"The Man Who Planted Trees" by Frédéric Back

In 1987, Frédéric Back, a Canadian artist and film Director, created a stunning 30 minute animated short film based on Jean Giono’s 1953 tale. It earned a number of awards including an Academy Award for Best Animated Short Film. With a beautiful narration in the English language version by Christopher Plummer, the film makes Giono’s characters spring into life. Back's pure and poetic  drawings that blend into one another, his pastel colors  and his silver smooth direction, transport the viewer in the world of a certain Elzéard Bouffier. Now Jean Giono insisted that the man was just a figment of his imagination. That he never really existed. But seeing Frédéric Back’s short film we understand that in the end, it makes no difference if Mr Bouffier was real or not. This story and the film that faithfully captures the essence of it, have already planted their acorns of hope in our mind. And that’s real.        

In Byron's Circean Palace

In a passage from "The Odyssey", Book X, Homer describes Odysseas and his companions arriving in Circe's island. There, in a clearing in the middle of a dense forest, they find her enchanted palace. They are surprised by what they see...  

"...εὗρον δ᾽ ἐν βήσσῃσι τετυγμένα δώματα Κίρκης [210]
ξεστοῖσιν λάεσσι, περισκέπτῳ ἐνὶ χώρῳ·
ἀμφὶ δέ μιν λύκοι ἦσαν ὀρέστεροι ἠδὲ λέοντες,
τοὺς αὐτὴ κατέθελξεν, ἐπεὶ κακὰ φάρμακ᾽ ἔδωκεν.
οὐδ᾽ οἵ γ᾽ ὡρμήθησαν ἐπ᾽ ἀνδράσιν, ἀλλ᾽ ἄρα τοί γε
οὐρῇσιν μακρῇσι περισσαίνοντες ἀνέσταν. [215]
ὡς δ᾽ ὅτ᾽ ἂν ἀμφὶ ἄνακτα κύνες δαίτηθεν ἰόντα
σαίνωσ᾽, αἰεὶ γάρ τε φέρει μειλίγματα θυμοῦ,
ὣς τοὺς ἀμφὶ λύκοι κρατερώνυχες ἠδὲ λέοντες
σαῖνον· τοὶ δ᾽ ἔδεισαν, ἐπεὶ ἴδον αἰνὰ πέλωρα.
ἔσταν δ᾽ ἐν προθύροισι θεᾶς καλλιπλοκάμοιο, [220]
Κίρκης δ᾽ ἔνδον ἄκουον ἀειδούσης ὀπὶ καλῇ,
ἱστὸν ἐποιχομένης μέγαν ἄμβροτον, οἷα θεάων
λεπτά τε καὶ χαρίεντα καὶ ἀγλαὰ ἔργα πέλονται..."

In a forest clearing they found Circe's house— [210]
built of polished stone, with views in all directions.
There were mountain wolves and lions round it,
all bewitched by Circe's wicked potions.
But these beasts made no attack against my men.
No. They stood on their hind legs and fawned,
wagging their long tails. Just as dogs will beg
around their master when he comes from dinner— [215]
since he keeps bringing scraps to please their hearts—
that's how the wolves and sharp-clawed lions there
kept fawning round those men, who were afraid
just looking at those fearful animals.
They stood in fair-haired Circe's gateway [220]
and heard her sweet voice singing in the house,
as she went back and forth before her loom,
weaving a huge, immortal tapestry,
the sort of work which goddesses create,
finely woven, luminous, and beautiful.

(Translated by Ian Johnston)

The poet Percy Bysshe Shelley was similarly surprised many years later when he visited Lord Byron's home in Ravenna. In a letter to Thomas Love Peacock on the 10th of August 1821, Shelley describes Byron's unusual lifestyle at his Circean palace:


"...Lord Byron gets up at two. I get up, quite contrary to my usual custom... at 12. After breakfast we sit talking till six. From six to eight we gallop through the pine forest which divides Ravenna from the sea; we then come home and dine, and sit up gossiping till six in the morning. I don't suppose this will kill me in a week or fortnight, but I shall not try it longer. Lord B.'s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it...


P.S. After I have sealed my letter, I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective, and that in a material point, I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes..."

