tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4411061700790055022024-03-13T08:42:32.707-07:00Michel MartinMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-59020184479377890662011-05-10T14:51:00.000-07:002011-05-10T14:52:47.265-07:00My devotion to separatenessNobody ever says don’t leave me or stay with me <br />or come back <br />what they say is I am alone be guilty for my loneliness<br />take the hammer of my consciousness and smash it to the bricks<br />I’ve so carefully aligned to build my house <br />this house is my devotion to separateness<br /><br />in my house children grow backwards their hair grows inside their scalps<br />their arms grow in their lungs and their hearts grow in their brains<br />children of Mary Magdalene <br /><br />and they eat at my table rabbit meat and pigeon meat while a well appointed<br />pianist plays the dissolution of trees and psychedelic livers<br />and the jostling of fluids in the atmosphere is creamier than any <br />longing <br />and the piano is a pink piano made of pink wood from pink trees from pink forests <br />where the mystic river runs<br /><br />my house is outside space just like rainbows<br />and as I live in my house I fill its little cracks with algae<br />and mermaid tails no hurricane will destroy it <br />I am not biological I do not posses<br />I walk alone in the valley of serene disappearances <br />Honey<br />this is the last time I touch your body with mineMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-9869271712082652392011-02-02T13:09:00.000-08:002011-02-02T13:16:32.999-08:00Eveniment - 'Inima tuturor lucrurilor'<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9JUIod_LwZqf9UtWg7gizpW6goxPeRdgfHArLIsC6cOpQN2PZwXKjqUkpT638ZDzAGNyUiPz3BHRT6gFZrXbGjmtM58ohvq79GJVjZ_dF_iTZ7S3DwJ_EA3VV6krNj6Z02p-vpJBdE0/s1600/IMG02186-20100911-1357.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB9JUIod_LwZqf9UtWg7gizpW6goxPeRdgfHArLIsC6cOpQN2PZwXKjqUkpT638ZDzAGNyUiPz3BHRT6gFZrXbGjmtM58ohvq79GJVjZ_dF_iTZ7S3DwJ_EA3VV6krNj6Z02p-vpJBdE0/s400/IMG02186-20100911-1357.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569203855957067666" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXu36Jf-gcsvqkbNoWqM25ABauJNLfgY-zA-4WpwCuAKURIsZAwFP7VyTepTPswYsO2uNaV6b5xbu1bHDKoIGlgdC-C4sfXlsNmlq98XNBVsYXBmDtnDvwqKZ8qZRPgV_hyaPbi8s-Jao/s1600/copera+michel+martin+inima+tuturor+lucrurilor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXu36Jf-gcsvqkbNoWqM25ABauJNLfgY-zA-4WpwCuAKURIsZAwFP7VyTepTPswYsO2uNaV6b5xbu1bHDKoIGlgdC-C4sfXlsNmlq98XNBVsYXBmDtnDvwqKZ8qZRPgV_hyaPbi8s-Jao/s400/copera+michel+martin+inima+tuturor+lucrurilor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569202975738332786" /></a><br />Time 10 February at 09:00 - 28 February at 23:30 <br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /> <br />Location Bistro de l'Arte, Brasov<br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /> <br />Created by: Bistro de l'Arte <br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />Volumul de poezii "Inima tuturor lucrurilor" a aparut in anul 2009 la editura Brumar sub semnatura unei tinerei poete române care este cunoscuta sub pseudonimul Michel Martin. Volumele de poezie se vor afla in Bistro de l'Arte pana la sfarsitul lunii februarie si vor fi oferite gratuit clientilor amatori de versuri si cultura, în limita stocului disponibil.<br /><br />Asa cum spunea doamna Ruxandra Cesereanu " 'Inima tuturor lucrurilor' nu este facuta pentru un cititor lenes, nici pentru unul cu tabuu-uri. Este exclusiv pentru cititori exotici, in caz ca mai exista asa ceva."<br />Autoarea va fi prezenta in Bistro de l'Arte sâmbata 12 februarie, de la ora 13:00Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-7901494980673211622011-01-09T09:01:00.000-08:002011-01-09T09:02:19.987-08:00PeopleWho is this woman who talks to me<br />Dressed in black<br />Wearing my jewellery <br /><br />People write about vegetables and pelvises<br />People write about the death of their children<br />And the crimes they’ve committed<br /><br />There’s a gender error sitting on my porch <br />Looking me in the eye<br />Holly ghost, the torch of my loins <br />Undistinguishable<br /><br />People write about their childhood and senility<br />People write about fucking their mums<br /><br />They couldn’t find my corpse lying on the bathroom floor<br />People write about suicides and gas<br />People write letters of condolence <br /><br />Like there’s no antidote for wisdom <br />Ants crawling on my dissected brain <br />And dreams rejected like bad ovaries <br />People write about fear and kitchen sinks<br />People write about life and love<br /><br />Who is this woman who talks to me<br />Dressed in black<br />Wearing my intestines around her neck<br /><br />People write about flamingo birds<br />And their coral feathers<br />I’m nowhere to be found man without bird<br />Woman without spine<br />Closed upMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-61172358967219976262011-01-07T16:41:00.000-08:002011-01-07T17:10:26.657-08:00The Plath Hours<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhal4b4UJhEVJRU36tOfn-2tJqDlDBFRY319G5lnJCPzBAe0mzgOr9LPGgVRpT4d2ULoCo7m0EVWoJc7kctn7MPKpr3InJZCEHi3_KjXMTlwPjriiQxo7i0-iAuxqbZb-5vasM8FvfHMfQ/s1600/IMG02593-20110108-0052.jpg"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDBWwkZ9DlAJbfiOwcd_3QVIh_TBCSu3jXvomv0vm1u2aoJL7T44nzOkD69FbLpXSA-Yji5_QTECXR_ovflBhQcXl-Ed35LkN0uroBamia9WgZu2_4xxbGAMn6TxPE8banLa7z81QMlE/s400/2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559615322939278482" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsIW2meoJQnaS6Tv09zCq7MfPyNJfuQtFDj7K-fn0fgrxroN9_oO1DidjbBIgMilSyizpPZW9IRM3XK3vYQcKF7XM4G4H6KguQWLUnMCsGmFmqJoyhZQlThmOl3sNaQ3raZNJy2n_4Pw/s1600/3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsIW2meoJQnaS6Tv09zCq7MfPyNJfuQtFDj7K-fn0fgrxroN9_oO1DidjbBIgMilSyizpPZW9IRM3XK3vYQcKF7XM4G4H6KguQWLUnMCsGmFmqJoyhZQlThmOl3sNaQ3raZNJy2n_4Pw/s400/3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559615316056730226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdBc-bX6FmuEKOHqD7jy_1oldcEwFql9ZFd0KwN0DlgJ9LzKpn3_X8rrn4NB7ti8AtWyj3N0is3cuYntikV2GK4Ar0GyX74X5viSkXy8Qmk9B5ybLLoLn7SQmWMFLR2PQu9usKI7MKTo/s1600/4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdBc-bX6FmuEKOHqD7jy_1oldcEwFql9ZFd0KwN0DlgJ9LzKpn3_X8rrn4NB7ti8AtWyj3N0is3cuYntikV2GK4Ar0GyX74X5viSkXy8Qmk9B5ybLLoLn7SQmWMFLR2PQu9usKI7MKTo/s400/4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559615310435206130" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzq2EzuCbaeyNMW-FeTUDcnl6k7s87rv01xuh0wOhwfB2-Z4yYFbDVG1fZm13KEEDUrkthdus5EfU1z9_xr4OlEbGAMuRIOvdl-artlSx_2UlOlcMvxU6YZtOB9zhjbRqFUMun_js_Z3E/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzq2EzuCbaeyNMW-FeTUDcnl6k7s87rv01xuh0wOhwfB2-Z4yYFbDVG1fZm13KEEDUrkthdus5EfU1z9_xr4OlEbGAMuRIOvdl-artlSx_2UlOlcMvxU6YZtOB9zhjbRqFUMun_js_Z3E/s400/5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559615309191026130" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5aPxPAe5X9x0B2DPsM4CQ7Oq8xfgP2XRuNzlFktGGPnsJr-yQeVBPhfC6Y5WmuiWPKxawNKXhATYY-bUt8vCqVJ-L9hvW1AYmeSNH1_-R_XvIz1Iey2-a58P-MWizYoszrV9ewuXTF4/s1600/photo+plath.