12tTH INTERNATIONAL ARCHITECTURE EXHIBITION

The 12th International Architecture Exhibition, directed by Kazuyo Sejima and titledPeople meet in architecture, will run in Venice 29th August to 21st November 2010(preview on 26th, 27th and 28th August).
Two major projects will be developed for the 12th Exhibition: the Architecture Saturdays (a series of conversations, performances and weekly discussions with architects and critics) and the greater involvement of the Universities (educational opportunities for students of Architecture, Engineering, Design, etc.).

The Women of the Avant-Garde / Avant-Garde All the Time : The Poetry Foundation

http://feeds.poetryfoundation.org/~r/AvantGardeAllTheTime/~5/TuSBCBLaen0/AGAT-WomenOfAvant-part1-10-19-09.mp3

ELEGY I

Elegy I: By Dryden

For mighty wars I thought to tune my lute,

And make my measures to my subject suit.

Six feet for ev'ry verse the muse design'd,

But Cupid laughing, when he saw my mind,

From ev'ry second verse a foot purloin'd.

"Who gave thee, boy, this arbitrary sway,

On subjects, not thy own, commands to lay,

Who Phoebus only, and his laws obey ?

'Tis more absurd, than if the queen of love

Should in Minerva's arms to battle move;

Or manly Pallas from that queen should take

Her torch, and o'er the dying lover shake.

In fields as well may Cynthia sow the corn,

Or Ceres wind in woods the bugle-horn;

As well may Phoebus quit the trembling string,

For sword and shield; and Mars may learn to sing.

Already thy dominions are too large;

Be not ambitious of a foreign charge.

If thou wilt reign o'er all, and ev'ry where,

The god of music for his harp may fear.

Thus when with soaring wings I seek renown,

Thou pluck'st my pinions, and I flutter down.

Could I on such mean thoughts my muse employ,

I want a mistress, or a blooming boy.

"Thus I complain'd; his bow the stripling bent,

And chose an arrow fit for his intent.

The shaft his purpose fatally pursues;

" Now, poet, there's a subject for thy muse,

"He said: (too well, alas, he knows his trade,)

For in my breast a mortal wound he made.

Far hence ye proud Hexameters remove,

My verse is pac'd, and tramell'd into love.

With myrtle wreaths my thoughtful brows enclose,

While in unequal verse I sing my woes.

ICICLES ROUND A TREE IN DUMFRIESSHIRE

by Ruth Padel

We're talking different kinds of vulnerability here.
These icicles aren't going to last for ever
Suspended in the ultra violet rays of a Dumfries sun.
But here they hang, a frozen whirligig of lightning,
And the famous American sculptor
Who scrambles the world with his tripod
For strangeness au naturel, got sunset to fill them.
It's not comfortable, a double helix of opalescent fire
*
Wrapping round you, swishing your bark
Down cotton you can't see,
On which a sculptor planned his icicles,
Working all day for that Mesopotamian magic
Of last light before the dark
In a suspended helter-skelter, lit
By almost horizontal rays
Making a mist-carousel from the House of Diamond,
*
A spiral of Pepsodent darkening to the shadowfrost
Of cedars at the Great Gate of Kiev.
Why it makes me think of opening the door to you
I can't imagine.No one could be less
Of an icicle.But there it is -
Having put me down in felt-tip
In the mystical appointment book,
You shoot that quick
*
Inquiry-glance, head tilted, when I open up,
Like coming in's another country,
A country you want but have to get used to, hot
From your bal masquй, making sure
That what you found before's
Still here: a spiral of touch and go,
Lightning licking a treeImagining itself
Aretha Franklin
*
Singing "You make me feel like a natural woman"
In basso profondo,
Firing the bark with its otherworld ice
The way you fire, lifting me
Off my own floor, legs furled
Round your trunk as that tree goes up
At an angle inside the lightning, roots in
The orange and silver of Dumfries.
*
Now I'm the lightning now you, you are,
As you pour yourself round me
Entirely.
No who's doing what and to who,
Just a tangle of spiral and tree.
You might wonder about sculptors who come all this way
To make a mad thing that won't last.
You know how it is: you spend a day, a whole life.
Then the light's gone, you walk away
*
To the Galloway Paradise Hotel. Pine-logs,
Cutlery, champagne -
OK, But the important thing was making it.
Hours, and you don't know how it'll be.
Then something like light
Arrives last moment, at speed reckoned
Only by horizons: completing, surprising
With its three hundred thousand
*
Kilometres per second. Still, even lightning has its moments of panic.
You don't get icicles catching the midwinter sun
In a perfect double helix in Dumfriesshire every day.
And can they be good for each other,
Lightning and tree? It'd make anyone,
Wouldn't it, afraid? That rowan would adore
To sleep and wake up in your arms
*
But's scared of getting burnt. And the lightning might ask, touching wood,
"What do you want of me, now we're in the same
Atomic chain?" What can the tree say?"
Being the centre of all that you are to yourself
-That'd be OK. Being my own body's fine
But it needs yours to stay that way.
"No one could live for ever in
*
A suspended gleam-on-the-edge,
As if sky might tear any minute.Or not for ever for long.Those icicles
Won't be surprise any more. The little snapped threads
Blew away. Glamour left that hill in Dumfries.
The sculptor went off with his black equipment.
Adzes, twine, leather gloves.
*
What's left is a photo of
A completely solitary sight
In a book anyone might open.
But whether our touch at the door gets forgotten
Or turned into other sights, light, form,
I hope you'll be truthful
To me. At least as truthful as lightning
,Skinning a tree.


