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"[...] Time has transfigured them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love"
("A Arundel Tumb", Philip Larkin)
Foto: Museum für Vorgeschichte, Halle/Saale
The Transfiguration of Jesus is an event reported by the Synoptic Gospels in which Jesus is transfigured upon a mountain. Jesus becomes radiant, speaks with Moses and Elijah, and is called "Son" by God. The transfiguration put Jesus above Moses and Elijah, the two preeminent figures of Judaism.
Several mountains have been identified as the site of the Transfiguration. Bishop Cyril of Jerusalem wrote in the year 348 that he preferred Mount Tabor to Mount Hermon. Mount Tabor is closer to the center of Jesus's activities and therefore was accepted as the site of the transfiguration of Christ.
The Ion Mystic Forms - Geometric Symbolism Part I - The Hexagon And The Inner Circle by Daniel Arrhakis (2022)
A Hexagon is the most powerful geometric shape found throughout nature and is the symbol of harmony and balance.
Because of its two interlocking triangles, the hexagon as a symbol also of male and female energy.
A hexagon has six equal sides and is one of the building blocks of life and one of the principal governing patterns dominant in the natural world. From honeycombs to the center of snowflakes, from Basalt prismatic structures to the structure of the benzene ring (six bonded carbons) , the hexagon is everywhere.
The hexagon is also found in the structure of DNA; it forms the chains that produce the double-helix macromolecule.
On Saturn’s north pole, there’s an enduring cloud formation in the shape of a hexagon. The total size is bigger than Earth.
The centered Hexagon is a sign of Perfection. Indeed the sides of the hexagon are the same length as the radius. The inside is similar to the outside. This is also why hexagons are structurally stable – their regularity and evenness of shape allows them to repeat, and their near-circularity allows maximum perfect load distribution - hexagons are the perfect compromise between circularity and angularity.
Perfect number for Pythagoras, the Hexagon represents Creation, the archetype of the Soul of the World. Sign of Harmony and complementarity of polarities.
Six is the number of creation, and perfection, symbolizing divine power, majesty, wisdom, love, mercy, and justice.
The hexagon symbolism was used to convey the spiritual attainment of in individual on the mummified body in Egypt. The six-sided geometric shape is found in many spiritual symbols such as the center of the Star of David (The Seal of Solomon) , The Tree of Life in the Kabbalah and the Hagal Rune composed by ancient tribes of northern Europe.
The circle inscribed in a regular hexagon has 6 points touching the six sides of the regular hexagon. It’s a universal sign, with almost all cultures revering it as a sacred symbol. The circle represents limitless things, among them eternity, unity, God, infinity, and wholeness.
The Hexagon And The Inner Circle In The Ion Mystical World
In the Mystical World of Ion, the Hexagon is one of the most important mystical shapes alongside the Circle or Triangle.
It represents the harmony and balance of six primordial mystical elements: air, fire, water, rock, spirit (Soul or Knowledge) and the living beings in which Man and Woman are inserted.
In this cosmological or universal pantheistic vision, God or the Universal Spirit is present in all things, whether animate or inanimate, so that human creations themselves are the result of a creative universal spirituality influenced or not by the process of social acculturation.
In this view God is not the absolute creator but a universal spirituality that can be found throughout the cosmos, in every physical and chemical manifestation, in every element of nature and is everywhere, for he is the whole, universal and infinite.
The circle within the Hexagon is often symbolized in the Mystic World of Ion by the shell of a nautilus and represents infinity, eternity, the notion of God as a universal spirit, the beginning and end of timeless cycles that renew themselves in infinite realities, the circle of generations, the light that illuminates the darkness, the universal knowledge of all things unattainable and immeasurable.
Even if physically we are all mortal, we end up achieving a kind of immortality in the generations that follow us and in the knowledge we share.
Here, Man or Woman is the element responsible for transmitting this knowledge as the light that imposes itself on the darkness or eternal oblivion, which illuminates the way.
In a last analysis, Humanity are the ultimate guardians of eternal life transfigured in succeeding generations.
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As Formas Místicas de Ion - Simbolismo Geométrico Parte I - O Hexágono e o Círculo Interno por Daniel Arrhakis (2022)
Um Hexágono é a forma geométrica mais poderosa encontrada em toda a natureza e é um símbolo de harmonia e equilíbrio.
Por causa dos seus dois triângulos interligados, o hexágono surge como símbolo também da energia masculina e feminina.
Um hexágono tem seis lados iguais e é um dos blocos de construção da vida e um dos principais padrões principais dominantes no mundo natural. Dos favos de mel ao centro dos flocos de neve, das estruturas prismáticas do basalto à estrutura do anel de benzeno(seis carbonos ligados), o hexágono está em toda parte.
O hexágono também é encontrado na estrutura do DNA; forma as cadeias que produzem a macromolécula de dupla hélice.
No pólo norte de Saturno, há uma formação de nuvens permanente na forma de um hexágono. O seu tamanho total é maior que a Terra.
O Hexágono centrado é um sinal de Perfeição. De fato, os lados do hexágono têm o mesmo comprimento que o raio. O interior é semelhante ao exterior. É também por isso que os hexágonos são estruturalmente estáveis - sua regularidade e uniformidade na forma permitem que eles se repitam, e sua quase circularidade permite a distribuição perfeita da carga máxima - os hexágonos são o compromisso perfeito entre circularidade e angularidade.
Número perfeito para Pitágoras, o Hexágono representa a Criação, o arquétipo da Alma do Mundo. Sinal de Harmonia e complementaridade de polaridades.
Seis é o número da criação e perfeição, simbolizando o poder divino, majestade, sabedoria, amor, misericórdia e justiça.
O simbolismo do hexágono foi usado para transmitir a realização espiritual de um indivíduo no corpo mumificado no Egito. A forma geométrica de seis lados é encontrada em muitos símbolos espirituais, como o centro da Estrela de David (O Selo de Salomão), A Árvore da Vida na Cabala e a Runa Hagal composta por antigas tribos do norte da Europa.
O círculo inscrito em um hexágono regular tem 6 pontos tocando os seis lados do hexágono regular. É um sinal universal, com quase todas as culturas reverenciando-o como um símbolo sagrado. O círculo representa coisas ilimitadas, entre elas eternidade, unidade, Deus, infinito e universalidade ou totalidade.
O Hexágono e o Círculo Interno (Inscrito) no Mundo Místico De Ion
No Mundo Místico de Íon, o Hexágono é uma das formas místicas mais importantes ao lado do Círculo ou Triângulo.
Representa a harmonia e equilíbrio de seis elementos místicos primordiais: ar, fogo, água, rocha, espírito (Alma ou Conhecimento) e os seres vivos nos quais o Homem e a Mulher estão inseridos.
Nessa visão cosmológica ou panteísta universal, Deus ou o Espírito Universal está presente em todas as coisas, sejam animadas ou inanimadas, de modo que as próprias criações humanas são o resultado de uma espiritualidade criativa universal influenciada ou não pelo processo de aculturação social.
Nessa visão, Deus não é o criador absoluto, mas uma espiritualidade universal que pode ser encontrada em todo o cosmos, em cada manifestação física e química, em cada elemento da natureza e está em toda parte, pois ele é o todo, universal e infinito.
O círculo dentro do Hexágono é muitas vezes simbolizado no Mundo Místico de Íon pela concha de um nautilus e representa o infinito, a eternidade, a noção de Deus como um espírito universal, o início e o fim de ciclos intemporais que se renovam em realidades infinitas, o círculo de gerações, a luz que ilumina as trevas, o conhecimento universal de todas as coisas inatingíveis e imensuráveis.
Mesmo que fisicamente sejamos todos mortais, acabamos alcançando uma espécie de imortalidade nas gerações que nos seguem e no conhecimento que compartilhamos.
Aqui, o Homem ou a Mulher é o elemento responsável por transmitir esse conhecimento como a luz que se impõe na escuridão ou no esquecimento eterno, que ilumina o caminho.
Em última análise, a Humanidade é a guardiã última da vida eterna transfigurada nas gerações sucessivas.
Persuadé que la beauté est omniprésente, même dans les objets les plus prosaïques, le "paysan normand" s'est très tôt engagé dans la recherche d'un art multiple susceptible de transfigurer le réel.
Persuaded that beauty is omnipresent, even in the most prosaic objects, the "Norman peasant" was very early engaged in the search for a multiple art likely to transfigure the real.
2ndSundayofLent022821-Without Words
Have you ever been overwhelmed by being somewhere, or by experiencing something that has left you speechless? Who has not been in Awe before the mighty ocean? Who has not experienced wonder before the explosion of autumn colors in our Rocky Mountains? Who has not fallen silent in the presence of a newborn? Even ordinary events such as the big snowstorm on Ash Wednesday, leaves us in shock. Have you ever listened to some music that lifts you to another place in your mind? These events and many other like events mark themselves in our memory, as something extraordinary! What defines these experiences is our inability to communicate fully with words what has happened with in ourselves.
In our gospel reading, we have Jesus leading Peter, James, and John to such an “awe ha” moment. They go up a mountain and according to the Gospel of Luke-Jesus’ purpose was to pray. His three disciples faithfully follow him. What happened next would surely leave Peter, James, and John speechless. According to Luke when they arrived at their climbing destination Jesus started to pray. What did the disciples do? Luke again fills in some specific details-they went to sleep; however, they were soon awakened! What they witnessed were two men, Moses, and Elijah, in conversation with Jesus. Jesus was transfigured…his garments were glistening and intensely white! The Gospel of Mark says that Jesus’ face shone like the sun…and his garments were white as light! If that wasn’t overwhelming enough, a cloud came, casting a shadow over them…and from the cloud a voice saying…”This is my beloved Son, Listen to him.” Who among us, would not be moved to wonder and awe at such an experience?
I can remember, a year ago, my wife and I were at St. Peter’s in Rome! Not only where we going to participate in a Mass, I was going to be one of the deacons serving at the altar. Never, before, have I experienced a church celebration in such a place. Before it started, I was terrified! All my senses were engaged with what I was experiencing…there in that ancient place. It left me speechless! However, on further reflection, it occurred to me, that I had missed the biggest wonder of all and that is the event of the changing of the bread and wine, into the body and blood of Jesus. Jesus had come to me and I missed him. Was I sleeping? No, I was preoccupied with everything else.
If we are not experiencing these extraordinary feelings of awe and wonder in our Mass experience , we must ask ourselves why? What are we missing? Think about it! What does our Church teach us about what is happening at this very altar? For certain we can feel grateful for God’s great creation and it should leave us with inexpressible gratitude for the many gifts the surround us and support us. But every Sunday, here we stand, ready to receive literally the Body of Christ-HIS greatest and most intimate gift. We may understand this perfectly in our heads, but do we feel it deeply in our hearts. Other Christian churches have reduced this glorious event of ours to a mere symbol. Are we approaching this event as though it is a mere symbol?
Lent is a significant time for us to answer the question, that I asked a moment ago. Are we experiencing Jesus, in this most intimate encounter, we formerly call the “Liturgy of the Eucharist?”
It starts here! Dr. Timothy O’Malley, in his book “Bored Again Catholic-How the Mass Could Save Your Life,” explains this encounter beautifully. (And I quote)
The Mass is a sacrifice insofar as it is a real commemoration of Christ’s Passion. The Mass recalls the past and makes it present. “This presence is possible because the sacrifice in question has never ended. His sacrifice of love continues even now, as the sacrifice of the cross passes over into the drama of the altar.”
He continues…
“At Mass, I slowly began to pay attention during the Eucharistic offering not to the priest’s face at the altar or even his gestures. Not to the families gathered before me. But the large crucifix above the altar. As I learned to see the Eucharistic Prayer as a real encounter with Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, I found myself better able to bear my sorrows.”
Timothy concludes by saying...
“After an entire Lenten season of participating in Sunday Mass in this way, I found that I had been transformed by the language of sacrifice in the Eucharistic Prayer. Christ was presenting to me at every Mass the totality of love. He was giving me love in the midst of suffering, in the midst of sorrow. I could receive it. I could become it.” (end quote)
Each week we gather, and in a similar way are being led up to the mountain, like Peter, James, and John by the Holy Spirit-the image that comes to mind is a shepherd gathering his sheep. Unlike the Apostles who unexpectedly witnessed the glorious transfiguration, we know what is going to take place and we are speechless.
