24 fevereiro, 2017

Winged Figure



Barbara Wepworth, Winged Figure, 1962





















Joan e Marguerite


Joan Mitchell, The Bluets, 1973



















"Le véritable lieu de naissance est celui où l'on a porté pour la première fois un coup d'œil intelligent sur soi-même"

Marguerite Yourcenar, Mémoires d'Hadrien






19 fevereiro, 2017

William Egglestone

William Egglestone, Mississippi, 1971

16 fevereiro, 2017

I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.
Mary Oliver


CT, Objectos do Céu Profundo, 2017

15 fevereiro, 2017

Paul Strand

Paul Strand, Rebecca, New York, 1921

13 fevereiro, 2017

Saul Leiter


Saul Leiter, Snow, 1960

Saul Leiter, Subway Car 4435, 1950



















12 fevereiro, 2017

Sze Tsung Leong

Sze Tsung Leong, Dead Sea II, 2007

11 fevereiro, 2017

Kunié Sugiura

Kunié Sugiura, After "Electric Dress", 2001 

10 fevereiro, 2017

Robert Mapplethorpe

I am obsessed with beauty. I want everything to be perfect, and of course it isn't. And that's a tough place to be because you're never satisfied.(Robert Mapplethorpe)


R.M., Rose, 1989 
























R.M., Ken Moody and Robert Sherman,1984



09 fevereiro, 2017

Joan Mitchell

Joan Mitchell, Few Days II (after James Schuyler), 1985

08 fevereiro, 2017

Frederico

FMG, Água-tinta, 2017

A mais bela Elisabeth Bishop

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

06 fevereiro, 2017

Oh, Ellsworth Kelly

Ellsworth Kelly, Blue Disk, 1963

Marianne Moore (e E.K.)

Para Uma Ave de Presa


Convéns-me, pois nem sequer te tomo a sério,
e não ficas cega pela palha que rodopia
    ao ser trazida de uma meda pelos ventos.

Sabes pensar e o que pensas dizes
com muito orgulho e fria firmeza
    de Sansão, e ninguém ousa deter-te.

O orgulho assenta-te bem, tão empertigada, ave colossal.
Nenhuma capoeira te faz parecer absurda;
   as tuas garras atrevidas são fortes, contra a derrota.


Poemas de Marianne Moore e Elisabeth Bishop (trad. Mª de Lourdes Guimarães) 



Ellsworth Kelly


05 fevereiro, 2017


um buraco na noite
subitamente invadido por um anjo


Alejandra Pizarnik


CT, Objectos do Céu Profundo, 2016

03 fevereiro, 2017

02 fevereiro, 2017

Henri Matisse


Não habitamos a terra 
ela habita-nos

Anise Kolz, Cantos de Recusa





Resultado de imagem para matisse recortandoMatisse

01 fevereiro, 2017

um anjo


Um anjo segue-me
como a minha sombra

Habituado à sua presença
esqueço-o
como ele me esquece.

Anise Kolz, Cantos de Recusa


Matisse