Edouard Manet, Woman Reading

Sans cafés et journaux, il serait difficile de voyager. Un journal, un endroit pour frotter durant la soirée les épaules avec d'autres nous permettent d'imiter les gestes familiers de l'homme que nous étions à la maison, qui, vu d'une distance, nous semblent tellement un étranger.
Albert Camus














A painting of Manet that I admire for its perfect balance, Le Chemin de Fer - it's at the Washington National Gallery, I discovered it last time when I was there.

Andre Kertesz, Acasa la Mondrian

(Click here
for the English Version)
M-am dus la el la atelier si am incercat din instinct sa captez in fotografii spiritul picturilor lui. Mondrian simplifica, simplifica, simplifica. Simetria atelierului imi dicta compozitia fotografiei. Avea o vaza cu o floare, numai ca floarea era artificiala. Si era vopsita de el, ca sa se potriveasca in ansamblul atelierului.
[Andre Kertesz, povestind istoria fotografiei 'Acasa la Mondrian']

Abstractionismul extrem al lucrarilor lui Mondrian ne provoaca. Ne dau oare fotografiile facute de Andre Kertesz vreo cheie, ca sa putem avansa cat de putin in descoperirea personalitatii artistice a lui Mondrian? La prima vedere sunt foarte enigmatice fotografiile astea, 'Acasa la Mondrian' si 'Ochelarii si pipa lui Mondrian'. Exista insa in ele referinte subtile... ochelarii grosi... laleaua... o lalea intr-o vaza, artificiala, frunzele vopsite in alb... cu ochelarii lui grosi Mondrian parea mai mult un savant, sau preot, decat artist...

Laleaua artificiala se va fi potrivit cu legenda tesuta in jurul lui... atelierul lui va fi fost un soi de laborator de alchimist, sau o chilie de anahoret... laleua artificiala va fi inveselit oleaca atmosfera... faptul ca laleaua era singura floare pe acolo va fi insemnat ca profanul era de abia tolerat, o floare fiind de fapt exact un pic mai mult decat nimic... sau poate ca din contra, laleaua va fi insemnat ca Mondrian adora in secret profanul...

Oricum, incapabil de a face glume cum era Mondrian, era putin probabil ca laleaua va fi fost o aluzie sarcastica la perioada in care maestrul fusese nevoit sa picteze flori, pentru ca lucrarile lui abstracte nu avusesera cautare.

...

Ipoteze... ipoteze... le-am gasit pe toate insirate intr-un eseu splendid al lui David Sylvester, despre arta moderna.

Stuart Davis, The Paris Bit

(Click here for the English Version)
Pe la zece seara intregul colt avea sa intre in plinatatea vietii lui proprii cu terase pline ochi si cu bine cunoscutii poeti sau pictori beti... falfaindu-se de-a lungul drumului din cafenea in cafenea.
(Morley Callaghan, That Summer in Paris: Memories of Tangled Friendships with Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and Some Others)

Candva prin anii 1920 Callaghan a trait pentru scurta vreme in Paris si a facut parte dintr-o gasca de tineri - mai tarziu avea sa fie cunoscuta sub numele de Generatia Pierduta, The Lost Generation, termen inventat de Gertrude Stein - numai ca pe vremea aceea ei erau exact asta, o gasca de tineri entuziasti si visatori prin Montparnasse. That Summer in Paris este despre ei, despre Hemingway, despre Scott Fitzgerald, despre Joyce - si despre un meci de box! Chiar asa, Hemingway l-a provocat pe Callaghan, care era insa (ca boxer) mai tare, asa ca si-a facut amicul knock-out. Scott Fitzgerald arbitra.

Anii 1920 in Paris, o epoca a carei cronica este in fotografiile lui Brassaï, Kertesz, Man Ray - simti spiritul anilor aceia in picturile lui Stuart Davis, Picasso, Van Dongen, sau Mondrian. Traiesc inca anii aceia, in atatea pagini de Hemingway, Scott Fitzgerald, Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, si Callaghan, si Cowley...

Hemingway si ceilalti, The Lost Generation, Generatia Pierduta si Anii Nebuni, Les Années Folles.

Un film, Les Années Folles, povesteste istoria anilor 1920 in Paris. Regizorul filmului a fost Mirea Alexandresco. Parintii ii erau romani si au trait multi ani la Paris, unde Mirea era nascut. Ei s-au intors in Romania, dar Mirea a ramas sa traiasca in Franta. Parintii mei erau buni prieteni cu ei si imi amintesc cum ne povestea doamna Alexandrescu despre planurile fiului ei pentru film. Asa ca am cunoscut filmul inainte sa-l vad. Les Années Folles a fost terminat in 1960, l-am vazut cativa ani mai tarziu, l-au dat intr-o seara la Telecinemateca . Serge Reggiani era naratorul, si istoria anilor '20 parizieni avea sa raman pentru mine asociata cu vocea lui de bariton.

Multi ani mai tarziu Mirea Alexandresco a venit pentru o saptamana in Bucuresti si ne-a facut o vizita. A venit la noi cu sotia si fetita si am petrecut o seara minunata. Vorbea romaneste binisor, bine inteles cu accent frantuzesc. Un om foarte dragut. A murit prematur, iar Les Années Folles avea sa ramana singurul lui film.

