Monday, April 30, 2012

I'll Stay Here

I'll stay here lying on your bed,
even for the rest of my days.
With its side empty spaced,
where you once used to stay.
Have you ever noticed the glimpses upstairs?
These rooms are all that matter.

And on the walls there's pictures screaming
and ask me what I've done to seem
so amused by the way of having done nothing today.
They all have their eyes covered up with paint.
Their room is all that matters.

I can walk up the walls,
but can't make water out of wine.
So I'm desperate for some cold rain
to wash those hands of mine.

I'll stay here listening to the crowds
and hear the footsteps and the shouts.
But it's all passing me by,
tangled up in my own lie.
Have I missed the clue of your brave escape?
For this is what - you said - matters.

Some other town,
some other day,
some other clown,
coming up her way.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

You don't know my mind

Walking down the levee with my head hangin' low
Looking for my mama but she ain't here no more
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying


She won't cook my dinner, won't wash my clothes
Won't do nothing but walk the road
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying


My breakfast on the table and my coffee's getting cold
And mama's in the kitchen getting a sweet papa talk
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying


Sometimes I think my baby's too good to die
Sometimes I think she should be buried alive
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying


I wish I had a nickel, I wish I had a dime
I wish I hadn't give myself a fabulous time
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying


Look at you mama, see what you got it done
You got my money now you broke and run
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying


You made me get mad and you made me get sad
The going gets tougher than you aint never had
Baby you don't know, you don't know my mind
When you see me laughing, I'm laughing just to keep from crying.

Hugh Laurie

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Stories of the street

The stories of the street are mine
The Spanish voices laugh
The Cadillacs go creeping down
Through the night and the poison gas

I lean from mu window sill
In this old hotel I chose.
Yes, one hand on my suicide
And one hand on the rose.

I know you've heard it's over now
And war must surely come,
The cities they are broke in half
And the middle men are gone.

But let me ask you one more time
O children of the dust,
These hunters who are shrieking now
Do they speak for us?

And where do all these highways go
Now that we are free?
Why are the armies marching still
That were coming home to me?

O lady with your legs so fine
O stranger at your wheel
You are locked into your suffering
And your pleasures are the seal.

The age of lust is giving birth
But both the parents ask the nurse
To tell them fairy tales on both sides of the glass

Now the infant with his cord
is hauled in like a kite
And one eye filled with blueprints
One eye filled with night

O come with me my little one
And we will find that farm
And grow us grass and apples there
To keep all the animals warm

And if by chance I wake at night
And I ask you who I am
O take me to the slaughter house
I will wait there with the lamb.

With one hand on a hexagram
And one hand on a girl
I balance on a wishing well
That all men call the world

We are so small between the stars
So large against the sky
And lost among the subway crowds
I try to catch your eye

Leonard Cohen

Friday, April 27, 2012

Ritter, Dene, Voss

Ritter, Dene, Voss by Thomas Bernhard

The title of Thomas Bernhard’s play “Ritter, Dene, Voss” comes from the surnames of the three actors who premiered the roles in 1986: Ilse Ritter, Kirsten Dene and Gert Voss.

 It is worth noting as well that Ritter means “knight” and Voss is an aristocratic surname from the fourteenth cenutry. This is significant because “Ritter, Dene, Voss” is a play about the death of the Viennese ideal of urbane aristocracy and the horrible, beautiful flowers that bloomed in the rotting dung heap of post-World War I Austria.

The story is set in a stately old mansion where two sisters await the arrival of their brother Ludwig, who is returning from a mental hospital for the first time in a long while. They are rich, dilettantish actresses, who have never had to feel the sharp pinch of necessity. Consequently they are utterly neurotic and typically Viennese.

Their brother is a haute bourgeois Prometheus: a tortured genius, he is beautiful, frail, effeminate, and the author of the most important work on logic ever written.

The entirety of nearly three hours is composed of rants and recriminations between the three of them, denunciations and defenses of the hypocritical social order, and a painful because impossible search for “truth.”    [ source ]


Ritter, Dene, Voss, according to La MaMa, "explores sexual repression and sibling rivalry with characteristic tenacity and wit. The play involves two sisters – both actresses – and their attempts at reintegrating their volatile brother into their home.

The brother, a tormented genius (loosely based on last century’s great, idiosyncratic philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein), has just returned from a mental health institute, complicating the dynamics between the three siblings."

About the author:

Thomas Bernhard (born Nicolaas Thomas Bernhard, February 9, 1931 – February 12, 1989) was an Austrian novelist, playwright and poet. Bernhard, whose body of work has been called "the most significant literary achievement since World War II," is widely considered to be one of the most important German-speaking authors of the postwar era.

Thomas Bernhard was born in 1931 in Heerlen, Netherlands as an illegitimate child to Herta Fabjan (née Herta Bernhard, 1904–1950) and the carpenter Alois Zuckerstätter (1905–1940). The next year his mother returned to Austria, where Bernhard spent much of his early childhood with his maternal grandparents in Vienna and Seekirchen am Wallersee north of Salzburg. His mother's subsequent marriage in 1936 occasioned a move to Traunstein in Bavaria. Bernhard's natural father died in Berlin from gas poisoning; Thomas had never met him.

