Jünger visits Picasso

From the Paris diary of Ernst Jünger, 22 July 1942 (full text here):

This afternoon I called on Picasso. He lives in a spacious building whose storeys now serve as lofts and storerooms. This house in the Rue des Grands-Augustines plays a role in the novels of Balzac, and it was there that they brought Ravaillac after he murdered the king. In one of the corners rose a narrow winding staircase with steps of stone and old oakwood. Tacked to a narrow door was a sheet of paper on which the word ICI was written in blue crayon. After I had rung the bell, the door was opened to me by a short man in a simple overall, Picasso himself. I had met him once before briefly, and again I had the impression that I was looking at a magician—an impression enhanced on that occasion by a little pointed green hat.

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L’Aubade (1942)

Apart from a small flat and some storage closets, the domicile consisted of two capacious lofts, the lower of which, it seemed, he used for sculptural work, the upper for painting. The plaster floor was bricked in a honeycomb pattern, the yellow-washed walls buttressed by dark beams of oak. Also beneath the ceilings ran black ribs of oakwood. The premises seemed to me well suited for work; they had the fecundity of old attics in which time stands still.

First we looked at old papers downstairs, then ascended to the upper story. Among the paintings that stood there, two simple female portraits struck my fancy, and then, above all, a stretch of seashore that seemed to blossom before my eyes in ever greater intensities of red and yellow. While regarding it, we talked about painting and writing from memory. Picasso asked me what real landscape was to be looked for behind the Marble Cliffs.

Other pictures, such as a series of asymmetrical heads, struck me as monstrous. Nevertheless, such an extraordinary talent—whom we have seen devote himself for years and decades to such subjects—must be granted an objectivity of vision, even if it eludes our own perception. Ultimately it involves something not yet seen and not yet born, experiments of an alchemical nature—in fact, several times he used the word retort. Never was it so compellingly and so eerily plain to me that the homunculus is more than an idle invention. The image of man is magically prefigured, and few suspect the terrible profundity of the decision the painter makes.

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Dora Maar au chat (1942)

Although I tried more than once to steer him onto this subject, he was evasive, perhaps deliberately:  “There are chemists who spend their entire lives exploring the elements hidden in a lump of sugar. Well, I’d like to know what color is.”

On the influence of his works: “My pictures would have the same effect if after finishing them I wrapped them up and sealed them without showing them to anyone. They are essentially manifestations of an immediate nature.”

On the war: “The two of us, as we sit here, would negotiate peace this very afternoon. In the evening mankind could light the candles.”

~~

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Jünger in the 1930’s

New Post has been published on http://blog.jannews.net/2014/07/more-on-juenger-video-and-links/

More on Juenger (video and links)

Juenger, equally admired and chided.  Eumeswil is his best sustained work of philosophical fiction and certainly worth reading.

The video playlist below is actually quite good if one is unfamiliar with Juenger, informative of things other than the controversy surrounding his apoliteia – though one does find some mention of it.

"I Know you’re waiting on my move tonight
Hesitation - Wait until the moment’s right”

Recorded & produced by Beat Connection at Airport Oasis and Aurora Zone. Mastered by Joe Laporta. THIS IS THE SHIT. LISTEN TO IT. LISTEN TO THEIR OTHER STUFF. BUY THEIR MERCH. BUY THEIR MUSIC. DO IT. NOW.

anonymous said:

heutzutage macht man sich eben (juengere) weiber auf tumblr klar, stimmt's? peinlicher geht es kaum

Klar, ist der einzige Grund wieso ich auf Tumblr bin!

