none of the roads i knew led to him.
the doors wouldn't open,
they didn't seem to be closed, either.
one of the old masters said:
'To learn bamboo painting,
take a branch of bamboo
and let its shadow fall upon a white wall
on a moonlit night,
then the true shape of the bamboo will emerge.'
and if i took one of his gestures -
those gestures detached of whatever
they were supposed to hold,
for which i was unable to find a name -
and let its shadow fall upon the white skin
of my moonlit night,
would then, oh master Kuo Hsi,
the true shape of his absence emerge?
'To learn bamboo painting,
take a branch of bamboo
and let its shadow fall upon a white wall
on a moonlit night,
then the true shape of the bamboo will emerge.'
and if i took one of his gestures -
those gestures detached of whatever
they were supposed to hold,
for which i was unable to find a name -
and let its shadow fall upon the white skin
of my moonlit night,
would then, oh master Kuo Hsi,
the true shape of his absence emerge?
Gasping at the truth, beauty and sadness.
ReplyDeleteMy favourite floating bridge post ever!!! the poem, that bottom picture, I feel feel totally inadequate!!
ReplyDeletenicht an Türen denken, nicht an Schatten, frei sein... und das was sonst soviel Sehnsucht und soviel Leidenschaft entfachte kommt von alleine auf dich zu, Dich zu umarmen... Nun gehe ich ganz nachdenklich und bewusst und schaue mich auf der Brücke um, nach Dir, liebe Roxana, um Dich zu grüssen!
ReplyDeleteRenée
this is more than my words can express. it is more than pure beauty, and more than love.
ReplyDeleteDie durchwachte Nacht
ReplyDeleteDer Bambus wiegt sich im Winde, das Mondlicht fließt durchs Gestein. Es fliegt in der Milchstraße Schimmer einsam ein Wunsch hinein.
Ich denke des Wiedersehens, da ist es mit Schlafen vorbei. Und während ich singe vor Sehnsucht, ertönt schon der erste Hahnenschrei.
longing and loss, the shadow side of loving...
ReplyDeletebeautiful poem, beautifully illustrated
hmm, the rhythm of the light at work here...
ReplyDeletelove it.
I shall sit quietly, unobtrusively, in a corner, and watch the theatre of moonlight and shadow, master and apprentice, artist and art most sublime, shall watch attentively, as the revelations unfold and the theatre becomes animated with inspirations... as ghosts walk in the milky moonlight sharing vast secrets . . .
ReplyDeletethe last is, without a shadow of doubt like a still from an old black and white film. when will we see the body without a shadow?
ReplyDeleteai!ai! ce frumoasa e ultima
ReplyDeleteAside from the fact of the depth and sheer beauty of these photos, the other thing that strikes me is that instead of looking for a moment, or waiting for a moment, you boldly go forth and create your very own moment.
ReplyDeleteDearest: elfin gestures, a pale moon, the map of a soul...
ReplyDeleteNice... very delicate.
ReplyDeletebonjour Roxana, merci pour ta jolie note. Oui j'ai deux chansons de la vie- j'aime parler le français et l'anglais.Et toi tu as trois chansons je crois? Mon dernier blog était en anglais alors je voulais avoir l'expérience d'un blog en français cette fois.
ReplyDeleteRoxanna c'est magnifique le texte et tes photo. Je trouve ce travail une merveille.
Yes your photo of the gesture of the branch written on the white wall of moonlight and then your abstract photo of his gesture on your moonlit skin. Beautiful.
It reminds me of when I draw gestures of the model with only a few lines but the shadow expands to reveal a story and identity.
Oh and your photograph led me to think of Salvador Dali's-The Enigma of Desire-My Mother, My Mother- the gesture resembles your gesture.
Thankyou
Have a beautiful day of magic and light you magician of light you.
à la prochaine
'none of the roads i knew led to him.
ReplyDeletethe doors wouldn't open,
they didn't seem to be closed, either.'
mii de imbratisari pentru asta! suna asa de cunoscut... :)
http://www.3d-dali.com/Tour/enigma.htm
ReplyDeletealors c'est la Roxana-The ENigma of Desire-My Mother,My Mother, My Mother
the gesture reminded of yours but ofcourse I have been viewing Dali actually playing with some art stickers that I bought.
Ah la dernière...
ReplyDeleteBises
belle Roxana..
ReplyDeletela beauté sous sa plus suggestive forme ..la beauté de cette simplicité qui nous met a nu quelque part...
et cette troisième photo...sublime..ce corps ou les ombres s'accrochent et glissent comme une ultime caresse...
..il m'a fallut quelques instants pour le voir ..et j'ai aimé ce moment precis ou mes yeux ont discerné les courbes et ou le vrai a émergé de l'illusion..
tu tapisses nos rêves d'ombres de lune , c'est magique...
je t'embrasse..:o)
Salut Roxana,
ReplyDeleteUne très belle série BRAVO et tes paysages sont superbes, je ferais bien une ballade avec toi! :0)
les vidéos ça t'as plu? c'est génial!
Um autre??? Um portugais cette fois!?!
Vasco Araújo - O Percurso -
http://www.vascoaraujo.org/trab2009_percurso.html
je t'embrasse!!!
Ps: Paris, Londres, New York???