-rc
On the eighties, when I have nearly sixteen I had a bike accident. Then I must wear cervical collar for nearly a year. For hide the medical device, I always wear a turtleneck colored sweater, I also let my hairs grows, as a longer bob witch I have before, but the wide device have also parts on chest who look I have small breast. Having an androgynous look was the best choice in this situation. If in school, where they know me since few years, they call me by my name, and of course some bad boys like to mock me, in public they always call me miss, and time after time I used to, sometimes even my mother do also a gender mistake. However, one day, I was cure and I must remove the device. I was happy about that, but also very sad, I do not know really why.
Quickly, my mother call me for a talk. I have an idea about the subject. She said than I must have a haircut now, because I have any reason for wearing long hairs yet. She propose me to find one in fashion magazines who have girls and boys hairstyles pictures. We read many magazines pages, sometimes I find a girls portrait and point out than they are very pretty, especially a blue eyes girl with nice curly blond bob. Then she give me a friendly nudge and say I’m not here to watch girls but to find an haircut, after guys samples pictures than we two find very boring. We stop on a pixie asymmetrical short bob haircut on an androgynous girl, and my mother love it very well, the legend say ‘this hairstyle is very fashionable also for young men. The fashion gender detail is on the earrings, one in right ear for man, and multiple piercings earrings exhibited for girls. My mother ask me if I like, and say yes, I found it is nice. She also ask, if that bother me having an earring and answer then I am ok with that, even find it cool. After that, she said than my ordinary hairdresser cannot do that, and call his beauty parlor for the appointment.
The day of the haircut, arrive. My mother say than she have wash and prepare some clothing for this hot sunny day , there was lying on the bed, a cut jean and an old pink tank top and also a brand new white tennis shoes pair. ‘Don’t wear socks, It’s too hot today’ she said. I try to put the t-shirt in the jean but she said ‘let it out, It’s cool like that, hey ! you are late, hurry up !’. She drive to the small suburb mall than she used to go, and dropped me off. I enter in his beauty center, which it was both beauty salon and hairdresser. It’s smell both perfume and chemicals. I walk to the counter, and a young girl ask me if I am Kelly, I nod my head, and she order to follow her. We enter in a closed room with a massage bed on center. She ask me to remove my jean and lying on. Soon another girl with blond hair bun and a pink blouse say than I must be relax. Then she prepare some hot stuff witch smell candle and apply it on my leg, after few seconds she quick take it off. It’s hurt a hell, after the both front legs done, she ask me to turn my body completely, for the other side of my legs. After, she ask me to take my top off and lying again, then she do the same to my armpit. After his hands come closer of my face, she remove my nascent mustache and work on my eyebrow. After she apply some hot towels on me, she ask me to stay there and she go to a backroom, I hear her washing his hand and some noises like to prepare some stuff and latex gloves wearing. She come back and ask if I’m ready to have my ear pierced, I answer with a smile. Then she ask me to turn my head to put my left cheek on the bed. She apply some alcohol on my right lobe and fell a metal device on it. I hear a small pop and fell a short pain. I try to stand up but she said ‘no, no, young girl It’s not finish yet, stay calm’ then she repeat the process twice and ask me to turn the other cheek on the bed. Then, as I feel beat on my right ear, I hear, time after time, the pop noise tree times and his consequential sharp pain. She ask me to sit and wash my ears with a little cleaner tower. All my body hurt a hell from my feet to my ears. She request to put my clothes back on and after she help me to wear a freely pink cape dress, after she order me to follow her. We came out of the room and enter into the hairdresser zone, an older girl come to me smile and say ‘Hi Kelly welcome, your mother have explain me all the story and what you want for your haircut, are you ready for that ?’. I just smile and nod. She ask me to seat on the washing chair, and said that it take a long, and must be patient. Then she do not just wash it with a shampoo, than I suppose too, but she prepare some chemical on a bowl and after, put it on my hairs. It is both smell and burn my scalp a little. After a long time, she rinse my head and wash it. I stand up and she ask to sit on a chair in the corner of the room without any mirrors, she say ‘your mother ask me to be there when you will be ready, and will be together for the makeover discovery’ (I thought about, but I do not understand what my mother have engineered). Then she comb my hair and said than I am lucky having beautiful hair like that, and fortunately they are enough long now for the hairdo project. She just touch up, but no cut or mow than I supposed to be done for the asymmetric bob. In fact, she put many curlers, one after the other. When all my hairs was roll she spray some chemical stuff again, put my head under a dryer and order to wait there until the dryer ring. After an eternity, she put me on the washing chair again, she rinse my hairs again and remove gently all the rollers, we return to the ‘torture’ chair. As I walk, I fell curls bouncing on my forehead and my cheeks. The hairdresser comb my hairs and move the dryer around, she also push up the lowers curls with his hand as she apply the hairspray. She step forward and turn the chair on a full circle. She said that It is wonderful, it is exactly she expect and have done a good job. I‘am happy for her but I do not know what it is about. After few minutes waiting two glamour girl come in with a loaded trolley. While the first girl remove my tennis shoes, the other wash my face with some oil. After that, I don’t remember clearly, because I dozing off sometimes, I just remember she apply some stuff on my face while the other take my feet and hands and set my all fingers one by one. Then she ask me to stand up, and help me removing the cape, I almost fell because the feet girl have replace my tennis by a pair of a strap on black shoes with heels. I walk few step an hear my mother voice saying ‘I want to see, I want to see…’ behind a panel. Then the hairdresser who have prepare the show like a Houdini trick turn the mirror for reveal my reflection and me to my mother at the same time. I before show my mother putting his hand to his cheek and cry ‘oh my god, how beautiful you are ‘. Then I turn to the mirror and show the result of the ‘haircut’. I directly recognized the style of the girl who I notice on the magazine, but the girl on the mirror is not just ‘pretty’ like the printing portrait ,but literally stunning. His resplendent platinum blond hair twirl with bouncing aerial curls and form a large volume up of my head. Some curls fall on my forehead and my cheek for making a girly poetic touch, down the curl cascade descend to my neck with a line at the half of my ears and let reveals the brand new shinning earrings set. They are tree on both ears, a delicate gold flower with a little pearl on center, a bigger pearl on the upper hole, and finally a little pink brilliant. Finally yet importantly the face is also magic, my blue pierced eyes are wider and reveal by a black butterfly corner, pink gradient eyeshadow, long eyelashes, surrender by the subtle pair of my now fine arched eyebrows. My cheekbones raised by a combination of blushes. My red little poufy mouth seem to be a just open rose. The all arrangement, have transform me into a very attractive girls, not just for a hair sample magazine but ready for being a fashion model. I turn my head to see; the beauty of the hairdo, and how my face stay pretty on all angles. I understand now the clothing chose of my mother, the too small cut jean both tucked nicely my boy parts and revealed my thin long and now hairless legs, which ending by my now painted red nails feet in his girly-strapped shoes. The too short pink tank top reveal my tiny navel (which could be nice with a pendant piercing now days) and my feminine frail shoulders curve. To feel it, I touch it with my hand and see my long shiny red nails on it. I do not realize than the girl on the mirror is ‘me’, in fact. I have no other reaction than curiosity and admiration. Then my mother stay behind me, I can see his face beside my reflection, I feel his hot and delicate hands on my shoulder. Then , while she look into my eyes reflection, she whisper in my ear. “I observe you since a while Kelly, and see how you feel glad being a sort of ‘girl’ for a few months. I saw that it help you while the pain of the rehabilitation after the accident. I was not completely sure about that, but when I see your sadness and starting depression when we remove your cervical collar. I thought the ill being could be sourced by the unavoidable consequence of losing your feminization opportunity and must returning to your boring boyish condition. Thirst, I thought than the asymmetric pixie cut with the single earring could be a progressive and hybrid gender rolling back. However, I do not saw in you, any sign of happiness with this choice, just more resignation than consolation. Therefore, I remember your notice about the pretty girl and decode your hidden message. I switch my mind and come with the magazine of the winner hairstyle and few recent portraits of you to my beauty consultant. And here we are, welcome to our girl world my adored daughter’. As she said this long explanation, my eyes got wet, I flip to my mother to give it a big hug and sob. After I regain my means, she look at me and smile and say than we have a wide afternoon program for shopping a complete wardrobe, tops, skirts, dresses, shoes, underwear, also a makeup set and some jewelry like bracelet, necklaces, and of course a large collection of earrings. She see my large smile, request me to flip again and see my beauty transfigure by the happiness. After a long narcissistic period, we give warm thanks to all of the staff and literally run to the promise dreaming shopping program.
God is reading today.
R.I.P., Toni Morrison (18 February 1931 – 5 August 2019).
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▶ Toni Morrison, Nobel laureate who transfigured American literature, dies at 88
6 August 2019.
▶ The Radical Vision of Toni Morrison
8 April 2015.
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This is not a flower. Or rather: it is no longer just a flower. What we behold is a sublime anomaly, a rupture point between the natural and the artificial, between blooming and mutation.
The petals — delicate yet powerful — seem sculpted from uncertain matter: neither flesh nor silk, neither light nor shadow. They ripple with the grace of ancient breath, yet their granular texture reveals a denser memory — mineral, perhaps even mechanical. Each fold, each curve becomes a wave, a frozen echo.
But it’s the right side of the composition where the gaze falters: an improbable outgrowth, made of rigid fibers and sharp lines — a graft from another world. It could be a vegetal extension, or a technological intrusion. The living is altered — augmented — transfigured.
The black background absorbs all context. Only form and inner light remain. The object becomes an altar, and this hybrid bloom — a mutant icon — stands as a sacred relic of a future where nature and artificial intelligence have ceased to oppose one another.
A paradoxical essence: a beauty that does not seek to please, but to question. A rigorous sensuality, crossed by silent electricity. A blooming from another biological cycle — perhaps even another time.
Eagle eyed viewers will have spotted the book that keeps appearing lately in my pictures. I have written a whimsical novel which I hope to get published soon.
Picture by Transfigured Photoshoots
La Sainte-Chapelle, joyau du style gothique rayonnant, se dresse sur l’île de la Cité à Paris, presque comme un bijou serti sur la Seine. Construite au XIIIᵉ siècle sous le règne de Saint Louis (Louis IX) pour abriter les reliques de la Passion du Christ, elle se distingue par sa verticalité élancée et son éclat presque irréel.
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L’édifice se compose de deux niveaux :
La chapelle basse, sombre et plus massive, servait aux serviteurs et à la vie quotidienne du palais royal. Ses voûtes sculptées et ses colonnes robustes évoquent la solidité et la gravité.
La chapelle haute, véritable chef-d’œuvre, semble défier la pesanteur. Ici, la lumière joue un rôle central : des vitraux gigantesques occupent presque toutes les surfaces murales, peignant des récits bibliques de mille couleurs chatoyantes. Le soleil, filtrant à travers le verre, transforme l’intérieur en un espace presque mystique, où l’histoire sacrée prend vie dans un kaléidoscope lumineux. Les arcs-boutants délicats et les rayonnages finement sculptés accentuent la légèreté et l’élévation spirituelle de l’édifice.
La Sainte-Chapelle n’est pas seulement un monument religieux : elle est un poème de lumière et de pierre, un hymne à la foi et à l’art médiéval.
La Sainte-Chapelle peut être lue comme un poème architectural :
Lumière comme vers : Les vitraux deviennent les strophes du poème, où chaque couleur raconte une histoire biblique, chaque rayon de soleil est une ponctuation divine. L’intérieur semble flotter dans un espace hors du temps, comme si la lumière elle-même écrivait sur les murs.
Verticalité comme rythme : Les lignes élancées, les arcs et les colonnes font monter le regard vers le ciel. La verticalité impose une cadence, un souffle qui élève l’âme, un rythme où la pierre et la lumière dansent ensemble.
Harmonie des détails : Les sculptures, les vitraux et les ornements créent des rimes visuelles. Chaque détail, bien que minuscule, résonne avec l’ensemble, comme dans un poème où chaque mot compte et enrichit le sens global.
Transcendance et émotion : La chapelle transforme l’espace physique en espace spirituel. Le spectateur n’est plus simplement observateur : il devient lecteur d’une écriture lumineuse qui touche le cœur.
La Sainte-Chapelle est donc un poème que l’on lit avec les yeux, mais surtout avec l’âme.
