Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

Wo sind die Clowne?

Ist es nicht reich?
Sind wir ein Paar?
Ich hier endlich auf der Erde,
Und du mitten in der Luft.
Wo sind die Clowne?

Ist es nicht eine Wonne?
Stimmst du mir nicht zu?
Eine, die nicht aufhört, herumzuflitzen,
Eine, die sich nicht bewegen kann…
Schicke die Clowne herein.

Gerade als ich aufgehört habe, Tür zu öffnen,
Endlich wissend dass, der, den ich haben wollte, Dein war.
Ich trete mit meinem gewöhnlichen Flair wieder auf.
Meiner Zeilen sicher…
Niemand ist da.

Magst du nicht Farce?
Meine Schuld, ich fürchte.
Ich dachte, du wolltest wie ich das Gleiche…
Tut mir leid, mein Lieber!
Wo sind nun die Clowne
Schicke die Clowne herein
Mache dir keine Umstände mehr, sie sind hier.

Ist es nicht reich?
Ist es nicht komisch?
So spät verliere ich mein Timing in meiner Karriere.
Wo sind nun die Clowne?
Es sollte Clowne geben…
Wohl vielleicht das nächste Jahr.

von http://www.songtexte.com/uebersetzung/judy-collins/send-in-the-clowns-deutsch-6bd6d6ca.html

http://www.jeanne-mammen.de/html/english/contents/artist.html

Metropolis Berlin by Jeanne Mammen (1890-1976)
Metropolis Berlin by Jeanne Mammen (1890-1976)
Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry Uncategorized

Frühlingslied

Unsre Wiesen grünen wieder,
Blumen duften überall;
Fröhlich tönen Finkenlieder,
Zärtlich schlägt die Nachtigall.
Alle Wipfel dämmern grüner,
Liebe girrt und lockt darin;
Jeder Schäfer wird nun kühner,
Sanfter jede Schäferin.

Blüten, die die Knosp’ entwickeln,
Hüllt der Lenz in zartes Laub;
Färbt den Sammet der Aurikeln,
Pudert sie mit Silberstaub.
Sieh! das holde Maienreischen
Dringt aus breitem Blatt hervor,
Beut sich zum bescheidnen Sträußchen
An der Unschuld Busenflor.

Auf den zarten Stengeln wanken
Tulpenkelche, rot und gelb,
Und das Geißblatt flicht aus Ranken
Liebenden ein Laubgewölb’.
Alle Lüfte säuseln lauer
Mit der Liebe Hauch uns an;
Frühlingslust und Wonneschauer
Fühlet, was noch fühlen kann.

salis_seewis

aus: Gedichte von Joh. Gaudenz von Salis-Seewis
Neueste vermehrte Auflage
Zürich bei Orell, Füßli und Compagnie 1829 (S. 5-6)

Categories
Art and Photographic History German Matters Literature Poetry

Ein Frühlingsgedicht, geschrieben Im kältesten Februar- Joachim Ringelnatz

ringelnatz1Die Bäume im Ofen lodern.

Die Vögel locken am Grill.

Die Sonnenschirme vermodern.

Im übrigen ist es still.

 

Es stecken die Spargel aus Dosen

Die zarten Köpfchen hervor.

Bunt ranken sich köstliche Rosen

In Faschingsgirlanden empor.

Ein Etwas, wie Glockenklingen,

Den Oberkellner bewegt,

Mir tausend Eier zu bringen,

Von Osterstören gelegt.

 

Ein süßer Duft von Havanna

Verweht in ringelnder Spur.

Ich fühle an meiner Susanna

Erwachende neue Natur.

 

Es lohnt sich manchmal, zu lieben,

Was kommt, nicht ist oder war.

Ein Frühlingsgedicht, geschrieben

Im kältesten Februar.