Légende basé de la spiritualité . Le bambou élément si intense ici. J'aime cette forme de noir et blanc que tu as imaginer de nous faire comprends.
ReplyDeleteTears. Tears, my Love...
ReplyDeleteThree years gone, and I find myself once more wrapped around the form of his absence, and in doing so, am somehow filled again?
No one touches him, in me. No one ever will.
(You must hear my heart beat, just as I have heard yours.)
… these pictures are the narrative of a gesture lifted from the darkness of our hearts into the light and shadow of time … there is no question of what the gesture holds … it holds everything and nothing, it holds the mystery that form is, that the brushstroke that creates form out of absence (or the stroke that fills the brush with its own absence) creates us also … and the simple and beautiful words that stand abashed before that mystery, cut through with longing …
ReplyDelete(i am lost in the tracery of shadow on her white skin)
… but no, let’s erase my words … they long for erasure anyway -- they have come into their shape, in order to be erased … let’s stand still before these images and whisper these words that seem more ancient than anything, and then let’s fall quiet and be here for as long as possible …
Toujours aussi énigmatique Roxana...
ReplyDeleteTous les chemins mènent vers toi, vers ta bouche, bien que les portes soient fermées... je les caresserais de mes yeux pour qu'elles s'ouvrent...
Et si je... alors, je t'écouterais...(:[
Bises sur l'épaule...
draga locuieste intr-o noua casa,buzele si le-a deschis pentru a o sarbatori,iar pielea ei primeste freamatul jocului de umbre pentru ca noi sa o ghicim la infinit;unde se ascunde,ne intrebam,incercand sa ii mangaiem urechea,acest centru al lumii ei?
ReplyDeleteRoxana, je reviens pour chercher un peu d'apaisement. Je suis toujours fascinée par la troisième photo, ces ombres qui caressent la peau, l'esprit de Man Ray mélangé aux films japonais des années 30.
ReplyDeleteBises
shadow and flesh mingle
ReplyDeletelike glass and ghosts
heaven's throat
exposed
to the insatiable mouth
of
light
Anyone who has experienced love and loss would feel this. But none other than you could recreate them in a blog post. And if love and loss never existed then you would be the goddess who created them.
ReplyDeletemerc, your words are so precious to me.
ReplyDeleteMarion, i'm happy :-)
liebste Renée, ich gruesse dich auch und laechle dir zu :-)
G, what matters is how they live in you.
Robert, dein wunderschoenes Gedicht nehme ich mit in die tiefe Nacht hinein...
Lynne, the shadow side is often more interesting that plain light, isn't it?
Dianne, thank you so much!
ReplyDeleteOwen, some say wisdom in life is to be able to sit quietly, unobtrusively, in a corner, and watch the theatre of moonlight and shadow of life...
still listening to your song :-)
anonymous, the body without a shadow would be less fascinating, i am sure of this :-)
Ana, ai ai :-)
Stickup Artist, you are right, in the case of this post i first wrote the poem and then went out to imagine the photos which could go with it... sometimes it is the other way round.
Prospero:
aqua mirifica, the moon dew of the Garden -
Thank you, Alina, for coming by...
amaraentus, thank you a lot for your warm words of enthusiasm and the connection to Dali, i am not sure i got the reason, some form similitude maybe? but as always, it is more interesting to find out how the others react to my pictures, their emotional responses and intellectual connections which open up new roads of thinking for myself as well :-)
je t'embrasse et te souhaite une nouvelle semaine pleine de joie et lumiere :-)
Simona, ma bucur sa aflu ca ti-au vorbit si tie, cuvintele mele :-)
tres chere K'line, mes sourires et bisoux, je t'embrasse de tout coeur (et tu me manques!)
ah Clo, tu decris la, beaucoup mieux que je n'aurais pu le faire, ma propre experience avec cette image, moi-aussi j'ai besoin de quelques instants pour 'reconnaitre' la forme du corps et c'est sans doute une raison pour laquelle j'aime cette photo...
je t'embrasse tendrement...
Marc., merci mille fois pour tes cadeaux :-) maintenant je voyage, je ne peux pas regarder le film, mais des mon retour je le ferais, jhe suis tres curieuse!
bisoux...
cher Allan, je me disais que tu allais etre sensible a l'image du bambou... je t'embrasse comme d'habitude...
S., dearest - i am there, with you. i know.
James, your words and my photos, always on the verge between light and shadow, presence and erasure - that erasure which is, strangely, expansion, both into light and into shadow - you know that so well, you, always...
ReplyDelete(thank you)
Jeff, toi tu parles d'enigmes, alors que tu es tout aussi mysterieux, ou bien plus encore :-)
bisoux et une bonne semaine, que le soleil violent du sud soit doux avec toi :-)
Cerasela, gaseste centrul doar cine il viseaza, il imagineaza mai plin, exact acolo unde nici macar el nu stie ca se gaseste :-)
te imbratisez, te imbratisez -
Sutton, the insatiable mouth
of
light - what a wonderful image, alive in me now -
i often wonder how my photos are alive in you, how they change there, into what...
oh Lydia, such high praise, i don't even know what to say, i am humbly grateful...
such graceful longing, in this poem, in the photos..
ReplyDelete