One-Lined Ideas for Writers, Part II

The suites of transformations you need to express things, respecting the conditions your have to respect.

You write, you read what you just wrote, in a loop. A closed balanced between you and you. A pleasure can resonate.

Pull weapons out of other people’s work – to use you own resources.

Find the person you write for – even if this person does not really exist. Golem it.

Use what is made for use. Find a drawer : open it. Break what is fragile. Push what tilts.

Try what has never be done, but appears as possible.

Your work can always been gone back over. This is your job. Find your “until”.

Try a thousand ways to write an idea until you meet a favorable words figure.

Find a force. Find where to use it. Apply a force.

At one moment you are attracted by what is needed, by what goes forward to the goal.

You dream to write, you desire to write, you call. But it’s not to be confused with the state where you MAKE.

Our most precious states are unstable – the artist answers trying to stabilize them.

What you feel. What you do. What you want to make feel.

 

All these microseeds come from Paul Valéry‘s Poietis (Poïétique). They aren’t quotes, I kneaded them for your pleasure. Have fun.

One-Lined Ideas for Writers, Part I

Thanks for reading!

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One-Lined Ideas for Writers, Part I

A writer doesn’t find his words. While he searches, he finds better ones.

How to read an instinct?

A writer places himherself on a place where he finds things on the left and language on the right.

The inventor saw, then showed.

Maybe art is one language opposed to the necessary disorder of the language.

A writer is able to abandon an idea in favor of another idea he found while he was looking for the words to tell the first one.

A worried sense of the possible, of the usable.

You have to find balance between intellect, exactitude, reason, cold, logical AND absurd harmonies, magical non sense, sensibility.

The geometric mind extracts signs, systems, structures and patterns from a question, a situation. Then he plays with the system, blind from reality, until he finds every useful aspects or facets he wants to put into light.

Embarrassments born from a find.

Some freedoms not imagined yet.

A writer who looks for the perfect effect. A writer who wants to learn something. Who’s right? One? Two? Both?

One secret is to give invisible things to the reader.

The one who wrote a verse wanted to move, not to be moved.

Importance of a text for an author, function of the unforeseen-ness it brings from himher to himherself while he builds it.

An idiot says a chair is a chair. The abundance of certain spirits is to use everything, to eat it, to turn around it and find patterns and possibles. A chair can be a ladder, a stake, a gym tool, a battering ram, a weapon, a stretcher, a cage…

All these microseeds come from Paul Valéry‘s Poietis (Poïétique). They aren’t quotes, I kneaded them for your pleasure. Have fun.

Thanks for reading!

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Two Thinkers Letters & Friendship : #Gide & #Valéry

Some friendships don’t need any oath.

It’s just there.

These days I’m happy because I found the best thinker I could imagine.

Paul Valéry (1871-1945) – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Val%C3%A9ry – a French poet, essayist and philosopher.

For me, he’s even stronger than Nietzsche!

In France, he’s known as a poet. That’s all…

Thus, I’m devouring his notebooks, his essays, his poetry : thousands of pages.

This guy is a genius! You can find his notebooks on the web. If you need seeds…

And, well, I read also books from André Gide (1869-1951) – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andr%C3%A9_Gide

Hence, I discovered they were friends.

I just ordered and got an almost 1000 pages book of their correspondence.

I was so glad to get it! As I was opening the box tonight, I thought : “Two of the best thinkers of their time!”…

…which I found on the back cover of the book :

“This friendship is a dream come true : two of the most gifted and most clever writers of their generation met at the beginning of their careers”.

A friendship.

Nothing, absolutely nothing (they were very different) could work loose or detach this friendship.

Valéry says it’s not about literature or common or complementary tastes. It was the faculty to follow each other, to instantly adapt, to guess each other with happiness…

In an article of Le Monde, the French newspaper, I found this :

“Leur dialogue de dandys supérieurs porte sur les moyens et la manière, jamais sur les principes et les fins”.

“Their dandy dialog is always about the means and the ways, never on the principles and the ends”.

Most of you will get it, right?

 

Well, that’s all, dear. I just wanted to share!

Thanks for reading!

Jean-Pascal

 

“…and nothing is more certain than an inclination which exist in itself, without any argument, without common feelings or ideas – like with no reason”.

P. Valéry

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Intellect & Emotions weaved in poetry : La Fileuse / The Spinner

Hi, my reader…

You know me a little : I love to watch and find structures, then I love to find two opposite qualities, then I love to find how they dance together, how they weave…

Thus I ask myself questions like “Does an artist have to explore his paths from him/herself, or does he have to learn all the rules of his/her Art before?”. Or “Does a piece of Art please the audience as it is, or does it please the audience with questions, links with other things, analysis bliss?”.

I know nothing about poetry, but as I’m interested in the translation processes (English/French), therefore I had to look at poetry “building”.

  • Some poets work on words alchemy, they create sparkles with unusual words and their combinations. It’s chemistry! Those are impossible to translate.
  • Some poets tell stories, they lead us into descriptions. You see images or/and movements. Those are possible to translate.
  • Of course : it’s often a fabric made of both…

 

Most of the time, the reader who knows a little and like poetry SEES what is activated. You could almost imagine the poet in his workshop…

 

There’s a delight in feeling sensations provided by a good line, and there’s another pleasure which is to understand why.

It’s why we often meditate on a poem. We read over. We stop. We suck it, feeling nuances like a good cigar or an old rich wine. This discipline activates your brain on many levels, and you can almost hear the levers and dials of your intelligence and sensitivity (sensibility?) moving their little feet in your dancing mind…

 

I chose “La Fileuse” (The Spinner), a poem by Paul Valéry, because… You’ll see…

I give the translated text (the French one is at the end). Of course the French rhymes are lost, their’s less music. Whatever.

 

Like in a quiet painting, a spinner falls asleep…

She fell asleep because of the blue sky, or the wheel’s noise, or is she tired? She spins wool, or her hair? Is it a poem or a dream?

Things resonate : swaying garden, rose, head, hair. All the poem can be seen as a “game of arrows” playing with your inner eyes : the woman, then the garden, the wheel, the blue, a tree, a stem, a rose, the woman, she spins (but she’s aslept, right?). Your “sights” are pulled, constantly…

The proceedings of the poem plays with paradoxes, facets, like a poetic proliferation. The time seems lost in dreammobility. The “camera” dances between small elements like in Pierre Boulez’s music. It’s like examining a small architecture (instead of following the time and the path of a “story”).

Therefore the reader is pleasantly lost, like in… a dream. He needs to go back to beginnings. Many little disturbances are like jewels in the painting. A stem, in which the wandering wind relaxes…

To keep it a poem, the translator chose to forget a few flakes :

  • Your sister the lofty rose, a smiling saint, -> a rose where a (female) saint smile
  • You languish . . . -> You think you languish…

 

Here is it. The poem has many assets…

  • You don’t clearly understand the poet’s wills
  • Strangeization of the phrases keeps you focused
  • You’re not clearly explained the images
  • It’s a game of chemistry and at the same time a game for thinker
  • Your “logic” is caught, then it’s driven into a unlogic
  • It’s maybe meta : the poem looks like a dream of a dreaming person
  • It says something about the freedom of a poet
  • It respects rules (it’s poetry) but it does NOT
  • Things are unclear, things can be many things at a time (hair/wool)
  • Resonance between things (nodding garden, flowers, head), creating a quiet dance
  • The poet disturbs you, tests you, and your images inner builder
  • Multiple re-readings brings you something, clues
  • This poem, maybe, has to be SOLVED

Thanks for reading!

 

The Spinner

Seated, the spinner in the casement blue—
The garden nods and sways melodiously;
The old wheel snores, and she becomes entranced.

Weary—having drunk the azure—of spinning
The nestling hair elusive to her frail
Fingers, she dreams; her little head bows down.

A bush and pure air make a lively stream
Suspended in the sunbeam: delightful sprinkles
Of flower-losses bathe the idler’s garden.

A stem, in which the wandering wind relaxes,
Bends the vain salute of its starry grace
Devoting to the wheel its splendid rose.

