Biba Experience

Barry Lyndon [Stanley Kubrick]

2012-01-29T06:12:00.000-08:00

Cartuja de Porta Coeli

2012-01-28T06:58:00.001-08:00

Emma [Doughlas McGrath]

2012-01-27T06:05:00.000-08:00

Jane Eyre [Cary Fukunaga]

2012-01-25T07:38:00.000-08:00

Cecilia´s faith

2012-01-17T12:11:00.000-08:00

Newborn

2012-01-17T07:14:00.001-08:00

Femme nue dans un fauteuil rouge [Pablo Picasso]

2012-01-14T10:35:00.000-08:00

Two of a kind

2012-01-09T07:33:00.000-08:00

Street

2012-01-09T07:28:00.001-08:00

Swan

2012-01-09T07:15:00.001-08:00

Full stride

2012-01-07T06:52:00.001-08:00

Black Swan [Darren Aronofsky]

2012-01-05T06:46:00.000-08:00

Leaves

2012-01-02T06:32:00.000-08:00

Together

2011-12-30T04:29:00.001-08:00

Lakes

2011-12-28T12:23:00.001-08:00

The shape of my heart

2011-12-28T12:13:00.001-08:00

Thinking places

2011-12-28T12:10:00.000-08:00

Bears

2011-12-27T13:41:00.001-08:00

Miss Honey's cottage

2011-12-27T06:17:00.000-08:00

Cielos

2011-12-26T10:26:00.001-08:00

Lo imposible

2011-12-26T10:25:00.001-08:00

Total Eclipse [Agnieszka Holland]

2011-12-26T10:21:00.000-08:00

Tough love

2011-12-25T04:02:00.000-08:00

Atomic County

2011-12-25T03:26:00.000-08:00

Tamed

2011-12-25T03:24:00.001-08:00

Bosques de Asturias

2011-12-24T09:10:00.001-08:00

Face nature

2011-12-24T08:53:00.000-08:00

Vampire room

2011-12-24T05:39:00.000-08:00

In full moon night sky and horses

2011-12-24T05:30:00.000-08:00

Barboleta azul

2011-12-24T05:27:00.001-08:00

Trees in the light

2011-12-23T14:14:00.000-08:00

The Tyger [William Blake]

2011-12-19T14:25:00.000-08:00

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
in the forests of the night,
what immortal hand or eye
could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art
could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
what dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
and watered heaven with their tears,
did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
in the forests of the night,
what immortal hand or eye
dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

An Octopus [Marianne Moore]

