StandingAtTheFence

30’s, filmmaker Don’t devalue one’s creative work without credit and proper care. Allow the archives to be a continuous reminder of the originality that persisted in times of turbulence.

[toiich]

The Green, Green Grass of Home (1982), dir. Hou Hsiao-Hsien

[majestativa]

An ancient heavenly [...] hypnotic trance.

MIA BARKAN CLARKE — Tea with Nana: Paintings & Poems, (2009)

[petaltexturedskies]

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anais Nin Vol. II: 1934-1939

[phylogeny]

"But this is my own maze, she told herself, this is the maze I grew up in; I could not be a prisoner here; I know the way so perfectly, and she turned and was further lost."

— Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

[sacredwhores]

Lino Brocka - Bona (1980)

[edwordsmyth]

Kim Ghattas

[acertainknot]

[A]ny pain caused by unhappy experiences, whatever their nature, has something in common with mourning. It reactivates the infantile depressive position; the encountering and overcoming of adversity of any kind entails mental work similar to mourning.

Klein, M. [1940] (1977) ‘Mourning and its Relation to Manic-Depressive States’, in Klein, M. (ed.) Love, Guilt and Reparation & Other Works, 1921–1945. New York: Dell Publishing. p. 360.

[kaos-teorema]

anatomie de l'enfer (catherine breillat, 2004)

[shihab-alen]

“Modesty does not mean thinking of yourself as tiny or small. Modesty here means feeling true and genuine. Therefore the warrior feels self-contained, with no need for external reference points to confirm him. Part of modesty is an underlying brilliance, being self-contained but shining out. The warrior’s awareness shines out with tremendous inquisitiveness, a keen interest in everything around him. You begin to see things as natural messages, rather than as reference points for your existence. The difference between ordinary inquisitiveness and that of the warrior’s path of meek is that the warrior’s awareness is always joined with discipline. Therefore you don’t miss anything; you see every detail. Such disciplined awareness is clearing the ground in such a way that the universe begins to become part of your vision.”

— Chögyam Trungpa, Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior

[feral-ballad]

“Am I free? There is some thing still holding me. Or am I holding it?”

— Clarice Lispector, tr. by Stefan Tobler, from Água Viva

[toiich]

Agnès Varda

[randombeautysls]

dance theater of harlem, circa 1970.

[garadinervi]

Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye, Holt Rinehart Winston, New York, NY, 1970 [Between the Covers, Gloucester City, NJ]

[philosophybits]

“I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicable, to tell about something I have in my bones, something which can be expressed only in the bones.”

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

[sacredwhores]

Frederick Wiseman - Juvenile Court (1973)

[garadinervi]

June Jordan, Passion. New Poems, 1977-1980, Beacon Press, Boston, MA, 1980

[theoptia]

Nikos Kazantzakis, from The Saviors of God

Text ID: I am not good, I am not innocent, I am not serene. My happiness and unhappiness are both unbearable; I am full of inarticulate voices and darknesses; I wallow, all blood and tears, in this warm trough of my flesh. I am afraid to talk. I adorn myself with false wings; I shout, I sing and I weep to drown out the inexorable cry of my heart. I am not the light, I am the night; but a flame stabs through my entrails and consumes me. I am the night devoured by light.