E se a verdadeira liberdade, como em Caeiro, for não pensar?

Franz Marc, Kater auf gelbem Kissen (1912, Staatliche Galerie Moritzburg)

LE CHAT

 

Pour ne poser qu'un doigt dessus
Le chat est bien trop grosse bête.
Sa queue rejoint sa tête,
Il tourne dans ce cercle
Et se répond à la caresse.

Mais, la nuit l'homme voit ses yeux
dont la pâleur est le seul don.
Ils sont trop gros pour qu'il les cache
Et trop lourds pour le vent perdu du rêve.

Quand le chat danse
C'est pour isoler sa prison
Et quand il pense
C'est jusqu'aux murs de ses yeux.
´

Paul Eluard, Les animaux et leurs hommes, les hommes et leurs animaux

     Os gatos não dansam, mas talvez pensem...

Como escrever um romance II: Yes, a pair of cats

Franz Marc, Zwei Katzen, blau und gelb (1912, Kunstmuseum Basel, Suíça)

And as the young man still looked rather disappointed, I volunteered a final piece of advice, gratuitously. “My young friend,” I said, “if you want to be a psychological novelist and write about human beings, the best thing you can do is to keep a pair of cats.” And with that I left him. I hope, for his own sake, that he took my advice. For it was good advice — the fruit of much experience and many meditations. But I am afraid that, being a rather foolish young man, he merely laughed at what he must have supposed was only a silly joke: laughed, as I myself foolishly laughed when, years ago, that charming and talented and extraordinary man, Ronald Firbank, once told me that he wanted to write a novel about life in Mayfair and so was just off to the West Indies to look for copy among the Negroes. I laughed at the time; but I see now that he was quite right. Primitive people, like children and animals, are simply civilized people with the lid off, so to speak — the heavy elaborate lid of manners, conventions, traditions of thought and feeling beneath which each one of us passes his or her existence. This lid can be very conveniently studied in Mayfair, shall we say, or Passy, or Park Avenue. But what goes on underneath the lid in these polished and elegant districts? Direct observation (unless we happen to be endowed with a very penetrating intuition) tells us but little; and, if we cannot infer what is going on under other lids from what we see, introspectively, by peeping under our own, then the best thing we can do is to take the next boat for the West Indies, or else, less expensively, pass a few mornings in the nursery, or alternatively, as I suggested to my literary young friend, buy a pair of cats. Yes, a pair of cats.

Aldous Huxley, Music at Night

http://danassays.wordpress.com/collected-essays-by-aldous-huxley

     «Primitive people, like children and animals, are simply civilized people with the lid off» - adoro! :) Apesar de ser uma premissa para os mais incríveis disparates, como se verá nos postes seguintes. ;)

     À suivre: uma ode à superioridade dos gatos siameses.

Franz Marc

Franz Marc, Drei Katzen

(1913, Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen, Dusseldorf)

     It was at this period [depois de ter voltado para Paris, fugindo do casamento, na véspera da cerimónia, na Páscoa de 1907] that he began the intensive study of animals which was to lead to his mature style. He said that he wanted to recreate them 'from the inside', and made himself so complete a master of animal anatomy that he was able to give lessons in the subject (...). Though he felt he was now making some progress, he destroyed his more ambitious works, as they continued to dissatisfy him. In December 1908 he wrote a letter to Reinhart Piper:

     «I am trying to intensify my feeling for the organic rhythm of all things, to achieve pantheistic empathy with the throbbing and flowing of nature's bloodstream in trees, in animals, in the air.»

From Edward Lucie-Smith, "Lives of the Great 20th-Century Artists"

     Descobri Franz Marc graças a este blogue. Nem de propósito depois do último post. Como diz Lou Reed, «There's a bit of magic in everything and then some loss to even things out».