« Arts, Ideas, Lives, Thoughts & Poems »
- RENAISSANCE -
My desire is writing, poetry .... ideas, a thought towards the philosophy of the mind ...
"The poet, transcends his emotions, sees bigger than the ordinary everyday, changes scale, for a painter, his emotions become sensitive harmonious colors, the writer transforms a seemingly ordinary everyday into a multitude of inner feelings more or less strong, his reality is transcended. He exposes his soul. Daily life feeds the poet who lets himself go to his deep nature, to his liberating aphorisms ... "
"The dream world is the irrational world. We meet its ghosts of the past loaded with puzzles where the keys remain to be discovered, plays with present realities."
My Art - "The world of my Art"
"My emblem is the Rose, its delicacy with a feminine character, its cheerful colors in the colors of love, red and pink, with a sweet scent and subtle scents, dressed in a fresh morning dew."
"My drawing is the drawing of emotion which aims to shape what is most perfectible in humans, what characterizes it, defines it, which is specific to the definition of it. This, a sensitive being, a poetic being. "
"My research in drawing would be a double quest, that of beauty and, in the search for the poetic being and the two together being the perfect harmony of the ideal being, of the dreamed being. The desire to an artist inspired by the beauty emanating from beings. "
"The practice of my art is a quest towards excellence, towards perfection, without end, and for the sole objective of achieving it."
Nude or curves or artistic desire
The nude or drawing of the living is an arduous discipline where chance is not advised.
The nude requires listening to yourself and the model. Your pencil suggests your ideal, your sensitivity, your emotions or the line transcribes what our mind synthesizes, perceives with an emotion line.
Then the successive curves which we evaluate, measure the intensity ; the rendering suggests you such the observation of a landscape on the motive the perfect agreement to put in place to seduce or surprise yourself or your audience and fervent admirers.
Matisse a brilliant art of simplicity and grace:
"The Art of Matisse is an art with no frills, what defines it is an art that always tends towards grace, the strength of colors and simplicity in the Matissian language ."
"I would like to draw the feeling, the delicacy of a hairstyle the attraction of a radiant face the feeling it gives off, the joy, the sadness, the melancholy, the elusive soul of a unique being, the interiority of a being in his privacy. "
The eternal woman, of eternal youth:
"The woman should be of an eternal youth presenting her best attractions, the radiant face of freshness with the soft contour, delicately drawn to better see beautiful curvatures which draw the chin and the neck as well as the hollow near the eyes which continues to draw a nice descending nose with protruding lips in pretty colors "
- "La Rêverie is essential to any creator, the painter accesses it by creating a poetic world with harmonious colors, a play of soft colors in the image of certain paintings by Balthus;" Le rêve I & II "," La Tireuse de Cards "," Young girl at the window "; landscape," Bouquet of Roses on the window "; still life," Fruit on a window sill "…"
"My Art reconciles me in the world, art magnifies the beauty of life and its deep meaning ..."
"In my Art, I bring up an external truth to better reveal, glimpse, discover an internal truth or to better detect the interiority of beings."
"Corroborating Rodin's words about what Art must be, finding the truth which must be either an external or internal truth, I aim in my work to achieve both external beauty and also reveal internal richness, perfection would be to reveal the two truths with a result magnifying them beyond reproach.
The goal would be to aim for both, in its fullness. "
"The approach of the artistic nude, that is to say the practice of drawing, is a science of emotion and a search for the truth of the model, one's own which is to be discovered, where the present moment remains to be revealed, to find his truth, his inner self ... "
"Art must be the expression of freedom: to practice art well, this one in its realization must be simple and offer to the artist all the paths (Keys) of freedom, to exercise it in a way successful .”
"The presence of a thing and even more of a being, a person, is essential. The artist confronts his subject, analyzes his model to dissect it, to extract from it, its harmony, the lightness of the lines (Face), its sweetness, its generosity, what a moment of life offers us, immortalize the present moment, the ephemeral, the elusive, seize the grace of a being, it is to approach the domain of the gods, inaccessible places by mere mortals, that is, conquering Olympus. "
"The greatest of journeys are interior, traveling the path of oneself."
"In Art or in other areas, seeing naked truth is disturbing, but essential for those who discover it, vital and necessary for self-fulfillment."
"The exercise of truth: Approaching the truth is a difficult exercise, a tortuous path where one must overcome obstacles, those identifiable in the near present and the others that remain to be overcome in the sphere of the hypothesis, or the future truth may be revealed by effort. "
"The true face of the truth discovered can be rich in teaching (even negative); The only truth is oneself ..."
"Art allows you to reclaim your past and renew your vision of the present and future, a way to revolutionize your personal image, your vision of yourself."
"Everyone has a different approach to art, but it seems to me for it to be true, it must touch the most essential things for his soul and not be any reality that has no importance for himself or for others ...
"What would be great art, it could be the bringing together of pictorial art with great music, musical art and we would call them total art."
"Drawing is a view of the mind that has no ages, the mind perhaps of an insolent youth ..."
"Pictorial art, painting, is an art, if one masters it in the manner of the great masters, requires the art of composition which is a learned art. A successful and elegant composition is an art of great mastery and sensitivity; the position of a hand, an arm, a foot, a body, the profile of a face perhaps of refinement, of unequaled beauty. "
"Painting saves the soul of the painter."
"The painting of a painter is a reflection of his intimate soul."
"Love to its secrets from the domains of the gods. ( Or reserve to the domains of the gods.)"
"When you have genius, you can have some flashes."
"I think I have some hidden talents ..."
"In the search for art, when you practice it, you gradually acquire a 7th sense for me, because I think I have a 6th sense that is in me ..."
"A love not transfigured into art is a love not rendered useful or useless or dried up from the origins of its very essence, not revealed."
"An old love is a treasure to discover, to reveal, the best to serve you is art."
"A love of youth or a first love is an unsuspected treasure."
"The woman and her curves to her delicious attire a flower or a morning rose have no less charms."
"Perfection is perhaps made women where the harmonious and learned curves as well as the finesse of the body and the spirit defy the masculine character."
"Sarah has one day qualified you the feminine and masculine soul in its truth and its exactness of the being where what defines them in their deep being in their inner self."
"The femininity delicate features, a perfect musical harmony with the sweetness and pleasure in equal recognizable to great operas."
"In love, youth makes you love the soul and the beauty of a young person; his appearance and the reflection of his virgin soul that time could transform, harden or make ugly caused by the trials of life."
"The youth of superior to this is that everything is possible, conceivable, and its attractions still virgin of the defects of the uncompromising and rigid characters of a character solidified and frozen in time."
"Eugène Fromentin by his multiple hidden talents is a master of romanticism as he would say: 'a master of the past.'"
"Destiny was apparently all mapped out for Charlie's heroes, consecration, glory, but a very tragic end awaited them or death is blind executed by his shadow servants."
"A country where everything is possible where new and innovative ideas allow the individual to be realized and fulfilled without barriers in a spirit of conquest and pioneer is a country of the future, evolving, growing, rich of the added value of the citizens that this nation forms.
It is the blood of a healthy nation, whose youthful spirit can overcome and fearlessly conquer all the challenges of the future ... "
"A territory, a space has borders when the human spirit does not have any, its imagination is inexhaustible, is constantly renewed. The spirit is rebellious and seeks to discover what there is at the end of a path, what hides behind infinity. The new frontier to explore is the human spirit each billion men on our planet is a New World to discover by his spirit, it can be very surprising at the same time very close to his humanity and elusive by his vitality and his surprising logic of his spirit. Man or humanity is distinguished by his spirit, a spirit that seeks his freedom, his identity, his independence and can show compassion. Man is Man / Spirit. "
"The painter is the witness of time, with the sweet profile of a seated young girl, in shimmering colors, long hair, crossed hands, the landscape parading rapidly, in hurried moments which are our era with the jerky looks of a train running on the sunny horizon. "
"The reserve and the shyness of a young girl, with a complexion blushing with delicacy, with the purity of the sacred characters of the portraits of the great masters of Madonnas all imbued with holiness."
One day in Paris
- France, dear France.
- France, land of freedom and expression.
- Paris, capital of love and our cherished freedom.
- Oh ! You Paris, this ugly and bruised Black Friday…
- Paris, capital of artists; Chagall, Picasso, Manet, Pissaro , Cézanne, Sysley , Van gogh , Fromentin, Chasseriau , Rodin, Ingres, Matisse, Léger, Balthus, Balzac, Hugo, Zola, Proust…
- You, oh! Capital of arts and letters.
- You, beautiful lady with a refined taste, your immaculate white dress, reddened and struck by monstrous fury.
- No, France, the beautiful rebellious, proud of her values that bring hope and freedom…
- The monstrous beast with a dark design will not triumph.
- You are beautiful, outraged, abused, you will smile, facing the hideous beast.
- The souls of innocent people struck in the heart will shine in the sky.
