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esoteric suicide Chronicle announced ... -A story for bloggers ... MA

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R. .. L. .. FI

With the pen you gave me
handwriting in the notebook calligrams Amalfi
paper you gave me when I was given ... Tues
-fil
I return to write again in this book with squid ink.
may let her live a few hours
fire accents and metallic clamor of the bells (bass) ...
smoke-odor-club-de-rosa: the stake for which ascend ...

A half-read book

and a book half done ...

Sometimes there is nothing to say ... Nor
cranes go around every day
with their beaks and feathers
telling stories to camellias and mandarin.

write:
In this part of the blue
evaporates more slowly.

write:
I know I am well and happy (I think), with skin
moistened by the rains of spring ...

write:
Fear not, my love ...
the victim told his executioner
with open eyes flooded with tears
.

I once read that a tear to spill / Becomes the eye in a question mark ... / A tear charges forever and puts into question / all poems, sunrises slower / passionate stories we tell one day fast. / Cries and his scandal to silence the words tonight.

write:
My eyes have seen
tenderness that speaks the language of fondling,
not feel the love through touch, no ...
but by the look
confirms the reunion of our skins .

-write not to move mountains or to enter on the right foot in dictionaries and encyclopedias, nor by intellectual arrogance, curiosity existential or exit of anonymity. You are mistaken if you think that of me ... Or at this point in the reading does not know to whom I write? I'm on your left, sitting: recognize my breath (in your ear), shake me of your lashes ... I'm obsessed with calligraphy that word for days: Tues-fil ... (for days, hours, now, is, da same: we are hanging on the swing moment of our palabrasraras ) ...

write:
The cobalt blue room china
Debussy came to dinner tonight ... Spleen
in Mallorca ...

Photo: " blue pen", January 2004

Can Ringworm Be Dormant

This evening I will write about landscapes ... "Well ... also about sex and romance (but do not be alarmed, it's just an introduction).

Sunday, Mr Pau Llanes ... It's a lovely evening: bright, blue, warm ... I write after lunch generously relaxed and excited after attending while disappointed at the final race of Formula One (for TV, of course, I'm stuck in Mallorca). I prefer to write to nap.

The first thing I want to say is that I was surprised large share (the views and comments) to my last text about romance, about the "romantic professionals" ... It was a text I decided to write stimulated by one of the first comments on my stories erotic-pornographic. The comment went something like, "Yeah, funny, but what about romance? ... So I said, why do not you? ... Want romance? Well, take romanticism ... At worst I spent ... but the result of my participation as readers, I confirmed that the "theme" is in the air and everything / as they felt involved / or recognized as / as in some way ... To close the chapter I just want to own two or three points: first, that "romantic professionals" (or "emotional vampires" or "rogue sublime") there are men and women (not just a boundary condition of males), which its objectives are the same but their strategies are different, and do not necessarily belong to the age group of maturity ... I say I found true "vampires sublime" in his twenties, with experienced "romantic professional" thirty-something, with predatory forties and fifties ... The body is old, the soul.
Second: my stories were examples of sex without love ... real as life itself. And very pleasant, right? ... There is love, sex, and love without sex ... as is sex with love or without it ... Who has not had sex, just sex nothing more than sex? So I do not understand some critical comments about it ... Or is that masturbation is an act of self-esteem? I do not think it necessary to be self-love to pleasure ... not to meet with romance ... Give the body what the body needs and what you require soul-not vice versa ... ...
Finally, to those who ask me about my romantic nature or not, I advise you read my texts grouped under the themes "love" and "love" ... Pau Llanes knows and knows firsthand all that ... He loved as much as they loved, no more and no less-is and has been a lover and lover, is in love as much as you love ... What Pau Llanes required to love is to be memorable, if not, better sex, pure sex, fun, imagination and quality (and very memorable) ... Sex with love is an act of extreme generosity, mutual care and attention, shared physically and emotionally. Have sex "just sex" is something else: a pact here and now "for pleasure and, of course, an excellent pedagogical exercise between two beings who" taught "and "Learn" while they are pleased ... To have sex is required on all willing to learn as much as wanting to teach. Sexual accomplices enjoyed the most are those who give to their game without competing, sharing their skills, enjoying both surprises and the curiosity of their respective bodies. The ideal is to seamlessly switch the roles of teacher and learner / a in the sexual game ... better than nothing would have enough "expertise, experience and know-how." The best sex is obtained by applying in each situation the most appropriate method: inductive, deductive, analytical and / or synthetic. He fucks methodically, method and technique to love ... But there is no method or experience that are worth: you love holistically, in all, pure intuition ... You love even without knowing ... Knowing is not the same as knowing ... I explained it? Do you understand?

Well ... I'll tell you more: yesterday I was in the field, walking, smelling, sharing feelings with my company, collecting landscapes ... We talk a lot of writings and landscapes painted landscapes, represented as summarized in pictures. Still warm words that we said about the thoughts that led. I would like to share with you all this, you're so far away, invisible. Now I want to write about landscapes ... In principle, suspicious of the words they want it too totalizing embrace all, show everything, say everything: Art, Culture, Nature, Scenics ... How easy it would write " Everything is landscape, but it would be stupid arrogance, an assertion with no guarantee ... We need to find some effective starting point to help us build language (literature). Borges preferably made from dictionaries and encyclopedias, because there the words are arranged at least by non-contiguous lexical meanings. Me I also like to consult dictionaries, squeeze, like Borges. And among them, I declare my special admiration and trust for the Dictionary of English Use Dona Maria Moliner, almost always find an argument in their definitions enough ... Not so in this case. Most definitions and meanings of "landscape" posed Dona Maria are very partial, makes many references to rural, the countryside. However there is one that makes me think, "field considered show" ... Yes, that's talking, of landscapes to see and feel.

It occurred to me to try a proper definition sobre el paisaje que quiero regalarte: “ Paisaje: una visión fragmentada de la naturaleza y el mundo que nos rodea e incluye ”… Es decir el paisaje como algo que se ve y por supuesto se interpreta —elegimos nuestro punto de vista, los ángulos de visión, acotamos su amplitud (“enmarcamos” nuestra mirada)… Se trata de fragmentos de realidad que ordenamos, componemos, relacionamos, comparamos… Fragmentos de la naturaleza: pero no sólo la espontánea y libre, la que se entiende como no construida ni intervenida directamente por el hombre, sino también la alterada mínimamente todavía comparable en muchos aspectos a la naturaleza salvaje, o domesticada with true love and commitment (though utilities), such as the countryside, rural ... And also fragments of the world that would be the rest is not widespread nature where it appears the built, urban, inside our home territories, our houses and courtyards, parks and gardens ... A nature and a world around us and include scenes of our steps, where we walk or we move ... the vital circle radii are our eyes and feelings and mobile center axis moves, parasite, with our body ... A world-landscape-circular and includes affects us belongs to us and we belong, as a point belongs equally to its circumference and the tangent line that touches ...

is clear that this idea about the landscape of a deep conviction: " The landscape is human, or it is not ." What I mean is that the landscape exists only insofar as it is seen, read and interpreted, on the contrary nature, the world still exist even without our views and interpretations. The landscape is a state only circumstantial, not essential in nature ... as human landscapes are inhabited, have been or will be inhabited. And inhabit a landscape view only, our eyes are a prosthesis, our machines to record and play, the physiological prosthesis prosthesis. We hope and we do everything possible to save his features sketches from life, photos, videos, those written pen flies, Intangible invent mnemonics before they disappear their ephemeral sensations, perhaps with the secret intention of restoring his magic feelings that we moved ... Oh, those memories so volatile, so distracted by anything that mingle with them, sharing their secrets with total promiscuity. If not for the pictures, those things that fill the museums, books, libraries, our life of street vendors, everything would be unsolvable chaos of confused memories, to the wishes ... more hopeful would only forgotten memories.