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5aPxPAe5X9x0B2DPsM4CQ7Oq8xfgP2XRuNzlFktGGPnsJr-yQeVBPhfC6Y5WmuiWPKxawNKXhATYY-bUt8vCqVJ-L9hvW1AYmeSNH1_-R_XvIz1Iey2-a58P-MWizYoszrV9ewuXTF4/s400/photo+plath.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559615304883281554" /></a>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-45114004153837503772011-01-03T15:59:00.000-08:002011-01-03T16:01:16.511-08:00Elan Valley Dams, Wales, Dec. 2010<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgrJyZy1VUBVnObRwodprWjUWzgKjQuP7wCR_mmoL-IVzBEP3-8YzzB9G_43Gf2F3dJ5oR4VhOxv4nZenoiVDycCg2-plIm8JEaYKC18HGTpMvd7z7ap7w9-Ku8jV6mHc5c2NrjhjJik/s1600/01.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibgrJyZy1VUBVnObRwodprWjUWzgKjQuP7wCR_mmoL-IVzBEP3-8YzzB9G_43Gf2F3dJ5oR4VhOxv4nZenoiVDycCg2-plIm8JEaYKC18HGTpMvd7z7ap7w9-Ku8jV6mHc5c2NrjhjJik/s400/01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558114015385464642" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixl5R3WDNHg8g9Ukl3NXN_a3lUOSvjI1dJzVjXYvsT2kQ_k_Tx0-2_pnUm36wP1DZjnd0DgWjX7k4KzT7Ziro-GvoIpJE6VM-3WLUO7lKYBxtV1RzeTaOJLjwrMKj1T5o0N5-gJ4cV5Hs/s1600/02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixl5R3WDNHg8g9Ukl3NXN_a3lUOSvjI1dJzVjXYvsT2kQ_k_Tx0-2_pnUm36wP1DZjnd0DgWjX7k4KzT7Ziro-GvoIpJE6VM-3WLUO7lKYBxtV1RzeTaOJLjwrMKj1T5o0N5-gJ4cV5Hs/s400/02.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558114006490769666" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EXIRNzlR2lsLY7UWbc5jFA62QWHAybtUk7Dx2BC5Y_YjpOSbhZSzLW6uLo0Qwjb2T4xHTypER2WKBOoG5y8iEz5GxshU2Buy5UGgS6hRvsA62qzy0zvg9jq2YyrYeO-frmqVN2IIhQs/s1600/03.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EXIRNzlR2lsLY7UWbc5jFA62QWHAybtUk7Dx2BC5Y_YjpOSbhZSzLW6uLo0Qwjb2T4xHTypER2WKBOoG5y8iEz5GxshU2Buy5UGgS6hRvsA62qzy0zvg9jq2YyrYeO-frmqVN2IIhQs/s400/03.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558114001353598114" /></a>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-78665768861741205002011-01-03T15:31:00.000-08:002011-01-03T15:47:51.812-08:00Saatchi Gallery, Contemporary British ...Art<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0wtrbSTFqFjXB09q8lBypWlAG69sIfhFPr7B89C-TGfIKsU3WOW4jVzhN-r0PmcGYoTLVfMMpmcijbDOlkRdndxaSzoYTi3tO7mO_W0x62eyuiXHiyaPtQd0hnxg9oV4E_i57Hk_6Dk/s1600/IMG02586-20110102-1715.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0wtrbSTFqFjXB09q8lBypWlAG69sIfhFPr7B89C-TGfIKsU3WOW4jVzhN-r0PmcGYoTLVfMMpmcijbDOlkRdndxaSzoYTi3tO7mO_W0x62eyuiXHiyaPtQd0hnxg9oV4E_i57Hk_6Dk/s400/IMG02586-20110102-1715.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558108045881724306" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSoTvTN-E1pjzfRpxnp6G5xz1AZ6zwuPBvOoyNLvG_aLGlGTdFwtyTnurs14fiKbJkMR-4L5KjsYDtjQ0v1uZyxa1YqXGBq8Lt3cM1PI4TWB_pXmIZzlrHBcBzG6s3GfmdK3i4GYgPOs/s1600/IMG02585-20110102-1714.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSoTvTN-E1pjzfRpxnp6G5xz1AZ6zwuPBvOoyNLvG_aLGlGTdFwtyTnurs14fiKbJkMR-4L5KjsYDtjQ0v1uZyxa1YqXGBq8Lt3cM1PI4TWB_pXmIZzlrHBcBzG6s3GfmdK3i4GYgPOs/s400/IMG02585-20110102-1714.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558108042090401714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqN_AU15KV_nfxU-UkiWCSlHLf1dvEcKHjurCj7UoSEdt4yLYjJUBweTWfFQtbt1EWs1BzbRkHsO86WPJOPN9NYq8Ox4iMk0C9loUxrFGkkNLJ-CeWkAHz6YqmJxp9yDRFWaELe8raeQ/s1600/IMG02582-20110102-1711.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqN_AU15KV_nfxU-UkiWCSlHLf1dvEcKHjurCj7UoSEdt4yLYjJUBweTWfFQtbt1EWs1BzbRkHsO86WPJOPN9NYq8Ox4iMk0C9loUxrFGkkNLJ-CeWkAHz6YqmJxp9yDRFWaELe8raeQ/s400/IMG02582-20110102-1711.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558107248256204546" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIKeHAB6DeyWFNra_tA2cdUw-jQNBXqAam0yTJzU50cHams2BrcFLPll_dkSsGLTbROqkJJy6V8ZOG8V0XpFGD8Mnmy7-M8KdSoWV_k6ZV3AA1PxE8-lcNUoWUIs4nVhyphenhyphenBEzJ0_0IYgU/s1600/IMG02580-20110102-1710.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoIKeHAB6DeyWFNra_tA2cdUw-jQNBXqAam0yTJzU50cHams2BrcFLPll_dkSsGLTbROqkJJy6V8ZOG8V0XpFGD8Mnmy7-M8KdSoWV_k6ZV3AA1PxE8-lcNUoWUIs4nVhyphenhyphenBEzJ0_0IYgU/s400/IMG02580-20110102-1710.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558107246110317410" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRCiebP0mUGa6Bs6Lg9Z-Fi8fy2nJiCZtsnHQjRQZLYP5rKhKU4lFIaLtgE7Gvdy3Y8mi-FyvkUrlNzLnHPFM4L4tatk2CJJ8hZ2hTN_1fuFIPrN1WDu1dpqPHmwbDGNk4JmyAsFnzvM/s1600/IMG02578-20110102-1708.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRCiebP0mUGa6Bs6Lg9Z-Fi8fy2nJiCZtsnHQjRQZLYP5rKhKU4lFIaLtgE7Gvdy3Y8mi-FyvkUrlNzLnHPFM4L4tatk2CJJ8hZ2hTN_1fuFIPrN1WDu1dpqPHmwbDGNk4JmyAsFnzvM/s400/IMG02578-20110102-1708.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558107243134639314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnipJmJ3IhCutd1wXrf21rkqHXX2dEXBaR_QnYqvk8faYuGe3mV2FzkjCAgPZ0X2ztHnRVZEgTQqU11wzMHsbdilWtmZYr62L8CQtxstFaz4y3BZpiMsTjGyOZqDKVptgLcOnnRf-9Pc/s1600/IMG02576-20110102-1707.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAnipJmJ3IhCutd1wXrf21rkqHXX2dEXBaR_QnYqvk8faYuGe3mV2FzkjCAgPZ0X2ztHnRVZEgTQqU11wzMHsbdilWtmZYr62L8CQtxstFaz4y3BZpiMsTjGyOZqDKVptgLcOnnRf-9Pc/s400/IMG02576-20110102-1707.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558107217836045266" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vhVuKwtZNeYxAPehenCgZhEBXEIGjoLzJi8A7sQcXCFXEIuOhptjdeC_gQlxE64cvC2NmqnGhRciyctbtX6JPSOPKzQtPzejV_dappmQFrj1t6E1cNUeZ4ipRnUoWnv4g2gXU_PuQDI/s1600/IMG02574-20110102-1706.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3vhVuKwtZNeYxAPehenCgZhEBXEIGjoLzJi8A7sQcXCFXEIuOhptjdeC_gQlxE64cvC2NmqnGhRciyctbtX6JPSOPKzQtPzejV_dappmQFrj1t6E1cNUeZ4ipRnUoWnv4g2gXU_PuQDI/s400/IMG02574-20110102-1706.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558107215595047330" /></a><br /><br /><br />Steven Bishop: Christian Dior - J'Adore (Mountain Gout), 2008<br />Steven Bishop: It's Hard To Make A Stand, 2009<br />Caragh Thuring: 409, 2008<br />Tom Ellis: The Dogs, 2010<br />Gareth Cadwallader: Dead Horse, 2010<br />Luke Gottelier: Ice Cream-Headed Birdman Fucking An Antelope, 2010<br />Maurizio Anzeri: Rebecca, 2009<br /><br />Sunt sigur că o să vă daţi seama ce titlu corespunde fiecărei lucrări.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-71423407763421921522010-12-30T18:05:00.000-08:002010-12-30T18:16:50.113-08:00Gasit cu placere, prin arhivele virtuale, chiar daca prenumele mi-a fost usor distorsionat, un scurt eseu scris de subsemnatul pe la 19-20 de ani. <br /><br />http://gandurilamiezulnoptii.redbyte.ro/?id=<br /><br />Redat mai jos, fara diacritice si corecturi si cu toata inocenta siropoasa si patimasa a penitei la prima iubire. :)<br /><br /><br />SCURT TRATAT DESPRE FEMEIE<br /><br /><br />Ea statea dincolo de umbre. Nu avea ochi, membre sau organe interne. Avea, in schimb, privire, miscari si sange. In sine reprezenta intelesul deplin al caderii.<br /><br />Pleca de jos si alegea cele mai inalte culmi pentru o sinucidere calma, calda. Urletul era suspin.<br /><br />Intotdeauna. Pentru moarte alegea intotdeauna Chanel.