Cappella palatina, Duomo di Monreale, Cattedrale Acireale, Cattedrale Caltanissetta, San Giuseppe dei Falegnami (Pa), Casa Professa, Duomo di Monreale.
Dove sono i mastri, gli architetti, i pittori, gli scalpellini
i mosaicisti, i maestri degli stucchi e gli intagliatori dei marmi che hanno
costruite queste chiese dove si descrivere l’onnipotenza e l’infinito ? Di loro
rimane la bellezza scioccante, la fantasiosa creazione, il sospiro
dell’eternità vestita con la perfezione. Tutte opere di in cui si
è persa la memoria degli autori, quei creatori ignoti di cui resta dolo l’abilità
di creare la bellezza, di donarci il senso dell’eterno con la sua semplice purezza,
di stupirci con la loro l’infinita continua nuova creazione. I loro eredi vivono
dietro a pile di carta, schermi onnipotenti, catene di montaggio ripetitive o
mendicano tra ecomostri e discariche un’attenzione al politico locale. Eppure,
con una perfezione essenziale abbiamo creato il sublime, abbiamo inventato l’inconcepibile
e concepito l’eterno. Unico erede dei grandi maestri, resta il vecchio
artigiano che difende l’ultimo confine tra il sublime e la barbarie, tra l’unicità
di un capolavoro e capolavori fatti in serie. Quando l’ultimo artigiano
scomparirà saremo solo scatole vuote, abili a copiare e incollare ma non ad
essere e creare perché l’arte è il sublime sono fatti dagli uomini per gli
are the masters, architects, painters, stonecutters, mosaicists, stucco masters
and marble carvers who have built these churches where to describe omnipotence
and infinity? Of them remains the shocking beauty, the imaginative creation,
the sigh of eternity dressed in perfection. All the works in which the memory
of the authors, those unknown creators whose talent is left to be able to
create beauty, to give us the sense of the eternal with its purity, and to
amaze us with their infinite continuous new creation. Their heirs live behind
piles of paper, omnipotent screens, infinite assembly lines or mendicant attention
to the local politics to create monsters or lands of wastes. However, with the
utmost perfection we have created the sublime, we invented the inconceivable
and conceived the eternal. The only heir to the great masters, remains the old
craftsman who defends the last border between sublime and barbarism, between
the uniqueness of a masterpiece and masterpieces made in series. When the last
craftsman disappears, we will only be empty boxes, able to copy and paste but
not to be and create because art and sublime are made by men for men.
1) Love Bites (So do I) by Halestorm
2) A Candlelit Dinner with inamorta by Asking Alexandria
3) New Version of You by Reel Big Fish
4) A Lesson Never learned by Asking Alexandria
5) Dead Set by Defeater
6) To Them These Streets Belong by Rise Against
7) High Road by Fort Minor
8) Take Me Down by Tonight Alive
9) Die… A LOT by Psychostick
10) Good Things by A Day To Remember
11) Have Faith In Me (Acoustic) by A Day To Remember
12) Welcome to the Family by A Day To Remember
13) Cisco Kid by Sublime
14) Never Again by Disturbed
15) Pts.Of.Athrty by Linkin Park
16) In Friends We Trust by Chunk, No! Captain Chunk!
17) Farewell to Shady Glade by Of Mice & Men
18) The Little Things Give You Away by Linkin Park
19) Boyfriend by Reel Big Fish
20) Bad Romance (Lady Gaga Cover) by Halestorm
“The subject, or soul, has perhaps been believed in more firmly than anything else on earth because it makes possible to the majority of weak and oppressed mortals of every kind, the sublime self-deception that interprets weakness as freedom, and their being thus-and-thus as a merit.”
—F. Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals: First Essay, §13 (edited excerpt).
I am in love with and in awe of D'Angelo’s new work of art, Black Messiah, and I shared a few thoughts about it on Twitter, as seen above. It is glorious. It is medicine. It is rage and it is calm. Passion. Beauty. Truth. I also mentioned last night that it feels right on time, despite the 15 year gap in album release for him. I needed this album right now, more than I knew, until I heard it…if that makes any sense. D'Angelo really has created something remarkable; feels timeless, yet acutely pertinent, like a clock set to the right time, but ticking in the past, present and future all at the same time.