But make no mistake: there is no image that represents the whole world. Like the art is not a facsimile of the world nor is a landscape. I repeat: what we see and select fragments of nature and the world around us is only an interpretation, a visual representation from a particular viewpoint poor-all view has specific space and time coordinates, interim, we move too ... Maybe this fragility of reality referred to, nature "seen and interpreted" in his landscapes, shocked the art and look into this subject-subject. Art has always wanted create lasting images, including iconic signs that we chained to his memory in perpetuity. For that it had rid of insignificant details, the lengthy descriptions, analytical sciences traps and optical physics. The vision of art is more of a pure interpretation of extrasensory perception that a strict sense ... It is rather a suspicion that something invisible inside or beyond what you see ... You know, I've said on other occasions that I represent symbolically the Arts through a lattice, which reveals and obscures, and dramatize a scene of jealousy when I want to know and it hurts know ... Anyway, do not follow this path, you see where I can bring my passion for landscapes, for their performances: far, far away, up, perhaps in the clouds and fog ...

All landscape is subjective - necessity as the "I" which aims to identify with him, a pure interpretation ... " The eye is blind art," he said with obvious exaggeration Gombrich. Neither of the landscape can a purely physical. It is not possible a hypothetical mechanical look devoid of intent, pure and uncontaminated memory, memories, which is absent the power of imagination. The look of the landscape, as in art, is subjective ... often confuse what is merely a visual recognition with the pure knowledge (scientific or otherwise), which has led to multiple and persistent errors and paradoxes of reality. What we see is only a partial fragment of a more complex reality, just a poor stimulus in a given context, we discover not always naive and autonomously but rather the contrary. Usually we consider the sense of sight as the first and most immediate of our senses, we communicate more effectively with the outside world, but this is not true. Looking, seeing and knowing intermingle dangerously, sometimes contradictory when vibrate at will, unsupportive ...

Many of our ideas and beliefs backed only by the sense of sight are superficial appearances of image, mental constructs visual models from given, made and learned without reservation. It is seen that in addition to any landscape should be read: it is a visual text that requires its own code of interpretation of reality, a complex transcription system linking seemingly disparate forms and contents, including exceptions, something like a foolproof formula for order the world in all its facets and possibilities, but in its way, as their home language. Since the destruction of the Tower of Babel interprets each world as he gives his speech, which explains the cultural conventions, aesthetic, nothing universal, leading to the painted landscapes of East and West, the divergent trends particular to this era of globalization alleged differentiation and generic ...

- Go ! I've been through ... I've written too much, how long have I done wrong ... Well, another day I'll write a bit more of my favorite landscapes, those that I was collecting for my life of compulsive traveler, nomad, vagabond, before finally meet when and where ... Where are you? Please send me your favorite landscape; descríbemelo or give me one of your images, you may well find you more easily and begin to live, to inhabit, even in your absence ... I'll wait here while you rid of your baggage useless ... Do not delay. Or think that I've read all the way until the last three dots ...

Photos: The Series "Landscapes of Mallorca " January-July 2004

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On "romantic professionals" and its dangers ...

Have you ever met a / the romantic / professional in your life? Sure ... there are everywhere, have a special smell to sniff existential tragedies, moments of weakness ... Of course not all "romantic" are "romantic professionals, their typology is very diverse, most are harmless, even intimate: the" melancholy ", the" literary " the "aesthetic", the "love of love", etc., is the "professionals" who you have to save, they are dangerous, can hurt you much damage if you let them into your life and "Okuparte" no solution ... I will define and describe above such a romantic, that you care ...

But before I sign up something about the romance lest we confuse the words and make a mess ... one thing to have romantic impulses from time to time, idealized love living situations, like a novel - " roman" in French - and another thing to live in a permanent state ... We are all romantic romantic functional, but some are in need ... and among them some by trade ... One thing is "to be" romantic and a "being" romantic ... Being romantic is abandoned to unknown, the unconscious, the irrational. It's a mood that is experienced with total delight, without reservation or subterfuge, enjoying every moment of a sort of existential shipwreck where reality drifts and crashed into the ridge threat of life ... Usually, for a romantic does not fit the hypothesis that there may be "a today, "an immediate reality, which may be considered cause for concern or wishes to look forward. Only last-remembered bitterly and future, always uncertain, miserable and terrible senses, have the dignity and gravity enough to be taken into account, move him ... His tragedy is not confined to the narrow knowing their territories memory-chewed-and desire-volatilization, both agonizing and abysmal ... can not live real time, that is, who should share with "others." The romantic aims to resolve their distress, to be saved, not just a moral commitment that will reconcile with their time and others ... It is a selfish character and need-is-nature, isolated and timeless ...

The "professional romance "is a perversion of Romanticism, its most pathological and harmful. First is a show that requires exceptionally gifted actors to self-pity and loneliness. His characters spend all their time bemoaning the injustice, villainy, inevitable adversities of fate ... So many times have tested the loyalty and love of his victims in the end only have been by his side treachery and indifference of her lovers ... you'd better not even to these buffoons suicide of love ... so apparently owners themselves, as actors. Suicide is a pretext that is written, he admits with tears in their eyes, threatens, but has never taken seriously on the lips of these tricksters feelings. Suicide is a last resort it does requires some kind of remorse ... "rather than the romantic suicide is not willing to suffer, anything that is not strictly governed by its advantageous contract with life.

For those who believe that humanity is stupid, to be "professional romantic is your best option. No one is more ambitious and ruthless than those romantic. His apparent and well-studied self-destructive character reduced to rubble all the illusions of those who had the temerity to pity them and try their salvation. The proverbial greed to possess that betrays the spirit of these patients is matched only by his natural disposition to leave battered all those souls who have thumbed and squandered. And do not mind having lost everything, on the contrary ... this destitution, this folly, are convinced that they got it appease his anxiety, at least momentarily before equip new horrors, more subtle desecration in the naivety of his victims ...

The "romantic professional" claims for itself all the affection and tenderness that come out to meet him, not deserve. Makes them unlikely traps, illusions comfortable lies we entangle and confuse any idiot who has tried to save with his piety and ridiculous hope. With the Romantics do not play or may suffer as a joke. Your most effective strategy is to make us believe they need our love, our admiration freed from suspicion ... they say we are the only safe haven in which to deposit their solemn confessions ... much falsehood and cunning to be loved for who only aspires to hate later after his treason ... What perverse intelligence, god ... so refined And what a pleasure to conquer back the trust of someone who has left (only on a whim, without the least regard his bitterness) to multiply their suffering to the absolute limits in fear of a final and definitive abandonment ... - remember the book, film, Havoc ? The victims of a "professional romantic" survive unfortunately suffering from fear to love forever ...

The "romantic professional "lives in a continued indifference camouflaged studied fine words and caresses. There is nothing more despicable than a love poem written by such mercenary meanness, nor as painful as the memory of her orgasms. Delicious orgasms and words of a romantic seductive open scars, tears acids that leave intact with no cure time, for which no use the mock heroic revenge or forgetting. How to make love, as he writes of love, a "professional romantic!" Romantic

These predators are masters in the art of believing their lies. Nobody will ever know when they suffer or enjoy really. Their throats strung laughter and groans with the same sound ... They say oh, what a pain! as they might say "I love you" or "I'm the happiest person in the world" ... Its sentimentality is a narcotic anesthetic for the victims and prevents them from escaping while there is time. Exude a powerful drug that bittersweet sentimental, propagated by tongues and ears, numbs the senses, mostly common sense ... A whisper, just a syllable, can topple the strongest human architecture and the strongest of wills. Seduced by the voice of a passionate and romantic look is known for its unhappy sooner or later, all its own, humiliated ... No no one deserves such a sacrifice, not even who made you dream of truth for the first time ... The end of the dream is a miracle that suicide is not worth it ... do you? ... Love is something else ... right?

