ares de primavera

EIKOH HOSOE

a natureza canta melhor

je n'y comprends rien mais je sens... 

et j'ai pas besoins de comprendre

A succession of pure sensations which never really reach 

the state of consciousness.

AGNÈS VARDA

à procura da luz dentro de casa

luz de abril que entra em casa

"o estado do cinema só tem um equivalente: não a participação imaginária, mas a chuva quando se sai de uma sala, não o sonho, mas o escuro e a insónia... 

esses grãos dançantes que não são feitos para ser vistos, este pó luminoso que não é uma prefiguração dos corpos, esses flocos de neve e toalhas de fuligem” 

DELEUZE

SAMANTHA FIELDS

Immanence and Transcendence in the Cinema of Nature

 El Sol del Membrillo, VICTOR ERICE

Everything that exists is a modulation of a single and unique Being and is defined by the affects of which it is capable... one and the same Being prior to any differentiation between man and nature; animals and humans, machines and organic life, thoughts and memories are defined not by form, substance or species but by intensive magnitude and affective capacity.

aqui

por aqui viajo eu neste caminho

When my feet are coming of the ground, and I can almost feel—inch by inch—as you’re reading through the damn thing, that you’re floating up into the room, and slowly you come back down. And it’s a selfish thing, but that’s the only feeling I care to chase...

ALEXAI GALAVIZ-BUDZISZEWSKI

let the wind blow

Mexico - Naomi Kawase

Shadows of trees were cast on the wall of Frida Kahlo's house. 

Sun is very strong here. 

Here in the past, What did Frida think of? A freedom? 

A man called Louis invited me to the film festival. 
He looks like a character in the Simpsons. 
He smiles very warmly. 

We had a drink that night. I tried Mexican local pulque and got tipsy. 
I was taken to the floor for dance. 
I felt like cells of my body got activated. 

I miss Mexico now. 
It was very good travel. 

um diário em forma de pequenos haikus 

 demasiados lindos para reproduzir

how can we be joyful in a world full of knowledge

Rien ne s'efface

Ce questionnement intime dévoile l’univers de la cinéaste Naomi Kawase. Il interroge aussi notre propre rapport au monde, la fragilité de ce qui nous entoure, la fuite du temps et tout ce qui, malgré tout, s’arrache à l’oubli.

"This is why true beauty never strikes us directly. The setting sun is beautiful because of all it makes us lose."

ANTONIN ARTAUD

Just as her documentaries work on her own personal issues and become marvelous takes on universal feelings, in Kawase’s fiction films feelings emerge from deep rooted places and are slowly and calmly unfolded until they become transparent.

Naomi Kawase’s films heal and sweep us away with comfort. They go to cathartic extremes, but they are nevertheless smoothening and eased by a sweet and calm feel of tranquility, making us feel – as we watched people struggling with the purest of hardships - that still everything is going to be ok.

aqui

❁ pausa para recuperar o fôlego ❁

Memorizing a poem

(...) I still was shocked by the poem’s palpable effect on me. I think we’re biologically impacted by language. It can be deeply, deeply nourishing. And I don’t mean that as a metaphor. It can feel like something cellular gets fed. When language is treated beautifully and interestingly, it can feel good for the body: It’s nourishing, it’s rejuvenating. This is not the way we typically think about literature, which tend to talk about as taking place inside the head—even if it’s the emotional part of the head. To feel energized by Stevens was a singular experience that reminded me how words register in our physical bodies, too. It felt like concrete proof that literature is important. 

I think a good poem will always stay a little mysterious. The best writing does. The words that click into place, wrap around something mysterious. They create a shape around which something lives—and they give hints about what that thing is, but do not reveal it fully. That’s the thing I want to do in my own writing: present words that act as a vessel for something more mysterious. I know it’s working when I feel like there’s something hovering beneath it the verbal, that mysterious emotional place that Stevens wrote about.

 Language is limited, it’s a faulty tool. But how high it lights the dark.

daqui

...the Double, not of this direct, everyday reality of which it is gradually being reduced to a mere inert replica - as empty as it is sugarcoated - but of another archetypal and dangerous reality, a reality of which the Principles, like dolphins, once they have shown their heads, hurry to dive back into the obscurity of the deep.

ANTONIN ARTAUD

Film can reveal the invisible, but you must be willing to let it show.

WIM WENDERS

uma galáxia que tudo atrai

Casa de lava, PEDRO COSTA

Só quando o ritmo se torna o único modo de expressão do pensamento, só então é que há poesia. 

Para que o espírito se torne poesia, é preciso que ele traga nele o mistério de um ritmo inato. É somente nesse ritmo que ele pode viver e tornar-se visível. E toda a obra de arte não é senão um único e mesmo ritmo. 

Tudo é apenas ritmo. O destino do homem é um só ritmo celeste, como toda a obra de arte é um ritmo único. 

 Entrevistas da loucura com Sinclair (1804)

como já se dizia, montagem minha bela inquietação, obsessão

je trouve enfin ma voie : le montage. 

FRANCINE LEMAITRE

Poor Jean, with all his dreams of many films... 

Stan Brakhage

Sakura

When standing under the old trees, the layers of flower petals look like women’s underwear, transparent to the sky above.

NOBUYOSHI ARAKI

Here, in my solitude

It oozes out of me like a broken tube of toothpaste; it doesn’t want to stay within the confines of my body. A strange feeling of weight and volume. Soul volume perhaps, which rises like clouds of smoke and envelops my body.

INGMAR BERGMAN

They burst forth into a fountain of sparks and all our emotions burst with them.

Valerie and I pretended not to be aware of his presence... but we knew perfectly well that his eyes were on us.

THE RIVER, RENOIR

uma cicatriz deixada pelos momentos (e cortes) perfeitos