Viviane Carneiro , Nick Cave Brasil

This relationship inspired Cave’s 1990 album ‘The Good Son’, one of his finest and (ironically) least dark albums. For all of Nick Cave’s darkness, his two ‘love’ records ‘The Good Son’ and especially ‘The Boatman’s Call’ are rare glimpses into Cave’s more romantic emotions - sentiments still expressed with the help of religious metaphor - but with an immediate sincerity.

Do you think that the things like the death squads, pollution and babies being born without brains in Brazil has made a lasting impression on you and your music?

“I think Brazil is a remarkable country in the kind of corruption and the brutality of the government and the social situation there and what it does to people is so evident and so in your face and so inescapable that it can’t just be pocketed away. In that respect, it’s far more brutal than say some place like New York. At the same time it’s much more bearable for me somehow — it’s more honest in a way. I mean even when you get robbed there. I’ve been robbed two or three times, and I don’t feel any kind of bitterness. They’re not going to blow your head off for kicks. They’re not going to drive by your schoolyard and shoot a shotgun into it like it seems to happen more and more regularly in America. It’s awful to see what’s happening to the people there. I didn’t live under a palm tree when I was there; I lived in Sao Paulo, which is the third largest city in the world. It’s just this huge, massive business center in Brazil.

“We made the Do You Love Me? video there. We just sort of pulled together street people there — transvestites, hookers and took them into a sort of sex club there and performed the song to these people who had no idea what the fuck my music is about or anything about me. I got to dress up with a toupee and sort of like a B-grade nightclub singer, and I sang it to them.

“The transvestites there do very odd things like using the sort of industrial silicone that you’d use for your tub, and it’s not the right type. So when they would inject it into their cheeks, a month later it would be in their jowls. It drops and deforms them. A couple of doctors started working to fix these people up, so it’s not as prevalent as before. They only did it because a transsexual there makes more money than a straight guy or a straight woman. When they get ugly, they can’t work so there’s no money and they just live in a cardboard box in the street. It’s much more dangerous in Rio, though. That’s where the police are killing children in the streets. I’d say that if you went there and stayed a week, there’s at least a ninety percent chance of you getting robbed. It’s appalling, really, and you don’t even have to go to the so-called bad neighborhoods for this to happen.”

I’ve heard that you also feel appalled by America.

“I’ve never really said that, but I do have certain problems with America. I have certain problems with the world really. I just think that America seems to be leading the world into a direction that frightens me really.”

I agree. I guess I really only look for little microcosms that I can appreciate.

“I intend to do that too, but I don’t want to have to run away and hide from the world. I mean, I don’t want to have to disassociate myself from the world simply because I have no control over it. What I do on occasion, and the prime reason I lived in Brazil for three years, even though Brazil is a terrifying place in itself, is sort of escape — escape from what I just couldn’t tolerate in the modern world. I don’t really want to do that [anymore]. I mean, I have a child, and I don’t want to gather up my family and sort of escape somewhere because of what the world is becoming, but sometimes it seems like it’s the only thing you can do.”

What do you think people should do to make it not so horrifying?

“I don’t know. I don’t have any answers for that sort of thing. This is just one of those quivering messes. I just don’t know.” 

Never be lucid, never state, if you would be regarded great. Dylan Thomas 1914 - 1953

Nikos Kavvadias: "The poet of the seas and unfulfilled love". 1910 -1975

Nikos Kavvadias was born in 1910 in a small town in Manchuria near Harbin, by Greek parents from Cefallonia. When he was very young, his family returned to Greece.

They lived in Cefallonia for a few years and later from 1921 to 1932 in Pireas, where Nikos Kavvadias finished elementary school and then the Gymnasium. He wrote his first poems as a pupil at the elementary school. In 1929, he started working as a clerk in a shipping office and a few months later he went on board a freighter as a sailor. Over the next few years he continued to travel on the freighters, returning home wretched and penniless, only to take off again shortly after. This went on until he decided to get a diploma as a wireless operator.

At first he wanted to become a captain, but he had already lost too many years wandering around and the wireless operator's diploma was the quicket way out. He got it in 1939 -- but World War II started, he became a soldier and fought in Albania, and, throughout the German Occupation he lived in Athens, landed.