<br /><br />Nu avea o pasiune pentru negru in adevaratul sens al cuvantului. Emana insa negrul ca pe un parfum al carnii in care urma sa locuiasca. Ea a fost tarzie de la inceput. Nu a fost pasarea, a fost aripa. Motiv pentru care numai femeia e zbor, numai caderea ei din zbor inalta.<br /><br />Traia singura in centrul orasului. Dintr-o cafenea observand-o ai fi putut spune ca are picioare lungi. De fapt, era doar indecenta. Se cultiva la biblioteca centrala, opera si drogherie. Purta aur si tocuri de sapte centimetri. Cand avea chef facea cariera. Cand se plictisea, facea dragoste. Cand nu mai avea ce face, iubea.<br /><br />Era atat de stilata incat devenea primitiva. Timiditatea ii era perversiune. Avea un talent de a-si cultiva dezamagirile. Le pastra. Le hranea si apoi le dadea voie s-o devoreze. Se intindea goala, cu picioarele desfacute si evalua efectul lacrimilor asupra pielii. Nul. Atunci a renuntat la ele. Si a ramas trista. Trista ca un fel de floare pe care ar fi elaborat-o cerul in timpul unei clipe de declin. I se intampla sa aiba o religiozitate aproape fanatica. Isi aprindea lumanari la capatai cand i se parea ca a fost ucisa. De cele mai multe ori pleca dor pentru a se intoarce inapoi.<br /><br />In istoria ea este conversatia, niciodata cuvantul. Nu traieste. Respira din aerul unui eden ce este pe cale sa apara.Cel care ar salva-o. Caci in femeie a existat mereu nevoia de salvare. O salvare de ea insasi. Nu corupe decat in masura in care e corupta de la natura. Sangele ei nu e rosu. E trandafiriu. Nu rade. Zambeste. Caci ea este fecunda in mister. Nu ea se ascunde dupa ape. Apele se ascund dupa ea, femeia fiind un inec latent, sigur. Dintre obsesii, ea este culmea. Treci prin toate obsesiile ca sa te prabusesti in ea. De aceea, moartea este o femeie. Adica singura.<br /><br />Ca sa-si gaseasca dumnezeul, trece pe la toti ceilalti. Cand il gaseste isi atinge propria-i frangere. Se lasa linsa in frangere. Toate ranile o penetreaza, sangele ii curge invers, il vomita pe toate gurile deschise. Apoi se declanseaza gratia.<br /><br />Adagio-ul celulelor, irisii decadenti, retina sedata, toate pleoapele de inger inchizandu-se pe umerii tandri ai inimii ei.<br /><br />Femeia nu se ridica. Iremediabil, orice inaltime e o cadere. Coastele ei sunt curbate inspre plamani, sufocandu-i. De aceea, nu respira, ci se respira. Este ultima tacere. Cea in care nu mai cunosti, ci te recunosti. Nu este o palma intinsa, este un pumn inclestat. Dar un pumn ce se deschide mai larg decat orice palma.<br /><br />Este cumplit de frumoasa cand merge pe bulevard si-si aduce trupul pe scaunul din fata ta. Ea doreste cafea si ea fumeaza. Tu o contempli, ea se lasa intru contemplare. Nu daruieste, ea daruindu-se. Isi adora goliciunea. Caci in esenta, cu adevarat nuda nu este decat femeia.<br /><br />Femeia este o tarfa. Instinctul de tarfa este sublimul din ea. Templul in care ai putea sa crezi. Templul care te-ar putea sfarama. Paradoxal, ea devine unicul maine. Blestemata iluzie. Universul e aberant, suferinta se ia cu doza, cerul e un hau pe care incepi sa-l vezi si care debuteaza cu tine...dar...ea este...<br /><br />Se intoarce la aceiasi masa, te intreaba din priviri daca esti gata sa ucizi in numele ei. Ii spui "da". Te roaga sa incepi cu ea. E un fel al ei de a se iubi pe sine. Te invita acasa, iti vorbeste de durere, de extaz. De fapt, ea nu simte durerea, ci durerea o simte pe ea. Poti intui cati zei s-au impiedicat prin peretii ei.<br /><br />Ceea ce este frustrant la femeie este ca atunci cand o omori, ea nu moare. Ea atunci incepe sa traiasca, sa-si imprumute aerul cu buze discrete, de virgina.<br /><br />De fapt, femeia ingenuncheaza imediat dupa tine, niciodata inainte.<br /><br /><br /><br />Michel Martin, 2003Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-22109599741606022162010-12-30T17:33:00.000-08:002010-12-30T17:36:18.872-08:00Exorcismul maicii domnului<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfNItoBCDDU_twh2dvxtY_0MMq6lNrpw17GfDtppPxGzVUxJ78vd4NvLn6JYAxb9Bw1mV0FBas12Eyp1vxLHAL_xtmNlM-BzPEgZxbAQjpt9mANO-eOqL3cY-HkrlNc3hb19XCir4Dak/s1600/KahloF1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfNItoBCDDU_twh2dvxtY_0MMq6lNrpw17GfDtppPxGzVUxJ78vd4NvLn6JYAxb9Bw1mV0FBas12Eyp1vxLHAL_xtmNlM-BzPEgZxbAQjpt9mANO-eOqL3cY-HkrlNc3hb19XCir4Dak/s400/KahloF1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556654049989385474" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />exorcismul va începe acum spuse preotul şi se <br />aşeză în faţa mea nu am mai văzut preoţi să îngenuncheze în faţa posedaţilor <br />vorbitori de aramaică bubele mele cresc albe şi cancerigene pe faţa înmuiată <br />în clor pe picioare firele de păr mi se infectează sub piele lungi de patru centimetri<br />am unghii de cal la picioare şi din ochi îmi curge un lichid similar cu mucozităţile vaginale<br />iezii nu dau din copite iezii nu au copite şi nici sex pentru făcut sex<br />pe gură îmi ies bârfitori împuţiţi de tutun cu buricele degetelor strangulez<br />un gât care se simte a fiind al meu dar nu mai ştiu ar putea fi al unuia dintre demoni<br />cinci demoni stau chirciţi în mine şi aşteaptă<br />preotul îmi arde osul cu crucea din dinţi trăncăneşte o rugăciune medievală<br />sunt îmbrăcată într-o rochie de marie elisabetă dar sunt sfios ca un călugăr <br />unul din demonii din mine îşi spune numele tare atat de tare încât <br />preotul cade în patru labe şi bolboroseşte lucruri despre maica domnului<br />dar eu sunt maica domnului eu sunt maica domnului şi din pieptul meu au supt <br />prooroci şi putreziţi au căzut între pietre sânii mei frumoşi de model vogue<br />sunt rupt dintr-o fotografie cu lesbiene familia aşteaptă la parter cu sicriul pregătit<br />aşteaptă ca exorcismul să fie făcut dar la fel şi demonii mei aşteaptă şi<br />pe rând îşi strigă numele iar preotul se înconvoaie ca un nou născut de 86 de kilograme<br />are păr pe burtă şi în jurul sfârcurilor nu îmi plac bărbaţii cu păr <br />mă arunc pe geam şi alerg în grădina ghetsimani alerg şi iuda îmi deschide poarta<br />la mormânt îmi spune ai murit fericito ai murit craiule divin iuda este gol şi pieptul lui<br />este plin de sudoare grasă o sudoare care face ca limba mea să se muşte singură <br />în carapacea-i de flegme iuda nu ştie că eu sunt maica domnului că am venit să <br />mă încalece măgari şi berbeci şi din rodul lor să fac mântuitori de rang nobil<br />este cald în sicriu şi mi-au îndesat vată în nări şi pe un furtun îmi scurg maţele dar <br />preotul mă exorcizează încă şi roba lui miroase a cartofi şi ţărână îmi spune<br />familia pregăteşte parastasul cu vin şi cu peşti cruzi<br />măslinii din grădina ghetsimani sunt lucioşi ca o lună unsă cu grăsime de porc<br />şi pământul pe care calc este ca praful bicarbonat iuda mă urmează pe un drum lăturalnic<br />pe care numai el pare să îl cunoască<br />amândoi ştim că demonii nu vor pleca din mine că stau pe un plămân pe un rinichi pe<br />vezica urinară pe clitoris şi pe coapsa dreaptă <br />pe furtun se scurg ibuprofen şi spirulină şi irisul ochilor cuiva albastru<br />preotul stropeşte corpul maicii domnului cu apă sfântă şi cântă despre adormirea veşnică<br />acum stau întreg şi bulgări cad peste capacul închis şi faţa mea este înnegrită<br />familia mea îmi scoate rochia mă îmbracă într-un costum de ginere<br />şi buzele mi le rujează preotul le sărută <br />iuda s-a oprit în drum cu lanterna aprinsă şi plânsul lui trezeşte creaturile pădurii plânsul<br />lui face ca inima mea să bată mai tareMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-67880886717644589122010-10-21T15:36:00.000-07:002010-10-21T15:47:52.750-07:00Futurist Manifesto of Lust (1913) by Valentine de Saint-Point<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPGiQTQzjh7cLyXjrZ8ZqJsZdHaWB43tLUznR83VWpJ03PA10Z2JnqyEYoYusT6Yeocj_WcZpeEHzx4h_FyWoEDV-gb-k7tENyR5SoNwODmEJK4JSR8Xws6c4admYhePqVk7rFymgdL4/s1600/veins.