Josephine Baker, Georges Simenon

Et l'amour : si étrangement confortable se trouverait l'amour dans ce café où tout s'arrange pour provoquer des regards et des coups d'oeil.
(Louis Aragon, Le Paysan de Paris)

And love: how strangely comfortable love would find itself in this cafe where everything contrives to provoke looks and glances.
(Louis Aragon, Paris Peasant)

For many of his readers Simenon means Maigret, and Maigret means Gabin, however there was a time, long ago, when l'homme à la pipe was young and was also looking amazingly young. For Simenon - Maigret - Gabin love was a thickness that was not good to catch, however there was a time, long ago, when the writer was crazy about Josephine Baker, and she was crazy about him, too. The photo above was taken in 1925 at La Coupole - only Simenon was already married, so he took the job of part-time secretary of Josephine, to explain to his wife his continual presence near the great dancer.

The relationship didn't last too long, as Simenon was afraid to not become Mr. Josephine - anyway he remained well known not only for his books, but also for his very agitated sentimental life. And if we look for the character of the author, not for his hero, we will find out that the creator of Maigret was in his real life the man who wasn't Maigret.

Some time in the thirties Josephine Baker gave a couple of performances in Bucharest, and the event remained in the memory of the city. A good friend of mine, Marius Dobrin, found this old photo, interesting witness for the impact of the brief presence of Josephine in the Romanian capital.

Andre Kertesz, The Daisy Bar

Les rues étaient abandonnées et humides. Une bruine fine enfermait les lumières dans des halos. Quelques figures se déplaçaient près des maisons. Sur le coin de la rue Montmartre et des Grands Boulevards, un café était encore ouvert.
(Georges Simenon, Maigret et la Jeune Morte)

Le cadavre d'une jeune fille est découvert place Vintimille. Maigret s'occupe de l'affaire, provoquant le mécontentement évident de Lognon, l'inspecteur du deuxième quartier, bien connu par ses complexes d'infériorité et de persécution ; le Malgracieux devra une nouvelle fois s'atteler à des tâches secondaires. Maigret parvient à identifier la victime : il s'agit de Louise Laboine, d'origine niçoise. Dès 16 ans, la jeune fille a tenté sa chance à Paris ; dans le train qui l'emmenait vers la capitale, elle a fait la connaissance de Jeanine Armenieu, Lyonnaise décidée, elle aussi, à vivre sa vie. A Paris, tandis que Jeanine réussissait et parvenait à se faire ouvrir les portes de la haute société, Louise végétait et vivait le plus souvent aux crochets de son amie. Celle-ci a mis fin à cette situation en partant du meublé de la rue de Ponthieu où elles habitaient. Dès lors, Louise a commencé son naufrage : foncièrement honnête et de moralité irréprochable, elle a quitté l'appartement et a sombré dans la misère, lorsqu'elle a appris que son ancienne amie allait faire un mariage avantageux avec Marco Santoni, Italien fortuné. Elle a cherché à la revoir, a reçu d'elle un peu d'argent, ainsi qu'une lettre adressée à son nom, mais remise à Jeanine par la concierge de l'immeuble de la rue de Ponthieu qui ignorait le nouveau domicile de Louise. Cette lettre lui a été laissée par un Américain nommé Jimmy O'Malley. Ce dernier a été le complice du père de Louise, Julius Van Cram, escroc international que la jeune fille n'a jamais connu. Avant sa mort dans un pénitencier américain, Van Cram a demandé à O'Malley de dire à Louise comment elle pourrait entrer en possession de l'argent qu'il a accumulé dans sa vie d'escroc. O'Malley, qui n'a pu retrouver Louise, a déposé pour elle un message dans un bar louche de la rue de l'Etoile. C'est là qu'elle s'est rendue le soir du meurtre, mais le message avait été intercepté par Falconi, patron du bar, Bianchi et le Tatoué, individus peu scrupuleux qui ont profité de la situation. Pour se procurer l'« héritage » à la place de Louise, ces truands ont essayé de lui dérober ses pièces d'identité ; elle s'est défendue et a été tuée par accident.
(Tout Simenon)

The streets were deserted and wet. A fine drizzle enclosed the streetlamps in halos. A few figures were moving close to the houses. On the corner of Rue Montmartre and the Grands Boulevards, a café was still open.

The album had the English version of the text. I thought that a Maigret should be presented firstly in the original version - so I considered translating the text back to French. For wet I choose humide, rather than mouillé. Halos remained halos, and I believe this is also the word used by Simenon. For streetlamps I decided to use lumières - I am sure there is another word, more appropriate.

I found then on the web a summary of the novel - I copied it here, for the sake of all fans of Maigret.

Teo Tarras - Cafe de la Paix

Paintings and music, street noises, flower markets, modes, fabrics, poems, ideas, everything seemed to lead toward a half-sensual, half-intellectual swoon. Inside the cafes, color, perfume, taste and delirium could be poured together from one bottle or many bottles - from square, cylindrical, conical, tall, squat, brown, green or crimson bottles - but you drank black coffee by choice, believing that Paris itself was sufficient alcohol.
(Malcolm Cowley, Exile's Return: A Literary Odyssey of the 1920s)

Cowley lived in Paris for three years and he was a friend of Hemingway and Scott Fitzgerald. Later in life he edited the works of Hemingway, Faulkner and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Very important his introductions to The Portable Faulkner and to Winesburg, Ohio of Sherwood Anderson. His Exile's Return appeared in 1934 and chronicles the general movement by the Lost Generation out of the United States (Wikipedia).

The Hours was firstly a novel written by Michael Cunningham, and then a movie - it is the story of how a book affects the life of three women, living in different epochs: the author, the reader, and the main character. The author is Virginia Woolf (played by Nicole Kidman) - she is starting to write the first chapter of her Mrs. Dalloway, in 1923 in England. The reader (played by Julianne Moore) filters the universe of Mrs. Dalloway through her own universe - other time (1951), other space (California), other experience of life. And the main character of Mrs. Dalloway (played by Meryl Streep) lives in her own universe! - once she was created by the author, she got an autonomous existence, of her own, free to chose her time (2001), her space (Manhattan), her career, her issues. Actually a book has three independent players, the author, the character, and the reader - there are so many Don Quixote as many readers are - and Don Quixote is not only what Cervantes decided. Great authors, (Chekhov is such an example) understood this need of their characters for autonomy and did not impose too many constraints through the plot of their books.

