It is not as if the Royal Collection lacks art from fifteenth century Italy. I remember, about fifteen years ago now, having, in effect, a private view of Andrea Mantegna's Triumphs of Caesar at Hampton Court - they had, at that point, been removed from the public rooms, but, being a pushy student, I asked to see them. It was a memorable half hour in front of images remarkable for their classicising style and sheer magnitude, with an equally interesting history to tell as one of the purchases of Charles I from the sale of the Gonzaga treasures. Perhaps the Mantegna are considered too frail to travel for exhibitions, but there are other quattrocento works available as well in the Royal Collection. The Queen can feast her eyes on a work by Benozzo Gozzoli, best known for his lively frescoes in the Medici Palace in Florence. Up the road and to the right from there, the convent of San Marco hides within its tranquil, contemplative walls the work of Fra Angelico, also represented among Her Majesty's artworks. The exhibition could also have branched out into ceramics and included the bust by Guido Mazzoni of a laughing child, owned by Henry VII as one of the first Italian Renaissance items in the English royal collection. But all were absent, leaving out at least a century of what I would consider Renaissance art.

The Royal Collection's decision implicitly to define the Renaissance as sixteenth century is in many ways a return to an old fashion. Many would now use the terms High Renaissance and (though highly problematic) Mannerist to describe the trends in art of the generations of Michelangelo and his followers. But, to the nineteenth century, this is where it truly was: the art of the quattrocento - Masolino and Massaccio, Piero della Francesca, Mantegna himself - constituted ‘the Primitives', before the grace and supposed perfection of the early cinquecento so influentially by Vasari. Few, however, would consider that we should return to those designations or that periodisation.

The real question, of course, is whether it matters. After all, the Royal Collection have provided a pleasurable exhibition which fits into the space available. In many ways, it does not matter or, rather, should not - but there are two current issues which do give it some import. In the first place, it relates to the academic division between ‘medieval' and ‘early modern', which, in history departments tends to fall around the year 1500. As someone who studies both sides of that divide and who sometimes describes himself an expert in that part of the Middle Ages called the Renaissance, this is one more example of a tendency which reinforces an unfortunate separation which we should be working instead to undermine.

This, though, is about more than the relatively unimportant matter of how academic departments choose to organise themselves. What is also at stake is how we perceive historical ‘progress.' There are surely few, if any, historians who would admit to believing that there was some definable shift from ‘medieval' to ‘early modern', a moment or simple process moving from one era of society to another. The passage from past to present is more complex, and much less about a linear vector of development, than that would suggest. But I would want to take this further and to warn against making too close an association between different cultural ‘movements' or phenomena. Historiography can provide many ‘Renaissances', particularly clustered in the sixteenth century but - as the case of Italy shows - not confined to that time-period. In popular textbooks, the impression can be given that those Renaissances, usually defined by country, share an identity, as if it were a baton-race from nation to nation. It is wise to be aware of the evident links between these phenomena, but all the more essential to appreciate the disconnections and the distance between them. In the end, we can use the concept as we wish, either confining our own use to the sixteenth century or allowing to range from the fourteenth to the seventeenth centuries in chosen contexts - just as long as we recognise we are always constructing ‘Renaissances' for ourselves rather than expressing some ineffable reality.

In short, it is tidier to have a Renaissance confined to the sixteenth century and certainly less complicated to imagine it was a single phenomenon which manifested itself across Europe. But, in this case, I am on the side of messiness.

an unfinished person (in an unfinished universe)

The first can be seen above in the header to this blog, which was adapted from a collage/design by JR Rost featured on a CD cover for Charles Ives' Universe Symphony, American Festival of Microtonal Music Orchestra, conducted by Johnny Reinhard. At left is a painting from William Blake titled Newton. According to The Stereo Society website, which produced the CD:

William Blake (1757-1827) created his Newton as an 18"x24" color print finished in pen and ink and watercolor around 1805. It works just nicely on the cover of the Universe Symphony. However Blake was actually taking issue with his contemporary Isaac Newton, satirising him and implying that even if he could measure everything he still would not know all the secrets of the universe. Blake, a religious and mystical man, shows Newton with his dividers measuring the symbol of the Trinity, which he implied is not measurable.