He embarked again in 1944 and travelled continuously, as a wireless operator, all over the world, until November 1974 -- three months before the fatal stroke he suffered on February 10, 1975.

Vardia, his only novel, was published for the first time in 1954. His collection of poems Marabou was published in 1933, Pousi in 1947, and Traverso in 1975. His short stories Li and Of the War/On my Horse were published in 1987. "Li" was produced as a film in 1995 with the title "Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea".

 In the history of Greek literature, Kavvadias is the poet of the seas and unfulfilled love. But he is also the poet of the morals deriving from the relationships between the seamen and the harbor women, between people of different cultural backgrounds. 

A contemporary Odysseus, with the difference that Kavvadias never dreamed of returning back to land. He never looked for his Ithaca. On the contrary, the poet wanted to be buried one day in "some deep sea of the distant Indies", but this did not happen as he died on dry land in 1975. He traveled continuously as a wireless operator on cargo-boats all over the world always in love with the sea. Kavvadias also loved harbors and harbor women. The friend and brother of sailors did not praise Greece, nor the landscapes, the history and the people of his country. The poet does not describe what was going on in his country during the period 1930-1970. We only find references in 2 or 3 poems, which are not part of his poetic collections. 

He won't be found either in the Aegean Sea or in a Greek island. Kavvadias was always on the move. He traveled from Peru to the Far East, from Africa to Western Europe. The poet faced the people of the world, the dreams of the people whose homeland was the ship, living between the sea and the sky. 

His writing, a poetic material based on personal experience, is influenced by many different cultures. It has an international and cosmopolitan character. In Kavvadias' lines we find references to the oil paintings by Goya, the figures of Modigliani and the paintings of Giorgione. Moreover, we can find poems devoted to Lorca and Che Guevara. 

Mal du Depart-Nikos Kavvadias

(translated by: Simon Darragh)

Always the perfect, unworthy lover
of the endless voyage and azure ocean,
I shall die one evening, like any other,
without having crossed the dim horizon.

For Madras, Singapore, Algeria, Sfax,
the proud ships will still be setting sail,
but I shall bend over a chart-covered desk
and look in the ledger, and make out a bill.

I'll give up talking about long journeys,
My friends will think I've forgotten at last;
my mother will be delighted: she'll say
"A young man's fancy, but now it's passed."

But one night my soul will rise up before me,
and ask, like some grim executioner, "Why?"
This unworthy trembling hand will take arms
and fearlessly strike where the blame must lie.

And I, who longed to be buried one day
in some deep sea of the distant Indies
shall come to a dull and common death;
shall go to a grave like the graves of so many.

OS MUTANTES - RITA LEE

São Paulo, Brazil (1966 – present)

Os Mutantes were formed in São Paulo, Brazil, in 1966 by brothers Arnaldo Baptista and Sérgio Dias and lead singer Rita Lee. Active during the Tropicalia movement of the late 1960s, they took Brazilian music and fused it with British rock and American psychedelia to create a distinctive, vibrant sound. Along with Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso and Tom Zé, they helped define the Tropicália movement. 

While still in high school, Rita Lee teamed with brothers Arnaldo Baptista and Sérgio Dias Baptista to form the band. A trio of brash musical experimentalists, the group fiddled with self-made instruments, distortion, feedback, musique concrète, and studio tricks of all kinds to create a lighthearted, playful version of extreme Brazilian music. This was their best creative moment.

While Gil and Veloso were first imprisoned and then exiled to England during the military dictatorship in Brazil (1969-1972) the Mutantes left the Tropicália movement, adding a more psychedelic flavour to their sound.

The 70s seemed to be a time of great upheaval for the band, both creatively and personally. They left behind their “tropicalist” roots and made their first lysergic trip which resulted in the album “Jardim Elétrico” (Eletric Garden) and “O Primeiro Dia do Resto da Sua Vida (rare album - title translates as “The First Day of the Rest of Your Life”). With influences of the progressive band Yes the trio (with Liminha at the bass and Dinho at the drums) made their last album together “Os Mutantes e Seus Cometas no País dos Bauretz”.

