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Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
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A big glut of J3 photos coming your way! This was my design for a new city library and affordable homes. Now open! First batch is mostly of the Library and the great concave screen focussed on the Greek Orthodox Church on the opposite side of the road.
November 15, 2014
Yet another x-ray radiograph of my pathological self, two years overdue. It was irrelevant then, because I got over it, until 45 days ago, when I was unknowingly struck by new-found gimpiness.
Two years ago, which happened to be 16 months post-ACL reconstruction in my left knee, I got an x-ray on my left foot/ankle. I had been getting back to running since five months post-op, and along the way, over-zealously experienced a bunch of over-use injuries (medial tibial stress syndrome, right tibialis posterior strain, various ankle injuries*). All of that seemed tolerable, and with a little help, I overcame it. One thing, however, continually bothered me through early-2013 (and still on occasion): my left arch always seemed to ache when I ran too much. Its excruciating reoccurrence bothered me to the degree that I eventually saw my orthopedic surgeon about it, and alas, this is what he observed: I have an accessory navicular, depicted on the left; it is an extra bone in my left foot...and it's kinda hefty.
97.5% of the human population have a navicular bone, and that's it. The other 2.5% are inherently disparate and have this stupid extra bone adjacent to the navicular called the "accessory navicular." What's the big deal? Well, a major calf tendon, the posterior tibial tendon, connecting to one's tibialis posterior muscle, runs down the medial part of one's tibia. From there, it descends along the posterior-medial part of your ankle (inner ankle, between your achilles tendon and medial malleous ankle bone), and then turns at your heel and threads through the tuberosity of the navicular before crossing the bottom of your foot toward your third and fourth metatarsals. The posterior tibial tendon supports your arch, and facilitates ankle inversion and plantar flexion.
In the case of the 2.5% population, this accessory navicular never fuses completely with the navicular during development. Typically, having this extra bone in one's foot is an non-issue, until it is an issue. In a situation of say, an ankle sprain, trauma to the accessory navicular can disrupt the fibrous tissue that immobilizes it to one's navicular. As a result, it moves, it irritates, it inflames, and throws off the natural equilibrium of one's foot biomechanics, wreaking havoc on the posterior tibial tendon. The consequences? Impaired foot and ankle strength, arch or ankle pain, and if not addressed, eventual collapse of the arch, bone misalignment in the foot, foot deformation, reduced joint flexibility, and ultimately a pretty f*cked up and dysfunctional foot/ankle.
Anyway, based on these x-rays, I guess I broke my left ankle sometime in early 2012 (image on the right). It looks like an avulsion fracture to my medial malleolus, which is typically consequence of some major ankle sprain**. This in turn probably precipitated the posterior tibial tendon dysfunction exacerbated by my having an accessory navicular. At the time, my doctor wrote me a prescription for orthotics, which may still be clipped somewhere under a bunch of recipes on my fridge. I went on with life, rested, strengthened my glutes, quad, and calf muscles, did ankle inversion/eversion exercises, walked extensively, and have since run hundreds of miles, hiked numerous peaks; somehow, everything worked out...until now I guess.
At this moment, after maybe 45 days of denial, I find myself inexplicably gimped out*** with no end in sight. It's bizarre, and obnoxious. Through August, I was averaged ten miles a day hiking for a week, ran 25 miles a week, and biked a bunch. On August 31st, I biked 65 miles, which was otherwise unremarkable except where eight miles from my destination, I jumped off my bike to avoid a collision and instantaneously experienced a brief but painful left calf cramp. In the days that followed, I experienced medial ankle and heel pain, which I dismissed, except that now it has been 45 days, and it hasn't resolved. For the most part, the pain was tolerable or non-existent, but arises and is exacerbated after increased activity, persists for days before subsiding, and is now apparent upon palpation. Ugh.