Heimweg im Nebel -Ringelnatz
Heimweg im Nebel
-Ringelnatz

 

 

 

 

 

 

Es interessiert mich, das dieser Link befindet sich in Cuxhaven. http://www.ringelnatzstiftung.de/

Categories
German Matters Poetry Uncategorized

Gecko’s “Institute”; Dance and theatre at the Hall for Cornwall

The curtain rises and we are immediately impelled into a Kafkaesque world. The imposing set comprises of a ceiling height of office drawers on either side; a dull grey-brownish limbo-land that looks like the headquarters of the Stasi. The denizens of this sub-topia, Martin and Daniel, dressed like waist-coated bureaucrats from the start of the last century creep around the stage with elaborate gestures and mincing steps. This appears to be a world where cheer must be maintained and institutional routines kept to, deadlines met and clients re-assured. In short a world where anxiety must be kept at bay.

Geck1

Music and wine and romance are introduced at suitable intervals. The dancing now conveys in sudden changes possible ways in which spirits can be raised or perhaps just maintained. The adaptability of the set is revealed as a drawer is pulled out, a spot-lit crimson rose waivered and a waiter emerges to supply the wants of his nervous guest. Nervous, because the lady he awaits is just a pair of surreal hands. His imagination may be playing tricks. Perhaps he has been overworking at the office where a slight mistake can be punished by extreme changes in the environment; a spotlight, loud klaxon and flashing red lights. Here is an eerie world of lost love, heartache and miscommunication where fog prevails and anyone might suddenly need a prosthetic attachment just to keep on going. Indeed, we all realise that any support mechanism keeps you dependent and, as the expressive movements so eloquently show, subject to a new fear-being manipulated by others. Gecko’s theatre shows us just how old-age, illness and impediment bring in their wake, the burdens of dependency; powerlessness against the perilous incursions of the “system”.

Geck

Although the production concerns itself with confusion and conflict, it is not possible to overlook the quality of the dance. The splendid and remarkable co-ordination, involving thoroughgoing trust between the four male dancers, is the result of intensive training. This performance quality is clearly due to hours of training. Conversations with care givers and their clients have paid dividends. The research has resulted in a work which is not only innovative but stirringly original.

The authenticity of The Institute is evidenced by the manner in which scenes are retained in the memory. These may well be different for each member of the audience. It will deeply resonate with personal emotional experience. Lyricism is evoked when hand held lights are carried floating across a darkened stage and poetry again, at the end, when a silhouetted trio of Masai warriors stand against a setting sun. The articulated pole-linked movements of the dancers rendering support to a frightened and shattered client, in search of his distant and unavailable beloved appear, uncannily like Gregor Samsa transformed into a giant spider from the pages of Franz Kafka’s Der Verwandalung. The sub-text in many parts is the how the actions of an institution results in a control mechanism colliding with flesh, like a sharp catheter being inserted into a collapsed vein. However, moments of comedy lighten and vary the pace, as when one performer has a lampshade suspended above him like an angler-fish. This is less a mechanism for predation than an ironic re-emphasis of the isolation of the individual.Geck2

Verbal communication has a particularly interesting role in Gecko’s production. Initially starting with a restrained, cramped discourse where one half-expected Ricky Gervais to make an entrance. It finished with closed-microphone expressive panting. However, it was the use of both French and German to reassure, as it were ‘the patient’ that was particularly engaging. This multilingual exchange managed to convey that words which seem to re-assure can actually disturb and distance. If this was French it was the sort of unsettling French that would be used by Ionesco. In psychiatric distress or dementia or such similar states, there is a reawakening of a child who initially is grasping to express feelings in words. Here the double-bind was clearly illustrated and gesture conveyed frustration at being manipulated. In a thought-provoking and moving production cleverly using props and Francis Bacon-like enclosures, time and life pass onward in the background. The highest accolade is that it invigorates the problematic debate about caring and manipulation which makes Gecko’s Institute both effective and relevant to contemporary social and political concerns.

Here is a video sample from Gecko entitled “Missiing Trailer”

 

 

 

 

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

Sachliche Romanze -Erich Kaestner

Als sie einander acht Jahre kannten
(Und man darf sagen: sie kannten sich gut),
Kam ihre Liebe plötzlich abhanden.
Wie andern Leuten ein Stock oder Hut.

Sie waren traurig, betrugen sich heiter,
Versuchten Küsse, als ob nichts sei,
Und sahen sich an und wußten nicht weiter.
Da weinte sie schließlich. Und er stand dabei.