While this was not planned, I think the theme fits in perfectly with the ideas behind this blog. None of us can know all the secrets of the universe, neither can we keep God in a box. We all are unfinished.

just a (running) fool

Here, I incorporated a photo taken by friend Ann Loftus, then Ann Halvorsen, as I cross the finish line of my first (and so far only) 5-miler at the George Sheehan Classic in 2004 in Red Bank, N.J.

Journeying with the Saints

This is from a painting called "Christ Glorified in the Court of Heaven" by Fra Angelico, an early Italian Renaissance painter, who was known as ili Beato Angelico in Italy and also as Fra Giovanni da Fiesole (Brother Giovanni Angelico). While the previous header I had was fine for capturing the reflective nature of this blog, this new header captures the new title of the blog: "Journeying with the Saints." The former title was "Journeying with St. Ignatius," as it was started when I was undertaking The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.

unfinished rambling(s)

This blog previously had the same header as was used for my main blog, an unfinished person (in an universe), with a galaxy. However, it didn't really capture the theme of the blog. Now with the front hood of a Nash Rambler, I think it captures a little more of the random nature of this blog. Plus it wasn't done with anything fancy, just with Microsoft Paint.

just a (reading) fool

This is the only one that has remained unchanged since it has started. For those curious from where the header for this blog originated, it was from a photo of me reading a book on vacation in August 2004 at Ferry Beach State Park near Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

While the previous header I had was fine for capturing the reflective nature of this blog, this new header captures the new title of the blog: "Journeying with the Saints." The former title was "Journeying with St. Ignatius," as it was started when I was undertaking The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.

an unfinished person (in an unfinished universe):

The header to this blog was adapted from a collage/design by JR Rost featured on a CD cover for Charles Ives' Universe Symphony, American Festival of Microtonal Music Orchestra, conducted by Johnny Reinhard. At left is a painting from William Blake titled Newton. According to The Stereo Society website, which produced the CD:

William Blake (1757-1827) created his Newton as an 18"x24" color print finished in pen and ink and watercolor around 1805. It works just nicely on the cover of the Universe Symphony. However Blake was actually taking issue with his contemporary Isaac Newton, satirising him and implying that even if he could measure everything he still would not know all the secrets of the universe. Blake, a religious and mystical man, shows Newton with his dividers measuring the symbol of the Trinity, which he implied is not measurable.

While this was not planned, I think the theme fits in perfectly with the ideas behind this blog. None of us can know all the secrets of the universe, neither can we keep God in a box. We all are unfinished.

just a (running) fool

Here, I incorporated a photo taken by friend Ann Loftus, then Ann Halvorsen, as I cross the finish line of my first (and so far only) 5-miler at the George Sheehan Classic in 2004 in Red Bank, N.J.

unfinished rambling(s)

This blog previously had the same header as was used for my main blog, an unfinished person (in an universe), with a galaxy. However, it didn't really capture the theme of the blog. Now with the front hood of a Nash Rambler, I think it captures a little more of the random nature of this blog. Plus it wasn't done with anything fancy, just with Microsoft Paint.

just a (reading) fool

This is the only one that has remained unchanged since it has started. For those curious from where the header for my just a (reading) fool blog originated, it was from a photo of me reading a book on vacation in August 2004 at Ferry Beach State Park near Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

an unfinished person (in an unfinished universe):

The first can be seen above in the header to this blog, which was adapted from a collage/design by JR Rost featured on a CD cover for Charles Ives' Universe Symphony, American Festival of Microtonal Music Orchestra, conducted by Johnny Reinhard. At left is a painting from William Blake titled Newton. According to The Stereo Society website, which produced the CD:

William Blake (1757-1827) created his Newton as an 18"x24" color print finished in pen and ink and watercolor around 1805. It works just nicely on the cover of the Universe Symphony. However Blake was actually taking issue with his contemporary Isaac Newton, satirising him and implying that even if he could measure everything he still would not know all the secrets of the universe. Blake, a religious and mystical man, shows Newton with his dividers measuring the symbol of the Trinity, which he implied is not measurable.

While this was not planned, I think the theme fits in perfectly with the ideas behind this blog. None of us can know all the secrets of the universe, neither can we keep God in a box. We all are unfinished.

just a (running) fool

Here, I incorporated a photo taken by friend Ann Loftus, then Ann Halvorsen, as I cross the finish line of my first (and so far only) 5-miler at the George Sheehan Classic in 2004 in Red Bank, N.J.