Diagnosis: I've been diagnosed with posterior tibial tendonitis, a condition where the tendon is irritated and inflamed. It was predicted to have been precipitated upon unstable landing when I jumped off my bike, and then further provoked by biking that night and through the last 45 days using my forefoot, which continually stresses the inflamed tendon due to repeated plantar flexion. I guess having the accessory navicular doesn't help my situation, predisposing me to pathologies of the posterior tibial tendon. The heel pain is thought to be referred pain, as it arises and subsides with the posterior tibial tendon pain; I don't know, there's something funky going on in there.
And so the solution? It seems there is a pattern to the rehabilitation of every injury and it's nothing new: (a) rest; (b) strengthening of supporting muscles; (c) gradual return to activity. Resting seems harder to comply with than one would imagine—I can't seem to sit still, and running is really all I feel like doing right now. Anyway, so what are these supporting muscles in need of strengthening? The glutes. My non-existent ass. Some quad and calf strengthening, but mostly gluteal muscles, i.e., THE BUNS OF STEEL INITIATIVE. It's seemingly similar to post-ACL reconstruction rehab, with less focus on quadriceps, a muscle group that is grossly inhibited upon joint effusion. Instead, the Buns of Steel Initiative, as the name suggests, homes in on gluteus medius activation and strengthening. This is the muscle involved in hip abduction, extension, and internal/external rotation, and is crucial for stabilizing one's legs and reducing internal rotation. Weakness can lead to irritation of the iliotibial band while running, contribute to patellofemoral pain, and predispose one to ACL tears, ankle sprains, etc. Probably best to read up on the topic yourself rather than take my word for it--I'm too lazy and am harvesting everything from the depths of my hippocampus, circa 2011.
I wonder, will I run (unimpaired) again by Christmas****?
*Rupture of the ACL results in irreversible loss of neuro-muscular signaling from the joint to the brain, compromising one's awareness of the whereabouts of one's joint relative to the rest of oneself. Among many other things, this gives rise to deficits in proprioception, or balance, potentially making one susceptible to all kinds of other injuries...in my case, probably ankle injuries. Alas, all is not lost--exercises focusing on proprioception can partially remedy this deficiency.
**Other than this radiograph, I have no recollection of any potentially mitigating events that could have precipitated this. Could it have been an overuse injury? Can one run 10 miles on a broken ankle? Because I ran extensively that spring. Who knows.
***I use this term loosely, inappropriately, and with much hyperbole. I can walk, run, and probably do a lot of other things, but not without provoking some low-level persistent pain, and then incorrigibly debilitating myself. So, in an effort to avoid the fate of an ankle arthroplasty, I've ceased to run, and thus find myself in a a perpetually pathological state of purgatory.
****I meant to write "Thanksgiving," but I think that's too much wishful thinking.
Photo: Löwenemblem am Palazzo Pitti, Florenz, Italien
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Treuer Wächter Israel'
1.) Treuer Wächter Israel',
Des sich freuet meine Seel,
Der du weißt um alles Leid
Deiner armen Christenheit.
O du Wächter, der du nicht
Schläfst noch schlummerst, zu uns richt
Dein hilfreiches Angesicht.
2.) Schau, wie große Not und Qual
Trifft dein Volk jetzt überall.
Täglich wird der Trübsal mehr.
Hilf, ach, hilf, schütz deine Ehr (a).
Wir verderben, wir vergehn,
Nichts wir sonst vor Augen sehn,
Wo du nicht bei uns wirst stehn.
3.) Hoherpriester, Jesus Christ,
Der du eingegangen bist
In den heilgen Ort zu Gott,
Durch dein Kreuz und bittern Tod
Uns versöhnt mit deinem Blut,
Ausgelöscht der Höllen Glut,
Wiederbracht das höchste Gut.
4.) Sitzest in des Vaters Reich
Ihm an Macht und Ehren gleich,
Unser Mittler, Gnadenthron,
Gottes allerliebster Sohn,
Den er in dem Herzen trägt,
Dessen Fürbitt ihn bewegt,
Dass er keine Bitt' abschlägt.
