Sunlight slows down Europeans. Look at all those spellbound people in Seurat. Look at Monsieur, sitting deeply. Where does a European go when he is 'lost in thought'? Seurat - they old dazzler - has painted that place. It lies on the other side of attention, long lazy boatride from here. It is a Sunday rather than a Saturday afternoon there. Seurat has made this clear by a special method. Ma Methode, he called it, rather testily, when we asked him. He caught us hurrying through the chill green shadows like adulterers. The river was opening and closing its stone lips. The river was pressing Seurat to its lips.
(Anne Carson. Short Talks. Short Talk on Chromo-luminarism. 15)
- See: Artists
Short Talk on Aura
Drippings cause chaos. Ask Pollack before he crashed into catastrophe. Where does an artist go before facing death? Pollack moved to the rhythm of dark places. He splashed and dripped with obsessive precision marking timeless patterns that comfort the pain of loss. Sometime on the eighth day or eighth sense the swinging stopped. The colour of experience denies destiny making us all exiles. The irony is he caught us swinging from the rafters of the murdurous twentiteth century scaffolding. The mountains swallowed softly and quietly the sun. The mountain pressed Pollack to her lips.
(Raymon Montalbetti. Short Talks. Short Talk on Aura.)
:: note :: ... behind is Benjamin ..