2-THE AMAZING WORLD AND WORK OF FEMALE PHOTOGRAPHER

Sylvia Plachy

Sylvia Plachy, a Hungarian-born photographer,

immigrated to the United States with her parents in 1958,

started photographing in 1964 and over the next forty years

by recording the visual character of the city along with

its diverse occupants managed the not insignificant

accomplishment of becoming essential to

the New York photography scene.
Sylvia Plachy's work is in the permanent collections of MOMA,

the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art,

the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Bibliotheque Nationale. She has been awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship and a CAPS Grant

Sylvia Plachy by the Berlin Wall photo by James Ridgeway

http://www.womeninphotography.org/Events-Exhibits/DistinguishedPhotog/SylviaPlachy_2004/Plachy.html

THE SONG OF THE CASTAWAYS

Born in Montbéliard, 11 November 1952,

Jean-Michel Maulpoix has published poetry,

including A History of blue, the writer imagined,

Public Domain, and not on snow,published

in the Mercure de France. He also published critical studies on Henri Michaux, Jacques Réda and René Char,

as well as testing general poetic

(including poetry nevertheless poetry as lovepoetry and Du). Her writing, which constantly interact prose and poetry,

claiming volontiers a "critical lyricism.

Jean-Michel Maulpoix directs the quarterly journal of literature

and criticism New Series (ed. Field valley Seyssel 01420)

Alumnus of the École normale supérieure de Saint-Cloud,

modern literature, and author of a doctoral thesis on state

"notion of lyricism, he teaches modern poetry at the University

of Paris X-Nanterre where He also hosts a team of research

entitled "MonitoringoFcontemporary poetry -

------- photo Tony Elieh

"The song of the castaways

Poem extracted from « Dans l'interstice » (« Through the chinks… »

by Jean-Michel MAULPOIX, & Fata Morgana, publ., 1991

Translated by Catherine Wieder

We are the wrecked castaways of language

To and fro do we wander from one country to another, clinging on to the floated woods of our

phrases

Such are the remains of an old vessel crashed so long ago

But desire still plots whilst we ship adrift

And sculpt in those planks statuettes of sirens with blue hair

And go on singing with those very same lungs

Let us repeat the sea

Do not bring any stupid trial to the blue

The sea, clinging on to the sea

Shivers and slides on the sea

Its movements of a skirt,

its blows of the shoulders, its redundancies

And all this blue coming to us on the wide flats of the sea

We like the way the small craft passes and goes

Swaying from one wave to another, dancing its fluttering turmoil to meet the sea again
And its weird jingling sound

When music unfolds itself on the huge score of the sea

The sea mingles with the sea

Mixes its lakes and puddles

Its ideas of gulls and foams

Its dreams of seaweeds and cormorants

With its heavy blue chrysanthemums from the open sea

With clumps of forget-me-nots on the white walls of the islands

With the bruises of the horizon

With switched off light-houses

With the dreams of the unfathomable sky

The sea is a fallen blue sky

Long ago did the sky indeed lose its keys in the sea

Under which suns should we from now on lose ourselves ?

On which shoulder will we rest the fever of our wet head ?

Our dreams are birds' feet on the sand

Fragments of nails cut a few inches away from the sea

We burn on the beach huge heaps of corpses

Since such are the words with their bones and smokes

Heaps of thighbones and metacarpusses

A pyre of sweet-smelling blades of grass and crackling powders

A dry meadow would be kindled next to the sea
High flames headlong jumping among the brooms

And all of a sudden a woman's chest erected in the spluttering

Offered to that mad love

Throwing towards heaven the long moan

Of he who scorched his heart

Alone, does he walk towards her, on the narrow granite jetty

Embarking his perishable body towards nothing

She remains the huge lying shape, running towards him

Throwing towards him her flurries and petticoats

Lo ! here does he stand,

He the small man, standing up straight on the dyke with his pencil

Tightly pressed against her, but apart

Both so close and yet losing sight of each other

Pressing on to each other, their hearts badly anchored

The blue bathes a little that small body of a man

The blue catches him in its nets

A speck of flesh or chip of bashful love

A tuft of light between his palms

Stained with deep ink

Lips tightly closed by the wave

Muted, having nothing to reply to the open blue

Voiceless in the water's maze

Why can't we put out our roots in the sea

As drowned men and weeds do ?

