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Every Man His Chimaera

Under a vast grey sky, on a vast and dusty plain without paths, without grass, without a nettle or a thistle, I met several men bent double as they walked.

Each one of them carried on his back an enormous Chimera as heavy as a sack of flour or coal or the paraphernalia of a Roman infantryman.
But the monstrous beast was no inanimate weight; on the contrary, it enveloped and oppressed the man with its elastic and powerful muscles; it clutched at the breast of its mount with two vast claws; and its fabulous head overhung the man’s forehead like one of those horrible helmets with which ancient warriors hoped to add to the terror of their enemy.

I questioned one of these men and asked him where they were going like that. He replied that he did not know and that none of them knew, but that they were evidently going somewhere since they were driven by an invincible need to go on.

A curious thing to note: none of these travelers seemed irritated by the ferocious beast hanging around his neck and glued to his back; one might have said that they considered it part of themselves. All these tired and serious faces showed not the least sign of despair; under the spleenful dome of the sky, their feet deep in the dust
of the earth as desolate as the sky, they continued along with the resigned physiognomy of those who are condemned to hope forever.

And the cortège passed by me and disappeared in the atmosphere of the horizon, where the rounded surface of the planet is concealed from the curiosity of the human gaze.

And for a few moments I persisted in trying to comprehend this mystery; but soon irresistible Indifference descended upon me and I was more heavily overwhelmed than they were by their crushing Chimeras.

(Baudelaire, ‘Chacun sa chimère’, Le spleen de Paris, Armand Colin,
Paris, 1958:10–11)

Cada um com sua quimera

Cada um com sua quimera

Sob um vasto céu gris, numa grande campina poenta, sem caminhos, sem ervas, sem um cardo nem uma urtiga, eu encontrei muitos homens que marchavam curvados.

Cada um deles carregava nas costas uma enorme Quimera, tão pesada quanto um saco de farinha ou de carvão, ou então os petrechos de um legionário romano.

Porém o monstruoso bicho não era uma carga inerte; pelo contrário, ele envolvia e apertava o homem com seus músculos elásticos e potentes, cravava duas garras compridas no peito da sua cavalgadura, e a cabeça fabulosa dele sobrepujava a testa do homem como um daqueles elmos horríveis por meio dos quais os antigos guerreiros procuravam acrescentar ao terror do inimigo. Eu abordei um desses homens e perguntei-lhe aonde eles iam assim. O homem respondeu que nem ele nem os outros sabiam nada disso, mas que, evidentemente, eles se dirigiam para algum lugar, impelidos por uma invencível necessidade de marchar.

Coisa estranha a notar: nenhum desses viajantes parecia irritado com a besta-fera suspensa no seu pescoço e colada às suas costas, como se a considerasse parte dele mesmo. Todos esses rostos cansados e sérios não testemunhavam desespero algum; sob a cúpula tediosa do céu, os pés engolfados na poeira de um solo tão desolado quanto aquele céu, eles caminhavam com a fisionomia resignada de quem se vê condenado à eternal esperança.

E o cortejo passou a meu lado e afundou-se na atmosfera do horizonte, lá onde a superfície arredondada do planeta se esquiva à curiosidade do olhar humano.

E, durante alguns instantes, obstinei-me em querer compreender esse mistério, mas pouco depois uma irresistível indiferença veio desabar sobre mim, e eu fiquei mais oprimido por ela do que os homens pelas suas esmagadoras Quimeras.

Charles Baudelaire

letter to god


LETTER TO GOD
Courney Love / Hole

Oh dear god
I’m writing this letter to you
Cause I don’t have a clue
Can you help me?

I’m sitting here
Simply trying to figure out
What my life’s all about it
Can you tell me?

I never wanted to be
The person you see
Won’t you tell me who I am?