Journeying with the Saints

This is from a painting called "Christ Glorified in the Court of Heaven" by Fra Angelico, an early Italian Renaissance painter, who was known as ili Beato Angelico in Italy and also as Fra Giovanni da Fiesole (Brother Giovanni Angelico). While the previous header I had was fine for capturing the reflective nature of this blog, this new header captures the new title of the blog: "Journeying with the Saints." The former title was "Journeying with St. Ignatius," as it was started when I was undertaking The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.

unfinished rambling(s)

This blog previously had the same header as was used for my main blog, an unfinished person (in an universe), with a galaxy. However, it didn't really capture the theme of the blog. Now with the front hood of a Nash Rambler, I think it captures a little more of the random nature of this blog. Plus it wasn't done with anything fancy, just with Microsoft Paint.

just a (reading) fool

This is the only one that has remained unchanged since it has started. For those curious from where the header for my just a (reading) fool blog originated, it was from a photo of me reading a book on vacation in August 2004 at Ferry Beach State Park near Old Orchard Beach, Maine.

Se poate intampla asta si cu muzeele. Poate ne luam un ghid! Dar de multe ori vrem sa privim in liniste si nestingheriti, sa analizam fiecare element important pentru noi. In nici un caz nu am vrea sa descoperim ca am omis un tablou, vreo opera despre care nu am stiut ca se  afla in holul respectiv, o expunere ascunsa privirii neinitiate. Ne-ar parea prea rau!

In aceasta sectiune va propunem o vizita prin muzeele din lume. Le luam usor, la pas si in liniste. Incercam sa le descoperim virtual iar atunci cand le vom vizita ele nu vor mai avea lucruri de ascuns pentru noi. Vom fi independenti dar cunoscatori.

Sunteti gata?

Ce s-ar intampla daca am putea descrie lumea fiecarui tablou? Dar daca am vedea-o tridimensional si am sti povestile ei? Daca am reusi sa intuim ce a vrut sa transmita autorul? Daca tabloul ar prinde viata sub ochii nostri impresionati?

Fiecare tablou transmite un mesaj! Uneori este cel pe care a vrut sa il transmita autorul, alteori este cel pe care il vad criticii de arta in el. Insa, de fiecare data, trebuie privit in adancime pentru a-l descoperi.

Atunci cand daruiesti vorbesti despre tine. Cauta in arhiva povestea tabloului! Poate ca am incercat sa o descoperim deja. Daca nu revin-o, o vom adauga! Asa vei reusi sa adaugi un plus de valoare felicitarii tale, un plus de farmec persoanei tale, un plus de cunoastere!

Mai putem cunoaste ceva in plus despre ei? Mai sunt lucruri care pot aduce lumina asupra unui element sau altul? Cu siguranta! In aceasta sectiune va propunem dar, o incursiune in vietile lor.  Haideti sa discutam despre Botticelli, Da Vinci, Raffaello, Monet, Degas, Picasso, Van Gogh, Dali si multi altii.

Adaugam inca o poveste felicitarii,una plina de farmec, de atractie! Nu te sfii! Atunci cand daruiesti vorbeste despre artist si opera sa, despre gandurile lui, despre dorinte, intentii, pasiuni. O lume noua se va revarsa prin cuvintele tale, un nou inteles!

Stim ca atunci cand daruiesti vorbesti despre tine. Te vom ajuta sa vorbesti cat mai bine!

Decizia de a promova cultura si frumosul si prin astfel de modalitati, nu a fost una usoara, dar ne-o asumam si vom merge cu ea pana la capat. Credem ca este mai frumos sa daruim sau sa atasam unui cadou ceva de valoare, care sa ne reprezinte mai mult, care, de ce nu, sa vorbeasca de la sine despre noi si intentiile noastre.

Si pentru ca ne-am pozitionat pe acest segment, unde incercam sa imbinam arta si frumosul cu utilul si necesarul ne-am gandit sa nu ne oprim la simpla prezentare a unui produs. Sa facem un pas mai departe. Sa atasam produsului o poveste. Una frumoasa, fascinanta.

In arta sunt atatea elemente fermecatoare, care se ivesc doar in urma studiului. Sunt atatea povesti tesute in spatele tablourilor sau ale fotografiilor celebre, intamplari fara de care tabloul ar fi mai sarac, opera incompleta. Din pacate, intamplarile sunt adesea uitate, nestiute sau ingropate in praful istoriei.