Bernhard's grandfather, the author Johannes Freumbichler, pushed for an artistic education for the boy, including musical instruction. Bernhard went to elementary school in Seekirchen and later attended various schools in Salzburg including the Johanneum which he left in 1947 to start an apprenticeship with a grocer.

Bernhard's Lebensmensch (companion for life), whom he cared for alone in her dying days, was Hedwig Stavianicek (1894–1984), a woman more than thirty-seven years his senior, whom he met in 1950, the year of his mother's death and one year after the death of his beloved grandfather. She was the major support in his life and greatly furthered his literary career. The extent or nature of his relationships with women is obscure. Thomas Bernhard's public persona was asexual.

Suffering throughout his youth from an intractable lung disease (tuberculosis), Bernhard spent the years 1949 to 1951 at the sanatorium Grafenhof, in Sankt Veit im Pongau. He trained as an actor at the Mozarteum in Salzburg (1955–1957) and was always profoundly interested in music: his lung condition, however, made a career as a singer impossible. After that he began work briefly as a journalist, then as a full-time writer.

Often criticized in Austria as a Nestbeschmutzer (one who dirties his own nest) for his critical views, Bernhard was highly acclaimed abroad.

His work is most influenced by the feeling of being abandoned (in his childhood and youth) and by his incurable illness, which caused him to see death as the ultimate essence of existence. His work typically features loners' monologues explaining, to a rather silent listener, his views on the state of the world, often with reference to a concrete situation. This is true for his plays as well as for his prose, where the monologues are then reported second hand by the listener.

"Es ist alles lächerlich, wenn man an den Tod denkt" (Everything is ridiculous, when one thinks of Death) was his comment when he received a minor Austrian national award in 1968, which resulted in one of the many public scandals he caused over the years and which became part of his fame.

Even in death Bernhard caused disturbance by his, as he supposedly called it, posthumous literary emigration, by disallowing all publication and stagings of his work within Austria's borders.
[ source ]


Photos and Video are from the Greek Adaptation of the play:

Ρίττερ, Ντένε, Φος Δράμα του Τόμας Μπέρνχαρντ
Σκηνοθεσία: Δ. Καταλειφός, Ρ. Οικονομίδου, Αν. Κοκκίνου, Π. Παπαδόπουλος.
Ερνηνεύουν: Ρ. Οικονομίδου, Άν. Κοκκίνου, Δ. Καταλειφός.
Μετάφρ.: Ι. Μεϊτάνη.
Σκην.: Εύα Μανιδάκη.
Φωτ.: Αλ. Γιάνναρος

Stories From The Streets

Ah the stories from the streets
They make their way up to your window
Re-awaken certain memories
This way you re-live them again and again

One will change into the other
Untill you don't know what is real
And it's true, you've gone full circle
And it's not the first time you've been here


Fall back on a wave
Alive and well
It folds and it turns
It breaks, it burns
It all happens once again

I will go this way
You will go that way
What's it to you?

I will go this way
You will go that way
Who's gonna stop you?

It's true you have been thinking
Whatever it took you to get ahead
And the people you wish to remove yourself from
Well you sometimes turn to them instead

It's all for no good reason
Except to just keep passing on

Ah the stories from the streets
You ain't got no idea where they come from

Fall back on a wave
Alive and well
It folds and it turns
It breaks, it burns
It all happens once again

I will go this way
You will go that way
What's it to you?

I will go this way
You will go that way
Who's gonna stop you?


Thursday, April 26, 2012

April's Exhibitions

NIKOS MARKOU | Monumenta Naturalia

The new photographic work of Nikos Markou extends the research developed by the artist in his previous shows. He highlights a broader natural reality which surpasses human agony, but without concealing it.

The artist’s aim is not the recognizability of the landscape but he is interested in the inner contemplation. Landscapes of harmony are being composed by elements of chaos and images of deceptive “totality”, are being overturned in their inside by the existence of diverse details, as in the image with the geese. The full moon in the middle of the monochromatic night sky seeks Geometry as basic rule for comprehend-ing the world.
[ source ]

MINDY SHAPERO Blinded by the Light

The Breeder is pleased to present Mindy Shapero’s new exhibition “Blinded by the light” hosted in the gallery from the 7th of April 2012 to the 2nd of June 2012. The exhibition will be introducing sculptures, objects and large paper works giving a manifold outlook on Shapero’s onerous latest creations.

All of her works rotate around a complex mythology she herself created in the last decade. By drawing upon the homonymous Bruce Springsteen song for the title of the exhibition Shapero propositions a narrative intention, a vade mecum for the spectator to follow.

 “Blinded by the light” is an imaginary object central to Shapero’s mythology, a talisman so powerful that one goes instantly blind when looking at it with both eyes. The only rescue is to resist the magnetic urge to look at it or to approach it with an eye patch.
[ source ]

Maria Milona - "My Soureal Work (life is a circus)" - Booze Cooperativa

Manolis Charos, "Acropolis, the Monk..."

Zoumboulakis Galleries presented “Acropolis, the Monk and some new works”, the latest solo exhibition by Manolis Charos. A series of paintings and 3-dimensional, made from 2008 to 2012. His works constitute a unit chosen carefully and create an assemblage of visual language and reflection as they bear the signs of our time. They comment our reality, meditate and invite personally every viewer to travel into the artistic world of the artist.