This album on Parisian cafes, that I follow page after page, shows me also the way the universes of the author, of the characters and the reader impact one another. The author, Val Clark, made the selection of the images and of the texts. The characters of the book are great photographs along with great writers. And I see Paris through the eyes of Brassai, Kertesz, Doisneau, Boubat, Man Ray, Dennis Stock, Teo Tarras, each one with its own sensibility, with its own universe. I am looking for the images from the album on the web, sometimes I found other photos, and as I follow the book, I get more and more intimate with the universes of these masters. Then the writers selected in the book, generally belonging to the so called Lost Generation - each one different, with its own memories of Paris - and each one surprising me in a slightly different way.

And as I follow the pages of the album, looking for the photos on the web, finding sometimes others, understanding little by little the universes of these fabulous artists, photographs or writers - all this is filtered through my own life experience, my memories from Bucharest, as well as my present experience - I am thinking at the artists from the album as I am strolling through the streets of Washington - as I am interested also in other lost generations - the generation of Vietnam (Caputo, Herr, Wolff), the generation of Bosnia (Loyd), along with the generation of writers from the Eastern Europe, my generation, who lived under the Communist rule, having our own dreams, obsessions, hopes...

So my reading (so to speak my own Don Quixote) is not only the Paris of Val Clark and not only her selection of artists – my reading is in the same time Paris and DC.

Deux Magots

Cafeneaua Deux Magots si St. Germain des Pres, cele doua dimensiuni opuse ale spiritului francez. Evul Mediu fata in fata cu Parisul laic de azi. Abatia romanica, severa, perfecta in austeritate - la inceput a fost Cuvantul - nu exista alt dumnezeu decat Dumnezeu - si Dumnezeu este in linistea nemiscarii - cauta tacerea pentru a-I auzi Cuvantul. Si peste drum, Deux Magots, le rendez-vous des philosophes.

Am fost acolo intr-o seara cu Mike, inginerul de sunet al lui Family Secrets, cateva scene ale filmului se turnau la Paris si eram acolo pentru o saptamana. Era acolo o librarie mare, La Hune, inghesuita ca un sandvis intre Deux Magots si Cafe de Flore, la etaj aveau o selectie uriasa de carti de arta si de arhitectura. Mike era pasionat de carti de arta si cauta un cadou pentru logodnica lui - ea absolvise o facultate de arte plastice in Italia si lucra acum in domeniu.

I-am vizitat odata la New York, locuiau intr-un apartament extrem de stramt pe undeva prin Brooklyn - am primit mai tarziu la Bucuresti fotografii de la nunta lor. Se mutasera intre timp la Los Angeles, el lucreaza acum la studiourile din Hollywod.

Mike isi facuse alegerea la La Hune, o carte despre Ozu. Aveam sa-l descopar pe Ozu mai tarziu, vazand filmele lui Hou Hsiao-Hsien. Pe vremea aceea nu stiam inca nimic de Ozu (si nici de Hou, de altfel). Era 1999, iar Cafe Silence, filmul lui Hou facut a la maniere de Yasujiro Ozu, avea sa vina de abia prin 2005.

Doua zile mai tarziu, Mike si cu mine descopeream in cimitirul din Montmartre mormantul lui Man Ray, iar Mike a inceput sa imi povesteasca despre Kiki, marea dragoste a lui Man Ray, si despre fotografiile facute de el, Lacrimile lui Kiki, boabe de margaritar, sau Le Violon d'Ingres. Pe piatra de pe mormantul lui cateva cuvinte, Unconcerned but not Indifferent.

Ozu a murit chiar in ziua in care implinea saizeci de ani. Prietenii tocmai venisera la spital sa il sarbatoreasca. Pe mormantul lui este doar o hieroglifa, NU, inseamna neant, nimic, niciunde, venim in viata de pe taramul lui Niciunde si ne intoarcem la sfarsit acolo, pe taramul lui Niciunde. Allan Granville, poetul beat new-yorkez, spunea am fost pe taramul lui Niciunde si am gasit Sensul Vietii.

Am fost intr-alta zi cu Mike intr-o cafenea mititica, i-am uitat numele. Aveam o senzatie ciudata, de vraja, parea ca versuri de-ale lui Eugene Guillevic pluteau prin aer,

Si am vazut atunci o umbra,
Era poate cea mai veche dintre obisnuitii cafenelei,
Si se lasa plimbata de soare, pe un crestet, apoi pe mana mea,
Si cand s-a inserat s-a retras, discreta.

Am in apartamentul meu din Bucuresti o litografie care infatiseaza cafeneaua aceea. Un dar de la Mike, ca amintire a saptamanii extraordinare petrecute in Paris.