We would easily carry on our shoulders

The never fading blue sky

Which however dreams of colours and hues

And the lukewarm wool of the foams

And the poisonous fruits of the open sea

In which no human lip did ever bite

Thus would we return to the infinite garden

We won't fill the sea with our tears

We'd rather support with our songs the efforts of the storms

Throwing their cries and leaches on to our heads

And when our watery eyes no longer see anything

We'll know better still what the sea is

The scales covering our hearts will have fallen

And our nacreous skin will at last be so white

That we would no longer fear the mad love of the sirens

Cheers to the skies of the open sea

So will we drink from chalices and ciboriums

Gluttunously will we drink the sea

No water will ever quench our thirst

We are thirsty of the salt

Our lips are greedy

In the blue sea, it's always Sunday

When gold fishes kneel

Since the days when the floodtide started carrying us

We started a liking for eternity

Water has gotten into our head

And crystal droplets in our blood

We hardly remember our fellow creatures

Whose gardens fade

And whose children grow

Our heart is so blue.

MYSTERY...

JIMENEZ DEREDIA

GARCIA LORCA

John Singer Sargent (January 12, 1856 – April 14, 1925) . The passion . . . El Jaleo 1882 Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston Oil on canvas 237 x 352 cm (93 3/8 x 138 1/2 in.)


Federic Garcia Lorca born in Fuente Vaqueros, Granada,Spain June 5, 1898 he died near Granada, August 1936 . Murdered by the Nationalist at the start of the Spanish Civil War.Poet and dramatist. was a talented artist and a member of the 'Generation of 1927', a group of writers who advocated avant-gardism in literature. He read law at the University of Granada.García Lorca read law at the University of Granada.He studied music collaborating in the 1920s with Manuel de Falla, he plays piano and guitar. In Madrid he entered the Residence de Estudiantes, a modern college and the intellectual center of the town. Friend of Juan Ramón Jiménez and Pablo Neruda. With Salvador Dali and Louis Bunuel he did different productions. When the two made their notorious Un Chien Andalou (1928), García Lorca was offended: he thought that the film was about him. García Lorca became known even 'Libro De Poemas' (1921), a collection of fablelike poems. In 1923 García Lorca earned a degree in law, but the turning point in his literary career was folk music festival Fiesta de Cante Jondo in 1922, where he found inspiration for his work from the traditions of folk and gypsy music. In 1927 García Lorca gained fame with his romantic historical play arina Pineda where the scenery was constructed by Salavador Dali and the distinguished actress Margarita Xirgu played the heroine. By 1928, with the publication of RIMER ROMANCERO GITANO he was the best-known of all Spanish poets, and leading member of the 'Generation of 27', which included Luis Cernuda, Jorge Guillen, Pedro Salinas, Rafael Alberti and others. In 1929-30 García Lorca lived in the city of New York, on the campus of Columbia University. suffered a deep culture shock. His suicidal mood was recorded in posthumously published POETA EN NUEVA YORK(1940, Poet in New York), in which he praised Walt Whitman. , He escapes to Havana to experience the harmony of a more primitive life. After visitCuba García Lorca was back in Spain by 1931, and continued with theatre productions. He became the head the traveling theatrical company, La Barraca, which brought classical plays and other dramas to the provinces. After the death of his friend, a bullfighter, García Lorca wrote ament for the Death of a Bullfighter(1935), which has been regarded by most critics as his greatest poem. . The figure of one man facing death in the bullring, exemplified by his friend Ignacio Sánchez Mejías, expressed the author's tragic sense of death. Mejías himself had written a play and he was well-known in the literary circles. Lorca's The Spanish Civil War began in 1936 and García Lorca was seen by the right-wing forces as an enemy. The author hid from the soldiers but he was soon found, dragged from a friend's house, and shot in Granada on August 19/20 of 1936 without trial by the Nationalists. The circumstances of his death are still shrouded in mystery.


















