quarta-feira, 26 de dezembro de 2012

terça-feira, 18 de dezembro de 2012

Howl by Allen Ginsberg

Havia uma situação limite. Ele calou-se,
O mundo em queda livre pelos confins do universo. Sentiam a força da queda, o som a rebentar os ouvidos. As bocas caladas, só podiam sentir a força que os puxava, já não decidiam. 

Deram as mãos...

quinta-feira, 13 de dezembro de 2012

terça-feira, 27 de novembro de 2012

Heartplay

A:
May I lay my heart at your feet.

B:
If you don´t make a mess on my floor. 

By Heiner Muller.

domingo, 28 de outubro de 2012

Toda a gente dizia a mesma coisa.

"Toda a gente dizia a mesma coisa.
Longe de mim a ideia de querer afirmar  que o que toda a gente diz seja sempre verdade: todos estamos igualmente sujeitos a acertar e sujeitos a errar. Na vida prática toda a gente se engana muitas vezes, e na maior parte é necessário tanto tempo para descobrir até que ponto nos enganamos que é caso assente ser muito falível qualquer afirmação. Toda a gente acerta uma ou outra vez; mas isso não faz regra - como diz na sua balada o espectro de Gilles Scroggins."

Charles Dickens - O Homem e o Espectro.

sábado, 6 de outubro de 2012

1. Vanguardias sin teatro



"1.1 Black Mountain College (Carolina del Norte), Verano de 1952

Los asientos para el público, dirigidos todos hacia el centro, estaban dispuestos en medio del comedor del colegio, de modo que dejaran paso entre la "platea" y las paredes. Calculadas al segundo como en una composicíon musical, las distintas acciones se desarrollaban entre los espectadores y a su alrededor. Cage, con traje y corbata negros, leyó uma conferencia sobre el Maestro Eckhart desde un atril colocado a un lado de la cámara (...) M.C. Richards declamó solemnement versos desde una escalera de cuerda. Charles Olsen y otros actores "escondidos" entre el público se pusieron de pie por turno y recitaron unos pocos parlamentos. David Tudor tocó el piano. Sobre el techo se proyectaron imágenes cinematográficas: al comienzo apareció el cocinero de la escuela, después el sol, que se puso cuando la imagen se desplazó del techo a la pared. Rauschenberg, entretanto, ponía viejos discos en un fonógrafo portátil. Merce Cunningham improvisó una danza alrededor del público. Un perro empezó a seguirlo y fue aceptado en la representación (Kirby, 1965)."

EL NUEVO TEATRO, 1947-1970 - Marco de Marinis

quinta-feira, 20 de setembro de 2012

sexta-feira, 31 de agosto de 2012

Song

Song

The weight of the world
            is love 
Under the burden
           of solitude,
under the burden
            of dissatisfaction

            the weight,
the weight we carry
              is love.

Who can deny?
            In dreams
it touches
             the body,
in thought
             constructs
a miracle,
           in imagination
anguishes
            till born
in human----

looks out of the heart
              burning with purity----
for the burden of life
           is love,
but we carry the weight
          wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
          at last,
must rest in the arms
        of love.

No rest 
           without love,
no sleep
           without dreams
of love----
           be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
             or machines,
the final wish
          is love
---- cannot be bitter,
             cannot deny,
   cannot withhold
              if denied:

the weight is too heavy
        
             -----must give
for no return
               as thought
is given
           in solitude
in all the excellence
           of its excess.

The warm bodies
             shine together
in the darkness,
         the hand moves 
to the center
             of the flesh,
the skin trembles
            in happiness
and the soul comes 
            joyful to the eye----

yes, yes,
            that´s what
I wanted,
             I always wanted,
I always wanted,
              to return
to the body
             where I was born.
                       
                San Jose, 1954

Allen Ginsberg

domingo, 26 de agosto de 2012

Cut the world



for so long i've obeyed that feminine decree
i've always contained your desire to hurt me

but when will i turn and cut the world?


my eyes are coral, absorbing your dreams

my heart is a record of dangerous scenes
my skin is a surface to push to extremes

but when will i turn and cut the world? 
 
Antony and the Johnsons

terça-feira, 5 de junho de 2012

7/29/48

"7/29/48

... And what is it to be young in years and suddenly wakened to the anguish, the urgency of life?

It is to be reached one day by the reverberations of those who do not follow, to stumble out of the jungle and fall into an abyss:

It is then to be blind to the faults of the rebellious, to yearn painfully, wholly, after all opposites of childhood´s existence. It is impetuousness, wild enthusiasm, immediately submerged in a flood of self-deprecation. It is the cruel awareness of one´s won presumption...

It is humiliation with every slip-of-the-tongue, sleepless nights spent rehearsing tomorrow´s conversation, and torturing oneself for yesterday´s... a bowed head held between one´s hands... it is "my god, my god"... (in lower case, of course, because there is no god).

It is withdrawal of feeling toward one´s family and all childhood idols... It is lying... and resentment, and then hate...

It is the emergence of cynicism, a probing of every thought and word and action. ("Ah, to be perfectly, utterly sincere!")
It is a bitter and relentless questioning of motives...

It is to discover that the catalyst, the (Entry trail off at this point)"

Susan Sontag - Reborn Early diaries 1947 - 1964

terça-feira, 10 de abril de 2012

terça-feira, 13 de março de 2012

There is a song.