Great Journeys

MSN has today a column about the top 10 scenic drives in the US:

Blue Ridge Parkway, linking Shenandoah (Virginia) to West Smoky Mountains (North Carolina)

Hana Highway, in Hawai

Highway 1, in California, on the Pacific Coast

Highway 12, in Utah

Going-to-the-Sun Road, in Montana

Million Dollar Highway, in Colorado

Red Rock Byway, in Arizona

Seward Highway, in Alaska

Sonoma/Napa Valleys, in Northern California

US Route 1, in New England

July 15: Tibet, Iraq, Maureen Dowd, Stem Cells, Finland

The opening this month of the final segment of world’s highest railway, from Beijing to Lhasa, Tibet, is a staggering engineering achievement and a testimony to the developing greatness of China. But it is also the most serious threat by the Chinese yet to the survival of Tibet’s unique religious, cultural and linguistic identity. In the words of a well-known Tibetan religious teacher who died after many years in a Chinese prison, the railway heralds “a time of emergency and darkness” for Tibet.
Richard Gere in NY Times: Railroad to Perdition
He was a writer. He thought he wrote about the future but it really was the past. In his novel, a mysterious train left for 2046 every once in a while... (Wong Kar-Wai, 2046)

Iraqi Olimpic Team Kidnapped

Maureen Dowd has an op-ed "What's up, slut" I've just read it, it's interesting stuff. I should prepare a new entry in my pocket dictionary of the Kossacks. Not now, maybe soon.

Clash over Stem Cell Research Heats Up (WaPo)

Helsinki's offerings are seen at their radiant best in summer, when the sidewalk cafes and the waterside markets are thronged by handsome, hardy people basking in the glow of plentiful daylight. The ambiance can be hypnotic.


The shimmering Kiasma Museum of Contemporary Art at dusk. There is a slide show in today's NYT. Look and enjoy.

Clarendon

(click here for the English Version)
Luminile electrice se aprinsera de-a lungul Bulevardului Saint Michel, iar terasele cafenelelor se umpleau de lume... Noaptea isi aseza mantia-i albastra peste Paris.
(Langston Hughes, The Big Sea: An Autobiography)



Clarendon - cartier in Arlington County, in imprejurimile Washingtonului. Imi petrec uneori serile acolo. Nu e Paris, bine inteles - este o strada, intre doua intersectii - dar are stil, si are un gust sigur pentru savoir vivre.

Oamenii stau pe terasele cafenelelor - Jaleo House, cu sangria si mancarurile tapas, de pilda marisscos, sau Chorizo al vino, ai acolo sentimentul ca esti in universul sudului Spaniei - apoi Cheesecake Factory, cu prajituri si salate uriase si vinuri de cursa lunga - exista in Clarendon si un magazin de vinuri de mare clasa, apoi alte restaurante, fiecare cu personalitatea lui, si cafeneaua - imi place mult sa ma duc acolo, la o masa pe terasa foarte mica, urmarind scena strazii, in timp ce inserarea invaluie totul cu picaturile ei albastre - Langston Hughes povestea de serile lui pariziene - terasele cafenelelor pe Boul Saint Mich, am fost si eu acolo odata, in 1999, Numai ca pentru prea scurta vreme - saptamana a trecut atat de repede ... Parisul lui Hemingway si Henry Miller, al filmelor Polei Rapaport - si imi vine in minte acum o seara in New York, cinemateca de la Gramercy Theater pe strada 23, o prezentare de documentare pariziene vechi, adunate intr-o viata de om de catre Jack Goelman ... Parasesc cafeneaua, libraria este la cativa pasi, m-as duce din nou acolo intr-una din seri - sau poate in Dupont Circle, la Kramer Books - ultima oara am vazut acolo o carte de Philip Caputo, Born in Africa.

Clarendon, sau Bethesda, sau Friendship Heights ... sarmul Washingtonului.

Is David Brooks right?

The G-8 Summit will start in Sankt Petersburg, and many warn about the support Putin will get this way for his authoritarian approach.
David Brooks thinks the conservative restoration in post-communist Russia was unavoidable. He compares the situation with the post-1848 period in Europe - the Revolutions were crushed, the authoritarian regimes were re-established, but they did gradually the reforms claimed by revolutionaries (constitutions, suffrage, welfare). And that because, they knew they had to keep up with the times.

We’re coming into a period of, at best, a gradualist conservative reform. It’s time to come up with a strategy for helping today’s unimaginative autocrats to become new and improved Bismarcks.

Paul Klee at the Phillips Collection

George Calinescu about Liviu Rebreanu: any sentence of him is like keeping some sea water in your hand: colorless and tasteless - but a couple of pages have the din and the struggle of ocean. Two great figures in the Romanian literature, a historian and a novelist, Calinescu and Rebreanu.

Calinescu's words about Rebreanu came into my mind as I was visiting the exhibition of Paul Klee at Phillips Collection. I had seen before a couple of Klee's works, now I was surrounded by tens and tens. The impression was overwhelming.

Hoffmanesque Geschichte, Das Tor zum Hades, Stadt im Zwischenreich, Abstract Trio, Die Angler... Sometimes the grace to be found later at Calder, sometimes a finesse of cloisoneé. Schulhaus and Dorf - Carnaval were reminding me of Chagall.














A painting from 1926, Die Ankuft der Gaukler (The Arrival of Jugglers) brought into my mind the Circus of Calder. The painting of Klee was of course bidimensional, only it gave a spatial feeling, like the sculptural work of Calder. What was marvelous, the spatial feeling in the painting of Klee was not coming from a traditional technique of perspective - his work was organized rather on the way followed by Byzantine icons.

The painting of Klee had in all a diaphanous aspect, like any of his works. I was retrieving this delicacy on each juggler from Calder's Circus.

















Negroid Beauty, a surprinsingly classical work of Klee... Kalte Stadt... Tropische Garden Kultur... Schreck eines Maedchen... Eulenkomoedie, like an overexposed photo... Elephant and Lion (reminding me of Tuculescu)... Oriental Pleasure Garden... Sacred Islands... Kleines Regattabill, white little boats that seem like paper made... The Path into the Blue...