- You, with your army of shadows, you will not satisfy us. Men and women with freedom-loving minds will not let you do it.
- Barbarism and savagery will not win.
- The minds blinded, of rage, of blood, and of fury will not see the light, promised to the cold blackness of darkness.
- The bruised sweet souls will light up the heavens like countless fields of stars lighting up our path promised to a future filled with hope…
Florence, my beautiful friend.
- My dear friend, to your smile that everything embellishes.
- I would run near your memory.
- Your smile or your eyes reddened with tears, laughter and sadness.
- Your zest for life and your heart filled with tenderness and sadness.
- Yes, you, my dear friend, I loved you madly.
- Always close to you, in our tender moments.
- Your figure in the wind, embellished by your charming clothes.
- Always dressed in taste, in harmony.
- We were made to meet, I should have asked you for an engagement.
- We often laughed, your beautiful eyes under the sun in the King's gardens at Versailles.
- On a sad day, we were surprised by the vagaries of life.
- Far from your eyes, my loving memory, I was only a ghost from the past.
- It was then that everything turned upside down.
- I hope your heart is not too wrinkled.
- Your heart filled with hope and sadness. I am always by your side.
- One day will tell, as for your happy coming, I would go in your arms to kiss you.
To you, dear Lionel,
I am saddened, we are all saddened this day, we who crossed your path.
You who had your own philosophy in existence.
Faced with the shadow, the irony of life, you knew how to take the necessary detachment.
Your fight which was yours, I shared it, we are all respectful of your strength.
Your memory tells me that you won this battle. I would have liked to see you conquer, other adventures and the success that awaited you.
You will be an example for me.
The path you have traced with strength and determination enlighten us in the face of difficulty, the desire for success to be accomplished.
You who had a taste for discretion, for anonymity, I would have liked to know you a little more, despite our complicity in the work.
Your smile of complicity and generosity will be the image of your memory.
Life should always be stronger, always winning.
I now have tears in front of your evocation that I would have liked still real ...
The melancholy being
"Sadness, melancholy is a feeling difficult to achieve on a drawing, an indescribable feeling is something possible to transcribe by the line is almost unimaginable by other means. One can approach it, but not make the faithful representation, apart from that of the image which puts you in the state of consciousness of the person. "
To Conquer, a Goal to Reach
"Aim for a goal in order to overcome all the obstacles that seem to be an inescapable ditch and persist obstinately there relentlessly. Break down the difficulties one by one, overcome or foil the losing patterns, return each failure to victory. Ward off the law of failure, the fatal logic of formatted and destructive "evil spirits" who could believe themselves in a state of de facto superiority, by their dominant position, like the bird of prey. "
What is a truth, and the laws ?
"A truth is made to share, to verify itself, it is accepted by all, this, recognized by skillful minds, it is studied, verified, validated ...
But this does not make it a truth any more, the truth is a matter of point of view, of culture, which could not be governed by any law, such as the laws of physics which governs our world, our universe, without which would collapse, like the new theories unlike the Big Bang, the big crunch ...
Imagined by a most brilliant and innovative mind Stephen Hawking very great mathematician and physicist of our era of the 21st century beginner.
A haven of peace
"A haven of peace, a place to withdraw outside the big cities is a place of appeasement, the property of some free spirit, is independent. Nowadays, this is noted exception, which would like to be shared by a circle of exceptional man like the great bourgeois residences of the 19th and earlier ... "
"Liberty, banners and claims affirmed by some, is a sought-after value, is waved today like a standard, a flag. The stars of freedom or the enlightened minds which affirm with strength and conviction by writing and reflections. And not as a public and institutionalized idea is, in my opinion, the best sowers, and the lights for new ideas for the emergence of a new position in favor of independence of mind and greater freedom. Like the spirit of the enlightenment of men who remained free from the 18th century, or Jean-Jacques Rousseau who was the inspiration and the ideologist of the French Revolution.
Woman Is Emotional
- "The woman who wants to be free spirit is independent. With original seductive and extravagant, brand hoisted up by the luxury industry, and beauty. The feminine spirit is unpredictable, sensitive, and emotional which makes its exception and its value. The feminine imagination is unfathomable so much it is charged with emotion, but it can be with the antipodes and charged with the coldness of the iciest ... "
Childhood Romantic Time
The time of recklessness, or this golden past of youthful times is a world full of romanticism from the first discoveries. The memory of childhood is a photo with slightly blurred looks, as the emotion of this time remains sensitive, and idealized.
This lost and dreamed world with romantic memories is in each of us. We recreate this universe with sweet dreams of a time when all things seem immortalized ...
The smile of Jean-Marc Nattier's portraits or Adelaide the daughter of Louis XV
The accent of the sweet, inimitable accomplice smile of young women in the painter's sought-after outfits, of the noble people of the court of Louis XV.
These tables with characters and soft colors with a light landscaped background, 18th color or stands out silhouettes where we guess pretty shepherdess or a young woman dressed in a hat and a floral dress with a pretty white bodice near d 'a stylized hamlet with a taste for the times.
The touch of Nattier's brush is a delicacy lost highlighting the colorful attitudes of a light pink. The atmosphere that reigns in the paintings where time seems to stop, to come to a standstill to better reveal an art of living, a gentle time with calm and peaceful atmospheres, where the hands of passing time no longer count, frozen time does not do more than one.
The sensitivity and emotion all restraint of his painting evokes a time when everything was important, the refined taste and the detail of the pretty things present open the imagination to the time of lights. This 18th century where the lightness of things and spirit was a taste in French, the French Spirit.
Balthus, the painter with feminine softness, of a lost time
Balthus painter with mysterious and intimate accents.
In the sweet portrait of the complexion of a languid young girl. The shyness and innocence of a dreamy young girl exposed. With soft shimmering pastel harmonies of portraits or landscapes and still lifes.
The softness, the freshness of his painting is a search, of a lost time, where innocence rubs shoulders, like a profile of a young girl, with calm features, where the personality and the strength of the spirit are revealed. Content of the young model.
It must be the whole spirit of a painter of another time like Balthus, to find time, of a lost time.
Being revealed or unconscious
The unconscious is our deep self.
Its inner being is the reflection of our soul, revealing it to bring to light the depth of its being, its gushing light or its darkness at the bottom of the abyss.
Touch the light or reveal it in a space of an eternal instant with poetic accents, where the light irradiates you and floods your field of space in a bursting burst.
The unconscious revealing state puts your reach your field of consciousness at an unsuspected level, reveals your desires and your fears in their initial state of their emotions, in all its original strength and purity.
Being is revealed in its beauty by the unconscious, without calculation or premeditation of any kind.
The mirror of our soul, or the unconscious or the revealed self, is a powerful field, without notions of values, clinging to our deepest desires ...
Poetry or "the Painter of Venus"
Alain Bonnefoit like Matisse reincarnated, transports us with his nude drawings in pure poetry where words are powerless, the lines revealed in a soft harmony of colors exalt bodies and minds in innocence with soothing reflections.
The feminine subject, its mysteries, its innocence, its sensuality exacerbated without modesty with frightening curves, reveal to you, the feminine being in all its power.
Portrait of a young woman
A young woman, in her nature preserves her shyness, her being is the reflection of her pure soul.
His curiosity, his freshness, his tranquility, in the gaze of his distant thoughts, scrutinizing the landscape parading on the horizon.
The breath of his breath exhaled, a sudden look suddenly lost, then his imposing posture affirms his young character.
And in a gentle rest close your eyes in a soothing invasive sleep.
My mother tongue, French
Like a sweet nursery rhyme, you appropriate your language, your being, your identity, your own self. Language and like a little inner voice that reflects its own image.
The language sings its culture, its distinctions which make all its belonging to a spirit, the spirit of its values; in measure and in subtlety recognizable by a musical air while finesse, the French spirit.
MODIGLIANI or the sacred gaze
In this effervescent Paris where all creative minds are bubbling.
An artist who predestined himself for sculpture chose painting out of spite, he wanted to be an aristocrat of art, a romantic philosopher of Bohemia.
Seekers of the lost soul, with multiple feminist portraits. Jeanne icon with accents of purity. Eternal Muse, absolute being, dreamed ideal desire the ideal of an artist.
Blue eyes, with saving pictorial deformations, the artist's sensitivity must correct nature.
To be revealed in its primary truth, without artifices, the lost soul shines, witnessing the life of a soul, disembodied look, where painting is stronger than life.
The void takes its form in a revealed being, only the appearance of a body remains, only facing the world of the painter, the sole master of a destiny torn from the injustices of life.
Only grace, an untouchable value, has no eyes on its heart.
Love and its mysteries are the unique object of his painting. His painting is an absolute search for a love quest and seeks to unveil the mystery of love.
Death wants to seduce him while he dreams of life, unable to meet the obligations of existence.
Hubert Robert (1733-1808)
Painter of the old regime with magnificence
Hubert Robert with a picturesque taste for nature became a member of the French Academy in Rome, French art studies on the motif and one of Robert's main subjects with one of his fellow students Fragonard who went there willingly gives up.
