! Esco & Güilmon !'s blog

"(...) La gente nunca es tan peligrosa como cuando sólo le queda creer en Dios...”

J. G. Ballard, Bienvenidos a Metro-Centre.

From ON BLUE series

"The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass. The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.

No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved. No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type. All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.

Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself. We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely".

All art is quite useless.

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (preface)

The unknow friend

I don't know how to begin this first encounter. The first encounters are used to being vain attempts. Warning, an old song of Radio Futura sounds by chance in the iTunes, the lyrics explains in a way I seek in my street photos, short stories of strangers that soon I can forget. I download the theme. I seek a photo of me front the monitor. Already I have my first entry in the blog.

A un amigo desconocido aún                        To an unknown friend still
en cuyas manos se toca el antiguo fluído      in whose hands is touched the old one fluid
al vagabundo que un día eligió                      o the vagabond that a day chose
a su sombra por único destino.                     his shadow how only destiny.

A un amigo desconocido aún.                       To an unknown friend

Al que me dio a beber su mismo trago           To which gave me to drink its same drink
ese licor tan sangrado, cargado y oscuro        that liquor so bled, loaded and dark
tan necesario como sangre de Cristo             as necessary as blood of Christ
cuando ya nada podía esperar de él.              when already nothing could expect of him.

A un amigo desconocido aún.                       To an unknown friend

Yo sólo quiero aprender de ti                         I only want to learn of you
algo que pronto se pueda olvidar                    something soon some day can be forgot
pues algún día lo voy a contar                       therefore I'm going to count it
muy lejos de aquí, sí                                    very far from here, yes
a otro amigo desconocido aún.                      to another unknown friend still

Con la cabeza tan desgastada ya                  With the head so eroded already
como la punta de un lapicero muy viejo          as the tip of a very old pencil
y con la lengua enmarañada                          and with the tongue entangled
y las mejillas tan negras como carbón.           and the cheeks as black as coal.

es el amigo desconocido aún.                        It's the unknown friend still.

Hay una hoguera en mitad del asfalto             There is a blaze in half of the asphalt
y en tu bolsillo la carta que no quisiste abrir    and in your pocket the letter you don't want to open
porque la noche habló a tu espalda                 because the night spoke to his back
y sus palabras te hicieron sonreir                   and his words caused they smiled you

Adiós amigo, desconocido aun.                      Good-bye friend, unknown still.
Yo sólo quiero aprender de ti                          I only want to learn of you
algo que pronto se pueda olvidar                    something soon some day can be forgot
pues algún día lo voy a contar                        therefore I am going to count it
muy lejos de aquí, sí                                     very far from here, yes

a otro amigo desconocido aún.                       To an unknown friend
a otro amigo desconocido aún.                       To an unknown friend