Voici une version poétique inspirée de la Sainte-Chapelle :
Sainte-Chapelle, poème de lumière
Sur l’île où la Seine murmure des légendes,
Se dresse un cristal de pierre, élancé vers l’azur,
Où le soleil, en messager des cieux,
Écrit des récits en mille couleurs suspendues.
Chaque vitrail est un vers, chaque scène une strophe,
La Passion, la Gloire, la Foi transfigurée,
Et la lumière glisse sur les murs comme un souffle
Qui fait danser le temps dans l’éclat des vitraux sacrés.
Les colonnes sont des rimes qui montent et s’élancent,
Les arcs-boutants des refrains qui soutiennent le ciel,
La pierre devient plume, et le souffle de l’âme
S’élève, vibrant, au-dessus du monde terrestre.
Ici, l’œil lit, mais le cœur comprend,
La Sainte-Chapelle n’est pas bâtie, elle est chantée :
Un hymne silencieux, un poème suspendu
Entre le sol des hommes et l’infini des anges.
CES PHOTOS NE SONT PAS À VENDRE ET NE PEUVENT PAS ÊTRE REPRODUITES, MODIFIÉES, REDIFFUSÉES, EXPLOITÉES COMMERCIALEMENT OU RÉUTILISÉES DE QUELQUE MANIÈRE QUE CE SOIT.
UNIQUEMENT POUR LE PLAISIR.
YouTube channel "ALPS picture & tales"
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Night shot, long exposure, taken practically at the end of the blue hour from the lake Riffelsee (2.757 m), depicting the Matterhorn transfigured between immense waves of clouds.
Observing this, in the dark, has been as becoming part of an almost Dantesque vision.
In the foreground I've been careful to include the algae of the lake, as almost longing to reach an higher state of being toward the mountain.
I take this opportunity to quote a sentence of Master Yoda, from Star Wars Episode V, which is actually the heart of the entire esalogy: "my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere".
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©Roberto Bertero, All Rights Reserved. This image is not available for use on websites, blogs or other media without the explicit written permission of the photographer.
La Sainte-Chapelle, joyau du style gothique rayonnant, se dresse sur l’île de la Cité à Paris, presque comme un bijou serti sur la Seine. Construite au XIIIᵉ siècle sous le règne de Saint Louis (Louis IX) pour abriter les reliques de la Passion du Christ, elle se distingue par sa verticalité élancée et son éclat presque irréel.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Website : MÉMOIRE DES PIERRES
© All rights reserved ®
Website : REGARDS DU MONDE
© All rights reserved ®
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
L’édifice se compose de deux niveaux :
La chapelle basse, sombre et plus massive, servait aux serviteurs et à la vie quotidienne du palais royal. Ses voûtes sculptées et ses colonnes robustes évoquent la solidité et la gravité.
La chapelle haute, véritable chef-d’œuvre, semble défier la pesanteur. Ici, la lumière joue un rôle central : des vitraux gigantesques occupent presque toutes les surfaces murales, peignant des récits bibliques de mille couleurs chatoyantes. Le soleil, filtrant à travers le verre, transforme l’intérieur en un espace presque mystique, où l’histoire sacrée prend vie dans un kaléidoscope lumineux. Les arcs-boutants délicats et les rayonnages finement sculptés accentuent la légèreté et l’élévation spirituelle de l’édifice.
La Sainte-Chapelle n’est pas seulement un monument religieux : elle est un poème de lumière et de pierre, un hymne à la foi et à l’art médiéval.
La Sainte-Chapelle peut être lue comme un poème architectural :
Lumière comme vers : Les vitraux deviennent les strophes du poème, où chaque couleur raconte une histoire biblique, chaque rayon de soleil est une ponctuation divine. L’intérieur semble flotter dans un espace hors du temps, comme si la lumière elle-même écrivait sur les murs.
Verticalité comme rythme : Les lignes élancées, les arcs et les colonnes font monter le regard vers le ciel. La verticalité impose une cadence, un souffle qui élève l’âme, un rythme où la pierre et la lumière dansent ensemble.
Harmonie des détails : Les sculptures, les vitraux et les ornements créent des rimes visuelles. Chaque détail, bien que minuscule, résonne avec l’ensemble, comme dans un poème où chaque mot compte et enrichit le sens global.
Transcendance et émotion : La chapelle transforme l’espace physique en espace spirituel. Le spectateur n’est plus simplement observateur : il devient lecteur d’une écriture lumineuse qui touche le cœur.
La Sainte-Chapelle est donc un poème que l’on lit avec les yeux, mais surtout avec l’âme.
Voici une version poétique inspirée de la Sainte-Chapelle :
Sainte-Chapelle, poème de lumière
Sur l’île où la Seine murmure des légendes,
Se dresse un cristal de pierre, élancé vers l’azur,
Où le soleil, en messager des cieux,
Écrit des récits en mille couleurs suspendues.
Chaque vitrail est un vers, chaque scène une strophe,
La Passion, la Gloire, la Foi transfigurée,
Et la lumière glisse sur les murs comme un souffle
Qui fait danser le temps dans l’éclat des vitraux sacrés.
Les colonnes sont des rimes qui montent et s’élancent,
Les arcs-boutants des refrains qui soutiennent le ciel,
La pierre devient plume, et le souffle de l’âme
S’élève, vibrant, au-dessus du monde terrestre.
Ici, l’œil lit, mais le cœur comprend,
La Sainte-Chapelle n’est pas bâtie, elle est chantée :
Un hymne silencieux, un poème suspendu
Entre le sol des hommes et l’infini des anges.
CES PHOTOS NE SONT PAS À VENDRE ET NE PEUVENT PAS ÊTRE REPRODUITES, MODIFIÉES, REDIFFUSÉES, EXPLOITÉES COMMERCIALEMENT OU RÉUTILISÉES DE QUELQUE MANIÈRE QUE CE SOIT.
UNIQUEMENT POUR LE PLAISIR.
This image doesn’t merely show — it incises.
A flower, perhaps — but one pierced, transfigured, torn from within by a geometric outgrowth, a rigid twist that disrupts the soft language of petals. It is no longer a curve, but a fracture. No longer a pistil, but a spiral of shards, as if the core of the living had been corrupted — or enhanced — by a foreign intelligence.
Textures clash in silent tension: the smooth, fleshy softness of organic form against the angular, crystalline rigidity of an unidentified object. And yet they coexist. They even merge — as if this cybernetic graft were a natural mutation, a logical extension of a world where floral and mineral, organic and synthetic, no longer need distinction.
The lighting, dramatic and directional, deepens shadows and glorifies the fracture. The tight framing traps the gaze inside this forced cohabitation. There is no escape — only the certainty of irreversible fusion.
Blooming — but a blooming that is unfamiliar, uneasy, even painful. A beauty born from tension, from collision, from interference.
Hans Holbein the Elder (Augsburg, 1460 - Issenheim, 1524) - Altar of St. Sebastian; right wing Saint Elizabeth; Left wing Saint Barbara (1516) - Alte Pinakothek, Munich
La storia di san Sebastiano nelle arti è una tra le più lunghe e ricche, forse può essere considerato uno dei santi più rappresentati della Chiesa cattolica.
Riconoscibile a colpo d'occhio, per via dell'iconografia che lo riguarda, costituita dalle frecce che gli penetrano il corpo, questa immagine ha subito nel corso del tempo una notevole evoluzione, passando dall'originaria figura di uomo barbuto di mezza età che indossa l'armatura a quella di adolescente muscoloso con un corpo intatto seminudo ed inerme, fino a trasfigurarsi in una vera e propria icona gay diventando il "santo protettore degli omosessuali".
Nelle rappresentazioni del primo millennio lo si vede indossare la clamide militare come si conveniva alla sua professione di soldato, e sempre senza barba: un guerriero armato di scudo e spada. Durante l'epoca dell'arte gotica appare con un'armatura di maglie metalliche alla moda del tempo, ma presto anche con un ricco abito da nobile romano e di solito con la barba. Da allora in poi si è cominciato inoltre a rappresentarlo nudo al momento di essere colpito dalle frecce; soprattutto i gotici olandesi e tedeschi lo raffigurano ricoperto di ferite e col corpo magro ben evidenziato. Il primo attributo personale di riconoscimento è la corona di fiori in mano; a partire dall'alto Medioevo una freccia e un arco tra le mani.
Dal tardo XV secolo gli artisti hanno scelto sempre più spesso di presentare la figura del santo come un giovinetto denudato, ancora completamente imberbe, con le mani strettamente legate al tronco di un albero o alla cima di una colonna mentre offre del tutto indifeso il petto alle frecce del carnefice.
The history of Saint Sebastian in the arts is one of the longest and richest, perhaps it can be considered one of the most represented saints of the Catholic Church.
Recognizable at a glance, due to the iconography that concerns him, consisting of the arrows that penetrate his body, this image has undergone a considerable evolution over time, passing from the original figure of a bearded middle-aged man who wears the armor to that of a muscular teenager with an intact half-naked and defenseless body, until he transfigured into a real gay icon becoming the "patron saint of homosexuals".
In the representations of the first millennium he is seen wearing the military clamide as befits his profession as a soldier, and always without a beard: a warrior armed with a shield and sword. During the epoch of the Gothic art he appears with an armor of fashionable metal mesh of the time, but soon also with a rich Roman nobleman's dress and usually with a beard. From then on he also began to represent him naked at the moment of being hit by arrows; above all the Dutch and German Gothic represent him covered with wounds and with the lean body well highlighted. The first personal attribute of recognition is the wreath of flowers in hand; from the early Middle Ages an arrow and a bow in his hands.
Since the late fifteenth century, artists have increasingly chosen to present the figure of the saint as a naked boy, still completely beardless, with his hands closely tied to the trunk of a tree or to the top of a column while offering his chest completely defenseless. executioner's arrows.
Today is considered one of the luckiest days of my life to witness the most beautiful moment of a Monarch caterpillar burst out, slough off its skin, form up a chrysalis and enter itself into the pupa stage.
Can’t believe my own eyes to see it happens that quick (only in minutes) so all I can do is click, click, and click without time to think of how to set up the exposure correctly but for documentary purpose I think I got it.
Hope you enjoy viewing it as much as I do.
Have a great weekend.
Embrace the charm and whimsy of "The Burrow" – where the enchantment of magic meets the coziness of home! No need for staircases when you can simply teleport up in true wizarding style. Come explore every nook and cranny, with animesh magical items that bring the world to life, from self-sweeping brooms (your free gift!) to a fireplace that's more than meets the eye.
Details for the discerning sorcerer: "The Burrow" spans 15x18 in size, with a 299 LI for the structure alone, and 512 LI fully furnished with animesh wonders. For those conscious of their magical lands' capacity, a 440 LI non-animesh version ensures your spellcasting doesn't exceed your limits. Plus, a forthcoming update will enchant the fireplace for an even more immersive experience and our scripter wizard is also tinkering away to transfigure some animesh elements into less land-intensive magic.
Set up is a breeze with the included rezzer.
Discover this spellbinding full set for 5175L, a 20% saving on the components if purchased separately.
Visit us by apparition or teleport to The wizarding fair at Mermaid Beach and let "The Burrow" become your sanctuary of sorcery.
There is also a less crowded demo for you to see at the Main store
For PBR viewing, i would use the Alchemy (beta) viewer for best optimized visuals, pictures taken in Alchemy
La Sainte-Chapelle, joyau du style gothique rayonnant, se dresse sur l’île de la Cité à Paris, presque comme un bijou serti sur la Seine. Construite au XIIIᵉ siècle sous le règne de Saint Louis (Louis IX) pour abriter les reliques de la Passion du Christ, elle se distingue par sa verticalité élancée et son éclat presque irréel.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Website : MÉMOIRE DES PIERRES
© All rights reserved ®
Website : REGARDS DU MONDE
© All rights reserved ®
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
L’édifice se compose de deux niveaux :
La chapelle basse, sombre et plus massive, servait aux serviteurs et à la vie quotidienne du palais royal. Ses voûtes sculptées et ses colonnes robustes évoquent la solidité et la gravité.
La chapelle haute, véritable chef-d’œuvre, semble défier la pesanteur. Ici, la lumière joue un rôle central : des vitraux gigantesques occupent presque toutes les surfaces murales, peignant des récits bibliques de mille couleurs chatoyantes. Le soleil, filtrant à travers le verre, transforme l’intérieur en un espace presque mystique, où l’histoire sacrée prend vie dans un kaléidoscope lumineux. Les arcs-boutants délicats et les rayonnages finement sculptés accentuent la légèreté et l’élévation spirituelle de l’édifice.