Vom Fenster aus konnte man Schiffen winken.
Er sagte, es wäre schon Viertel nach vier
Und Zeit, irgendwo Kaffee zu trinken.
Nebenan übte ein Mensch Klavier.

Sie gingen ins kleinste Cafe am Ort
Und rührten in ihren Tassen.
Am Abend saßen sie immer noch dort.
Sie saßen allein, und sie sprachen kein Wort
Und konnten es einfach nicht fassen.

Categories
Book Reviews German Matters Literature Uncategorized

Review of Jonathan Lethem’s “Dissident Gardens”

Rose Zimmer, a feisty American communist radical, takes on many good and great causes. These include everything from feminism and racism to the changing course of Stalinism in the American C.P. but most of all; her biggest causes are the people around her. The effects upon them are diverse and devastating. She often propels them to success but at the same time they feel battered and must escape in order according to their own needs. Her affections are real but invasive. Rose keeps a shrine to Abraham Lincoln. Rose’s self-assertion within the perimeters of the German-designed 20th Century New York suburb of Queens, a multi-cultural suburb and a planned housing development similar to Hampstead Garden City provide the setting for Jonathan Lethem’s Tour de Force.JL

Reading Dissident Gardens is rather like taking a plane to New York and perhaps linked into a time-machine to peruse 80 years of political tensions that stress three generations. Lethem, who trained as an artist, is quite superb at visually rendering the city brown brick tenements, elevated railways, grand bridges and squares and together with their uses. Some of the latter, for instance, under the influence of socially concerned denizens like Rose, have been commandeered into communal gardens. Additionally, you even get a taste of the food from iced bear-claws, milkshakes and salt-beef sandwiches. His ear is at least as strong as his eye and the salty, saucy language carries the vigorous impact of Italian, Irish, Hispanic and Yiddish all gemischt. The reader will benefit from access to a good dictionary of urban slang to navigate this environment as much as his or her GPS so as not to lose your way in this city jungle.

As with a city break, the most interesting aspect of any visit is meeting the locals. Here Lethem provides panoply of fabulous characters. His technique is such that you he reveals not just the stream of consciousness but also the fractured and sometimes damaged nature of their sudden preoccupations. There is Cicero Lookins, the brilliant, angry, black, gay and overweight college lecturer. He has the dubious privilege of becoming Ross’s protégé and carries the burden of growing up the son of a nurse who is suffering from chronic lupus and a conventional heroic policeman from the NYPD who has become Rose’s lover. Cicero is a volatile mixture of intelligence, cynicism and compulsive sexuality. His lecturing style challenges the young and indolent yawning student audience that attend his social philosophy lectures. He is reading Robert Musil’s grand scarcely completed novel, The Man Without Qualities. He has become imprisoned by his own psychological defences and just how this developed is lucidly, believably and eloquently explained with a certain ironic sympathy.JL1

Each chapter can almost be taken as a story within itself. This is a satisfying approach as there is little in the way of a page-turning narrative to speed the story forward. Indeed, this is a novel that casts light upon what has happened in previous chapters as well as links with other persons. It jumps around and resonates in time. This backward linking is intriguing in itself and gradually makes the relationships between the characters memorable. Dissident Gardens is not always easy to read but the detail, texture and breadth of the writing weaves a brisk believable magic as the story progresses. Idealism is often exposed in its naivety in this novel. The characters, as in real life, are often deeply wounded by losses but remain authentic in their striving.

This is a novel which spreads itself over the globe whilst embracing wide belief systems. Nicaraguan armed resistance, passive resistance, the Occupy movement, East German authoritarian Marxism are but a few of the topics encompassed. However, this is not in the usual sense a novel of ideas. It is critical of grand narratives in a manner that the renowned American pragmatic philosopher, Richard Rorty might have approved. It is the individual enclosed within the fascinating psycho-geography of New York that keeps the reader interested. For instance, there is Rose’s daughter who cannot possibly meet her mother’s expectations. Miriam Zimmer survives her mother’s physical attack and seeks an alternative belief within Hippie Greenwich Village of the 1960s. She is pursued by her hustler cousin Lenny whose interests also include chess and numismatics. She falls for an Irish protest singer who is attracted by prospects of living in a commune and attending meetings with the Society of Friends. However, in certain ways Miriam cannot easily escape her mother or her authoritarian distant father.