Drawing: the "Book of Hours " , 1991-92

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As promised ... Portico two erotic stories after my conversations on aesthetics ... Sorry for the frivolity: it is spring ... Adventure

As promised and who Forewarned is forearmed ... I wore a long wanted to publish some erotic cartoon, even slightly pornographic and could not find time ... certainly did not want to be understood as a frivolity, which meant my blog's eyes any funny how erotic stories blog ... I enjoy reading from time to time erotic stories, I find them without much effort each time you walk through the worlds of blogs and blogging community, enjoy them ... For a while I even videos and collector DVD's pornographic paradoxically intellectuals ... But I must confess that I have much respect for erotic literature, and look what I've read, from my venerable Marquis de Sade to Almudena Grandes and Eduardo Mendicutti, Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin, all Bukovsky and Jean Genet, Alberto Ruy Sanchez and Melissa Panarello, a Kawabata, Osvaldo Lamborghini and Diamela Eltit the Satyricon of Petronius and the Boccaccio's Decameron, the Story of O Dominique Aury, the most erotic, the better, in my opinion, ... and even Joyce's love letters, among other gems ... But I can hardly write an erotic sex story explicit, I confess ... must be because the typical words from any fairly descriptive erotic story: if you make love or fuck or fuck ... if pussy, cock, penis or vagina or shell or any of the synonyms and neologisms that named our genitals and their physical contiguity or lexical, who cares ... if tit and ass poto, that if inserted or removed, suck, sucking or enter ... and many others that make up the thesaurus words specialized resource for any story erotic or pornographic ... It is not self-respecting modesty, that I have not more than necessary, and in my case is very little that I have to social shame ... I do not know why but I do not feel comfortable writing erotic stories porn erotic passages ... "yes, notes, feelings, moments, improvisations ... I think in erotica, which I like and better defines me is to write erotic haiku I am a collector of erotic kind of bonsai ... One of these days I am to read some examples ... OK?

Well, here I am again in the view of your comments (with little letters or silent, it does not matter) ... Two erotic pornographic stories that make up a leaflet, which is how I like to represent love and eroticism, remember for example that I consider my best story written for this blog: Story of a love that survived lived a few hours and a lifetime ... The first one I started writing a few years ago as a somewhat exaggerated version of an autobiographical episode, it was not exactly in a supermarket, that image gave me another erotic story I read then, but the sequence of events was very similar which describe ... The second is very recent, almost when I started writing this blog. Both have tweaked and adopted this format in which we read: small and saving unnecessary passages ... I do not know why, but the second I feel more intimate than the first, and that it is an exercise in descriptive detail details, perhaps also more mine - is it because the tone decidedly ironic? What things have mimesis, projecting and recognize the other ...

I think it's the right time to make them read collectively, have been stoic throughout an initiation into the deserts of aesthetics after reading "bareback" My last three supplies about art, beauty, etc. You have qualms (I guess) of all these quotations and reflections of Plato and Aristotle, Kant and Hegel, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Lyotard and many others ... I have accompanied during the writing of death, life and maceration desire ... on utopias and atopy ... communed with me and Bruno Llanes and even shared our mystical journey, our existential exile, also Tuaregs in your own way ... So you deserve a break, sure two stories are inconsequential ... ... perhaps what better to think about them is that they are fun, or what seem to me ... "the amor y el erotismo deben ser divertidos, dar risa, dibujar sonrisas, o no hay quien los aguante… No creo que resistan la criba estrictamente literaria cuando decida antologizarme; pero de lo que estoy seguro, absolutamente seguro, es que cuando vayáis al supermercado, por el sector de frutas y verduras, y veáis un hombre o una mujer que os mira con cierto descaro, recordareis esta aventura erótica de Pau Llanes… —qué cosas tiene la literatura… Ojalá algún día alguien me pregunte si soy Pau Llanes mientras hago la compra dos veces por semana en Mercadona… Eso es mejor que el Cervantes… ¡Feliz día del Libro, de la lectura! Rose=Eros para ti…

Los dos relatos Adventure erotic cannibal in the supermarket I and II the can then read below in previous post ... I have made and for your comfort ... first one and then the other, of course ... lol

Photo: " fruit and vegetable market in Belem, Brazil, April 2006

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cannibal in the supermarket ... (I)

spent per rack of fruit juices where the cart refused to walk. A wheel was jammed into a bag of muffins that gutted a kid, I thought, unconscious or mischievous, I would have thrown to the ground. I bent over to fix the problem, threw aside the dough report, and it stood me ... when suddenly something stopped me and fixed my attention immediately: it was the butt of a woman in front of me leaned back to me ... your panties was green moss and half auburn hair with golden highlights ... Even I was surprised at my surprise stun ... so much so that I knew not look askance at it with eyes wide open.

curves of her butt, her thighs, causing me delicious erotic sensations. He wore a short skirt, clearly insufficient to contain the consistent roundness of her buttocks, stand the strain of his carefree gesture to move the body into the container of frozen seafood - or was a shelf with cans of supply? (I can not remember the details, so long ago) ... In this awkward position, his legs seemed really beautiful and endless. Even without seeing her face, I wanted to imagine extremely attractive, sure not mistaken. In this was, to invent their beauty, when the woman turned her face to me and sneered at by guessing my thoughts. Then I felt ashamed before her almond brown eyes ... "could also have been moss green, I thought then. I was caught red-handed, oh, my wondrous imagination between his thighs ... Determined, headed toward the section of detergents. For my part, once recovered from this unexpected erotic impact and still feeling a bit ridiculous for this release looks uneven, I returned to the priorities of my shopping list and headed to the shelf of jams ...

We met again Ten minutes later the post of fruits and vegetables. I fingered the hardness of some peaches when she, a little further, prepared to weigh a bunch of bananas from the Canary Islands ... Absent the shop, took one of those elongated yellow fruits, peeled it with unabashed ease and gave a furtive bite. A second later his eyes again to meet mine, now it was me who caught her in a clandestine ceremony and enjoyable ... but far from flinching, this beautiful woman (who was, more than I had imagined) began to steal the banana with his lips, his mouth walked up and down the elongated fruit already bitten while squinted in apparent ecstasy. It was obvious that more than excited-to-play did seduce me again my view, to stimulate my imagination again ... Then it was me who turned around and walked away, convinced this attitude keep my dignity and restore in perspective that contempt with which I had given him a while ...

Circle with the cart to reach the opposite end of the supermarket. Still confused and disoriented by those encounters with the unknown woman mahogany gold-green moss, bought food to cook in the microwave though I have broken a couple of months, six cans of diet soda, though the hate-and five dozen clips Clothesline ... among other unnecessary and excessive. In this was, in my daze, I felt a strong impact of someone pushing me with cart and all to an open door leading to the interior of the super store ... It was she, this woman of my latest desires and troubles, that frantic and impatient lunged me with all his body and the average store in your car, both

unstoppable ... Crossing the threshold of the store, luckily stumbled and fell on some large sacks of beans and vegetables ... beans, eggplants, cucumbers, lettuce, zucchini, Tudela lettuce hearts, cushioned unexpected that defeat our bodies, almost buried alive in the darkness of the rear storage ... I could not see, but I felt her hot body on mine. By instinct, not tumble to the ground, I held it to a rounded ... I thought it was a shoulder, then a calf, a breast, I do not know ... to realize at last that was one of her buttocks, a part of your ass, now a tight and tense, barely caught by her panties (moss green, I remembered) ... I was afraid for a moment that someone had seen us enter super stealthy and disorderly to the store ... but my fear vanished immediately to separate her legs with my head ... The aroma of those vegetables were lovely and exciting: I kissed those thighs to the English, nibbled nails and the curly endive salad while edges with the edges of my tongue her panties and felt the delicious friction of his bristly hairs and the saltiness of your skin crawl ...

I turned his body, or I do not know what I did ... and pulled down or up, her panties at one time ... in front of my blindness I smelled of sex open, moist, deep ... Recalling the episode of the grocery store section, I began to revel in this feast imaginable fruit: figs, strawberries, tangerines, kiwis, apricots, persimmons fresh and hard ... My lips caressed and kissed her other lips ... my tongue was busy in that labyrinth of folds and nooks delicious ... my mouth drank juices more intimate ... "How strange, suddenly all know my memories of strawberry, strawberry smell, until I have strawberry seeds between my teeth still now ... After a while, or too long nor too short, she began to squeeze as much as my head with her legs until she sobbed in an apparent orgasm that almost cost me my life, such was the power of her thighs and the extraordinary cup of choking ... The open sex pleasure beautiful woman shipwrecked in a sea of \u200b\u200bvegetables ... Surgi

of sex and plenty of green beans for air ... my lover unknown hugged and kissed on their upper lips still intact and put your calves on my shoulders ... while she undressed I do not know how ... A this stage of our adventure and little we care if there was someone around or if we watched from the shadows of that dark room of our love unexpected. I slowly penetrating her wet depths, soft yet decided ... In this tunnel of her femininity with pleasure I moved, I brushed, caressed, I left and went with generosity and exquisite timeliness, I think I stayed at their most hidden and secret passageways She guided me, I was obedient, trainee teachers of their movements ... So I was on a gustito ... when we falter in our support plants, rolling almost land on eggplant, artichokes, lettuce and God knows that other species of the garden ... I could barely cling to her hips and her arms around my neck ... not holding our caution and with greatest pleasure of our bodies ... What a fantastic slip on these green quicksand!