There is a song of Jeff Buckley where he shouts: (...) "What is love? / What is happiness?" (...) And I could say love is bla bla bla... happiness is bla bla bla... But to whom am I saying it? To whom suits my answer unless for me? Where does the limits of my answer expands to the limits of other one thoughts? I could say it´s a urge to live. You could say it´s a floating life. So do we have a dialogue about it then? A conversation? Could we mix the two thoughts or in the end walk away in the same straight line? Do we live in questions or do we answer some questions while we live? In the way that you live you feel love you feel happiness? Or in the way you live you try to love and you try to be happy? Maybe questions keeps us alive, searching for something. An answered question is a closed topic. And in the last sentence did I close the question: "What is an answered question?" I don´t feel that I did... Can this text ends? No it does not. It could go on and on opening questions and at the same time this text is just like that because of the person that is writing it (Me). I don´t want to end it, but I don´t want it to be a tautology, so I must give it some kind of punctuation that show you (reader) it is coming to some king of an end, like this ... Or this ! Not this . The answer is still open...          

Tiago C. Bôto 2012

sábado, 3 de março de 2012

I am leaving this harbour

WANDERLUST

I am leaving this harbour
Giving urban a farewell
Its habitants seem to keen on God
I cannot stomach their rights and wrongs

I have lost my origin
And I don't want to find it again
Whether sailing into nature's laws
And be held by ocean's paws

Wanderlust! relentlessly craving
Wanderlust! peel off the layers
Until we get to the core

Did I imagine it would be like this?
Was it something like this I wished for?
Or will I want more?

Lust for comfort
Suffocates the soul
Relentless restlessness
Liberates me (sets me free)

I feel at home
Whenever the unknown surrounds me
I receive its embrace
Aboard my floating house

Wanderlust! relentlessly craving
Wanderlust! peel off the layers
Until we get to the core

Did I imagine it would be like this?
Was it something like this I wished for?
Or will I want more?

Wanderlust! from island to island
Wanderlust! united in movement
Wonderful! I'm joined with you

Wanderlust!

Can you spot a pattern?

(relentlessly restless)


Bjork | Album:Volta

sexta-feira, 24 de fevereiro de 2012

Stories

















Maurizio Cattelan, "Untitled," 2001.
Stainless steel, composition wood, electric motor, electric light, electric bell, computer,
23-1/2 x 33-5/8 x 18-5/8 inches.* ef_dashed_line

quinta-feira, 23 de fevereiro de 2012

Vito acconci theme song 1973

 

WHERE IS THE WHAT IF THE WHAT IS IN WHY

What is a god of phoney creation,
Where am I going with no destination,
What if the fish came from the sea,
What if my lover made me feel free,
What if my intake caused revelation,
What if the point was reincarnation,
What if my shoes do'nt match my jacket,
If it's not working why don't you smack it,
What if your mamma said you were fat,
If you are lost find where your at,
What is a number without any time,
You can't get higher with nothing to climb,
Why have a body if you ain't got a mind,
What is a searcher with nothing to find,
Why is the traffic refusing to stop,
Why climb the ladder if you can't reach the top,
Where is the what if the what is in why,
Where is the what if the what is in why,
Where is the what if the what is in why,
What do you dream of when you sleep at night,
See how the blind man fills up with light,
What is a bird with nowhere to fly,
How can you leave and not say goodbye,
What is a hunter with nothing to find,
What is the goodness without the unkind,
When did the outfit fall out of fashion,
When did the lover run out of passion,
My reincarnation time a phoney creation rhyme,
With no destination mine my information's fine,
Why did the voice say don't step on the floor,
Why did the sign say so float through the door,
What is a god of phoney creation,
Where am I going with no destination,
What if the fish came from the sea,
What if my lover made me feel free,
What if my intake caused revelation,
What if the point was reincarnation,
What if my shoes don't match my jacket,
If it's not working why don't you smack it,
What if your mamma said you were fat,
If you are lost find where you're at,
Where is the what if the what is in why,
Where is the what if the what is in why,
Where is the what if the what is in why,
How did the loser get to be rich,
What is a saleman with nothing to pitch,
When did the fool het to be king,
Why did you leave when they asked you to sing,
Why loose belief if you got a dream,
What is a train that ran out of steam,
what is a spy with no-one to spy,
On who do you sleep with nothing to lie on,
What if the fruit don't fall from the tree,
What if these questions just won't let you be,
Why waste your time looking for proof,
What if the answer is never the truth. 

MOLOKO

quinta-feira, 2 de fevereiro de 2012

I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. i can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. i can´t write this text.I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text. I can´t write this text.

Tiago C. Bôto
"We´re still not doing what we really want to do... I think we´re all still holding back. It´s quite natural because after all we want to be loved and liked. And I think there is something that holds you back somewhere. You think that this is the point and if you go beyond then there´s no exact telling where it led."

(Pina Bausch 1978:230)


quarta-feira, 25 de janeiro de 2012

Sometimes it happens. And you get a chill through your body. And you´re lost. And you can´t see a way through. And you hope that somethings changes. And you fear nothing changes. And you loose and you must admit that you loose. And maybe understanding along the way that no one wins or looses. It happens. Things go on. And you know that in some way you have to accept it. It happened it´s part of you, of your life, of your own reality. And you´re the one who have to deal with it for the rest of your life. And it´s up to you how to deal with it. And maybe in the end you´ll not know what it´s all about. and you just live with it. I don´t like self made sentences.

Tiago C. Bôto

sexta-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2012

"A writer, I think, is someone who pays attention to the world."

Susan Sontag

The Team (Mission Dfrit)



"I think somebody is burning down this place I built
But if you believe in Vegas than you believe in God
I think somebody is burning down my country
I think somebody is burning down my heart
But if you believe in money than you believe in God"


It was great to see them yesterday at Connely Theater in New York.