Posts Tagged ‘ bell ’

Haiku | Wales Haiku Journal | Trembling of the Moment – Lorca

Quiero vivir en Graná

porque me gusta el oír

la campana de la Vela

cuando me voy a dormir

(I want to live in Granada / because it pleases me to hear / the bell of the Vela / when I go to sleep.)

 

In 1932, Lorca would deliver a lecture on the duende, the elemental, demonic earth spirit, embodying irrationality, darkness and an awareness of death. For Lorca, the appearance of the duende in literature, art and performance was not a question of technical ability, but of “true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation”. And it is this profound authenticity which resonates in the finest examples of both the haiku and the copla. For both forms are, at their purest, “a momentary burst of inspiration, the blush of all that is truly alive . . . the trembling of the moment and then a long silence”.

Source: Haiku | Wales Haiku Journal | Trembling of the Moment – Lorca

鈴 / bell – YouTube

Ryuichi Sakamoto: My friend, a very young Japanese artist called Soichiro Mihara, after Fukushima he created a very beautiful piece [Bell, 2013] related to radioactivity. He modified Japanese traditional furinfurin is wind chime in Japanese—but in his piece, the wind chime does not pick up wind but radioactivity. Passing the radioactive particles, it will ring. So I think that’s the best piece after Fukushima.

Ryuichi Sakamoto in The Brooklyn Rail, June 2018

Kyle Laws | River City Poetry

The Bell and the Glass
—An installation of Duchamp’s
The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors 
and The Liberty Bell

Philadelphia Museum of Art

Again, in front of The Bride I sit,
bared before leaving Pueblo,
a Colorado town on two rivers,
stripped back to an apartment
on Tulip Street down from SKF,
Swedish ball bearing factory just
over the Tacony-Palmyra Bridge.
I’m 18, commuting to high school,
crossing a bridge in a Tempest.
On Tulip Street, I park on a hill,
hope the brake holds. Days when
it doesn’t, neighbors call out
and I chase the Pontiac down streets
marooned near tracks so Father
can form steel.

There’s a mechanical apparatus in
the lower pane of Duchamp’s glass.
Three windows that look out come later,
in a studio in Pueblo with a pull-out bed.
Duchamp’s glass broke when traveling
between Philadelphia and Brooklyn—
Father’s birthplace. There’s a pattern
to the break. It did not harm the piece.
It added texture, something you could feel.

“Can salvation have the marks of sin
that others can see?” I asked before leaving.
“Because you may not like the marks,
the cracks in glass or brass,
anything containing that much liberty.”

– Kyle Laws

 

Source: Kyle Laws | River City Poetry

Notes on Impressions and Responsiveness | Prof Judith Butler (2015)

Peter Paul and Mary, Very Last Day

Jason Moran – Refraction 1

John Lennon – Scared

Gita chanting by Kala Ramesh | tinywords

Gita chanting –
as each stanza ends
the bell

– Kala Ramesh
      ISSUE 13.3