[Image: display window of "mini-prints" taken with the Fujifilm Instax camera (originally from the Photojojo store). See note at bottom of post for more.]
From whiskey river:
You know what I believe? I remember in college I was taking this math class, this really great math class taught by this tiny old woman. She was talking about fast Fourier transforms and she stopped midsentence and said, “Sometimes it seems the universe wants to be noticed.”
That’s what I believe. I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is improbably biased toward consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it — or my observation of it — is temporary?
(John Green [source])
…and (italicized portion):
In the Storm
Some black ducks
were shrugged up
on the shore.
It was snowinghard, from the east,
and the sea
was in disorder.
Then some sanderlings,five inches long
with beaks like wire,
flew in,
snowflakes on their backs,and settled
in a row
behind the ducks—
whose backs were alsocovered with snow—
so close
they were all but touching,
they were all but underthe roof of the ducks’ tails,
so the wind, pretty much,
blew over them.
They stayed that way, motionless,for maybe an hour,
then the sanderlings,
each a handful of feathers,
shifted, and were blown awayout over the water,
which was still raging.
But, somehow,
they came backand again the ducks,
like a feathered hedge,
let them
stoop there, and live.If someone you didn’t know
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?Belief isn’t always easy.
But this much I have learned,
if not enough else—
to live with my eyes open.I know what everyone wants
is a miracle.
This wasn’t a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness—as now and again
some rare person has suggested—
is a miracle.
As surely it is.
(Mary Oliver [source])
Not from whiskey river:
Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied.
(Pearl S. Buck [source])
…and:
False Flowers
(for Caroline Ireland)
They were to have been a love gift,
but when she slit the paper funnel,
they both saw they were fake; false flowers
he’d picked in haste from the store’s display,
handmade coloured stuff, stiff as crinoline.Instantly she thought of women’s hands
cutting in grimy light by a sweatshop window;
rough plank tables strewn with cut-out
flower heads: lily, iris, primula, scentless
chrysanthemums, pistils rigged on wire
in crowns of sponge-tipped stamens,
sepals and petals perfect, perfectly
immune to menaces from the garden.Why so wrong, so… flattening? Why not instead
symbols of unchanging love?
Yet pretty enough,
she considered, arranging them in a vase
with dry grass and last summer’s hydrangeas
whose deadness was still (how to put it?)
alive, or maybe the other side of life.
Two sides, really, of the same thing?She laughed a little, such ideas were embarrassing
even when kept to oneself,
but her train of thought
carried her in its private tunnel through supper,
and at bedtime, brushing her teeth,
she happened to look up at the moon.
Its sunlit face was turned, as always, in her direction.
The full moon, she couldn’t help thinking,
though we see only half of it.It was an insight she decided she could
share with him, but when he joined her
and together they lay in the dark,
there seemed no reason to say anything.
The words, in any case, would be wrong,
would escape or disfigure her meaning.
Good was the syllable she murmured to him,
fading into sleep. And just for a split second,
teetering on the verge of it, she believed
everything that had to be was understood.
(Anne Stevenson [source])
…and:
Graham Chapman, coauthor of the parrot sketch, Graham Chapman, co-author of the “Parrot Sketch,” is no more.
He has ceased to be, bereft of life, he rests in peace, he has kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the Great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky, and I guess that we’re all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, such capability and kindness, of such intelligence should now be so suddenly spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he’d achieved many of the things of which he was capable, and before he’d had enough fun.
Well, I feel that I should say, “Nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard! I hope he fries. ”
And the reason I think I should say this is, he would never forgive me if I didn’t, if I threw away this opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him but mindless good taste. I could hear him whispering in my ear last night as I was writing this:
“All right, Cleese, you’re very proud of being the first person to ever say ‘shit’ on television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to be the first person ever at a British memorial service to say ‘fuck’!”
You see, the trouble is, I can’t. If he were here with me now I would probably have the courage, because he always emboldened me. But the truth is, I lack his balls, his splendid defiance. And so I’ll have to content myself instead with saying “Betty Mardsen…”
(John Cleese, eulogy at Graham Chapman’s funeral, 1989 [source])
German director Wim Wenders was a longtime friend of choreographer Pina Bausch, who specialized in an expressionistic, theatrical form of modern dance known as Tanztheater. Wenders had planned for years to make a documentary about Bausch and her work; unfortunately, she died while the film was in planning. Although Wenders immediately wanted to shelve the project, members of Bausch’s troupe convinced him to make it anyway. The result seems as precise a visual statement as I can imagine of the relentless gifts to be found in one moment followed by another. Here’s the trailer for 2011′s 3D Pina:
_______________________
Note (about the image at the top of this post): An old Polaroid camera recently made an appearance at the bottom of a closet about to be painted and we pined, briefly, for the loss of the instant-photo format. How delightful to learn, then, of the Fujifilm Instax camera — the “mini” format of which produces instant wallet-sized prints. I’m not likely to be buying one soon, but even a casual survey of Instax images from around the Web suggests I might be missing something.