Reading about Lethem’s writing methods- said to be on an exercise machine using a voice operated word processor- accounts for the energy of the writing. The style is sometimes abrasive but also beguiling. This novel can be described as both tragic and comic. Tragic in the sense that the characters often seem isolated and comic because the reader will recognise some of his own impulses and be encouraged to laugh at them. I am left reminded by the words of a song from the musical Hair: – “Do you only care about the bleeding crowd? How about a needing friend? I need a friend” If there is a message from this novel, it is about our need for human closeness and how the grand systems we erect prevent us getting in touch with each other.

 

Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry Uncategorized

Goethe -Frühlingsorakel

Frühlingsorakel

Goethe

Du prophetscher Vogel du,
Blütensänger, o Coucou!
Bitten eines jungen Paares
In der schönsten Zeit des Jahres
Höre, liebster Vogel du;
Kann es hoffen, ruf ihm zu:
Dein Coucou, dein Coucou,
Immer mehr Coucou, Coucou.

Hörst du! ein verliebtes Paar
Sehnt sich herzlich zum Altar;
Und es ist bei seiner Jugend
Voller Treue, voller Tugend.
Ist die Stunde denn noch nicht voll?
Sag, wie lange es warten soll!
Horch! Coucou! Horch! Coucou!
Immer stille! Nichts hinzu!

Ist es doch nicht unsre Schuld!
Nur zwei Jahre noch Geduld!
Aber, wenn wir uns genommen,
Werden Pa-pa-papas kommen?
Wisse, daß du uns erfreust,
Wenn du viele prophezeist.
Eins! Coucou! Zwei! Coucou!
Immer weiter Coucou, Coucou, Cou.

Haben wir wohl recht gezählt,
Wenig am Halbdutzend fehlt.
Wenn wir gute Worte geben,
Sagst du wohl, wie lang wir leben?
Freilich, wir gestehen dirs,
Gern zum längsten trieben wirs.
Cou Coucou, Cou Coucou,
Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou.

Leben ist ein großes Fest,
Wenn sichs nicht berechnen läßt.
Sind wir nun zusammen blieben,
Bleibt denn auch das treue Lieben?
Könnte das zu Ende gehn,
Wär doch alles nicht mehr schön.
Cou Coucou, Cou Coucou :,:
Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou, Cou(Mit Grazie in infinitum)

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Tischbein's Goethe
Tischbein’s Goethe
Categories
German Matters Literature Poetry

Die ersten Blumen -Herman Hesse

HesseNeben dem Bach
Den roten Weiden nach
Haben in diesen Tagen
Gelbe Blumen viel
Ihre Goldaugen aufgeschlagen.
Und mir, der längst aus der Unschuld fiel,
Rührt sich Erinnerung im Grunde
An meines Lebens goldene Morgenstunde
Und sieht mich hell aus Blumenaugen an.

Ich wollte Blumen brechen gehn;
Nun laß ich sie alle stehn
Und gehe heim, ein alter Mann.(1915)
Bach_und_alter_Zeidlerweg_klein

Categories
Art and Photographic History Art Exhibition Reviews German Matters Penwith West Cornwall (and local history)

Exhibition at the Redwing Gallery, Penzance

St Ives-based multi media artist Mary Fletcher has co-ordinated an interesting exhibition in The Redwing Gallery, Penzance on behalf of volunteers at the venue. This runs until the end of January and has already received positive reviews such as that by the well-known local poet and commentator, Frank Ruhrmund. Writing in the CornishmanVau6 at http://www.westbriton.co.uk/Volunteers-thanked-gallery-assistance/story-25852842-detail/story.html, he states about the exhibition and the co-ordinator herself, “A gallery renowned for its support and promotion of outsider art, it is not all that surprising that Mary Fletcher should feel at home there. It is only two years since, for the first time in her long career, that she has been able to enjoy a working space outside of her house, at White’s Old Workshops in Porthmeor Road, St Ives. Many will recall her solo show held last year in the St Ives Arts Club Arts which celebrated her first year in her new working space.”

