Jeff & the Wall(s) in our heads

It's like with (some) paintings. How often did you hear someone - or yourself :) saying something like this: “Sure, my two-year-old could do better than that.”? *

End of the beforegoing.

Apart from being ... well ... large-sized, Jeff Wall's photographs - are interesting.
Let's take for example

Insomnia *

On first sight it looks easily done, like a snapshot, but ...

What I like about Jeff Wall: He does not wish to transport a mission, he does not even intend to tell a story (at least he says so); he leaves all to the viewer / contemplator.
It is as if a reader writes the story, each reader his own.

Huh, however: two or more years preparation for one photograph - that's a bit ...

... but who am I to complete my thought(s)?

Am I not a bit ..., myself?

Aren't we all?

Or, at least, most of us?

What do you think?


* With pleasure I do once again commend to read A Doubtful Egg's post about Them Bleedin' Artists ...
Take your time, contemplate, reflect and ... leave him your opinion.

** There is quite a lot to discover in Tate's Gallery and Moma.
Enjoy.

Business as usual

Well, as tonight watching a shaking reportage from Ingushetia in which (to my surprise) the President - ha ha ha - of Chechenia, Ramzan Kadyrov (will he sue the reporter? ha ha ha) has been called a butcher, and in which apart of some terrible details and one (of uncounted) atrocious murders I learned that taxi drivers would not go on road without their kalashnikov, I thought how privileged I am that in Seanhenge it means something completely different when talking about business as usual.

Our watch-cat* somewhere in the garden, ...

and on her rocket chair.

* won't tell her name, as it would take too long to explain its origin. :)

Personal note

Somehow I needed a short hiatus.
The Estemirova murder made me (almost) furious.
And afterwards to post poems or nice garden idylls I thought to be devious.
Neither I have been visiting other bloggers for quite a while.

Good to know you'll forgive me with a lenient smile. :)

Just a thought 008

All the gang of those who rule us
Hope our quarrels never stop
Helping them to split and fool us
So they can remain on top.
Bertold Brecht

Who will be the next?

Wednesday morning:
During my four hours writing, I suddenly think of Anna Mikhalchuk / Anna Alchuck (scroll down til 'In the burning house'). Did any journalist / media investigate her death?
Scribbling her name.

***

No surprise that when about two hours later I type her name to find that after her death (obviously) she was immediately ... forgotten.

* * *

At the same time a satphone might have rung. Someone in Moscow calling someone in Grosny.

- [...] Officially Dmitry will, of course, condemn this very sad event, Ramzan. However: well done.

- Ha ha, I love your humor, Vladimir. Glad you enjoyed it. We'll have a big party tonight, anyway. [...]

* * *

The laughing idiot (not only in the classical sense) wouldn't - also, of course - not know about the 'u' in humour. In so far he's as intelligent as f.e. Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld & Co., and - let's say the criminal Peace-Nobelprize winner Kissinger.

They would never spell humour h-u-m-o-u-r.

As for Putin & Kadyrov.
Kadyrov for Putin is somehow what Margaret Thatcher's "dear friend" Augusto (amongst others) was for (criminals like) Kissinger (scroll to Intervention in Chile / Argentina), Nixon et al - a useful idiot.

* * *

To cut an otherwise long post short:
I am sad. I do feel enraged. And helpless. Could I kill that bastard Kadyrov? Would I do it, if I had the chance?

Hm ...

Is the ruthless criminal Kadyrov - I repeat: the ruthless criminal Kadyrov [a: Come on, sue me, Mr Kadyrov! [Just to make sure: Sue* me, I wrote; I did not ask you (or the "flawless democrat Vladimir Putin" (quoting here a certain Gerhard Schröder); to send one of your assassins ; b) sorry, dear readers, that I would let sink myself on such a low level, but I see no reason to doubt that Mr Kadyrov is what his master Putin (in another context) would call a 'vermin' - and RRP / Russia's real President (sometimes) wouldn't err, hm?]

I do, f.e. remember Vladimir 'Ras' Putin once saying (to alleged Chechen 'terrorists'): 'We shall squelch these animals/critters/vermin'.

* * *

Why would people like Gandhi, King, Dink, Politkovskaya get murdered, and such an evil creature enjoy life?!

:) ... because people like me would not kill the bastards! Helplessness. Bloody helplessness.