We were both face to face, barely illuminated by the faint reverberations of the visor from emergency light ... I stroked his hair, he retreated behind his forehead, we smile ... Then she took my sex with his hands, began petting and rubbing it with the rhythm that I love, soft but strong ... bent down and took him in her lips ... up, down ... with increasing energy ... sometimes it spoiled with the tip of the tongue ... again reminded of the scene greengrocers, her mouth, playing with the Canary banana ... their bites ... I felt the wet touch up all stiff and my sex drive to power is not ... "I confess that I experienced in your mouth cannibal unknown limits of sensuality and pleasure, no one had eaten so far with so delicate gluttony, hungry for soul, the tenderness of his language ... I could not help, even unintentionally, by instinct, kind of went out of his mouth and pulled her back towards me hard, thrusting south of her body ... she expected me wide open, sex still flooded ... We shook furiously, we squeeze the soul while our bodies excited almost suicidal vertigo of the abyss ... Of We pour a blow, everything ... "well, love, I said, I said, so ... give it all, Take everything, so" ... and my body and shook in chills and fevers without interruption by the echo cheered scandalous our cries ... She shouted something in a foreign language as she jumped with her ass sure about my sex still powerful and hugged my neck ... I already lived for her breasts, drinking them hope: the squeezing solicitous, thirsty sucking, biting my lips with your nipple, either randomly, with the last strength I had left ... In one of those spasms uncontrollable crush a few boxes of cookies over which we had fallen at last ...

rested for a few minutes and gutted report that bed, in silence ... We stroked the tip of the buds, elbows, armpits, neck, knees, the tip of the nose ... Then we dress in a hurry, worried then, what I could get mad, someone in the warehouse devastated by the hurricane of our desire ... I recognize that touched me to see my cat lover fit-moss green panties before my astonished eyes of much sensuality ... was an intimate act that made with confidence, decorating it with a smile of angel ... "Undoubtedly the most beautiful climax as possible to our love affair ... We left the store dark one after the other, and combed ... She said in a role-name-Véronique and a phone number ... I gave it and said goodbye with a rogue kiss on the cheeks, still warm ... We smelled ... keep our smells in deep memory ... As he walked away, turned his face and smiled at me again ... I threw a kiss with the tips of my fingers ...

Since then, every evening, around six-thirty, more or less, Veronique and I are in any mood Mercadona before we devour deliciously where our imagination has agreed ... What anger there Sunday every week of our lives ... Every Sunday cannibal, fast ... what remedy ...

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Aventura cannibal in the supermarket ... (II)

had just put in the cart four boxes of fruit juice and walked without quickly to the section of fresh seafood while watching distracted shelves tomato sauce, crushed tomatoes, peppers, piquillo peppers and canned, then all those packets or bottled sauces: pesto, Bolognese, carbonara, bechamel , blue cheese, guacamole, Romesco sauce, curry, cocktail sauce, Chutney ... and mayonnaise and mustard ... How many bottles, how many bottles, I thought, and what combinations of fish rich I will buy and shellfish ... ummm ... I hope to find fresh fish, no frozen, for giving me this weekend, alone at last, in my house ... Oh , how I love these flavors of sea salt in my mouth and play with chopped hard enough and consistent, some cold, others warm, navigate them with my tongue and my mouth before chewing and squeezing definitely on my palate ... I ummm ... " mouth watered, salted saliva was overflowing, so much gastronomic pleasure with only imagine ... That's what it was when I stood at a low ledge with large baskets metal cans and stacked more cans of tuna and mackerel natural, mussels in a sauce for scallops, squid and chopitos in olive oil, sardines and sardines, and do not know how many specialties of a well-known brand that had recently closed after a strike too wild , I read in the newspapers ... Good! Were 50%, two with the same type and quality ... I started to scramble to make matches, but how uncomfortable these baskets as low ...

was so inclined, digging, when I sensed the eyes of someone walking behind my skin legs from the ankles to the rounded tops of my thighs, my ass is ... I remembered wearing a skirt too short, yes, perhaps too short for these exercises within the wire baskets ... Suddenly a sudden monsoon heat and a slight earthquake from the center of my belly, unexpected, agreed to move me and get me Happy bewildered reverie in which I was: I burned the skin and legs trembled only imagine the look imaginary ... "but if it was just a hunch ...

however prolonged a little on my posture, force it, shaking slightly my skirt small blade to see if their flapping fanning my butt and gave a respite to my skin red, needed relief for my legs ... then experienced the sweet sensation, the tense calm after the first thunder of the storm, and I liked feeling behind observed: while wearing the look of a man undresses her eyelashes ... She was beautiful that evening, with freshly washed hair, well groomed and shiny my golden, with the skirt I had bought in Caramel that I feel great ... A skirt enough, neither too short nor long, at this point in my thighs where I know men into the Void or perch on my breasts in a pis pas ... Oh, and the sandals of leather strips stamped with the wedge Japanese cheetah and a bracelet of beads on the ankle ... My belly quivered-ay, I thought, thong panties green moss ... And I felt this (yet) imaginary eyes bathed in salty sea, swam to the surface of my skin surfing on the waves of my flushing sweat ... "what ... do not know what to do ... I'll give me-and, if" he "- a little more time, I thought ... I wanted to imagine how keen were his eyes, how far they had come in his daring, if they were old or inexperienced, bright like the sun or off like stars in the fog ... I could not take it any more my curiosity and I turned suddenly to a neck twisting violently shaking my hair as do half the girls in Playboy documentary "I'm sure that could still be slow to appreciate some microscopic debris shedding shampoo on my hair waves displayed in a delicate fractal reflections

iriscentes ... Yes, a man: "he" was looking at me-I sensed, sensed, are things we do not know why women ... "Now what " ... I said to my eyes ... The challengers hers were open so absurd, surprised by my reaction, so expectant ... he almost runs but feel shame and ridicule and Desojo between my thighs ... I kept my eyes a few seconds as I could, more by curiosity than desire for torturing and pay their gall, I do not feel uncomfortable with the stranger ... He was a man mature but young-looking, short beard, strong neck, deep eyes, of medium height and athletic build, wearing a casual black sweater and pants, khaki canvas ... - "Not bad chicken," he said, not forgive her gaze ... and went on my way as if nothing ... If fate wills it and we will meet later, anywhere, anytime I left it ...

fish and shellfish for later and turn to the section of detergents, neutral and secure more than crawfish, lobsters, clams, razor clams, shrimp and tuna red Mediterranean Denia ... Among the detergents, softeners and bleaches are not stopped thinking about the unknown - "What a cheek , I like " ... I knew we would find, rehearsing what she would say ... So I missed a heartbeat the minute rambling in my imaginary questions and answers . Until I saw him again at the grocery store ... oh, what luck, the greengrocer ... He was fiddling around peaches and then it occurred to me cause without mercy ... I took a bunch of bananas in the Canary Islands and was even in sight. Before depositing them on the automatic scale took one, the largest, and began to peel and distracted, only gnaw the tip, then holed out more strongly all over his hard body ... I shuddered deliciously curved aware of what he did Self bristled my nipples, I enjoyed the fruit as much as I looked pleased "my" weird ... But what rabies in the blink of an eye (even higher) warned surprised he was leaving, he gave me back ... Now I felt ridiculous in a banana almost entirely in my mouth and overflowing their shattered husks my bare hand, fist in face ... Another storm

monsoon heat and stirred another earthquake inside my body and my skin turned red ... but not only embarrassed because of embarrassment or slight ... I felt the need to have this man, if you know any other man, that evening in the supermarket ... No more questions, playgrounds and naive-how naughty erotic game that excited me, more than never have imagined ... stunning, urgency, stress, blindness, desire ... and I do not know ... She was determined to finish like god what he had started a while ago, even against my will ... It would be gluttony, lust, do not know ... or all the capital sins in unison by Mercadona walking free ... " but such as I do "I told myself convinced ..." will know firsthand how dangerous and deadly it is to open Pandora's box of a woman like me, and more in spring "he warned quietly," be memorable or not ", concluded with a mantra ...

