4/4 venice lagoon view seen by the lido on late spring 2007 (the prayer of the photograph)

i know that a picture is a picture

but i follow susan sontag that

said we take picture because are nostalgic

hence the collected pictures taken ten years ago

lost and found in my photographic archives

maybe in ten years ago i will be

nostalgic of the pictures taken today

but who will see them ?

sometime it a stop in memories

and memories become still

underground

amen

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i ask to you dear aficionados, please do not divulgate thi(e)s(e) picture(s) outside the experienceofthinking

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Wednesday May 24 2017


bianca jagger in the garden at reddish (cecil beaton)

Venice 1 September 1973

Unexpectedly found myself here after an interval of at least 5 years, and there were moments of beauty at sunset and later by artificial light, with the dome of San Salute lit in a greenish brillance, reflected in the morning water of the current, which alone justified the visit. Venice is a place that has played an extraordinary important in my life, and once more memories of forgotten events and people flooded back, and as with he last visit, the effects appeared differently. There is never a monotony in the most evanescent and ever changing masterpiece.

It was interesting to see the influx of the new stars. andy Warhol in a silk dinner jacket, Bianca Jagger with a swagger stick, Helmut Berger, very German and Marlene Dietrich-esque, his hair dyed yellow, and the latest girlfriend of David Rothschild.

The others went off to Venice to watch the Regatta (I, arriving in late evening, saw the best, the return of the boats, in the apricot Canaletto light) and I had the day to myself. it was like a purge.

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(the cecil beaton diaries, 2003 phoenix)

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Sunday May 14 2017


the tops of mountains are among the unfinished parts of the globe ( henry david thoreau )

It reminded me of the creations of the old epic and dramatic poets, of Atlas, Vulcan, the Cyclops, and Prometheus. Such was Caucasus and the rock where Prometheus was bound. Aeschylus had no dubt visited such scenery as this. It was, Titanic, and such as man never inhabits.

 

Some part of the beholder, even some vital part, seems to escape through the loose grating of his ribs as he ascends. He is more lone than you can imagine. there is less of substantial thought and fair understanding in him than in the plains where men inhabit. His reason is despersed and shadowy, more thin and subtile, like the air. Vast, Titanic, inhuman Nature has got him at disadvantage, caught him alone, and pilfers him of some of his divine faculty.

 

She does not smile on him as in the plains. She seems to say sternly, why came ye here before your time? This ground is not prepared for you. Is it not enough that I smile in the valleys? I have never made this soil for thy feet, this air for thy breathing, these rocks for thy neighbors. I cannot pity nor fondle thee here, but forever relentlessly drive thee hence to where I am kind. why seek me where I have not called thee, and then complain because you find me but a stepmother? Shouldst thou freeze or strave, or shudder thy life away, here is no shrine, nor altar, nor any access to my ear.

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( henry david thoreau , the maine woods , 1846)

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Wednesday May 10 2017