F.G.L.

Gacela of Unforseen Love

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a humming bird of love between your teeth.



A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep
in the plaza with moon of your forehead,
while through four nights I embraced
your waist, enemy of the snow.



Between plaster and jasmins, your glance
was a pale branch of seeds.
I sought in my heart to give you
the ivory letters that say "siempre",


"siempre", "siempre" : garden of my agony,
your body elusive always,
that blood of your veins in my mouth,
your mouth already lightless for my death.

ARVO METS

Arvo Mets (1937 – 1997)

Born in Estonia, and educated at St. Petersburg Universityand at Literary Institute in Moscow. lived most of his life in Moscow where he edited several literary magazines, including Novy Mir New World. Started writing poetryin the early 1960s,and also translated Estonian poetry to Russian. Three criticallyacclaimed collections of hispoetry miniatures were published in Moscow and Tallinn.His Selected Poems appeared in Moscow in 1992.

Haikus

Blustery wind
we‘re caught in the golden blizzard
of falling leaves

A tiny feather
descending –
birdless sky

The train screams
and slows down –
three silver firs on the pane

RABÉARIVELO

A Surrealist influence in

Cactus,( lines 13-20)

Here
,when the flanks of the city were made as green
as moonbeams glancing through the forests,
when still they cooled the hillsides of Iarive
crouched like bulls after food,
upon these rocks, too steep for goats,
they drew apart to guard their springs.
Lepers in finery of flowers.

Romantcism (France, 19th Cent.) influenc

Pomegranate, (lines 9-13) perhapS Keats??????

Its taste will be sweeter,
because it was pregnant with desire
And with fearful love and scented blossoms -
Pregnant by the love sun.


Three day breaks, Part III,( lines 1-10 (of III parts))

All the stars are melted together
in the crucible of time,
then cooled in the sea
and turned into a many-faceted stone-block.
A dying lapidist, the Night, setting to work with all her heart
and all her grief to see her millscrumbling, crumbling,
like ashes in the wind,
cuts with what living care the prism.


A Reflection on Merina (Ethnic Group) Culture


Two Old Merina Songs, excerpt from Part II (of II parts)

... my cousin, I have scarcely any lovers for my lovers
areno more than seven; the first is the lover that cuts my
nails; the second is the lover who takes the place of the one
withus in the house, when I am away from home; the third
takes her place in an emergency; the fourth is the lover
who
follows me with her eyes when I go away; the fifth is the
lover who comes to meet me when I return; the sixth is
the lover sustains my life like rice; the seventh is the
lover who does not mix with the crowd andeven when she
happens to be amongst them always knows how to
make
herself distinguished.

And you witness of his daily suffering
and of his endless task;
you atch his thunder-riddled
agony until the battlements of the East re-echo
the conches of the sea -
but you pity him no more
and do not even
remember that his sufferings begin
again
each time the sun capsizes.


(from Traduit de la nuit, 1935 )

