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Such lovely work contrasting with the commercial drear of these major ports.
In early 1906, as Paul Signac (1863-1935) was completing his large painting of the church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde and the port of Marseilles, he was visited by the former Nabi Maurice Denis, and Ker-Xavier Roussel, who had a house nearby. After that, Signac visited Spain briefly, then went to Paris for the annual Salon des Indépendants, where that painting was exhibited alongside six other landscapes of his.
In the Spring, he travelled to the Netherlands, where he visited Rotterdam and Amsterdam for the second time, and painted watercolour sketches. During the summer he cruised the Mediterranean on board a friend’s yacht. For much of the rest of the year, he was busy turning his sketches into finished oil paintings.
Paul Signac (1863-1935), Steamboats, Rotterdam (Cachin 436) (1906), oil on canvas, 73 x 92 cm, Shimane Art Museum, Shimane, Japan. WikiArt.
Signac’s finished painting of Steamboats, Rotterdam (1906) is remarkable in retaining…
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Flâneuse by Lauren Elkin
Sounds brilliant and an interesting exploration in psychogeography. This sounds like a book that I must read. Perception of cities has come up in my reading too. Chicago in “Humbolt’s Gift” and Toibin’s Dublin in his poetry collection.
When we hear the word ‘flâneur’, we probably think of some well-to-do chap nonchalantly wandering the streets of 19th-century Paris, idling away his time in cafés and bars, casually watching the inhabitants of the city at work and play. Irrespective of the specific figure we have in mind, the flâneur is almost certainly a man – a well-dressed dandy, possibly like the central pen-and-ink sketch on the cover of this Vintage edition of Flâneuse. The flâneur is a consummate observer, looking without participating, preferring to remain somewhat distanced from the action in his leisurely pursuits.
In this fascinating book, the critically-acclaimed writer and translator Lauren Elkin shows us another side of flâneusing, highlighting the existence of the female equivalent, the eponymous flâneuse. While the male flâneur has been well documented over time, much less has been written about his female counterpart…
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Confused in Causewayhead
This street should be as famous as any in Dublin. Why Dublin you might ask. Having read some Toibin recently on Wilde’s Father, Yeats’s Dad and Joyce’s pater- I feel the streets, alleyways and denizens deserve their eulogy too.
This town can be irritating and it’s inhabitants as well, what can one say? People muttering into mobiles so difficult to tell apart from those sadly suffering from Tourettes. Those with dogs an extendable leads are the most dangerous to those, like myself who are short sighted. Causewayhead though is always in some sort of flux. The colours of the one and only greengrocer/ delicatessen today offering purple pomegranates at the reasonable rate of three for a pound. Can I find the energy to google in what succulent dish they might be served?
Where oh where is the travel agents gone?How can I erase the sad memories of this lively street looking depressingly empty during Covid? What are these strange new stores with handtowels priced with West End prices? Have enough rich folk moved in to afford the strange articles here on sale? A book about East End interiors going for 30 quid for instance. At least the cash and carry shop is open and supplying cheap torches so that I can read the fortune I seem to have spent with Scottish Power.
Well despite some incipient grumpiness, I have managed to find another book for 50p in the charity shop. Instead of a trip to Hampstead or a herringbone Irish jacket, I have found a biography of H.G.Wells by Michael Foot. It will doubtless join the pile of to be read books cluttering the lounge.
So what next after this Cappuccino in the relatively quiet Cinema cafe? Not really up for another bacon sandwich at the Smugglers so probably the Oxfam shop, reconsider the pomegranates and then the bus back to read Christopher Reid. 📚
You probably know that the Duras has been made into a film now available as a DVD
The Lover by Marguerite Duras — I’ve said it once, and I will say it again. The French know how to write! This book has been considered the Anti-Lolita. Lolita is my favourite book of all time, so any book that is somehow tied to it will be going straight on my list.