Painters of Architecture has the sweet melancholy of ruins, true poetics, the ruin witness to the completion of all human civilizations with the keen eye of the times to come which awaits us.
Sensitive painter "La Lingère" oil composition in the 18th spirit like Fragonard with a more pronounced taste of poetry in the shimmering colors of brown and red of Venice with decorations masterfully orchestrated in all its simplicity, lightness of the fabrics of the beautiful linenwoman, with the delicate profile, with the released neck, with the raised hair, as well as the rolled-up sleeves, one discovers there a pretty raised arm holding the sheet of the hand delicately suggested until the fingers.
Scene implemented by pretty foliage of a few perennial plants arranged here and there in a clever way where we find the taste of nature in Robert as in all paintings of 18th invoices.
Hubert Robert saw the decline of the lost-time monarchy of the precious, contrasted by the violence of revolutionary terror, under the dictate of a man, Robespierre, where he was imprisoned, awaiting the agonizing edge of the guillotine and released after the after all tragic end of the man of terror.
The revolutionary vandalism by Robert's repeated evocations of ruins, translates the melancholy of the days of a time forgotten forever….
Remain the spirit of the time under his brush still alive…
The feminine charm
Be passionate with the evanescent presence, distant gaze, with the fine silhouette emanating grace.
Undaunted, his whole being radiates romanticism.
With a delicate attitude, while femininity. Being a woman.
Politically correct is a form of language without taste or flavor, poetry or the poet must be in ambush.
Our time under this law of insidious silence makes the era and the minds empty. The Word must be murderous just like art without any compromise of any kind.
Take the scrub ... The taste of Liberty!
Waking Up or Fear
We get a taste of life under the incessant cheek of a pistol under the temple. Time is increased tenfold, the seconds are centuries to contemplate ...
"To be Wolf or to be Dog"; the imposed, modern choice of our society and a kind of slavery, faithful to the promise to be kept, feet and hands tied, mouth gagged, imprisoned.
The proud and conquering wolf in search of new territories lies in wait for its prey, it is a lord to eliminate ...
1860 Frédéric Bazille -
Source of impressionism at the gates of modern painting
Painters of the batignolles school revealed in a painting by Fantin Latour , he is a gifted friend of Renoir, Monet, Manet, in the workshop on rue Furstenberg .
Street in the crossed fate of a painter of our time, Balthus where he paints the painting " La Rue " (from furstemberg ).
Manet, the leader who revolutionizes the way of painting and established codes, with the scent of the scandal, under the frock coat, E. Manet, or in the Salon we “ encourage the spirit of Revolt ,” the instigator of the famous Salon des refused.
Frédéric, a conscientious student from Gleyre's studio with a sure design, he plays with color with freshness and a truth in tones with light effects.
Painter with daring compositions with a fast touch and an economy of means inspired by his master Manet, whom he follows in his footsteps, whom he compares to Cimabue and Giotto for Italy in the Quattrocento.
The Spirit is peopled with hell
( or the hidden world of our uncertainties).
A person's Spirit is an unexplored world.
A world without limits or borders where reality and imagination clash.
At the gates of Heaven or hell ...
The mind is an entity in its own right that has a freedom and a truth that tests ourselves.
Our dreams like frail ships sail in the sandstone of currents and winds go far away towards the indescribable infinite.
The spirit perhaps of a lightness or loaded with an invasive weight where our spirit is peopled with hell at the gates of paradise.
Prisoner of our mind or our unconscious drifts, exploring the meanders of our contradictions and hidden truths to better extract them without our knowledge.
The spirit is conquering, independent in the assault of new territories or new borders.
The untamed human spirit is infinite and wild.
- The Spirit is peopled with hell.
- Beauty invites to perfection.
- Art is gentle violence.
The Painter of Sentiment
Painting or drawing the feeling is the essence of my artistic approach, the very essence of my vision.
For me, this is the only reason and justification for all of my work.
The Truth of the Beings
The alchemy of the soul or the painter of Sentiment
A feeling is a fleeting thing of being. What distinguishes beings is their interiority or their moods.
Revealed by that elusive thing that is feeling or what one experiences internally as a result of the alchemy of being.
Communicated by speech or rather the imperceptible that we perceive in the loved one, without words or noises. He is there present in the person revealed by his presence, his natural authenticity.
This invisible thing that shows through in the interior of being, in human passions. Who escapes communication is a naked truth, pure in its state, without calculations?
I believe I am in search of this state, to reveal this indescribable truth by means which calls upon its feelings, its felt, its lived, in search of the truth of the beings.
Find the soul of a being or the purity of feelings or grasp the unfathomable, the inexpressible truth.
The world of my imagination or a real present reality that imposes itself on me through my drawing and my painting. This is the miracle of art or an artistic approach that imposes itself on you.
Imagination and a stronger force, more real than the presence of reality.
The miraculous precious.
Truth is in Perfection
With regard to art, there is a truth, a truth of the work, Art lays bare the truth of the one who uses it. It is the artist and in the quest for perfection, he must shape perfection or strive for it to reach his truth.
Perfection makes it possible to approach the truth of the work or the goal to be achieved.
To reach perfection or its perception of it is to discover the truth in its accomplishment and in its purest nature of the forces which support it of feeling, of beauty, in its original strength or state.
Achieve this perfection and discover its truth, its meaning, a state of revelation, transcendence accomplished.
It is a journey that leads to the artist's truth in his quest for the absolute.
Truth and Perfection.
Beauty invites perfection
All beauty is the sign of perfection, it is its essence, its elixir, its digest, its mathematical algorithm. Beauty is the result of present accomplished perfection.
All beauty and the result of a mechanism which are the purity of a learned balance of a goldsmith's precision, of a universal law.
Beauty is a path that excludes all approximations, chance, but the result of an in-depth research, calculated, evaluated, the result of thoroughness, of a natural law.
This search is the path to perfection where we find a perfect balance. Result of eternal or universal beauty immortalized in the work of an artist or the accomplishment of his ultimate work.
With the unconscious towards new horizons
Open your field of consciousness to unexplored fields.
The unconscious makes you travel, transport towards unexplored possibilities, towards one or elsewhere, other possible, towards a better with yourself and the others, a possible sharing.
The opportunity to achieve success, self-fulfillment.
The unconscious this misunderstood thing, this other possible rejected, hidden.
It is a source of renewal, an unsuspected engine of another balance, being at peace with one's unconscious or going towards the path of self-realization…
The beauty of women walk like masterpieces
The woman or the female model with angelic seduction like Italian, Raphaelian or Ingres nudes, intoxicates you with their natural beauty like a diamond of unsuspected purity, incomparable, unique, the woman's body was made by masters of goldsmiths who reason like masterpieces of great masters of classical or renaissance painting.
The masterpiece is made women or the female body rivals the genius of the artist, its creator ...
The Language of Flowers or
" Les Boréades " or Alphas and Borée
Feelings are perfumed, to the elixirs of the language of the heart, Flowers are their attributes.
In the Land of Boréades , where the heart and the Vapors of Sentiments are in competition with the recognition of its rank, of its position where there is no place for pretenders without recognition ; or without strength by position or without people's respect for acquired goods and values are a prerequisite for his condition as a man.
The colorful and perfumed language which speaks to the instances of the heart of the loved one. It is a language with a touch of purity far from the intransigent laws of the unjust, ferocious, cruel and cowardly Boréades .
The Truth of sentient beings
A passionate being is pure, like an angel in his brilliantly white kingdom.
Where light reigns, it lightens being without truths or lies.
Truth is transparent like a perfect crystal where no one shadows where impurity would lodge there.
The female being
Attentive, sensitive, under an appearance of assumed fragility, is a being with a soft appearance or the soul breathes the tenderness and generosity of the heart.
Sweet women or the triumphant hair
The beauty of a woman and a hair is in the Feminine.
The tangles, the styling, the scholarly hairstyles compete with the splendid and magnificent horse manes.
The wild hairstyle with a thousand curls or orderly folds, structuring this triumphant trophy to the glory of the female masterpiece.
Distinguished attributes like a feline in her bright dress.
Objects so coveted by artists for the production of a work imbued with poetry, harmony, dreamy beauty all Malthusian .
The refinement is French in its language, in the art of hospitality, in the big brands of haute couture and perfumery, its musical arts, its great masters of painting and even in the fields of science.
French taste is courted, sought-after all over the world, an indelible imprint of our spirit and our culture.
In the great upheaval of globalization where everything tends to become uniform without taste, taste or distinction ...
French identity is a trademark in itself like Paris, the capital of romanticism and love sung by our poets ...
Paris in the Era of the 21st century is the capital of the “ cop 21 ” may be our last salvation in the world.
The empty idol mirror
The despair of spirits or their poverty or ill-being are in search of idols who would fill their void or lack, fill their accessible ideal ready to consume.