2011-12-19T14:10:00.000-08:00

An Octopus

of ice. Deceptively reserved and flat,
it lies 'in grandeur and in mass'
beneath a sea of shifting snow-dunes;
dots of cyclamen-red and maroon on its clearly defined
pseudo-podia
made of glass that will bend–a much needed invention–
comprising twenty-eight ice-fields from fifty to five hundred
feet thick,
of unimagined delicacy.
'Picking periwinkles from the cracks'
or killing prey with the concentric crushing rigor of the python,
it hovers forward 'spider fashion
on its arms' misleading like lace;
its 'ghostly pallor changing
to the green metallic tinge of an anemone-starred pool.'
The fir-trees, in 'the magnitude of their root systems,'
rise aloof from these maneuvers 'creepy to behold,'
austere specimens of our American royal families,
'each like the shadow of the one beside it.
The rock seems frail compared with the dark energy of life,'
its vermilion and onyx and manganese-blue interior expensiveness
left at the mercy of the weather;
'stained transversely by iron where the water drips down,'
recognized by its plants and its animals.
Completing a circle,
you have been deceived into thinking that you have progressed,
under the polite needles of the larches
'hung to filter, not to intercept the sunlight'–
met by tightly wattled spruce-twigs
'conformed to an edge like clipped cypress
as if no branch could penetrate the cold beyond its company';
and dumps of gold and silver ore enclosing The Goat’s Mirror–
that lady-fingerlike depression in the shape of the left human
foot,
which prejudices you in favor of itself
before you have had time to see the others;
its indigo, pea-green, blue-green, and turquoise,
from a hundred to two hundred feet deep,
'merging in irregular patches in the middle of the lake
where, like gusts of a storm
obliterating the shadows of the fir-trees, the wind makes lanes
of ripples.'
What spot could have merits of equal importance
for bears, elks, deer, wolves, goats, and ducks?
Pre-empted by their ancestors,
this is the property of the exacting porcupine,
and of the rat 'slipping along to its burrow in the swamp
or pausing on high ground to smell the heather';
of 'thoughtful beavers
making drains which seem the work of careful men with shovels,'
and of the bears inspecting unexpectedly
ant-hills and berry-bushes.
Composed of calcium gems and alabaster pillars,
topaz, tourmaline crystals and amethyst quartz,
their den in somewhere else, concealed in the confusion
of 'blue forests thrown together with marble and jasper and agate
as if the whole quarries had been dynamited.'
And farther up, in a stag-at-bay position
as a scintillating fragment of these terrible stalagmites,
stands the goat,
its eye fixed on the waterfall which never seems to fall–
an endless skein swayed by the wind,
immune to force of gravity in the perspective of the peaks.
A special antelope
acclimated to 'grottoes from which issue penetrating draughts
which make you wonder why you came,'
it stands it ground
on cliffs the color of the clouds, of petrified white vapor–
black feet, eyes, nose, and horns, engraved on dazzling ice-fields,
the ermine body on the crystal peak;
the sun kindling its shoulders to maximum heat like acetylene,
dyeing them white–
upon this antique pedestal,
'a mountain with those graceful lines which prove it a volcano,'
its top a complete cone like Fujiyama’s
till an explosion blew it off.
Distinguished by a beauty
of which 'the visitor dare never fully speak at home
for fear of being stoned as an impostor,'
Big Snow Mountain is the home of a diversity of creatures:
those who 'have lived in hotels
but who now live in camps–who prefer to';
the mountain guide evolving from the trapper,
'in two pairs of trousers, the outer one older,
wearing slowly away from the feet to the knees';
'the nine-striped chipmunk
running with unmammal-like agility along a log';
the water ouzel
with 'its passion for rapids and high-pressured falls,'
building under the arch of some tiny Niagara;
the white-tailed ptarmigan 'in winter solid white,
feeding on heather-bells and alpine buckwheat';
and the eleven eagles of the west,
'fond of the spring fragrance and the winter colors,'
used to the unegoistic action of the glaciers
and 'several hours of frost every midsummer night.'
'They make a nice appearance, don’t they,'
happy see nothing?
Perched on treacherous lava and pumice–
those unadjusted chimney-pots and cleavers
which stipulate 'names and addresses of persons to notify
in case of disaster'–
they hear the roar of ice and supervise the water
winding slowly through the cliffs,
the road 'climbing like the thread
which forms the groove around a snail-shell,
doubling back and forth until where snow begins, it ends.'
No 'deliberate wide-eyed wistfulness' is here
among the boulders sunk in ripples and white water
where 'when you hear the best wild music of the forest
it is sure to be a marmot,'
the victim on some slight observatory,
of 'a struggle between curiosity and caution,'
inquiring what has scared it:
a stone from the moraine descending in leaps,
another marmot, or the spotted ponies with glass eyes,
brought up on frosty grass and flowers
and rapid draughts of ice-water.
Instructed none knows how, to climb the mountain,
by business men who require for recreation
three hundred and sixty-five holidays in the year,
these conspicuously spotted little horses are peculiar;
hard to discern among the birch-trees, ferns, and lily-pads,
avalanche lilies, Indian paint-brushes,
bear’s ears and kittentails,
and miniature cavalcades of chlorophylless fungi
magnified in profile on the moss-beds like moonstones in the water;
the cavalcade of calico competing
with the original American menagerie of styles
among the white flowers of the rhododendron surmounting
rigid leaves
upon which moisture works its alchemy,
transmuting verdure into onyx.

'Like happy souls in Hell,' enjoying mental difficulties,
the Greeks
amused themselves with delicate behavior
because it was 'so noble and fair';
not practised in adapting their intelligence
to eagle-traps and snow-shoes,
to alpenstocks and other toys contrived by those
'alive to the advantage of invigorating pleasures.'
Bows, arrows, oars, and paddles, for which trees provide the
wood,
in new countries more eloquent than elsewhere–
augmenting the assertion that, essentially humane,
'the forest affords wood for dwellings and by its beauty
stimulates the moral vigor of its citizens.'
The Greeks liked smoothness, distrusting what was back
of what could not be clearly seen,
resolving with benevolent conclusiveness,
'complexities which still will be complexities
as long as the world lasts';
ascribing what we clumsily call happiness,
to 'an accident or a quality,
a spiritual substance or the soul itself,
an act, a disposition, or a habit,
or a habit infused, to which the soul has been persuaded,
or something distinct from a habit, a power'–
such power as Adam had and we are still devoid of.
'Emotionally sensitive, their hearts were hard';
their wisdom was remote
from that of these odd oracles of cool official sarcasm,
upon this game preserve
where 'guns, nets, seines, traps, and explosives,
hired vehicles, gambling and intoxicants are prohibited;
disobedient persons being summarily removed
and not allowed to return without permission in writing.'
It is self-evident
that it is frightful to have everything afraid of one;
that one must do as one is told
and eat rice, prunes, dates, raisins, hardtack, and tomatoes
this fossil flower concise without a shiver,
intact when it is cut,
damned for its sacrosanct remoteness–
like Henry James 'damned by the public for decorum';
not decorum, but restraint;
it is the love of doing hard things
that rebuffed and wore them out–a public out of sympathy
with neatness.