5.) Kläglich schreien wir zu dir,
Klopfen an die Gnadentür.
Wir, die du mit höchstem Ruhm
Dir erkauft zum Eigentum.
Deines Vaters Zorn abwend,
Der wie lauter Feuer brennt
Und schier alle Welt durchrennt.
6.) Zeig ihm deine Wunden rot,
Deine Striemen, Kreuz und Tod.
Und was du mehr hast getan,
Zeig ihm unsertwegen an.
Sage, dass du unsre Schuld
Hast bezahlet in Geduld
Und erlanget Gnad und Huld.
7.) Jesu, der du Jesus heißt,
als ein Jesus Hilfe leist!
Hilf mit deiner starken Hand,
Menschenhilf hat sich gewandt.
Eine Mauer um uns bau,
Dass dem Feinde davor grau',
Und mit Zittern sie anschau.
8.) Liebster Schatz, Immanuel!
Du beschützest meine Seel'.
Gott mit uns in aller Not,
Um uns und auch in uns Gott.
Gott für uns zu aller Zeit.
Trotz dem, der uns tut ein Leid,
Gottes Straf' ist ihm bereit't.
9.) Deines Vaters starker Arm,
Komm und unser dich erbarm.
Lass jetzt sehen deine Macht,
Drauf wir hoffen Tag und Nacht.
Aller Feinde Rotten trenn,
Dass dich alle Welt erkenn,
Aller Herren Herren nenn.
10.) Andre trauen ihrer Kraft,
Ihrem Glück und Ritterschaft,
Deine Christen seh'n auf dich,
Trauen dir sich festiglich.
Lass sie werden nicht zu Schand,
Bleib ihr Helfer und Beistand,
Sind sie dir doch ganz bekannt.
11.) Gürte dein Schwert an die Seit',
Als ein Held, und für uns streit
Und zerschmettre deine Feind,
So viel hier auf Erden seind.
Auf die Hälse tritt du ihn'n,
Leg sie dir zum Schemel hin
Und brich ihren stolzen Sinn.
12.) Du bist ja der Held und Mann,
Der den Kriegen steuern kann,
Der da Spieß und Schwert zerbricht,
Der die Bogen macht zunicht,
Der die Wagen gar verbrennt
Und der Menschen Herzen wend't,
Dass der Krieg gewinnt ein End.
13.) Jesu, wahrer Friedefürst,
Der du Schlangen hast zerknirscht,
Ihren Kopf durch deinen Tod
Frieden wiederbracht mit Gott:
Gib uns Frieden gnädiglich!
Dass hier dein Volk freue sich,
Und dir danke ewiglich.
(a) im Evangelischen Gesangbuch (EG) steht hier 'Lehr'
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Text: Johann Gottfried Heermann
Melodie: Wunderbarer Gnadenthron
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gefunden in:
Gefunden im Mecklenburgischen Kirchen-Gesangbuch
Schwerin, 1780
Liednummer 451 - Kapitel Lieder in besondern Nöten
gedruckt bei Johann Carl Ebert
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Die Strophen 3-6, 8 und 11 fehlen im aktuellen
Evangelischen Gesangbuch (EG), 1995, Lied 248.
Die Strophe 13 ist stark umgedichtet
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Johann(es Gottfried) Heermann (* 11. Oktober 1585 in Raudten bei Lüben in Schlesien; †17. Februar 1647 in Lissa) zählt zu den bedeutendsten deutschen Kirchenliederdichtern der Barockzeit.
Als Sohn eines Kürschners aufgewachsen, studierte Heermann nach Schulabschluss in Straßburg Theologie und wurde 1608 in Brieg zum 'poeta laureatus' gekrönt. Ab 1611 hatte er das Pfarramt in Köben bei Glogau inne. Stadtbrand, Pest, Kriegsplünderungen, Familienleid und Gegenreformation in Schlesien prägten diese Zeit, so dass er schon 1638 sein Köbener Amt aufgeben musste und sich nach Lissa zurückzog.
