quarta-feira, 30 de setembro de 2009

Working hands


The truth is ...




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by Alex Bec

The Time's hands



by Michel Giedroc

to notice:

Young people
don't know what age is,
and old people
forget what youth was.

Glazed hand


Self portrait


Playing hand


Poetry hands


terça-feira, 29 de setembro de 2009

Algarve


by Diogo, 1984

A white paper : Big challenge !


Big challenge ! [2]



by Bill Watterson, 1986

Big challenge ! [3]




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by Quino

Gotten in Olympus, perchance ...



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[PMSCBA]

Is about time ...


... yes ... It's 9 o'clock, already ...






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by Piero Fornasetti

Allons enfants de la Patrie !...






" La Marseillaise " - sculpture by F Rude (detail from the Triunph Arch - Place Charles de Gaulle, Paris)

" Type the sky "




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by Lisa Rienermann

Art by Ruud van Empel


domingo, 27 de setembro de 2009

BARBARA



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BIRTH : Monday, 9 June 1930

in Paris
6, Rue Brochant
Batignoles.

Born Monique Andrée Serf, she was the 2d child of a Jewish couple.

Her family had come from East Europe (URSS).

NATIONALITY : French.

ART DOMAIN : Poetry; Music Composition; Singing.

Late in 1980's Barbara started with humanitarian aid.

WORK : " À Mourrir Pour Mourrir "

" Ma Plus Belle Histoire d'Amour " ( dedicated to her public )

" L'Aigle Noir "

" Dis, Quand Reviendras Tu ? "

" A Peine "

among many, many others.

DEATH : Monday, 14 November 1997

in Neully - France,

victim of a respiratory disease.

She used to say she hated the outset of the month of November ...

Her public calls her " La Dame en noir " [ The Lady in Black ].

videoL'Aigle Noir













Barbara's caricature by MAGIXL

L'Aigle Noir [The Black Eagle]

L’AIGLE NOIR
Lyrics, music & voice: BARBARA


Un beau jour, ou peut-être une nuit,
Près d'un lac je m'étais endormie,
Quand soudain, semblant crever le ciel,
Et venant de nulle part,
Surgit un aigle noir,

Lentement, les ailes déployées,
Lentement, je le vis tournoyer,
Près de moi, dans un bruissement d'ailes,
Comme tombé du ciel,
L'oiseau vint se poser,

Il avait les yeux couleur rubis,
Et des plumes couleur de la nuit,
A son front brillant de mille feux,
L'oiseau roi couronné,
Portait un diamant bleu,

De son bec, il a touché ma joue,
Dans ma main il a glissé son cou,
C'est alors que je l'ai reconnu,
Surgissant du passé,
Il m'était revenu,

Dis l'oiseau, ô dis, emmène-moi,
Retournons au pays d'autrefois,
Comme avant, dans mes rêves d'enfant,
Pour cueillir en tremblant,
Des étoiles, des étoiles,

Comme avant, dans mes rêves d'enfant,
Comme avant, sur un nuage blanc,
Comme avant, allumer le soleil,
Etre faiseur de pluie,
Et faire des merveilles,

L'aigle noir dans un bruissement d'ailes,
Prit son vol pour regagner le ciel,

Un beau jour, ou peut-être une nuit,
Près d'un lac, je m'étais endormie,
Quand soudain, semblant crever le ciel,
Et venant de nulle part,
Surgit un aigle noir,

Un beau jour, une nuit,
Près d'un lac, endormie,
Quand soudain,
Il venait de nulle part,
Il surgit, l'aigle noir...

sábado, 26 de setembro de 2009

Art by Arcimboldo


Art by Charles Bazin




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detail from Girl With Parrot

Art by Gustav Klimt



Adele

Design by André Costa


Peugeot MOOVIE

My home town


Lisbon Municipal Council's Flag

Wise people says:

" If you have one pair of good soles
it's better than two pairs of
good uppers. "
.






(How very peculiar...)

What happened to Mara Zampieri ?


Devo andare subito!


Scissors sculpture


Keep smiling


Design by Roberta Rammane



The Wave Chair

sexta-feira, 25 de setembro de 2009

A motto to Camões:

Verdes são os campos
de cor do limão:
assi(m) são os olhos
do meu coração.









[I shouldn't dare translating Camões ... but ...]
Green are the fields
by lemon coloured:
so thus are the eyes
of my (sweet) heart.

The Poet




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Luís Vaz de Camões, the Poet of the Lusitanian People

As fragile as words


Ephemeral art by Ju Duoqui



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Van Gogh

Art by René Magrite


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1965

" A " for Approach


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Lettering by Julius Klinkhardt
19th Century

Be aware !


Do you happen to be ECO ?


Green mysterys ...


quinta-feira, 24 de setembro de 2009

Art by Guisepp Arcimboldo


What about this ?