Near the meat and sausage section I found an open door leading into the store. Imagine that careless opening immediately gave a paradise just walked in darkness, full of corridors and secret chambers where they lost, a labyrinth of boxes and vegetable beds where lie, a fantastic machine sensations, smells melting and mixing with those of our skin and breathing out their most intimate sex perfumes ... And so, without thinking twice, I went straight snatched into the older man and hit him with my car while taking him by the arm and dragged into the sanctuary without words, what ... Inside, stumble or do not know if I pushed him, overwhelming and out of my boxes. Fortunately we fell on some large sacks of beans and vegetables that cushioned whack sure it was like a huge bed with cushions and pillows of eggplant, lettuce, endive, zucchini ... a bed of lentils and beans from La Granja, far from bothering me all my muscles massaged with unusual effectiveness before Battle of bodies that he wanted out and relentlessly pitched ... I hugged him with all my limbs (do not know how many I lost count), what caught my web of bristly hairs, to make fire rubbing me with your knees thighs ... Oh, I grabbed his ass with his hands, what happiness ... how I like my butt is transformed into an ass out in full by the grace of hands of a man ... "Why some men magi ...

In a moment I felt the sex drive of my grip on my belly and mine throbbed rhythmically under the little dress, smooth and hard, too, growing inward, within meat ... I felt even sighing when the small triangle ripped my panties kept green moss, so to speak, my threshold more closely ... I shivered, I shuddered a little, and I could not help but give myself completely to the touch (to yours mine) with all the powers of my skin and my membranes ... My mouth went straight to his mouth, accurate ... It was a wise mouth, hot, full of teeth Snapper and a decidedly tongue-invasive, but soft, slightly sweet ... my lips She sipped the last drop of silicone (it's a metaphor, of course) ... Meanwhile, our fingers were doing and melted in the dark traps and Solomon knots if anything, sometimes were claws, other vines ... rugs were flying down to our senses

runaway ... One of these fell on his back a box of fruit, light, I thought it was unfazed ... taunted him and discovered that they were strawberries - Ubrique, deduced by their texture, smooth and hard ... I took one for the green tail and put it in my mouth to share with my lover ... ummm, what we were hungry, God ... Then I took one more giant, and it fits into the small threshold of my most intimate recess, with a strong pull head down I invited him to a delicious feast of strawberries, did not I need to explain further, understand this act wisely and proceeded to devour a cannibal, what teeth ... He removed the useless tail with its white atrocities and made the whole strawberry in my body opening wide my mouth with his big no less large under his mustache ... What a delight, came and went with precise rhythm, time and again through the power piston after his tongue ... depriving ate it whole for a moment that sweet medley of fruit and despachurrada-how empty, if only for a moment ... I do not know if out of compassion or greed again until you get me his tongue more power while drinking our fruit juice and any sink marks macerated flesh of my sex ... He drank it, ate it all, what this man ...
hunger
At this point I was a sea all sweet and red, impossible to cross without being drowned forever ... I could not contain the tsunami was coming, and wanted stronger ... I took his head with my hands and my thighs ... apres-throttling, which rich orgasm I will have, if I know ... oh, what a silly posturita ... It was intense, integral, a real orgasm in the ovaries and even their language ... I wanted to enter my climb up inside my womb, to stay there forever, yes, I know, that's always a tell-or at least not retire in a couple of hours ... ummm ... did not, was the best he did in his life without knowing it ...

For the first time we look straight in the eye with no other excuse to do dumb and still we smile ... We undressed fast and experienced, well, what was left to undress ... I put the vertical legs holding the sky and immediately entered me as if he knew the way of leftovers, which decision on my part ... I also got my fingers into her sweet mouth sucking thanked me hungry to the bone ... was in and out as his house -do squat, sir, "... sometimes strong, sometimes softly, a slow, other accelerated ... was a delirium ... well, my recent orgasm stretched and multiplied with each of his shock ... I squeezed her breasts like oranges Xativa , round and stiff, all juice ... and I pinched her nipples that seemed small clitoris and liked, how he liked ... What it came through my valleys flooded by the most narrow canyons of my inland rivers, what a pleasure when I touched the bow of his boat ... Oh, I was running again, even better, had not stopped running or wet with his tongue nor with his sword of fire ... "oh, again," ... what a silly posturita ... - " we ", " we ", " give it all," he said, and in words, in French Martinique ...

This was again shaken when I do not know how we took a tumble and fell over the side of our makeshift bed-what orgasm, what ostia, sir, had it not been for those bags of vegetables from the garden ... Luckily I had taken a microsecond before ... The poor do not, I was scared face, but neither he looked in his sex-how brave this ship and its crew ... So I began to reward him for his bravery, his decision pirate ... I took it between my lips and went at once to my deep throat, how rich, how stiff the tip ... I spoiled my tongue with my teeth corrected deviations, up and down, eating bananas as the Canaries, so sweet, as your tongue ... do you liked, what we liked, both charismatic cannibal ... His pace quickened in each feed-compulsive recognized those movements that precede the rapture of a male, I am now ready to drink you to the last drop ... how delicious ... Your sex also knew strawberry ...

But no, my victim was cold and lechecita blood was not yet ready for luck ... He left his rich muscle in my mouth without violence, on the contrary, and pulled me towards him again, entered from below ... I sex there with my open-to and do not know when it was a free port for this host-trimmed beard, since then hydrated and oiled, their orders and dictates ... I entered with a single sweep in fencing and I grabbed her neck to avoid falling into that abyss of Rumbled unbelievable feeling ... My ass began to move around and up and down your mast, then the center of our universe, his hands guided me ... We shook with rage, we crushed what was left of us, jaleábamos each in his language: " Go, go, go, love ... give it all, take it all ... well, a little more, do not miss anything, we'll run, yeah, yeah, and ... and ... god, love "..." and our bodies melted in an inextricable embrace, consumed by the same warmth, coupled our groans could not and a straw between his belly and mine (and for what we were going to put a straw in this situation now? "what things have the literature ... For that, we ran and shuddered with huge thrill ... More than a little death gives us a stream of life ... "was missing us, I think today ...

rested for a few minutes and gutted report that bed, in silence ... We stroked the tip of the buds, elbows, armpits, neck, knees, the tip of the nose. Then we dress in a hurry, worried then that could get someone in that warehouse devastated by the hurricane of our desire as I could ... I adjusted my moss green thong before their astonished eyes ... I did it as the climax of our adventure and gift to your eyes, an intimate act, testimonial, happiness, do less ... In the end it had all started out by looking at my panties, do not you? ... We left the store one after the other, already dressed and combed ... I stared for a few seconds seemed like an eternity and found I had different colored eyes, one blue and one brown dark hazel, I moved that look so uneven, I enamored as I watched ... I pointed my name on paper -Véronique, and my phone number ... I took with a sweet smile and said goodbye with a rogue kiss on the cheeks, still hot, burning ... We smelled ... I still have the smell, the smell, deep in my memory ... While I walked away, I turned my face and my smile gave him naked. He gave me a kiss with the tips of his fingers precisely what I did in the middle of the target of coeur - and I said gravely, confident: "My name is Pau , forget me not" ...

Since then, every evening, around six-thirty, more or less Pau and I met at a grocery before deliciously devour our imagination has agreed ... What anger there Sunday every week of our life cannibal. Every Sunday, we fast ... Well, never mind, it occurred to me how to work around this nonsense. I found a 24 hours in Santa Catalina and I have agreed with the owner to turn a blind eye on Sunday when we go shopping (now together hand in hand) ... How happy is going to be Pau Sunday eat only sweets and pastries ... Yes, I know, Pau is a diabetic ... but I'm your insulin: nothing better than having me hand forever ... "Oh, yes, sorry," always "is a flirtation ... lol ... So what ... I do not care what Kundera wrote The Unbearable Lightness of Being about flirting ... Ours is Cannibal Love ...