Mary Fletcher at The Redwing
Mary Fletcher at The Redwing

The relaxed atmosphere in The Redwing owes something to its bohemian ambience and partly due to its secluded location. The comfortable seating, bookstands and available refreshments all add to the effect. Here, Peter Fox and Ros Williams, co-directors of the Redwing Gallery, have created a space which is primarily concerned with outsider art. The current exhibition certainly adds to the general comfortable charm of the space. Mary Fletcher’s lyrical canvases remind me of an excellent and memorable exhibition by Litz Pisk who had worked at the Old Vic Theatre School (b.1909 in Vienna) many years ago at Newlyn Art Gallery. Interestingly, a student of Max Reinhardt, Pisk designed for Brecht and Weil’s first

Figures by Litz Pisk (not at The Redwing)
Figures by Litz Pisk (not at The Redwing)

production. http://www.baacorsham.co.uk/mparkin/p65.htm  and also her film work for Isodora is at http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0685496/ Mary Fletcher’s paintings too look a little like dancing musical characters against a colourful background grid.Vau4 There are also a number of interesting sculptures and small figurines in the exhibition which are also worthy of attention.

Once again, Vaughan Warren, educated at the Royal Academy Schools (The RA Schools was founded in 1769, and remains independent to this day. This independence enables the Schools to offer the only three-year postgraduate programme in Europe.) has turned in a range of varied and intriguing work. Two of his pictures, I found particularly appealing, although it is worth remarking that all his paintings, like his self-portrait in the manner of Cezanne, benefit from his wide knowledge of art history. The first portrays a sleeping head surmounted delicately  above a breast in a transport of lovely colours. This evocative duo puts one in mind of those lovely lines from W.H.Auden:-Vau3

“Lay your sleeping head, my love,

Human on my faithless arm;

Time and fevers burn away

Individual beauty from

Thoughtful children, and the grave

Proves the child ephermeral:

But in my arms till break of day

Let the living creature lie,

Mortal, guilty, but to me

The entirely beautiful.”

 

The second painting,energetic and interesting, executed in black, white and greys shows a view above St Just and looks down literally upon, in the distance, the Great Western Hunt in progress. As Wilde once remarked, ” The Unspeakable in Pursuit of the Uneatable”. The unspeakable in this context means appalling, horrendous, wretched and indeed may remind one of another poem of Auden’s in quite another way:-

From Musée des Beaux Arts (1940)

Vau7“Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy
life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.”

 

Mr Vaughan Warren
Mr Vaughan Warrent Admission is free, and this show by the gallery’s volunteers can be seen in the Redwing Gallery, Wood Street, off Market Jew Street, Penzance, 11am to 4pm.

 

Categories
Book Reviews Classics German Matters Literature

Writing in Exile-the Land of Lost Content

The lines from A.E.Housman are well known:-

Into my heart an air that kills
 From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
 What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
 I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
 And cannot come again.

The condition of being in Exile, is one common element in the human condition. It is certainly an important factor in Irish culture as is well pointed out in this excerpt from The Guardian on Beckett and Joyce – http://www.theguardian.com/world/2010/feb/28/ireland-exile-culture

Here Sean O’Hagan mentions,”This sense of spiritual as well as cultural displacement was evoked, too, by the poet Patrick Kavanagh, who walked the streets around Ealing Broadway in 1953 willing himself to remember his native Monaghan “until a world comes to life – morning, the silent bog”. In the second half of that same decade, an estimated half a million people left Ireland to begin their lives all over again, abroad.” There is spiritual exile, linguistic exile and the sense of personal exile when someone close dies or moves away, in an emotional or geographical sense.