Als Liederdichter ist er von Martin Opitz und dessen Dichtungsreform beeinflusst. Sein Werk wirkt prägend für Andreas Gryphius, Paul Gerhardt und andere. Er dichtete etwa 400 Lieder. Heermann wurde als 'Sänger der Trübsal und des Kampfes, doch auch des ungebrochenen Glaubensmuts' beschrieben.
Erste Veröffentlichungen finden sich in 'Devota musica cordis', Hauß- und Hertz-Musica (1630 u. ö.; neu hrsg. von Ph. Wackernagel, Stuttg. 1856); Choräle wie 'O Gott, du frommer Gott', 'Herzliebster Jesu, was hast du verbrochen' und 'O Jesu Christe, wahres Licht' sind in die evangelischen wie auch katholischen Gesangbücher übergegangen und noch heute im Gebrauch.
Außerdem erschienen von ihm asketische Schriften, z. B. 'Heptalogus Christi' (Berlin 1856) und die Lehrdichtungen 'Praecepta moralia et sententiae' und 'Exercitium pietatis' (in lateinisch u. deutsch, Breslau 1886) sowie die Gedichtsammlung 'Teutsche Poemata' (1640).
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Johann Heermann (11 October 1585 - 17 February 1647), German poet and hymn-writer. He is commemorated in the Calendar of Saints of the Lutheran Church on 26 October with Philipp Nicolai and Paul Gerhardt.
Heermann started out writing Latin poetry, with his Flores ex Otfridi Evangeliorum vireto being published in 1609. The poems contained in this collection are Latin poems based on passages from the Gospels, yet for each Latin poem, one or two lines of German poetry were added, showing that Heermann had an early desire to write poetry in German too. Later works also belonged to the tradition of versifying passages from the Gospels, such as Andächtiger Kirchenseuftzer (1616), Exercitium pietatis (1630) - a revised version of Flores – Verbessertes Schliessglöcklein (1632) – a revised version of the Kirchenseuftzer - and Sontags- und Festevangelia (1636). Impetus for this process of revision came from Martin Opitz’s Buch von der deutschen Poeterey (1624), which acted both as a defence of German poetry and a set of guidelines on how German poetry should be composed. Johann Heermann can be regarded as one of the first German poets to write according to the rules set out in Opitz’s tract.
As well as poetry based on the Gospels, Heermann also wrote poetry influenced by works of devotional literature, especially those by Valerius Herberger, Martin Moller and Johann Arndt. These works were often themselves influenced by earlier, pre-Reformation texts by the Church Fathers, especially Bernard of Clairvaux, Augustine and Anselm of Canterbury. Heermann’s most influential work of devotional poetry was Devoti musica cordis (1630), ‘music for a devout heart’, which combined hymns based on texts of the Church Fathers and writers such as Moller with hymns Heermann himself had composed. In addition to works of poetry, he also published collections of sermons.
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Der Palazzo Pitti ist ein Renaissance-Palast in Florenz. Das Filippo Brunelleschi zugeschriebene Gebäude wurde um 1440 für den Kaufmann Luca Pitti erbaut.
Auffällig ist die konsequente Verwendung grob behauener Steinquader (Bossenwerk) als einziger Fassadenschmuck in allen drei, einander sehr ähnlichen Stockwerken, die dem Gebäude einen festungsartigen Charakter verleihen.