Nathaniel Hawthorn seemed to know the answer of who they were and what to do with them having dug deep in the original tale of Homer:


“...As for the lions, tigers, and wolves (though Circe would have restored them to their former shapes at his slightest word), Ulysses thought it advisable that they should remain as they now were, and thus give warning of their cruel dispositions, instead of going about under the guise of men, and pretending to human sympathies, while their hearts had the blood- thirstiness of wild beasts. So he let them howl as much as they liked, but never troubled his head about them...” (taken from "Circe’s Palace" found in his "Tanglewood Tales" of 1853)


But in the end those beasts were not all that bad. As a matter of fact, a few of them, with the help of Circe, refined their howling and eventually produced some very beautiful music. Judge for yourselves...     


Listen to:

Wild Beasts - Lion’s share

Η αραχνούφαντη ποίηση του Γιώργου Σαραντάρη

Διαβάζοντας κανείς σήμερα την ποίηση του Γιώργου Σαραντάρη, είναι σαν να ξεκινάει ένα ευγενικό, φανταστικό ταξίδι σε αναζήτηση λεπτοτάτων αποχρώσεων και αισθημάτων διάφανων σαν την πούδρα στα φτερά της πεταλούδας. Τα είπανε "παράξενα" τα ποιήματά του. Και τον υπερευαίσθητο αυτόν άνθρωπο τον αποκαλέσανε αργόσχολο και τον έστειλαν στην πρώτη γραμμή του χιονισμένου Αλβανικού μετώπου να πολεμήσει και να σκοτώσει. Λίγο πριν τον πόλεμο, ο Σαραντάρης είχε πει σε ένα φίλο του: “...αισθάνομαι αγωνία, όχι μήπως σκοτωθώ αλλά μόνο μήπως είμαι αναγκασμένος να σκοτώσω”.  Έμενε σε ένα νεοκλασσικό σπίτι, που δεν ξέρω αν σώζεται σήμερα στην Αθήνα, Κοδριγκτώνος 42. Στις τέσσερις μικρές συλλογές ποιημάτων που κατάφερε να εκδόσει ο Σαραντάρης ("Οι αγάπες του χρόνου" - Αθήνα 1933, "Τα ουράνια" - Αθήνα 1934, “Αστέρια" - Αθήνα 1935, "Στους φίλους μιας άλλης χαράς" - Αθήνα 1940), έρχονται να προστεθούν δοκίμια και φιλοσοφικές μελέτες που βρέθηκαν ανάμεσα στα χαρτιά του και που τον καθιστούν πρόδρομο του Υπαρξισμού πολύ πριν η ναυτία κυριέψει τις λέξεις. Ακολουθούν δύο παραδείγματα αυτής της αραχνούφαντης, λιτής ποίησης παρμένα από τη συλλογή "Οι αγάπες του χρόνου", 1933:    

ΑΥΡΙΟ 

Και αίσθημα και αίσθηση αφήσανε 

οι ανεπαίσθητοι ουρανοί 

χαϊδεύοντας τις επιφάνειες.

ΑΝΥΠΑΡΞΙΑ

Η θάλασσα, πάνε θλιμμένα χρόνια,

επέθανε

γύρω της κλείνουνε στεριές

και ορίζοντες.

Δεν είναι δύσκολο να φανταστεί κανείς πως εξελίχθηκε το τελευταίο κεφάλαιο της σύντομης ζωής του Σαραντάρη. Αρρώστησε από τύφο στην πρώτη γραμμή του πολέμου και πέθανε λίγο μετά τον γυρισμό του στην Αθήνα στις 25 Φεβρουαρίου 1941, σε ηλικία 32 ετών. Ο Οδυσσέας Ελύτης, που τον είχε γνωρίσει προσωπικά, παρέχει περισσότερα στοιχεία για το τραγικό τέλος του στα "Ανοιχτά χαρτιά". Μπορεί να έσπασαν τα μυωπικά του γυαλιά και να εξαυλώθηκε ο ποιητής μέσα σε αυτή τη τρέλλα της κατάρρευσης όλων των αξιών. Μπορεί, όπως λέει και ο Prospero του Shakespeare, όλα να έχουν ένα τέλος και ο ύπνος να έπνιξε το όνειρο του Σαραντάρη:


"Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep.”                                   The Tempest Act 4, scene 1, 148–158

Εμείς όμως μένουμε εδώ να ακολουθήσουμε τα χνάρια που άφησε ο ποιητής στο χιόνι, να συνεχίσουμε να θέτουμε τα ίδια καίρια και διαχρονικά ερωτήματα. Μα τελικά την απάντηση ίσως να την έχει ήδη δώσει ο Σαραντάρης όταν έγραφε σε ένα άλλο του ποίημα:


"Όπου και αν πηγαίνουμε μας υποδέχεται η μουσική
αλλά δεν είμαστε, δεν γινήκαμε ακόμα όνειρα και
συνεπώς απορούμε."

Αξίζει να δείτε ένα ενδιαφέρον ντοκυμαντέρ για τον ποιητή και να ακολουθήσετε το link απο κάτω για να βρείτε περισσότερα ποιήματα του Σαραντάρη:



Εποχές και συγγραφείς: Γιώργος Σαραντάρης from Αντίφωνο (antifono.gr) on Vimeo.

Ιστοσελίδα με ποιήματα του Γ. Σαραντάρη

Lovelock and the perfect race

John ("Jack") Edward Lovelock (5 January 1910 – 28 December 1949) was a New Zealand runner who specialised in the 1500 metres. In 1936 he took part in the nazi organised Olympic games held in Berlin. The best athletes from around the world converged in the German capital to compete. The stakes were high as the athletes battled not only for personal fame and glory but for ideas and beliefs that were of worldwide importance at the time. Jesse Owens of course would go on to win four gold medals delivering a message of defiance and black pride in front of Hitler but also in the face of his home country, the United States, where segregation and racism were rampant. 


And then there was also the 1500 metre race. The final turned out to be one of the most memorable events in athletics history. On the starting line there were:
- Glenn Cunningham, the American mile world record holder, 
- Bill Bonthron the 1932 Olympic Games 1500m champion, 
- Luigi Beccali, the Italian champion, 
- Sydney Wooderson, the emerging English champion,
- John 'Jerry’ Cornes, silver medalist in Los Angeles,
- Erik Ny, the Swedish champion, 
- Phil Edwards and Gene Venzke, both outstanding Canadian and American athletes. And finally, there was Lovelock. 


The above 1992 New Zealand short film was written by Stuart Hoar, produced by Bruce Sheridan and directed by David Robertson. It brilliantly portrays the way Lovelock decided to surprise the other runners by running a seemingly impossible race. He trained hard to be able to start his sprint early and on the day managed to run the perfect race. Shot in black and white with effective cutting and a lot of atmosphere, this little gem is well worth watching.    


On the 28 of December 1949, Lovelock was hit by a New York city subway train after falling on the tracks. 
   

"Still life with a balloon" by Wistawa Szymborska

The following poem by Wistawa Szymborska was included in a collection of poems published in 1957 under the title “Calling out to Yeti”. A "still life" in painting, is a work of art depicting mostly inanimate subject matter, typically ordinary objects which may be either natural or man-made. Here we have a poem that is a still life. The canvas laid out before us is life itself as we look at it from a certain distance. The poet does not use memories to paint this canvas. For memories are deceitful, fabricated with old age or suppressed on purpose. They contain colours that cannot withstand the passing of time and fade away. But objects; our life is full of them. They come and they go. They contain fragments of our character, our age, our self. We can assemble the pieces in the puzzle. We can faithfully retrace a path with objects. Like Hansel’s little white pebbles we will look back and find our way. But if in the end we find ourselves still staring at a dark canvas, there is hope. Hope in the lost objects. The ones that got away. The forsaken ones. And they will lead us back in time faithfully. They might even show us an alternative ending or beginning. Like “Rosebud” in Citizen Cane, the balloon in this poem will be the object that will ring the bell of truth and will eventually liberate the poet.  


STILL LIFE WITH A BALLOON by Wistawa Szymborska

Returning memories?

No, at the time of death

I’d like to see lost objects

return instead

Avalanches of gloves,

coats, suitcases, umbrellas -

come, and I’ll say at last:

What good’s all this?

