1=2
|
This morning
As I was walking down the street I imagined that you were walking towards me Keep reading... |
Dear Emily Dickinson
|
Dear Emily Dickinson –
Keep reading... |
Funny
|
IN WHICH WE REALIZE WE CHOSE THIS
|
Even though I only live an hour away from my family, I hadn’t seen them in eight months. The pandemic was to blame, of course, but even at the best of times I would only go see them every few months. There is that no public transport goes to Lacolle. More importantly, there is that I have really bad FOMO. I saw about 300 artists in concert last year. But COVID cured me of that. Now I can be in Lacolle without thinking about all the things I’m missing because there is no longer anything to miss. The pandemic has taken with it all of the advantages of living in the city and left only its inconveniences: too many people everywhere and too little of anything else anywhere.
Keep reading... |
UTOPIA #8: THE WOMAN WHO GOT FLOWERS IN THE MORNING
|
Once, when she was young, she came to the conclusion that flowers were the best gift one could possibly receive. They were beautiful and useless. They were ephemeral. Giving someone flowers, she thought, was like saying “There are no words. There is nothing. Therefore, I must resort to the most useless gesture.” It was then that she decided that, when she would be older, she would get fresh flowers every morning and put them in the lobby of her home, in the living room, in the kitchen, in her bedroom, wherever she pleased.
She was older now. Keep reading... |
Apologie du film minable : fragments
|
Le cinéma est le «bizarro» du monde de l’art, le médium commercial. Si «le médium est le message,» le message du cinéma est «je suis dispendieux,» de sorte que c’est souvent l’argent qui y est mis de l’avant (qu’on parle de film à petit ou à gros budget, ou encore de succès ou d’échec au box-office), relayant l’art à l’arrière-plan. Le cinéma se nivelle donc constamment vers le bas à la recherche d’un public potentiel. Ici, je ne parle pas d’élitisme. Ce n’est pas le public qui tue l’art mais bien la possibilité d’un public; c’est-à-dire que l’art commence à mourir du moment que l’artiste croit que s’il fait certains choix plutôt que d’autres, il pourrait ainsi trouver un public.
Keep reading... |