Today's society with mirrors of idols and a fleeting decoy with light, indigent and poor spirits. Our modern society where the interiority of beings is diminished impoverished where knowledge has no equal to an incalculable void.
The culture that is the object of our national heritage and a facade where only a few adventurous spirits go astray, the economy of work or our model of life of the immediacy of the ready-to-consume in emergency or a short time, where we must live in the snapshot, we empty our wealth.
Time, the time found must be our ally, must stand still stop for a richer search, a time deepened in the acquisition of knowledge whose culmination of our identity is alone at this price.
Creation and genius
The geniuses of the first centuries, to those modern painting competing between Van Dyck, Michel Ange, Léonard de Vinci, Raphaël, Titian, Rubens, Poussin, Ingres, Delacroix, Picasso, Matisse still reason through the centuries by a dazzling list of achievements of creators touched by grace and beauty.
No one can compete with as much impertinence as these geniuses of creation, rivaling the miracles of a single creator, of a universal, divine order ...
Mr. D or the painting resurfaces or
Degas dance Drawing
Fervent admirer Paul Valery has the project to write on Edgar Degas, but thinks that he will not see it with a good eye, gives up.
Then he wrote to focus on the question of creativity and genius. And writes on " introduction to the Leonardo da Vinci method " and " The Evening with Mr. Test .”
Paul Valery on his writing on Degas aims to understand the challenges of a life of creation. His work is kaleidoscopic and surprising, with reflections on creation, anecdotes, memories ; like those of Berthe Morisot…
The work is a movement on sensations and feelings, always guided by his reflection on creation with heart and less with spirit, and shows evidence of one of those who knew the artist.
Everything is drawing at Degas, up to sculpture, because it is its essence, the Line.
The thought of Valery like the drawing of Degas where everything is questioning of this post-revolutionary century where the line is shifting like modernity abandons certainties.
Degas revolutionizes his art and seeks something else, no longer conceiving a masterpiece as the outcome of a process.
But rather in the making of variations. In the idea of a process of repeating patterns, of observations.
And the drawing is a vector of speed of execution for the artist, who particularly interests him.
Degas is at a crossroads is rocked between the 19th century and the 20th century the circle of the impressionists where another modernity is born.
The avant-garde meet where the Young Picasso admires Degas and First buyer ...
Dream of a young girl
The sweet dream to take away the young girl is sacred.
Like an angel in paradise where his chimerical world is unreachable, where only a pure immaculate universe resides in the image of paradise where only the all-powerful creator rubs shoulders.
Do not give in to mediocrity always go ahead.
Life is a path where you have to find your way, and choose forcibly the bifurcations that lead to self-realization, for a better one, to prove one's aptitudes and the means to achieve oneself.
The spirit can be stronger than the paths of destiny which can confuse you with your ideal, your self-worth, your individuality, self.
Do not allow yourself to be mediocre, which you are forced to do, but clarify your way towards possible elsewhere, its territory to conquer, on an equal footing, with its fields of its ideals and reasoning and intellectual capacities developed, internalized in itself, whose value awaited its revealed fulfillment.
Nude or curves or artistic desire
The nude or drawing of the living is an arduous discipline where chance is not advised.
The nude requires listening to yourself and the model. Your pencil suggests your ideal, your sensitivity, your emotions or the line transcribes what our mind synthesizes, perceives with an emotion line.
Then the successive curves which we evaluate, measure the intensity ; the rendering suggests you such the observation of a landscape on the motive the perfect agreement to put in place to seduce or surprise yourself or your audience and fervent admirers.
The Sentiment of Words
The color of the words, evocative power, the poetic drift of the words, transports us to the shores of an unexplored world.
The drift of words abandoned offshore is a call to moods where deep exacerbated feelings mingle that resonate with poetic scrolls.
The language of words has the feeling of the heart where reason escapes the waves to the soul, running away from feelings.
Fly in the sandstone of the wind.
With its whitish wings, fly in the blue of the sky.
Be a butterfly and fly towards the thread of a promising destiny, of a destiny to win back somewhere else.
Endless battle was constantly in search of your ideal.
The color or the poetry of the senses
The poetics of colors is a sensory language of a chimerical world, with cottony skies in pastel colors.
The poetic sense of sensitive and light harmonies lifts you up in a dream world, a poetic ideal where the imagination is king where everything is impressions, emotions.
The Dream of Ossian, Poem or
the painted work by Ingres
Ingres's work is of rare poetry, illustrating the battles and loves of the 3rd century Scottish bard
Where a staging of the hero and his wife, his son, his entwined bride, surrounded by angels and valiant soldiers carried in a ghostly cloud.
In the foreground, the Ossian bard is seated, leaning on his harp and dreaming.
The Absolute of Romanticism by Girodet or
" Atala at the tomb " - 1808
Canvas where romantic vibrating eroticism is an icon.
The exhibition of the painting in the Salon 1814 rekindles the passions where sentimentalism is the hallmark of these times ...
And represents the very expression of romanticism Girodet with a melancholic sensitivity has imposed itself after the workshop of David as the painter of tormented loves breathes a new poetry.
The beautiful romantic Atala dies in the arms of her beloved Chactas .
The reason is that they decided to unite in marriage, when Atala remembered the promise made to her mother to remain a virgin and Christian and choose suicide and thus escape her passion.
The silence of meditation in the painting around the slender body wrapped in a virgin shroud and the ultimate passionate embrace which accompanies the beloved figure towards the grave, the contained and yet so perceptible pain of the lover is the erected representation of the glory of the nascent romanticism.
Be Pure Poetic
The feminine being is all poetry.
Feminine sensibility is pure poetry.
The attitude, the gesture of the hair, the lost profile of a young woman with hair falling on the shoulders are pure poetry.
The desire of a pretty woman with a charming smile enchants you, transports you to another place, a dreamed ideal, with the charm of the delicacy of bewitching perfumes with nectar of intoxicating attractions of the female being and its voluptuous splendors, with idealized curves who reason with the charms of love.
Woman be of passions with a generous heart.
To my dear tender love.
My beauty of the day, enchantress of my life.
Dear Love, my Tender Love, my dear Lover with an enchanting Look full of touching Mischievousness, dear Love.
Treasure, my muse of my dreams, with infinite desires, my beautiful lover, my tender love.
My beautiful, oh love, tender love, the woman of my life.
The garden of your love
My lover, I would like to win your love.
The purity of your feelings, I would like to cultivate them in your secret garden, to be the modest gardener of your love, to maintain the rose of your heart.
May it flourish in a red color like love with the subtle scents of a sought-after fragrance that enhances the scents of happiness.
I would like to conquer the path of your love.
And love you, and share the fruit of your love, be the attentive gardener of your heart, my love.
The Eye of Destiny
A singing journey like Monsieur Trenet Charles, who is close to success.
Destiny awaits you to surprise you, to offer you opportunities, meetings that reveal and change you.
The pupa will one day become a butterfly to fly from flower to flower.
Make your life a journey of self to conquer success, a possibility to achieve.
Envy in the spirit of your being
Being and spirit, the inexplicable love of beings attracted like stars from a summer sky.
The spirit of your elusive being, free and light as a butterfly wing.
The essence of your charming, joyful and benevolent spirit.
My love for you growing day by day.
Love, you radiate in my heart like a sun.
What is love ?
You oh love, pure soul with elusive beauty with a thousand facets, you shine and light dazzling fires of your high values are equal to universal ideals.
Literature is Voluptuousness and Sensuality, a snub to the inevitable ...
An ode to life, to desire, to love.
Sweet love, sweet love.
My heart wanders that love is sweet.
The sweetness of feelings with loving gestures, everything is desire and expectation.
Time is our Pygmalion who knows how to bite us at the moment so much desired, dreamed.
The colorful poetry love with unexpected flavors or the intensity of love culminates in the intention of the loved one, courted, adored, is revealed.
Love is a revelation of the other, of oneself, of shared or hoped-for desire.
Love reveals desire, the sweetness of feelings, of the voluptuousness of beings, of passions.
Geneva the seductive hidden in the golden shores
The Sumptuous woman lets herself be discovered according to her moods, you Genevoise.
And you, my beloved, we walk in the chic neighborhoods or we marvel.
In your eyes, I escape and travel towards enchanting horizons.
My beloved in the center café, on our table with a Geneva white fabric, we revel.
Your laughing eyes and smile light up my heart.
You are my enchanted princess, your heart and your eyes are a thousand blue suns.
Your thoughts, your spirit accompany me to an enchanting country.
The newlyweds of year II or my love
Charlotte's passionate loves that alternate between jubilation and passions unfulfilled are the romanticism spicy love passions to the French spirit.
Dear love and tender beloved, I love you madly like his adventures full of charms and sentimentality where love is king.
I love you my dear
My Passion Drawing
The art of drawing the living model elevates us everything becomes poetry, a matter of wonder.
The art of the nude is an art culminating in the search for perfection and poetry.