Safety pins, two odd combs,

a paper rose, a knife,

some string-come, and I’ll say

at last: I haven’t missed you.

Please turn up, key, come out,

wherever you’ve been hiding,

in time for me to say:

You’ve gotten rusty, my friend!

Downpours of affidavits,

permits and questionnaires,

rain down and I will say:

I see the sun behind you.

My watch, dropped in a river,

bob up and let me seize you-

then, face to face, I’ll say:

Your so-called time is up. 

And lastly, toy balloon

once kidnapped by the wind-

come home, and I will say:

There are no children here.

Fly out the open window

and into the wide world;

let someone else shout “Look!”

and I will cry.

(The poem can be found in the book Wistawa Szymborska “Poems new and collected 1957-1997” translated by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh, Harcourt editions. Thank you John Sortix for this wonderful gift) 

Complicité’s performance of “The Master and Margarita"

"...'It was like this’, the prisoner began talking  eagerly. 'The evening before last, near the temple, I made the acquaintance of a young  man who called himself Judas, from the town of Kiriath. He invited me to his place in the Lower City and treated me to...'
     'A good man?' Pilate asked, and a devilish fire flashed in his eyes.
     'A very good man and an inquisitive one,' the prisoner confirmed. ‘He showed the greatest  interest in my thoughts and received me very cordially...'
     'Lit the lamps...' Pilate spoke through his teeth, in the same tone as the prisoner, and his eyes glinted.
     Yes,' Yeshua went on, slightly surprised that  the procurator was so well informed, 'and asked me to give my view of state authority. He was extremely interested in this question.'
     'And what did you say?' asked Pilate.'Or are you going to reply that you've forgotten what you said?' But there was already hopelessness in Pilate's tone.
     `Among other things,' the prisoner recounted,`I said that all authority is violence over people, and that a time will come when there will be no authority of the Caesars, nor any other authority. Man will pass into the kingdom of truth and justice, where generally there will be no need for any authority.'
     'Go on!'
     'I didn't go on,' said the prisoner. 'Here men ran in, bound me, and took me away to prison.’...”

Extract from the novel “The Master and Margarita” by Mikhail Bulgakov     

The British theatre group “Complicité” is one of the most exciting theatre groups in the world today. Their amazing performance of Bulgakov’s masterpiece “ The Master and Margarita” left the audience stunned. Incorporating moving cameras projected on the screen, shadow play, puppets, miming, microphones and superb acting throughout they did much better justice to the play than Pontius Pilate would ever hope for if he could turn back the time. All hail Simon McBurney! Next performances are scheduled for 15 March 2012 - 7 April 2012 / 19:15, 14:00 at the Barbican Theatre in London. Don’t miss it for the world.
  

Ο Καιόμενος του Τάκη Σινόπουλου

Ο Καιόμενος
Το ποίημα ανήκει στη συλλογή Μεταίχμιο Β (1957)

Κοιτάχτε μπήκε στη φωτιά! είπε ένας από το πλήθος.

Γυρίσαμε τα μάτια γρήγορα. Ήταν
στ’ αλήθεια αυτός που απόστρεψε το πρόσωπο, όταν του
μιλήσαμε. Και τώρα καίγεται. Μα δε φωνάζει βοήθεια.


Διστάζω. Λέω να πάω εκεί. Να τον αγγίξω με το χέρι μου.
Είμαι από τη φύση μου φτιαγμένος να παραξενεύομαι.


Ποιος είναι τούτος που αναλίσκεται περήφανος;
Το σώμα του το ανθρώπινο δεν τον πονά;


Η χώρα εδώ είναι σκοτεινή. Και δύσκολη. Φοβάμαι.
Ξένη φωτιά μην την ανακατεύεις, μου είπαν.


Όμως εκείνος καίγονταν μονάχος. Καταμόναχος.
Κι όσο αφανίζονταν τόσο άστραφτε το πρόσωπο.


Γινόταν ήλιος.


Στην εποχή μας όπως και σε περασμένες εποχές
άλλοι είναι μέσα στη φωτιά κι άλλοι χειροκροτούνε.


Ο ποιητής μοιράζεται στα δυο.