WRITING



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Writings from "Words/Images (2006- )"

@MMXXI SERGIO CALDERÓN, All Rights Reserved





The ability to analyse impressions (phantasia) - without this ability? Nothing 'The ability to pay proper attention' (Marcus Aurelius) - how can I learn this? By asking myself 'What's in your mind?' - With that Marcus Aurelius would train me to be a priest and minister of gods And (Marcus Aurelius): 'No more wandering. You are not likely to read your own jottings, your histories of the ancient Greeks and Romans, your extracts from their literature laid up for your old age. Hurry then to the end, abandon vain hopes, rescue yourself, while the opportunity is still there' (as if he was speaking to me)


London, 17 December 2019







The wing on the door
Apples on the tables
Those are a lot of chairs for one man


Chaville, France, 28 October 2018






Nobody. Nothing around. Pitch black. The sound of the wind on the branches. I am empty. No appetite. No desire. No past. No future. Then, suddenly I find myself, or something inside myself that's only me (mine). Perhaps, it's the fact that I am noticing the changes in the wind. The sound of the branches. Playing for me, like scales in an instrument


Chaville, France, 29 October 2018






The Bench


We were walking in broken glass
Your breasts, or was the neck?
An overture of impossible numbers

It was a terrible heat, and smog
'You are an optimistic', you said
The weight of your printed words coming from you
Silence was impossible

Confused, my back was bruised
The tide was strong
Trampled to death

The seashore, Early spring, not a soul
(Failure covered my scars)

Your legs sang songs long forgotten
There was a movie playing in your vinyl skirt
Your distance
The smell of your tears
Towards your sorrow
A melody of static presence

You told me, 'a foil covers your bruises'
Summer wasn't your season


London, Winter 2017






Somewhat Farther Down


I.

We hid in the little house
By the beach
In winter, wine and electric fire

II.

Horizons are illusions
Clouds of breath
Half an eternity, already


London, 5 December 2017






Complete sense of structure at reading Anselm Kiefer. The unity of his journal entries. (In my journal, instead...). Structure, something I try to avoid, as if in order to achieve that unity that completeness I had to make a choice. But does structure come out of choice? Wasn't trying to avoid making a choice by rejecting structure? Is this rejection of structure in the end 'something' that arises from my inability to create a structure? My inability to make choices? But what if, after the choice, the structure doesn't come either? Can the sense of unity exist in 'something' fragmented? If so, does the narrative have to be complete, to show how fragmented is that 'something'?

Purpose creates new problems

A 'provisional' structure

There's no end to this problem No end in sight It will end, eventually I just don't know when More specifically: how?

Then, I need to create a provisional structure, an illusion (delusion), a structure 'for now', as a question to solve


London, 11 March 2019






She walks along with a plan
Flirting with getting lost


London, 15 March 2020






MATERIALITY


Searching for the material. She is playing guitar in the room. The reverb walking around the house. Surrounded by her endless guitar solo I can't touch. I can't touch it but I can feel it. It's material.

The danger of embracing 'something' unmaterial (an image that reproduces an object, for instance) as something material.


London, 14 March 2019






'He who catches sight of something precious is, in the same moment, already in the lookout for the next precious thing'

— Paracelsus


Tokyo, 16 November 2018






And who said that? Everything in order to save the body, nothing for the salvation of the soul - and then, the soul is the only thing that make us human


London, 4 February 2020






Curtains


The lame curtains that let in the morning light, the light of having time, and now the light of reading

The curtains no longer let me see the images, only their silhouettes, their contours, their shapes (learn to see with curtains - and, with the curtains, the shapes appeared)

The eternal plural of ‘the curtains’

The curtains, like a dimmer of light (right on time the refrigerator hammering with provocation)

And when am I outside? You have to become the curtains, your eyes must learn to 'grow' curtains

The curtains cushion the images, and I turn them into shapes and now I can see that light


London, 18 February 2020






A Tridimensional Entrance to Silence


Entrance (an entrance)
A box (an entrance)
(As if)
The important thing would be entering
No matter how
No matter where

But this entrance only allows you to go outside. To leave. To enter an unknown open space


London, 1 January 2019






On Orientation


You cannot find your place on the internet (an abstract space). There is no North, nor East (etc.). There is no direction or consciousness of its limits. No beginning, no end. We go 'a la deriva' (adrift), with no real destination. We are lost. But yet, how can we get lost if we didn't depart?

Each song goes through its own gestation process. Like sons, they depart. One wants to be an architect, the other one enrolls on a boat and sails the seven seas. Each song is a journey in itself (a departure?)

For Nietzche, the worth of something is measured according to what contributes to the increase of the reality of what exists. Art is worth more than truth. Art is more genuine, existing of all beings, as the fundamental event in the totality of being


London, 29 March 2019






The conquest of reason
Has left us ruling the desert


London, 4 September 2020






© MMXXI, SERGIO CALDERÓN, All Rights Reserved