Here

I'm here-

The snow falling

KOBAYASHI ISSA

quando a montagem é assim

70 anos de doçura

il fait trop beau pour travailler

And the pig was born, JULIUS ZIZ

the flag of poetry

* como os arquitectos da Gulbenkian se aperceberam que só notamos numa coisa quando está numa moldura *

~

pena não haverem fotografias do espectáculo Partita 2 de Anne Teresa de Keersmaker que lá se passou: apenas aquele anfiteatro enorme e as microscópicas emoções humanas que o preenchiam, o faziam transbordar com a amplitude de um pequeno gesto

I don't consider myself an artist. I'm not an artist. I'm a farmer.

Splendor in the Grass, ELIA KAZAN

La Niña Santa, LUCRECIA MARTEL

"Those who prefer their principles over their happiness, they refuse to be happy outside the conditions they seem to have attached to their happiness."

ALBERT CAMUS

In this film, the surprise is that you can be transported from one part of the world to another, from summer to spring, from a quiet forest to a busy urban street.

the albatross

ADAM BROOMBERG AND OLIVER CHANARIN 

Ofttimes, for diversion, the men of the crew 

Capture albatross, vast birds of the seas 

That accompany, at languid, leisurely pace, 

Boats on their way through bitter straits. 

Having scarce been taken aboard 

These kings of the blue, awkward and shy, 

Piteously their great white wings 

Let droop like oars at their sides. 

This winged voyager, how clumsy he is and weak! 

He just now so lovely, how comic and ugly! 

One with a stubby pipe teases his beak, 

Another mimics, limping, the cripple who could fly! 

The Poet resembles this prince of the clouds, 

Who laughs at hunters and haunts the storms; 

Exiled to the ground amid the jeering pack, 

His giant wings will not let him walk. 

CHARLES BAUDELAIRE

A Girl

LE TEMPESTAIRE, JEAN EPSTEIN

The tree has entered my hands, 

The sap has ascended my arms, 

The tree has grown in my breast - 

Downward, 

The branches grow out of me, like arms. 

Tree you are, 

Moss you are, 

You are violets with wind above them. 

A child - so high - you are, 

And all this is folly to the world.

EZRA POUND

Between water and ice, between the liquid and the solid, a new matter is created, an ocean of viscous movements...

JEAN EPSTEIN