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibPGiQTQzjh7cLyXjrZ8ZqJsZdHaWB43tLUznR83VWpJ03PA10Z2JnqyEYoYusT6Yeocj_WcZpeEHzx4h_FyWoEDV-gb-k7tENyR5SoNwODmEJK4JSR8Xws6c4admYhePqVk7rFymgdL4/s400/veins.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530634301456744322" /></a><br />A reply to those dishonest journalists who twist phrases to make the Idea seem ridiculous;<br />to those women who only think what I have dared to say;<br />to those for whom Lust is still nothing but a sin;<br />to all those who in Lust can only see Vice, just as in Pride they see only vanity.<br /><br />Lust, when viewed without moral preconceptions and as an essential part of life’s dynamism, is a force.<br />→→Lust is not, any more than pride, a mortal sin for the race that is strong. Lust, like pride, is a virtue that urges one on, a powerful source of energy.<br />→→Lust is the expression of a being projected beyond itself. It is the painful joy of wounded flesh, the joyous pain of a flowering. And whatever secrets unite these beings, it is a union of flesh. It is the sensory and sensual synthesis that leads to the greatest liberation of spirit. It is the communion of a particle of humanity with all the sensuality of the earth.<br />→→LUST IS THE QUEST OF THE FLESH FOR THE UNKNOWN, just as Celebration is the spirit’s quest for the unknown. Lust is the act of creating, it is Creation.<br />→→Flesh creates in the way that the spirit creates. In the eyes of the Universe their creation is equal. One is not superior to the other and creation of the spirit depends on that of the flesh.<br />→→We possess body and spirit. To curb one and develop the other shows weakness and is wrong. A strong man must realize his full carnal and spiritual potentiality. The satisfaction of their lust is the conquerors’ due. After a battle in which men have died, IT IS NORMAL FOR THE VICTORS, PROVEN IN WAR, TO TURE TO RAPE IN THE CONQUERED LAND, SO THAT LIFE MAY BE RE-CREATED.<br />→→When they have fought their battles, soldiers seek sensual pleasures, in which their constantly battling energies can be unwound and renewed. The modern hero, the hero in any field, experiences the same desire and the same pleasure. The artist, that great universal medium, has the same need. And the exaltation of the initiates of those religions still sufficiently new to contain a tempting element of the unknown, is no more than sensuality diverted spiritually towards a sacred female image.<br /><br />ART AND WAR ARE THE GREAT MANIFESTATIONS OF SENSUALITY; LUST IS THEIR FLOWER. A people exclusively spiritual or a people exclusively carnal would be condemned to the same decadence—sterility.<br />→→LUST EXCITES ENERGY AND RELEASES STRENGTH. Pitilessly it drove primitive man to victory, for the pride of bearing back a woman the spoils of the defeated. Today it drives the great men of business who run the banks, the press and international trade to increase their wealth by creating centers, harnessing energies and exalting the crowds, to worship and glorify with it the object of their lust. These men, tired but strong, find time for lust, the principal motive force of their action and of the reactions caused by their actions affecting multitudes and worlds.<br />→→Even among the new peoples where sensuality has not yet been released or acknowledged, and who are neither primitive brutes nor the sophisticated representatives of the old civilizations, woman is equally the great galvanizing principle to which all is offered. The secret cult that man has for her is only the unconscious drive of a lust as yet barely woken. Amongst these peoples as amongst the peoples of the north, but for different reasons, lust is almost exclusively concerned with procreation. But lust, under whatever aspects it shows itself, whether they are considered normal or abnormal, is always the supreme spur.<br />→→The animal life, the life of energy, the life of the spirit, sometimes demand a respite. And effort for effort’s sake calls inevitably for effort for pleasure’s sake. These efforts are not mutually harmful but complementary, and realize fully the total being.<br />→→For heroes, for those who create with the spirit, for dominators of all fields, lust is the magnificent exaltation of their strength. For every being it is a motive to surpass oneself with the simple aim of self-selection, of being noticed, chosen, picked out.<br />→→Christian morality alone, following on from pagan morality, was fatally drawn to consider lust as a weakness. Out of the healthy joy which is the flowering of the flesh in all its power it has made something shameful and to be hidden, a vice to be denied. It has covered it with hypocrisy, and this has made a sin of it.<br />→→WE MUST STOP DESPISING DESIRE, this attraction at once delicate and brutal between two bodies, of whatever sex, two bodies that want each other, striving for unity. We must stop despising Desire, disguising it in the pitiful clothes of old and sterile sentimentality.<br />It is not lust that disunites, dissolves and annihilates. It is rather the mesmerizing complications of sentimentality, artificial jealousies, words that inebriate and deceive, the rhetoric of parting and eternal fidelities, literary nostalgia—all the histrionics of love.<br />→→WE MUST GET RID OF THE ILL-OMENED DEBRIS OR ROMANTICISM, counting daisy petals, moonlight duets, heavy endearments, false hypocritical modesty. When beings are drawn together by a physical attraction, let them—instead of talking only of the fragility of their hearts—dare to express their desires, the inclinations of their bodies, and to anticipate the possibilities of joy and disappointment in their future carnal union.<br />→→Physical modesty, which varies according to time and place, has only the ephemeral value of a social virtue.<br />→→WE MUST FACE UP TO LUST IN FULL CONSCIOUSNESS. We must make of it what a sophisticated and intelligent being makes of himself and of his life; WE MUST MAKE LUST INTO A WORK OF ART. To allege unwariness or bewilderment in order to explain an act of love is hypocrisy, weakness and stupidity.<br />→→We should desire a body consciously, like any other thing.