In aceasta parte a blogului vrem sa aducem la iveala cate o poveste, cate o intamplare inedita, cate un fapt necunoscut dar fascinant. Unim produsul cu o intamplare si valoarea lui creste.

Fii liber ca atunci cand darui sa spui si povestea felicitarii. Surpriza este garantata. Farmecul asigurat. Fi la curent cu toate povestile vizitandu-ne regulat!

Daruind vorbesti despre tine! Fascineaza!

"All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable?"

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

[Conversation between DEATH and Susan Sto-Helit in Hogfather by Terry Pratchett]

I thoroughly enjoy the Discworld series. There's a little bit of everything in it. Metaphysics, philosophy, ethical conundrums (you can't have good fiction without ethical questions). By making satire on the real world through the use of a fantasy setting, Pratchett forces us to look in the mirror. Plus, it's just a great read.

I'd have to say that my favorite character is Death. I've often wondered why I like Death so. Maybe it's because this anthropomorhphic personification spends his li-- existence studying humanity. As he looks through the microscope, he can't help but become a little more like his subjects (because they tend to look up the scope and wave). On one hand, he has the naiveté of a child. On the other, he is the most cynical being on the Disc. Take his motto, There's no justice. There's just me.

His cynicism comes from the fact that he has been around longer than almost anything else in the universe (the Creator and Death of Universes are older). He's seen it all and lived to tell about it.

In the quote I started this essay with, Death is right on the money—humans need fantasy. It's an art which is part of what makes us human. People have this driving need to make representations of reality. Sculptures. Paintings. Sketches. Photographs. We make art because it is part of the human condition.

Within humanity there seems to be something that drives us to believe that the universe is more than a hodgepodge mix of molecules coming from an explosion. We look up into the sky and say there has to be something more—a reason for why. Most of us aren't satisfied with statements like “Things just happen.” We want things to make sense and aren't satisfied until they do. So to help them make sense, we write a story, a song, or make visual art.

People want order in the world. We want there to be a reason for everything. Cause and effect is an integral part of humanity. God created us special. We are lower than the angels but higher than the animals. At our best, humans are capable of the greatest acts of mercy and charity—acts which I imagine the angels look on agog that we physical creatures managed to come up with that. At our worst, we make the most base of animals look like Ms. Manners. Humans occupy a special niche in the cosmos. We form a crucible where the greatest and worst has the chance to come to the surface. We have our Stalins, Hitlers, Attila the Huns, and Mansons. But we also have our Reagans, Lincolns, Chrysostoms, Grahams, and Pauls.

We use art to make the unknowable parts of the world a little less mysterious. We write stories to explore how the world would be different if, say, Muhammad had become a Christian. Painters like Fra Angelico and Michaelangelo explained deep theological truths through their paintings. Who can help being moved Michaelangelo's Last Judgment? Especially when looking at those whose names were not found in the book? Especially thought provoking for me is this person . Like the pastor in the link above says:

"For me this is one of the most powerful images every produced. This man has just realized his fate. Could it be that he had fooled himself for years about how he was living? Notice the dread and despair. Notice too the demon that has him. The simple color coding may imply that the demon is really evil (dark, almost an olive color, like dead flesh). The man on the other hand is lighter than the demon and some of the other damned. Could it be that he was not the worst sinner? Just bad enough?"

If that is Michaelangelo's point, then it is a good one. The subject was a good man, perhaps he gave money to the poor. He was kind. But in the end, his name wasn't in the Book. Don't let this be you. Michaelangelo even paints himself into the painting as one of those waiting to hear his eternal verdict. How did one get a "not guilty" verdict from Christ the Judge in Michaelangelo's painting? Look at those in the top part of the painting. They cling to the Cross and to Christ (a column in medieval religious paintings often symbolizes Christ), and for that, they hear "Enter in to the joy of the Lord."

But art isn't all good. Art can be abused very easily. Michaelangelo painted nudes into the Last Judgment to portray a bodily resurrection where we stand with no secrets before Christ (clothes were added to them later). That isn't why certain magazines have the pictures they do. They do it for the base reaction of the customer. They portray women and men as sacks of meat good only for sexual gratification not as people in their own right. And the abuse of art doesn't end with pornography. What about those who pass off pictures of violent death as art? I knew a guy in college who collected such pictures. That was more than just creepy.