<< Οι συμπτώσεις δεν είναι πολυτέλεια, είναι η άλλη όψη του πεπρωμένου καί κάτι επιπλέον >> είπε ο Τζόουνς.
<< Τι άλλο? είπε ο Μορίνι.
<< Κάτι που του διέφευγε του φίλου μου για έναν πολύ απλό και κατανοητό λόγο.Ο φίλος μου πίστευε στην ανθρωπότητα, συνεπώς πίστευε στην τάξη, στην τάξη της ζωγραφικής και στην τάξη του λόγου, διότι η ζωγραφική δεν γίνεται με τίποτα άλλο. Πίστευε στη λύτρωση. Κατά βάθος είναι πιθανό να πίστευε ακόμα και στην πρόοδο.
Η σύμπτωση, αντιθέτως,είναι η απόλυτη ελευθερία στην οποία είμαστε εκτεθειμένοι από την ίδια μας την φύση. Η σύμπτωση δεν υπακούει σε νόμους και αν υπακούει σε κάποιους εμείς τους αγνοούμε. Η σύμπτωση αν μου επιτρέπετε την παρομοίωση είναι σαν Θεός που εκδηλώνεται κάθε δευτερόλεπτο εδώ στον πλανήτη μας.'Ενας Θεός ακατανόητος, με ακατανόητες ενέργειες κατευθυνόμενες στα ακατανόητα πλασματά του. Σ'αυτόν τον τυφώνα, σ'αυτήν την σύνθλιψη οστών, πραγματοποιείται η κοινωνιά.Κοινωνεί το τυχαίο με τα αποτελέσματά του και εμείς κοινωνούμε με τα αποτελέσματα.

αποσπ. 2666 - Roberto Bolano

NIKOS KAZANTZAKIS  1883 - 1957






“Você tem o seu pincel, tem suas tintas, pinte o paraíso e depois entre nele.” 


“Como não podemos mudar a realidade, deixe-nos mudar os olhos com os quais a vemos.” 

Jacinta Passos ( B' μέρος )

Γυναίκα,Ποιήτρια, αρθογράφος,ακτιβίστρια, φεμινίστρια και αριστερή,εξαθλιωμένη,τρελή.Ενα απο τα προπύργια του εικοστού αιώνα στην ποίηση.Πολλά ηταν τα στίγματα που ταλαιπώρησαν την Jacinta Passos.Πιστή μέχρι τέλος σε αυτόν το δρόμο που επέλεξε,πιστή στις ιδέες και αξίες της.Κόντρα στο χρόνο δεν σταμάτησε να σοκάρει τους πάντες.Μια ζωή γεμάτη συγκρούσεις που δεν επιδίωκε να τις αποφύγει,αντιθέτως τις επιζητούσε.Κατέβαλε μεγάλο τίμημα για τις επιλογές της αλλά ποτέ δεν παρουσιάστηκε ως θύμα.Στυλό και δόρυ στο χέρι,σιδερένια ασπίδα στο στήθος , πολεμίστρια αγωνίστηκε κόντρα πολλών ακόμη και ενάντια σε ένα τμήμα του εαυτού της.
Μετά το 1939 με το ξέσπασμα του Β΄Παγκοσμίου πολέμου ασχολήθηκε και με την πολιτική για την παγκόσμια ειρήνη και το τερματισμό της δικτατοριάς .Το δεύτερο βιβλίο της ( Τραγούδι της Αναχώρησης, Sao Paulo , εκδόσεις Gaveta ) που περιέχει 18 ποιήματα έλαβε τις εξαιρετικές κριτικές απο διανοούμενους της εποχής όπως: Aníbal Machado, Antonio Candido, Gabriela Mistral, José Geraldo Vieira, Mário de Andrade, Roger Bastide e Sérgio Milliet.
Για ένα διάστημα έζησε σε συνθήκες ακραίας φτώχιας στην Petrolina ( Pernambuco), αφού διεγνώσθη  οτι έπασχε απο παρανοική σχιζοφρένεια,και το 1962 πήγε στο Aracaju ( Sergipe ).
Εκεί ζούσε μόνη της εξαθλιωμένη σ΄ενα ξύλινο παράπηγμα μέσα σε ένα ψαροχώρι που βρίσκεται απέναντι από την πόλη γράφοντας ασταμάτητα καθ'όλη τη διάρκεια της νύχτας ποιήματα και πολιτικά κείμενα τα οποία η ίδια μοίραζε στους δρόμους την ημέρα.
Επιβίωσε μόνη της στην διάρκεια της στρατιωτικής δικτατορίας και ανέπτυξε έντονη δράση.
Κατέληξε σε ενα σανατόριο αφού συνελήφθη γράφοντας συνθήματα κατα της δικτατορίας στους τοιχους.
Εξέδωσε 4 βιβλία: Ποιήματα μας ( 1942 ) , τραγούδι της φυγής ( 1945 ) , Πολιτικές Ποιήματα ( 1951 ) και η στήλη ( 1957 ) - όλα σε μικρές εκδόσεις .