JEAN-JOSEPH RABÉARIVELO


















Passionate and restless, drifted from on job to another, and suffered from drug addiction and depression. Rabearivelo took his own life at the age of 36; on June 22, 1937 by poisoning himself . Various reasons have been given for his suicide, including the colonial administration's decision to send a group of basket-weavers instead of him to France to represent the colony. One of Africa's most important French-language poets, a prominent figure in the literary revival known as the Mitady ny Very which swept Madagascar in the 1930s. Rabearivelo wrote both in Malagasy and in his own unique version of imperfect French.
Born in Antananarivo (Tananarive), capital of Madagascar. His mother, who married a tailor, was an aristocrat, related to the royalty of the largest Malagasy ethnic group, the Merina people. In 1895 Malagasy armed forces had been defeated by the French, and the new administration led to the pauperization of most of the Merina royalty. .
Rabearivelo was educated by his uncle, ( sent to the Ecole des Freres des Ecoles Chretiennes - Andohalo, and after to the Collrge Saint-Michel in Amparibe. Left schooling at the thirteen continued to read widely the classics western. He was secretary and interpreter of the head of the Canton of Ambatolampy, and then returned to Tananarive. Rabearivelo worked in odd jobs, but ended as a proof-reader at the printing press in Imerina until his death. Razafitrimo, and have five children .A terrible blow for him was the death of his youngest daughter blow for In Un conte de la nuit, a short story, he recounts the family tragedy.
Rabearivelo's mother encouraged him to write at the age of 20 he published his first poems . In 1923 the international revue Anthropos accepted an article of him on the poetry of Madagascar. He contribute to journals in his own country, in the neighboring Mauritius, and in Europe. Rabearivelo's early poems were influenced by French Symbolist poets. In 1930s he lauched his own journal, Capricorne, in 1931 he was accepted into the Academie Malgachethe .Rab*arivelo never got a higher-paying job from the administration which he always hoped.
. In the 1910s several nationally prominent writers had been imprisoned, Malagasy- language writing was restricted, but memories of independence were still fresh under the colonial rule. In his early collections Rabearivelo's recurring theme was exile, the journey away from the native land, referring to the loss of independence. When all text written in French were considered to belong to French literature, Rabearivelo supported bilingual works and proposed that 'Malagasy literature' would recognize French-language texts composed by the Malagasy.
Like Baudelaire Rabearivelo was too much of an aesthetician to join the cadres of militant poets. He created his own world,-strange and mythical-,which was shadowed by visions of suffering and death, teeth marks of colonized civilization. Cosmos was for Rabearivelo full of sad beauty, wandering tribes, and bodies in perpetual mutation. His plays, Imaitsoanala, Fille d'oiseau (1935) and Aux portes de la ville (1936), focused on rituals and folklore and carefully avoided any reference to politically inflammable issues. On the other hand, none of his critical works were published in his lifetime.

I know a child, a prince in God's kingdom
Who would continue the tale:

'Fate too pity on the lepers
And told them to plant their flowers
And guard their springs afar from man's cruelty.'

(from Presque-songes, 1934)

TANEDA AND HÖSAI

Taneda Santöka Free style haiku, Santōka is often ranked along side Ozaki Hösai, a fellow student of Seisensui. They both suffered from the ill effects of their drinking habits and were similar in their reliance on Seisensui and other patrons of the arts for aid and support. The literary tone of their poems, however, differs .
Haiku excerpts from Hiroaki Sato’s translation of Santōka’s Grass and Tree Cairn

I go in still blue mountains
Wakeitte mo wakeitte mo aoi yama

Fluttering drunk leaves
horohoro yöte ki no ha chiru


Westerners like to conquer mountains;

Orientals like to contemplate them.


As for me, I like to taste the mountains.





Taneda Santooka 種田山頭火(1882-1940)a haiku nonconformist who cast aside all the rules including the 5-7-5 syllable structure, is also associated with Matsuyama. Santoka, an ordained Zen priest, after spending most of his life wandering all over the country as a begging monk, chose to settle in Matsuyama only to die 10 months later. The humble cottage where he dwelt -- Isso-an (A Blade of Grass Hermitage) is preserved north of Ehime University.His books and documents are also preserved in Shiki Memorial Museum.



Hōsai (尾崎 放哉) Ozaki Hoosai, Ozaki Hosai 20 January 1885 - 7 April 1926An alcoholic, Ozaki witnessed the birth of the modern free verse haiku movement. His verses are permeated with loneliness, most likely a result of the isolation, poverty and poor health of his final years.


I go in still blue mountains


Wakeitte mo wakeitte mo aoi yama




Fluttering drunk leaves



Horohoro yōte ki no ha chiru Haiku excerpts from Burton Watson’s translation For All My Walking


there
where the fire was
something blooming
yake-ato nani yara saite iru

feel of the needle
when at last
you get the thread through it
yatto ito ga tōtta hari no kanshoku




snow stopped
in the voices of children
the sun shines—