Best and the worst all rolled into one package. That's humanity for you. And along the way, we'll write a book or two, paint a fresco, and sculpt a few statues. Not because we can, but because we have to.

Il y a longtemps que ça ne m'était pas arrivé mais avant-hier j'ai fait un rêve bizarre. Je volais très haut dans le ciel [allez, soyez gentils, ne me tapotez pas tout de suite sur l'épaule pour me dire que je devrais peut-être consulter un psychiatre...] je disais donc que je volais très haut dans le ciel comme une hirondelle planant sur les courants d'air chauds et tout à coup, paf, un énorme trou dans l'aile droite : je tombais en vrille comme les avions japonais au-dessus de Pearl Harbour ou dans je ne sais plus quelle BD de Buck Danny ou de la collection Biggles où les avions se fracassent sur des porte-avions en explosant en d'énormes boules de feu. Je ne sais pas si vous l'avez vu à Florence, mais le trou était exactement comme sur l'aile de l'ange de l'Annonciation qui est au Musée San Marco. Ce trou bien découpé m'a toujours sidéré et je n'ai jamais bien compris ce qu'il signifiait, ni pourquoi Fra Angélico l'avait peint ainsi [je vous jure que ce n'est pas fait dans Photoshop]. Donc j'avais un trou identique dans l'aile droite et je tombais en vrille dans l'immensité du ciel. Mais ce qui était plutôt jouissif c'était que la chute n'en finissait pas : l'air était printanier, ça sentait bon la jacinthe, je planais doucement entre les galaxies et tombais dans le vide en tournoyant lentement dans la lumière éblouissante de la voie lactée ... Mais je ne m'écrasais pas, ce qui - par rapport à ma vie diurne où je m'écrabouille lamentablement comme un oeuf qui vous échappe des doigts et tombe sur le carrelage de la cuisine - était plutôt agréable. Surtout les étoiles : les étoiles qui tournaient à toute vitesse autour de moi en traçant de grandes orbes brillantes autour de mes bras écartés. C'était totalement hallucinant. Pourquoi est ce que je vous raconte ce rêve totalement perso ? Ah oui, parce que j'aimerais bien que quelqu'un de cultivé me dise enfin pourquoi Fra Angélico a peint ce trou sur l'aile de l'ange.

Éste beato, que por cierto no muchos conocen, y otros confunden con el licor homónimo, debe ser uno de los artistas que más difusión tiene en la época de Navidad, claro porque si se han dado el trabajo de mirar las portadas de las tarjetas que compran para enviar a sus seres queridos (herí alguna sensibilidad?...) o si les han llegado muchas tarjetas y se han dedicado a mirarlas, darán con pinturas de Fra Angelico.

De antemano aviso, que si no sabe que regalarme para una fecha especial, cualquier cuadro de este pintor será de mi agrado...

MODERN PHILOSOPHY - (Fr Santos) -- test on Hume.  -- I think I wrote the same answer for all 3 questions ... it's got to apply to at least one

ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY - (Fr Santos) -- start philosopher Epicurus with his Epicureanism & "hedonism" ... (Letter to Menoeceus) ... believe in gods ... everything is material ... death is, therefore, not something to be feared ... focus attention on life, the happy, pleasant, and pleasurable life.  -- It sound nice ... most people today live exactly this way ... even those in church. 

ARTS & IDEAS - (Fr Vallee) -- started Renaissance by comparing 2 painting of the Annunciation, by Sandro Botticelli & Fra Angelico.

MINISTERIAL METHODS - (Fr Michael) -- (part 3) Being Discerning ... level of judgement ... does my understanding correspond to what is true?  (Limo driver interviews 'round a hill)

(part 4) Being Responsible ... level of decision ... What should I do?

