i remember you in the summer room
filled with sun and ripe cherries.
the dark purple of cherries around your nails, like blood.
i remember you dancing for me in the summer afternoon,
your dress pierced with seeds of light.
the fan moved like a bird in your hand.
you looked at me and something like a bird
moved within my heart as well.
but it was when you hid your face, oh
that darkness pierced me,
as it pierces your dress when you take it off,
as it pierces the air longing for your hand
to pick up the fan again.
..
Slain... again.
ReplyDeletee ceva în pozele astea care te aruncă peste stânci peste ţărmul minunat, vopsit în mirosurile primăverii.
ReplyDeletee şi greu să aduni un sac de sentimente şi să-l expui aşa crud şi plin de sevă.
cred că intenţia e foarte puternică, atrage ca un magnet - lumină.
poate totuşi încerci să exprimi mai frumosul, mai luminos. se poate să te schimbe un pic.
dacă nu are sens ce zic, atunci primeşte nişte felicitări sincere pentru viziune. aripi frumoase!
Both images and words are wonderfully provocative here. Most captivating for me was the second photo down. I am trying to think why. It is assertively and flirtatiously flamenco-esque. Maybe that's it. Anyway, a pleasure both sensual and aesthetic.
ReplyDeleteCan I pretend that I wrote this poem? Can I tell people that I wrote it? Can I steal it?
ReplyDeleteThe first pic is maddeningly beautiful, you know, crazily beautiful. You are dancing at the top of your form.
The words, the images, the set of the mouth...
ReplyDelete...the dark purple of cherries around your nails, like blood.
i remember you dancing for me in the summer afternoon...
loving these words.
In their own ways, these three most recent posts all step close to the center of the mystery of photography. The photographer’s subject is not stillness, though it might seem so --- but rather the moment of a turn, when a single shiver unites the ordinary chaos of mere events --- the moment when a hundred separate crows sweep, impossibly, together, across the sky, when the dancer and the dance and she who watches are not three, but one. It is not stillness, never, but the hidden quiet inside the movement....
ReplyDeleteAnd this fan dancer, she is the purest distillation of the erotic, so wise in knowing that the real dance is in the way concealment teases revelation, approaching and holding back, again. I want to say the purity of face and hands, these glimpses that must be remembered from dreams....
The poem is beautiful and full, like the dance itself, like the summer air. Its darkness pierces me with seeds of light, just as it “pierces the air longing for your hand / to pick up the fan again,” a wonderful ending that does not end, but begins, in longing.
this post is like you Roxana, extravagantly beautiful.
ReplyDelete..the waves of the dance, waves of eroticism and sensuality permeating your visual work created by the motion of the fan and the dress the delicate grace of the face the white pearled face offering the exposure of her wanton lips
ReplyDeletethe soft white feathered down of the music flowing through her motions from the birds as you described the fans
and then for me in my dream here today there is a strong tension,a slight tremor of a shock a splitting of the crescendo leading to an orgasmic high when the death comes from the concealed face,
I am taken adruptly from a world of eroticism to spirituality where the face is hidden in clouds of a unique personality that evades descriptive eroticism- the dance is no longer a suggestion of a naked body but the grace and beauty of the personality.
and the castaway dress becomes the lifelessness of the cherished person.
what an amazing presentation on the bridge chère magnifique splendide Roxana.
merci.
and chère Roxana, I just loved your metaphor of comparing my cascade of comments to a fall in canada
ReplyDeletebut actually that is not the case I am not a waterfall but a group of small islands in the gulf of st laurence= iles de la madeleine haha
but thankyou so much for that romantic the notion
and ah the snow is back you say- sending you a few more snow kisses...
Yes, I recognize this capturing and conveyance of motion as it is seldom mastered. I can hear and feel the soft flutter of the fan as it flutters gracefully through the air, see the twinkling of the sequins on the dress as the dancer moves in the light. The poem is heart-rending adding yet another level to the drama unfolding before my eyes.
