Breezin' Along with the Breeze



Josephine Baker has a way of making any day better.  Even if it's already one of those gorgeous blue end-of-summer days.

Irene the not so Terrible

We did it!  We lived through the Storm of the Century!  Or the one that was supposed to be.  Or the one that all of the news reporters had us in fear of our lives for the past week about.  In all serious, I'm happy it wasn't bad, just a bit spiteful that I'm still sore from boarding up the windows of the restaurant Saturday and sweating bullets in front of my cohorts.  One exciting thing about the coming storm was the eeriness before the storm.  The said drinkable humidity climbing, the empty streets in a normally bustling seaside community, the fog swirling around shingled buildings and over black calm water, and walking down to the water with an ice cream cone watching a lone surfer barely through the fog.  I had a strange drink the night before which may have induced my weary dreaminess but it was all very ethereal.  As the wind whips outside the windows right now, I hope all of you are safe, and that you got some quality rest and free time during this little tempest.



The Art of the Translation

Italo Svevo

As I finished reading Zeno's Conscience the other night, I couldn't help but think, how does one take a piece of literature and transform it into something of another language?  All while keeping it's true flow and feeling?  As someone who has a hard time reading a language I can speak fairly, the task seems overwhelming, but William Weaver was the translator for La Conscienza di Zeno, and he did a brilliant job.  I actually had the Italian version next to my English and at times would cross over to see how he would do something.  It takes a brilliant brain to accomplish the task he did.  You already may be blessed with his translations.  Do you have Umberto Eco, Italo Calvino or Alberto Moravia in your library?  Take a look, most are translated by William Weaver.

I found a fascinating interview with him in the Paris Review.  His friendship with Frank O'Hara, the experience of moving to Rome before all the Americans and living with a literary crowd there left me breathless and entralled.  But his description of how he translates blew my mind.  So much goes into it, and how he relates it to performance art is nothing less than brilliant.

INTERVIEWER

Might you say that your interest in performance is related to your work in translation? After all, translating is staging a written performance, an interpretation of a text.

WEAVER

 

At Bard College, when you give a course the head of the department or the division always says, Now, how can this be crosslisted? And they said, What about your translation workshop? And as a joke I said, Performing Arts. But you’re right. It is a performing art. In fact, when I’m translating sometimes I literally act out words. I was once alone in my study in the country, and I got to this word, sgomento, and I thought, Well, how do we say that in English? There is a word. I know the word exists, but I can’t think of it! And I started acting sgomento, sort of putting my hands in my hair and widening my eyes. Signor Bassi, the postman, who was also the bass drum player in the village band, came in with a special delivery letter and saw me with a weird expression on my face. And I looked up, and I thought, Oh, Signor Bassi’s aghast. And I thought, Sgomento—aghast! I quickly wrote it down, and I never bothered to explain to him what I was doing. This simply confirmed the local opinion that I was nuts.

If you get a chance take a look at the whole interview -HERE-

"There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh...

...but they leave him a wad"

Won't you stay for tea?  We have Tam Lin to learn by firelight.

images found at Belgian Pearls

A Lamentation



One of the many brilliant illustrations by Liza Corbett.

Waxing Gibbous

I've been feeling especially batty this week and not sure if it's because I've had this song stuck in my head since I woke up Monday morning.  That or our moon phase which will change over the weekend and hopefully bring about some much needed sanity.  Any one else feeling the same this week?

An Interview in the Garden

Wouldn't you love to hear what Virginia Woolf and Lytton Strachey were discussing on that lovely bench in the garden?  And who's that in the foreground listening in?

I don't know if we'll ever know... but if you'd like to know what Nick Campbell of Pile of Leaves and I discussed in his imaginary garden please read HERE

Image Source: National Portrait Gallery

At Bablake School, Coventry

found here

Antonio Berardi Pre-Fall

I realized I don't really talk about fashion much on here, despite some fashion history every once in a while, but in another life it was all I ever talked about, thought about or cared about.  A lot has changed since then, but I still love it.  Especially when I find a collection like this Pre-Fall Collection from Sicilian Londoner Antonio Berardi that captures everything I'm in love with.

It's just the right amount of Art Deco Glamour paired with the perfect dose of Futurism, which actually works perfectly with that time.  I also love that so much in the collection one could actually wear.



I think Rob Marshall should keep this collection in mind when he finally finds the Nora for his Johnny Depp-Nick when he remakes 'The Thin Man.'  Marion Cortillard is rumoured to fill the roll.  Spot on, I'd say.

From style.com by way of this is glamorous

Some Sort of Epic Grandeur

"More than kisses, letters mingle souls,  for thus absent friends speak."

From the always amazing Fyodor Pavlov.

And inside the Great Hermitage

After fawning over you on the gravel drive I'll invite you in for a drink.  Tea?  No cocktails!  I like the way you think.  Let me grab you a Tom Collins...have a look around the place if you'd like. 

As you go around from room to room, you start to notice a pattern...

Every wall is filled with bookplates, paintings, sketches and personal treasures.



Umm...Why are you in my bedroom?  Am I already regretting inviting you?

You see, I really hate the idea of a 'gallery wall' when it's planned and the specimens are from Pottery Barn.  But when they are actual objects found and sourced from special memories, then placed on a wall as a reminder, I'm in love.  My friend's velvet-clad, Hippie mom's house is like this, and although I nearly die from stimulus when I see it, I can't help but love what she's done.  Does it make me crazy or just a collector?  I'll say the latter, you say the former.

Future Hermitage

Can't you see me waiting for you by the columns as you drive up in your Rolls Royce?  Gosh, I love this place and can see myself holed up with my books and gin not letting a soul in other than the rare occasion, like today where I've invited everyone at once.  I think a faux-Eastern Seaboard-Bette Davis accent will be necessary as well. Unfortunately this is already taken by Sybaritic, where I found this lovely Greek Revival in Alabama, but something just like it will suit me fine.  As long as there is uncontrollable ivy nearby, 12 bedrooms, a fully-stocked bar and library and fireplaces in every room.