Graciliano Ramos 1892 - 1953 VIDAS SECAS (1938)

Ο Γκρασιλιάνο Ράμος θεωρείται ο σημαντικότερος συγγραφέας του μοντερνισμού στη Βραζιλία. Με την περιγραφή συνηθειών και καταστάσεων στο Μασεγιό (Β.Α. Βραζιλία), την ιδιαίτερη πατρίδα του, προσδίδει πανανθρώπινη αξία σε γεγονότα που αφορούν τη μοίρα των απλών ανθρώπων, των γαιοκτημόνων και των μικροαστών. Στο έργο του υπογραμμίζει χαρακτηριστικά φολκλορικά στοιχεία της τοπικής κουλτούρας, αναδεικνύοντας κοινωνιολογικές και ψυχολογικές καταστάσεις της εκεί πραγματικότητας. Μοιάζει με τον Αλέξανδρο Παπαδιαμάντη, πόσο μάλλον που η γλώσσα του δεν είναι γεμάτη με φολκλορικές αναφορές, αλλά παρουσιάζει τα υπαρξιακά διλήμματα και τις ανησυχίες απλών ανθρώπων. Είχε διαβάσει και θαύμαζε τους Μπαλζάκ, Φλωμπέρ και Ντοστογιέφσκι. Ορισμένοι μελετητές του έργου του σημειώνουν ότι το "Άγονες ζωές" θυμίζει πάρα πολύ το "Αναμνήσεις από το σπίτι των πεθαμένων" του Ντοστογιέφσκι. Κέρδισε σημαντικά λογοτεχνικά βραβεία.

Jacinta Passos 1914 - 1973

Canção do amor livre

Se me quiseres amar

não despe somente a roupa.

Eu digo: também a crosta

feita de escamas de pedra

e limo dentro de ti,

pelo sangue recebida

tecida

de medo e ganância má.

Ar de pântano diário

nos pulmões.

Raiz de gestos legais

e limbo do homem só

numa ilha.

Eu digo: também a crosta

essa que a classe gerou

vil, tirânica, escamenta.

Se me quiseres amar.

Agora teu corpo é fruto.

Peixe e pássaro, cabelos

de fogo e cobre. Madeira

e água deslizante, fuga

ai rija

cintura de potro bravo.

Teu corpo.

Relâmpago depois repouso

sem memória, noturno.

.

O poema, vigoroso, é de Jacinta Passos, escritora baiana de mão cheia cuja trajetória marcada também pela militância política está sendo resgatada agora, com a publicação da obra “Jacinta Passos, C0ração Militante”, pelas editoras Edufba e Corrupio.

Escritora nascida em Cruz das Almas, Bahia, em 1914, Jacinta Passos foi autora de quatro livros de poemas — Momentos de poesia (1941), Canção da partida (1945), Poemas políticos (1951) e A Coluna (1958) —, elogiados por críticos do porte de Antonio Candido, Mário de Andrade, Aníbal Machado e Roger Bastide, entre outros. Seu livro mais importante, Canção da partida, foi ilustrado pelo artista Lasar Segall.