Tous les jours à la radio j'entends se reproduire la même histoire. On leur dit : "tu ne tueras pas", "tu ne te taperas pas la femme du copain", "tu ne voleras pas sa mobylette, "tu ne prendras pas le sens interdit avec ton Vélib'... etc - (il y en a douze comme ça dans le Décalogue) et, depuis la nuit des temps, ces crétins font exactement le contraire et mettent la planète à feu et à sang. Et quand il y a des montagnes de morts et des cadavres partout, ils pleurnichent devant les bains de sang et lèvent un index accusateur vers le ciel avec des trémolos dans la voix sur le mode "mais si Dieu est bon, comment a-t-il pu laisser faire le Mal ?" (avec un grand M naturellement). Comme si c'était Dieu qui avait tiré avec sa kalachnikov ! J'ai renoncé à comprendre et ai d'ailleurs décroché depuis longtemps : si je me rappelle bien, c’était c'était au moment où Dieu a dit : "touche pas à cet arbre !". Quand j'ai vu Eve bouffer la pomme, je crois bien que c'est là que je me suis dit : faut que je me tire vite fait parce que ces gens sont des malades mentaux et ils vont foutre la merde. Je ne me suis malheureusement pas tiré à temps. Mais j'avais raison : ils ont vraiment foutu la merde !
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Pour ceux qui ne savent pas, Cortona est ici, entre Siena et Perugia...
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Sur le même sujet

Florence, "ville des fleurs", des princes et des mystères. Jamais, je n'ai autant eu l'étrange sentiment de poser mes pas dans ceux d'illustres ambassadeurs de la cité toscane tels que Giotto, Brunelleschi, Masaccio, Donatello, Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Michel-Ange, ou encore (last but not least) Dante Alighieri.

Tout en cette ville suinte le génie artistique, l'émulation culturelle, le bouillonnement intellectuel. La cohue médiévale se déversant dans les venelles étroites et sombres a désormais, inexorablement, cédé la place au brouhaha émanant des artères modernes enflées de touristes. Pourtant, au détour d'une ruelle pavée, d'une antique masure, d'un palais Renaissance ou d'une église baroque, la lointaine réminiscence d'un glorieux passé vous interpelle, vous bouscule, vous saisit par les yeux et le coeur pour vous conter les lumières, les conspirations, les serments oubliés et la déchéance d'une époque à jamais révolue. La pierre "se transforme, renvoie des reflets variables sous la pluie, rayonne trempée d'eau pluviale sous l'éclaircie et s'assombrit quand la luminosité disparaît à cause de la brume, se hérisse comme la peau irritée sous le vent de tramontane et forme une masse obscure et solitaire sous la pleine lune".

Tout en cette ville se dispute la faveur de votre regard : du Duomo, flanqué de son campanile, au palais Pitti ; de la place de la Seigneurie au quartier Santa Croce ; de l'église San Lorenzo à l'église Santa Maria del Carmine ; de l'hôpital des Innocents aux jardins de Boboli ; du musée du Bargello à l'église Santo Spirito ; du couvent San Marco à la place Santa Maria Novella. "Sous certaines conditions atmosphériques et certaines orientations de la lumière, j'ai vu Florence comme une roche au-dessus de laquelle tournent le soleil et la lune".

Tout en cette ville vous pousse tour à tour au recueillement, à l'éblouissement, à la méditation, à la langueur, au plaisir de déambuler le nez en l'air sous l'oeil sévère ou attendri des statues de Michel-Ange, Jean de Bologne ou Benvenuto Cellini. "L'architecture florentine est toujours restée très proche de la matière brute encore fraîche de coupe, tout comme la peinture et la sculpture dans leurs figurations ne se sont pas éloignées de la vigueur rustique et grossière de l'humanité environnante". L'incessante agitation des places sillonnées sans relâche par des touristes harassés par tant de beauté accumulée, entassée, empilée ; contraste singulièrement avec la quiétude, au demeurant précaire, des rues transversales jalousement dérobées au regard des badauds.

Florence, déesse de la beauté occidentale, semble s'offrir aisément à tous ceux qui, tacitement ou inconsciemment, en nourriraient la demande en secret. Malheur à ceux qui tenteraient vainement d'en embrasser tous les charmes et les enchantements ! Ne murmure t-on pas, au creux d'une alcôve nichée dans la loggia d'un palais, que les plus inconscients, ou les plus innocents, d'entre eux se trouvèrent terrassés depuis plus d'un siècle par le syndrome de Stendhal ? "Ce que Florence transmet aux siens est comparable à une structure fondamentale, une grammaire de l'esprit et des sens, au point que son empreinte secrète est plus tenace que son empreinte visible".