La Sainte-Chapelle n’est pas seulement un monument religieux : elle est un poème de lumière et de pierre, un hymne à la foi et à l’art médiéval.
La Sainte-Chapelle peut être lue comme un poème architectural :
Lumière comme vers : Les vitraux deviennent les strophes du poème, où chaque couleur raconte une histoire biblique, chaque rayon de soleil est une ponctuation divine. L’intérieur semble flotter dans un espace hors du temps, comme si la lumière elle-même écrivait sur les murs.
Verticalité comme rythme : Les lignes élancées, les arcs et les colonnes font monter le regard vers le ciel. La verticalité impose une cadence, un souffle qui élève l’âme, un rythme où la pierre et la lumière dansent ensemble.
Harmonie des détails : Les sculptures, les vitraux et les ornements créent des rimes visuelles. Chaque détail, bien que minuscule, résonne avec l’ensemble, comme dans un poème où chaque mot compte et enrichit le sens global.
Transcendance et émotion : La chapelle transforme l’espace physique en espace spirituel. Le spectateur n’est plus simplement observateur : il devient lecteur d’une écriture lumineuse qui touche le cœur.
La Sainte-Chapelle est donc un poème que l’on lit avec les yeux, mais surtout avec l’âme.
Voici une version poétique inspirée de la Sainte-Chapelle :
Sainte-Chapelle, poème de lumière
Sur l’île où la Seine murmure des légendes,
Se dresse un cristal de pierre, élancé vers l’azur,
Où le soleil, en messager des cieux,
Écrit des récits en mille couleurs suspendues.
Chaque vitrail est un vers, chaque scène une strophe,
La Passion, la Gloire, la Foi transfigurée,
Et la lumière glisse sur les murs comme un souffle
Qui fait danser le temps dans l’éclat des vitraux sacrés.
Les colonnes sont des rimes qui montent et s’élancent,
Les arcs-boutants des refrains qui soutiennent le ciel,
La pierre devient plume, et le souffle de l’âme
S’élève, vibrant, au-dessus du monde terrestre.
Ici, l’œil lit, mais le cœur comprend,
La Sainte-Chapelle n’est pas bâtie, elle est chantée :
Un hymne silencieux, un poème suspendu
Entre le sol des hommes et l’infini des anges.
CES PHOTOS NE SONT PAS À VENDRE ET NE PEUVENT PAS ÊTRE REPRODUITES, MODIFIÉES, REDIFFUSÉES, EXPLOITÉES COMMERCIALEMENT OU RÉUTILISÉES DE QUELQUE MANIÈRE QUE CE SOIT.
UNIQUEMENT POUR LE PLAISIR.
Berlin, 6.2021 ⚽
"On croyait les Autrichiens venus faire de la figuration, ils sont transfigurés. Sindelar dépouille son jeu jusqu’à l’ascétisme et, le temps d’un match, récite son abécédaire. Autour de lui, tous sont sublimés. Concédant quatre buts, la grande équipe d’Italie de Giuseppe Meazza est vaincue, presque humiliée (2-4). Même s’il est crépusculaire, un chef-d’œuvre demeure un chef-d’œuvre. L’Autriche renaît des cendres de la guerre civile et se pose maintenant en équipe favorite de la Coupe du monde 1934. Les dirigeants italiens se réunissent dans l’inquiétude et concluent que, face au Wunderteam, ce n’est pas en jouant au football qu’ils remporteront l’épreuve."
>>> Olivier Margot…….in: L’homme qui n’est jamais mort (2020)
"Man dachte, die Österreicher seien gekommen, um eine Nebenrolle zu spielen, aber sie werden verwandelt. Sindelar reduziert sein Spiel auf das Nötigste und rezitiert für die Dauer des Matches sein Alphabetbuch. Um ihn herum sind alle sublimiert. Die großartige italienische Mannschaft von Giuseppe Meazza wurde mit vier Toren (2:4) besiegt, fast gedemütigt. Auch wenn es nur ein Vorspiel war, ein Meisterwerk ist immer noch ein Meisterwerk. Österreich steigt aus der Asche des Bürgerkriegs auf und ist nun der Favorit für die Weltmeisterschaft 1934. Die italienische Führung trifft sich in Angst und stellt fest, dass sie gegen das Wunderteam das Turnier nicht durch Fußball gewinnen wird."
"We thought the Austrians would be the underdog, but they are transfigured. Sindelar stripped down his game to the point of asceticism and, for the duration of a match, recited his repertoire. Around him, everyone is sublimated. Giuseppe Meazza's great Italian team was defeated, almost humiliated (2-4), by conceding four goals. Even if the match was no crucial game, a masterpiece remains a masterpiece. Austria rises from the ashes of the civil war and is now the favourite for the 1934 World Cup. The Italian leaders meet in anxiety and conclude that they will not win the tournament against the Wunderteam by playing football."
All this stood upon her and was the world
and stood upon her with all its fear and grace
as trees stand, growing straight up, imageless
yet wholly image, like the Ark of God,
and solemn, as if imposed upon a race.
As she endured it all: bore up under
the swift-as-flight, the fleeting, the far-gone,
the inconceivably vast, the still-to-learn,
serenely as a woman carrying water
moves with a full jug. Till in the midst of play,
transfiguring and preparing for the future,
the first white veil descended, gliding softly
over her opened face, almost opaque there,
never to be lifted off again, and somehow
giving to all her questions just one answer:
In you, who were a child once – in you.
––– Rilke
The eyes of Brunelleschi on the City: The big Lantern of Florence: Metamorphosis of a photo
I was proud to publish this my personal photographic project
This project was born thanks to my facebook photography group, called 365project; this group was born two years ago by a few photography enthusiasts with the idea of publishing a photo a day, taken by us with a weekly theme. During this time we, also, try something new to stimulate each other.
This work in particular, wants to develop the creativity of members, to stimulate, during two months, a personal creative view to express each other in full freedom.
So: I took advantage of the fact that I was moving from my old home, to our new home in the same neighborhood, not so far from the center of this wonderful city. There I discovered with great joy, that from the window of my bedroom, you can see in the distance the lantern of Brunelleschi's dome, in the center of the city. At begging my idea was to take photos of this subject in several time situations, like morning, sunset, night, cloudy, foggy, etc. But I discovered with time that was a little boring. So I try also something different.
The fulcrum of everything is the lantern which, like a protector, looks at the city from above ... until it is transfigured
This is what came of it, from the first click to last!
Gli occhi di Brunelleschi sulla Città: Il Lanternone, metamorfosi di una foto
Sono orgogliosa di presentare questo mio progetto fotografico personale
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L'idea nasce grazie ad un gruppo di appassionati in fotografia formatosi su facebook da ormai due anni, chiamato 365project. Lo scopo iniziale del 365project è quello di pubblicare una foto al giorno, scattata da noi stessi con un tema settimanale. Durante questi anni però abbiamo provato a creare qualcosa di nuovo per stimolarci a vicenda.
Questo lavoro fa parte dei nuovi input che ci vengono proposti. Questo in particolare, si proponeva di stimolare tutti noi membri nell’arco di due mesi, a creare un progetto personale per esprimersi in piena libertà.
Ho sfruttato il fatto che mi stavo trasferendo dalla mia vecchia casa, alla nostra nuova casa nello stesso quartiere, non così lontano dal centro di questa meravigliosa città. Lì ho scoperto con grande gioia, che dalla finestra della mia camera da letto, si vede in lontananza la lanterna della cupola del Brunelleschi, nel centro della città.
Al momento, la mia idea era di scattare foto di questo soggetto in diverse situazioni temporali, come mattina, tramonto, notte, nuvoloso, nebbioso, ecc. Ma dopo poco l’ho travato un po' noioso e sterile. Quindi ho provato anche qualcosa di diverso.
Fulcro di tutto è il lanternone che come un protettore, guarda la città dall’alto…fino a trasfigurarsi
Questo è ciò che ne è venuto fuori, dal primo clic all'ultimo!
music:
Old Roman chant - Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi (Part II)
youtu.be/X5xoJfXT1LU?si=Tjj5luVnwdwjuoB_
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St Mark's Basilica
Basilica di San Marco
The Patriarchal Cathedral Basilica of Saint Mark
Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco
Location: Venice, Italy
Denomination: Catholic Church
Consecrated: 8 October 1094
Titular saint: Mark the Evangelist
Designation: Cathedral (minor basilica)
1807–present
Episcopal see: Patriarchate of Venice
Prior status
Designation: Ducal chapel
c. 836–1797
Tutelage: Doge of Venice
Built: c. 829–c. 836
Rebuilt: c. 1063–1094
Styles: Byzantine, Romanesque, Gothic
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Mark%27s_Basilica
www.basilicasanmarco.it/?lang=en
.
THE ASCENSION CUPOLA
In the centre of the basilica, at the intersection with the transept, the dome celebrates the concluding mystery of the life of Jesus: his Ascension to heaven.
The decoration of the Ascension cupola, dating to the second half of the 12th century, is the mosaic masterpiece of St. Mark’s and the heart of the church’s spiritual message. It is considered to be the best mosaic expression in the whole church for structure, quality and preservation.
In the starry circle of the centre Christ, seated on a rainbow, is drawn heavenwards by four flying angels. Below, in a great concentric circle, the Virgin between two angels and the 12 apostles are gazing upwards, alternated by plants of various forms and sizes, suggesting the messianic environment of the mount of olives where Luke situates the episode of the Ascension.
Farther below, between the windows, there are sixteen female figures in a dancing sequence personifying the Virtues and Beatitudes: Hope, Faith, Justice, Fortitude, Temperance, Prudence, Humility, Gentleness, Contrition, Abstinence, Mercy, Patience, Chastity, Modesty, Constancy and Charity, this last crowned and in royal garments, “mother of all the virtues” as suggested by the inscription surrounding her.
Here we have the three theological virtues (Faith, Hope and Charity), the four moral virtues (Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and Temperance) and then another nine virtues that are an integral part, in accordance with the mediaeval concept, of the four moral virtues. If the Ascension scene has an illustrious Byzantine precedent in the cupola of St. Sophia’s in Salonika (11th century) the setting of the sixteen Virtues is absolutely Venetian.
On the spandrels the four Evangelists are writing the beginning of their Gospels: each one is schematised from the side in his study and the four symbols already seen in the presbytery cupola spandrels are lacking. The two cupolas are correlated inasmuch as in the presbytery the Evangelists merely outline salvation whereas in the Ascension cupola it is openly manifested. Each Evangelist holds his own Gospel open at the first words.
Beneath, the four biblical rivers – Gihon, Pison, Tigris, Euphrates – pour their waters on the community of the faithful, here too with clear baptismal symbology.
The Greek master who, with his assistants, created this cycle has been defined as the “agitato style” master. There could be no more suitable definition of this mosaicist who, in the creation of these scenes of the Death, Resurrection and Ascent, expresses all the dramatic tension and renewal of humanity and the universe. He manipulates the line in a myriad of curves that delineate the faces and create highly complicated folds that wind in broad spirals, spreading out into elegant fan-shaped drapery and extending in an extremely harmonious fluttering that recalls Hellenic solutions
The colours used are the most precious, all obtained by mixing the vitreous paste with lapis lazuli, copper, gold, silver or iron; and when the chromatic element and the luminosity of the enamels were not enough to render immaterial and transfigure an image, highlighting was carried out with gold, silver and whites. While the human faces of the apostles are highlighted in black, those of Christ, the Virgin and the angels have bright highlighting that gives the impression of a divine light emanating from the faces themselves.
on these chill winter nights, it is good to remember those practices through which we cultivate the warmth of the heart... such as the metta (loving-kindness) meditation.
may all beings be happy...
may all beings know joy...
may all beings be free of suffering...
for me, this meditation is about transformation... about transfiguring suffering into joy, through the alchemy of the heart...
love and best wishes,
jeanne
deep thanks to judith-la for the gift of the beautiful nicho of the virgin of guadalupe!
The Shrine of Our Lady of the Rock of Mijas ( Malaga province , Spain ) was excavated in the rock about 1548 by Mercedarian friars. However, tradition has it that the Virgin Mary appeared between the walls of the old castle in 1586 , remaining hidden during the eight centuries of Muslim rule realized on the peninsula.
