Finest, most haunting.
Last night i had misplaced it. Silly me. It was there, athwart the sky, fleeing from some puffy, gangsterish clouds. Luckily you found it for me. You know that it reminds me of a basketball and, by some interstellar connection, Bach's prelude in C major. So, can i just say 'thank you, dearest?'
Mystical - and SO true! B E A U T I F UL!!!
This is so provocative. It makes me think a number of things. I think of DuChamp's Readymades. One removes the object from its environment and places it in a gallery. It no longer is what it was. Also, the difference between sensation and perception. Perception being a processing of sensing and attaching meaning to it. A cloud is no longer a cloud; it is a sign from god. It gets down to the metaphorical basis of language itself. A word is but a word until it is felt. then it ceases to be an arrangement of letters or ink on a page. It has become a meaning.
mere copies of the eternal Forms... :)
But people dislike the real. They refuse, refuse, refuse to believe in it. The real, on the other hand, does not care. ( :
I'm sure you know, Roxana, the Leonard Cohen lyric - but if you don't, "There is a crack in everything - that's how the light gets in."
the picture of the crack in the window is extraordinary!! i was going to mention the same cohen line that neil mentioned (though i am just as sure that you already know it :-) ... indeed, as if there is a crack in the nature of reality, and the light of another world, another day, bleeds into this one ...looking is like language ... just by looking, just by naming ... we remove the moon from the sky, transform the moon into "the moon" ... but what else can we do? can we know anything, except by looking, by naming? and yet this act removes the moon, the lily, the crack from reality and places them within the universe of signs ... are we, then, unable to touch the real??? ... maybe ...... ever??? ... (i am afraid) ...
hello my beautiful friend. your moon is beautiful.the other night we had a beautiful orange moon in the still light brilliant blue sky.it reminded me of a celestial prayer as my birthday month is october a month guided by an orange moon.I'll be back to comment on your masterpeice soon-I mean on your presentation here -I mean on the moon -well they are one and the same -you fabulous dream weaver goddess.sending you starlight kisses
"the picture of the crack in the window is extraordinary!! i was going to mention the same cohen line that neil mentioned (though i am just as sure that you already know it :-) ... indeed, as if there is a crack in the nature of reality, and the light of another world, another day, bleeds into this one ...looking is like language ... just by looking, just by naming ... we remove the moon from the sky, transform the moon into "the moon" ...but what else can we do? can we know anything, except by looking, by naming? and yet this act removes the moon, the lily, the crack from reality and places them within the universe of signs ... are we, then, unable to touch the real??? ... maybe ...... ever??? ... (i am afraid) ..."James, do you really want to know the answer to this question? (BTW, this is one of the most astute insights into Roxana's work that I have ever seen on the Bridge). You are right to be afraid, though. Please let R know if you really want an answer.) ( :
I have heard the physisists say that the act of observing changes what is being observed. Seems we play a large part in the formation of both our personal and collective "reality" and that it is a constantly changing, evolving phenomenon based upon an infinite amount of unknowable forces. I love that last photo and the idea of the crack, a tear in the fabric of reality, that lets in the light...
ah my beautiful friend this is so beautiful, I was listening to Beethoven's ninth symphony as I viewed your photos and it was an awesome texture for your photos.and your powerful words"just by looking at the moon the moon ceases to be real" yes each time we look at the moon or an earth flower we look throught a stream of consciousness that is in a constant state of flux.we look through the 2012 transit of venus crossing the edge of the sunwe look through the milky way galaxy as it reels in her anticipation of collision with the andromeda galaxywe look through the streams of consciousness that run through our blood dreams and the scintillating gloriousness of mortal life from the ancient times of prometheus to the now when we steal fire from the future and are reminded that we are all golden ring bearers.and this masterpeice has led me to consider a novel ideal-that when we wake up at dawn we feel that we begin a new day sometimes it almost feels like a new life and perhaps this is because through the crack of light during our nighttime dreams the lightmind transfigures the soul making available immortal solutions because they have been solved by another alternate non waking world.(in evidence of this haha I sometimes have woken up to have found the solution to a problem.thankyou for this masterpeice my friend.for this breathtaking beauty.sending you golden kisses
thank you so much for all your reactions, as many of you have touched upon the same or closely connected matters, i won't answer separately this time. yes, i had actually intended to use just the crack-photo coupled with the Cohen-line :-) (a marvelous song, that one is), but then the other images seemed to fit in to give shape to more interrogations about gaze and the nature of the real. and while i was pondering my answer, i luckily came across this most wonderful quote from William Bronk (whom i am discovering now as a really impressive poet), and i thought it would be only fitting to add it to our discussion here, especially that James had mentioned the analogy looking/language: "Poetry is about reality in the way that a lens is about light. It is best when it is clear and transparent, when it is least there, in the sense of calling the least attention to itself. If it distorts, the nature of the distortion may even be multiple, so long as it doesn't muddle, so long as it releases the light that it gathers, so long as the light it gathers does not die there, absorbed, but is released to illuminate reality. The lens of poetry.... makes nothing, it changes nothing, but it focuses on reality, on what there is.... It is serious and unevasive as few activities are. It may seem evasive, though, since it is the nature of the reality, of what there is, that it evades all statements of it, even the statement a poem makes. Speaking of poetry, we found it resisted definition. Speaking of what there is, we find it resists all statements, and direct statement most of all. Are there two perceptions here, or are they one? One might say, for trial, that poetry is a statement about what there is, so attentive, so scrupulous, that it partakes of the nature of its subject: what there is, is poetry; it is not made; it is attended to. Is it not also true that it is the nature of what there is, closely attended to, that it cries out for the directest kind of statement? It is my conviction and practice that this cry, these statements, are poetry also, impossibly so, but so, nevertheless."
and yet~i don't think that we do touch the real. i was thinking of language and how we are removed by the word, the word always a wall. i was thinking of the flesh too. never can we get inside of the one we love, whether a child, a lover or a friend and yet inside is where we yearn to be. (and isn't that it with language, with poetry, with all art? aren't we yearning to get inside the real?) i don't think from inside these bodies we ever get to touch the real, only lean toward it. this does not frighten me. in fact, it does the opposite. it instructs me to not fear leaving this body.your images are gorgeous. are they real? i think they are shards of mirror and reflections, of the world, yes, AND of you, whatever you are, that thing which you will one day meet more directly)))xoerin
"Speaking of what there is, we find it resists all statements, and direct statement most of all. Are there two perceptions here, or are they one?""Is it not also true that it is the nature of what there is, closely attended to, that it cries out for the directest kind of statement?"Is it it or us, this cry? Here, have a mangosteen . . . (:
frumusetea imaginilor este covarsitoare.nu as putea spune ceva foarte pertinent insa despre real,aici e intotdeauna greu:)lumea se opreste intr-un crin,la fel cum poate sa ia nastere tot din...nu voi putea spune niciodata daca detaliul estompeaza,intr-adevar,ansamblul sau din contra.stiu doar ca in fata frumusetii incremenesc