"Humor, to a man,
is like a feather pillow.
It is filled with what is easy to get
but
gives great comfort."
.
[ O humor, para um homem,
é como uma almofada de penas.
Está cheia com aquilo que é fácil de obter
mas
proporciona grande conforto.]

From which way would it comes ?...




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by Quino

Disconcerting design ...


Ephemeral art by Ju Duoqui


By talking about pillows ...


Help ! We need somebody ... Help !


Undoutbtedly, Sir !!!


Is that Mary Poppins ?


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nnn by Sergey Tyukanov

Born to smile


' As imaginative as children '


quarta-feira, 23 de setembro de 2009

" As tatters, to drag my bleeding feet ... "


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CÂNTICO NEGO
by José Régio
(original version)
.
.
.
"Vem por aqui" - dizem-me alguns com olhos doces,
Estendendo-me os braços, e seguros
De que seria bom que eu os ouvisse
Quando me dizem: "Vem por aqui" !
Eu olho-os com olhos lassos,
(Há, nos meus olhos, ironias e cansaços)
E cruzo os braços,
E nunca vou por ali ...
.
A minha glória é esta:
Criar desumanidade!
Não acompanhar ninguém.
- Que eu vivo com o mesmo sem-vontade
Com que rasguei o ventre a minha Mãe.
.
Não, não vou por aí! Só vou por onde
Me levam meus próprios passos ...
Se ao que busco saber nenhum de vós responde,
Porque me repetis: "Vem por aqui" ?
Prefiro escorregar nos becos lamacentos,
Redemoinhar aos ventos,
Como farrapos, arrastar os pés sangrentos,
A ir por aí ...
.
Se vim ao mundo, foi
Só para desflorar florestas virgens,
E desenhar meus próprios pés na areia inexplorada !
O mais que faço não vale nada.
.
Como, pois, sereis vós
Que me dareis impulsos, ferramentas, e coragem
Para eu derrubar os meus obstáculos ?...
Corre, nas vossas veias, sangue velho dos avós,
E vós amais o que é fácil !
Eu amo o Longe e a Miragem,
Amo os abismos, as torrentes, os desertos...
.
Ide ! Tendes estradas,
Tendes jardins, tendes canteiros,
Tendes pátrias, tendes tectos,
E tendes regras, e tratados, e filósofos, e sábios.
Eu tenho a minha Loucura !
Levanto-a, como um facho, a arder na noite escura,
E sinto espuma, e sangue, e cânticos nos lábios ...
.
Deus e o Diabo é que me guiam, mais ninguém.
Todos tiveram pai, todos tiveram mãe;
Mas eu, que nunca principio nem acabo,
Nasci do amor que há entre Deus e o Diabo.
.
Ah, que ninguém me dê piedosas intenções !
Ninguém me peça definições !
Ninguém me diga: "Vem por aqui" !
A minha vida é um vendaval que se soltou.
É uma onda que se alevantou.
É um átomo a mais que se animou ...
Não sei por onde vou,
Não sei para onde vou,
- Sei que não vou por aí !
BLACK CANTICLE (Black Song)
by José Régio
(translation by Pedro Éme)



“Come this way” – tell me a few with sweet eyes
Stretching me their arms and (quite) sure
That it would be good if I listening to them
When they say to me: “Come this way”!
I (do) look at them with weary eyes
(There’s in my eyes ironies and lassitudes)
And I fold my arms,
And I never go that way...

That one is my glory:
To create inhumanity!
Do not accompany no one.
- For I live with the same non-will
I had when I tore my Mother’s venter.

No, I’m not going that way! I shall go but
Where my own steps take me to...
If, when I go for knowing, none of you answer me,
Why do you repeat to me: “Come this way”?
I prefer to slip in the muddy alleys,
To whirl by the winds,
As tatters, to drag my bleeding feet,
Than go that way...

If I came to the world, it was
Just to deflorate virgin forests
And draw my own feet in the unexplored sand!
The more I do is no worth.

How, so (then), will be you
(Who’ll set me going) Who’ll give me impulses, tools and bravery
For me to knock down my own snags?...
In your veins flows an old blood from grandparents
And you love what is easy!
I do love the Farther and the Looming,
I love the abysms, the torrents, the deserts...

Go! You have roadways,
Have gardens, have garden-plots,
Have motherlands, you have ceilings,
And you have rules, and treatises, and philosophers, and
......................................................................sapient men.
I have my own Madness!
I lift it up as a burning torch in the dark evening,
And I feel foam, and blood, and canticles in my leaps...

God and the Devil are the ones who guide me, no one else.
Everyone had a father, everyone had a mother;
But me, who never begins nor ends,
I’ve born from the love that exists between God and the
...............................................................................Devil.

Oh! That no one give me pious intentions!
No one ask me for definitions!
No one tell me: “Come this way”!
My life is a windstorm that got free.
It’s a wave that rose up.
It’s one more atom that became animated...
I don’t know by where shall go,
Don’t know to where I’ll go,
- I know I’m not going that way!