I love how he described the title and direction of this art:
Black Messiah is a hell of a name for an album. It can be easily misunderstood. Many will think it’s about religion. Some will jump to the conclusion that I’m calling myself a Black Messiah. For me, the title is about all of us. It’s about the world. It’s about an idea we can all aspire to. We should all aspire to be a Black Messiah.
It’s about people rising up in Ferguson and in Egypt and in Occupy Wall Street and in every place where a community has had enough and decides to make change happen. It’s not about praising one charismatic leader but celebrating thousands of them. Not every song on this album is politically charged (though many are), but calling this album Black Messiah creates a landscape where these songs can live to the fullest. Black Messiah is not one man. It’s a feeling that, collectively, we are all that leader.
I’m not going to dissect each song right now. I’ll leave that endeavor for other writers. I don’t really have a desire for the scholarly at the moment, but instead a desire to experience something truly fresh and truly healing, in totality. I love all of the songs though; my first impression is that my favorites are “Another Life,” “Till It’s Done (Tutu),” “Really Love,” and “1000 Deaths." Like, this is all I’ll be playing for a while; real talk. Already set on my computer, tablet and phone (as seen above); ready to go! I want it on vinyl too. Perhaps as a holiday gift to myself.
You need this album. Trust me. You need this album more than you know. At least I did.❤
“It is precisely because David recognized him [Robespierre] as the incarnation of an ideal, precisely because David recognized in him "these severe forms that characterize virtue, male and sublime, of the great men of Antiquity that history consecrated for the veneration of ages,” that his impact proved to be so profound– and also, as it seems, difficult for David to shake off. […] David’s compulsive returning to the discussion of Robespierre as an object of his attachment also makes his defense appear disorganized and chaotic.. Robespierre’s prominence may be related to his central role as the figure through which the meaning of Thermidor was being developed after the coup, at the very moment when David was writing. But this does not explain why he is such a disorganizing factor within David’s speech; nor does it explain the intriguing amount of rhetorical energy David deploys to flesh out, so to speak, the Robespierre who seduced him, the possessor of “inconceivable charms,” as David puts it.“
–Ewa Lajer-Burcharth on Jacques-Louis David's Discourse, quoted from the book Necklines: The Art of Jacques-Louis David After the Terror (53). Emphasis added.
What's your opinion of Kay in this quote: "So I raped her with my music .."?
The relationship between Kay’s Christine and Erik is one of the most controversial parts of her novel, right up there with the bizarre relationship between Erik and his mother, and with good reason. IMO, Kay’s Christine is a Mary Sue character, or a version of herself that she has inserted into the text as a form of wish fulfillment. Kay is very fond of the Erik that she created (let’s be honest, he can be a very compelling character), and this tendency to fall in love with the character leads her to over-sexualize him, and to place Christine (her Mary Sue) in sexual situations with him. Because of this, she turns Erik’s composition, Don Juan Triumphant, into a piece that inspires sexual passion in Christine, and lust in Erik.
(Click here to download a PDF of Susan Kay’s Phantom, if you don’t know the section that we are referring to. I recommend that phans read Kay’s novel at least once because, love it or hate it, it is an important book in the history of the modern phandom from the 90s onwards.)
The clear difference in the relationship between Leroux’s Christine and Erik and Kay’s Christine and Erik can be seen in the respective authors’ descriptions of these characters’ reactions to the playing of Don Juan Triumphant.
Here is the experience that Leroux’s Christine describes when she hears Don Juan Triumphant, and the reaction that Erik has to her knowing that she has heard his music. Leroux!Christine’s description is far from sexual. Her experience of Don Juan Triumphant would be better described as a spiritual and emotional epiphany.
“… his Don Juan Triumphant seemed to me at first only a long, terrible, magnificent sob in which poor Erik had placed all his cursed misery.