Nachdem die Pittis an der Teilnahme der Verschwörung der Pazzis überführt wurden, blieb der Bau für fast hundert Jahre unvollendet. Erst nachdem er 1549 an Eleonora von Toledo, der Gattin Cosimo I. de’ Medici, verkauft worden war, begann man mit Um- und Erweiterungsbauten und der Anlage des Boboli-Gartens. Das florentinische Sparrendach wurde durch ein niedrigeres, hinter Balustraden verborgenes ersetzt. Bartolomeo Ammanati fügte 1568 in die zugemauerten Bogenportale des Erdgeschosses Renaissancefenster ein. Er war auch verantwortlich für die Gartenfassade, die Gestaltung des Hofs und für Teile der Gartenanlagen. Das Hauptgebäude, das ursprünglich dreistöckig mit sieben Fensterachsen angelegt war, wurde zwischen 1620 und 1631 auf eine Breite von 13 Fensterachsen vergrößert und mit zwei zweistöckigen Seitenflügeln mit je fünf Achsen ergänzt, die Brunelleschis und Ammanatis Fassadengestaltung nahtlos weiterführen. Als letztes folgten 1764 einstöckige seitliche Anbauten mit Arkaden, die den Vorplatz einrahmen.
Im Jahre 1565 baute Giorgio Vasari einen langen Korridor über den Ponte Vecchio der den Palazzo Pitti über die Kirche Santa Felicita, den Ponte Vecchio und die Uffizien mit dem Palazzo Vecchio auf der anderen Seite des Arno verbindet. So konnten die Palastbewohner vom gemeinen Volke unbehelligt zwischen Wohnsitz und Rathaus hin- und herpendeln.
Photo: Adler-Skulptur auf dem Nordfriedhof in Wiesbaden
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Noch ist der heiße Kampf nicht ausgekämpft
1.) Noch ist der heiße Kampf nicht ausgekämpft,
Noch ist die Glut der Sünde nicht gedämpft,
Noch raset in den Gliedern die Empörung,
Noch tobet stürmisch der Versuchung Flut,
Noch fasst mich wirbelnd ihre Mörderwut,
Und drohet mir mit ewiger Zerstörung.
2.) Noch knirscht das Fleisch in des Gesetzes Zaum,
Und bräche gern sich unbeschränkten Raum,
Um reiche Todesfrucht hervorzubringen.
Oft reißt der Strom mich an den Abgrund hin,
Des Todes Zauber fesselt jeden Sinn,
Und alle Kraft zum Schreien oder Ringen.
3.) Doch, wenn auch zwiefach die Versuchung glüht:
Es lebt nun das Gesetz mir im Gemüt.
Ich diene Jesu, frei von Tod und Sünde.
Es schmeichle mir die Lust, sie drohe mir.
Durch Jesu Heil reiß ich mich los von ihr. -
Was ist, das diesem Heiland widerstünde?
4.) Wenn über mir das Meer zusammenschlug,
Wenn fast ertrunken mich der Wirbel trug,
So war sein Wort, was mächtig mich erweckte.
Ich tauchte wacker auf, und schaute ihn,
Und ließ von seiner treuen Hand mich ziehn,
Da schwieg der Sturm, der erst so sehr mich schreckte.
5.) Oft darf ich lang in Streitesgluten stehn,
Oft weithin über mächtge Wogen gehn,
Mit Kraft gerüstet, ohne alles Grauen.
Oft führet mich der Geist auf heitre Höhn,
Um mich ist alles freundlich, klar und schön,
Das Arge lässt sich nun von ferne schauen.
6.) Des Heilands Treu hab ich genug erprobt,
Um, wenn der Kämpfe härtster mich umtobt,
An Rettung und an Sieg nicht zu verzagen.
Des Abgrunds Macht hat niemals mich versenkt,
Der Wogen Wut hat niemals mich ertränkt,
Mit neuem Heil kam ich aus allen Plagen.
7.) In meines Wesens tiefstem Grunde webt
Sein Geist, der mich mit Kraft des Heils belebt,
Und mich in Gottes sichern Harnisch kleidet.
Mein Heiland, der so teuer mich erkauft,
Hat also mich in seinen Tod getauft,
Dass nichts mehr mich von seinem Leben scheidet.
8.) So führ ich munter fort den heilgen Krieg,
Durch Jesu Geist gelingt mir Sieg auf Sieg.
