This is the invitation for a sculpture-painting exhibition
including a plate of poetry sculptures to be seen in France
at the end of April.
Invitation link here:
http://www.raphaellepia.fr/docs/Invit_Print_Orangerie_2012.pdf
Invitation
M. Alain DELAGE, Maire de la Mothe Saint-Héray (79),
Le Conseil Municipal, la Commission Culturelle
ont le plaisir de vous convier, dans le cadre du
Printemps de l’Orangerie
au vernissage de l’exposition
le vendredi 27 avril 2012 à 18h30
TEXTILE À L’OEUVRE
de Raphaëlle Pia / peinture
et Karine Jollet / sculpture textile
(broderies de poèmes d’Haris Metaxa)
en présence des artistes
Un vin d’honneur sera servi à l’issue de la manifestation.
> exposition du 28 avril au 3 juin
L’Orangerie est ouverte les jeudis, vendredis, samedis, dimanches
et les jours fériés de 14h30 à 19h
Renseignements Mairie tél. 05 49 05 01 41 Entrée gratuite
samedi 17 mars 2012
Clay crumpling
Out of clay I created you
and then I forgot
and adored you
like a divinity
of beauty and harmony.
One morning I woke up
by the deafening sound
of clay crumpling
and crushing down
with a bang!
So much for idols,
of clay or gold...
and then I forgot
and adored you
like a divinity
of beauty and harmony.
One morning I woke up
by the deafening sound
of clay crumpling
and crushing down
with a bang!
So much for idols,
of clay or gold...
The Giant with Clay Feet
A wonderful dream
of love and harmony,
a beautiful giant
finally coming towards me,
a smiling giant
with clay feet.
of love and harmony,
a beautiful giant
finally coming towards me,
a smiling giant
with clay feet.
jeudi 8 mars 2012
On Beauty (From "The Prophet" by K. Gibran)
And a poet said, "Speak to us of Beauty."
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us."
The tired and the weary say, "beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit.
Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."
But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,
And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."
At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."
And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."
In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."
And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
(Find the whole edition and more information about the poet on this site: http://leb.net/mira/)
On Love (From "The Prophet" by K.Gibran)
Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them.
And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them.
And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
On Talking (From "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran)
And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
Argento sul blu
Primavera pronta a fiorire
illuminata dall'equivoco mistero
della luna piena.
Argento sul velluto blu.
Promesse e piaceri
a venire.
mardi 28 février 2012
Innocence remains
Lighhearted,
like the soft breeze
of this past Greek summer,
carefree and hopeful
as I want to become again.
Holiday nostalgia
and a deep wish
for peace.
A Poet's Garden
Finally a fascinating project
and I even know
its possible future location!
Life smiles to me again
and actions and people
fall, as by magic,
back to their appropriate places.
A Poet's Garden,
an ontological compass
on value and essence.
No limits / hostage to clients
You are afraid
about your future
but your clients use
your fear
to blackmail you.
Hostage to your clients,
you cannot protect
your colleagues.
Conflict of interest,
you cannot be
inside
and above
interested parties...
"Aigina" boat / Enchanted past
It is seven years ago
since this picture has been taken
and yet,
as I look at it,
past holiday sensations
come alive
like a enchanted forest
awaking up after a long sleep.
Asleep
but alive,
a good definition of past...
Beauty is seeking Virtue to Love
If only this harmony
could have
a moral dimension too..
Beauty and virtue,
the most gifted
of lovers...
Rat Heart
You think so are gifted
and powerful
and such a good professional
when in reality
you are just an empty, arid ground
for feelings and thoughts.
Rat Heart
Walking.
lundi 27 février 2012
Stability in mouvement
How to stay still
and self-centered
with doors
opening and closing
on your face?
Difficult exercise
in positive thinking
and balance
but a very necessary one.
A door closes,
another shall open up!
jeudi 23 février 2012
Space and light metronome / Hommage II to F. Giannesini
A vibrating presence,
modifying space,
animated by light,
already in resonance
with the world around it.
Sculptures of wool
or sculptures of slate,
each unique and precious,
following their own inner movement
like so many metronomes
of space and light.
Condensation and purity
of sublimated presence,
delicate and powerful connection
of art and life.
Happiness pills
in sculptural form.
http://francoise-giannesini.fr/
mercredi 22 février 2012
A little red line / Hommage to F.Giannesini
A little red line
on a reclining sculpture,
unfinished as yet,
lying of her red bed
of passion and dreams.
A little red line
uttering sounds of hope
and tenderness,
of share
and respect.