THIS POEM WON THE 1996 National Poetry Prize

I CRAVE YOUR MOUTH .....

I crave your mouth...

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Pablo Neruda

EMPEROR TANG-SKEPTIC

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Emperor Tang -- Skeptic
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CLOSER than my body's shadow
Follows the blind nameless One,
Carrying in his tightened, yellow fist
Time, the thin sputtering candle,
And in his swollen cheeks
Death, the grey wind.
So fill and refill my deep, golden horn
With the strongest wine,
O wise men of China,
Before declaiming in magnificent verse
My immortality,
That I may nod,
My eyes glittering with dreams,
And believe --

Paul Eldridge

OSCILO 1

Tanja Vujinovic (Tatjana Vujinović Kušej) is a visual and sound artist born in 1973 in ex-Yugoslavia.
Education2006 - to present Faculty of Humanities Koper, University of Primorska. Slovenia — postgraduate studies in Philosophy and Theory of Visual Culture.1994 -1999

Faculty of Fine Arts, (Gordan Nikolic/Momo Antonovic class), Belgrade, Serbia —

Bachelors Degree, 1999.1998 - 1999 Kunstakademie Duesseldorf (Jan Dibbets class), Duesseldorf, Germany — Guest Student.198Tanja Vujinovic

http://www.exstat.org/video-sound-works_files/Oscilo-DOE507.swf

Oscilo consists of objects which each provide a different kind of sound by means

of touching or moving objects that contain pick-up microphones, miniature sound

producing devices, or loudspeakers. The length and intensity of the tactile contact

affect the audio signals produced.

MUSICAL RHYTHM

Khien Yimsiri

Musical Rhythm, 1949,

Bronze, 55 x 38 x 38 cm.

Khien Yimsiri1922-1971
born in Bangkok
graduated from Silpakorn University, Bangkok/Academy of Fine Arts of Rome, Italy
Khien Yimsiri was among Professor Silpa Bhirasri's first students and has taken an immense interest in Thai art and cultural education. He was one of the first to influence the direction of development in contemporary art in Thailand.
.
Khien benefited greatly from education and extensive travel abroad, particularly during 1949 when he spent a year in England studying sculpture at Chelsea School of Art in London under the guidance of world renowned sculptor, Henn. Moore. He also spent two years in Italy studying sculpture and art history (1953-1954).
The character of Khien Yimsiri's modern traditional sculptures differ completely from his realistic sculptures. In fact, the beauty of line, volume and shape that is intrinsic in the Buddha images of Sukothai School has made a very deep impression on Khien Yimsiri. His study and research about art in this era helps him to acquire a profound understanding of the timeless beauty in Buddha images.
Apart from his remarkable sculpture Musical Rhythm (1946), Land of Smile (195O) was one of his masterpieces. This work of art was very important because it not only received a gold medal in 195O, but it was also representative of Thai people, peaceful people with generous hearts.

Music from Thailand & Laos - Lak Paed Song

Music from Thailand & Laos - Mekong River Song

Found at bee mp3 search engine
Embed Code

	Music from Thailand & Laos - Mekong River Song
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

GUIDO BOGGIANI

The milanese Guido Boggiani (1861-1901) of the northern italian society, journalist, pianist and painter, awarded with very important prizes . Very praised by the great italian poet and writer , Gabrielle D'Annunzio, adventured whit him to the Greek Islands. On a very luxury yacht which sailed them, Boggiani portrayed the classic ruins, at the time that he was being introduced to the mysteries of a new born art, the photography. Boggiani has passed away at he age of 40, at the Chaco(PAraguay), with his skull cracked by an indian stone ax. After being deadly wounded, he was decapitated, as a way of the impeding his soul to make witchcrafts, according to an indian belief. Almost an year passed till an italo-paraguayan mission found his bones

THE BLUE-WHITE GULLS

Among the Blue

Somehow I wish could say
it was indifference not love
that found the coordinates
for cormorants among the blue
the blue-white gulls

tell you that we have lived once
and will not come this way again

say to you that as long as art
teaches language of recovery
eternal reminders of morning
will grow on our sweat, spume,
tick softly on our lips, on our lips.