After the conquest by the Crown of Castile of the last pre strongholds capital of Kingdom of Granada , legends and sacred Marian apparitions multiplied. The appearance of the Virgen de la Peña , follows the typical pattern of other appearances, such as the sacred books of the Albayzín and others.
The vision is attributed to the brothers Juan and Asunción Bernal Linaire, who being in the tasks of grazing saw in the top of the tower of the castle to a dove that was transfigured in the Virgin, being this the one that gave notice to them of its whereabouts. The finding is reported as was done before Corpus Christi .
This type of apparition and story came to represent the return to Christianity of the areas taken to the Muslims. Mijas was totally depopulated of Muslims, since they never surrendered and were turned into slaves and expelled from their houses. These visions meant the consecration to the religiosity of the winner.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Canon EOS Rebel X 35mm
Kodak Portra 160 VC (exp. 2008)
Then the sea
And heaven rolled as one and from the two
Came fresh transfigurings of freshest blue.
- from "Sea Surface Full of Clouds" by Wallace Stevens
You can see the polaroid version of this here.
ALBUM HORIZONS SANCY - ARTS NATURE - RÉTROSPECTIVE
LE MUST
2013
ELLES FIGURENT LA TRINITÉ,
PÈRE FILS SAINT-ESPRIT,
TOTALEMENT PRÉSENTS EN MARIE, AU POINT QU'ILS LA RÉSUMENT.
MARIE EST PURE ESPRIT, INCLUSE DANS LA SAINTE TRINITÉ, PUISQU'ELLE A PORTÉ LE FILS, JÉSUS.
C'EST POUR CELA QUE LES FLEURS LE FIGURANT,
SONT TRANSFIGURÉES,
LÀ, À L'HEURE DORÉE, PRIANT DANS LEUR LUMIÈRE ÉPHÉMÈRE RESPLENDISSANTE, ELLES MURMURENT SILENCIEUSEMENT CES MOTS SANCTIFIANTS :
AU NOM DU PÈRE ET DU FILS ET DU SAINT ESPRIT.
AMEN
PLUME
A forest suspended in a liminal state — a sacred glade where visibility toys with absence, where light does not illuminate, but slices through a frayed layer of reality.
The foliage glows in vibrant green, but this is no peaceful nature: it is haunted, transfigured by a near-mechanical presence. A dark geometric structure intrudes across the landscape like an ethereal virus — not destroying, but shifting everything it touches. A spectral intrusion of technology into the organic sanctum of the forest.
At the base of the gnarled tree, forget-me-nots bloom like constellations — scattered, delicate blue echoes. Are they lost memories, or blooming souls? A ghostly blue mist rises like ancestral breath, brushing the edges of the real. This is a dreamscape, or perhaps the memory of something posthuman.
This image functions like a slow enigma. The gaze descends and forgets itself. The tree does not grow — it remembers. The forest does not live — it waits. And in the center, the metal does not conquer — it listens.
En el Monte Tabor, en el norte de Israel, se encuentra la Basílica de la Transfiguración, en donde los cristianos creen que es el sitio donde la Transfiguración de Jesús tuvo lugar, un evento descrito en el Evangelio en el que Jesús se transfigura en una montaña sin nombre y habla con Moisés y Elías.
On Mount Tabor, in northern Israel, is the Basilica of the Transfiguration, where Christians believe it is the site where the Transfiguration of Jesus took place, an event described in the Gospel in which Jesus is transfigured into a mountain without a name and talks with Moses and Elijah.
Jacopo del Sellaio (Jacopo di Arcangelo - Florence, about 1441 - Florence, 1493) - Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian (1465-73) 122.5 x 81.6 cm. - Alte Pinakothek, Munich
La storia di san Sebastiano nelle arti è una tra le più lunghe e ricche, forse può essere considerato uno dei santi più rappresentati della Chiesa cattolica.
Riconoscibile a colpo d'occhio, per via dell'iconografia che lo riguarda, costituita dalle frecce che gli penetrano il corpo, questa immagine ha subito nel corso del tempo una notevole evoluzione, passando dall'originaria figura di uomo barbuto di mezza età che indossa l'armatura a quella di adolescente muscoloso con un corpo intatto seminudo ed inerme, fino a trasfigurarsi in una vera e propria icona gay diventando il "santo protettore degli omosessuali".
Nelle rappresentazioni del primo millennio lo si vede indossare la clamide militare come si conveniva alla sua professione di soldato, e sempre senza barba: un guerriero armato di scudo e spada. Durante l'epoca dell'arte gotica appare con un'armatura di maglie metalliche alla moda del tempo, ma presto anche con un ricco abito da nobile romano e di solito con la barba. Da allora in poi si è cominciato inoltre a rappresentarlo nudo al momento di essere colpito dalle frecce; soprattutto i gotici olandesi e tedeschi lo raffigurano ricoperto di ferite e col corpo magro ben evidenziato. Il primo attributo personale di riconoscimento è la corona di fiori in mano; a partire dall'alto Medioevo una freccia e un arco tra le mani.
Dal tardo XV secolo gli artisti hanno scelto sempre più spesso di presentare la figura del santo come un giovinetto denudato, ancora completamente imberbe, con le mani strettamente legate al tronco di un albero o alla cima di una colonna mentre offre del tutto indifeso il petto alle frecce del carnefice.
The history of Saint Sebastian in the arts is one of the longest and richest, perhaps it can be considered one of the most represented saints of the Catholic Church.
Recognizable at a glance, due to the iconography that concerns him, consisting of the arrows that penetrate his body, this image has undergone a considerable evolution over time, passing from the original figure of a bearded middle-aged man who wears the armor to that of a muscular teenager with an intact half-naked and defenseless body, until he transfigured into a real gay icon becoming the "patron saint of homosexuals".
In the representations of the first millennium he is seen wearing the military clamide as befits his profession as a soldier, and always without a beard: a warrior armed with a shield and sword. During the epoch of the Gothic art he appears with an armor of fashionable metal mesh of the time, but soon also with a rich Roman nobleman's dress and usually with a beard. From then on he also began to represent him naked at the moment of being hit by arrows; above all the Dutch and German Gothic represent him covered with wounds and with the lean body well highlighted. The first personal attribute of recognition is the wreath of flowers in hand; from the early Middle Ages an arrow and a bow in his hands.
Since the late fifteenth century, artists have increasingly chosen to present the figure of the saint as a naked boy, still completely beardless, with his hands closely tied to the trunk of a tree or to the top of a column while offering his chest completely defenseless. executioner's arrows.
Let us go then
Where we have never had to go before
Straight down into the heart of the horror
Of half-deserted, blasted, bloody streets
With the earth shuddering beneath our feet
We watch the memory of the lights that have vanished
From these Twin Towers of man's belief
In humanity and world peace, fade...
Seeing as we've never seen before
Our transfigured anger redeeming our sight
The diffuse visualization of justice
Blossoming from that anger seeking the light
Our hearts of darkness breaking
From the sound of rolling thunder
Asking the eternal question
“What is wrong?” “What is right?”
Those who were living are now dead
We who are living are now dying
Moment by moment
With little patience for mercy or regret
Wondering, is the very air we live by safe
This is the end of innocence
The time for saving grace.
©2001, Michael Hillmer
"VIDEO KILLED THE RADO STAR?"
Well, just about, I'm a tad knackered at the moment!
G’day, I’ve been a wee bit quiet for the past few weeks as I reviewed movies at this year’s 2007 Melbourne (Australia) International Film Festival. I broadcast the reviews over about two and a half hours all up on my show, Zero-G: Science Fiction, Fantasy & Historical Radio, on 3RRR FM. (rrr.org.au)
The above picture is the sign on the Erwin Rado Theatre at 211 Johnson Street, Fitzroy, where the MIFF has its headquarters. The building's nothing much to look at from outside, really! But the sign...well, THAT has character!
Below the MIFF offices, the theatre, named after the director of the Film Festival from 1957 - 1983, has a charming old 69 seat cinema that can screen 16mm and 35mm film as well as DVD, LaserDisc, VHS, Data and MiniDV.
The MIFF’s access to the theatre expired at the end of 2007 and, ideally, it really should have its own dedicated screening facility, as other major city’s film festivals have. Still, the office itself has now moved to a more central location in Melbourne, which is handy!
To find out more about the MIFF go here:
www.melbournefilmfestival.com.au/
Anyway, I thought I’d post some of reviews here, inspired by films that I particularly enjoyed at this year’s event.
The full transcripts can be found at:
-AACHI & SSIPAK-
SOUTH KOREA
This continuously violent South Korean animated adult feature presents a future where human excrement is an energy source. Citizens have a monitoring chip attached to their arses and particularly productive individuals are rewarded with addictive drug laced munchies called Juicy Bars.
I shit you not.
The story begins with a roadwarrior highway battle as the swarming blue mutant Diaper Gang (!) attempts to truckjack a cargo of Juicy Bars, only to encounter a devastatingly lethal cyborg enforcer who makes Judge Dredd look like a human rights campaigner.
Headshot bodies fall at a rate that would impress Aeon Flux and Samurai Jack combined as the repressive government, assorted roving bands of bandits and con men, including the title characters Aachi and Ssipak (pronounced ‘she-pock’) along with a feisty would-be actress, all compete for the Juicy Bars.
Given the outrageous level of mayhem and the giggling concept that lies at the, er, bottom of the plot, it’s hardly worth noting that the animators cheerfully raid pop culture for many sequences, including the films Aliens and Indiana Jones & The Temple Of Doom. The latter is extensively overmined for one tunnel chase set up.
The animation is quite stylistically vigorous while the off the wall social commentary reminds me a little of the kind of thing that animator Ralph Bakshi attempted in his Fritz The Cat days, well before the likes of South Park and its shock-anime kin. There’s also something to be said for the biting political satire that runs through the narrative, which results in the government and gang leader being merely two opposite sides of the same ruthless coin.
People with kids could have pointless fun banning them from seeing this film, but apparently MTV’s thinking of doing a telly series based on it anyway, so, futile or what?
Subtle it isn’t, but it is a species of wicked fun that will gather bums on seats!
Director Joe Bum-jin
2006/90mins
-A FEW DAYS IN SEPTEMBER-
ITALY/FRANCE/PORTUGAL
The first film directed by screenwriter Santiago Amigorena, A Few Days In September
(Quelques Jours en Septembre), is a laid back but quite charming French spy thriller that makes espionage a family affair...and a realistically bickering family at that.
Elliot, mostly alluded to or played as an off screen voiceover by Nick Nolte until near the film’s conclusion, is an ex-CIA agent with knowledge about the upcoming 911 attacks. He hopes to trade the information for a stake that will enable him to reunite and live with his biological daughter and step-son, legacies of two seperate cover identity marriages in France and the U.S.
Much sought after by various factions, Elliot entrusts his grown up children, Orlando (Sara Forestier) and David (British actor Tom Riley) to the capable care of Irène, a cool, experienced French secret agent who used to be Elliot’s colleague. The potentially overwhelming meta-story takes a back seat to the character relationships, which makes a nice change to the usual breathless adventures that would normally puff up this kind of story into a by-the-numbers action thriller.
Juliette Binoche brings marvelous, stylish depth to her role as world wise spy Irène, providing a wryly sophisticated setting for her charges’ inevitable romance. (What IS it with the French anyway? After Irène’s arm is injured she turns up wearing a chic scarf as a sling, but of course!) Always gorgeous, the actress pitches the character as being adept enough at her deadly trade so that she can afford to enjoy herself while she works. Forestier is all sharp edged, angry eyed angst as she works through father/daughter issues while Riley nervously cooks (his character worked in a restaurant) for the two formidable women who have abruptly complicated his life with their Amazonian expertise with firearms. I also very much enjoyed the arch Franco/American banter between Orlando and David.
Seeking Elliot through the medium of his children is William Pound, a whacko ‘wet work’ assassin who has a penchant for poetry, drives a florist’s delivery van and has a mobile phone plagued by the world’s most annoying ringtone. Pound’s character is tightly wound by John Turturro, who played one of the convicts in O Brother, Where Art Thou? and also an equally obsessive relative of the title character in the television series Monk.
A Few Days In September benefits from first rate cinematography, including some playful soft focus shots that whimsically render Venice and Paris, cheekily explained by Irène’s habit of removing her glasses to ‘see things differently’. There’s also a cracking good shot through the dark framed doorway of a Venetian Chapel which reminded me of a signature frame from a John Ford Western, only instead of Mesas and sagebrush we get the Venice Lagoon and a passing ocean liner.