The sleeper spins a lonely woolen hair:
Mysteriously the subtle shadow weaves
Into the thread of long and sleeping fingers.

The dream unwinds angelic laziness:
Ceaseless, onto the sweet ingenuous spindle,
The hair waves gladly under her caress . . .

Behind so many flowers the azure hides,
The spinner girded round with leaves and light:
The sky of green is dying. The last tree burns.

Your sister the lofty rose, a smiling saint,
Perfumes your hazy brow with gentle wind
Of innocent breath; you languish . . . You are fading

In casement blue where you were spinning wool.

La Fileuse

Assise, la fileuse au bleu de la croisée
Où le jardin mélodieux se dodeline,
Le rouet ancien qui ronfle l’a grisée.

Lasse, ayant bu l’azur, de filer la câline
Chevelure, à ses doigts si faibles évasive,
Elle songe, et sa tête petite s’incline.

Un arbuste et l’air pur font une source vive
Qui suspendue au jour, délicieuse arrose
De ses pertes de fleurs le jardin de l’oisive.

Une tige, où le vent vagabond se repose,
Courbe le salut vain de sa grâce étoilée,
Dédiant magnifique, au vieux rouet, sa rose.

Mais la dormeuse file une laine isolée ;
Mystérieusement l’ombre frêle se tresse
Au fil de ses doigts longs et qui dorment, filée.Le songe se dévide avec une paresse
Angélique, et sans cesse, au fuseau doux crédule,
La chevelure ondule au gré de la caresse…

Derrière tant de fleurs, l’azur se dissimule,
Fileuse de feuillage et de lumière ceinte :
Tout le ciel vert se meurt. Le dernier arbre brûle.

Ta sœur, la grande rose où sourit une sainte,
Parfume ton front vague au vent de son haleine
Innocente, et tu crois languir… Tu es éteinte

Au bleu de la croisée où tu filais la laine.

 

 

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Juxtaposition & Continuity VS Instant Nuggets : an efficient Art Pattern

When I find a structure like this, an Art-Pattern, I’m as happy as a kid who found a colored beetle under a rock. Here it is :

ONE

In the bonuses of the war movie Dunkirk, C. Nolan explains that he want to puts tension and stress in the audience. Firstly, he does it the normal way, with the story and its continuity/proceedings (suspense, following action, etc). Secondly, he wants that every little part of the movie to be stressful “in itself”, in the way it’s done at the moment (with sound, music, cut, etc). Cut 5 seconds randomly in the movie and bite your nails!

Dunkirk as a MAYA & Strangeization sensorial experience

TWO

The day before, I was reading an article in the train (there’s some bliss to read in a train) written by Paul Valéry about Marcel Proust‘s masterpiece “In Search of Lost Time”. He says something I already noticed & told you about : if the novel is great from its “stories”, you can pick ANY PAGE in the thousands, you’ll find a great idea. In each page, there’s a seed…

Proust was a blogger…

THREE

I bought two photography books last week. Stephen Shore‘s Uncommon Places (in USA) and Raymond Depardon‘s Habiter en France (“To live in France”). At first I was not that impressed by Depardon’s work. Shore’s photos are so gorgeous you can melt your brain into them, like in front of a painting. With Depardon in France, you have a little parking place, a road, a church. It’s touching, but it is almost “just ordinary”. BUT…

Watching many of them, though, you begin to understand there are patterns (like juxtaposing modernity and “old France”) : the pleasure is not in each photography, but in what you find when you watch many of them…

“Why do you live in this place?” – Shore & Depardon

Stephen Shore, mesmeric #Photographer

PATTERN/TOOL

How could we call that? There are two tools presented here, and I admit I’ve been amazed to notice them in a single week, in three differents Arts (Movies, Literature, Photography).

What could we say about this in Architecture, Poetry, Teaching? What about weaving them? Are artists aware of that? What could it bring them to be aware? Where is the efficiency? Can the artist offer a clue on more discreet propositions? What do you prefer? What is the more satisfying? To focus on each little part (moment, second, page, verse), or to focus on the proceedings, the long development of a piece? What other questions does it trigger?

Thanks for reading!

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