Jacinta tornou-se uma das mais ativas jornalistas da Bahia na década de 40, escrevendo sobre os assuntos que mais a interessavam, pelos quais lutava: política, transformações sociais e posição da mulher na sociedade. Colaborou também com jornais e revistas do Rio de Janeiro e de São Paulo. Militante do Partido Comunista Brasileiro de 1945 até a morte, em 1973, dedicou grande parte da vida ao trabalho penoso, clandestino e cotidiano de luta por um Brasil menos injusto.

Jacinta Passos foi casada com o escritor e jornalista James Amado, com quem teve uma filha, Janaína. A partir de 1951, sofreu crises nervosas periódicas, com delírios persecutórios, tendo recebido o diagnóstico de esquizofrenia paranóide, doença considerada progressiva e incurável. Apesar de internada em diversos sanatórios, jamais deixou de escrever, tanto poesia quanto prosa. Sua obra poética, fundada nas tradições populares da Bahia, contém fortes componentes líricos e apelo ao público contemporâneo, mas permanece pouco conhecida, pois seus livros, publicados por editoras de pequeno porte, tiveram tiragens muito reduzidas, sendo que apenas um deles, Canção da partida, foi reeditado, isso em 1990.

Paul Bowles , Patty Smith

I do not want the terrible limitations of those who live only on what is likely to make sense. I do not: want is an invented truth . Clarice Lispector 1920 - 1977 Água viva, 1973

Blaise Cedrars Brasil

En 1924, Blaise Cendrars s’embarque sur le Formose pour le Brésil à l’invitation de son ami écrivain Paulo Prado. De son arrivée sur les côtes, à l’âge de trente-sept, le poète n’oubliera rien. Ni les exclamations excessivement admiratives et bruyantes des autres passagers, ni les crépitements des dizaines de flashs, ni les propos idiots et attendus de ses comparses ("c’est un paradis terrestre!"), ni, est-il forcé de l’admettre, sa propre fascination… En 1952, il publie Le Brésil, des hommes sont venus, un recueil d’une centaine de pages comprenant deux courts chapitres à la confluence du récit de voyage, de l’essai et du poème en prose ainsi qu’une série de photographies de Jean Manzon qu’il commente de sa plume. Blaise Cendrars s’élance dans une promenade sinueuse où s’entrelassent contradictions et digressions dans l’espoir de saisir l’essence d’un pays complexe et mythifié depuis des siècles. Cet ouvrage, dont le désordre est précisément l’une des saveurs, aborde ainsi une pluralité de thèmes parmi lesquelles le carnaval de Rio, les danses et les chants indigènes, l’histoire des migrations, l’anthropophagie, la musique, l’eugénisme, l’Amazonie… Blaise Cendrars s’intéresse tout particulièrement aux premiers siècles de la colonisation. Il consacre plusieurs pages à la vie de Caramuru, un homme blanc qui était inexplicablement  présent sur les terres brésiliennes, à Reconcavo, à l’arrivée de la première flotte portugaise en 1501. Blaise Cendrars mène son enquête. Avec humour, le poète explique qu’au fil du temps il avait fini par devenir l’un de ses ennemis personnels car chacune des recherches qu’il menait à son sujet conduisait invariablement à des données contradictoires et impossibles à interpréter. Il parviendra tout de même à recueillir quelques informations éparses : Caramuru, dont on ignore le nom chrétien, signifie "tombé dans le trou " en tupi. Il serait sorti de la jungle pour venir à la rencontre des colons avec à sa suite soixante-quinze filles et soixante-quinze garçons, ses propres enfants issus d’unions avec des indiennes. Les Portugais, stupéfaits, l’ont interrogé durant des heures mais n’ont jamais obtenu la moindre réponse. On ne sut jamais quelle était sa nationalité ni la raison pour laquelle il se trouvait là. Beaucoup supposent qu’il s’agissait d’un naufragé. Pour Blaise Cendrars, Caramuru incarne le fait que les mythes sont constitutifs de l’identité du pays,  légende et réalité ne cessant jamais véritablement de s’imbriquer. 
Les photographies de Jean Manzon illustrent la diversité ethnique, culturelle et territoriale du Brésil. On peut ainsi découvrir pêle-mêle des clichés de la plage, d’un stade de foot ( Blaise Cendrars insiste beaucoup sur la ferveur footballistique nationale), du carnaval de Rio, d’indiens travaillant dans des plantations de caoutchouc, de troupeaux de bœufs, de chercheurs de diamants… Blaise Cendrars commente les photographies au gré de ses inspirations. Il revient une fois de plus sur cette idée reçue selon laquelle le Brésil est un "paradis terrestre", notamment à partir d’une série de cliché sur l’Amazonie. Pour le poète,  "L’enfer vert" serait un terme plus approprié. Toute entreprise humaine y est vouée à l’échec comme l’illustre l’éboulement des digues ou le craquement des trottoirs en mosaïque à Manaus. La jungle y apparaît comme étant bien plus puissante que l’hybris de l’homme à vouloir la dompter. Le poète évoque également le commerce du caoutchouc, mis à mal à partir de 1920 par la concurrence des plantations asiatiques, et les conditions épouvantables dans lesquelles vivaient les seringueiros (les chercheurs de caoutchouc). L’enfer vert l’est également en raison de la "solitude inhumaine" qu’elle induit. Le poète cherche l’homme, ne l’y trouve pas et s’en effraie à plusieurs reprises : "C’est trop grandiose. On cherche l’homme. Il n’y en a pas et cela fiche le cafard". Le sombre tableau de Blaise Cendrars est parfois parsemé de touches plus claires et plus lumineuses qui rappellent sa passion et sa fascination pour le pays. Il évoque ainsi les lumières de Rio de Janeiro (qu’il compare à Sydney et Paris) et ses "perles lumineuses" qui serpentent à travers la ville dès la nuit tombée. Il parle également de la richesse de l’histoire brésilienne, de son architecture, des métissages, de la flore extraordinaire, de la ferveur ambiante (religieuse, footballistique, artistique), des métissages, de la sensualité et de la déshinibition des femmes, des teintes de couleurs qui lui étaient inconnues et qu’il découvre avec ravissement.Le Brésil. Des hommes sont venus ne s’espère ni rigoureux, ni scientifique, ni distancié et ne l’est guère mais il déborde de curiosité, de mystère, de contradictions, d’enthousiasme, et de poésie…