A little red line
slowly bleeding in silence
puts back
peace in my heart
and a smile on my face.
The Metaphysics of Boredom
Pretending
life is hiding somewhere
in boring words and concepts
but keep failing to see it,
word after word,
description after description,
question after question.
Boredom
will lead my way
to where life is hiding,
very far away
of this empty, wishful thinking
growing like a huge dead tree
on the head of people
wanting only to manage power,
exercise control
and convince me
of their supreme importance.
I hear their self-important words
and boredom
becomes me.
Attack / Nothing personal
I thought
it was nothing personal,
the screams,
the attacks,
the sabotage,
the atmosphere of conspirancy
and the refusal to talk.
I thought
it was nothing personal
the pain,
the confusion,
the surprise
and the wonder
I was feeling.
But now I know
it was very personal indeed
and I shall not let you
destroy me so abusively.
mardi 21 février 2012
No contact
I see white,
you see black,
I feel pink,
you feel purple,
I think yellow
you think grey.
But we are both
in pain.
mercredi 15 février 2012
Snow paranoia
Monsters are hiding
underneath this soft,
white,
frozen veil,
white as snow
but potentially
far more fatal.
Opacity / Double portrait
Opacity
is both a physical reality
and a psychological state of mind.
Harmonic meeting
of dimensions
for once!
mercredi 8 février 2012
mardi 7 février 2012
transformation or destruction?
kill
the poisonous plant
so
a new,
ambivalent
flower
can grow
at its place.
killing is healing
Un peu, beaucoup, a la folie...
Is love a quantity feeling
or a quality one?
Can you love a bit,
a lot,
or been possessed by love?
Unfortunately,
petal divination
leaves us swimming alone
in deep waters
and experience
is unconclusive...
Il bacio della lingua / Language Kiss
La lingua
è come un bacio
riconosciuto.
Language,
if not spoken for some time,
is like a long lost kiss
that comes alive again
when the unused words
start coming
out of your mouth.
(Isola d'Elba, 4/4/2010)
lundi 6 février 2012
Here comes the sun / le coeur au chaud
Heat is born
from an inner source,
we are all
the sun
of our own solar system.
vendredi 3 février 2012
jeudi 19 janvier 2012
Cretan Flower Garden
You can always keep your head
above the water
as long as gardens, flowers,
sun and sea exist.
mardi 10 janvier 2012
A series of videos about Philosophers and Artists mediating on Life
Starting with Agnes Martin and continuing with the greatest minds of our time, what do we know about Life?
Listen and think!
A path to self-discovery combining first hand experience and sharing on thoughts, inspiration coming also from what others think.
Hannah Arendt & The Banality of Evil
Yes, the evil remains a choice that you can choose not to make even if many choose to make it.
What is interesting is that you find the same central topic about the meaning and expression of evil not only in contemporary Ethics but also in literature, i.e in Shakespeare and in almost all Agatha Christie books, to cite just two of my favourite authors.
In "Death on the Nile" for instance, the central moral character of the whole plot, Jacqueline, is wondering from the start to the end of the book if she was right in letting evil invade her but she never stops accepting the fact that she always had the choice to act otherwise and she just did not take it.
I think that this choice is the main one for all of us to make in all moments of our lives.
Not for others, for ourselves.
With no responsabily and no dignity there is no life worth living.
I dedicate this both to my friends and to my enemies.
Francis Bacon - On Life, Death, and Gambling
If you don't believe me, hear it from the horse's mouth...
Meditation on Francis Bacon's studio and art
"Messy, destructive and wonderful..." the video's view of Bacon's life and work.
I am not so sure that Bacon's value resides in those words.
For me the important fact is his courage to explore a dimension of the spirit with original and compelling means, nightmares that become accepted and dramatically represented experiences of life and art.
His art is strong but this man has also a life, is a real warm blooded and passionate being, not an abstraction dreaming of some posthumous glory as so many of so called artists tend to do.
The messy and the distractive can or cannot be there.
The important thing is the carnal marriage between experience and expression.
Even the nightmare is an accident.
His work, Bacon's work, could be just as compelling even if it represented happiness and bliss.
Is not the topic nor the way he lived and worked, not even his sexuality that matters.
What matters is the profound intensity and honesty of the artistic transfer of experience in expression.
Wile staying alive and hot-blooded in the process...
Glorious solitude and pain.
Duchamp interviews
Yes, get rid of separation between art and life, have just life!
Still a vision, an utopia but a great one to have.
No vanity, unity.
No market, shared pleasure.
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