Although this film lingers perhaps a little too lovingly on the wrangling entanglements of its main characters I still found it pleasant and rewardable viewing. Amigorena certainly knows how to inject off-beat life into his characters.
Director/Screenwriter Santiago Amigorena
2006/115 mins
-BUG-
USA
When down on her luck small town waitress Agnes White (played by Ashley Judd) invites eccentric drifter Peter Evans into her seedy motel room she receives much more than she bug-aned for!
Director William Friedkin (The Exorcist, & The French Connection) gets almost unbearably psychological in this cross genre movie that wisely adds no excess fat to the one set, pressure cooker Tracy Lett’s play that it’s adapted from. As the two main characters’ relationship slowly emerges from a far too tightly spun chrysalis the film builds to one of the most intensely wound paranoic conclusions seen on screen.
Michael Shannon is gauntly convincing as Evans, a role that he pioneered in the original stage play and intially at least, reminds me a little of a young Steve McQueen or perhaps, Joachim Phoenix. Harry Connick Junior has a supporting part in the film as Agne’s ex-convict, ex-husband.
Bug’s maddeningly paced escalating tension is supported by an appropriately chittering score, composed by Brian Tyler, who also gave us soundtracks for the films Constantine, Bubba Ho-Tep, the Children of Dune miniseries, as well as episodes of Star Trek: Enterprise and the upcoming Aliens Versus Predator 2: Survival Of The Fittest. Speaking of Star Trek, Ashley Judd also played Ensign Robin Lefler in Star Trek: Next Generation.
Bug is a film that creeps up on you and by its final scuttling rush will definitely get under your skin...one way or another.
Director- William Friedkin
Screenwriter-Tracy Letts
2006/101mins
-EL TOPO-
(MEXICO)
El Topo (“The Mole”) was director Alejandro Jodorowsky's third film. The infamous Mexican allergorically surreal Eastern/Western is presented at the festival in a very fine new restoration (a bit of a shock for those used to seeing it in its customary raddled grindhouse/cult prints!) along with its natural companion piece, The Holy Mountain.
This comprehensively startling but compelling film begins, not unlike the Lone Wolf And Cub Samurai series, with the black clad, flute playing gunslinger El Topo (played by the director himself) riding across the wastelands in company with a taciturn child companion. After a blood drenched encounter with drunkenly bestial bandits El Topo replaces the boy with a seductively manipulative woman who urges him to become the greatest shootist in the world by seeking out and defeating four master gunfighters.
As with the wuxia martial arts films that this story frequently references the quest for the masters proves dangerous, difficult, baffling and wonderous.
The gunslinger’s odyssey to achieve enlightment and mastery is populated with exotic encounters and inventive, symbolically charged imagery. Deflating balloons signal the start of duels, capering outlaws with shoe fetishes rape feminised sand paintings and carve bananas with sabres, civilised townsfolk prove more depraved and debauched than the wasteland bandits, herds of rabbits mysteriously die at El Topo’s feet, incestuously deformed trogalytes living in oil drums tunnel to escape their underground prison, and live bullets are caught and deflected by butterfly nets.
This visual melange is supported by Jodorowskys and Nacho Méndezs evocative music which, by turns soothing or jarring, echoes across the many desert based sequences and permeates the locations, which frequently read more like artistic installations than sets grounded in any kind of mundane reality. In fact, there is a timeless anachronistic feel to the desert that makes you question whether this is nominally a period Western or indeed set in some kind of post-apocalyptic Stephen King future.
El Topo is rendered even stranger by its renowned mid-film gear change, one of several enigmatic transformations that can be interpreted as Buddhist inspired reincarnations of the title character.
Just imagine what might have been if Jodorowsky had pulled off his mid-70s adaptation of Frank Herbert's Dune, with its intended cast of Salvidor Dali as the Emperor, Mick Jagger playing Feyd Rautha and Orson Welles as Baron Harkonnen? As it is the Acid Western tradition at least got another outing in Jim Jarmusch's more recent film, Dead Man, which, for all its many remarkable charms, by comparison to El Topo is cast into monochrome shade.
A bizarre chimera even by Zero-G's notoriously unhinged standards El Topo is a cult classic given gloriously grotesque new life by its own recent transfiguring restoration.
Director/Screenwriter Alejandro Jodorowsky
1971/125mins
-FIDO-
Canada/USA
Fido fiendishly expands upon the gag featured in Shaun of the Dead (amongst other films) that zombies could be domesticated to perform simple tasks. Zombies helping in the kitchen? Uh-oh, better make sure they keep those rotting fingers are kept hygenically away from food preparation surfaces with a pair of crisp, clean white cotton gloves....
In an alternate 1950s the all encompassing ZomCom, which apparently helped win the Zombie War, protects and serves the walled small towns of America. Now, we all know that the only reason to provide zombies with clever electronic control collars is so that the gadgets can malfunction; cue zombie outbreak! It’s the slyly subversive juxtaposition of wholesome mom and apple-pie Leave It To Beaver sitcom with Zombie killing procedural that lends this consistently bemusing film a wicked Addams Family style where Pop naturally reads Death Magazine and scenes shot in cars are filmed using good old fashioned rear screen projection.
Not that we’re talking Black and White telly, nosirree Bob! Fido is filmed in full, glorious technicolour, complete with ginormous finned automobiles, two toned shoes and compliant Stepford housewives who wait at the front door for their patriarchal hubbies to take the martini from their submissive, manicured hands. Happily, Carrie Anne-Moss in one of the main roles, as Helen Robinson, is more of a buddingly feisty Desperate Housewife after the armed and dangerous example of Bree Hodge. (From The Matrix to a zombie packed Pleasantville is indeed an ironic career path!) It’s not long before Helen kicks over the domestic traces following the example of her young son, Timmy (knowingly played by the intriguingly named K’Sun Ray) and his new pet zombie, the Fido of the title, embodied by Billy Connolly. Connolly plays the long suffering Fido with toothy glee, moaning and groaning and lurching in the throes of what could easily double as a hangover of fatally heroic proportions.
Keep an eye out (easy to do in a zombie film) for Dylan Baker, as the nervously cheerful Bill Robinson. Baker has had the sleeper part of Doctor Curt Connors in the Spider-Man films and, as comic book fans anticipate, should eventually get to mutate into the super-villain, The Lizard.
Fido is my genre pic of the Festival, in the tradition of another year’s shambling B-schlock spoof, The Lost Skeleton Of Cadavra. I ask you, how can I not enjoy sinking my teeth into a film where a pet zombie is addressed with a line like: “What’s that Fido? Timmy’s in trouble?”
It’s enough to make Lassie dig her way out of her grave!
Director- Andrew Currie
Screenwriters- Robert Chomiak, Andrew Currie, Dennis Heaton
2006/91mins
-HANSEL & GRETEL-
GERMANY
If you go down to the woods today.....you’d better take your copy of the Brothers Grimm Cookbook For Baking Independent Elderly Female Cannibal Sorceresses.
German director Anne Wild and screenwriter Peter Schwindt settle for a straightforward retelling of the classic rural ‘stranger danger’ story wherein the devious Gretel proves the most resourceful of two deliberately lost children who end up on the menu of the obligatory member of the local Guild of Almagamated Wicked Witches & Confectioners.
Deliberately lost? How do you think the kids got to be wandering around in Blair Witchburg in the first place? Sometimes tactfully omitted from modern retellings of this familiar story is the neglected element of child abandonment, a practice forced upon starving families in situations of plague, famine, wars and other social upheavals. In this case, it’s the pragmatic step-mother who pushes her more sentimental but nontheless compliant woodcutter husband into cutting loose the kids.
In early versions of the story it’s usually just the natural mother who suggests jettisoning the offspring...a much more useful cautionary tale for parents to use as and Awful Threat when disciplining naughty anklebiters.
Leaving aside observations about how Hansel and Gretel underlines the historical distrust of skilled single women of independent means this is actually a moderately creepily staged film. The woods are suitably threatening, and the witch herself, though certainly not up to Buffy The Vampire Slayer standards is a reasonably nasty albeit dimwitted piece of work...
I never can figure out quite why witchy poo needed to go Hannibal Lector on kiddies when she was capable of whipping up enough food to fatten a small army, not to mention all that square footage of gingerbread real estate. Let’s just assume it’s an alternative lifestyle choice, along the lines of supergenius Wile. E. Coyote yearning after Roadrunner drumsticks in spite of the fact that he had enough credit to order truckloads of expensive gadgets from the ACME Corporation.
(On the subject of ghoulish folks developing a fondness for ‘long pig’ just what DID those darling children do with the oven fired witch after they fried her arse?)
We all know how this ends, after making off with the witch’s portable property the kids, in a remarkable act of forgiveness, share their taxfree windfall with their deadbeat dad...though their step mother has obligingly dropped dead in the meanwhile.
Hmm, did anyone actually see step-mama and Ms Witch in the same room at the same time?
Don’t expect a Post-Modern fractured fairytale from Hansel and Gretel and you won’t be led astray by what’s essentially a traditionally told, moderately unsettling film.
Director- Anne Wild
Screenwriter- Peter Schwindt
2006/76mins
-THE HOLY MOUNTAIN-
MEXICO
If you thought Alejandro Jodorowsky’s third film, El Topo, was weird...well, no caca Sherlock!
Wait until you get a load of this....
His next surreally allegorical outing, 1973’s The Holy Mountain, scales even more whackily experimental heights. Like El Topo, The Holy Mountain has also been recently, lovingly restored, all the better to trip out on the eye bulging psychedelic imagery!
Again, as with El Topo, the nominal protagonist is on a messianic quest to achieve enlightment. Even more ironically symbolic in this case since the central thief character bears a strong and exploitable resemblance to the traditional representation of Jesus Christ.
Horácio Salinas plays the hapless thief, leaving Jodorowsky himself the catalytic role of a tower dwelling alchemist who charges him to accompany seven influential but materialistic powerbrokers to Lotus Island where they will achieve eternal life once they have climbed the eponymous Holy Mountain.
Initially the dialogue is thin on the ground but soon ramps up to cheerfully inexplicable levels where a line like “hypersexed brown native vampires” can pass without comment or indeed comprehension. Politics, art, sexuality, and filmmaking, amongst many other subjects, all cop a satirical hiding in this extraordinary film which relies heavily upon fantasy imagery drawn from tarot cards, astrology and religion.
Just listing a few of the oddball ideas gives you an idea of the unique scope of Jorodowsky’s fevered imagination.
Two women are ‘cleansed’ of clothing, make-up, jewellery, false nails, and hair by a black robed priest who himself has ebony varnished fingernails. A screaming man lies covered in tarantulas...no big acting stretch there! The Invasion of Mexico is renacted by lizards dressed in Mezoamerican costumes battling frogs wearing Conquistador armour and missionary robes. (I have my doubts about this sequence, it sure looks like the poor frogs are really being blown up by explosives?) A mulitple amputee writes cryptic messages in the dirt with a severed animal leg. Parading prostitutes turn out to be just as holy as priests. Roman soldiers cast the thief in plaster and create a line of life-sized crucifiction merchandise. Art factory paint coated nude backsides stamp out images on a production line while live body painted nudes are built into installations so they can be fondled by gallery patrons. Gas masked soldiers attend dances and machine guns and hand grenades are painted in rainbow colours. Spartan like warriors pursue a cunning plan to emasculate 1000 heroes to create a shrine of 1000 testicles....and nevermind what they did with the other 1000! Eviscerated victims spill chicken guts....and I mean they literally pull chickens from their wounds’ while Liederhosen wearing Teutonics trip on drugs and strongmen are able to turn intangible and teleport through entire mountains.
Distantly reminiscent of Fellini’s Satyricon, and to some extent Roma, The Holy Mountain also boasts the most startling Orgasmatron machine since the erotic cult film Barbarella, in the form of a Giant mechanical vagina that’s manipulated like a theramin.... well, if a theramin was played by a giant dildo!
Is it any surprise, really, in the wake of the cult success of El Topo, that The Holy Mountain’s producer Allen Klein also managed The Beatles and that those fans of all things psychedelic, John Lennon and Yoko Ono helped fund the movie?
Landmark or landfill experimental film? The Holy Mountain remains an obvious precursor to movies like Eraserhead, The Cremaster Cycle, and The Qatsi Trilogy.