J, I hope that you didn’t toss the camera…http://the-impossible-project.com/
Wow. I’m… speechless. (Almost. :))
I don’t know if I threw it out or not. I shot the 2 or 3 photos remaining on the film pack, which “developed” into nothing recognizable at all. And I knew Polaroid was no longer in the production biz. And it seemed VERY unlikely I’d ever be able to find good film anywhere at a reasonable price. (Whether $20+ per pack is reasonable, I leave the reader to decide…)
I can’t decide if the [clearly-not-]Impossible Project is a genuinely cool thing or a genuinely crazy thing. It seems not to require saying that they’ve targeted a niche market, unlikely to grow much (if at all). Like recording companies which will still press LPs for performers who insist on releasing them.
…And yet, it IS genuinely cool that they’ve said, So what?, and charged ahead anyway.
Have you been in any of their stores, like the one in NYC?
You are kidding? There’s a panorama, fisheye, wide/macro, telephoto lens (and more!) for the iPhone?! Oh, I’m so glad you provided that link under the photo. Though my pocketbook will not be too happy with you.
I have seen clips of Pina Bausch’s work. In particular, her modern choreography for The Rite of Spring (Le Sacre Du Printemps) is mesmerizing.
Stevenson’s piece is beautiful. “Why so wrong, so… flattening? Why not instead
symbols of unchanging love?” The turns throughout are wonderful.
Y’know, of ALL the products available at the Photojojo, the interchangeable smartphone lenses were (collectively) the one which most caught my eye, too! The lenses aren’t just for iPhones — which is what I’d feared. They use a magnetic-ring mount to fasten to the metal ring around the lens on the camera… I’m a little surprised there’s a standard size for the lenses, across makes and models, and wonder (even if so) how well the things actually stay in place. (I see that there’s a teeny little tripod available, too; not sure how THAT mounts.) But what a cool idea (“cool” in a different way than the Impossible Project film/cameras to which brudder, above, led me… but still cool). Let me know how it goes if you give in to the temptation!
The Stevenson poem was a last-minute substitution for the poem I originally had there. Just couldn’t leave it out; I was caught up in its sinuous narrative, too.
P.S. Here’s a YouTube video of that Rite of Spring choreography:
(Aside: it does make me crazy how video uploaders STILL don’t invest a little time researching how to avoid the squashed/stretched look… found it very distracting in watching this film, in particular. Although, all right: beggars/choosers, #firstworldproblems, all that…)
Yes, that’s it. Gosh it’s amazing! Even when stretched. ;)
I think I first saw Pina Bausch on a TV arts programme in England twenty-odd years ago. I suspect it was a late ’80s or early ’90s edition of The South Bank Show, a Sunday evening documentary strand that’s been going for thirty years or more now, and has had some really excellent pieces on it. Did that ever make it over to the States on PBS or whatever? Maybe not – it’s an ITV rather than a BBC show, and their worldwide distribution is usually much weaker. I also caught Pina’s troupe in Beijing a few years ago. Wow – some of the best modern dance I’ve seen, particularly in the way it blends in elements of theatre: sound, lights, props, patches of recognisable narrative. I hadn’t heard of this Wim Wenders project, but it looks stunning. I’m overdue a long browse in the DVD shops.
Green and “And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it — or my observation of it — is temporary?”: Sometimes–once in a rare while–adult human beings can be so endearing. I am (oddly) reminded of a favorite Aunt Elner-ism (Fannie Flagg).
“…poor little old human beings—they’re jerked into this world without having any idea where they came from or what it is they are supposed to do, or how long they have to do it in. Or where they are gonna wind up after that. But bless their hearts, most of them wake up every morning and keep on trying to make some sense out of it. Why you can’t help but love them, can you? I just wonder why more of them aren’t as crazy as betsy bugs.”
Stevenson: In a Yin Yang symbol, what part is not to be believed?
Wenders/Bausch: I would like to play that in slow motion and with different music. Perhaps Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Major.
The Instax Camera: I followed the links and got tickled silly in spite of myself at the wrong thing altogether. I am as distractible as a betsy bug this morning! For the Instax Mini 50S, there’s this description.
“Compact & stylish piano-black body matches to the elegant party. You can enjoy your instant photos stylishly and elegantly. The instax mini 50S adjusts shutter speed incrementally, so you get good pictures even in low light. The ingenious self-timer let you take two shots with a single touch of the shutter button. The close-up lens allows you shoot as right up to 30 cm,for a 2:1 magnification ratio.”
Shame on me, when this is such an ardent post.
Well, given the general theme, it’d be ungracious of ME to comment on how you spent your time here with it. :)
I know of Fannie Flagg but haven’t read her. (Once a Yankee import, always a Yankee import.) Aunt Elner sounds like she would’ve gotten right along with the Stage Manager in Our Town.
“…piano-black body matches to the elegant party” is a particularly elegant example of Jinglish, isn’t it? Almost poetic!
How amazing is that eulogy excerpt? “The Great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky.” Heh.
How am I going to watch this Pina?!!!!!!
Netflix doesn’t have it. Arg. Must see it. Honestly, there is a pressure in my chest about it. Must see.
And any time I see things like that, I wonder about religions that don’t allow dance. They are rubbish. I’m in no mood to be tolerant or understanding. I must see that film.
Sigh. Deep breath.
And now for something completely different. I love Cleese’s eulogy. Did you see that 6 part documentary on the Pythons? Worth watching.