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I died for Beauty
di Emily Dickinson
I died for Beauty – but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room –
He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I – for Truth – Themself are One –
We Bretheren, are”, He said –
And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up – our names –
oil on canvas, 50x50 cm
MUJER CON FLOR POR YKAY LEDEZMA - publication: youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva
oil on canvas, 60x80 cm
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allevents.in/bologna/june-in-italy/1064334560296387
twitter.com/ArteBoit/status/729982548328259584/photo/1
"ARTEBO", Bologna, Italy
The difference between Despair
And Fear－is like the One
Between the instant of a Wreck
And when the Wreck has been－
The Mind is smooth－no Motion－
Contented as the Eye
Upon the Forehead of a Bust－
That knows－it cannot see－
Emily Dickinson, poem (305)
oil on canvas, 50x60 cm; sold
poesia di Charles Baudelaire:
Amo, pallida bellezza, le tue sopracciglia abbassate,
Dove sembrano scorrere le tenebre,
I tuoi occhi, anche se neri, m'ispirano pensieri
Per niente funebri.
I tuoi occhi, che s'accordano coi tuoi capelli neri,
Con la tua capigliatura elastica,
I tuoi occhi, languidamente, mi dicono: "Se vuoi,
Amante della plastica musa,
Seguire la speranza che in te abbiamo eccitato,
E tutti i gusti che professi,
Potrai constatare la nostra voracità
Dall'ombelico alle natiche;
Troverai, su due bei seni pesanti,
Due larghe medaglie di bronzo,
E sotto un ventre liscio, dolce come velluto,
Bistrato come la pelle di un bonzo,
Un vello ricco che, davvero, è fratello
Di questa abbondante capigliatura,
Soffice e riccia, e che ti uguaglia in spessore,
Notte senza stelle, Notte oscura!"
oil on canvas, 40x50 cm
www.instagram.com/alicealicjacieliczka/
artebo.it/ARTISTA_Work.php?artista_id=254&artista_nom...
1) "Il labirinto di Meniere"; 2) "Animal Hominiforme"; 3) "Esoterico Enigma"
oil on canvas, 40x50 cm
"Longing is like the Seed
That wrestles in the Ground,
Believing if it intercede
It shall at length be found.
The Hour, and the Clime -
Each Circumstance unknown,
What Constancy must be achieved
Before it see the Sun! "
Emily Dickinson - poem 1255
acrylic/ oil on canvas; 40x50 cm;
poem by Julio Cortazar
I feel myself dying in you, overtaken by expanding
spaces, which feed on me just like hungry butterflies.
I close my eyes and I’m laid out in your memory, barely alive,
with my mouth wide open and the river of oblivion rising.
And you, patiently, with needle-nosed pliers, pul out
my teeth, my eyelashes, you strip
the clover from my voice, the shade from my desire,
you open up windows of space in my name
and blue holes in my chest
through which the summers rush out in mourning.
Transparent, sharpened, interwoven with air
I float in a drowse, and still
I say your name and wake you, anguished.
But you force yourself to forget me,
and I’m barely a bubble
reflecting you, which you’ll burst
with the blink of an eye.
MUJER CON FLOR POR YKAY LEDEZMA - publication: youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva
1) Art Exhibition /2014/; “ Strassen Galerie “, Wiener Neustadt, Austria www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10201300079782916.18002...
2) Art Exhibition /2015/, “ Primavera Romana “, Flyer Art Gallery, Rome, Italy www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1827037254596.75957.180...
I feel myself dying in you, overtaken by expanding
spaces, which feed on me just like hungry butterflies.
I close my eyes and I’m laid out in your memory, barely alive,
with my mouth wide open and the river of oblivion rising.
And you, patiently, with needle-nosed pliers, pul out
my teeth, my eyelashes, you strip
the clover from my voice, the shade from my desire,
you open up windows of space in my name
and blue holes in my chest
through which the summers rush out in mourning.
Transparent, sharpened, interwoven with air
I float in a drowse, and still
I say your name and wake you, anguished.
But you force yourself to forget me,
and I’m barely a bubble
reflecting you, which you’ll burst
with the blink of an eye.
poem by Julio Cortazar
art by Alice Alicja Cieliczka
oil on canvas, 40x50 cm
(1096), poem by Emily Dickinson
A narrow Fellow in the Grass
Occasionally rides -
You may have met him? Did you not
His notice instant is -
The Grass divides as with a Comb,
A spotted Shaft is seen,
And then it closes at your Feet
And opens further on -
He likes a Boggy Acre -
A Floor too cool for Corn -
But when a Boy and Barefoot
I more than once at Noon
Have passed I thought a Whip Lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled And was gone -
Several of Nature’s People
I know, and they know me
I feel for them a transport
Of Cordiality
But never met this Fellow
Attended or alone
Without a tighter Breathing
And Zero at the Bone.
1) Art exhibition /2011/; “Il gusto dell’ARTE”, Lovere, Italy;
www.facebook.com/193031898000785/photos/?tab=album&al...
2) youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva