mardi, novembre 27, 2012

My brother Julien said that we (he, Florence and I) made 3 different trips in Israël the last year, while traveling together. His travel was political; his best moment happened when we got lost in a Palestinian area in Jerusalem (Al Azariah, village of Lazarus, Martha & Maria), our road being cut by the wall. Florence's one was an artist travel with pen and notebook. Mine was a pilgrimage. I wanted to see what Christ saw and feel the influence between landscape & faith.

The gospels doesn't talk a lot about Nazareth, the city where Christ lived about 30 years: a very steep town where walking is tiring; so what about working as a carpenter/builder B.C. (before cars)? From the top of Nazareth, you see the Mediterranean see on the west; the Horeb and the mounts of Liban on the north; the Jordan desert on the West; on the south you see the mount in range that leads to Jerusalem: a panoramic view that includes the past and the future. There is nothing written about the contrast between the visually rude Nazareth and the incredible softness of lake Kinnereth, where Christ went to make his first disciples and live with them. Christ's debut is a movement from a certain harshness of the landscape to a very subtile and delicate one. It's also there that he meets the disciples after the resurrection: “Meet Me in Galilee”. Not in the desert or in the steep slopes of Nazareth; on the shore of lake Kinnereth, where life is sweet.

dimanche, novembre 25, 2012

The first time I went to the poetry festival in Breszkov back in 1991, we had a very good program that I enjoyed a lot, despite the many language difficulties. Someone drunk in the audience yelled, during Gregori Volodine's reading, that « all poets are wimps & fags ». That evening, poets ended the day in an arm westling contest... 20 years later, I returned to the festival where all the greatest poets of the region were gathered. Everything had changed. Poets did not arm wrestling anymore; the difficulty move up a rung. Volodine was still the best.

jeudi, novembre 22, 2012

Erik Satie was coming back home by walk after playing the piano at Auberge du Clou (30 avenue Trudaine). It was a long walk since he was living in Arcueil in the southern suburbs. Google maps says that Auberge du Clou, Paris to his house (34 Rue Cauchy, Arcueil) is 9,5 km, a 2 hours 3 min walk. If you have time, I recommand this google walk* from his house to Montmartre. Then if you come to Paris, you can do the return in real. Les grands artistes sont de grands marcheurs: Werner Herzog tells his student at the Rogue Film School that if they want to become great filmmakers, they have to make at least a 5000 km walk. The also need to shut down the screen and read, read, read. Erik Satie would be happy today because the horrible scar of the A6B highway next to his house has been covered.

* If you prefer to walk in mother N, I recommand Forêt de l'Avant-Garde in the Lorraine region.