To future journeys in the universe, to distant unknowns beyond the futuristic and avant-garde human sciences towards the impossible, the unimaginable, towards an endless world, beyond known borders.
Like Agostinelli and Proust travelers of their time.
Or Agostinelli wants to cross the sleeve aboard a cuckoo called the Swann.
Where Agostinelli left did not return or Proust had the remorse of his life, to have advantageously financed his valet and friend of the heart towards death.
Proust at his expense had the body repatriated to the ground for the repose of his soul.
His beings of passions and hearts are our travelers from a time past and forgotten by our future avant-garde in the information age without souls, where logic and synthetic intelligence are the announced future of humanity…
The loved one
The loved one is a light in the shade.
This light accompanies you, guides you on a path that illuminates you, towards a better, an ideal.
Love grows for you.
My love, your smile and your moments of joy shine in my heart which beats for you my love.
On the edge of the abyss,
Light festivals in Lyon
The metro becomes Hell, the innumerable crowd.
The weather becomes narrow, in pursuit of a train departure to arrive on time, the obstacles are linked.
You are manhandled, put your nerves to the test, on the tightrope. It's the race, arriving just in time on the station platform, arriving just at the right time, in time.
This train quickly becomes crowded, the atmosphere is oppressive people crowd, agglutinate, get nervous just looking for a viable space.
Then, it is the anguish which goes up not knowing why, while awaiting a calming, a moment of calm after all this tumult. You close your eyes in search, of a soothing calm, all this mixture, is upset then gradually serenity peaks, to gradually regain confidence, regain consciousness. People are more peaceful, calm gradually settles towards serenity, finally ...
Me, found ...
Love found or in search of the loved one
My love, I found you and hoped for so much.
You are my horizon, my light, my hope.
I love you sincerely, with a deep love.
You knew how to find me, tame me, thank you for that.
Your mind, your being, your eyes all please me.
Without you, I'm incomplete.
You are my longed for love.
To you my darling love
Being and Nothingness
One day, I am.
Life is like this, we are discovering ourselves and the world.
The discovery is endless, our world is a universe full of surprise, and novelty, it is endless.
Our thirst for learning is infinite just like life.
This life which one appropriates, guesses, discovers and rediscovers.
What was there before our world, the Void ?
What about after us, the Void ?
Being and nothingness, that is our question, it is endless.
Just like our universe.
The Quantum Spirit in contrast to
the " conscience, " called " quantum "
What is the quantum mind ? Who rubble quantum physics in my mind.
What is quantum physics ?
It escapes our Cartesian reason, even Albert Einstein, a great physicist, did not want to be resolved !
Quantum physics is surprising multiple, one of a kind, confused and logical at the same time as if " one " is only " one " was not enough, various, and has the gift of ubiquity or omnipresence.
Then the quantum mind would be a supernatural being, an infinite, diverse mind, both here and void by and everywhere, incomprehensible to our human and instinctive mind.
Would it be inhuman, superhuman, immeasurable, an infinitely multiplied logic, humanly inconceivable?
Is it our distant future ? For the fulfillment and development of our humanity ?
Love and Desolation
- You, dear and tender.
- To be loved, the arid and desolate lands are emerging at the end of the day.
- No tumult, no orchestrated disorder, but a deafening silence filled with complaints.
- Alone in the face of disorder, the only survivor of a flood of calamities near the abyss.
- Can I survive this flood which invades me, I try to catch a glimpse of the light?
- The terrible unhappiness overwhelms me, tears me apart, what to do ...
Spleen and Poetry
Illness invades me, surprises me, seizes me on the infinite instant, on the expanse of an ocean.
Could I get rid of it that tears flesh and soul?
The soul drifts, gets lost, drags on forever and never ends.
The curse pursues you relentlessly and becomes one body.
This sensation radiates you with all fire, burns your soul.
The Black Moment
In your shadow, on the edge of reality.
Time catches up with us, invaded by nothingness which overwhelms our adrift.
Lightning flashes to strike you in your slow drift, towards misty and deserted places.
Lift and haunt you, violent and sudden like a fallen angel.
Draws you towards the abysses of the depths of darkness to engulf you there in the space of an eternal and terrible instant.
Suddenly, coming out of the torpor, from a heavy sleep, awake, time stops.
Everything moves around you, immobilized, helpless actors, mortified, petrified forever.
Life unfolds like a veil obscured by the shadow.
Caught in a black dream on the edge of hell.
Out of darkness, you fail groggy.
An ideal meeting
At the bend of the path, of a short trip, a chance meeting can seduce you.
To meet a being who is intellectually equal to yourself is attractive, unexpected, simple and pleasant.
Along the journey, hand in hand with a life philosophy of one of the successful authors recognized for his Zen philosophical thoughts, she traverses this relaxed, curious one.
After a short sleep break, she grabs a notebook, then the pencil quickly and quickly sweeps the surface of the notebook paper. Fine writing, small, dense, the notebook without lines, the words scroll quickly to fill the page then the back, in an unexpected pleasure, gluttony.
After having lain down on paper, the articulation of his shooting thought and quite happy to have accomplished his task, closes his notebook, with relief and undisguised pleasure.
We then exchanged a few quick words to discover his personal passions and the writing we share as well as the drawing.
Delighted to have approached a curious and brilliant spirit, of a pleasant simplicity, quick to exchange.
- We love our loved one.
- A desirable being adored.
- You if desired and loved.
- You make our heads spin.
- Your laughter and your anger are a thousand emotions.
- Our desires and our fears are our Pygmalion
- Time weaves our history.
- I dream of an ideal, of love and sharing.
- You, women, be gentle and passionate, I hope your well-being.
- Love is a battle, a victory to conquer.
One sad day, without the sun, the landscape, the trees pass by.
The train runs on the thread of life.
Suddenly a ray of sunshine dawns.
What to say about this sad life?
Love and hope at will.
What gnaws my soul, in the woes of life?
Perhaps someday calming will come.
Our life like a dented path will one day find its Elysian fields.
I love you
I love you.
You are more beautiful than a flower.
You are the Rose of my heart.
The Mystery of the Female Being
Pretty women with feminine forms are of all graces.
The hair falling on the shoulders which reveals a pretty face, the elegant bust, pretty hands with tapered fingers to the tips of the nails.
Grace is feminine, mysterious, sweet.
The feminine attitude marked by lightness, charms, an attractive candor inspiring the confidence of the loved one.
Art and Life
Live your life, the requirement of life.
Life with its tumult and priorities, leaves nothing to chance, so goes life.
Meeting with an artist who also faced the demands of life, the world of work.
Flourished in his art, no worries show through.
The desire is there, sharing and simplicity, of a demanding, perfect, impeccable art ...
Available for his art, art for his life, art one of his priorities.
The radiant look, accessible to his world, has the desire, the desire for a radiant art.
I would like to find its way, towards an accomplishment, a discovery, assertiveness.
Art makes you want…
Dream of you
Your smile enchants me, your seductive eyes invade me, I dream of you ...
Your skin softness, like a fragrant flower, exalts passion and love.
Your feminine lines with delicious curves intoxicate me, revealed my passionate imagination, a sentimental dream, a dreamlike desire.
I dream of you, my love.
Gérard GAROUSTE or
the Painting found
Painting is a language, a thought, an enigma and its keys to decipher.
Gérard Garouste plays with madness to decipher his own puzzles.
His painting full of code therefore the family, religion, his fears, his family secrets, Freudian psychology, his psyche, his anxieties, his personal history ...
Childhood time, memory or present time
Childhood is a wonderful and happy period that we would like to immortal and that we live with adolescence.
This privileged time, this carefree time, its timeless precious moments, we can relive them with our own children or nephews or nieces who remind us of this joyful time, this time of freedom, this time of discovery of things and world that one should not have left.
Live the time of vacation, travel, family.
Angel or demon
The soft sky under its protective angels is attractive. The wings push you like Icarus to get closer to the Zenith to see bliss.
Icarus had an unenviable fate in getting too close to the sun, gray with altitude.
The man and the woman two beings to love, understand, support each other are identical in their desires to congratulate her.
The demon can arise, reveal itself, appear under attractive features, monopolize you, devour you.
We can be surprised to rub shoulders with the devil who slyly surfaces to better tame you and be in his grip, at his mercy, under his wing waiting for the end.
The cursed lovers or the magnificent lovers
Like Modigliani and Jeanne Hébuterne who dreamed of an accomplished life, of a couple, misfortune had caught up with them.
Impetuous, determined, running after a dream, a chimera, overwhelmed, out of control, no longer controlling her actions, fleeing reality, life, overwhelmed by her emotions, her thoughts, she goes adrift like a river in vintage, not knowing which direction to go.
Life catches up with you, with its contradictions, its illusions like a theater or life or the characters would only be a play of shadows and lights.
The Impossibility of the Heart
Impossible love, forbidden love.
The heart for reasons that ignore the feelings.
