado
wander abroad
with a revelling
throng
progressing
by scenes
to the ruins . .
the thin veil
of the deep
subtraction .
to the eloquent
essence in war's
shock and awe
the witch's cauldron
the savage urges
of a mind par excellence
Apollo
holding up
the Gorgon's head
blood drips
day labour
for an afterlife
Tuesday 21 October 2014
The Mayerling Affair
Yesterday, as well as visiting Hafnerberg I went to the nearby visitor centre at Mayerling. The official story of the events of 30th January 1889 is well-known. But there are many alternative theories as to what may really have happened. I will provide a link at the foot of this post.
Mayerling today |
Mayerling at the time of the tragedy |
One version of the Events of Wednesday January 30th 1889
6:30am The Crown Prince ordered the valet Loscheck to leave and to wake him in an hour.
7:30am Loscheck returned to awaken the Crown Prince but there was no response. The door to the bedroom was locked contrary to practice. Hoyos arrived and only then learned of the presence of Mary Vetsera. He waited for Coburg.
8:10am Coburg appeared and they decided to break down the door. Loscheck reported that both the Crown Prince and Mary Vetsera were dead.
8:30am Hoyos travelled to Vienna to inform the Emperor.
9:00am Loscheck telegraphed the personal physician and hid Mary Vetsera's corpse.
10:00am Hoyos arrived at the Hofburg and initially informed Chief Chamberlain Bombelles. The Empress's Lady-in-Waiting informed the Emperor that Mary Vetsera had poisoned the Crown Prince.
11:00am Helene Vetsera learnt of her daughter and the Crown Prince's deaths from the Empress. Official version: 'Stroke'.
12:30pm Post-mortem by Dr. Widerhofer. Verdict: Both had been shot.
4:00pm Arrival of an official commission in Mayerling.
7:00pm Rudolf's corpse moved to Vienna.
Cab driver Bratfisch |
The Bratfisch account in booklet form |
Suicide note |
Rudolf's note to his wife |
Rudolf in naval uniform |
Monday 20 October 2014
Meeting in Hafnerberg
The Hafnerberg Menhir (maen hir) |
Asta |
Christ being stripped |
Nailing Christ to the cross |
This morning I went to Hafnerberg and there I walked from the village church along the Via Sacra, a pilgrim way in the Vienna Woods. The path climbed through woodland and I discovered there were 14 stations of the cross along the way. Two are shown here.
The path then emerged from the woods and I entered a gated field in which the stations of the cross trail ended. I climbed a small hill in the field and in 5 minutes I was at the top and standing beside the Druidenstein Felsnadel and a sign stating that I was in an area of positive electro-magnetic healing energy.
As I gazed at the rock I became aware of a presence. I glanced behind me and saw a friendly farm dog. Her name was Asta, perhaps named after the cute fox terrier in the 1930's film The Thin Man, but there the resemblance ended.
I found Asta's name on a tag on her collar. In her mouth she was carrying a pine cone which she politely dropped at my feet. The message was clear. We would play for a spell.
I threw the pine cone hither and thither for nearly half an hour. It was impossible to tire her out. She ran up and down the hill chasing this way and that and all the time gaily tumbling over and jumping back to her feet.
She always quickly retrieved the pine cone even when it lay amid others or was concealed in dense undergrowth. She often found the pine cone by using her acute sense of smell.
Finally I returned to the main path and of course Asta accompanied me. A final throw of the pine cone then.
And then a voice calling Asta from a farm house two fields away.
The dog galloped home, it seemed to me with unflagging energy, and I walked thoughtfully down the hill and back to Hafnerberg.
Sunday 19 October 2014
Friday 17 October 2014
The View from the Top
The View from the Top
and going down
the plughole
This space sponsored by Bradford & Bingley Toilet Paper Holdings Ltd.
Thursday 16 October 2014
Tuesday 14 October 2014
Sentimental twaddle ?
This signboard was on the pavement in front of a shop. Will anyone follow the advice to "Live every day as if it was your last" I wondered. I'm not sure about those other guidelines either. Nevertheless, in the end, it served to stimulate a haiku verse:
the morning gruel
the care nurse brings
will soon be cold
Monday 13 October 2014
Monday 6 October 2014
In exitum cuiusdam*
*On a certain one's departure
"Time's bitter flood"! Oh, that's all very well,
But where's the old friend hasn't fallen off,
Or slacked his hand-grip when you first gripped fame?
I know your circle and can fairly tell
What you have kept and what you have left behind:
I know my circle and know very well
How many faces I'd have out of mind.
Ezra Pound
Sunday 5 October 2014
Whole Body Imagery (Venezia Biennale 2014)
whole body imagery
means full body scan
and nothing to hide
in the search
for the needle
by women
efficient
in uniform blue
with blue nitrile gloves
with no belt
in his trousers
and his coins and his keys
with his phone
in a box
along with his shoes
he feels
quite alone
in the queues
where he stands
in his socks
having gone
through the scanner
feeling so small . . .
feeling so small . . .
feeling so small . . .
- a special poem for Rachel who wanted light relief today
Thursday 2 October 2014
Visiting an old friend
Tender presence
Now at close of breathing days
Sweet dilemmas
Lost
Forgotten
Happiness no longer there
The long lovely
Whatever gone
And nothing stirring
In the inexorable sluggishness
Of milky tea
and disinfectant smells
Save an endlessness of time
and tired eyes
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