I always wanted to die
But you kept me alive
Please tell me who I am

I lie awake conducting this symphony,
That you have gifted to me,
but I don't ever sleep

Don’t get mad
Cause I get weak inside
And I start to fall apart
Cause I feel nothing

I never wanted to be
Some kind of comic relief
Please show me who I am

I been tortured and scorned
Since the day that I was born
But I don’t know who I am

And I thank you man for everything
Sorry I’m so frightened about all of this
Oh I wish I could give you more

But all the lights are shining down on me
And I feel violated by it all

I never wanted to be
The person you see but thank you
Oh god please tell me now
Are you disappointed or are you proud
I’ve been also EVRYTHING, EVRYTHING!

I’m so sorry I’m so weak
And I turned into a freak
But I don’t know ANYTHING, ANYTHING!

I’ve lost all self-esteem
A million, everything
And I feel NOTHING, NOTHING!

Oh god please tell me now
God please tell me now
Cause I feel nothing

Oh dear god I’m writing this letter to you
Cause I’m coming undone
Please help me, me

Francis Bacon

Francis Bacon in one of his studiosFrancis Bacon in his small and filthy London studio

Francis Bacon (1909, Dublin - 1992, Madri) is my idol. Who I admire and envy. A single scream, maybe monotonic, but unmistakable, and which shall echo till the end of this insane civilization. He never studied art, yet developed his own, very peculiar, way of painting, exploring distortions of the human figure, often mixed with animal forms, to show the violence encrusted in the cynical and alienated human kind.

Zdzisław Beksiński

Zdzisław Beksiński, polish fine artist, who was murdered in 2005Zdzisław Beksiński, polish fine artist, who was murdered in 2005

Zdzisław Beksiński (Februay 24, 1929 – February 21, 2005), evolved from "baroque" to "gothic". That's what he himself said, and in with the first classification he meant the "fantastic realism" that made him famous in the 1970's, where naturalistic representation and an intense post-apocalyptic atmosphere dominate; in the second group are the works from the 1990's to 2005, in which perspective doesn't play a dominant role, but he exploits the relationship between the flat surface and the three-dimentional ilusion, making it clear that painting is painting. Personally, I prefer the latter. They're more painterly and transcendental...

untitled, oil on hardboard, 87x73cm, 1974

untitled, oil on hardboard, 87x87cm, 1982

untitled, oil on hardboard, 87x87cm, 1984

untitled, oil on hardboard

untitled, oil on hardboard, 132 x 98 cm, 1983

untitled, oil on hardboard, 73 x 87 cm. 1977

untitled, oil on hardboard

untitled, oil on hardboard, 87 x 73 cm, 1979

TY, oil on hardboard, 88x92 cm, 1987

ZY, oil on hardboard, 92 x 88 cm, 1987

oil on hardboard

untitled, oil on hardboard, 92x88 cm, 1987

OG, oil on hardboard, 88x92cm, 1990

untitled, oil on hardboard

WA, oil on hardboard, 132 x 98 cm, 1996

untitled, oil on hardboard

TA, oil on hardboard, 92 x 88 cm, 1990

Y, oil on hardboard, 98 x 98 cm, 2005

Untitled pencil drawing, 70 x 100 cm, 1968Untitled pencil drawing, 70 x 100 cm, 1968

Head, metal scupture, 1960Head, metal scupture, 1960

Beksinski graduated in architecture and worked in the field for a few years. In the 50's he started working with photography, doing some disturbing image juxtapositions and collages and did a few exhibitions in Poland. It seems that he also draw a lot. In the 1960's painting gained more of his attention and in 1964 he had his first successful solo show in Warsaw, with all paintings sold out. Studying by himself he worked hard to achieve the painting techniques that helped him get famous as a fantastic realist in the 1970's. He painted in oils on hardboard prepared by himself.

Wife portrait, photography from 1956-57Wife portrait, photography from 1956-57

Beksinski, fotografiaPhotography from the 1950's.

Fotomontagem sem título, 2000-2005Montagem com fotografia digital, 2000-2005

computer photomontagecomputer photomontage, 1996-1997


Links:
One of the many YouTube videos from his fans

>>The artist's official site where the site's design, created in flash by Jarosław Kubicki, impresses more than the selection of Beksinski's artworks showni.

>>DmochowskiGallery.net, the virtual gallery created by the man responsible for popularizing Beksinski's work, Piotr Dmochowski.

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