m

loading

Momentum Journal is generously supported by Marsèlleria ❤

Momentum Journal è sostenuto generosamente da Marsèlleria ❤

Generously supported by Marsèlleria ❤

Sostenuto generosamente da Marsèlleria ❤

Focus

 ←

momentum
journal

0

0

share this content

condividi questo contenuto

This digital sea is responsive to the touch.
Click/tap on the blue.
Questo mare digitale risponde al tuo tocco.
Clicca nel blu.

1

1

share this content

condividi questo contenuto



2

2

share this content

condividi questo contenuto

Click on the fleurons
to see andorgine paintings.
Clicca/tocca gli ornamenti
per vedere dipinti androgini.

“We should resist the tyranny of linear time for one which is much more elusive, labyrinthian, gracious and once understood, perhaps even kindly. Once we recognise that it can fold in on itself – wherein, for example, recent events can seem distant and more distant ones seems closer – we then have a greater fluidity of means.”

M.C.C.

 

“Several pieces of the body or its appendages are outlined without any blurring, and remain reproduced with the fidelity of an anatomical drawing: one of the antennae, two curved mandibles, the head and the first joint, half of the second, three large legs. Then come the other parts, less precise: sections of legs and the partial form of a body convulsed into a question mark.”

A.R.G.

 

“So much I gazed upon beauty,
my vision is alive with it.
Contours of the body. Red lips.
Voluptuous limbs.
Hair as if taken from greek statues;
always beautiful, even when uncombed,
and it falls, slightly, over foreheads.
Faces of love, as my poetry
wanted them…in the nights of my youth,
in my nights, secretly, met…”

C.P.C.

 

“He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds; he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together.”

V.W.

 

“The water calmed him. He would float on its surface, with only his wet face breaking its humid skin. For as long as he could, he would stare at the sky, the azure surface, the statuary clouds, the oppressive sun. This is what nature was for the man: an unambiguous, distinct phenomenon, which would lazily rest in front of his playful gaze.”

A.

 

“A little while ago I wrote that though I shall die, nothing else will. And I must make my meaning clear. Wonder at the sight of a cornfield, at a rock, at the touch of a rough hand – all the millions of emotions of which I'm made – they won't disappear even though I shall. Other men will experience them, and they'll still be there because of them. More and more I believe I exist in order to be the terrain and proof which show other men that life consists in the uninterrupted emotions flowing through all creation. The happiness my hand knows in a boy's hair will be known by another hand, is already known. And although I shall die, that happiness will live on. ‘I’ may die, but what made that ‘I’ possible, what made possible the joy of being, will make the joy of being live on without me.”

J.G.

 

“If you catch him,
hold up a flashlight to his eye. It’s all dark pupil,
an entire night itself, whose haired horizon tightens
as he stares back, and closes up the eye. Then from the lids
one tear, his only possession, like the bee’s sting, slips.
Slyly he palms it, and if you’re not paying attention
he’ll swallow it. However, if you watch, he’ll hand it over,
cool as from underground springs and pure enough to drink.”

E.B.

“We should resist the tyranny of linear time for one which is much more elusive, labyrinthian, gracious and once understood, perhaps even kindly. Once we recognise that it can fold in on itself – wherein, for example, recent events can seem distant and more distant ones seems closer – we then have a greater fluidity of means.”

M.C.C.

 

“Several pieces of the body or its appendages are outlined without any blurring, and remain reproduced with the fidelity of an anatomical drawing: one of the antennae, two curved mandibles, the head and the first joint, half of the second, three large legs. Then come the other parts, less precise: sections of legs and the partial form of a body convulsed into a question mark.”

A.R.G.

 

“So much I gazed upon beauty,
my vision is alive with it.
Contours of the body. Red lips.
Voluptuous limbs.
Hair as if taken from greek statues;
always beautiful, even when uncombed,
and it falls, slightly, over foreheads.
Faces of love, as my poetry
wanted them…in the nights of my youth,
in my nights, secretly, met…”

C.P.C.

 

“He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds; he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together.”

V.W.

 

“The water calmed him. He would float on its surface, with only his wet face breaking its humid skin. For as long as he could, he would stare at the sky, the azure surface, the statuary clouds, the oppressive sun. This is what nature was for the man: an unambiguous, distinct phenomenon, which would lazily rest in front of his playful gaze.”

A.

 

“A little while ago I wrote that though I shall die, nothing else will. And I must make my meaning clear. Wonder at the sight of a cornfield, at a rock, at the touch of a rough hand – all the millions of emotions of which I'm made – they won't disappear even though I shall. Other men will experience them, and they'll still be there because of them. More and more I believe I exist in order to be the terrain and proof which show other men that life consists in the uninterrupted emotions flowing through all creation. The happiness my hand knows in a boy's hair will be known by another hand, is already known. And although I shall die, that happiness will live on. ‘I’ may die, but what made that ‘I’ possible, what made possible the joy of being, will make the joy of being live on without me.”

J.G.

 

“If you catch him,
hold up a flashlight to his eye. It’s all dark pupil,
an entire night itself, whose haired horizon tightens
as he stares back, and closes up the eye. Then from the lids
one tear, his only possession, like the bee’s sting, slips.
Slyly he palms it, and if you’re not paying attention
he’ll swallow it. However, if you watch, he’ll hand it over,
cool as from underground springs and pure enough to drink.”

E.B.

3

3

share this content

condividi questo contenuto

Click here,
reveal more
Clicca qui,
rivela di più

4

4

share this content

condividi questo contenuto

  • Drink like a Trojan.
    Curse like a fish.
    Work like a chimney.
    Smoke like a sailor.

    (Steve Piccolo)

  • DENSE CLOUDS, NO RAIN FROM OUR WESTERN REGIONS.

  • BLESS
    French Canadian HOCKEY PLAYERS
    for keeping art on ice
    for our one contribution to
    INTERNATIONAL CULTURE

    (Marshall McLuhan)

  • p. 45. Ebbrezza distruttiva di una scimmia cappuccina. Da un’osservazione di G.J. Romanes, citata da K. Groos:

    “Osservo che gli piace moltissimo combinare disastri. Oggi, si è impadronito di un bicchiere di vino e di un portauovo. Il bicchiere, l’ha scagliato a terra con tutta la sua forza e, naturalmente, l’ha rotto. Essendosi quindi reso conto che non avrebbe potuto rompere il portauovo allo stesso modo, ha cercato intorno a sé qualcosa di duro contro cui poterlo sbattere. Il piede del letto in ottone gli parve atto all’uopo: brandì il portauovo reggendolo alto sopra la testa e lo abbatté violentemente contro il piede del letto. Dopo averlo completamente polverizzato, si ritenne soddisfatto. Per spezzare un bastone, lo introduce fra un oggetto pesante e il muro, quindi lo curva e lo spacca. Spesso, distrugge qualche indumento tirando scrupolosamente i fili del tessuto prima di mettersi a strappare il tutto con i denti il più freneticamente possibile.

  • TEORIA ALLARGATA DEI GIOCHI

  • NELLE STAMPE DI UTOMARO IL BARICENTRO DELL’INSIEME È SITUATO IN UNA SINGOLA MANO.

  • ART IS A GAME BETWEEN PEOPLE AND ALL PERIODS.

    (Marcel Duchamp)

5

5

share this content

condividi questo contenuto

Spin the wheel.
Choose the entry.
Gira la ruota.
Scegli la voce che preferisci.