Like other great abstractionists, Klee was looking for something beyond the visible. Malevich or Mondrian tried to find the transcendent by using geometry. Klee followed another way. He was persuaded by the idea that a spontaneous eye could see what's hidden beyond what we see. And this spontaneity can be found if we understand the way primitives and kids look at the universe.You know the famous remark of Picasso, when I was at the age of these children I could draw like Raphael. It took me many years to draw like them. A friend of mine, a Romanian artist working in Chicago, Larry Bonn Phoenix said once that in his simple drawing any kid is trying to communicate to us the essential, in the universal language - and we never understand him.

Klee tried all his life to discover what primitives knew and what kids try each time to communicate to us.

Strada 16

(Click here for the English Version)
Ieri am luat strada 16 cap-coada. M-am dat jos din metro la Mc Pherson Square, in spatele Casei Albe e un parc cu statuia presedintelui Andrew Jackson la mijloc (vajnicul general e imbracat in uniforma si calare pe un cal de piatra) - pe colturi statuile lui La Fayette, Kosciuszko, Von Steuben, Clarambeau (n-am timp acum sa verific orografierea exacta, ma cer scuzat). Cei patru mari eroi europeni ai razboiului american de independenta.
Strada 16 incepe de acolo. Biserica Episcopala a Sfantului Ioan, urmeaza cladirea AFL-CIO. Ajungem la strada K - in dreapta hotelul St. Regis un adevarat Palazzio, arhitectura traditionala, arata nashpa, in stanga un Starbucks. Beau o cafea pe terasa, citesc NY Times. Inchizitia liberala scris de David Broocks - e exact ceea ce gandesc, sorb randurile, kazacii il ataca nedrept pe Lieberman, care este de fapt un democrat responsabil - e bine sa fim moderati si responsabili si sa nu transformam gandirea libera intr-o religie seculara cu popi si cu inchizitie. Spune acolo, this isn't a fight between left and right. It's a fight about how politics should be conducted. On the one hand are the true believers — the fundamentalists of both parties who believe that politics should be about party discipline, passion, purity, orthodoxy and clear choices. On the other side are the quasi-independents — the heterodox politicians who distrust ideological purity, who rebel against movement groupthink, who believe in bipartisanship both as a matter of principle and as a practical necessity.
University Club in Sakharov Place, vis-a-vis National Geographic Society, am vazut acolo acum ceva timp expozitia cu manuscrisul Evangheliei lui Iuda.
M Street, la stanga catedrala catolica Sf. Matei, acolo s-a oficiat slujba funerara pt. Kennedy, in catedrala in care acum ma plimb erau la un loc De Gaulle, Mikoian, delegatia Romaniei era condusa de Gaston Marin. Intr-o duminica era acolo o nunta de oameni foarte bogati, toti barbatii erau in frac, angajasera si un scotian cu cimpoi si fustanela. M-am dus spre el, ii zic, "Holla", zice, "What's up?", zic, "I'm okay, but you buddy, it seems that you have a problem - where are your pants?"
In fine, Scott Circle, in dreapta memorialul unui anume Hahnemann, SIMILIA SIMILARIS CURENTUR, acum sa va vad, latinistilor. Mild Macht ist gross. Aha, meine kleine Katze sufera de matze.
Biserici dupa biserici, baptiste, adventiste, metodiste, unitariene, iar baptiste. 16th Street pare the holly highway.
JCC (Jewish Community Center), la intersectia cu P Street. Picasso's Closet, de Ariel Dorfman, premiera mondiala - ce poti gasi in dulapul lui Picasso, poate pe adevaratul Picasso.
Biserica Universalista, Biserica Unificationista. Strada incepe sa urce. Meridian Hill Park, superb - o fantana a carei apa curge in valuri pe treptele de piatra spre un bazin urias, in dreptul lui Buchanan Memorial. Statuia lui Dante, nel mezzo del camin.
Strada urca spre Columbia Heights - iata si al doilea templu masonic, de rit scotian, masiv ca si primul. Institutul Cultural Mexican, cu o roca de granit in fata - imi amintesc de granitul lui Noguchi de la Galeria Nationala, The Inner Thinking.
Inter American Defence Board, vis-a-vis. Am ajuns la Columbia Road, lumea imigrantilor hispanici. Biserica Unitariana a Tuturor Sufletelor, Salvati Darfurul - afisul troneaza la intrare. Biserica Unificationista (non-denominationala, mi-au explicat cativa tineri acolo, dar nu va mai explic acum).
Santuario de la Sagrada Corazon - in fata statuia cardinalului Gibbons. Si lume hispanica, vesela, colorata, galagioasa, cu tarabe cu dulciuri mexicane.
Gata, destule biserici, si deodata se petrece minunea! O biserica ortodoxa greceasca, a Sfintilor Imparati Constantin si Elena. Arhitectura superba - un colt din insulele Marii Egee. Cat imi doresc sa ajung odata pe acolo! Ma opresc si in minte curg cuvintele unei rugaciuni. In stanga un semn, spre Catedrala Ortodoxa Ruseasca a Sf. Ioan Botezatorul. Mai incolo, arhitectura moderna, Biserica Ortodoxa Antiohiana a Sf. Gheorghe. Un templu budist japonez.
Gata, am ajuns la Carter-Barron Open Air Theatre, vis-vis o arena de tenis superba. Sunt in padure, cobor spre rau, Rock Creek. O iau acum pe asfalt, sau pe poteca? Sigur ca pe poteca - numai ca deodata un copac enorm imi taie calea, rupt de la ultimele furtuni. Ma cobor spre apa, ma tin cu mana de alti copaci, sunt cu bagare de seama pe cateva stanci care se clatina. Dupa ce ajung din nou pe poteca, vad oameni care fac jogging acolo, cu cainii dupa ei. Deh, tinerete. Din timp in timp telefonez la Bucuresti, sa stiu cum merge finala - stai putin ca acum cred ca se termina - au ratat frantujii si Zidane e eliminat - asa, 3-3, asa, 4-3, italienii sunt campioni. Am ajuns la moara lui Pierce, ma sui spre Connecticut Avenue, o masina cu niste italieni isi flutura steagul fericiti.
Si sunt obosit frant.