Long live the evil! ?

Or, in other words: Well ... that's politics.

Ha ha ha ... what a post! What a silly post. What a fucking silly post.

A post to honour Natasha (sic) Estemirova.

To honour her with all my heart.

And to type (mind you: not to google): List of murdered Russian journalists.

to be continued ...

The peace of the night.


* :) with thanks to Bertus (see comment section)

As for traditions

Tradition is not about keeping the ashes,
but to pass on the matches.

Quite.

A phrase that can be seen in a different light, though, when f.e. remembering what happened today 21 years ago in Drumcree.

Photo taken in what Republicans prefer to call Derry,
and Loyalists Londonderry.

Well, today's brave "traditionalists" will have been marching again along kerbs being painted in the colours of the Union Jack, thus celebrating what they think was their - ha ha ha - 'glorious victory' once upon a time, 319 years ago.
I'd not be surprised would there already exist a comitee preparing the 400th anniversary in 2090.

Oh well, meanwhile I shall peel an orange.

As for religions

"All original religions are allegorical,
or susceptible of allegory,
and, like Janus, have a double face
of false and true."

Percy Bysshe Shelley (4 August 1792 – 8 July 1822)


If a person's religious ideas
correspond not with your own,
love him nevertheless.
How different would yours have been,
had the chance of birth
placed you in Tartary or India.

Shelley,
1812, Declaration of Rights, article 25

Liszts's Lovedream

You listened to his debut performance with the Berlin Philharmony?
Well, in 2007 Evgeny Kissin was twice as old.
And obviously he's been heeding Franz Liszt's advice.

Enjoy.

Not only for pianists

If I don't exercise one day, I notice it; if I don't exercise two days, my friends notice it; if I don't exercise three days, the audience notice it.

Wenn ich einen Tag lang nicht übe, merke ich es. Wenn ich zwei Tage lang nicht übe, merken es meine Freunde. Wenn ich drei Tage lang nicht übe, merkt es das Publikum.

Franz Liszt

Young genius meets old genius

Tonight I came to think of this very performance, to share my pleasure typed Kissin, Karajan, Tchaikowsky and ... sometimes I could kiss the internet :) ... voilà.

Enjoy Piano Concerto N 1, III Alegro con fuono by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, after which on 31 December 1988 Herbert von Karajan was moved to tears and when shaking hands with the boys mother only said: "A genius."

A tragedy, Mr Erdoğan is so utterly stupid

Turkey's prime minister has described ethnic violence in China's Xinjiang region as "a kind of genocide".
"There is no other way of commenting on this event," Recep Tayyip Erdogan said.
He spoke after a night-time curfew was reimposed in Xinjiang's capital, Urumqi, where Muslim Uighurs and Han Chinese clashed last Sunday.
The death toll from the violence there has now risen from 156 to 184, China's state-run Xinhua news agency reports. More than 1,000 people were injured.
Turkey, a predominantly Muslim country, shares linguistic and religious links with the Uighurs in China's western-most region.
Full BBC-article here.

This is most interesting. What happened to Armenians in the Ottoman era, thus before the Turkish Republic was founded, Erdoğan Effendi - sic! ha ha ha - would call "a tragedy", and his Magnificent Stupidity would feel insulted by those who would call a genocide a genocide.

What a ... oh, well - to be continued ...

Meanwhile you might like to read some post which are corroborating this post's title.
Cave Cihan, Mr Erdoğan!

Considerably exaggerated

Does article 301 apply to Erdoğan?

Mozart's homage to Erdogan

The Death of Zhuangzi

Zhuangzi was dying, and his disciples wanted to bury him splendiferously. Spake Zhuangzi: "Heaven and earth are my coffin. Sun and moon are my jade rings, the stars my pearls and gems, and the whole creation escorts me. Thus, I shall have a splendid funeral. What else would you add?" Spake the disciples: "We are afraid, crows and kites might eat the master." Spake Zhuangzi: "Unburied I serve crows and kites as nutrition, buried worms and ants. To take from the one to give to the other: why being such biased?

[Humble attempt to translate "Der Tod des Dschuang Dsï", published in Dschuang Dsï - Südliches Blütenland, Eugen Diederichs Verlag, p. 294]

To ...