Climb it at your own peril. (You know you want to!)
Director/Screenwriter Alejandro Jodorowsky
1973/114mins
-lLS-
France
Clementine (Olivia Bonamy) and Lucas (Michael Cohen) live happily in pastoral rural isolation in a rundown chalet in the Romanian woods, until one night they are attacked by....THEM! No, not by lurching giant ants from a 1950s horror film but by...well, that would be telling. Some horror films take their time building suspense but Moreau and Palud’s shiversome first feature nails you straight to the wall and keeps you hanging there for the economical just-over-an-hour’s running time. And I do mean ‘running’.
The adept direction and unrelating pace set within the atmospheric confines of the old chalet (a dream of a location to create nightmares in) is ramped up by genuinely unnerving sound effects design, an evocatively tense soundtrack, solid if necessarilly Spartan performances by the two leads, and the teasing revelation of the nature of the besiegers.
There’s nothing particularly new about the ingredients stirred into this terrifying mix. In fact, you could, after the credits have rolled and the lights come up again, sit back and tick off the horror cliches one by one, starting with the usually tiresome pronouncement, “Based On A True Story”. Commentators seem uncertain about the veracity of that, but in this case it adds to the overall feel of unease that permeates the ending of this film. I found myself thinking, “Y’know, I can see how that could actually happen....brrrr!”
Ils...it took me a while to realise that the title is merely the French word for “Them”... is one of the most disturbing horror films I’ve seen in some time, and all without buckets of blood or lashings of sickly inventive torture porn. With its efficient minimalist approach it’s very close in tone to the best of the New Wave of Japanese horror that burst upon the West several years ago now.
Directors/ Screenwriters- David Moreau and Xavier Palud
2006/70 mins
-ISLAND OF LOST SOULS-
DENMARK
A big budget supernatural fantasy for young adults that's part Spielberg, part Lucas, with an added dash of Harry Potter, but which ultimately wears its ample CGI well to create an enjoyable and in a few places reasonably scary film.
When two children move to a quiet country town the last thing they expect to find is a haunted island plagued by a supernatural confluence of kidnapped souls. When a young girl taps into the mystic mayhem it results in her brother being possessed by the spirit of a centuries dead member of an ancient order of sorcerous crimefighters.
The film's young actors are capable and ‘self possessed’ in the face of some quite formidable magical opposition, including a new and nasty take on that familiar player from Central Horror Casting, the living Scarecrow, along with a necromancer who could be brother to both Nosferatu and the Star Wars Emperor, right down to the cadaverous features and handy ability to cast Sith lightning from his fingies! I especialy liked the offbeat character of the trainspotting psychic investigator who inevitably comes to the kid’s aid in their hour of dire peril.
A fun little romp that’s no longer than it should be at an economical 100 minutes.
Director- Nikolaj Arcel
Screenwriter- Ramsus Heisterberg
2007/100mins
Sessions
Sun, 12th of August, 1:00 PM
ACMI
-KHADAK-
Belgium/Germany/The Netherlands
Bagi, played by Batzul Khayankhyarvaa, is a young nomad, who, along with his family are wrenched from their nomadic existence by the Mongolian government who want to consolidate people in towns, villages and cities as the fledgling democracy gears up to enter the 21st century’s global economy. After rescuing Zolzaya (Tsetsegee Byamba), a beautiful female coal thief, Bagi boldly goes where nomad has gone before on a shamanistic quest that culminates in fantastical revelations about Mongolia’s future relation with the environment.
Khadak is underpinned by a hypnotically compelling narrative fascination with magic realism that often contrasts the shabby reality of the concrete high rises with the colourfully organic traditional nomadic traditional yurt dwellings.
The film overflows with powerful imagery, including a simple but effective camera roll that causes an iconistic prayer-scarf draped tree to turn upside down as the land itself is inverted by mineral exploitation and pollution. A deserted town, in reality an abandoned former Soviet barracks, stands in for one potential future. Tractors, used to haul the disassembled yurts, are started and allowed to run aimlessly free across the steppes as the government agents burn the nomads’ links to their former lifestyle behind them.
Khadak doesn’t always offer too nostalgic a view of the nomadic struggle; many of the former rural folk cheerfully adapt to their new circumstances and some seem to pragmatically thrive, especially Bagi’s mother, who ends up running heavy machinery at the coal mine where immense draglines swing with saurian grace across the screen.
The film’s reverberating score resonates across the wind blown, echoing steppes, giving way to some moments of pure musical bliss, especially when some of the newly urbanised young people get together for astonishing ‘jam’ sessions.
Both lyrical and hard edged Khadak is a film, like Martin Scorsese’s Kundan, whose exotic sights and sounds will be welcome guests in my yurt for as long as they choose to stay.
Directors/Screenwriters- Peter Brosens, Jessica Hope Woodworth
2006/105mins
-LAST WINTER, THE-
USA/Iceland
It’s damn cold in Northern Alaska but not cold enough, as tough but soft centered Ron Perlman’s advance oil drilling preparation crew discover when they set out to re-open an isolated test drilling site that may be viable in the face of looming energy shortages. The arctic circle tundra is thawing rapidly, unleashing the kind of environmental horror movie that used to be in vogue back in the 1970s and which is all too timely now as global warming makes its presence felt in the real world.
Perlman, as usual, is excellent, giving the kind of inflected performance that graced Hellboy, Cronos, City Of Lost Children and his impressive work in the television fantasy series Beauty & The Beast. The ensemble players are also deftly sketched in, often in a low key fashion that adds realism.
Director Larry Fessenden successfully follows up and even references in one brief bit of dialogue, Wendigo, one of his earlier, not entirely disimilar horror outings. As with some other genre films in this year’s festival the horror elements are timeless; from the simmering sexual and tensions and hostility between the boffins and the bluecollars to the classic scenario of the besieged ice station. The latter is a character in itself, in the ‘Thingy’ tradition of both Howard Hawks and John Carpenter’s seperate adaptations of John W. Campbell’s seminal very Cold War science fiction novella, Who Goes There? Best possible use is made of this stunning location, as the screen often becomes an overwhelmingly vast white or dark canvas to trap and diminish the hapless blue collar workers.
Crystal clear sound design helps ‘sell’ the visuals and the impressive CGI special effects are first rate, without ever detracting from the practical drama of the sheer dangers of living and working in such an extreme environment.
The Last Winter is a cunningly ambiguous chiller that cleverly maintains a plausible alternative explanation for the film’s lethal events up to and possibly including the final admirably restrained frame which begs teasingly to be opened out into a wider shot but leaves the audience wanting more, leaving room for a possible but unecessary sequel.
Oil be back!
Director- Larry Fessenden
Screenwriters- Larry Fessenden, Robert Leaver
2006/107mins
-MEN AT WORK-
IRAN
A carload of Iranian buddies on their way down the mountains from a skiing holiday stop for a toilet break at a precipitous roadside layover and discover a monolithic rock
that just HAS to be tumbled down the slopes.
If you’re a bloke, you automatically know how it is.
If you’re a woman, equally, you KNOW how we are!
An amusing exploration of male bonding and stubborness this happily crazy film is guaranteed to contain no sociopolitical allegory whatsoever (really!) and the Iranian writer/director has asked that the U.S please refrain from invading his leg of the Axis of Evil until he has finished his next project.
Director/Screenwriter- Mani Haghighi
2006/75mins
-SEVERANCE-
UK
When completely politically incorrect arms merchant Palisade Defence rewards its crack Euro Sales division with a team-building weeked in the woods of Eastern Europe the mismatched but archtypal bickering office workers soon find that they’re not quite the ‘gun’ group that they thought they were.
Yes, the comparison of choice is The Office meets Deliverance and that’s fair enough because what makes this movie so gormlessly funny is the inept Brits Abroad schtick combined with an equally knowing, wickedly timed take on the horror slasher genre that puts most inept Hollywood fun with fear spoofs to more shame than ever. The only time this film ever really fumbles is when it takes the horror too seriously, which is not all that frequently, though more noticably and perhaps inevitably, in the apocalyptic last reel.
Oddly, Severence’s particularly grungy baddies who get to fold, spindle and mutilate our heroic twonks remind me very much of the “Stalkers” from the recent popular video game, which itself references the Tarkovsky film and the less well known science fiction novel that classic is itself based on, Boris and Arkady Strugatsky’s Roadside Picnic.
The heavyweight British ensemble cast is a real corker here, and one of the most enjoyable in the festival films I’ve seen this year, including at least one former Bond villain (Toby Stephens who was Gustav Graves in Die Another Day) and the always wetly amusing Tim McInnerny who plays to his well known Blackadder type (He was both Lord Percy and Captain Darling) as the incompetent boss of the Palisade’s party.
I won’t be the last reviewer to note that Eastern Europe has become destination of choice for horror filmmakers of late. Attracted by threatening woodlands, abandoned buildings and low cost production facilities the exotic locales also perhaps wallow in a degree of smug and possibly premature Western superiority in the wake of the economic collapse of former Eastern Bloc foes. For the moment, these once hard to access countries are providing filmmakers with a place to set their stories ‘beyond the glow of the streetlights’. Again, as with other festival genre films, Severence does benefit from a marvelously decrepit Old Dark house of a location.
Severence is laced with joyfully understated sight gags, dialogue to listen for, and a good deal of well meaning irony regarding corporate responsibility. The icing on the cake is a musical score that fiddles with both ominous gypsy curses, pop tunes and even riffs off We’ll Meet Again as featured in Stanley Kubrick’s Dr Strangelove, to which black comedy there’s more than one reference.
Severance gives awful new meaning to the term, “You’e fired!”
Director- Christopher Smith
Screenwriters- James Moran, Christopher Smith
2006/90mins
-STILL LIFE-
HONG KONG/CHINA
An intimate but involving look at the disapora of displaced persons produced by China's Three Gorges Dam mega-engineering project as seen through the eyes of two people.
In the first part of the film coal miner Han Sanming (played by Sanming Han) returns after 16 years absence to his former home town of Fengjie, only to find its 2000 years of history submerged beneath the waters of the dam. Taking a temporary job in demolition, he searches for news of his ex wife, whom he hasn’t seen for 16 years.
Still Life never wanders far from the dominating horizontal visuals of the mighty Yangtze River and the monolithic concrete and steel dam. The apocalyptic rubble of the yet-to-be flooded part of the town forms another powerful metaphor, a full stop to the flow of linear time represented by the River, which itself has been given pause by the immense project.
It’s a hard life for Han, though undoubtedly far less dangerous than the notoriously hazardous Chinese coal mining industry, and it provides some extraordinary imagery.
Men in supposedly protective suits with sanitising back pack sprayers wander through gutted homes. Friends are made amongst workmates to the jaunty ringtones of their mobile phones as they exchange numbers...a socialising ritual that later prompts one of the film’s most poignant moments when a mobile ‘s unanswered ringing signals a tragic accident. Condemned buildings collapse with tired grace in the distant background as they receive explosive coup de grâces.
The second half of the film segues into another quest for closure, as Nurse Shen Hong (Tao Zhao) journeys to the town looking for her own estranged husband.
Again, the dam is another defining presence in the story, providing a backdrop for the final resolution of Shen Hong’s search.
One baffling scene (and I’d welcome any light that anyone can shed on this!) sees Shen staring at a large monument in the distance. It appears to be a Chinese alphabetical character, rendered in concrete. As she turns away, rocket motors ignite at its base and the whole giant structure lifts off into the skies. I assume this is some kind of reference to the recent successes of the Chinese manned space programme but am not sure as to why it’s relevant to the story? Unless it’s just a bit of triumphalism? Or indeed, because Shen does ignore the startling sight, perhaps it’s meant to be ironic? Enquiring minds need to know!
Actually, the overall philosophical conclusion drawn at the end of Still Life does read a little bit like some kind of inspirational tract to me....but that may just reflect my own bias, or again it could be ironic, and I won’t spoil the ending by going further into detail. (Well, cross cultural puzzles have always attracted me to World Cinema!)
Still Life is a beautifully visualised, thoughtful film with a measured pace that aptly reflects the larger elements that form the canvas that its smaller, but no less important, human dramas are played out against.