Kandahar, Kasparov, Vietnam unlearned - Dispatches

Talibans are spirits that come at night - that's how
Kandaharians call them. I'm preparing something about Kandahar, only I'm taking my time. Don't panick. I am just reading The War Gone By I Miss It So, by Anthony Loyd, speaking about other wars, in Bosnia and Chechnya - great book - so honest - humanity at its best and worst - the fascination for violence and cruelty, the fear, the illusory gap between participants and viewers in a war, between killers and victims - fantastic book - I will come back to it - and I am trying to read the blog of this Sarah Chayes, the blog of Kandahar.

What's bad for Putin is good for Russians (the
opposite is true, too) - anyway, Kasparov says.

And Bob Herbert thinks that some lessons from Vietnam remained
unlearned. I am about to read the Dispatches of Michael Herr. I have ordered it on the Amazon - only it takes time to arrive.

16th Street and Columbia Heights

Italy won the World Championship after a fabulous finale. My heart was for the French team, but here is the beauty of soccer - you never know up to the end.

Only I watched the game in a very weird way - I was on the 16th Street, then on the wooden banks of Rock Creek, I was calling Bucharest from time to time on my cell, to keep me updated with the evolution of the score.

It's a long time I was dreaming to take the 16th Street from start to the end. I did it at last.

I left the metro at the Mc Pherson Square, near the White House.

There is a park behind the White House - the statue of president Andrew Jackson in the middle - the general is dressed in his military uniform and riding his horse. On the corner of the park, four statues: La Fayette, Kosciuszko, Von Steuben, Clarambau, they came to fight in the Independence War, the four great European heroes of the American War for Independence.

16th Street start with St. John Episcopal Church, followed by the AFL-CIO
building.

Then comes the K Street - with the elegant Capitol Hilton Hotel, a splendid Palazzio, I take place across, at the terrace of a Starbucks - in the NY Times an op-ed by David Brooks: The Liberal Inquisition. It's just what I think, Kossaks attack Lieberman unrigthly - the Connecticut senator is only a balanced man who tries to not convert politics into a fundamentalist religion.

The University Club in Sakharov Place, across the National Geographic Society. I was there some time ago, to see the manuscript of Judas Gospel.
The American Chemical Association, and I am crossing the M Street. On the left the Saint Mathews Catholic Cathedral. The funeral service for president Kennedy was there, in the huge church were together De Gaulle, Mikoyan, the Romanian delegation was led by Gaston Marin. I watched then the service on the Romanian TV.

I was one day here - there was a very high class wedding, gentlemen with tuxedos, even tail coats. On the stairs at the entrance there was a bagpiper, with kilt, of course, so I went to him and said teasingly, Hola amigo, he smiled and answered What's up, I'm fine, I replied, only you buddy seem to have a problem, he started to laugh, he was very young and understood my joke.

The Scott Circle (Massachusetts and Rhode Island Avenues) and the Hahnemann Memorial (SIMILIA SIMILBUS CURENTUR - well, it seems Latin to me), Die milde Macht ist gross, Mild Power Is Large - and I remembered the op-ed written by David Brooks - I don't think Lieberman is wrong in his approaches.

First Baptist Church, Bar Rogue (with lots of kind-of Venus copies in front). The CTIA (The Wireless Association). The Carnegie Institution. The FOUNDRY Church.

P Street with the JCC (Jewish Community Center) - a world premiere here, Picasso's Closet, by Ariel Dorfman. What could we find there, in his closet? The real Picasso, maybe?

The Swedenborgian Church of the Holy City, and the Masonic Temple. The Universalist Church. Follows the City within the City, which starts with the Trinity Religious Temple Church. Wow, it seems here is the Holly Highway!

And the 16th Street starts to go up toward Columbia Heights. And I find out here a splendid park, I didn't know of it at all, the Meridian Hill Park, with a splendid fountain - the water flows down on stone stairs to a huge pool in front of the Buchanan Memorial. And the statue of Dante is nel mezzo del camin.

Now I am crossing the Euclid Street, with the Inter American Mutual Defense Board on one corner. Across is Howard University Meridian Hill Hall, and the Mexican Cultural Centre, with a huge granite in front (reminding me of the Inner Thought carved by Noguchi, in view at the National Gallery)

The Scottish Rite Temple, as massive as the other Masonic one, followed by the Unification Church (the Peace King Center, a non-denominational church, as some youngsters explained to me), and across the Unitarian Church (of All Souls, with a huge poster in front, Save Darfur).

Now the 16tht Street is crossing the Columbia Road. We are in Columbia Heights. Naturally, the National Baptist Memorial Church, and the Meridian Hill Baptist Church across.

The Santuario del Sagrado Corazon, with a statue of cardinal Gibbons in a very small park - and I am suddenly inside the Hispanic world, full of noise and joy.

The Mount Zion Church, the Church of God, okay, enough churches! The Greek Orthodox Church of Saints Constantine and Helen. Its superb architecture reminds me of the churches in Egeean islands. I 'd so much like to be there some time! Words of a short prayer are flowing through my mind.

