Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Watching you. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Watching you. Mostrar todas as mensagens
26 julho 2013
15 fevereiro 2013
02 abril 2012
01 janeiro 2012
15 setembro 2011
15 julho 2010
Watching again
Le sang d'un poète, Jean Cocteau,1930
O Passado e o Presente, Manoel de Oliveira, 1971
26 maio 2010
08 março 2010
23 dezembro 2009
22 outubro 2009
Auto-retrato, 01 setembro 2009
19 junho 2009
25 março 2009
03 fevereiro 2009
19 janeiro 2009
13 janeiro 2009
07 janeiro 2009
19 novembro 2008
(Watch)ing you
Just at that moment I passed the shop of a watchmaker-optometrist, whose sign had always been a large clock that gave the exact time. Under this clock hung a picture of a pair of giant eyeglasses with staring eyes. On my morning walks I had always smiled to myself at this slightly grotesque detail in the street scene. To my amazement, the hands of the clock had disappeared. The dial was blank, and below it someone had smashed both of the eyes so that they looked like watery, infected sores. Instinctively I pulled out my own watch to check the time, but I found that my old reliable gold timepiece had also lost its hands. I held it to my ear to find out if it was still ticking. Then I heard my heart beat. It was pounding very fast and irregularly. I was overwhelmed by an inexplicable feeling of frenzy. I put my watch away and leaned for a few moments against the wall of a building until the feeling had passed. My heart calmed down and I decided to return home.
(...)MARIANNE: Did you sleep well?
ISAK: Yes, but I dreamed. Can you imagine—the last few months I've had the most peculiar dreams. It's really odd.
MARIANNE: What's odd?
ISAK: It's as if I'm trying to say something to myself which I don't want to hear when I'm awake.
MARIANNE: And what would that be?
ISAK: That I'm dead, although I live.
Ingmar Bergman, Morangos Silvestres, Suécia,1957
16 abril 2008
31 julho 2007
Watching you
Vision V, 1999
Imprint, 2001I am interested in what lies beneath the surface of the skin. It is not the physical structures that concern me – ligaments, organs, bones. Rather it is the emotions and experiences that are imprinted on our bodies – the places we travel, the music we listen to, the letters we read and write. Our past informs our cells.
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