Ich kreuzige das Fleisch und seine Lüste,
Ich bringe alle Feindschaft wider Gott,
Durch seines Geistes Leben in den Tod.
Ach, dass ich diesen Tod vollendet wüsste!
9.) Zwar wünscht ich bald vollendet meinen Streit:
Doch, dort ist ja der Siegespreis bereit,
Und sein nicht wert ist auch das härtste Ringen.
Ja, droben ruhet sichs im Lichte gut.
Dort lohnt sichs herrlich, sollt das letzte Blut
Ich noch so spät dem Herrn zum Opfer bringen.
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Autor: Johann Jakob Banga
Melodie: ohne Angaben
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Christoterpe
Ein Taschenbuch für christliche Leser
auf das Jahr 1835
Herausgegeben mit mehreren Andern
von Albert Knapp
Verlag C.F. Osiander
Tübingen
Thema: Glaube, Kampf und Rechtfertigung
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Johann Jakob Banga (*1798 in Straßburg/Elsass, + 1834), war ein reformierter Theologe und Schriftsteller, der mit dem Hymnologen Albert Knapp (1798-1864) bekannt war und diesen zur Herausgabe seines Jahresperiodikums 'Christoterpe' ermuntert hatte. Banga verstarb während eines Kuraufenthalts. Er hatte bis dahin zwei theologische Werke und zwei Gedichtssammlungen herausgegeben, die 1828 bzw. 1831 erschienen waren. Auf ihn macht Eduard Emil Koch in seiner Geschichte des Kirchenlieds und Kirchengesang, Band 7, Stuttgart, 1872 aufmerksam. Knapp nahm in seine Liedsammlungen geistliche Lieder von Banga auf.
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Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Wie eine Sonn' in Glut,
So flammt das Herz in Liebe,
Und wie ein Meer in Flut,
So wogen Sehnsuchtstriebe.
Wohl hängen Wolken schwer
Hoch ob der Liebeswonne:
Doch bleibt sie tief wie das Meer
Und ewig wie die Sonne.
Helene Branco
Nachstehend die Sicht von Mikis Theodorakis über die Vorgänge in Griechenland, seeehr lesenswert: de.mikis-theodorakis.net/index.php/article/articleview/56...
a glut is only a glut if you cant actually eat them all.
So technically we havent quite got to glut yet.
When we do I am going to freeze courgettes after cooking them on the pan and also make a soup for freezing which is rich in courgettes.
Shonen Knife - Fruits and Vegetables
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
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RECETA TIRAMISU
Ingredientes:
Esto para empapar los bizcochos:
Bizcochos tipo soletilla sin gluten,para los no celiacos, bizcochos soletilla .
Licor (ron,wisqui,de café , de naranja) el licor que mas os guste,pero solo de uno jejeje.
1 vaso de café fuerte, espesito.
Para la crema:
5 huevos.
½ k. De queso Mascarpone.
100 gr. de azúcar.
Como se hace:
Separamos las claras de la yemas, batimos las claras con la mitad del azúcar hasta que estén montadas,a punto de nieve (merengue).Un truco para que el merengue no se baje es añadir una pizca de sal antes de empezar a batir.
Batimos las yemas con el resto del azúcar hasta espesar, que quede esponjoso, a esta mezcla le vamos añadiendo el mascarpones poco a poco batiendo y que quede una masa fina sin grumos, entonces añadimos el merengue y mezclamos con cuidado para que el merengue no se baje y reservamos.
Ponemos el licor al fuego , esto es si van a comer niños,por que asà le quitamos el alcohol, cuando este caliente le prendemos fuego y lo dejamos que arda unos 30 segundos, aproximadamente,
lo mezclamos con el café y vamos empapando los bizcochos , hacemos una base con ellos y ponemos una capa de la crema otra capa de bizcochos y otra de crema , espolvoreamos con chocolate en polvo, preferiblemente sin azúcar y del negro, ponemos en la nevera y cuando este
frÃo :que os aproveche.
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010