Après avoir été longtemps introuvable, il est disponible depuis 2010 dans la collection Folio de Gallimard accompagné des photographies de Jean Manzon commentées par Blaise Cendrars.


"Sur les 8 500 000 kilomètres carrés que comporte la superficie du Brésil, 4 500 000 kilomètres carrés, soit plus de la moitié du territoire national, composent, à proprement parler, le bassin amazonien, qui n’est qu’une immense forêt impénétrable. À peine deux millions d’habitants, c’est-à-dire moins d’un vingtième de la population totale du Brésil, vivent dispersés dans ces solitudes aquatiques et sylvestres de la grande forêt équatoriale, où l’impétuosité des eaux détruit tout sur son passage en temps de crue et où la débordante Amazone, aux sources inépuisables, lutte avec la puissance envahissante et sans cesse renaissante de la végétation qui prend racine sur ses racines en forme de digue, qu’elle veut fixer et que lui ronge et dont il détache des pans, grands de plusieurs hectares, qu’il charrie lentement vers la mer, îles flottantes, avec des milliers, avec des dizaines de milliers d’arbres qui se tiennent debout, et qui ne s’affaissent, et qui ne s’écroulent et qui ne se versent, les racines en l’air, que dans la houle de l’Océan, souvent fort loin au large.L’Amazonie est réellement la dernière page de la Genèse qu’il reste à écrire », a dit Euclide da  Cunha, le génial écrivain de la sertao et le plus grand connaisseur de sa terre et de ses gens, le Brésil, son unique passion. Regardez  bien cette photographie du Labyrinthe. En effet, c’est un monde en formation que l’on découvre du haut des airs. Où s’arrête l’eau, où finit la forêt (dont vous avez une vue plus rapprochée donc plus intense) et que prépare ce ciel à l’horizon, chargé de nuées de chaleur ? Seul l’emploi de l’avion a permis de capter pour le climat de cette vue pathétique ». 