The eyes of love are blind, do not see what the heart or reason imagines.
Love is powerless to find the way of reason, only ardent passions are present.
Or the curse of the heart of lovers.
The Garden of Unhappiness
My love, my friend, what have you done?
To the pleasure of life come the arid paths, desolate and inhospitable places.
The paradises so longed for are ferments of hatred and jealousy, of lies, what have you done?
You, my love, my garden of abundance where fruits are loved, what have you done?
Pleasure is accompanied by a litany of displeasure.
A paradise for hell, what have you done?
The hoped-for angels are potentially the forces of displeasure and hatred and misunderstanding.
You and your only liver to desire, devour, swallow the mountains of the horizons of love, happiness, the pleasure of being two, what have you done?
The imaginary traveler
On new horizons, curiosity is heightened, fears and desires are mixed.
The carefree traveler, unprepared for the unexpected and the inconvenience, is quickly disoriented, chosen victim, designated in advance.
Misfortune never happens alone, it is a heap, a continuation.
Despite your efforts in the face of adversity, the person loved and pampered by you, is annoyed, irritated, indisposed, quick to take revenge.
Perhaps the object of your misfortune, your misfortune.
Your friend from the very first days, through the torments and vicissitudes of life, can decide to be the instrument of your Way of the Cross.
In these inhospitable heavens, sent to purgatory, chosen victim, at the mercy of adversity.
Lucky people are very happy, life has pampered them.
The Intoxication of Pleasures
Joy and love, the hope of sentient beings.
Life triumphs over misfortune, the source of happiness flows to who knows how to discover it, imagine it.
The mind is stronger than life. Uproar and fury fade away from the will of the mind.
The mind is a borderless, infinite, limitless, indomitable horizon.
Life is intoxication with pleasures.
The Language of Flowers,
At Cocteau's Stars
The poetics of flowers, with scented colors and scents enchant you, the desire to dream.
Flowers are words, with poetic overtones where their flowery languages call for love, grace and the desire for beauty.
Everything is marvelous to those who know how to look and discover.
The world is an enchantment with a thousand facets like the bright stars of a summer night sky, the poetic stars of Cocteau.
Woman, who are you ?
The ingenious Natalie Wood with a devastating look and body.
You are desirable and attractive like a shooting star in the starry night.
You are sweetness or all fire and flame, nothing can resist you, clinging to your desires and your dreams.
You dear woman with an unpredictable character like a sleeping volcano ready to rage under burning fires.
Women with a thousand faces you are one and multiple.
Woman love guides and nourishes you.
You devour life and people with passion.
Envy overwhelms you attracted by a protective angel who will fulfill your thousand hopes and dreams.
The desire to be a woman.
The Poetics of Beauty
To go towards beauty is to go to poetry.
Only the path of poetry guides you to grace, beauty and the love of life's despair.
A being of passion is all poetry.
Pure poetry is a state of grace.
Only beauty and art put you in a state of consciousness that is poetry.
Each being aspires to the beautiful, only poetry will lead you to this path of grace and appeasement.
The origins of painting
or Pieter Bruegel the Elder
Painters in the old Netherlands and sailed between Antwerp as a master, for a long time, and subsequently practiced in Brussels where he settled permanently in 1563.
Pieter Bruegel the Elder is celebrated from Antwerp to Brussels, his radiant work, a pillar of Flemish heritage, still alive today.
Masterpieces including Dull Griet (“ Margot the mad ” also known as “ Margot the enraged ”) very singular painting, the genre of which is a rarity for its time and one of the most fascinating works of the northern renaissance .
" The Fall of the Rebel Angels " significant work that marks the spirits between angels, the great dragon, the ancient serpent called the devil and Satan, a real apocalyptic battle " Woe to you, because the devil came down to you with great anger knowing that he has little time left… ”
And so a great Saint-Michel with a slender, disarticulated body, leads the celestial legions against the satanic dragon who converted a part of the angels and decided to rebel against God.
" The consolidation of Bethlehem " refers to a passage from the Gospel of Saint Luke, the view of the painting dominating the entire landscape by its height is part of the tradition of " World Landscape " or " Cosmic Landscape " which is the brand of the Flemish style from the beginning of the century.
" Winter landscape with skaters and birds hatch " major work from a particularly cold period of 1565-1567 within what is customary to call the " little ice age, " the memorable winters allowed, '' install a pictorial genre favored by Flemish and Dutch painters from the second half of the 16th century.
For Bruegel, this state of affairs confronting the population with the rigor of time dominated by nature towards these demands on the human condition and other puzzles whose trap for birds giving the name to the painting is unexplained as to the message or meanings faced with the rigors of winter which does not affect men in their daily lives.
" The Flemish proverbs " work which is one of the most popular since its return to grace in the twentieth century. Work comprising a profusion of tasty characters with comical details that inevitably compromise the unity of the composition.
" The Tower of Babel, " Bruegel the Elder returned several times to the theme of the Tower of Babel. His representations of the insolent biblical building, which is undoubtedly one of the most fascinating subjects of his work.
" Harvest, " to consider only the summer and the crucial time of mowing, this table shows harvesters who have stopped working to eat and rest in the shade of a small tree. The harvest is first remarkable for its entirely secular nature. The subject is nature or more exactly the almost symbiotic relationship, punctuated by the great calendar phases, of humanity and of a majestic nature which shelters it, nourishes it, contains it.
The artist tends to free himself from the fantastic stereotypes, characteristic of the initiators of the landscape in the Old Netherlands, to reach a form of naturalist poetry of perhaps unprecedented intensity, from classical literature and the georgics of Virgil. The articulation of the undulating golden mass of wheat interrupted by a green landscape, which extends, in an admirable midst of summer heat, to a coastline from which a few boats soar is a source of perpetual wonder.
The Rose or the love of women
Yes, you are loved, we are courting you.
Hoping to gain your interest.
Your eyes and your smile attract us, ready to seduce you.
Everything remains to be done, to win your heart.
A word from you and the world is shining.
One day your eyes, everything amazes, another day everything is sadness.
You sensitive as a flower, we pick the roses of happiness, to find the love of our life.
A soul in pain
Everything is joyful when everything shines.
Love, the balm of happiness for souls in pain.
Heart drifting, you wander in pain.
Blinded by your desires, your inexhaustible desires.
You are struggling to gain a possible desirable, the ideal being, without notable imperfections.
Happiness is good.
Intangible, odorless and fragrant from the heart. Rose or Jasmine.
Without priceless value to who knows how to win hearts.
Happiness or misfortune without notions of values, with lucky hearts.
Eternal Quest, Loving Beings
Ecology, our dear EARTH, “ A Crime ” or
the Assassin Man and nature…
- Man a utopia of nature…
- This Earth, our Earth, Blue Planet oasis of our starry universe.
- The man or the end ...
- Man or the suicide of life, of our world.
- Honest, criminal man or sincerity.
- Man or genocide or unreasonable madness or intellectual genocide or revisionism of the crime of nature or the tragedy announced, of our murdered nourishing land…
- Nazism, the crime of humanity, man or the crime of nature, of the living, of the animal world, of our vacillating humanity or the end of the world, the end of our world…
- Poor men, poor humanity who will win everything to lose everything to win everything, and lose to life…
- Caught in the storm, the elements are unleashed around you.
- Your mind wanders, floats in the elements. Carried away by a destructive wave,
You resist this pervasive outburst.
- But no tumult can divert you from your deep being.
- You are there, on a frail skiff tossed about on all sides, nothing can reach you.
- You resist, like an impregnable, inviolate citadel ...
Out of frame - In search of oneself…
Get rid of reality or its attachments, material or immaterial, moral, or social ...
Or the reason for being rid of all conscience.
Could it be an ideal, perfect place, a paradise free from all constraints ?
Or does it take to be forged, to be a constructed being ? Subject to coercion, intellectual freedom would be acquired in a closed, dictatorial process like a human society with its happy tragedies and rebirths confronted with misfortunes and sufferings ...
What is love ?
Love is an act of compassion, of giving oneself, towards others, an altruistic act, in the idea of accomplished religions.
The man can have another direction this one more phantasmagoric or biological, but, however, not without initial sense of acts of gifts or sharing or merges when it is a question of human passions.
The world is molded by this matter of cohesion or soft or violent betrayal, so man and its contradictions have been made since the dawn of time since man is man. It is its tragic part or that of shared happiness.
The act of love is human that we also share with animals in a less instinctive way by the laws of naturalness.
Love, we have made it a philosophy, literature, is it an invention of man ?
Is there this thing we call Love ?
Man has made it a religion, a dogma.
Man in t betrays this thing ? The has he perverted forever ?
Before Adam and Eve ? A love story…
The right to happiness
Are we all entitled to happiness or its virtues that a thousand riches could not acquire by the fact of money?
This inconsistent one would overtake us and we would misunderstand its value after it would no longer function, by default.