A sign, on the left a Russian Orthodox Cathedral, of Saint John the Baptist.

Then the Orthodox Antiochian Church of Saint George - a very modern architecture. Too bad it's closed.

The Church of the Nazarene, a Japanese Buddhist Temple, and at last, the road to the Carter-Barron open air theatre. I am now within the woods! Calls in Bucharest from my cell, to find out the results form France-Italy. I am descending to the Rock Creek, there is an asphalt trail and a horse trail, I choose the second, very soon a huge tree lies on the path, it's there from the terrible storms of the last week, I have to go down to the banks of the creek - finally I arrive at the Pierce Mill - the result of the soccer game is 4-3, the last two goals marked while I am on the cell.

Again in the city, on the Connecticut Avenue, towards the Van Ness-UDC metro station. A car with the Italian flag. That's the beauty of soccer - the ball is round and the chance is changing.

Andre Kertesz, Mondrian's Glasses and Pipe

Through its simple means, pure abstract art can attain the objectivity of ornament, the purity of geometric construction, the spontaneity of the child. But to be art, the subjective must be manifested through the objective, the apparently mathematical must be free, spontaneity must be consciously expressed.
Piet Mondrian, 1929

I was today at the Phillips Collection to see again the two compositions by Piet Mondrian they have there. Geometrical abstractionism? Minimalism? His compositions consist of rectangular forms of red, yellow, blue, or black, separated by thick, black, rectilinear lines. What is there, beyond this extreme simplicity?

I believe, said Mondrian, it is possible that, through horizontal and vertical lines constructed with awareness, but not with calculation, led by high intuition, and brought to harmony and rhythm, these basic forms of beauty, supplemented if necessary by other direct lines or curves, can become a work of art, as strong as it is true.

Mondrian's art is intimately related to his spiritual preoccupations - he was extremely interested in theosophy. Helena Blavatsky (her work had a profound influence over Mondrian) believed that it was possible to attain a knowledge of nature more profound than that provided by empirical means.

The two compositions by Mondrian are to be found usually in the same room with a couple of works by Paul Klee, and a splendid Blue Room, by Picasso.

Only today the arrangement was changed. The Blue Room of Picasso was in another place - and the works of Klee were also moved - there was a Paul Klee exhibition, with works gathered from different American museums and collections.

Today I found Mondrian in the company of Stuart Davis (Still Life with Saw). Two other works of Stuart Davis (Blue Cafe and Corner Cafe) were in another place, near a room devoted entirely to Soutine.

Phillips - the collection of masterpieces in downtown DC - Giacometti, de Kooing, Pollock, Gottlieb, Noland, Modigliani, Matisse, Cezanne (Mont Sainte Victoire, reminding me of the Mount Fuji of Hokusai), Braque, Rouault (with a portrait of Verlaine), Degas, Vuillard, Bonnard, Redon, Van Gogh ...Siskind, Kline ... a Repentant Saint peter by El Greco, and a replica by Goya ...

And I like John Sloan with his Staten Island ferry-boat.

And the Rothko room ... they had in mind the Mark Rothko - Barnett Newman Chapel from Houston, Texas, that I saw only in albums.

At the entrance of the Collection, a bronze by Arp, a Helmeted Head, with strong influence of Brancusi.

As for Paul Klee, let's talk about him in another post ...

July 8th

A Drive to Root Out the Resurgent Taliban





A Voice from Kandahar Sarah Chayes, author of the forthcoming “The Punishment of Virtue: Inside Afghanistan After the Taliban,” has been living in Kandahar for almost five years.

Explozie produsa de o bomba la Tiraspol

Ziarul NY Times de vineri 7 iulie anunta ca la Tiraspol o explozie produsa de o bomba a distrus un autobuz : 7 morti si 26 raniti grav. Este posibil ca numarul mortilor sa creasca. Conducerea transnistreana nu poseda informatii care sa ataseze vreo "culoare politica" acestei explozii - asa a declarat generalul Antiufeiev intr-un interviu telefonic. Guvernul Republicii Moldova a exprimat condoleante si si-a oferit sprijinul - dar mesajul a fost returnat de catre conducerea de la Tiraspol.

July 7th

What does North Korea want?


Lieberman

July 6th

Popular News Anchor Leaves Video Blog Site


















A Driven President faces a World of Crises












The Myth of New India

Race for 2008

Who wants a shot? Race for 2008 is open. See also the Fix for Rice.









Spinning the Revolution
about the Founding Fathers










Disunited States of America by John Tierney




Lieberman may run as an independent. Read also here. Senator's Plan B creates quandary (a state of perplexity or doubt) for Dems.

The Bookstore at the Corner of the World

The Bookstore at the Corner of the World: One night I was returning home by metro - the rail was out of order and we were announced to leave the train. I followed the other passengers and got out of the station. It was midnight, and we were in a very distant corner of Washington. A bus appeared suddenly from nowhere and we took places in it. I was expecting the bus will go down the Connecticut Avenue, to reach Dupont Circle. It took a detour, and we found ourselves on the Corner of the World: 18th Street, full of small restaurants, Latino, Turkish, Asian, full of people - the immigrants crossroad of Washington, I was the first time there.

I came back the next day to visit the place, and I discovered Editorial El Mundo: you were passing through a hole in the wall, and your were among the books of Marquez, of Borges, of Vargas Llosa. Books are moving sands - you open a book always at another page and get lost inside. Editorial El Mundo was always a journey that had no end at sight.

Now the bookstore closes. It was sold, and the new owner will move it in another city, Manassas, in Virginia. There is a nostalgic column here in today's Washington Post.