Wicker Baby Showe Chair

third and final conversation about aesthetics ... "I promise that tomorrow I will write two stories erotic ... Will you come?

The aesthetics of the twentieth century favored the psychological dimension of art and beauty more than speculate about the intrinsic nature of the work of art, the authors have preferred to consider the experience of the observer in such Indeed, their interpretation and subjective vision, to Learning-up some extent, inherited from Romanticism. This conception "experiential" art relates Heidegger, considered one of the main features of modern society. Yet Heidegger also found in more essentialist contributions, not as "hands" with respect to art. For Heidegger, there is the artist, there's work and of course there is art, a third element through which both claim. This approach, seemingly innocent, is intended to "break the specularity metaphysics between the object and the subject ." The art is not limited to the subjectivity of the artist and is not entirely objective in their creation. The Art refers to a "way of being ." Of course that works of art are "things" like other ordinary things, but these things are not exhausted by its mere nature of things. Heidegger begins by admitting that the work of art is one thing to get something added, a supplement that makes it an allegory or a symbol of something else. " Things are much closer to us than any feeling." Never hear "pure noise" but the creaking of the hinges of a window, the engine of a car, the cat's meow. We must try to find the point at which the thing itself lies. " Things in their insignificance, seem reluctant to be thought. And just in this resistance, in this book that Heidegger wants to find its essence. " has been the work of art" says Heidegger which made us know what is really a shoe "(...)" The play is not playing the singular entity that is present at all times, but the reproduction of the general nature of things . "

Nietzsche was one of the main references of the thought of Heidegger, and the first to make a forceful critique of romantic thought without falling into the positivist bias of the time. Perhaps Nietzsche's main contribution to the history of thought, let alone that of "being and being in the world" was the concept of nihilism. Nihilism, loss of sense of values, as defined by Nietzsche, would be the essential thrust of the story, the necessary condition of historical development: "What does nihilism ?: That the highest values \u200b\u200bhave lost their value. Missing the target, missing the answer to why . " Does this intuition about the lack of values \u200b\u200bhas something to do with the abandonment of the path of truth, beauty, art? Art is, for Nietzsche, a "religion of the appearance . " Appearance is not the opposite of the truth, but its expression. What appears, the surface-has a metaphysical depth. Art does not want to impose their constraints, does not "know" or want "direct" only wants things to each and every one of them, may be ... The art world stops copy-or-tune with Transamund to become a "model for life." Art, for Nietzsche, is the force antinihilista par excellence, is the "will of party " endlessly stimulating life. Towards religion, which revolves around the "devotion", art prompts "creation" ... This is a creative process to some extent dying, always turning on itself. Constantly questioning ... and always ironic (conscious of his own inability to answer fully) ...

nihilism must be considered as a historical process, the devaluation of the values \u200b\u200bconsidered so far, at all times, as supreme principles holding what authorities if they have, everything that serves as a model of what it is, is it true, beautiful and good. Rather than declining, the movement of devaluation would be to Nietzsche the same legitimacy of Western history, internal logic. The world does not disappear with the devaluation of what constituted the highest values, new values \u200b\u200bappear. The denial of old values \u200b\u200bis the affirmation of new values, a "revaluation" of previous values \u200b\u200b... This nihilism tragic that the world does not seek to recover its value: it is not in the new establishment of values, replacing old with new, but to make an investment in the mode value, a change in sensibility, an aesthetic transformation or revolution ...

With Nietzsche art ceases to be fun, virtuous, exemplary ... Art does not have to beautify the world, but merge into him once back in spirit to the body, so long differentiated ... Faced with the bourgeois frivolity of an "art for art's sake, we now recognize an insubordinate art which gives our images look human, too human, in this state of being" in and "the world, seeking beauty, express it, no longer an exercise in cruelty ... This disobedience to the bourgeois taste of art, power, explain the interest of the" ruling right-thinking, "what we now call" political correctness " - to deactivate the corrosive and lethal load of engaged art reduced to a matter of "extravagant", "mischief" fun hobby of intellectuals and exquisite ... Art was to be established absolutely unproductive, it was precisely their power of subversion. Something very different from what happens today, in my opinion, where the art system has become one of the most docile of the complicit postmodern late capitalist society, who best portrays, who best represents the simulation state widespread ... "also characterizes the simulations of institutionalized power.

Lyotard defines modern art as that which " devotes its 'little technique' as Diderot said, to present what is of unpresentable. To show that there is something that can be conceived and can not see or do: This is the area of \u200b\u200bmodern painting "... In many ways this" present the unpresentable "has to do with the conception of the sublime in Kant - the feeling of the sublime, Kant, takes place when the imagination fails and fails to present an object, even in principle, come to settle in accordance with a concept ... If modern art is somewhat sublime, it is because at all times alludes to the unpresentable. But this allusion is done so negative, and visible forms. The abstract painting is but a degree of expression of these principles, because it presents something preventing figuration and representation. Some trends in contemporary art are incomprehensible if not recognized this sublime vocation.

And in this vagabond life of art and history, admired by the body or spirit, seemingly representing real or wandering about the unpresentable, where was the beauty? What beauty or virtue or morality can give us the modern art? Thomas Mann, a subtle thinker and author of unforgettable works - The Magic Mountain, for example, poses suggestive relationships between beauty, life (and reality) and the spirit ... Thomas Mann wonders about the problem of beauty: " The problem of beauty that the spirit is conceived as 'beauty' to life, while the latter understood as 'beauty' to the spirit ... "(...)" For the nostalgia goes back and forth between the spirit and life. It also claims the life spirit. Two worlds, whose relationship is erotic without being sexual polarity is clear, no one representing the male principle and the other the female principle, that is life and spirit. Hence there is a union between them, but the brief and heady illusion of unity and understanding, an unresolved tension eternal. " The art would be something like as the erotic attraction of life on the spirit, the spirit to life, between spirit and life ... ''Yet it is this that makes the art so worthy of being loved and exercised, is this wonderful contradiction which is or may be both delight and court conviction, honor and praise of his pleasant life through imitation and critical-moral annihilation of life, which makes raising pleasure documentation contained in the same way that raises awareness " ... However, although it seems distilled some positive attitude towards art and their virtues "therapeutic" about the existential libido, Thomas Mann does not expect much of their ability to remedy other anxieties and dangers, " Art is the ultimate in wishful thinking about their influence on the fate of men. Dismissive of evil, has never been able to stop the triumph of evil. Worried about giving a sense, has never been able to avoid the most glaring absurdities. There is a power, is only a consolation "...

" The art is dead. Their movements do not reflect the lower vitality, or even show the agonizing convulsions preceding death are only the mechanical reflex actions of a body subjected to a galvanic force "..." who thus expressed is Arthur Coleman Danto one of the most influential critics and theorists of contemporary art in recent decades and author of controversial article The end of art (1984) of great importance in the debate on contemporary art. On Beauty, for example, Danto acknowledges that at present " beauty has almost disappeared from the artistic discourse. It was something that worried at the beginning of the century, but now people is shocked when told of this. Has disappeared. There remains some connection between art and beauty, but not as deep as before "(...)" In my opinion, if people return to the concept of beauty must be asked what meaning now has the concept of beauty. What purpose meets or what is this beauty. Art is a proposal, not only beautiful objects. If they are is because it contributes to its artistic significance "... "Any object can be a work of art? "Yes " says the American critic- anyone can be, but that does not mean that anyone is. There are some restrictions, but that there are limitations on what this object might look artistic. For example, this ashtray is on the table now is not art as object, but do not know if it could be in another context. I would say that would to consider what it means and how it is connected with the artist's work and its contents "(...)" In our narrative, at first the art was mimesis, then several things were art but each tried to extinguish the competition, and finally, it became clear that there was no philosophical or stylistic constraints. The artwork must not be in a special way. And this is the present and, as I said, the final moment of the master narrative. It's the end of the story "... The Chronicle of a Death Foretold to which Danto spent the last paragraphs of Article The end of art" ... can be an abstract artist in the morning, an afternoon photo realistic and a minimalist night minimum. Or you can cut out paper dolls, or do whatever you damn well please. Has reached the age of pluralism, ie it does not matter what you do. When an address is as good as any other, the concept of "direction" is meaningless. The decoration, self-expression and entertainment are obviously enduring human needs. Art always have a role to play if they so wish artists. Your freedom ends in their own performance, but always will have a servile art. The art world institutions (galleries, collectors, exhibitions, journals), who have preached and said it again throughout history, will fade gradually. It is hard to predict what will make us happy is happiness, but notice how the food is all the rage in the traditional American way of life. In any case, has been an immense privilege to have lived in the history "... I confess: it is an immense privilege to survive even in the last throes of art and beauty ...