<br />→→Love at first sight, passion or failure to think, must not prompt us to be constantly giving ourselves, nor to take beings, as we are usually inclined to do so due to our inability to see into the future. We must choose intelligently. Directed by our intuition and will, we should compare the feelings and desires of the two partners and avoid uniting and satisfying any that are unable to complement and exalt each other.<br />Equally consciously and with the same guiding will, the joys of this coupling should lead to the climax, should develop its full potential, and should permit to flower all the seeds sown by the merging of two bodies. Lust should be made into a work of art, formed like every work of art, both instinctively and consciously.<br />→→WE MUST STRIP LUST OF ALL THE SENTIMENTAL VEILS THAT DISFIGURE IT. These veils were thrown over it out of mere cowardice, because smug sentimentality is so satisfying. Sentimentality is comfortable and therefore demeaning.<br />→→In one who is young and healthy, when lust clashes with sentimentality, lust is victorious. Sentiment is a creature of fashion, lust is eternal. Lust triumphs, because it is the joyous exaltation that drives one beyond oneself, the delight in possession and domination, the perpetual victory from which the perpetual battle is born anew, the headiest and surest intoxication of conquest. And as this certain conquest is temporary, it must be constantly won anew.<br />→→Lust is a force, in that it refines the spirit by bringing to white heat the excitement of the flesh. The spirit burns bright and clear from a healthy, strong flesh, purified in the embrace. Only the weak and sick sink into the mire and are diminished. And lust is a force in that it kills the weak and exalts the strong, aiding natural selection.<br />Lust is a force, finally, in that it never leads to the insipidity of the definite and the secure, doled out by soothing sentimentality. Lust is the eternal battle, never finally won. After the fleeting triumph, even during the ephemeral triumph itself, reawakening dissatisfaction spurs a human being, driven by an orgiastic will, to expand and surpass himself.<br />→→Lust is for the body what an ideal is for the spirit—the magnificent Chimaera, that one ever clutches at but never captures, and which the young and the avid, intoxicated with the vision, pursue without rest.<br />→→LUST IS A FORCE.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Apollonio, Umbro, ed. Documents of 20th Century Art: Futurist Manifestos. Brain, Robert, R.W. Flint, J.C. Higgitt, and Caroline Tisdall, trans. New York: Viking Press, 1973. 70-74.<br /><br /><br />This English-language translation COPYRIGHT ©1973 Thames and Hudson Ltd, London. All rights reserved.<br /><br /><br />Painting by Cy Twombly at Tate ModernMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-88604338236503406682010-10-13T06:19:00.000-07:002010-10-13T06:26:31.353-07:00Howl at the British Film Festival<object style="background-image:url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/Ba9yazkl0UE/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ba9yazkl0UE?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ba9yazkl0UE?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-6857552740049172812010-06-28T13:56:00.000-07:002010-06-28T13:56:53.249-07:00Requiem, Lacrimosa - Mozart<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rpa-THiJJYY&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Rpa-THiJJYY&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="425" height="344" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><br />My latest obsessionMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-8160586878507884672010-05-11T16:32:00.000-07:002010-05-11T16:34:01.335-07:00Piano madness<object style="background-image:url(http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/oeOHnz8ONVk/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oeOHnz8ONVk&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oeOHnz8ONVk&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="480" height="295" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-60288726806205555472010-04-29T03:05:00.000-07:002010-04-29T03:20:12.030-07:00London Calling<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGn9fGc3QGe3AH5U8eSQ4rbHuObL7HOI8HdMUvtuiUwNh3ziUP9m80LqlPcAEpw93Oz0MULKFZkeI0KNk7UZfLA74FKlsK3e2L1Mkf8bMQsMEkYXB4p-9DuTsfzqaZbEHIL1yqrgcmKZo/s1600/london+calling.jpg"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy_lQ9k34mw9PnFbTJVoX1RiutYBbUN5cHFxoOXx_vjI9ENetAsS4hd0rLzexOuYZucBJ_xseVpU38njXH75Yv86etQPDBFgIPY6hq_cGHAwVPEz9_M8fFPrcxa0lelA0fkG8ME78TQp4/s320/closer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465499356011356530" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhH79Ji787rNmRWtM2kqM5QzaX6RwjKgKta3M1QLTGBJgrVhkAgF3xgm0kd2v9tE5SNPXxp9KpFi8eoXwvHBh2GcrFdQZ1WY5CodyqQNusL9v1ddtjI7_0nUY_p04PoX3JuV0WY1nJeGI/s1600/choose+your+avatar+,+but+don%27t+touch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 261px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhH79Ji787rNmRWtM2kqM5QzaX6RwjKgKta3M1QLTGBJgrVhkAgF3xgm0kd2v9tE5SNPXxp9KpFi8eoXwvHBh2GcrFdQZ1WY5CodyqQNusL9v1ddtjI7_0nUY_p04PoX3JuV0WY1nJeGI/s320/choose+your+avatar+,+but+don%27t+touch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465499347875445970" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00HPO0ivo6A20xU8gv-2R470fsB5T8QiKVmkyYarTxXBBkQYSbPGM_jCAmb6lguIqPO9zM7oZ9EyWChExQEGhhUlJqw8hdocvPR4CimWeecUwO-3vZZcFEeNf5lLzdDvGwPxotc1xC-g/s1600/ants.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00HPO0ivo6A20xU8gv-2R470fsB5T8QiKVmkyYarTxXBBkQYSbPGM_jCAmb6lguIqPO9zM7oZ9EyWChExQEGhhUlJqw8hdocvPR4CimWeecUwO-3vZZcFEeNf5lLzdDvGwPxotc1xC-g/s320/ants.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465499341303148290" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AbrqxGACVQvUXQ2g0ubj8EB41eZ2mQLtkRdJqaDCARdsCGyfXMJXu8lDPamVTT8FKAjuv_9gHDtQ9xfvf1cKcnF-hKQ34ENotx403Aqg_SIzF9VVqOBmw_vkVVn2_WJifj6TZrc1UMk/s1600/acelasi+capitol+-+maggie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 311px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AbrqxGACVQvUXQ2g0ubj8EB41eZ2mQLtkRdJqaDCARdsCGyfXMJXu8lDPamVTT8FKAjuv_9gHDtQ9xfvf1cKcnF-hKQ34ENotx403Aqg_SIzF9VVqOBmw_vkVVn2_WJifj6TZrc1UMk/s320/acelasi+capitol+-+maggie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465499336869426962" /></a><br /><br /><br />Photos taken by M.M.<br />Edited by V.V.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-89771396066746343772010-04-28T03:36:00.000-07:002010-04-28T03:38:29.917-07:00:)<object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/iygeiYo6smQ/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iygeiYo6smQ&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iygeiYo6smQ&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="425" height="344" allowScriptAccess="never" allowFullScreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br /><br />I'm sorry but I love Sandra!Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-27461279600422356372010-04-26T11:59:00.001-07:002010-04-26T12:13:08.067-07:00Reasons to visit London this summer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0LP7wRmBcrGdTWWEOfznwxe_85DtLpVTcAZ-HT4t9PLU0fO_tWIRA4ZYAEDUUsyQp3CUx7qBtNWgwWPTBlfyuAivxOhDLKvEJeB_9bkZydAkT6z0fJLDuep1RrUcfkglj4BORYg99Bk/s1600/longvieworangery.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0LP7wRmBcrGdTWWEOfznwxe_85DtLpVTcAZ-HT4t9PLU0fO_tWIRA4ZYAEDUUsyQp3CUx7qBtNWgwWPTBlfyuAivxOhDLKvEJeB_9bkZydAkT6z0fJLDuep1RrUcfkglj4BORYg99Bk/s320/longvieworangery.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464525702033957426" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FQWh2mMj2P03AMFUeHS6Z3PbirksYmKYvbUauxubPhb0ZcsGhHu_QxHyIgx10JCTdUlSR3bO-P6kRyO1nVNXn-TCw4ABFC2dSE6yf2j7kfVWNl3G-df9So9elWRCXvhyphenhyphen4r-8Q9naldA/s1600/EP_Spell_large_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9FQWh2mMj2P03AMFUeHS6Z3PbirksYmKYvbUauxubPhb0ZcsGhHu_QxHyIgx10JCTdUlSR3bO-P6kRyO1nVNXn-TCw4ABFC2dSE6yf2j7kfVWNl3G-df9So9elWRCXvhyphenhyphen4r-8Q9naldA/s320/EP_Spell_large_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464523091698895986" /></a><br />http://www.hrp.org.uk/KensingtonPalace/stories/palacehighlights/EnchantedPalace.aspx<br /><br />Pe lista mea pentru weekendul care vine (impreuna cu lunch in the Orangerie). Asta dupa Afternoon Tea in Mayfair si Aida la Royal Opera House. Sper sa fac cel putin 2 din 3.<br />Si intentionam sa scriu vreo doua randuri despre I am Love. Tot ce pot sa spun acum este ca <em>it didn't live up to my expectations</em>.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-47946155240287008262010-04-24T11:59:00.000-07:002010-04-24T12:06:34.486-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKExQunDgsum_QSvB5y04vACak1TqHgxzXMDo4CzD1KHFfRkAVltSCxtjZwBPvOMy3bXDU4bx-E3RiDSW3hfnXgk3YkKJNhZnrARC5y3rfPekxVnPDUXl1Z8WBie3F1SE_ZKvEhibZg_0/s1600/I-Am-Love-exclusive-poste-012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKExQunDgsum_QSvB5y04vACak1TqHgxzXMDo4CzD1KHFfRkAVltSCxtjZwBPvOMy3bXDU4bx-E3RiDSW3hfnXgk3YkKJNhZnrARC5y3rfPekxVnPDUXl1Z8WBie3F1SE_ZKvEhibZg_0/s320/I-Am-Love-exclusive-poste-012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463780826547274418" /></a><br /><br />On my way to see it... !Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-63997795116650332562010-04-13T04:09:00.000-07:002010-04-13T04:13:32.056-07:00Femeia aceasta trebuie răpită din carnavalul domestic, dar doar pentru a fi restituită cu reflexii noi, cu străluciri tăioase prin care sexul trosnind al ideaticului ei, să înflorească. <br />Ea este un liliac care stă prins în părul lung al celuilalt. <br /><br /><em>Am regăsit aceste rânduri într-un text de acum aproape 2 ani.</em>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-34907677852869137552010-04-06T13:28:00.000-07:002010-04-06T13:38:58.818-07:00And so it is<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVJnyJPlPXVoOFNatSP_U-xgFWKSpmIpMm71oF6jR0pLha4pUCWt7Gaa49SwW9Hkb4who7KelgU0h_TLzvjbc5H28M2mi7T9Odw32fk6QrlT515qpdandnLf4mV8JfzZC3QMTp3bvlg8/s1600/1yr.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 108px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVJnyJPlPXVoOFNatSP_U-xgFWKSpmIpMm71oF6jR0pLha4pUCWt7Gaa49SwW9Hkb4who7KelgU0h_TLzvjbc5H28M2mi7T9Odw32fk6QrlT515qpdandnLf4mV8JfzZC3QMTp3bvlg8/s320/1yr.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457126120403875954" /></a><br />Este uimitor cum încă se mai vorbeşte despre poezie. Cum încă se mai vorbeşte despre valoare, despre non-valoare, despre autenticitate şi mascaradă. Este umitoare existenţa miştocarilor. A celor care bat câmpii pe marginea a ce ar trebui să fie şi nu e, a ceea ce înseamnă cu adevărat una sau alta. Şi asta în favoarea sarcasmului fin care generează umor. Este umitor că mai există catalogatori şi judecători într-un sistem care funcţionează cel mai bine în absenţa oricăror reguli şi etichete. Este uimitor că mai există gălăgie şi spume la gură de invidie. Că bărbaţii mai vor femei. Că bărbaţii mai vor bărbaţi. Că femeile mai vor bărbaţi. Că femeile mai vor femei. Că mai sunt indivizi care se afectează, care dezaprobă, care taie şi spânzură. Că nu se înţelege odată că lumea aceea din care vorbeşte fiecare nu este singura şi ea nu are importanţă reală decât pentru posesorul ei. Că nimănui nu-i pasă de lalelele din grădina vecinului. Nici măcar din greşeală. Că nimeni nu ascultă. Este uimitor că se mai face polemică şi că discuţiile în contradictoriu mai sunt privite drept interesante. Că şi ştiind asta, ele încă se mai practică. Este uimitor idealismul pur şi este umitoare şi absenţa lui. Este uimitoare cantitatea de oameni deosebiţi. Nu poţi întoarce capul fără să întâlneşti unul . Este uimitor că scriem bloguri şi aşteptăm încă să ne citească cineva şi este şi mai umitor că ne bucurăm dacă cineva o face. Este umitor că cineva o face. Şi de ce o face. Este uimitoare dorinţa de popularitate. De aprobare. De lăsat moşteniri. Şi prunci. Şi formule chimice originale. Este uimitor că cei care vor să fie genii încă mai suţin că nu cred în genii. Este umitor că ideea mai circulă încă. Este umitor că mai există oameni care nu se reneagă pe ei înşişi, care nu se trădează, care nu renunţă la ceva. Că se iubesc măştile şi se urăsc mascaţii. Că sunt orbi care văd şi văzători care sunt orbi. Că oamenii cred în ei înşişi realmente. Sau că ştiu ce vor. Sau ce nu vor. Sau ce iubesc. Sau ce nu iubesc. Că se crede în egalitatea pentru toţi, drepturile omului şi pace. Sau în eliminarea rasismului. Este uimitor cum unii vor să fie ceva. Sau cineva. Că se mai aspiră la universalitate şi la glorie. Şi culmea, se aspiră în tăcere. Că oamenii nu ştiu se se critice cu solidaritate. Că sunt copii care nu cresc niciodată mari, dar nu rămân nici copii. Este umitor că am stat să scriu toate acestea. De parcă mi-ar păsa. De parcă mi-ar păsa dacă îmi pasă cu adevărat sau nu. Daca o să se mai întâmple ceva sau nu. Dacă azi e ieri sau e mâine. Sau dacă mă cheamă aşa sau altfel. Dacă sunt sau nu. Ceva sau cineva.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-61393785244102097832010-04-01T17:16:00.000-07:002010-04-02T11:23:09.779-07:00Afternoon Tea<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3tpBHcKsCyN-q8XOmnXYaZsrNz8zP2YuLJbdsbUoHrginRN3lRi7c9rCWm6iXOfmjhpqQ2lahKi6rZk5gvWhEVwKCaMu88SyO39SK1spqRMBpj5B-tDKmVCAAhTt_7AMtw3OzLMJzgQ/s1600/Chesterfield_afternoon_tea.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3tpBHcKsCyN-q8XOmnXYaZsrNz8zP2YuLJbdsbUoHrginRN3lRi7c9rCWm6iXOfmjhpqQ2lahKi6rZk5gvWhEVwKCaMu88SyO39SK1spqRMBpj5B-tDKmVCAAhTt_7AMtw3OzLMJzgQ/s320/Chesterfield_afternoon_tea.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455329258804411570" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pWY2yI_Q73EWnLBFLrojA1FygepeInI_zYpKrZi_0MIoBruqf7XtMbW5l7b_NzY1KAaO6fFjUEdmiTnG4Ccg6unMMwtkj07VPBfZ82vU1ajMCm7Vn-4vWHKL_dKHYLloX7owpkjhJ0s/s1600/Ritz_tea1_600x475_popup_jpg-758301.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pWY2yI_Q73EWnLBFLrojA1FygepeInI_zYpKrZi_0MIoBruqf7XtMbW5l7b_NzY1KAaO6fFjUEdmiTnG4Ccg6unMMwtkj07VPBfZ82vU1ajMCm7Vn-4vWHKL_dKHYLloX7owpkjhJ0s/s320/Ritz_tea1_600x475_popup_jpg-758301.