Monday, 23 May 2016

Or From That Sea Of Time


Samedi à l'Île d'Orléans

OR, from that Sea of Time,
Spray, blown by the wind--a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells;
(O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless!
Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still bring up--Eternity's music, faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim--strains for the Soul of the
Prairies,
Whisper'd reverberations--chords for the ear of the West, joyously
sounding
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;)
Infinitessimals out of my life, and many a life,
(For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give;)
These thoughts and Songs--waifs from the deep--here, cast high and
dry,
Wash'd on America's shores.

Currents of starting a Continent new,
Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid,
Fusion of ocean and land--tender and pensive waves,
(Not safe and peaceful only--waves rous'd and ominous too.
Out of the depths, the storm's abysms--Who knows whence? Death's
waves,
Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.)

Walt Whitman, Or From That Sea Of Time

Sunday, 15 May 2016

Beresford Hammond Hume album ‘The Lightning Bell’


New release coming soon. The Beresford Hammond Hume album ‘The Lightning Bell’ will be officially released this June. It contains 8 tracks of improvisations recorded last year. They are joined on this record by Judie Tzuke which really adds to its heady mix. The glorious images for the sleeve have been supplied by Gaëna (da Sylva) and it will be available through the 52nd. It can be pre-order at the moment via the Bandcamp site:

https://the52nd.bandcamp.com/album/the-lightning-bell

Sunday, 24 April 2016

The Black Herbarium



Soon, images and books availlable...

The Black Herbarium ✿ L'herbier noir
Garden of images | Jardin d'images
Black and white fine art photographs
Copyright © 2016 Gaëna da Sylva
www.gaenadasylva.com

The 52nd

Sunday, 17 January 2016

And yet the books will be there on the shelves


And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings,
That appeared once, still wet
As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn,
And, touched, coddled, began to live
In spite of fires on the horizon, castles blown up,
Tribes on the march, planets in motion.
“We are,” they said, even as their pages
Were being torn out, or a buzzing flame
Licked away their letters. So much more durable
Than we are, whose frail warmth
Cools down with memory, disperses, perishes.
I imagine the earth when I am no more:
Nothing happens, no loss, it's still a strange pageant,
Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley.
Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born,
Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.

Czeslaw Milosz

(Dans ma bibliothèque, des livres anciens et les fleurs de L'herbier noir... )

Saturday, 17 October 2015

The Science of Snow | The Jazz Man

The wintry beauty of the music on “The Science of Snow” is enhanced by the atmospheric black and white images by the Canadian photographer Gaena da Sylva from Quebec who collaborates with Beresford under the generic name the52nd (as in parallel). See http://www.the52nd.com

Nice review for the Beresford Hammond ‘Science of Snow’ CD by Ian Mann, The Jazz Man. Here...

Saturday, 19 September 2015

Confessions of the Green Armchair | New images

Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by                                    Thou art a dreaming thing,
singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording                                  A fever of thyself.
of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a                                    
remembrance.                                                                                    
John Keats


 

Monday, 7 September 2015

A Thing of Beauty

A Thing Of Beauty is an online store that offers stylish affordable second hand clothes. Gaëna da Sylva, fine art photographer and film maker, is the founder of this store, where she wants to gather the pleasure of owning beautiful things in a poetic fashionable way.

As an artist and creative soul, I have always loved to dress in a playful manner. I remember when I was a little girl, how I entered my Mother's wardrobe as if it was a fairy castle. She owned a wine red satin night gown and slippers with little feathers in the same shade. I would put those on, being way too big and walk around like a queen. She also had a trunk where she would keep old clothes from her youth. There were fur collars and shawls and so many treasures. I would put some on and then we would watch wonderful musicals and old avant-garde films together, and I was dreaming of stories, inventing places and worlds. She let me express all those dream worlds I had deep inside and it is a way, alongside photography, that I go through life's less easy moments.

Decorating our body with clothes that make us feel dear, lovable, hugged in the arms of beauty is a richness and a precious liberty we have. Let's enjoy and fill our inner poetry with spirit, reusing to recreate the clothes that once were loved. And... Be good to our Earth.


Warmly,

Gaëna ✿⊱╮


A Thing of Beauty are the first words of Endymion, a beautiful poem by John Keats.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness

John Keats (31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821) was an English Romantic poet. He was one of the main figures of the second generation of Romantic poets. His poetry is characterised by sensual imagery, most notably in the series of odes. Today his poems and letters are some of the most popular and most analysed in English literature.

Friday, 28 August 2015

Lost in the turning of diurnal tides

Trois photos en ce matin paisible où s'est levé dans la brume le spectacle du jour.

Night falls away and fades along the breeze,
Lost in the turning of diurnal tides,
The morning, like a pallid virgin, glides
In cool seclusion 'mid the spectral trees;

And I, more early risen than the bees
Whose tardy wooing the laburnum chides,
Am ravished by an undersong that bides
The lapsing of the leafy harmonies.

I lift my lips to meet the kiss of Morn,
Breathing the breath of Day's sweet maiden-time.
And feel within my spirit, loverwise,
The deep, divine elation sometimes born
Of strains of music or a far-off chime
Or love-light lambent...

Francis Howard Williams



Satie by the lake...