It is then that it would take on its full value, its perception will be felt furtive, elusive, without contractual acquisition, non-negotiable, immaterial, unpredictable.
This longed-for things, sated with fury, irresistible envy.
So as happiness knows how to wait and give its benefits, to who knows how to deserve it, desire it, initiate it towards others and inevitably or finality towards you ...
Fruit of a long matured orchard ...
The sex of angels or do angels have a sex
The things of the mind have no sex even if it came out of a male or female brain.
The angel to be neutral in the accepted color is of a virginal spotted white in the popular accepted spirit.
However should we think that the angels have sex and would have de facto a particular sensitivity and particular gifts? That the man or the woman could intrinsically admit a rank of holiness in spite of their faults and differences by taking into account the sex.
Or in absolute terms a saint in holiness would be obsequious by nature and thus lose their statue of men or women, the criterion not being determining.
The Christian religion does not accept what is of the order of sex, or takes refuge in ignorance, or the refusal of this state, while considering as the act of procreating a child, " The Child of Jesus " as a divine posture…
All this would then be the order or the business of the divine.
The effect of man would not be determining creation is the domain of the heavens, of the divine creator without him man would not be and even to justify the place of man he would be in the mysteries of God, he alone judge of his creature, Man or Woman…
Angels would be excluded from it, their imperfect nature would not be called into question, being par excellence the servants of the divine eternally, the sex affair here no longer being in the world of the living and their subjugation to it, doing more function, or work of biological utilities of a living species.
Thus raised in the spheres of the divine protector ...
Your sweetness characterizes you, you have the intelligence of the heart.
Being in complicity, a sensitive fragility, you are looking for the man who will love you, understand you.
Your instinct guides you, waiting, ready to receive, your sensitive emotional complicity is of real human wealth, you are a woman…
Women to be sharing, you love tenderly.
Françoise Blanc Dupasquier
Exceptional artists, attentive teacher, I have your happy memory.
Your works, an ode to life, follow you, fortunately, they are there, you who are no longer there, I feared this dreadful moment, hoped it was not ...
Up to the sublime
The beauty of life is poetic.
The real escapes us and emerges a poetic vision to who knows how to look. It is a light sensation which, on the contrary, stands out from the harshness, from the violence of reality, from its immediacy.
Only the human mind goes further than the real.
Poetry is our share of innocence, our share of childhood rediscovered.
The simple things in life reconcile us with us, our sensitive being, the poetic gaze and our dear moment, our unknown part, of innocence to be tamed, double our mirror.
The poetic instant and this part of humanity that we all have in ourselves, we are from all horizons, man or woman combined, without distinction.
Poetry is a common language without borders. Art is its jewel.
Poetry is a sublimated sense of being which confines to the divine, to the purity of the senses, an elevation of being and of spirit.
Beauty is in us, in all things, the poetic horizons are revealed to us, they have the color of our innocence rediscovered, with intense gouache blues by Dufy.
Poetry and beauty are at the sublime of life.
The inner enemy
Man, our societies, humanity is complex, filled with paradoxes with the positive part, which reconciles with our humanity, ourselves and its harmful, ever-destructive drifts.
In troubled times past, occupied by invaders, declared enemies, victor of the moment, reigns supreme over Europe and minds, deadly ideology, with its crimes of all kinds ...
We even reached by contagious ideas and reigning power, had our inner enemy more insidious still, more contagious and nauseating than our occupier of the time, totalitarian with the badge of death.
This internal enemy also mostly comes from us, except in the eyes of those who joined the resistance or its maquis ...
Today, the internal enemy is there in various forms and political, economic or global powers ...
Humanity does not assume its deadly share for itself, and its world.
There is an incessant battle of opposing forces, positive and negative part of our humanity, the abyss is even more dizzying for its ravages still for our humanity.
The internal enemy is close to us and in us contaminated. Society is given up to its strengths, economic and political, disguises society, incessant combat between beings where everyone seeks their share of protection ...
A woman to love
The softness of her hair, her innocence, her tranquility, her loving look.
A being to love tenderly, passionately.
The woman is attentive, sensitive, generous with her passions and desires.
Woman be of love.
Ecology ? Or life or man taken madly,
Empowered , the voi e no return ... and we ?
Cradle of humanity, living beings, plants and animals, our equals in life rights…
The super-predator man, at the height of civilizations, out of control, without any limit, no ... Unreasonable for life ...
Century at the edge of a " new era ,” supra-technological and that of programmed total destruction, without return, neither for humanity nor for our world with irreversible annihilation for the diversity of life, this without any measure, no ... Unpublished in the history of our planet ... ???
Nature will take revenge !!! Human reason has crossed the red line or human reason that panics, the next future is dead ... for us ... and life ...
Man alone will be the only species to have programmed total annihilation, global warming being a tiny irreversible dramatic consequence of man's actions ... and he alone is the only fatal responsible ...
The annihilation of all forms of life, total on Earth, this in a frenzied mad rhythm, blinded by our self-centeredness, our individualism, our thinking with rationalist tastes, unreasonable for what must be essential, life ...
Nature, life becomes a good, a possible commodity negotiable at a high price or the planned murder, total genocide of life on Earth, of our planet, of our heritage of life ?
Humanity, life on credit, with short-term financial aims or the paradox, life in the short term, with exponential unreasonable profits, man or unreasonable unreason, death on credit, the end of a lush world of diversity, beauty and life.
Ugliness, deadly blind financial power, curses, death is the evils of our humanity ending in decadent reason with crazy financial aims and of all irresistible powers without limits ... None ...
A burst of man, of humanity, of consciousness ??? Quick…
The part of the dream or
the genius of the artist.
The dream, genius of artists, painters, Balthus, Dufy and many others, Matisse…
Have their share of dreams.
The pastel colors of Balthus illustrate a still life or a landscape, with casein, the artist's favorite medium, in evanescent soft colors, which irradiate the colors in a light complex multiple gradation, which gently accompanies you towards this reverie between visions spooky and reality, like a light breath of a breeze at the seaside.
Time is suspended there, immortalized, timeless, a window open to other horizons, to infinity, the distant, vast stranger immersed there, alone in this sweet reverie, you abandoned yourself.
Like the spirit of the work put in place, in a subtle and very elaborate composition by Balthus, a new world opens up to you ...
A sensitive perception of the play of colors is set up, the dream is there, the genius of the artist does his work, everything is said ...
A kaleidoscope of colors, with poetic reveries, enchants you, the sweetness of the soul, of the poet transports you.
Starry evening light, with a thousand facets, shines on the horizon.
The night accompanies you, dresses you in its enveloping softness.
The poet's reverie, colorful and sensitive, is a star that lights up in the sky.
The poet's star in the heavens radiates hotly.
She is there, benevolent and warm, good spirit, like a fairy of wonders.
Such is the soul of the poet, in the azure blue of the starry sky.
Or his spirit travels at the whim of the dawn all up there, with vast golden horizons, where only the free spirits of beauties in the search, of a found innocence, poetry and dreams roam.
The dreamed, unsuspected world of pure souls, or the soul of the poet.
The next day ...
Life at all costs ...
One day from another world, life stops on the clock of time ....
The announced end where everything stopped, suddenly.
The new time has arrived, death is on the prowl, lurking sneakily, you don't know where, invisible enemy…
The most fragile or those exposed are struck with a mysterious lightning agony, a terrible evil, a curse announced, our civilization is deadly, struck down like the colossus of Rhodes with clay feet, broken, our societies are hit very hard …
End of civilizations with unrestrained globalized tense flows, blind ..., overcome by fatality with plagues with deadly deaf noises, dying, men ... With futile vanities, it is a warning of destiny, of the ancient disappeared ...
Or will come a new day which will succeed the next day ... from devastation, from the desolation of our lives, from terrible death ...
And after what? One day of our lives hanging there, shrouded in straw… fragile.
To the strange dream, returned alive from a supernatural world, from the beyond, where men are nothing more than shadows in the sinister darkness.
There apparently looking dead among the dead, on the other side of the world of men, no one speaks, they wander there ... There the fear in the belly among his family may have disappeared from the living, here with them, haggard, or the words are powerless, a silence from elsewhere, from another world, where words no longer mean anything ... emptied, destroyed.
The deadly silence, black dream, or the suffering humanity, terrified, the cry of the men swept away, swept away by the waves, the distant darkness, my dying soul, deaf from the screeching screams of immense recumbent and dying populations, haunting you, you tyrannized, lurking there, helpless, in the midst of the sinister black nightmare ...
Returned there from the dead, breathless .
The preciousness of the time of the marquises or the time of the precious, Madame de La Pommeraye, Monsieur le Marquis des Arcis and Mademoiselle…
This fabulous 18th century for its taste and language.
This time wigs, powders, and silk stockings from the gentlemen or Rousseau and to the revolutionaries, enlightened minds of those times of lights or our thinkers of our modernity.
The French spirit of the lights, or the soul elevated to the sublime of the beauty of the time lost to our cold modernity is wild.