Pictures: of series My walks through the MoMA in New York "January 2005

128401 Lomita 010116 Manual

Today, Monday, I'm talking to you about aesthetics ... Love is not enough if you want to learn the art of love ...

is true that art has occupied for a long time to disclose, perform and achieve the beauty, or has been justified as a means of learning objectives. But neither the classical concept of "mimesis" or even its meaning nineteenth century that valued both the imitation of reality and the subjective interpretation of nature by the artist, are sufficient to explain this tropism toward beauty. In addition, much of the aesthetic thinking and artistic movements of the twentieth century alternative paths traveled very little or nothing to do with the "imitation" of nature, quite the contrary ... Symbolism, Cubism, Dada and Surrealism, the various concepts and abstract terms, for example, clashed sharply with that conception of art as imitation, and even as a distorted reflection of the real world, his intentions were quite different. Cubism is a good example of this, representing a fragmented world and definitely after the bursting of the "Great Truths" (including the aesthetic) and the ultimate impact of this new state of things and thoughts: the second industrial revolution, the new technology push, the establishment of the new liberal free-market economy, capitalist development, conflict more apparent from the struggle classes, Darwinian evolutionism, Marxism, nihilism "Nietzschean", psychoanalysis, and soon the relativism and quantum mechanics ... And is that ideas can not last forever and serve, but to adapt "imitating" the circumstances ...

Why beauty? What is beauty? That which, in addition to good, is nice, "as claimed by Aristotle? Or " only ugly is beautiful", according to the provocation of A. Solin? What is true beauty? If art appears as an unrealistic dream or as an improvement (illusory) of this reality, making it beautiful, are not we also agree that beauty is not just an attribute of truth but also of fiction? Can we continue to hold, as did Hegel and German idealism, the truth is a necessary condition of beauty, that the vocation of art is the discovery of truth? Where beauty dwells, how it manifests, how and why we recognize why we moved yet?

beauty since antiquity has taken refuge in concepts such as "harmony", "symmetry", "proportion." This view quantitative and numerical Beauty recognizable order, and inter-harmonics ratio canonical and / or symmetrical between the parties and was defended by Plato - " conservation measure and the proportion is always something beautiful " - and Aristotle - "Beauty is available in a size and ordered "- and also by Plotinus, that the mere proportion and order of things added significantly the existence of a soul which expresses itself through them and light. The new form of lighting is what Thomas Aquinas was to confirm that "the reason beauty and decorum concurs clarity and due proportion "and to define simple and absolutely that beauty is" the splendor the way. "

But what our teachers spoke classic beauty, what they meant? "A real beauty different from an abstract? What physical beauty than a spiritual beauty, as the Stoics? To the beauty that lies in numbers, in the body, the soul in grace? Already in the seventeenth century, there was talk of essential and natural beauty, beauty, pleasure and beauty useful or desirable, rare or novel. Sulzer apart shortly after the beauty and the varied condition of the elegant the splendid, the passionate ... well, up to Hume and his radical subjectivism " Beauty is no quality in things themselves. Exists in the mind which contemplates them, and each mind perceives a different beauty . " Subjectivism which Baumgarten and Hegel seem to face with their assumptions of beauty, perfection and ideal beauty, "Beauty is absolute idea sensory appearance" (Hegel). In summary, an apparently contradictory historical

should not surprise us consider beauty as a misnomer, on the contrary, it is perhaps its ambiguity, its polysemy, its historical and desemantización feature that identifies it and become a powerful figure of speech. Beauty is like a face of a thousand faces (elusive), a permanent body and unpredictable metamorphosis, a date and transparent soul ... The variety of objects and things, ideas, sensations and feelings, thoughts, attributed the beauty (or that adjective as beautiful) show the varying length and "modulation" of beauty. Next to the beauty and provided geometric shapes, symmetry, harmony, which I mentioned earlier, appear in the classical Roman world, and then later in the medieval world, some new concepts that lurk or go through indeterminate territories of beauty: "the sublime", charm, attraction and grace, the decorative (bonito), ornament, decency and "dignity" of things, subtlety, so careful, and even "fitness" ... a variety of mostly recognizable beauty in architecture, designating either the fitness for purpose, social competence and the practicality of an object. These concepts involving multiple ways of undefined values \u200b\u200bof beauty or, rather, identify it, perhaps they are "the sublime"-the assumption of "sublime" and "enthusiasm and ability elevate the spirit, coupled with the grandeur of thought and depth of emotions (Tatarkiewicz) - and their "fitness" or utility, which represent the imprecise boundaries of beauty almost always opposite limits, antagonistic, traditionally considered the antipodes of the territory of meaning of beauty, and we tried to reconcile modern and closer in, also, undefined "republics" of art and design, how useful and also beautiful, "blurring conventional boundaries ...

Kant is one of the great authors who reflected on the beauty and "sublime" including them in his aesthetic judgments and suggestions and adding new categories, such as "taste", which have been influential in the aesthetic philosophy today. For Kant, the "Judgement of Taste" does not presuppose a representation under a given concept, but asserts a relationship between representation and a special satisfaction "disinterested" aesthetic satisfaction can cause the object does not have any function but has an intention in form, some formal all sorted for your understanding and admiration has "no intention intentionality." Likewise, the trial of taste is different from mere pleasure sensitive because no obligation to accept or require to be supported by reasons ... No argument can be compelled to agree to a trial of taste, but its logic leads to a general acceptance: for example, "this flower is beautiful" it does not mean that when we are struck by one thing we can guarantee that all affected others feel the same way, however we can ensure that the general possibility of sharing knowledge presupposed in every one of us a degree of cooperation in a universal understanding and imagination, which means that every rational being has the capacity to feel, in appropriate conditions of perception, this harmony through its cognitive powers. Therefore, a true "judgments of taste" can legitimately claim to be true for everyone, to consummate their status as "subjective universality."

idealistic better articulated system was undoubtedly that of Hegel. For Hegel, the "Idea"-the concept in its highest stage of dialectical development is embodied in material forms in art, this is "beauty." When the material is spiritualized in the art is given both a cognitive revelation of truth, while a "reinvigoration" of the viewer. For Hegel the very nature was a product of mind or the result of the action of the story, so there would be no objective difference between natural beauty and artistic beauty, " only the spiritual is real. What exists exists only to the extent of their spirituality. Natural beauty is therefore a reflection of the spirit. Should be viewed as an incomplete way of the spirit, as a way to content himself in the spirit, as an independent privately but subject to spirit. "

In many ways the Hegelian thesis came to exceed those of Kant's ideas about beauty and aesthetic reflection. Kant wanted to distinguish between two types of beauty, other artificial or natural and artistic. Kant founded on the "taste" the ability to recognize and appreciate the natural beauty of artistic beauty, however, built essentially from cultural, historical and social values, had the foundation to "genius." While trying to overcome the Hegelian ideas of Kant, they resisted and were the basis for much of the romantic feeling in the art. The doctrine of taste and vitality of the "faculties of the soul" opened the possibility of an aesthetic supported by "doing" and "feel" of genius ... By giving the "genius" ability "to express no knowledge science and harmony soul and thus ignite the spirit and temper the character "was expedited way to a romantic aesthetic, in which genius is the main substance in the production of a work of art and aesthetic judgments about it main reference is the artist's life. In the following post-Kantian romantic feeling, the art object could have had the experience, its meaning was to bring a life experience "strong" and intense able to move the existence and essentially transform our attitudes to life, the artist and the viewer moved. This effectively polluted thinking feeling modern in its origins, born in the inner spread of Romanticism and its aftermath, surviving with great fortune and many special accents to the present day through some of the groups and most significant art movements of the twentieth century. And not only from the side of artists, but especially since the trial that he deserves to society to make and the feelings of the artists and the object of his creation. As in other cases, the eyes of the general social about art and artists has been, is, still, most romantic and irrational than their unbelieving and privileged interpreters and creators ...