Hating Olivia by Mark SaFranko — This book is criminally underrated. It’s also unfortunately difficult to get hold of. I got my copy from Amazon, but there are some on eBay. Mark, the author, follows me on Twitter, and we had an enlightening discussion about the industry.
Roadside Picnic by Boris and Arkady Strugatsky — This book is absolutely fascinating. A totally unique take on the science fiction genre. Aliens have been and gone…
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These are terrific images but I can’t see the purpose of the pixellations.
Day and night, urban and suburban, presence and absence, here and there—the notion of “in-between-ness” significantly characterises the paintings of South African artist MJ Lourens. Executed with photorealistic precision, the artworks seem like quietly powerful representations of the liminal and the peripheral, of the process of transformation.
The light (blue making way for soft splashes of pink or orange or red making way for grey) creates a dreamy mood. The landscape features expanses of almost wild earth punctuated by structures of industry—wire fences, factory towers—erected and organised with a sense of confidence and the promise of progress.
The viewer is left to meditate on the fading and arrival of things, and wonder what is being lost and what gained.
Born in Pretoria, in 1973, Lourens studied Fine Art Sculpture at the University of Pretoria from 1992 to 1996. His body of work includes paintings, sculptures and film, having…
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Real life
Реален живот
ще ти кажа нещо обикновено
аз винаги творя по вдъхновение
и като реален живот
награждавам всяко търпение
искам да те чета постоянно
има истина в твоя поетичен свят
това ще е танц на думи
и сърцата ни ще се изпълнят с благодат
© ВГеорг 2022
Real life
I will tell you something ordinary
I always create by inspiration
and like a real life
I reward every patience
I want to read you constantly
there is truth in your poetic space
it will be a dance of words
and our hearts will be filled with grace
© VGeorg 2022
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Caught, by Henry Green
Wow! You read so amazingly fast! I recently read a book about Green, Greene and Elizabet Bowen in The Love-charm of Bombs: Restless Lives in the Second World War- brilliant read!
Recommended to me by Proustitute, Henry Green’s fourth novel Caught is one of six of his novels included in 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die (2006 edition). I’ve bolded them in the list below.
- Blindness (1926), on the TBR
- Living (1929)
- Party-Going (1939)
- Caught (1943)
- Loving (1945), see my review
- Back (1946)
- Concluding (1948)
- Nothing (1950), see my review
- Doting (1952), on the TBR
During the war, perhaps mindful of the possibility of not surviving the Blitz, Green also wrote a memoir called Pack My Bag: A Self-Portrait (1940). He was in the Auxiliary Fire Service, a poorly equipped and hastily mobilised volunteer force in which 800 men died because it was such dangerous work. This AFS experience also forms the backdrop for Caught.
Caught is cited in 1001 Books as an ambivalent novel.
The story examines how people are kept apart by social and sexual differences…
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A random survey of self-portraits created by women through the centuries
German artist Cornelia Paczka-Wagner (1864-after 1930)
1. Self-Portrait, c.1898 / Lithograph / Cantor Arts Center, Stanford University, California
2. Self-Portrait, ND / Oil on canvas / Private collection
[3 embedded links above]
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The Dream of a Ridiculous Woman
I wonder what your associations are to Russian at this time. The buildings seem to be a theme too- the cold academic atmosphere contrasting with the home you were given, perhaps.
Last night I slept only for a short time because of a recent crisis. I had a dream that woke me and forced me to flee. I got into my car and drove to Cork. This was the dream:
My partner and I were fighting. I knew this because she wasn’t anywhere. I couldn’t find her. I’ve had dreams like this many times. This one was in a large building with many doors and wide hallways. I suppose it to be a university. I went looking for her. A friend, a guy, told me, in a secret way, that she was behind a particular door. He pointed and then walked away. I walked in. I saw my partner dressed beautifully, with the most radiant smile and happiness. She was eating grapes that were being served to her by another woman. The other woman was the woman whose house was offered…
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penwithlit 