George Klaar (1920-2009)
George Klaar (1920-2009)

TLW I have just been reading a deeply moving account of lost Austrian-Jewish culture in George Klaar’s Last Waltz in Vienna and was sorry to hear of his passing.http://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/george-clare-memoirist-who-recalled-life-in-nazi-vienna-and-postwar-berlin-1726060.html .This threnody mentions his experiences not only in Vienna but also in Berlin, from where Klaar attempted his escape from the Nazis, initially to Ireland. A different approach and general introduction to exilliteratur (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exilliteratur) is to be found in Martin Maunthner’s book on German Writers in French Exile 1933-1940. Mauthner was born in Leningrad of  Austrian parents. He worked in journalism and with the

Katharina Mann in Munich in 1905-she later converted to Lutheranism
Katharina Mann in Munich in 1905-she later converted to Lutheranism

European Commission in Brussels as a senior information officer. He also worked with Randolph Churchill on the biography of the latter’s father. In fact the book centres around a small port near Toulon. It makes much mention too of Aldous Huxley, Somerset Maugham,H.G.Wells, Muggeridge and Mosley. The French writers, Malraux and Gide are included in this account of the émigré community which provides an introduction to the intellectual drama and the tragic zeitgeist of this seven year period. The major figures are naturally Thomas, whose wife Katia came from a wealthy Jewish family of mathematicians, and his francophile brother Heinrich Mann, as well as Thomas’s son Klaus who engaged in a bitter battle of words at one stage with the Berlin based, Gottfried Benn- before the latter was to realise the full implication of Goebbel’s authoritarian drive from 1933 to achieve the synchronisation of the arts (Gleichschaltung) from his Ministry of Propaganda as Weimar collapse. Directed against Bolshevism it engendered militarism and focussed on anti-semitism taking in gypsies and homosexuals on the way and ending in the horrors of the Holocaust. This was all under the title of popular enlightenment. The account by Mauthner lacks the stylistic verve of George Klaar’s biographical account which affords an insight into the historical development of fascism upon Jewish life in Vienna.

Many Jews who were physically harassed and otherwise threatened by the Nazis and travelled to many locations and were exiled to Amsterdam, Stockholm, Zürich, London, Prague, Moscow as well as across the Atlantic to both North and South America. Martin Mauthner’s book seems to have three great strengths. It shows the wide variety of responses of individual refugees and their attempts to organise opposition to Hitler and the hampering difficulties other countries governments and other organisations presented. There is considerable detail about individuals like Feuchtwanger and Schwarzschild, famous at the time and now unfortunately neglected as well as journalists, publishers, cartoonists and illustrators. This book confines itself to writers, poets and playwrights but is particularly intriguing on the splits with the communists and within the United Front. The cruel trials under the auspices of Stalin proving a profound sticking point; also the different approaches in the Spanish Civil War.

Leopold Schwarzschild Editor of Das Neue Tagebuch
Leopold Schwarzschild
Editor of Das Neue Tagebuch

Just this morning I recieved an interesting posting concerning classical antiquity from http://poemsintranslation.blogspot.co.uk/ with a version of Ovid’s Tristia and the mortifying effects of having to leave his wife behind in charge of his posessions.

Illa dolōre āmēns tenebrīs nārrātur obortīs
   sēmjanimis mediā prōcubuisse domō,
utque resurrēxit foedātis pulvere turpī
  crīnibus et gelidā membra levāvit humō,
sē modo, dēsertōs modo complōrāsse Penātēs,
  nōmen et ēreptī saepe vocāsse virī,
nec gemuisse minus, quam sī nātaeve meumve
 vīdisset strūctōs corpus habēre, rogōs,
et voluisse morī, moriendō pōnere sēnsus,
   respectūque tamen nōn periisse meī.
Vīvat, et absentem, quoniam sīc fāta tulērunt,
    vīvat et auxiliō sublevet usque suō.

Translated by A.Z.Foreman as:-

I’m told she fainted from grief, mind plunged in dark,   
   And fell half-dead right there in our house.
When she came round, with disheveled dust-fouled hair,   
   Staggering up from the cold hard ground,
She wept for herself, for a house abandoned, screaming   
   Her stolen man’s name time after time,
Wailing as though she’d witnessed our daughter’s body   
   Or mine, upon the high-stacked pyre;
And longed for death, to kill the horror and hardship,   
   Yet out of regard for me she lived.
Long may she live! And in life give aid to her absent   
   Love, whose exile the Fates have willed. Tristia