Écrire est une vue de l'esprit. C'est un travail ingrat qui mène à la solitude........Blaise Cedrars Paris, 1955

c'est le travail de la pensée des gens de ne pas être sur le côté de bourreaux

Μουντιἀλ Βραζιλίας, Ελλάδα - Κολομβία Belo Horizonte

Ο Ιταλός τεχνικός της Ιαπωνίας Alberto Zaccheroni όσο αναφορά το παγκόσμιο κύπελλο ποδοσφαίρου 2014  που θα διεξαχθεί στη Βραζιλία  και συγκεκριμενα για την αναμέτρηση της Εθνικής μας κόντρα στην Κολομβία που θα λάβει χώρα στις 14/06 στο Belo Horizonte την πόλη με την παρἀδοση στην cachaça , δήλωσε οτι το φαβορί είναι η Κολομβία , ξεχνώντας βέβαια οτι όλη η Βραζιλία είναι υπέρ της Ελλάδας , οι Βραζιλιάνοι λατρεύουν την Ελλάδα.

Life is so beautiful that even the idea of death must be born before it can be realized. Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis 1839 - 1908

“The master is not the one who teaches; it's the one who suddenly learns.” ― João Guimarães Rosa, O Grande Sertao: Veredas

Simone de Beauvoir, Oscar Niemeyer, Jean-Paul Sartre, Jorge Amado and his brother James. Brasilia, Brazil, 1960.

Simone de Beauvoir , Jorge Amado , Oscar Niemeyer , Jean-Paul Sartre

The world began without man, and it will end without him. Claude Levi-Straus 1908 - 2009

O pintor Paul Gauguin amou a luz na Baía de Guanabara

O compositor Cole Porter adorou as luzes na noite dela

A Baía de Guanabara

O antropólogo Claude Levy-strauss detestou a Baía de Guanabara:

Pareceu-lhe uma boca banguela.

E eu menos a conhecera mais a amara?

Sou cego de tanto vê-la, te tanto tê-la estrela

O que é uma coisa bela?

O amor é cego

Ray Charles é cego

Stevie Wonder é cego

E o albino Hermeto não enxerga mesmo muito bem

Uma baleia, uma telenovela, um alaúde, um trem?

Uma arara?

Mas era ao mesmo tempo bela e banguela a Guanabara

Em que se passara passa passará o raro pesadelo

Que aqui começo a construir sempre buscando o belo e o amaro

Eu não sonhei que a praia de Botafogo era uma esteira rolante deareia brancae de óleo diesel

Sob meus tênis

E o Pão de Açucar menos óbvio possível

À minha frente

Um Pão de Açucar com umas arestas insuspeitadas

À áspera luz laranja contra a quase não luz quase não púrpura

Do branco das areias e das espumas

Que era tudo quanto havia então de aurora

Estão às minhas costas um velho com cabelos nas narinas

E uma menina ainda adolescente e muito linda

Não olho pra trás mas sei de tudo

Cego às avessas, como nos sonhos, vejo o que desejo

Mas eu não desejo ver o terno negro do velho

Nem os dentes quase não púrpura da menina

(pense Seurat e pense impressionista

Essa coisa de luz nos brancos dentes e onda

Mas não pense surrealista que é outra onda)

E ouço as vozes

Os dois me dizem

Num duplo som

Como que sampleados num sinclavier:

"É chegada a hora da reeducação de alguém

Do Pai do Filho do espirito Santo amém

O certo é louco tomar eletrochoque

O certo é saber que o certo é certo

O macho adulto branco sempre no comando

E o resto ao resto, o sexo é o corte, o sexo

Reconhecer o valor necessário do ato hipócrita

Riscar os índios, nada esperar dos pretos"

E eu, menos estrangeiro no lugar que no momento

Sigo mais sozinho caminhando contra o vento

E entendo o centro do que estão dizendo

Aquele cara e aquela:

É um desmascaro

Singelo grito:

"O rei está nu"

Mas eu desperto porque tudo cala frente ao fato de que o rei é mais bonito nú

E eu vou e amo o azul, o púrpura e o amarelo

E entre o meu ir e o do sol, um aro, um elo.