Gerry McGrath was born in Helensburgh, near Glasgow, in 1962 and studied at Strathclyde University before becominga teacher. He now lives in North Ayrshire with his wife, Kate, and young son, Liam. He worked as a teacher of modern languages for seven years until 2000. He received a Robert Louis Stevenson Memorial Award in2004. His poems have appeared in Edinburgh Review, Being Alive, in Painted, Spoken and in PN Review, and a selection were published in Carcanet's New Poetries IV: An Anthology (2007).

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SEAMUS HEANEY

Seamus Heaney born 13 April 1939 is an Irish poet, writer and lecture and who was awarded theNobel Prize in Literature in 1995. He currently lives in Dublin



small bird

chirp-chirruped:

yellow neb,

a note-spurt.



Blackbird over

Lagan water.

Clumps of yellow

whin-burst!

LAJOS PARTI NAGY

Lajos Parti Nagy

He was born (1953) in Szekszárd, Hungary. teacher of literature and history from Pécs University before going on to edit the Pécs-based journal of contemporary, Hungarian literature, Jelenkor (The Present). He began his literary career as a poet and has been writing prose and drama since the early 1990s. He written and adapted a number of works for the stage as well as his own original pieces, (adaptations of works by Caragiale, Hauptmann, Kroetz, McDonagh and Moliere). He lived in Berlin in 2001-2002 on a DAAD scholarship Lajos Parti Nagy , contributed to the reinvention of the Hungarian, literary language and his works always present something new and memorable. His recent works ,Hősöm tere (My Hero's Square - published in German in 2000 as Meines Heldenplatz), Grafitnesz (Graffitness - poems, 2003) and A fagyott kutya lába (The Frozen Dog's Leg - short stories, 2006). Kossuth Prize and the Hungarian Literary Prize.

Speaking in terms

Speaking in terms

of perspective,

infinity

finally turns

the parallel

of our lines

into a point,

but in terms of

railway sleepers,

endlessly linked

and kept apart

we are both

running on

our own.

Wild Geese Descending to Sandbar, Chosôn dynasty (1392–1910)Unidentified artist (late 15th–16th century)KoreaThe title identifies the work as one of the Eight Views of the Xiao and Xiang Rivers, a poetic theme traditionally associated with the Northern Song painter Song Di

This painting takes as its inspiration a poem, inscribed in Chinese characters in the upper right corner after the four-character title:

On the frozen frontier is a hail of arrows,

Along the Golden River [Jinhe] there are no rice fields.

Brothers one and all, flying down in skeins,

After ten thousand li, they arrive at Xiao and Xiang.

The distant waters shine like reels of silk

The level sands are white as glinting frost

.At the ferry quay, no one is about,

Close to the setting sun, the geese descend ever more gracefully.

(Translation by Roderick Whitfield)–ca.

HAGIWARA SAKUTARO

At dayFor all the startling beauty and originality of his work, Hagiwara remains a poet of the dark; a native of that extraordinary world where Dylan Thomas' question ("Isn't life a terrible thing, thank God") really needs no answer. Shiveringly sensitive to loveliness in all its million modes, he finds it not only in its familiar haunts but even in such unexpected subjects as a rotten clam or the dead body of an alcoholic. A man intensely aware that the sun, that symbol of Japan, rises as much to cast shadows as to give light, his early self-portrait establishes the tone of all his later work:

Sad in the ailing earth,
Tongue-tender with despair,
Green moves through grief's grimace;
And, sick and lonely, there
In the gloom of the under world
,At the bottom of the world, a face.

The Most Primitive Feeling

In the depths of this jungle one can see
Fronds of the great
Gum-trees lounging leadenly:
Like ears of elephants
Their leaves luxuriate.
In this damp and dim-lit place,
Towing their shadows like a trawl,
All kinds of fern embrace
Wetly. All kinds of plants
Sprawl out upon each other. All
Kinds of reptiles, kinds of snake,
Frog, lizard, salamander, newt
Maul in the clammy gloom to make
Slithering absolute.
From the sad longing of mid-day
For what did Adam yearn,
To what dank dawn look back?
The feeling of primitiveness
Is like a cloud, an endless
Endlessly darling love.
It flows away
Past reasonings of return,
Endless and endlessly.
On the far-off other bank
Of the river of memory,
There is no glade nor grove
Nor landing place nor plank
To pin this feeling down.

