my son, my son, what have i done

ivan the terrible killing his son
by ilya repin
 

on november 19, 1581 he struck his eldest son in a violent fit of rage, a blow which proved fatal. a broken man. he never slept properly again, but roamed the palace at night, in terrible remorse.

a known thief and murderer

unforgiven
directed by clint eastwood

 

cinematography by jack green
written by david webb peoples
starring clint eastwood, gene hackman, morgan freeman

for sure it’s the valley of death

 

svarte krossar
i kvite snjo
luter i regnet gruve

hit kom dei døde
yver klungermo
med krossar på herd
og sette dei frå seg
og gjekk til ro
under si klaka tuve

olav h. hauge – svarte krossar

 

it went like this:

the buildings tumbled in on themselves
mothers clutching babies
picked through the rubble
and pulled out their hair

the skyline was beautiful on fire
all twisted metal stretching upwards
everything washed in a thin orange haze

i said, “kiss me, you’re beautiful -
these are truly the last days” 

and we fell into it
like a daydream
or a fever

godspeed you! black emperor – the dead flag blues (excerpt)

 

painting is cloister graveyard in the snow by caspar david friedrich.
image from the cover of gybe’s f# a# oo album.

a room of souls

 

all paintings by vilhelm hammershøi. “the weirdest soul ever to grace danish painting.”

a lonely voice

for some reason, art is inevitably accompanied by melancholy. perhaps because art is always memory. an artist who paints a portrait recollects the person. when a composer writes a symphony or even a small nocturne, inevitably he recalls sentiments that inspired him to create music. the mechanism of art is always memory.

- aleksandr sokurov

painting by rembrandt

an evening stroll with friends

 

Hardware store. Rev. Smith is entering.

Sol: Reverend Smith.
Rev: Evening, sir. (Turns to Seth) Evening.
Seth: Reverend.
Rev: I watched goods in the tent this uh, this structure replaced while Messer’s Bullock and Star first took in the camp.
Seth: You sure did.
Sol: What can we do for you, Reverend?
Rev: I’m in a quandary, gentlemen. Are you Messer’s Bullock and Star?
Sol: In the flesh.

(Seth gets up from his desk to stand next to Sol, crossing his arms on the way.)

Rev: You are the absolute images of them, gentlemen. But what makes me afraid is I do not recognize you as my friends. And, naturally, I am afraid.
Sol: What are you afraid of, sir?
Rev: I don’t know what’s happening to me. I have various ailments, and i suppose this is a further ailment, but of what sort, I don’t know. And I’m afraid if you are devils, which-which I don’t believe you are, because you were the kindest men of all in the camp to me. But if you were devils, I suppose that-that would be the-the-the type of shape you would take, and – and if you are not devils, I… Then I am-I am simply losing my mind. And with my other ailments, I am concerned and afraid.
Sol: Alright, Reverend.
Seth: We’re the people you met the night you watched our goods. I’m from Etobicoke, Ontario.
Sol: I’m from Vienna, Austria.

(The Reverend’s face lights up.)

Rev: Wonderful.
Seth: You’re here with friends.
Rev: Yes. Yes, I feel that now. And I have various ailments of which we all suffer.
Sol: And next morning, often finds us feeling better.
Rev: Yes. In any case, part of God’s plan.
Seth: May we walk you back to your tent, sir?

(The Reverend smiles)

Rev: An evening stroll with friends. I would so enjoy that.
Sol: Let’s go then.

(They get their hats, Seth gets his jacket as well and blows out the oil lamp, taking a lantern with him. Sol takes the Reverend by the shoulder and guides him out to the porch.)

 

a transcript of my favorite scene from the hbo series deadwood. portraying reverend smith is actor ray mckinnon. it is a heartbreaking performance. as we follow his decline throughout the first season.

and our lives tell the truth

eastern promises
directed by david cronenberg

 

a truly beautiful film. subtle, but powerful. it doesn’t shy away from violence. nor does it gloss over it. as seems to be the trend in today’s action-oriented films. you’re not let off the hook. cronenberg portrays murder for what it is. “an act of absolute destruction of something unique.” the film centers around the russian mafia. in the world of the london streets. it is astonishingly photographed by cinematographer peter suschitsky. and features the yearning musical score of howard shore, a gateway into the mystifying realms of the russian soul. the film stars viggo mortensen, naomi watts, armin mueller-stahl and vincent cassel. all mesmerizing in their subtlety.

the last evening of the year

the little match girl

 

she saw them now as bright stars in the sky. one of them fell down, forming a long line of fire. “now someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to god.

she rubbed another match against the wall. it became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely. “grandmother!” cried the child. “oh, take me with you! i know you will disappear when the match is burned out. you will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big christmas tree!” and she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. and the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. she took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear – they were with god.

but in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. the new year’s sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. the child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.

“she wanted to warm herself,” the people said. no one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright new year…
 

an excerpt from h.c. andersen’s den lille pige med svovlstikkerne, as translated by jean hersholt. illustration by arthur rackham.

the invisible in bresson pt.1

journal d’un curé de campagne
directed by robert bresson

 

cinematography by l.h. burel
based on the novel by georges bernanos
starring claude laydu as the title priest

all that is, was and will be

god whispers into the ears of some men,
but he shouts into mine!

 

no key. it’s common time, molto adagio, sotto voce. first violin, quarter notes. middle c up to a. measure. g up to c, tied, f. second violin, bar two. middle c up to a. double note e, g, c. viola clef, 2b pressed. it’s a hymn of thanksgiving to god, for sparing me to finish my work. after the pianissimo, the canon resumes. first violin takes the theme. viola, c to a. it’s growing, gaining strength. second violin, c to a, an octave higher. then the struggle. first violin, c, up an octave, and then up to g. and the cello, down. pulled down. half notes, f, e, d. pulled constantly down. and then, a voice, a single frail voice emerges, soaring above the sound. the striving continues, moving below the surface. crescendo. first violin longing, pleading to god. and then, god answers. the clouds open. loving hands reach down. we’re raised up into heaven. cello remains earthbound, but the other voices soar suspended, for an instant in which you can live forever. earth does not exist. time is timeless. and the hands that lifted you caress your face, mold them to the face of god. and you are at one. you are at peace. you’re finally free.

 

a recording of beethoven’s helliger dankgesang

 

the late string quartets – the budapest string quartet in concert at the library of congress – 1940-1960

 

listen

 

all images and text from agnieszka holland’s copying beethoven