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Posts tagged “painting

3 haiku

 

a fractal casting
of Euclidean silence
dances on my leg

 

 

 

a rustling of leaves,
tangents – timidly pacing
the night  on each foot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 


©

sprawled upon the ground
lay many moving shadows.
– just shuffled through three.

(this very moment..)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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an old painting of a young pianist at his post, at intermission

guida_2oilpaintCarl_lostpaintings_photoManuelaSandeFreire

Man & his piano – GA  (a lost work, oil on hardboard –  © painting photographed by  M Sande Freire) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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CA – um conto sonoro para o inverno dos tempos (a soundscape that is Lunar and otherwise)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gemeos

 

Estarei ainda muito perto da luz?
Poderei esquecer
estes rostos,estas vozes,
e ficar diante do meu rosto?
Às vezes,como num sonho,
vejo formas como um rosto
e pergunto:”De quem é este rosto?”
E ainda:”Quem pergunta isto?”
E:”E com quem fala?”
Estarei ainda longe de Ti,
quem quer que sejas ou eu seja?
Cresce a noite à minha volta,
terei palavras para falar-Te?
E compreenderás Tu este,
não sei qual de nós,que procura
a Tua face entre as sombras?
Quando eu me calar
sabei que estarei diante de uma coisa imensa.
E que esta é a minha voz,
o que no fundo de isto se escuta.

de Nenhum Sítio(1984)
– de Manuel António Pina

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Music by G. Costa | Artwork by G. Almeida | poem by Manuel Antonio Pina

 

 

 

 

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Gabriel José García Márquez

© Guida Almeida

 

 

© Guida Almeida

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Español:

(…)En aquél Macondo olvidado hasta por los pájaros, dónde el polvo y el calor se habían hecho tan tenaces que costaba trabajo respirar, recluidos por la soledad y el amor y por la soledad del amor en una casa dónde era casi imposible dormir por el estruendo de las hormigas coloradas, Aureliano y Amaranta Ursula eran los únicos seres felices, y los más felices sobre la tierra. ”

 

 

English:

(…) In that Macondo forgotten even by the birds, where the dust and the heat had become so strong that it was difficult to breathe, secluded by solitude and love and by the solitude of love in a house where it was almost impossible to sleep because of the noise of the red ants, Aureliano, and Amaranta Úrsula were the only happy beings, and the most happy of beings on the face of the earth.

 

 

Português:

(…)Naquele Macondo esquecido até pelos pássaros, onde o pó e o calor tinham sido tão tenazes que era trabalho difícil respirar, enclausurados pela solidão e pelo amor e pela solidão do amor numa casa onde era quase impossível dormir com o barulho das formigas ruivas, Aureliano e Amaranta Úrsula eram os únicos seres felizes, e mais os mais felizes sobre a terra.

 

 

 

(des)Larguem-me!

 

 

 

Goodnight sweet angel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Sebastião Salgado (a truly powerful message – w/ French, English subtitles)

 

(français)

(english)

 

(below is a LINK with this video available in 34 languages – open and choose your preference)

http://www.amara.org/en/videos/f1MY7ozU0lIQ/url/475363/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Praia de F___________III (2011 - G.Almeida)

Praias de F… NºIII
(2011 – G.Almeida)


Olha para mim e me ama. Não: tu olhas para ti e te amas. É o que está certo. (Clarice Lispector)

© Guida Almeida

E depois saberei como pintar e escrever, depois da estranha mas íntima resposta. Ouve-me, ouve o silêncio. O que te falo nunca é o que eu te falo e sim outra coisa. Capta essa coisa que me escapa e no entanto vivo dela e estou à tona de brilhante escuridão. (…)
Entro lentamente em dádiva a mim mesma, esplendor dilacerado pelo cantar último que parece ser o primeiro.
(… ..)
Nova era, esta minha, e ela me anuncia para já. Tenho coragem? Por enquanto estou tendo:porque venho do sofrido longe, venho do inferno do amor mas agora estou livre de ti. Venho do longe – de uma pesada ancestralidade. Eu que venho da dor de viver.  E não a quero mais.  Quero a vibração do alegre
(… ..)
Será que passei sem sentir para o outro lado? O outro lado é uma vida lantejantemente infernal.  Mas há transfiguração do meu terror: então entrego-me a uma pesada vida toda em símbolos pesados como frutas maduras. (…) Uma parte mínima de lembrança de bom senso de meu passado me mantém roçando ainda o lado de cá.  Ajude-me porque alguma coisa se aproxima e ri de mim. Depressa, salva-me.
Mas… (…)
Mas o quê? a resposta é apenas: sou o quê.  Embora às vezes grite: não quero mais ser eu!!  mas eu me grudo a mim e inextrincavelmente forma-se uma tessitura de vida.