Complément à l'article :

• Les passages en italique sont extraits du recueil Trames de Mario Luzi, publié en 1982, et présentés dans Le Goût de Florence (textes choisis et présentés par Pascale Lismonde, Mercure de France, 2003).

He finds himself looking at a painting of the Virgin Mary, maybe this one?

I quote Fujimura:

I entered the halls and the golden aura of a diminutive Virgin Mary painting greeted me, with her azurite robe, and the Christ child’s supple body, reflecting her humanity -- a simple work full of weighty colors. Then I had to close my eyes, after a few seconds of pondering the saturated surface. I realized this was too much to behold, all at once. As I staggered about looking for a blank wall to stare at, almost feeling ashamed to be in the presence of such greatness, I had a “500 year” question pop up in my mind.

What is the five hundred year question? Well, it’s a historical look at the reality of our cultures, and asking what ideas, what art, what vision affects humanity for over five hundred years. It’s the opposite of the Warholian “15 seconds of fame.”

I love the part where he says he staggered around looking for a blank wall to stare at. But that's beside the point, point being the 500 year question. My gosh, we live in an instant, constantly changing world. We can't even tolerate television if it's not changing the image every few seconds - meaning that some artist may have spent hours or days so you could see his/her work for a brief moment of time. And I'm contemplating making art that will affect humanity for over 5oo years. Hmmm.

A friend commented the other day that he liked new music. I do too. Oh, I like turning to 97.1 for classic rock, but I won't buy it. I want what's new. I want what's fresh.

But I want this, too. It's Mozart:

Now that's some music that is still going strong after a few hundred years.

I know lot's of people who write music. And I'm sure they'd all love to write something that people are still listening to in 500 years. And even more importantly, that is affecting people's lives in 500 years. But in our frenzied lives, even the artists are rushed. Another friend who has two cd's out of his music, is so not about his first cd. "No, listen to the latest one." (Some of the songs on the first one affect me still.) We want the latest ideas, newest books, and the art that's 'hot off the press'. Even in our Sunday morning worship, we will have to keep the 'new' coming so people don't get bored. But I'm a little sad that we don't slow down and try to create something that will really last. Really really last.

But maybe there's another way to look at the 500 year question, because I'll tell you this, you won't be looking at any of MY art in 500 years - or any of my songs, either. The other way to look at this is to consider the impact you can make on another person by getting into their life and introducing them to Jesus, encouraging them to serve the king of kings, maybe teaching them to listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit so that they will have his presence with them forever, and will change other people's lives with the empowering presence of God.

I talked to a man yesterday who works with a kind of Kids mentoring program. They organize mentoring relationships between adults and children 4 to 18 who have parents who are incarcerated. He told me of a friend who works in some of our prisons, and of the prevalence of fathers, sons and grandsons incarcerated together in the same prison. In one facility, a mother and daughter shared the same cell. That breaks my heart (even though I'd rather share a cell with one of my kids than not!). This organization is working diligently to break that tragic cycle.

What a lasting impact we can make in people's lives. I think of how intentional we must be, how deliberate, to get into people's lives, and do what we can to introduce them to the one person who transforms, and blesses to 1000 generations. We can all have a part in that. Looks to me like a 1000 generations ought to last a whole lot longer than 500 years.

L'Annonciation en entier.

En y réfléchissant, je me rends compte qu'il n'y a pas que ces trois choses qui me calment. Il faut que j'ajoute les hirondelles dans les ciels d'été, les cloches en italie, l'Aria des Goldberg, la lumière des petits matins d'été, la couleur des champs de blé dans la lumière du soir et ... bon il va falloir que je fasse une liste exhaustive. J'avais commencé la liste de petits bonheurs mais il faut que je la complète sérieusement.

Wer wenn ich schriee...

A l'écart de l'immense tournoiement de plumes, emmitouflé dans une grande écharpe aux couleurs de l'aube, un petit ange était assis sur un imperceptibe rayon d'éternité. Songeur, les yeux perdu sur la courbure de l'univers, il accompagnait de son tambour la musique des sphères, pure et douce comme un filet d'orgue s'élevant dans le silence argenté du cosmos.

A son oreille gauche, pendait l'étoile qui manquait au grand Inventaire : petite boucle d'oreille corail qu'il avait volée la veille dans la constellation du Crabe....".

(Ange de Fra Angelico)

Quelques étoiles...