“I recalled the notebook with its red notes and I easily imagined that this music had been written in blood. The music led me through every aspect of suffering; it took me with it into every corner of the abyss, the abyss inhabited by the ugly man; it showed me Erik dreadfully beating his poor, hideous head against the funereal walls of that hell, and fleeing there to avoid the gaze of men lest he should frighten them. Devastated, gasping, wretched, and overcome, I bore witness to the formation of those gigantic chords which made Suffering divine, and then those notes which arose from the abyss united suddenly in a prodigious and menacing flight; their whirling flock seemed to ascend to heaven like an eagle soars towards the sun. That triumphant symphony seemed to set the world ablaze, and I understood that the work had finally reached its conclusion, and that Ugliness, lifted upon the wings of Love, had dared to look Beauty in the face! I was like one intoxicated; the door separating me from Erik yielded to my efforts. He had arisen upon hearing me, but he dared not turn around.
“‘Erik,’ I cried, ‘show me your face without fear. I swear to you that you are the most sorrowful and the most sublime of men, and if Christine Daaé should henceforth tremble upon seeing you, it is because she shall be thinking of the splendor of your genius!’”
“Then Erik turned around, for he believed me, and I too, alas!… I had faith in myself… He raised his skeletal** hands towards Destiny, and he fell to his knees before me with words of love…
“…With words of love in his dead mouth … and the music had stopped…
“He kissed the hem of my dress; he did not see that I had closed my eyes.”
** Translator’s note: I believe that a typo was introduced in the 1st edition text of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra that described Erik’s hands as “déchaînées,” or “unbridled.” However, in the Gaulois text, and in the 1926 French photoplay edition text (which also corrected other 1st edition typos), this adjective is “décharnées,” or “skeletal.” I have opted to use “skeletal” here, as I believe that it is the word that Leroux intended.
Good morning Revolution:
You are the best friend
I ever had.
We gonna pal around together from now on.
Say, listen, Revolution:
You know the boss where I used to work,
The guy that gimme the air to cut expenses,
He wrote a long letter to the papers about you:
Said you was a trouble maker, a alien-enemy,
In other words a son-of-a-bitch.
He called up the police
And told’em to watch out for a guy
The boss knows you are my friend.
He sees us hanging out together
He knows we’re hungry and ragged,
And ain’t got a damn thing in this world –
And are gonna to do something about it.
The boss got all his needs, certainly,
Owns a lotta houses,
Runs politics, bribes police
Pays off congress
And struts all over earth –
But me, I ain’t never had enough to eat.
Me, I ain’t never been warm in winter.
Me, I ain’t never known security –
All my life, been livin’ hand to mouth
Hand to mouth.
We’re buddies, see –
We can take everything:
Factories, arsenals, houses, ships,
Railroads, forests, fields, orchards,
Bus lines, telegraphs, radios,
(Jesus! Raise hell with radios!)
Steel mills, coal mines, oil wells, gas,
All the tools of production.
(Great day in the morning!)
And turn’em over to the people who work.
Rule and run’em for us people who work.
Boy! Them radios!
Broadcasting that very first morning to USSR:
Another member of the International Soviet’s done come
Greetings to the Socialist Soviet Republics
Hey you rising workers everywhere greetings –
And we’ll sign it: Germany
Sign it: China
Sign it: Africa
Sign it: Italy
Sign it: America
Sign it with my one name: Worker
On that day when no one will be hungry, cold oppressed,
Anywhere in the world again.
That’s our job!
I been starvin’ too long
Let’s go, Revolution!
Poem, “Good Morning Revolution.” Published in 1932.
Just…wow. I mean…goosebumps all over my body every time I read this. When he wrote “you’re the best friend I ever had,” as if the commitment to change through collective power among the powerless is something that breathes life too…I just…I get a little emotional. That’s all. Whew.
It is no exaggeration to say that those books saved me: from a life of poverty, stress, depression and isolation. James Baldwin, one of the authors who most spoke to my spirit, once put it this way: ‘You think your pain and your heartbreak are unprecedented in the history of the world, but then you read. It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me the most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.’ That is the inimitable power of literature, to give context and meaning to the trials and triumphs of living.
Charles M. Blow
Quote from Reading Books Is Fundamental in The New York Times. It’s a beautiful essay. I can relate to growing up Black and poor and getting utterly lost and happy…and sad…and happy again, in books.