Drawing

"Fryzjer ( Great Travel Series ), Izabella Jagiello, 2007

Chlorek Potasu śmierć

First an image without words ... and then we talk about aesthetics, right? ... Let

Drawing:" Pawn "Izabella Jagiello , 2007

Merilyn Sakova 4 Gifs

today I write of old things: the art and beauty, for example ... "Conversations on Aesthetics (I) Love Will

" Art is something that everyone knows what is " axiomatically Benedetto Croce said, accepting the possibility of a previous intuitive knowledge that allows us to recognize art when you do this, conclusion similar to what Wittgenstein and his followers arrive to give to define this awareness - " regard to a response that can not speak, Nor can express the question " .... It is likely that such claims be resolved axiomatic radically the problem of consciousness in art and the need to invent arguments to be held, but also prevent the expression language, cornering to art, beauty, aesthetic experience, to the ends so dark you can not talk ... Fortunately the history of aesthetic ideas and thoughts show that human beings have interested these issues, perhaps excessively, and that through his questions and answers has written some of the pages brightest of their language. Much has been written about art, beauty, aesthetic experience, as created objects considered art, beauty compulsively searched far and there is not sensible and intellectually experienced the presence of the real world, while subjective that adjective with hope and aesthetic ... The language should be at the height of the circumstances, that is so beautiful, haunting and evocative as the things and feelings to which it relates, or at least try.

For centuries, from classical thought, art is identified with the imitation: "mimesis." Socrates and argued that painting was merely imitating beings of nature. Plato was the first great philosopher who approaches the subject from an aesthetic standpoint. Art - "techne " - was an intellectual or manual skill requiring some knowledge and skill to produce (create) something. But when a copy of the material world that mimics nature and at the same time participates in the intelligible world of ideas, all art would be an imitation of an imitation, ie low-level products that only provide knowledge ontological one, the simulated operated by the art would thus have a decreased value (being copy of a copy is like the shadow of a shadow. ") The art act as a mirror reproducing the ephemeral and elusive images of reality. Plato was only valid for the imitation of ideas: the beauty is, according to Plato, an idea that is reflected in things. The notion of beauty leads us beyond the immediate appearance of reality in things. It is only in this experience of beauty, in the "show" like beautiful things, where it shows the idea as an idea beyond its immediate appearance ... Love - " eros" - is the impulse towards beauty, towards the world of ideas, intelligible partial beauties beautiful things are like steps by which we ascend to true knowledge and wisdom ... but

Aristotle believed that imitation was an inborn inclination of human beings. This imitation would not be a slavish copy of the original model, but would be conditioned by their instinct to search for credible and universal, seeking some idealization of reality imitated " should embellish a painter and his model than " ... Plotinus, the continuation of the ideas of Plato, was wise to include the beauty with truth and goodness in philosophy, expanding territories until almost the very aesthetics of morality and metaphysics. In Plotinus the concept of imitation is not bad thing in itself, because the things of nature are themselves images of something higher-the world of ideas, "so that art would be a perfect imitation, or" Idea "perfect, which emanates sensible. Plotinus's reflections, which permeated much of the Western aesthetic since his time, the III-to the modern world could be summarized in the following statements: we must distinguish between "good" and "beauty", and that beauty come from the well, also have to distinguish between beauty and beauty intelligible sense, the formal beauty of things is the "participation in an Ideally, not just in the proportion and symmetry (as claimed by the Pythagoreans, Plato and Aristotle), the means of achieving beauty is art and its methods would be the "dialectic" and the practice of virtues. The artist-musician, philosopher, poet, or "lovesick" - through the practice of their art reaches a certain level of intelligibility that makes it able to reach the beauty and hence the "One" good "(God). Like Plato - " worth the life of man when he contemplates itself Beauty" - Plotinus agrees that our goal is to know and watch the "Greater Good" and to do so requires having obtained the revelation of beauty (through art, for example).

Derivatives of this conception of imitation, "slavish not" that transcends the model, we can relate the theories that conceive of art as an expression of the invisible visible, and the artist as a "medium" that summons the specter of the divine that senses the very depths of things and its mission is to reveal and make visible what is hidden or obscured in their own abyss ... Not so far from this theory "transcendental" would be more symbolic approaches Hegel - " art is a means by which man it is externalized" - and even the formality of Zamoyiski - " art is all that emerged from a need for something shape."

But back to the concept of techne ", certainly more effective to approach those first questions about the knowledge or skill (art) to create something (artistic). We begin by defining Tatarkiewicz to reorder our ideas: "Art is conscious human activity, capable a) creating beauty through forms (realistic or abstract) that fend for themselves, b) to express the inner world, and c) generating delight emotion or shock. " Tatarkiewicz poses for art as a conscious human activity, conception and origin of the artwork that runs counter to the dominant theories of traditional aesthetics that held the unconscious nature of artistic creation or source in the creative genius artist.

Kant believed that "genius is favored by nature and must be considered a rare phenomenon ." Scheleirmacher, in the same vein, believed that "genius wake germs in man asleep in a better humanity. They are priests of a higher order announcing the intimate sense of spiritual secrets all. " Both authors lay the notion of "genius" in a kind of unconscious law similar to that which operates in nature and which would be a new manifestation of organic evolution-idea is not far removed from that of the collective unconscious of Jung, proposes the existence of a wisdom accumulated by mankind for millennia that is expressed through archetypes, images and symbols more or less similar in different cultures could find no apparent connection and are manifested and recognize especially in countless works of art. These ideas about the origin of artistic creation in the field of the unconscious also recognize Plato and Leibniz-theory of "monads" - and Hegel, Schopenhauer and Schelling, among others, who share the understanding that the "creative energy" springs from the depths of man, of his unconscious, and acknowledges the inspiration ... imagination and inspiration would be two fundamental powers are necessary, for most of the thinkers who endorse the unconscious source of artistic creation, and fantasy as engine of creativity. In this respect also When he says that Freud repressed instincts seek satisfaction in fantasy and return to the real world by establishing a new reality, the artistic products form part of the " intermediate realm between reality, unable to update the desires and the world of fantasy who performs. " Psychoanalyst theory which joined the Surrealists and their supporters, such as Breton, with its proposal Surrealist act as "pure psychic automatism" - Dali "which viewed artistic creation as" paranoiac critical activity "- and in general all those who have conceived artistic creation as a spontaneous method of irrational knowledge based on interpretation of the phenomena associations delusional ...

The latest consideration of art as a "conscious activity", as defined Tatarkiewicz, reconciles some concepts on artistic creation that had remained under discussion throughout the history of aesthetic ideas. Until the medieval world survived the idea of \u200b\u200bthe artist as imitator, his creativity is nothing more than an emanation, a reflection of true creativity, the divine ... The Renaissance artist recognized in other faculties, other gifts, such as raised Baltasar Gracian: " Art is, as it were, a second operator of nature, has added another former world, has given a perfection that the other does not possess in himself, and to get together with nature, every day work new miracles "... The artist, beyond being a mere imitator, is being considered primarily an inventor, someone who discovers, modifying, creating new realities through imagination. Although long this "new" quality of the artist as a real operator is subject mainly to the early ideals of the pursuit of truth and beauty, and the artist will mediated by their relative lack of freedom until recently, it certainly opened a limitless horizon of goals and projects "on itself" in art hitherto unimaginable, whose ultimate consequences are assuming the (enjoying, suffering) definitely now ...

(to be continued ... of course)

picture "of the Caryatids Tribune" on the Erechtheion, Acropolis of Athens in September 2006