Neatness of finish! Neatness of finish!
Relentless accuracy is the nature of this octopus
with its capacity for fact.
'Creeping slowly as with meditated stealth,
its arms seeming to approach from all directions,'
it receives one under winds that 'tear the snow to bits
and hurl it like a sandblast
shearing off twigs and loose bark from the trees.'
Is 'tree' the word for these things
'flat on the ground like vines'?
some 'bent in a half circle with branches on one side
suggesting dust-brushes, not trees;
some finding strength in union, forming little stunted grooves
their flattened mats of branches shrunk in trying to escape'
from the hard mountain 'planned by ice and polished by the wind'–
the white volcano with no weather side;
the lightning flashing at its base,
rain falling in the valleys, and snow falling on the peak–
the glassy octopus symmetrically pointed,
its claw cut by the avalanche
'with a sound like the crack of a rifle,
in a curtain of powdered snow launched like a waterfall.'

Red lace

2011-12-19T13:47:00.001-08:00

Wheat field with Cypresses [Van Gogh]

2011-12-19T13:26:00.000-08:00

Blondie

2011-12-18T06:48:00.000-08:00

Flower

2011-12-18T06:42:00.001-08:00

The New World [Terrence Malick]

2011-12-18T06:33:00.000-08:00

Girl

2011-12-15T02:49:00.000-08:00

Forest

2011-12-09T06:48:00.001-08:00

Let it snow

2011-12-09T06:44:00.001-08:00

Calmness

2011-12-09T06:40:00.001-08:00

Snow and the City

2011-12-08T15:23:00.001-08:00

Nevermind I'll find someone like you

2011-12-08T15:19:00.001-08:00

Calmness

2011-12-05T07:53:00.001-08:00

Joven liebre [Alberto Durero]

2011-12-03T09:55:00.001-08:00

Perfección del círculo [Jorge Guillén]

2011-12-03T06:40:00.001-08:00

Con misterio acaban
en filos de cima,
sujeta a la línea
fiel a la mirada,

los claros, amables
muros de un misterio,
invisible dentro
del bloque del aire.

Su luz es divina:
misterio sin sombra.
La sombra desdobla
viles mascarillas.

Misterio perfecto,
perfección del círculo,
círculo del circo
secreto del cielo.

Misteriosamente
refulge y se cela.
-¿Quién? ¿Dios? ¿El Poema?
-Misteriosamente...

Pirate en noir

2011-11-27T07:19:00.001-08:00

Skyline en rojo

2011-11-26T05:31:00.001-08:00

Dylanesque

2011-11-23T02:34:00.001-08:00

Les 400 coups [François Truffaut]

2011-11-20T06:17:00.001-08:00

Poems in Unrhymed Cadence - II [F.S. Flint]

2011-11-20T06:14:00.001-08:00

Under the lily shadow
and the gold
and the blue and mauve
that the whin and lilac
pour down on the water,
the fishes quiver.

Over the green cold leaves
and the rippled silver
and the tarnished copper
of its neck and beak,
toward the deep black water
beneath the arches,
the swan float slowly.

Into the dark of the arch the swan floats
and the black depth of my sorrow
bears a white rose of flame.

Poppies Blooming [Claude Monet]

2011-11-16T02:37:00.001-08:00

Olas

2011-11-14T13:58:00.000-08:00

Contextos

2011-11-12T06:24:00.001-08:00

Lezama y Cortázar

2011-11-12T06:21:00.001-08:00

Perspectivas de la ventana

2011-11-12T06:15:00.001-08:00

The Hunters in the Snow [Pieter Bruegel]

2011-11-09T13:23:00.000-08:00

Humo rosa

2011-11-09T13:20:00.001-08:00

Swimmers

2011-11-09T13:19:00.000-08:00

Gloom

2011-11-09T13:12:00.001-08:00

Bench

2011-11-06T13:18:00.001-08:00

Forest

2011-11-04T07:52:00.001-07:00

My hero [Foo Fighters]

2011-11-04T07:43:00.000-07:00

Too alarming now to talk about
take your pictures down
and shake it out
truth or consequence, say it aloud
use that evidence race it around.