Director/Screenwriter- Jia Zhang-ke
2006/108mins
-THE WAR TAPES-
USA
Rather than be 'embedded' in a U.S military unit in Iraq filmmaker Deborah Scranton chose to give cameras to three National Guardsmen to record their own experiences deployed with Charlie Company, 3rd of the 172nd New Hampshire Mountain Infantry. Scranton provided additional remote directorial aid via text messaging and email to the three soldiers, Sgts. Stephen Pink and Zack Bazzi, and Specialist Michael Moriarty, whose stories were chosen from an overall pool of 1000 hours of footage.
The soldiers’ personal and professional accounts are sobering and revelatory and never less than enlightening.
Though it does this remarkably cohesive documentary something of a disservice to cherry pick material out of its sturdily engineered overall context it’s necessary to give some idea of the range of material included in the film.
We see several ambush eye views of the destructive force of roadside Improvised Explosive Devices which, though initiated and responded to with varying degrees of control by both combatant forces, usually result in chaos and confusion, death and destruction, for bystanders. One soldier matter-of-factly tours a vast graveyard of combat lossed vehicles, shattered and gutted by I.E.Ds, casting in an increasingly ironic light President Bush’s triumphantly naive 2003 announcement that “Major combat operations in Iraq have ended...”
The complexity of night operations are mirrored in the silvered eyed stare of soldiers seen through the eerie but tactically invaluable lenses of night vision equipment , rendering one formation of troops strikingly like a formation of stolid Terracotta Warriors. The detached professionalism of the soldiers understandably falters when a night time convoy kills a woman who was then struck repeatedly by each truck in turn.
The irony of soldiers and hired civilians (drivers and security guards) risking and losing their lives to protect re-supply cargos of, for example, cheese for hamburgers, is not lost on the troopers who wonder loudly if the complex and highly profitable logistical tail is wagging the policy dog? In fact, they’re refreshingly unguarded in their speculations about what they see, from their perspective as boots on the ground, as the reasons behind the ongoing war. Their observations are pithy, and to the point...or, rather, multiple points, as the individual opinions cover the entire spectrum of current controversy, from oil driven conspiracy to patriotic war on terror.
Soldiers will always enthusiastically relish the opportunity to grouse about their lot, reserving special venom for the shortcomings of their equipment, training, rations and orders. One complaint amongst many was that these soldiers received little or no cultural instruction to help prepare them for operating in the Iraq theatre, which ommission makes it hard to both know the enemy or understand your friends. Even a simple misunderstanding over a commonly used hand gesture for ‘Stop’ can, in the local environment, be fatally mistaken for ‘Hello!”
The fact that the Iraq conflict is, in reality, fought amongst peoples homes rather than some spiffily titled combat theatre, warzone or neutrally termed area of operations is thoughtfully underlined by frequent segues to the soldiers’ American homes, either when the troops have returned or during their absence. Surface impressions notwithstanding there doesn’t seem to be a great deal of difference between U.S and Iraqi civilians; folks, it seems, are alike all over. Stateside sequences touch upon the complicated effects that the deployment had on civilian family members, the problems of post traumatic stress disorder suffered by the veterans, and the more obvious physical injuries. For example, one of the soldiers has carpal tunnel syndrome in his hands, the result of vibration transmitted through the grips of his vehicle mounted machine gun on patrol. He also has to cope with back pain from wearing body armour in a confined space.
Crammed with ‘real time’ feedback from ongoing conflict The War Tapes makes a provocative companion piece with the 2005 documentary Gunner Palace. For balance I would also add to the recommended viewing list: Control Room (2004), Baghdad ER (2006), and My Country, My Country (2006)
Director- Deborah Scranton
2006/97mins
-WELCOME TO NOLLYWOOD-
USA/NIGERIA
Never heard of the Nigerian film industry? This inspiringly cheeky doco will rectify that and should be seen by all budding filmmakers seeking new ways to practice their art.
Something like 2400 movies per year are produced in Nigeria, making it the third most prolific film industry in the world. Film? Well, that’s a nostalgically generic term to describe the Nigerians’ enthusiastic bypassing of conventional film stock and its complex and expensive infrastructure in favour of digital video distributed directly and cheaply at local marketplaces on DVD or VCD.
The 300 or so Nigerian directors have an already rich tradition of oral storytelling to draw upon, and have embraced multiple genres usually lensing them through an action adventure filter, which has fostered a support industry of movie fight Action Camps where actors can learn the stunt fight business. Although one director claims “We don’t do science fiction” Nollywood nevertheless loves fantasy, especially religious based melodramas with plenty of demons and angels, sorcererors and witches.
Period films set in Nigeria often have a luridly portrayed but understandably anti-slavery element, which alongside with the witchcraft angle concerns some commentators who argue that focusing on these aspects promotes stereotypes.
A visit to the set of a film grounded in the recent Liberian war shows the Nigerian director, who at least partly funded the movie himself, putting his actors through boot camps to learn how to fill out their soldierly roles, including veteran advisors from both sides of the original conflict. The actors go through production hell but ironically are brought low by a botched contract with the caterers...
Nollywood; not entirely different from Hollywood!
Director- Jamie Meltzer
2007/58mins
-U-
FRANCE
A lyrical French animated feature with fluidly drawn artwork and an equally languid, but elegant plot as a Princess Mona is faced with choosing between new love and a beloved friend, who happens to be a unicorn. The charming, anthropomorphic animal cast could have been drawn by Dr Seuss, and the story is a souffle of flirtatious love with a playful musical topping.
Directors- Grégoire Solotareff, Serge Elissalde
Screenwriter- Grégoire Solotareff
2006/71mins
Beneath the gentle shadow of a hand laid across the face like a silken veil, a visage blooms within the twilight. The eye peering through parted fingers catches the light with the tenderness of a forgotten dream, wavering between confession and concealment. There is a fragile duality in this gesture—the wish to hide from the world and yet to gaze upon it, half-anxious, half-conspiratorial.
The skin, textured by shadows and highlights, becomes a secret landscape, where childhood lingers beneath the traces of time. The slightly parted lips hint at the whisper of a smile, the promise of a word held back, a secret being sown. Here, the hand becomes a threshold, a curtain, a bridge—it filters reality, transfigures it, softens it, makes it almost ungraspable.
The gaze, half-revealed, seems to play hide and seek with clarity. It is a portrait of intimacy, a celebration of mingled shyness and boldness, as if light itself hesitated to unveil everything. To contemplate mystery, to listen to what remains unsaid, to caress what lingers half-naked in the shadow of the hand.
PELERINAGE DU 15 AOÛT 2018
Etape ORCIVAL
Pour accompagner la Fête de ce Jour 22 Août
SAINTE MARIE REINE
Fête de mémoire, instituée par le Pape PIE XII en 1954
qui rappelle que Marie Elle aussi, participe au titre tout spécial de la Royauté du Christ.
Ainsi transfigurée, suprêmement, elle participe de la Rédemption en parfaite plénitude.
Elle nous aide à porter ici-bas et par là, nos propres fruits royaux par nos oeuvres de miséricorde bonnes, nos prières, notre dévotion à sa condition, notre vie sainte et pieuse, sincère, simple remplie d'amour et de joie.
Les hommes d'Eglise l'ont couronnée ici-bas, tangiblement, en rappel de la Royauté acquise par ses mérites lors de sa vie terrestre.
Marie a été couronnée au Ciel par son propre Fils , lui même Roi de la Royauté céleste et terrestre et que l'Ecriture nous signifie clairement : Il est Celui "dont le Règne n'aura pas de fin".
ORCIVAL l'a bien compris et ne manque pas de couronner Marie en mémoire royale, aux jours de sollennité liturgique.
Je n'avais encore jamais assisté à ce geste hautement symbolique.
C'était une première. Beau cadeau et signe pour mon anniversaire.
Saluons à genoux NOTRE REINE et Mère, Maman, afin qu'Elle nous envoie faire des oeuvres fécondes et hautes autour de nous.
A ORCIVAL, tout spécialement, les innombrables faits de Marie sont particulièrement marquants et de différents types : bienfaits, guérisons, délivrance, grâces, conversions, rendu d'un membre manquant, pardon, et même un mort revenu à la vie !!!
Tout cela est consigné dans "le livre des miracles d'Orcival".
Ave Maria.
Exposure: 0.1 sec (1 / 10) - Aperture: f/5.6 - Focal Length: 55 mm - ISO 200 - No tripod - 05:53 AM -
The agricultural worker (buoy the Cold Brazil) won by days worked during the week and currently receive $ 35.00 reais (equivalent to $ 17dólares) per work day and receive their money every Saturday when they arrive crop! They are the workers who were kicked out of the fields, will be a mass of temporary workers (flywheel) residing in urban peripheries. Migrate from one region to another farm, following the production cycle of different cultures. Are farmers in various fields but do not have their own lands. Can be considered rural proletarians, reproducing the alienating conditions of capitalist production in the field.
History: The association of the agricultural sector to industrial and guided by policies and measures aimed at increasing production and attentive to the needs of domestic and foreign markets, from the 60's, the employee has left the rural heritage of social and political exclusion transfigured in agricultural modernization. Thus, the state, not to hinder the growth of the economy, implement actions that result in the development of capitalist relations in the field.
Features: - The day laborers are conducted without security, usually in the back of trucks, vans or pickup trucks from home to the plantations. The locations vary with the seasons and harvest times.
The name comes from the fact that these workers bring with them their own meals (slang, float) in containers without insulation since leaving home early in the morning, which means they are already cold at lunchtime.
In recent years, there have been several complaints and cases of migrant farm workers caught in the exploitation of slave labor or semi-slave, which makes this class a constant theme in the struggle for human rights.
And they live in low-paid jobs, constantly moving from job to have money to survive.
The buoys Cold arose mainly by wage labor on farms. They were small landowners who earned very little from what they produced, and when large landowners began to offer payment, and not part of production, these small farmers sold their land and were working in plantations, mainly sugar cane.
They usually work only in times of sowing and harvesting.
FROM: pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boia-fria
O trabalhador rural (boia-fria brasileiro) ganha pelos dias trabalhados durante a semana e atualmente recebem R$35,00 reais, (equivalente a $17dólares), por dia de trabalho e recebem seu dinheiro todos os sábados logo que chegam das lavouras! Eles são os trabalhadores que, expulsos dos campos, vão constituir uma massa de trabalhadores temporários (volantes) residindo nas periferias urbanas. Migram de uma região agrícola para outra, acompanhando o ciclo produtivo das diversas culturas. São agricultores em diversas lavouras mas não possuem suas próprias terras. Podem ser considerados proletários rurais, reproduzindo as condições alienantes de produção capitalista no campo.
História: A associação do setor agropecuário ao industrial, orientado por medidas e políticas com vistas a um aumento da produção e atento às necessidades do mercado interno e externo, a partir da década de 60, legou ao trabalhador rural a herança da exclusão social e política, transfigurada em modernização agrícola. Dessa forma, o Estado, para não obstaculizar o crescimento da economia, implementa ações que resultam no desenvolvimento de relações capitalistas no campo.
Características:- Os bóias-frias são conduzidos sem segurança, geralmente nas carrocerias de caminhões, peruas ou camionetes de casa até as plantações. Os locais variam de acordo com as épocas do ano e as épocas de colheita.
O nome advém do fato de estes trabalhadores levarem consigo suas próprias refeições (na gíria, bóia) em recipientes sem isolamento térmico desde que saem de casa, de manhã cedo, o que faz com que elas já estejam frias na hora do almoço.
Em anos recentes, houve diversas denúncias e casos de bóias-frias flagrados sob exploração de trabalho escravo ou semi-escravo, o que faz desta classe um tema constante na luta por direitos humanos.
E vivem de trabalhos mal remunerados, mudando constantemente de trabalho para que tenham dinheiro para sobreviver.
Os bóias-fria surgiram principalmente pelo trabalho assalariado nas propriedades rurais. Eles eram pequenos proprietários de terras que ganhavam muito pouco com o que produziam, e quando os grandes proprietários de terras passaram a oferecer pagamento, e não parte da produção, esses pequenos proprietários venderam suas terras e foram trabalhar nas lavouras, principalmente de cana.
Normalmente eles trabalham apenas em tempos de semeadura e colheita.
... in the upper half of the painting; Jesus is transfigured as a voice from Heaven proclaim Him to be the “Son".
In the Gospels, Jesus and the Apostles Peter, James, and John are on a mountain when Jesus, flanked by the Prophets Moses and Elijah is bathed in a radiance of bright light and "transfigured".
Below the three Apostles who had accompanied Jesus witness the scene.
Room VIII, Pinacoteca, Vatican Museums; July 2019