Saturday, April 25, 2009

Use The All Clad Fondue Pot On The Stove?

BORGES AND THE AESTHETIC

With the aim of clarifying some obscure points:

>> romantic doctrine of a muse who inspires the poets was the one who professed the classics, the doctrine classic poem as an intelligence operation was enunciated by a romantic, Poe, around 1846. The fact is paradoxical. Out of some dream-inspired dream of Pastor referring Beda, the famous dream of Coleridge - it is clear that both doctrines are partially true, except that respond to different stages of the process. (By Musa we understand what Milton called the Jews and spirit and sad that our mythology calls the subconscious).



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far as I'm concerned, the process is more or less unchanged. I begin by spotting a way, a sort of remote island, which will be followed by a story or a poem. I see the end and see the beginning, not what is between the two. This gradually is revealed to me when the stars or chance are favorable. More than once I have to retrace the path of the shadow zone. I try to intervene as little as possible in the evolution of the work. I do not want twisted my views, which, undoubtedly, are insignificant. The concept of committed art is naive, because nobody knows quite what it runs. One writer admitted Kipling, can conceive a fable, but not penetrate its moral. Must be loyal to his imagination, and not mere ephemeral circumstances of an alleged "reality."

[...] After so many years and too many-year tenure of literature, aesthetics do not profess. Why add to the natural limits imposed on us a habit of either theory? Theories, beliefs and political or religious, are nothing more than stimuli. Vary for each writer. Whitman was right to deny the rhyme, that denial would have been stupid in the case of Hugo.
Walking through the evidence in this book *, I note with some displeasure that blindness plays a mournful that has in my life. The color blindness is a closure, but also a liberation, a solitude conducive to inveciones, a key and algebra.



* Excerpts from the Foreword "poetry, 3." Jorge Luis Borges.






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