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455328290238242274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijul27tNq5bqgdjGlvncS-wdmENV9va7TvKkxxSLsM0R9Yf2xDiZbHDkZgQ1B49y7OocO0OSqY7jgMMrE4E4v33KHttaC8W8xAMfLPG8rGf6eQyMsQUW_kg7H0qUtQXihboFJc7lhrSf4/s1600/CLA_669_Tea_v1_741.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijul27tNq5bqgdjGlvncS-wdmENV9va7TvKkxxSLsM0R9Yf2xDiZbHDkZgQ1B49y7OocO0OSqY7jgMMrE4E4v33KHttaC8W8xAMfLPG8rGf6eQyMsQUW_kg7H0qUtQXihboFJc7lhrSf4/s320/CLA_669_Tea_v1_741.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455328122640109794" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncVhqzHY1K9PjZO7A7wxSsNs8rakyv-C4ZtHQ03kPBKtOWagnOvat78HipJe2lV6FvRUmPuWEyJraS-nP5nQUerQDUPeCdGeVtRbz0Dhz4QAxMuUs-M_gra05tdkr6mKNIi0eqlcJme0/s1600/afternoontea_img+ritz.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncVhqzHY1K9PjZO7A7wxSsNs8rakyv-C4ZtHQ03kPBKtOWagnOvat78HipJe2lV6FvRUmPuWEyJraS-nP5nQUerQDUPeCdGeVtRbz0Dhz4QAxMuUs-M_gra05tdkr6mKNIi0eqlcJme0/s320/afternoontea_img+ritz.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455327850660760034" /></a><br /><br /><br />Though choice. Should it be Claridge’s, The Ritz, The Chesterfield, The Dorchester or maybe the postmodern Sketch? Where should you spend a little tiny fortune on the glamorous English tea? With royal cheese and mouth-watering scones? <br /><br />Before you make any assumptions, I do not earn a lot of money. Not at all. But they all go on gifts, chocolate cakes at exclusive venues, education, books and holidays with hand-picked accommodation. Because you can see any time Dali, Pollok, Da Vinci, the mummies and the Queen for free. <br /><br />First of all, yes it is a very girly activity to be engaged in, but hell… you’re a Romanian who lives in London. You just have to do them all. You just have to sit there in that imperial chair drinking Earl Grey from imperial porcelain and listening to imperial music in the background. I actually work on Imperial Road as well. Which is 10 minutes walk from King’s Road, the very heart of Chelsea. It all sounds very posh, I know, and you can see it that way, if you wish. And no, I am not sweeping the floor nor do I change the bed sheets for a living.<br /><br />Also on your way back to Romania (driving because it’s more fun and in a cheap car which you will bin when you get back) you definitely have to stop to Paris (no, you can’t pretend it’s not there or that you’ve seen it enough), Baden-Baden, any place in Switzerland (but in the vicinity of a lake), Milan, all Tuscany (including Island of Elba if you can’t do Corsica) and reach Brasov in the end where you will feel as good as in all the other places. Maybe even better. Just because you don’t live there anymore. And for some stupid reason you love your country more when you’re away. And when you return you have to explain to English people how the hell you can afford such a nice holiday when you earn what you earn and you have to start again telling them the story about how Romanians are used to be posh on 200 pounds a month. Less or more. <br /><br />Back to the afternoon tea. Well, the bunch of people I am going with (and you all think now they are either all gay or all girls or a selection of both) don’t fancy the aristocratic curtains in the Ritz. They want something more …21st century. Where they can laugh and not get kicked out.<br />So, I can only assume it’s going to be Sketch. Where you have to book 25 years in advance and you will still be probably queuing to get in. The place is in the Regent Street area, this should ring a bell.<br />So I will save The Ritz for when I meet my intellectual 65 years old friends who remind me about that particular London before 674 countries came and over-populated it. <br /><br />There is one more question. Whom would you actually take with you for afternoon tea? I have 3 people in my mind (separate meetings, of course). They are not dead famous people. All three of them are alive, and they managed to keep me interested for quite a long time (each for different reasons). And they all love –in their own way- food artistry and delicatessen ;). As long as it comes packed with opera tickets, a visit to an art gallery or a fanatic shopping session.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-5697393497141071432010-03-31T09:14:00.000-07:002010-03-31T09:17:35.582-07:00Endlessness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhllOIFL9XnINRDK0YsrFRcEIajLbXFeQYOpcfrvSsyfaO6-5yHPhYEoD9JvD9UjaXyYXGvs8nujBXxger635Vlr1-BclLkojcMoFMJ7vB0LSCgr7Z0ZrIcXi5vDRvUhnWzN_PE9GQ4zlE/s1600/0006UVF.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhllOIFL9XnINRDK0YsrFRcEIajLbXFeQYOpcfrvSsyfaO6-5yHPhYEoD9JvD9UjaXyYXGvs8nujBXxger635Vlr1-BclLkojcMoFMJ7vB0LSCgr7Z0ZrIcXi5vDRvUhnWzN_PE9GQ4zlE/s320/0006UVF.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454832838151386882" /></a><br />Now that I actually abandoned the thought of swapping London for a life in Bermuda, I am very much loved up with St. Lucia. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a particular interest for the Caribbean, but there is something impossibly attractive about these small places, surrounded by water, forgotten by the grey cosmopolitism. Places you can't even see on the map if you don't zoom in. Places where you are the other and the otherness takes your identity and you are one and the same thing with all that is unknown in the world. And the beauty of your disappearance is undeniable. Speaking Kweyol.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-20620179274344231722010-03-20T09:00:00.001-07:002010-03-20T09:01:31.849-07:00Guggenheim Museum Bilbao - the most beautiful thing some people have ever seen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixv8F8Bi8gU0wnzFyePW1G9-I3v_o17FxzuB7MOVywDLeFxWpPxLN1Zgyz419ZKUmD_zD8fmqx7RBXk9xRKm7UXfsEsMuuPqMe4j3_KOiKSfLmM4eAJrhgWrW2YC4dBs_ho0VVIahUcHg/s1600-h/Guggenheim-Museum-Bilbao-Spain.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixv8F8Bi8gU0wnzFyePW1G9-I3v_o17FxzuB7MOVywDLeFxWpPxLN1Zgyz419ZKUmD_zD8fmqx7RBXk9xRKm7UXfsEsMuuPqMe4j3_KOiKSfLmM4eAJrhgWrW2YC4dBs_ho0VVIahUcHg/s320/Guggenheim-Museum-Bilbao-Spain.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450746674394396146" /></a>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-9902393116018126732010-03-15T18:07:00.001-07:002010-03-15T18:16:14.268-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9so_F5hPmpVWMuvAoAnvDxGoIp6xGEToKObjj623WTdfijilLbp3tHZReiqYWLFSJiZE05rAOHsKPepoFOkHTr3wu0VE1KCBL1zitGw4iBsvW7aIvsYwdLoLCywnTmDXFSWNhU69e9fY/s1600-h/tibetan_monk_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9so_F5hPmpVWMuvAoAnvDxGoIp6xGEToKObjj623WTdfijilLbp3tHZReiqYWLFSJiZE05rAOHsKPepoFOkHTr3wu0VE1KCBL1zitGw4iBsvW7aIvsYwdLoLCywnTmDXFSWNhU69e9fY/s320/tibetan_monk_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449034240562896338" /></a><br />This precious human life, a boat that can carry us<br />To higher wisdom and eternal happiness,<br />Has only now been gained. If we do not use it<br />To travel to the jewel island of enlightment,<br />And instead allow ourselves to die empty-handed,<br />Are the very veins of our heart not corroded?