Thursday, February 18, 2010

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invisible to La Gioconda

is true that La Gioconda is the most watched woman in the world, but also that more people have looked. When one is in front of her, can not avoid encountering the mysterious gaze intently watching us. In addition, his half smile seems to show a gesture somewhat ironic and elegant, though a dentist has said it is not half-smile, but he had some dental defect or, out of jealousy of her husband, named Giocondo, it would have taken some serious blows. The smile is already an icon element belonging to the collective imagination. For example, an affirmation of Lawrence Durrell contradict the opinion of the dentist: the smile of the Mona Lisa, also known as the Mona Lisa, is that she just devour her husband
The look in his eyes penetrating the depths of our spirit and suddenly, the familiar feel, as if always knew. In this game looks, it deepens and thus is given the irony, we do not know if it goes against the viewer or accompanying. Watch others like quiet biking, discovering faces to enter different states of mind. No matter what the others are those who cross in front of the bike, because for the Mona Lisa is a fun read the gestures of people arriving from any point on Earth for her to look, although tourists assume that they are the the look
Because of this, I liked to give the title to one of my books of short stories La Gioconda by bicycle. Like The Mona Lisa behind glass, the book is devoted to looking at your environment, on any continent, and to share their thoughts and creative acts with readers. I was guided by a French idea of \u200b\u200bMichel de Montaigne who, when writing your tests, it was proposed to talk about himself and his environment, often as he put it, wrote their texts with ideas of others. It was not just taking the ideas, but together, compare and contrast it, what is proper to try and create. When one is writing, an aesthetic idea connects to another and this with the following to generate a set of mirrors or communicating vessels. It is as if the Mona Lisa looking through the spectacles invisible.
thinking is giving money as the double loop of the bike, makes a journey through the world of ideas and reach a point where the road building process stops. I say double loop because, seen from afar, resembles a bicycle glasses that we see in the distance and its rays resemble the iris of the eye. On the bike is a woman perhaps the most beautiful in Florence these days, is calmly, smiling, wide awake and putting things to the mystery of his eyes.
early twentieth century, La Gioconda became a symbol of the great art. Although at the beginning of the sixteenth century, Leonardo da Vinci legally sold to the French king, François I, without the box had more far-reaching to be the work of Da Vinci, like many who sold to various European courts or their own, Italian. Four centuries after that sale, in 1911, the Italian painter Vincenzo Perugia under the slogan kidnaps her to return to Italy, the scandal becomes global. A day is in a Florentine restaurant police and rescue. Agree Italy and France and returned to the Louvre Museum, home for centuries. This means that in 2001 was fulfilled the 90th anniversary of her abduction.
Later, in 1963 and then in 1974, La Monalisa travels to Latin America, and because of the massive customs of that country, La Gioconda causes crowds around him, thus becomes the most famous diva of Hollywood, popularity has been maintained and increased to this new century, the twenty-first century, but also to the galactic level, it is assumed, for undercover investigations, which the aliens have registered and have been reported in several galaxies.
These sporadic trip to the United States, forced or free, increasing its capacity for observation. Between 2003 and 2009, this beautiful and enigmatic woman will be five centuries of watching the transit of some twenty generations of onlookers. This makes women more experienced of the Milky Way. Quiet walks on his bicycle, pedaling past centuries pass through calm and his eyes will remain the most mysterious horizon of the visual arts. His wry smile accompany our grandchildren, great grandchildren and great grandchildren. The serenity with which he observes the world will continue undisturbed. It has already had to endure the strange looks and straight from the Japanese, there are no major differences with European girls who have been in the restaurant or a cafe, but for clothes. Monalisa would wish an almond-eyed, lying on a couch, showing a leg from the knee out of the kimono, a horizontal gaze and submissive and, of course, not half-smile and call it The Nikonda or Mona Liska. O wife of a high-ranking samurai object Nikonda infidelity, beheaded in the square-Kai Chen the bigamist and the painter Da-Vinky, beautiful oriental XVI century legend, crowned with the harakiri of Samuari Nikondo named.
making this game with an oriental look may only add one more game on the hundreds of thousands who have been around other female icon painters, designers, Paper comedians, writers, etc., without missing Andy Warhol, have done. Right now you will not miss the reader is already thinking, perhaps, in an Arab Gioconda. But the most interesting of this woman is moving to much reflection and many plastic versions or written without being, strictly speaking, a vamp or anything that looks like a lady erotica. In this sense, the maids can become a figure of worship, but not, I think the Mona Lisa will not end in a chapel, as has happened to Marilyn Monroe, or Freddy Mercury, as long as the discussion of his good or bad reputation.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

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Bermejo From my window

haughty look to the horizon fog. Dig into the waves of the river sad. It opalescent arbola castanets. Pose your figure, go into the light. Horse
sun and crimson feathers cedar dealings with the trot, poppy body arabesques of assuaging verdemontaña. Ebony music vibrates in their helmets to chess this afternoon at parties passing brown, russet galloping horse on the generous amounts in the secret silence of the mare in love.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

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horse oval

From the dust of emerging on the horses, brushing their manes lamosas. True that smoke going through, and last fog rises from the desert of forgetfulness. So
I have interviewed in the longing, when the dairy milk served my grandmother from metal cans, while the horse looked huge fender cars of the fifties. But perhaps it is an ancient affliction that pushes me before the horse, emerging from the dream, about to head out on the whirlwind, galloping, firm, nameless, rounded, without haste, as if their helmets were a certainty skipped stones in the road where it passes, its fate in the absence of riders. Perhaps
foals are educated beyond the smoke, without hesitation or whinnying, a silent gallop like a Discovery Channel documentary, no music, no announcer, no Discovery Channel, discrete somewhat elongated figure, sensing the impatience, the dream that dream, but worthy. The mane historical prim by the wind, to meet a mysterious air, storm winds that burrow in order to make way loner who hardly slammed open their legs sweaty. Perhaps that is why
territories are left behind I hide. Do they come from people of magic, ritual, divination, random, it wrapped, or are only signs of the hidden? Perhaps this explains that half their body becomes more hiding, as if galloping, prancing, to my desire and my guesses, my ridiculous embarrassment. The fact is that, in my oval window of my tower, I can only see the moment of passing to fog my territory, but detained as wooden horses. May never come my gentleman. From here you can not tell their race or their heads screened by dust. Maybe if I lie in bed and sleep with them, I get the wall of the whirlwind of these centuries.