ReplyDeleteFor me, the second photo is sublime. Sublimely subtle, sublimely beautiful, sublimely seductive, sublimely enticing, sublimely mysterious, sublimely sensuous, sublimely graphic, sublimely painterly, sublimely contrasted, sublimely poetic. It is the dancer, the fan, and the one entranced caught in a sublime moment in time.
ReplyDeleteSimply sublime.
oh and Roxana, I can't help but take pleasure in the thought of the poetry of your eyes when they capture the celestial light- the transfusion to evergreen reflections.
ReplyDeleteces photos sont d'une grâce exquise..un papillon de nuit qui danse dans la lumière..j'adore la première la deuxième et la dernière...mais toutes sont belles..
ReplyDeleteune chorégraphie sans faute...magnifique...
Chere Roxana,tu enchantes cette fin de journée...
pleins de bisoux tourbillonnant...
tendresses ...:o)
une belle gitane, merveilleux! le flou et la dynamique est fantastique!
ReplyDeletewho is this fiery but gentle woman?
ReplyDeleteDraga mea,din nou,siderata,in fata felului in care ai surprins fiinta cea mai intima si plina de farmec reverberant a prietenei noastre.Este acolo totul:frenezia emotiei ei,eleganta,pasiunea unui tango,eleganta si clinchetul bratarii ei,felul acela in care se uita ea uneori la lucruri,cu trasaturile atat de pure.Intreaga frumusete a Cristinei danseaza,aici,pentru oameni,si parca iti vine sa prinzi cu maini puternice incheieturile ei si pe ale tale,sa tii strans aceste doua rotiri carismatice.Ce sarbatoare...
ReplyDelete...the last photo, too...
ReplyDeletei love the second photo, so much being said and remaining unsaid, in the tilt of the chin, angle of the neck, the set of the lips... and in front, the fan like a bird indeed...
ReplyDeletedie gleitenden Bewegungen im Tanz glaubt man zu sehen in Deinen Bildern. Und doch, der zum Kreise werdende Schritt scheint in sich gekehrt und man glaubt eine gewisse Zurückgezogenheit zu spüren - als gäbe es den schmerzenden Abstand, das Getrenntsein vom Beobachter... in sich kreisende Bewegungen der eigenen Welt... so nehmen wir uns in Acht vor dem wahren Tänzer, denn er tanzt alleine...!
ReplyDeleteAch, das sind so meine Gedanken hier, die ich eigentlich gar nicht preisgeben sollte, da sie ja eine gewisse Traurigkeit enthalten, aber dann hätte ich ja nichts gesagt...
Ich wünsche Dir die Begegnung mit dem Tänzer, der Dich einlädt zu seinem Tanze...!
Dir eine gute Nacht mit guten und schönen Träumen!
Renée
Still slain...
ReplyDeleteHello dear Roxana,
ReplyDeletethis fan tastic invent goes with me everywhere during the long mediterranean summer.
Do you know that there is a secret lenguage you can use with it? There is almost 40 movements with its meanings.
I tell you some of them, but in spanish.
*Abanicarse rápidamente: te amo intensamente.
*Abanicarse lentamente: me eres indiferente.
*Apoyarlo sobre la mejilla derecha es un "sí". Sobre la izquierda es un "no".
Misteriosas y apasionadas imágenes, tan como tú.
Un grandísimo abrazo***
Owen, still slain? :-)
ReplyDeleteFlipi, mulţumesc de trecere si pentru faptul ca te-ai lăsat aruncat peste stânci, peste ţărmul minunat, că nu ţi-a fost teamă să deschizi sacul de emoţii şi sentimente :-)
poate că mergând până la capătul mai-întunericului, descoperi tot mai-luminosul, cine ştie :-)
cu drag.
Dan, i love the way you look at my pictures, every time you let them echo into you and come back as belonging to you - thank you for that openness and generosity!