There goes my hero
watch him as he goes
there goes my hero
he's ordinary.

Don't the best of them bleed it out
while the rest of them peter out
truth or consequence, say it aloud
use that evidence race it around.

There goes my hero
watch him as he goes
there goes my hero
he's ordinary.

Kudos my hero
leaving all the best
you know my hero
the one that's on.

There goes my hero
watch him as he goes
there goes my hero
he's ordinary.

There goes my hero
watch him as he goes
there goes my hero
he's ordinary.

There goes my hero

2011-11-01T09:34:00.001-07:00

Sofia

2011-10-30T07:49:00.001-07:00

Torre de Babel [Pieter Bruegel]

2011-10-29T09:34:00.000-07:00

Abercrombie

2011-10-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

Santuario de Las Lajas, Colombia

2011-10-29T06:52:00.000-07:00

Autumn leaves

2011-10-23T06:31:00.001-07:00

Bike

2011-10-22T07:22:00.001-07:00

The city

2011-10-22T03:01:00.000-07:00

At the Piano [James Abbot McNeill Whistler]

2011-10-21T15:25:00.000-07:00

Flowerbeds

2011-10-21T05:31:00.001-07:00

The Stolen Kiss [Jean Fragonard]

2011-10-19T02:25:00.000-07:00

Big Ben

2011-10-19T02:14:00.001-07:00

Escalas

2011-10-16T04:51:00.001-07:00

Mother of pearl and silver: The Andalusian [James Abbott McNeill Whistler]

2011-10-15T15:52:00.000-07:00

Motion

2011-10-15T11:52:00.001-07:00

Farolas de noche

2011-10-15T04:55:00.000-07:00

Tonalidades del turquesa

2011-10-12T08:18:00.000-07:00

Luz desértica

2011-10-12T08:15:00.000-07:00

More balloons

2011-10-12T04:44:00.000-07:00

L' harmonie

2011-10-09T01:55:00.000-07:00

Bows

2011-10-08T13:34:00.001-07:00

El sueño de la razón produce monstruos [Francisco Goya]

2011-10-08T12:35:00.000-07:00

Candles

2011-10-02T11:07:00.000-07:00

Encore

2011-10-02T05:56:00.000-07:00

Perspective

2011-10-01T04:59:00.000-07:00

Ruber

2011-09-30T04:25:00.000-07:00

Lying

2011-09-30T04:22:00.000-07:00

Chandelier

2011-09-30T04:16:00.001-07:00

Red weather

2011-09-29T07:37:00.001-07:00

Évasée

2011-09-29T06:13:00.000-07:00

Park

2011-09-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Smoker

2011-09-27T14:54:00.001-07:00

Inmarcesible

2011-09-26T14:21:00.000-07:00

Epiphany

2011-09-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

Nevermore

2011-09-26T14:11:00.000-07:00

Sprawl II (mountains beyond mountains) [Arcade Fire]

2011-09-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

They heard me singing and they told me to stop
Quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock
These days my life, I feel it has no purpose
But late at night the feelings swim to the surface

'Cause on the surface the city lights shine
They're calling at me, come and find your kind
Sometimes I wonder if the world's so small
That we can never get away from the sprawl

Living in the sprawl
Dead shopping malls rise like mountains beyond mountains
And there's no end in sight
I need the darkness, someone please cut the lights

We rode our bikes to the nearest park
Sat under the swings and kissed in the dark
We shield our eyes from the police lights
We run away, but we don't know why

And like a mirror, the city lights shine
They're screaming at us, "We don't need your kind"
Sometimes I wonder if the world's so small
That we can never get away from the sprawl

Living in the sprawl
Dead shopping malls rise like mountains beyond mountains
And there's no end in sight
I need the darkness, someone please cut the lights

They heard me singing and they told me to stop
Quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock
Sometimes I wonder if the world's so small
Can we ever get away from the sprawl?

Living in the sprawl
Dead shopping malls rise like mountains beyond mountains
And there's no end in sight
I need the darkness, someone please cut the lights

I need the darkness, someone please cut the lights