EZRA POUND

Canto XLIX: For the Seven Lakes

For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses:

Rain; empty river; a voyage,

Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight

Under the cabin roof was one lantern.

The reeds are heavy; bent;

and the bamboos speak as if weeping.

Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes

against sunset

Evening is like a curtain of cloud,

a blurr above ripples; and through it

sharp long spikes of the cinnamon,

a cold tune amid reeds.

Behind hill the monk's bell

borne on the wind.

Sail passed here in April; may return in October

Boat fades in silver; slowly;

Sun blaze alone on the river

.Where wine flag catches the sunset

Sparse chimneys smoke in the cross light

Comes then snow scur on the rive

And a world is covered with jade

Small boat floats like a lanthorn,

The flowing water closts as with cold. And at San Yin

they are a people of leisure.

Wild geese swoop to the sand-bar,

Clouds gather about the hole of the window

Broad water; geese line out with the autumn

Rooks clatter over the fishermen's lanthorns,

A light moves on the north sky line;

where the young boys prod stones for shrimp.

In seventeen hundred came Tsing to these hill lakes.

A light moves on the South sky line.

State by creating riches shd. thereby get into debt?

This is infamy; this is Geryon.

This canal goes still to TenShi

Though the old king built it for pleasure

K E I M E N R A N K E I

K I U M A N M A N K E I

JITSU GETSU K O K W A

T A N FUKU T A N K A I

Sun up; work

sundown; to restdig

well and drink of the water

dig field;eat of the grain

Imperial power is? and to us what is it?

The fourth; the dimension of stillness.

And the power over wild beasts.

TRANSLATION OF THE NIGTH

Jean-Joseph Rabearivelo.

Born in March 4, 1901, Tananarive, Madag.he died in June 22, 1937, place Tananarive) Malagasy writer. Largely self-educated, he earned his living as a proofreader for a publishing concern. He wrote seven volumes of poetry in French, of which Near-Dreams (1934) and Translation of the Night (1935) are considered the most important. The mythical and surrealistic world created in his poems is intensely personal and dominated by visions of death, catastrophe, and alienation. Harassed by French authorities and addicted to drugs, he committed suicide. He is regarded as the father of modern literature in his native land.


"And the drum is ready
when gladioli crown
the horns of the delivered calf
who bounds
and grazes the hills of grass.

There it will resound,
and its incantations will become dreams ...

from Translated from the Night:#3


9



The secret hives are aligned
near the lianas of heaven,
among the luminous nests.

Gather nectar there, bees of my thoughts,
little bees winged with sound
within the pregnant cloud of silence;
laden yourself with resin
perfumed with stars and wind:
we will seal all the gaps
communicating with the tumult of life.


Laden yourself also with stellar pollen
for the prairies of the earth;
and tomorrow, when there will be wreathed
the wild roses of my poems,
we will have celestial rose hips
and sidereal seeds.

PLACES WHERE I NEVER BEEN

Probably never see, so I let my imagination go where they are .....

Madagascar

Is legendary wildlife and flora,Isolated from the continents 160 million years ago, Madagascar followed a unique evolutionary path into enormous tortoises elephant birds, and lemurs. Lemurs were the highest primate formon the island until the Malagasy people, of Afro-Polynesian ancestry,arrived a mere 2000 years ago. Though divided into at least 18 tribes or clans, the Malagasy share a belief in the power of dead ancestors.This belief explains the importance of tombs and funerals. Although the form differs among the clans, it is after the first burial that the Malagasy honour their dead. The best-known ceremonyis the famadihana of the Merina people, a joyful occasion to communicate with a loved one whose remains are exhumed and wrapped in a new shroud. Some of the world’s most unusual birds are found only on Madagascar – gorgeous ground-rollers,the diverse vanga family, the couas.

ZOMBIES ON MY SHOULDER

Zombies On My Shoulder Posted by Jim Macdonald

Zombies in the graveyard make me fearful,

Zombies ‘round the farmhouse make me sigh

Zombies munching mommy make me angry

Zombies in the mall can make me die.

If I had a gun that I could give youI’d give to you a gun

that’s just like mineIf I had a torch that I could light for youI’d light that torch so you could see it shine.
Zombies in the graveyard make me fearful

Zombies ‘round the farmhouse make me sigh

Zombies munching mommy make me angry

Zombies in the mall can make me die.

If I had a car that I could drive for youI’d weld on armor and a big plow blade

And if I saw you bitten by a zombieI’d cut your fucking head off with a spade.
Zombies in the graveyard make me fearful,

Zombies ‘round the farmhouse make me sigh

Zombies munching mommy make me angry

Zombies in the mall can make me die.
Zombies almost always make me fearful, mmmmmmm….