("Some may like a soft brazilian sbut i've given up all attempts at perfection")

William S. Burroughs (b. 1914 - d. 1997)

La Vie de Boheme – The Original Starving Artists

Back in the mid-19th century, there was a guy named Henri Murger – and artists everywhere should know this guy. Murger lived among the Bohemians, a group of French people in Paris who lived poor, obscure lives – until Murger wrote a book about them.
 Scenes de La Vie de Boheme made the Bohemians famous. They went from being destitute, undereducated artisans to being romantic figures of suffering and pathos almost overnight. Murger used language to turn the Bohemians into romantic paragons of virtue, and it became fashionable for wealthy Parisians to dress like the Bohemians, talk like the Bohemians, and even “adopt” a Bohemian as their project.
 Artists Become Trendsetters
 In The Warhol Economy, Elizabeth Currid explains how artists changed parts of New York City from the slum-infested tenements of movies like Newsies to the happening couture districts of today’s SoHo or Greenwich Village. When the artists went in, these were the places where they could afford to live and work. After they cleaned the places up, the wealthy elite followed, purchasing the property from under the artists who had been squatting there and raising the property values to the point where artists who didn’t have established careers couldn’t live there.
 Its a well established fact that artists frequently live at the edge of culture, fashion, and education. Artists are thinkers and innovators in many, many ways. The Bohemian artists of Murger’s day who were lucky enough to gain a patron had tremendous influence on society. Murger’s work generated a stage play, as well as an opera, La Boheme, based on his novel. Subsequently there has been a Jazz album, several films, a Broadway musical (Rent), and another musical film (Moulin Rouge).
 Obviously La Boheme is a great story. The opera, as well as the musical Rent, is popular because it romanticizes the Bohemian life. The idea of living a care-free life is appealing. Here’s the thing – Murger himself said that the Bohemian lifestyle represented a stage in an artist’s life, and from there the artist must move either to the Academy (school & a professional career) or to the hospital and then, if they still refuse to move on, to death.
 The non-artists who emulate that lifestyle recognize it after a while and they move on. They become doctors, lawyers, or some other ‘respectable’ profession. Artists are tied to this lifestyle for some reason – and the ones that are able to rise above the limitations of Bohemia are the ones who do well.

Your Career: Life or Death
 There’s a lot of talk about whether it’s important to work on art that sells or work on art that is artistically fulfilling. But here’s the thing: your art career is how you support yourself, or you at least want it to be, yes?
 It’s not just about the money. Like Daniel Sroka says says in his article, finding the balance between pursuing passions and pursuing money is really important.
 You need to pursue your art business with the same vigor and passion that you paint, sculpt, draw or sing. Pushing off your business to pursue something more ‘fulfilling’ can lead you down the path of the Bohemians – a path of life that may seem like fun and frivolity at first, but which ultimately leads to poverty, sickness, and death.
 But I Don’t Know How! (foot stomp)
 This really isn’t an excuse. When I did a guest post on IWillTeachYouToBeRich.com, there were several artists who opined in the comments section that I was putting artists down, that they just hadn’t been taught how to be in business in art school.
 The truth is that there are endless resources on becoming a business savvy artist. There’s Alyson, Tara, Barney, Clint, Nicolena, Ann, and a whole bunch more people (like me) who are more than willing and able to teach artists how to be in the business of art.
 Don’t let not knowing get in the way. It’s too easy to look at your bank account and wistfully sigh, “But, at least I’m an artist.” I’ve done it. We’ve probably all done it at some point. We can’t let that happen, and we have to stop letting that happen to our fellow artists.
 Henri Murger was a brilliant writer, but he did us all a disservice when he romanticized the Starving Artist lifestyle and helped it grow to mythological proportions. We did ourselves a disservice when we allowed the rest of humanity to start treating us like we deserved to be poor just because we’re artists.
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La vie de Boheme