Quem me acompanha que me acompanhe: a caminhada é longa, é sofrida mas é vivida.

(… ..)

O que te escrevo continua e estou enfeitiçada.

Clarice Lispector  –  texto retirado do livro : «Água Viva» 

© Guida Almeida

Gaia   – um trabalho também conhecido através dos nomes
“Gê” ou “Banhista”
110cm x 83cm, tintas acrílicas s/tela, 
© Guida Almeida 2005,
fotografia de Sandra Ramos,
propriedade da Câmara Municipal de Lisboa


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George Mraz: bass / Steve Kuhn: piano / Billy Drummond: drums

 

 

 

 

 

Richie Beirach: piano / Frank Tusa: bass / Jeff Williams: drums

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Humanity, Profit.., and an urgent message. (English & Portuguese)

 

This is a message for Humanity (♥) and a very important one:
It seems,
They are repeating,
We should adhere,
I believe,
and You might say.

 

(Desejo-vos a todos um excelente dia)

 

I leave you a    v i d e o-clip     just under 2 minutes long a quote some of that which is said:
« (…) this is a message by “the People” to “the People” (…) »

 

 

(PT)
Deixo-vos com uma mensagem, um    v i d e o        que dura pouco menos de 2 minutos.

I also include the following LINK- to a song.. I also leave you with a song that at the     t i m e      was performed to one whom dignifies Mankind.

(PT)
– E deixo uma música. Na altura foi tocada para homenagear um “G”rande ser, um ser com “S” bem grande..

O “Lucro” é algo que se define consoante os padrões (ética, estética, moralidade e/ou ausência da mesma.. )
de quem o o deseja.

Há lucros que pouco ou “nada” são.
Outros que são faces fragmentais da destruição e/ou do empobrecimento do Ser que os cobiça.
Há lucro que é e/ou conduz às coisas da Morte
(“Morte” no seu sentido mais lato e múltiplo)

– e há o outro tipo de lucro.
Aquele lucro que se tem ao ver nascer o dia seguinte, ou, aquele que se recebe ao ir ao encontro do Outro.

Pelo menos para alguns, a vida é uma dádiva, por isso mesmo “lucro”.

Há milhares de tipos de lucro conforme o acto e a vontade por de trás do mesmo.

Agora se é para o “Bem” ou para o “Mal”.. isso já é outra história (parece-me)

where there is a WILL there is a WAY

Yes a handful of us in any given place can be rotten to the core.. will profit from the death of babies and laugh as one’s own mother’s back’s is broken.. but most are not so.

It takes a coward to  succumb to Averice, Greed and Fear
(all foods of Hatred and Destruction, that awful couple that fathers “Doom”)

– but the noble heart shall shine through the darkness of those who would do him/her ill or attempt to cheat.

The cheating of the Other into becoming as they, a small worthless empty shell from whence no sound escapes nor light for they are “Naught”, where all is but deception –
– is as vile an act as the destruction a few desire to perpetrate for the lucre of  “false” gold;
for a “profit” they hysterically believe they can take with them.. to that small black hole they’ll inevitably end up in…

Long life to those whom are unconstrained, unenslaved,  unfettered, liberated and unbound to such flaws that would imprison their Humanity, who are invigorated through the beauty of    c o m i n g     to the rescue of the Other
(and themselves),
– through LOVE.
May they prosper and multiply.

 

– to all i wish a nice day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thanks…

(For  the 24th)

 

 
© Guida AlmeidaThanks

Thanks for giving /
Forgiving /
and for giving
(forgiving)
Thanks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next:
for the 25th
(Portuguese Polyphony)

 

 

 
Next:
for Saturday & Sunday
from me to you (music & artwork).

 

Have a blessed weekend.

 

 

Thanksgiving having already been on the second Monday of October in Canada, and now upon having past the fourth Thursday of this month (the US date),  I leave all with my sincere wishes for a happy and safe weekend
(holiday for those celebrating)

 

I bring to this “table” two things, one is mine and the other.. well…….
I guess the other is too in two aspects. I’ll give my reasons.