His name could be Shakespeare,
Petrarca or Shelley:
No poet could ever find
the right words to describe you.
Not even I.

:)

Revolutioner's Guide - made in China

As mentioned en passant, these days I am re-reading The Book of Changes / I Ching, in the legendary translation of Richard Wilhelm.
To give but one example why I do find this book interesting - although I am not sure whether it would be amongst the 100 books I'd take to the very island - , I chose hexagram 49.
Why?
Well, while reading, again I wondered why a people with such a heritage should not have been able (up til now) to create a form of government that would f.e. (have) prove(d) a certain Winston Churchill ("It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.") wrong. Judge yourself.
Hm ... :) ... I was going to ask you while reading to think of ... this and that current regime / government / dictatorship / political situations on this planet, but just in time remembered what one could not seldom hear in editorial departments: "The reader is stupid!" I do not like (such kind of) generalisation.
Yes, many readers are (unfortunately) stupid - for whatever reason, and there are many -, but I do prefer to think, not to say I am convinced: The reader is not stupid (per se). The reader has not to be told what's right, what's wrong. The reader can judge himself.
Thus, again judge yourself. The Chinese character for this hexagram means in its original sense an animal's pelt, which is changed in the course of the year by molting. From this word is carried over to apply to the 'moltings' in political life, the great revolutions connected with changes of governments. The two trigrams making up the hexagram are the same two that appear in K'uei, OPPOSITION (38), that is, the two younger daughters, Li and Tui. But while there the elder of the two daughters is above, and what results is essentially only an opposition of tendencies, here the younger daughter is above. The influences are in actual conflict, and the forces combat each other like fire and water (lake), each trying to destroy the other. Hence the idea of revolution.

THE JUDGMENT
Revolution. On your own day you are believed. Supreme success, Furthering through perseverance. Remorse disappears.

Political revolutions are extremely grave matters. They should be undertaken only under stress of direst necessity, when there is no other way out. Not everyone is called to this task, but only the man who has the confidence of the people, and even he only when the time is ripe. He must then proceed in the right way, so that he gladdens the people and, by enlightening them, prevents excesses. Furthermore, he must be quite free of selfish aims and must really relieve the need of the people. Only then does he have nothing to regret.
Times change, and with them their demands. Thus the seasons change in the course of the year. In the world cycle also there are spring and autumn in the life of peoples and nations, and these call for social transformations.

THE IMAGE

Fire in the lake: the image of revolution.
Thus the superior man sets the calendar in
order and makes the seasons clear.

Fire below and the lake above combat and destroy each other. So too in the course of the year a combat takes place between the forces of light and the forces of darkness, eventuating in the revolution of the seasons, and man is able to adjust himself in advance to the demands of the different times.

THE LINES

Nine at the beginning means:
Wrapped in the hide of a yellow cow.

Changes ought to be undertaken only when there is nothing else to be done. Therefore at first the utmost restraint is necessary. One must becomes firm in one's mind, control oneself -yellow is the color of the means, and the cow is the symbol of docility-and refrain from doing anything for the time being, because any premature offensive will bring evil results.

When one's own day comes, one may create revolution. Starting brings good fortune. No blame.

Six in the second place means:

When we have tried in every other way to bring about reforms, but without success, revolution becomes necessary. But such a thoroughgoing upheaval must be carefully prepared. There must be available a man who has the requisite abilities and who possesses public confidence. To such a man we may well turn. This brings good fortune and is not a mistake. The first thing to be considered is our inner attitude toward the new condition that will inevitably come. We have to go out to meet it, as it were. Only in this way can it be prepared for.

Nine in the third place means:

Starting brings misfortune, perseverance brings danger. When talk of revolution has gone the rounds three times one may commit himself, and men will believe him.

When change is necessary, there are two mistakes to be avoided. One lies in excessive haste and ruthlessness, which bring disaster. The other lies in excessive hesitation and conservatism, which are also dangerous. Not every demand for change in the existing order should be heeded. On the other hand, repeated and well-founded complaints should not fail of a hearing. When talk of change has come to one's ears three times, and has been pondered well, he may believe and acquiesce in it. Then he will meet with belief and will accomplish something.

Nine in the fourth place means:

Remorse disappears. Men believe him. Changing the form of government brings good fortune.