<br /><br /><br /><em><strong>Fifth Dalai Lama (1617-1682)<br />Instructions of Manjushri</strong></em>Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-59829936781985183052010-03-12T12:15:00.000-08:002010-03-12T12:27:22.124-08:00Tribute<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcokK78h3755_hviSv7oXk-VXW9F4jERx6N70F4ZPmH91mTmscDR2BwCUY9i8wbw8pdw6DE_ey1Zo6I8KGTAOFQ9EWy3l7fs4A2d9qhKLjW5xB6Yhf4ON8qyKtlGMa75La9-TpmOI1GOQ/s1600-h/image378.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcokK78h3755_hviSv7oXk-VXW9F4jERx6N70F4ZPmH91mTmscDR2BwCUY9i8wbw8pdw6DE_ey1Zo6I8KGTAOFQ9EWy3l7fs4A2d9qhKLjW5xB6Yhf4ON8qyKtlGMa75La9-TpmOI1GOQ/s320/image378.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447846622930214322" /></a><br /><br />my next project is to rent a room in tate modern<br />where acclaimed and award winning artists from all over the world<br />can come and write on the walls <br />how worthless they –think- I am<br />champagne will be served<br /><br />I’ll stand in the audience wearing a very tight black dress<br />in disguise<br />while all of them will wonder <br />how would it be like to fuck that incredibly sexy womanMichel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-36427037947616782702010-03-10T14:51:00.000-08:002010-03-10T17:37:23.126-08:00Alice in Wonderland or where did I leave my hat?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbCvVisYB4_Q0OHIpDxniNvISiwUj9BXLCzC9vJFI3MgGTzwE42h-iGQmp5zoGEry4LYfGep-QPVkAB-BUWNIUc1GO9ami0OLJnQYqJbPLRo83T67x105qel5_aCKGkBhByJLlJUnub8/s1600-h/alice-in-wonderland-2010-20090721105726439_640w.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbCvVisYB4_Q0OHIpDxniNvISiwUj9BXLCzC9vJFI3MgGTzwE42h-iGQmp5zoGEry4LYfGep-QPVkAB-BUWNIUc1GO9ami0OLJnQYqJbPLRo83T67x105qel5_aCKGkBhByJLlJUnub8/s320/alice-in-wonderland-2010-20090721105726439_640w.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447142337290637826" /></a><br /><br />You don’t go to see a Hollywood film expecting a meaningful experience. It won’t happen. It is your duty to predict disappointment, embrace it and begin the viewing process from that point onwards. Isn’t it rather dull to spend at least half an hour criticizing a piece of work which was never intended to identify with what you call…quality? Acknowledge the boundaries set by consumerism and move on. Enjoy the bits. Play with the freedom of interpretation; personalize the time you invest in the process.<br /><br />So, I went to see <em><strong>Alice in Wonderland</strong></em>, avoiding carefully preconceived ideas which could not possibly help as I was decided to see it anyway. <br /><br />I loved the Mad Hatter/ Johnny Depp. I loved them both, 2 in 1. The acting, the looks… I mean, who doesn’t love red haired creatures with mad green eyes? Especially when they’re hat designers, serve tea, have rabbits and mice as friends and they wear beautifully tailored costumes in hypnotic colours; not to mention the purple/ pink lipstick and the oddly way he speaks English, like a vintage horrific puppet. I wanted to gift-wrap him and take him home.<br /><br />I am not going to talk about the plot, as you already guessed, it is not worth it. Mainly because I don’t care about the <em>Alice</em> part, I care about the <em>Wonderland</em> part. We all know the ancient battle between Good and Evil. It’s all the same thing, over and over again, dressed up differently.<br />Great acting from Helena Bonham Carter/the Red Queen, I wasn’t impressed with the White Queen/Anne Hathaway though…<br /><br />I particularly enjoyed Alice’s body size alternation; it was kind of revelatory if you’ve got enough innocence in yourself to trace back childhood memories when the table was way above you. (It reminded me of the <em>Table and Four Chairs</em>, the sculpture by Robert Therrien that I've seen last week at Tate Modern). Well, it was delightfully suggestive and thought-provoking in terms of proportion shifts. How does it feel to be trapped in a tea pot? <br /><br />I did take this film as a surrealist treat, although it is far from being a surrealist work. I engaged myself in the potency of dream-world and I allowed myself to imagine how a surrealist painter would have chopped off the raw material offered by the Hollywood producers. There’s nothing wrong with non-art in art, as long as it supplies some kind of foundation for further investigation.<br /><br />I have digested really well my lecture on Freud this evening after seeing the film. :)<br />And I am really keen on purchasing a good old version of Alice in Wonderland, the book. I might dig up some second hand book stores on Charing Cross Road.<br /><br />P.S. <em><strong>Alice in Wonderland</strong></em> has broken the UK box office record in his first weekend of release scoring £10 million, the highest debut for a 3D film surpassing <em><strong>Avatar</strong></em>'s £8.5 million from last year.Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-441106170079005502.post-56952630164808228072010-03-09T17:39:00.001-08:002010-03-09T17:41:40.792-08:00(ne)motivaţiiAm publicat două cărţi de poezie la două edituri diferite şi am sponsorizat financiar apariţia lor. Well, ştiu că în ochii literaţilor acreditaţi, acest lucru mă face un paria lipsit de orice valoare, dar este ok. Adevărul este că nu scriu poezie câştigătoare de premii. Nu umplu paginile revistelor culturale. Sunt un risc pentru piaţa de carte -relativ inexistentă- din România. Sunt capricios, impertinent, infatuat şi alienat mişcărilor creative contemporane. Nu studiez ce se studiază, nu particip la cenacluri, nu am mentori, deci nu sunt un produs al societăţii culturale româneşti. <br />Identitatea îmi este contestată şi îmi admit "vina" pentru acest lucru. Nu m-am prezentat vreodată în carne şi oase vreunei asistenţe, nu mi-am confirmat apartenenţa sau genul, nu mă omogenizez, nu am fişă de prezentare. <br />Revenind la volume, da, am plătit pentru ele, parţial din comoditate şi din dorinţa de a deţine drepturi absolute asupra lor. Asta, bineînţeles, dincolo de faptul că nu ar fi sărit nimeni nerăbdător să investească în ele. Şi ştim cu toţii motivele. Toate motivele. <br />Din poezie nu se trăieşte, slavă domnului. Este una a se trăi din scris şi alta a se trăi din poezie. Poezia mea, mai mult decât orice, nu este vandabilă. Punct. Dacă ar fi, nu ar fi a mea. Ar fi a altcuiva care ar scrie poezie ce ar putea fi vandabilă, asta dacă am considera că poezia se vinde. Poezia este caviar, bijuterie rară. De aceea găsesc remarcabil un interes real pentru poezie. Un interes pur şi necondiţionat. Motiv pentru care, aş vrea să ofer cărţile mele celor care îşi doresc efectiv să le aibă. Care cred în experienţa poetică. Căutătorilor rafinaţi. <br /><br />Cât despre partea cu autograful, ironia va fi înţeleasă de cine trebuie. Asta nu face oferta mai puţin serioasă. ;)Michel Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12088248200014445233noreply@blogger.com3