ReplyDeleteKubla, of course! perhaps a disquiet follow-up? "maddeningly beautiful" - to hear this from you makes my day :-)
merc, the dancer's magic will always stay with us, won't it?
oh James, i've read and re-read your comment, and am astonished, as always, by how precise, elegant, rich and subtle your analysis always is. what you say here about photography stays with me: "The photographer’s subject is not stillness, though it might seem so --- but rather the moment of a turn, when a single shiver unites the ordinary chaos of mere events" - i have always felt this when taking a picture, felt how the world's separate entities shifted into a single unity, instantly, the moment i took the picture, composing a structure, perhaps structure is the best word, or a living tissue of résonances, in the baudelairian sense... that actually seems, at that time, the only one real and the only one possible...
ReplyDeletebut i had never thought of expressing it as you did here... :-)
dear Madeleine, your description, i should say 'essay', touching upon the themes of eroticism and spirituality, passion and death, love and grace, is so beautiful and rich, that i find myself speechless, i don't even know what i could say, except that i wish my pictures would really stand up to your vision, i hope that...
thank you, petite ile d'emotion et d'exuberance :-)
Stickup, i am happy the post touched you in so many ways, becoming a celebration of all senses, what more could i wish? thank you, dear friend...
dear Lynne and Manuela, i am answering both of you together as you have expressed the same preference for the second picture, which is perhaps the one i love most too :-)
ReplyDeleteit made me think of a geisha, that sever mouth cut contrasted with the fluidity of the other shapes, the evanescence of the body opposed to the mask-like rigidity of the white face.
in fact, i was playing with the this image of the geisha in the poem as well, but it didn't work out well so i finally gave it up :-)
chere Clo, tu n'es jamais en retard ici, le Pont fremit de joie chaque fois que tu passes dessus :-) ravie de savoir que tu te laisses envoutir par cette dance...
j'arrive moi-aussi bientot dans ton monde ou le printemps se trouve deja a la maison, en fait j'y ai deja ete plusieurs fois mais tant de beaute m'a rendue contemplative et j'ai prefere de jouir en silence de tes fleurs et plumes magnifiques :-)
bisous, de tout coeur
Alain, je pense qu'elle aimerait ta description "une belle gitane" :-) merci, cher ami...
ReplyDeleteCerasela, ai descris-o atat de frumos, ca imaginile mele palesc :-)
anonymous, how on earth did you know that she was Gentle?!! i know it is just a coincidence, but i am still amazed. oh, in case you wonder, Gentle does exist, sometimes here on the Bridge as well, though mostly silent :-)
ach, liebste Renée, wieso solltest Du Deine Gedanken nicht preisgeben, deine Gefuehle sind so wertvoll fuer mich - und alles, was meine Bilder in Dir bewirken (und ueberhaupt, deine Gedanken und Gefuehle - im allgemeinen :-)... und wie gut hast Du hier die feine Spannung, die Zurueckgezogenheit der Taenzerin gespuert, ja, das enspricht meinen eigenen Gedanken... ich bewundere Taenzer sehr, und hab immer gedacht, dass sie voellig unabhaengige Leute sind, die man nie an sich 'binden' kann - weil sie eben ganz ihrem Tanz hingegeben sind, und alles andere kommt an zweiter Stelle...
ReplyDeletesei ganz lieb umarmt, liebe Freundin, und zoegere nie, mir zu sagen, was Du hier auf der Bruecke empfindest...
ah, Ofelia, what a wonderful addition to this post, no, i didn't know that and now i am lost imagining whole worlds of possible codes and meanings :-)
thank you so much, dear beautiful and mysterious friend...
I don't know :-)
ReplyDeleteit is because she is so quiet, because she "sometimes exists", that i recognized her...
ReplyDelete"a living tissue of résonances"
ReplyDeleteyes, that's it!! :-)
.
Your secret women always astound me.
ReplyDeletehow exotic :) I love that first picture and this gorgeous interpretation:
ReplyDelete"your dress pierced with seeds of light.
the fan moved like a bird in your hand."