1. the arts become a part any man’s existance and expression of “Being” whether it be through music, literature, sculpture, dance, painting…
regardless of their geographic and historic origin as long as he/she whom recieves it identifies him or herself with it;
or if you will, as long as it “touches one’s inner being” making it thenceforth vibrate, rich and fecund with “life”
It then become’s a part of any man’s or woman’s “footprint” upon this earth.

2.  Also, being a Portuguese citizen I have inherited “ART” from this nation, as I have from Canada.
It belongs to, and defines somewhat, my cultural background.

 

 

Therefore I leave you with two video clips of mine.
One with work created/performed/painted/drawn by me,
the other by Duarte Lobo – 1565 – 1646
(beautifully performed I must add)
and thus inherited by me.

 

 

 

Please have a lovely weekend, full of tenderness and grace.

 

 

Love M.

(Guida)

 

 

 

 

 

 


September 11

Fotografia de Alice Valente Alves – photographer
Fotografia de ALICE VALENTE ALVES – photographer

This stunning image above is a full colour fotograph taken by Alice Valente Alves of a misty grey NYC dawn. ___________________________________________
In an age of intolerance and rampant police state tactics across the globe…
A decade ago from this day we have lived in such an age, or at least such is and has been manifest thenceforth to a far higher degree than ever before.
This was a day for change on a global level in many aspects and one could instantly feel it as the day’s events unfolded.. as one watched in a stupified, alarmed daze helplessly witnessing horror – perpetrated by mindless predjudice that walks about hand in hand with intolerance.

Reminded by a friend moments ago, an equally horrid day was this precise day – September 11, in 1973
with the assassination of Salvador Allende and the horridic reign of treachery that ensued.
Truly a day of intolerance.. whereupon a fraction of Mankind rears it’s ugly head and wreaks terror upon all others.

Any mind that is blinded by greed, hatred or predjudice withers and dies.
It becomes a feable shell full of worthless quotation and campaign, incapable of sustaining a thought of its own – a helpless cripple that succumbs to the poisons of Man and the false notion of superiority.

There is no honour in terror. In terror there is only terror – and emptiness.

I leave below a painting created almost a year after these deadly and cruel occurrances 10 years ago and videos of two pieces by Charlie Haden as a token of just homage not only to the victims of terror of this day, but victims everywhere that succumb to intolerance, greed and blood thirsty scavengers. The image (the painting here at the bottom) is also a protest to how this world has become dystopic, and how lust for power and greed keep murdering people through: hunger, physical torture/strife, racial/religeous saction of all kinds, blind fanaticism, neo-liberal slaveries and the ill use of “slogan” in order to perpetuate intolerable manipulation (to confuse and confound all around). This post is in memory to the victims of the day, and to Man’s struggle to keep a sound soul.. in an age of cold “fake” cash.

I also leave videos of the man

and

plus a piece by Charlie Haden performed by his Liberation Music Orchestra on David Sanborn’s Nightmusic

and his “Silence”

I further leave a link with a tribute to the Hudson River School of painters GUIDA FINE ARTS

– and below this
– my “Ab ovo: IV”


Quinta-feira, 24 de Março de 2011

An Involuntary Redemption

(first posted at – GUIDA FINE ARTS )

“Kafka – © Guida Almeida
An Involuntary Redemption

Hope,that solitary mistress…
somehow abandons me, yet the sun doth shine somewhere
even though babies cry under bullets perhaps sold by my treasonous hand.
The air on the other side seems stale.
I dare not open the door for I fear the rumble of rats..
Persistently stalk, spread disease and invade my lost innocence,
they are are no friends of mine.
If they screech out my name I know them not.
Given no heed, at times the battle seems lost forever
by acts treacherous as they are involuntary.
Eyes not withstanding, a heart incapable of grasping a vision’s full compass,
The Lord thus eases my pain through an apparent blindness.
Still, in a myriad of fragmental imagery I am brought to my knees torn by tearful doubt.
Redemption of what I know not brings no solace.
and (to the East) I sigh
as I search.. and find but dark thought.
I thus come to you with my candle,
in an involuntary redemption

(To Libya,
to the human desert,
to gun running warlords as they greedily
murder me…
an utter rage of silence
and opposition)
.

nas margens

At The Shores of a Greater Go(o)d… Nas margens de um Deus maior…



 

© Guida Almeida

sitting at the shores, I hurriedly await ,

ah…

here.