Taste for letters, music, opera, innovative human ideas, all done from this forgotten era, a time in the past, with the refined subtleties of the spirits of seductive adventurers experienced in all pleasures such as Casanova and Don Giovanni of the disproportionate extravagant divine Mozart.
The Marquis : " The sun is so tender ... Taste the friendship ... "
La Marquise to her friend : " Opulence invites sin ... "
" Love is an offense to those who lack it ... "
La Marquise to her friend : " Because of my happiness, I do not want to conceal from my soul the misfortunes that torment our world ... "
The Marquise to the Marquis : " Have you ever observed that love grows when the object of our wishes escapes us ? "
The Marquis : " I have nothing to do with all these souls who are born to die well ... "
La Marquise to her friend : " I see in me only the feminine gender and in him the masculine gender ... "
The Marquise to her friend : " Open my eyes, my friend, to mankind, only pain can help the mind to recover from its errors ... Yes, I want to enlighten its mind ..."
The Marquise to the Marquis : "One must always love too much than the other not enough ... Nature does not like equality, it likes to bother us, it is always necessary that one likes more , the other like less in all subjects and all subjects ... even that of pleasure. "
The Marquis : " I do not know what I will say, I do not know what I will do, but you have everything to fear in the state of violence in which I am ... "
The Marquis : "Why me? No, see you cheating? The philosophy of all his libertines ... It would make man happier ...
Well, yes, pleasure, the quest for pleasure and the source of all our torments, libertines are children, who seek immediate satisfaction, less for a moment of pleasure, how many tears and cries… ”
The Marquise : "Eternally inconsistent, right? Eternally sad, eternally lost by desire… ”
Madame de Joncquières : "If the search for the sublime were a passion, what should we fight? "
Le Marquis : “Everything that is sublime is close to our creator. The sublime is not a passion, it is an emotion, an emotion which crosses our soul, and which in the space of an instant, makes you dizzy, brings you closer to the unspeakable truth… ”
Madame de Joncquières : "Do you hear all the subtleties of divine love as if you only had the scriptures for all foods?" "
The Marquis of Mademoiselle : "Mademoiselle understand that souls who are interested in the sublime are the most beautiful ..."
The Marquis à la Marquise : "I have to have this girl or perish her ..."
La Marquise : "I advise you to chase this idea ..."
The Marquis : "Never has a face inspired me with such kindness ..."
The Marquis à la Marquise : "Madame Pardon, I beg you?" "
La Marquise : "Do you have to become the persecutor because this girl is beautiful and wants to remain virtuous?" Where did I deserve to be your accomplice? Come on Marquis, throw yourself at my feet and ask forgiveness! And preach to let my sad friends rest! "
The Marquis : "Sorry! A thousand pardons, help me, I beg you. Love is a plague, change your nature, I must have this girl, Madam, I must have her, see what I have become? Please, help your friend! "
La Marquise : " I already told you, there is nothing to do ! Forget it ! "
The Marquis of Mademoiselle : "Do ! May God make us see again very quickly… ”
The friend of the Marquise in the Marquise : "Marquise you made this man crazy ! You can now congratulate yourself on your revenge ! "
La Marquise : "To congratulate me now so close to my goal ?" "
The friend of the Marquise in the Marquise : "What more do you want ?" Beware ! Enjoy this victory over the Marquis, believe me ! How many kings have perished from too much insurance! "
The Marquise : "Madam, I am already dead that fear more ? "
The Marquis : "I am determined, the highest stupidity and that a man of my age and my condition and my condition, can do ... Madam, I marry! "
La Marquise : "Consider that the attractions of this young woman will fade ..."
The Marquis à la Marquise : "Would like to tear this unhappy passion from my heart, but for that, I will have to tear my heart. " Madame de Joncquières to Mademoiselle her daughter : "All marriage is an arrangement ... It has arrangements which over time give rise to feelings ... " Mademoiselle au Marquis : “My destiny would no longer be painful. If it is cruel to deceive an innocent man, then no more to deceive a man you love ... Can you love someone and lie to them ? "
La Marquise : "It would therefore seem that purity is contagious ... "
La Marquise : "You see nothing beyond the veil that separates us from pain ... "
La Marquise : " If all women acted, the honor of being a woman would be increased ... "
From the courtiers to the Marquis : “ Rediscover the radiance of your lightness ! "
Mademoiselle au Marquis : "No sir, I can't ... "
Miss : "I will only be really free when you can judge my behavior ... only when you can read in my heart and see how much I hate lies ... I will be free, the day you see how much my faults are far from me… "
The Marquis of Mademoiselle : " Madam, I believe you sincere ... "
Miss : "Your happiness is not lost, you can forget me ! "
The Marquis of Mademoiselle : "Madam, I have forgiven you, I told you, I believe you don't believe it, Madam, Madam, I beg you, Madame La Marquise, come on, Madame get up, Madame des Arcis. »
La Marquise to her friend : "My heart is at peace ... "
My Love Kennedy, strength, violence and fury…
The destiny of the Kennedy, Myth, the broken destiny of America or the gift of the Kennedy…
America, country of modern democracy, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Kennedy, Trump ...
The casualness, the Kennedy family perversion, the revenge Nixon ...
Roosevelt the unloved, the New Deal ... innovative idea then ...
Joseph, the ambassador died in 1969, the end of the Klan Kennedy, Ted beaten by Carter… End of the political hope of the family, and the beginning of the family rivalries of the Kennedy, brothers, cousins, David, heroin, LSD, Rose Mary sacrificed to conservatism and prevailing conventions of the time ...
Boby disappointed hope of the family, of the continuity of John… Jacqui widow, Ethel’s widow before the story of the fate of America to his American dream and its modernity of the time…
The history of America is written in blood ... Violence and fury ... The flesh of the Kennedy ... The Kennedy cannot be happy, or the happy despair of the Kennedy ...
Franck Sinatra, Las Vegas, enemies of the Kennedys ... Las Vegas, the Glory of Casinos and Crime Money ... or Trump, the billionaire heir to Casinos ... The Anti-Roosevelt of the New Deal ...
Mon Amour Kennedy, from America's lunar program, a step for humanity, social progress and its new ideas of the time; anti-conformism in the face of a very conservative excess, unequal society ... of men, of the social, of rights ... Or Boby the fallen reformer, ahead of his time, the man to be killed ... murdered ... His Brother John the first… or the gift of the Kennedy, go ahead, never back down in the face of difficulty, in the face of the curse of America, of the Kennedy…
The Politeness of the Cat
The cat-man, the booted cat, half-man, half- animal, the poet is a cat endowed with a pictorial language with a refined taste… The superfluous, the unimaginable, a light cloud with pink poetry floats in the air, vaporous, with fluffy flakes, Sau powder refreshing poetry, relieves the ambient heaviness, beings with empty spirits ...
Politeness is a delicate taste in the shadows ... The cat with its instinctive ways gifted with its congeners to return politeness to you, its mustaches of cat master, snobbery of being, it listens, extrapolates, meows to who knows how to hear, reflected on its tricks… Man being clumsy with dull senses, the talkative cat of spirit on r easily passes our clumsy mediocrity…
The poetry of the cat, enigmatic speech to humans, swaying verbs which come and go in balance and suppleness, with the slender body of the feline, with sharp claws, roars in the reckless, meows with pleasure in its idle hours.
Cat, the life of the cat, with multiplied lives, competes with us, advances to deafened masked steps, all in lightness, to blow you in the hollow of the ears the words, the poetics of the cat, chiseled poetry, goldsmith in the matter, master craftsman, you whisper a sweet melody, with subtle chords, perfect harmonies, elevate the poetic sense, with a bluish pastel note tinged with a light pink ... Cat harmony, Gifted cats, Poetic cats ...
Tribute to Marcel PROUST
Excerpt from Roman "In search of lost time" by Marcel Proust
- Recovered time –
"Real life, life finally discovered and clarified, the only life, consequently, really lived, this life which, in a sense, lives at all times in all men as well as in the artist. But they do not see, because they do not seek to clarify it. And thus their past is cluttered with innumerable stereotypes which remain useless because the intelligence did not "develop" them. Re-enter our life; and also the life of style, for the writer as well as for the painter, is a question not of technique, but of vision. It is the revelation, which would be impossible by direct and conscious means, of the qualitative difference that it. There is in the way in which the world appears to us, a difference which, if there were not art, would remain the eternal secret of each one. By art alone, we can get out of ourselves, know what a person sees. Another of this universe which is not the same as ours and whose landscapes would have remained as unknown to us than there may be in the moon. Thanks to art, instead of seeing a single world, ours, we see it multiply, and as many as there are original artists, as many we have worlds at our disposal, more different from each other that those who roll in infinity, and who for many centuries after the heart from which they emanated are extinguished, whether it be called Rembrandt or Ver Meer , send us their special ray. "
Marcel Proust - Recovered time