Radical changes require adequate authority. A man must have inner strength as well as influential position. What he does must correspond with a higher truth and must not spring from arbitrary or petty motives; then it brings great good fortune. If a revolution is not founded on such inner truth, the results are bad, and it has no success. For in the end men will support only those undertakings which they feel instinctively to be just.

Nine in the fifth place means:

The great man changes like a tiger. Even before he questions the oracle he is believed.

A tigerskin, with its highly visible black stripes on a yellow ground, shows its distinct pattern from afar. It is the same with a revolution brought about by a great man: large, clear guiding lines become visible, understandable to everyone. Therefore he need not first consult the oracle, for he wins the spontaneous support of the people.

Six at the top means:

The superior man changes like a panther. The inferior man molts in the face. Starting brings misfortune. To remain persevering brings good fortune.

After the large and fundamental problems are settled, certain minor reforms, and elaborations of these, are necessary. These detailed reforms may be likened to the equally distinct but relatively small marks of the panther's coat. As a consequence, a change also takes place among the inferior people. In conformity with the new order, they likewise 'molt.' This molting, it is true, does not go very deep, but that is not to be expected. We must be satisfied with the attainable. If we should go too far and try to achieve too much, it would lead to unrest and misfortune. For the object of a great revolution is the attainment of clarified, secure conditions ensuring a general stabilization on the basis of what is possible at the moment.

- - -

Comparing the above translation of Wilhelm's transition from Chinese into German, I found it slightly well done and therefore - nurturing my laziness - allowed myself to shamelessly pinch it from this site which herewith I do commend for further reading, in case you got intrigued.

Even more busy ...

As there's daylight until about 10 p.m., we spend most evenings in the garden. It's berry-time.

After the strawberries,

the black - and ...

red currants and ...

... the morello cherries asked to get picked;

potatos, paprika & peas, beans & borage,
cucumbers and courgettes / zucchini,
kohlrabi & carrots etc. ask(ed) to be freed of weed;
bougainvillea and gentian to repotting them,
the meadows to be mowed, some flowers and bushes
to get planted; and - as it has not been raining
for about ten days, all they are thirsty,
as are

the dear deads on the cemetary. :)

So, after showering and having a little snack, mostly I feel too lazy to do anything else - except after about 30 years re-reading one or two chapters in the Book of Changes / I Ching.

All this just to tell why these days I am even more busy with not blogging than usual, but that it's not impossible this will change.

Although, ...

by looking at our cherries, I suppose ...

Refreshing forecast

Whenever it's hot - as it is these days in and around Seanhenge - it is refreshing to check the Orkney weather.

The Old Man of Hoy

A fitting end to life

Your forehead is like a lily, slender you stand as if under a web of gold! I have loved you a long time, and with all my strength. O Blessed Mary! How shall I be delivered?

I have no sight of you, fearing your people and their vengeance, only my despair is left me and bitter sighing in my desire of you. If in my madness I am destroyed by the bright jewel of your beauty, then you are guilty of my death -
O sacred powers save her from this murder!

But I shall be laid in a grave in the shade of the soft leaves and the fresh trees, tomorrow the young birch-trees will hold my funeral under the branches of the ash. I shall have a shroud around me, a gay garment of summer clover, and the coffin fit for me to seek God's grace shall be all of young leaves. The flowers of the wood shall be my winding-sheet, my bier eight branches, a thousand sea-gulls will come to carry my bier. A host of fine trees, laymen I tell you of pleasant temper, will escort me, and they will be my church, forming a summer cloister with their high places. The two statues will be for worship, namely the two nightingales that you chose: and by the wheat fields there shall be raised altars on the dappled ground.

And a choir shall sing that does not know Jealousy, that does not angrily shut the door; and brothers that do not know the brotherhood of age, shall speak the Latin tongue in true metre from books of leaves and fine-bound grammars of the trees. And from the hayfield a splendid organ shall sound, and the music of bells ringing.

And there in the pleasant country of Gwynedd my grave is ready for me, a fresh green place ...Llan Eos, grove of inspiration, a fitting end to life. And the cuckoo shall sing a chant for my soul, sounding like an organ in the green wood; and prayers and supplications and psalms and other voices shall arise for me, and sacrifices and sweet messages, and in the summer months Love will visit me in my grave. And may God keep tryst with his poet in Paradise.