Microdermabrasion: Strahlend gesunde und jüngere Haut durch Peelings
Was ist zu tun wenn unreine Haut entsteht, wenn Talgdrüsen verstopfen und sich entzünden?
Viele Betroffene versuchen nach wie vor, die Verhornungen mit Peelings aus dem Drogeriemarkt zu lösen und hoffen, so die Poren zu reinigen. Diese frei verkäuflichen mechanischen…
http://aussenden.com/microdermabrasion-strahlend-gesunde-und-juengere-haut-durch-peelings/ | http://k.ht/a7d

A Mushroom Symposium

Albert Hoffman quotes Ernst Jünger’s Annäherungen: Drogen und Rausch, in which Jünger narrates his experience with psilocybin, a hallucinogen produced in mushrooms, during a 1962 experiment with Hoffman:  (Full source here)

~~

… the mushroom began to act; the spring bouquet glowed darker. Everything became skin and was touched, even the retina—there the contact was light … This light was multicolored; it arranged itself in strings, which gently swung back and forth; in strings of glass beads of oriental doorways. They formed doors, like those one passes through in a dream, curtains of lust and danger. The wind stirred them like a garment. They also fell down from the belts of dancers, opened and closed themselves with the swing of the hips, and from the beads a rippling of the most delicate sounds fluttered to the heightened senses. The chime of the silver rings on the ankles and wrists is already too loud. It smells of sweat, blood, tobacco, chopped horse hairs, cheap rose essence. Who knows what is going on in the stables?

It must be an immense palace, Mauritanian, not a good place. At this ballroom flights of adjoining rooms lead into the lower stratum. And everywhere the curtains with their glitter, their sparkling, radioactive glow. Moreover, the rippling of glassy instruments with their beckoning, their wooing solicitation:  “Will you go with me, beautiful boy?”  Now it ceased, now it repeated, more importunate, more intrusive, almost already assured of agreement.

Now came forms—historical collages, the vox humana, the call of the cuckoo. Was it the whore of Santa Lucia, who stuck her breasts out of the window? Then the play was ruined. Salome danced; the amber necklace emitted sparks and made the nipples erect. What would one not do for one’s Johannes [ed. penis]—damned, that was a disgusting obscenity, which did not come from me, but was whispered through the curtain.

The snakes were dirty, scarcely alive, they wallowed sluggishly over the floor mats. They were garnished with brilliant shards. Others looked up from the floor with red and green eyes. They glistened and whispered, hissed and sparkled like diminutive sickles at the sacred harvest. Then it quieted, and came anew, more faintly, more forward. They had me in their hand …

~~

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Jünger tickles a turtle

The Redstart

A translation by Simon Friedrich at www.ernst-juenger.org, from Ernst Jünger´s Das Abenteuerliche Herz (1929, revised 1938):

~~

“While breakfasting in the garden, I watched as a baby bird fell from the Redstart nest above my threshold and lay dead on the stone floor. Its body was still naked, and its large eyeballs shone darkly through the rosy skin. These and the wide, tightly-shut beak lent the small corpse a precocious, painful character.

The abrupt plummet from safety into nothingness was that much more forceful because in the same moment the little creature disappeared without a trace from the perception of its parents. They continued faithfully flying to and from their little nest with food for the surviving siblings, often passing close by the little dead body with not a trace of interest.

I have frequently made the observation that animals are equipped with a different, indeed a sharper perception for the living than we. For them, death very quickly transforms the body into an object; cases exist in which the parents immediately perceive the corpse of their young in its character as food. Animals thereby abide most decisively by Heraclitus’s maxim about the corpse, which it describes as rubbish and which I assume was directed against the Egyptian cult of the dead. It seems that animals do not grasp themselves as images but rather as life phenomena – one must visualize this relation as our own relationship to an electric lamp that illuminates us because, and only as long as, there is current in it.

The little incident led me to a consideration which I found a happy one, namely, that a common spirit is developed in the nest in a manner which goes beyond our imagining. Correspondingly, individuation is little developed; one must picture a little family like this as one in which what we call the individual is altogether absent. There is consequently no perception of death in our sense …

… We can be sure that the same thing is hidden in our own life. Here this is indeed the case, even if not within the family. In fact, this ancient form of blindness reigns where we would least suspect – namely where our own I is concerned. We are unable to perceive our own selves as individuals; an image of our own corpse also eludes our imagination. In our highly complex inner order, the I is the last stronghold into which this life-blindness has withdrawn; from there, it sallies forth …”

~~

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