What injures the hive injures the bee, says Marcus Aurelius. I say not wanting to hurt another, this late, should maybe more than count, still, as a form of love. Be wild. Bewilder. Not that they hadn’t, of course, known unkindnesses, and been themselves unkind. When the willow’s leaves, back again, unfold all along their branches, the branches routinely in turn brushing then lifting
away from the pond’s face, it’s too late. Last night I doubted as I’ve not doubted myself in years: knowing a thing seemed worthless next to knowing the difference between many things, the fox from the hounds, persuasion from the trust required to fall asleep beside a stranger; who I am, and how I treated you, and how you feel. So that it almost seemed they’d either forgotten or agreed without
saying so to pretend they had. Did you know there’s an actual plant called honesty, for its seedpods, how you can see straight through? Though they’d been told the entire grove would die eventually, they refused to believe it. The face in sleep, like a wish wasted. To the wings at first a slight unsteadiness; then barely any. What if forgetting’s not like that—instead, stampeding, panicked, just a ghost choir: of legends,
and rumors, of the myths forged from memory—what’s true, and isn’t— that we make of ourselves and, even worse, of others. Not the all-but- muscular ache, the inner sweep of woundedness; no. Not tonight. Say the part again about the bluer flower, black at the edges. I’ve always loved that part. Skull of an ox, from which a smattering of stars keeps rising. How they decided never to use surrender as a word again.
A nation is a community of individuals united by a collective memory of the past, but the European Union is a community built on collective amnesia. Countries joining the Union over the past two decades have traded their difficult memories of past rivalries, wars and genocides for peace and prosperity, but when good times end the past returns.
Made during travels through ten countries during the height of the European debt crisis, The Memory of History explores the use and abuse of the past in the context of recession. At the same time, it reflects on historicist conceptions of time as linear and of history as narrative, ideas which underpin the western belief in continuous progress which contributed to the crisis.
Rejecting a fixed narrative structure, The Memory of History consists of a box of fifty-six prints and an experimental essay, The History of Memory, composed of twelve short texts chapters on history, memory and time. Images and text are mixed freely, resulting in a unique viewing experience every time the box is opened as new connections form, emulating the way the past reconstitutes itself differently each time we attempt to return to it.
They’ll seem to pose for you, though they’re always posed in their own ulterior ways in a steadily calm abstraction of available light. They belong to what they’re lying on, looking like nothing on earth among other things, and they arrange themselves with what has been rearranged repeatedly by the wind and the time-stopped intervals among seasons. How they appear when they reappear on paper means nothing to them. They look always their best or their least and don’t want to be thought of at all ahead of time or remembered after or recognized at once as being more powerful, dangerous, or desirable than they already are in the shade or the half shade out from under the sun where they’ve learned to pay the closest kind of attention to lying still, regardless of sudden flashes of light.
Após o grande êxito das interpretações ao vivo das bandas sonoras da trilogia O Senhor dos Anéis, a Orquestra Gulbenkian irá desta vez tocar ao vivo a música do filme Star Wars: Uma Nova Esperança, o primeiro da saga a ser realizado por George Lucas. “Na minha cabeça, e talvez também na do George Lucas, quando estava a compor pensava num filme para crianças”, disse o compositor John Williams numa entrevista à Gramophone.
Gustav Willeit - The mountains, depicted in their architecture of incredible variants and infinite chromatic shades, unveil another essential yet invisible element: silence – the kind of silence inviting the viewer to listen to it. This silence is not disturbed by the presence of the human figure, which is placed in these landscapes like an attempt to present a familiar and graspable element. Yet the effect is quite the contrary: the human figure is not reassuring but escapes reason by raising a feeling of senselessness and impotence.