Googleplex again

Googleplex again: Googleplex is an amazing infrastructure for an amazing search engine.
To be closer to its users and speed response time, it is building a worldwide string of data centers, including a huge site in The Dalles, Ore., with technologies it designed to reduce its ravenous need for electricity. These computers in turn use software developed with advanced tools that Google also designed itself. There are signs that Google is even preparing to create its own custom microchips.

Felicia Antip: Great Photos

Somewhere near Rochester, New York, Sid set out to bag his buck at 5:30 a.m. By 11:30 a.m., he was exhausted and hungry--and still no buck. At 12 noon, the mighty hunter Sid guards the remains of his lunch while a passerby snaps a quiet photo while trying not to startle the deer with a belly laugh.




Shot from the USS HONOLULU (Los Angeles-class fast attack submarine) at the Arctic Circle, 280 miles from the North Pole--is there anything that scares a polar bear?

It's always nice to have rock solid information on the weather . .

A definite entrepreneurial spirit . .

Dan Romascanu - Syriana - tema interesanta, format gresit

Dan Romascanu:
Syriana este un thriller politic care abordeaza o categorie de teme
extrem de relevante pentru lumea contemporana - comertul cu petrol,
politica marilor companii americane inclusiv coruptia din spatele
manevrelor de achizitie si contopire, manipularea regimurilor arabe,
terorismul. Inspirat dintr-o carte de Robert Baer si regizat de
Stephen Gaghan, scenaristul lui Traffic, alt film sa-l numesc
semi-docu-drama despre lumea traficului de droguri si a luptei
anti-drog, Syriana are o pozitie politica clara critica la adresa
politicii petrolului dusa de corporatiile si guvernele americane in
colaborare cu regimurile arabe 'prietene'. Poti fi de acord sau nu cu
politica filmului, nu poti nega ca este o tema importanta pentru viata
fiecaruia dintre noi, si un subiect minunat pentru un thriller
politic.

Din pacate rezultatul nu este si un film bun. Fara a fi un esec,
Syriana greseste incercand sa spuna si sa aduca pe ecran prea mult.
Cel putin patru fire de actiune complexa se deruleaza in paralel, si
se intalnesc si devin semnificative unul pentru celalalt numai in
final. Fiecare ar fi putut fi subiectul unui film separat, si poate ar
fi fost mai bine. Asa, cu toate ca sunt un fan al genului, m-am
pierdut destul de repede in meandrele actiunii, mi-a fost greu sa
urmaresc multitidinea de personaje si sa le inteleg motivatiile. Cu
exceptia a catorva scene puternice ca rapirea in Beirut a personajului
jucat de Clooney, si a jocului eficient a unor actori de talia lui
Clooney, Plummer sau Damon, filmul scade in intensitate dupa prima
jumatate de ora si cand finalul soseste la sfarsitul a doua ore de
vizionare este aproape prea tarziu.

Syriana pare sa fi gresti formatul. Complexitatea temelor abordate
era poate mai potrivita unui serial de tipul 24 dar nu lucreaza bine
aici. Tezismul autorilor este bine camuflat de jocul actorilor, dar
dintre filmele recente din aceeasi categorie, Lord of War de exemplu
cu Nicholas Cage mi s-a parut mult mai concentrat si si-a atins mai
bine tinta.

Great Wall

Over the weekend

Excommunication Is Sought for Stem Cell Researchers Cardinal Lopez Trujillo, head of a group for family-related policies in the Catholic Church declared recently that stem cell researchers should be considered automatically excommunicated.
Destroying an embryo is equivalent to abortion. Excommunication is valid for the women, the doctors and researchers who destroy embryos.
The Vatican did not comment. But the declaration of Cardinal Lopez Trujillo could be an indication on how the Catholic Church intends to treat this problem.

More Episcopal Dioceses Reject New Female Leader. There is an increasing conflict within the US Episcopal Church between the liberal and the conservative wings. The newly elected presiding bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori, is contested by the conservatives, due to her positions in the very sensible issues such as open gay bishops and same sex marriages - and not only. Recently she spoke about Mother Jesus in a sermon.

To those who accuse her of heresy for referring to a female Jesus, she responds with a typically learned disquisition on medieval mystics and saints who used similar language, including Julian of Norwich and St. Teresa of Avila. I was trying to say that the work of the cross was in some ways like giving birth to a new creation. That is straight-down-the-middle orthodox theology. Yet she acknowledged that she likes to shake people up a bit. All language is metaphorical, and if we insist that particular words have only one meaning and the way we understand those words is the only possible interpretation, we have elevated that text to an idol, she said in a telephone interview. I'm encouraging people to look beyond their favorite understandings.

Life, Liberty and Open Lanes. John Tierney considers that the US Interstate highway system needs two reforms: the related taxes to be kept by the states, and electronic tolls with higher pricing at peak hours.


Rumblings from China. Nicholas D. Krystof thinks the economical growth of China will not last long. Reasons: Rise of labor costs, rapid aging of China's population.
Says Mr. Krystof, The upshot is that I sense more fragility in the system than at almost any time in the 23 years that I've been visiting or living in China. Party officials say they feel it, too, and I think that's why the leadership is so reluctant to devalue the yuan: it doesn't want to risk factory closures, job losses and unrest.

Another column in NYT related to China: President Hu Jintao marked the Chinese Communist Party's 85th anniversary by advancing their new official doctrine - xianjinxing, which translates literally as advanced nature. He said, History proves that only when the party maintains its advanced nature can it push forward both the party's and the people's mutual interests, develop advanced production and advanced culture, and realize the interests of the vast majority of the people. In the same time Mr. Hu issued a strong warning - rampant corruption could erode the party's popular legitimacy and undermine its hold on power.