Faun

  Claude Monet hela världen är en glasskål och himlen buktar sig över åkrarna  han bestämde sig en dag för att promenera  över stigarna av röd jord mellan sädesfälten de mörkgröna skogarna kom han på villovägar vid glasskålens kant  fälten lyssnande till vårtbitarna axen före skörd solen skärvor av månen den blå himlen  skymtande sin egen spegelbild i glaset det kortaste av ögonblick  skillnader och likheter såg den andras ögon vidgas i gräsets suddiga stjärnor  snabbare än ljudet och närmare jorden långsammare  snö mot den varma jorden - the whole world a glass bowl, the sky curves over the fields. One day he decided to walk along the paths of red earth between the grain fields and the dark green forests, where he lost his way at the glass bowl’s edge. the corn’s ears listen to the crickets, the stalks before harvest, the sun, fragments of the moon the sky for the briefest of moments he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass seeing the differences and similarities, the other

  Monet, Grainstacks, White Frost Effect. 1889.   Jean-Paul Sartre asserted not only that reality is subjective  but that no objective reality exists at all . For him, objectivity was not just a mistake but a complete illusion. This radical subjectivity entails a total absence of objective meaning, leading us to a kind of existential angst . This is not a new idea. I guess Shakespeare at least brushed upon this thought by the end of the 16th century. Did it make him dizzy? Surely, it is more than just a common fear of death Hamlet expresses in his monologue? In any case, it is interesting how concepts can be linked, how a distinct concept like subjectivism can imply meaninglessness. What do this line of thought create? Hesitant, amazed at the implications of this thought line, time and again on stages throughout history To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub, For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must

Gustave Caillebotte Sketches  that explore different semi-fictionalized narratives delving into various modes of memory.  The narratives explore the nuanced boundary between memory and imagination, navigating through trauma before culminating in memory and personal identity. 1. Remembering and imagining The question of how to distinguish between remembering and imagining is importantly ambiguous. On the one hand, we sometimes remember but do so in a way that is in some sense inadequate; in such cases, we naturally say that we are “only imagining”.  The question can thus be taken to concern the distinction between cases in which the subject remembers successfully and cases in which he remembers  unsuccessfully .  Excerpt  from Memory /  Remembering and imagining ,  Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy .    "Damned nonsense," he muttered to himself and pulled out a band with small brown beads that he began to finger.    "Excuse me?" asked the man next to him.    "

Vilhelm Hammershøi,  Solstråler "You should build a memory palace," she said one day as we sat discussing personal matters. It was eight in the evening in Sweden and late morning at her place. "What's that?" I asked. "Like a fixed building or place one returns to in memory... I'll send a book," she replied after a moment of thought. "Okay," I responded, feeling tired. It had been a long day. This was many years ago, and oddly enough, that advice and, to some extent, the book did change my life. It's an overused phrase, that something changes one's life, but the book that eventually arrived was like a key to, well, my memory palace. The book was titled The Art of Memory  by Frances Yates. Building my memory palace wasn't easy or quick, and maintaining it isn't simple either. Yet, it allowed me to construct a powerful reservoir within consciousness, functioning as an inner layer of reality. In short, it enabled me to store a

Lesser Ury, Hochbahnhof Bülowstraße, 1922 Below is a brief prose fragment from a story I conceived this summer.  He woke up and sat up in bed. His pulse was racing, throbbing in his ears like drumbeats. For a moment, he just sat there, clutching the blanket and staring ahead. He did nothing but try to calm his breathing. The shadows behind the blinds from the tree branches outside. He didn't really know who he was. But eventually, he rose heavily and looked at the alarm clock. Half past two. He swore. He knew exactly who he was. As often happens when he woke up this way, he became wide awake. He put on his bathrobe and sat down at the computer. Sometimes, reading something on the Internet helped. But his heart continued to pound hard, and the computer's blue light gave him a headache. The Swedish-Danish wars in the 15th century and the bark beetles' spread in northern Uppland didn't help either, so he pulled up the blinds. It was still dark outside the window. The light

  Evaporating locomotive at night, 1896, Hermann Pleuer (1863–1911) ”… we are sometimes inclined to say that some of the thoughts, decisions and actions that we undertake are not really one’s own …” Source: SEP What does this mean? Authenticity, in its strongest sense, implies being of unquestionable origin or creator. In a slightly weaker sense, it means being akin to the original or serving as a credible representation. When we declare something as authentic, we affirm that it is exactly what it claims to be. These are potent words. If one is of unquestionable origin or creator, they possess something of indisputable value. However, if one merely resembles the original, their value diminishes. They are no longer the creator but a mere semblance of one. If one lacks authenticity entirely, they are devoid of creative essence and fail even as a credible representation or likeness of the original. They become mundane. What does it mean to be oneself or akin to the original? When one t