Paris, My Love : Faubourg Saint-Denis ~ Tom Tykwer

Our relationships are as shallow as our lives. We do not know how to relate with one's own self. As a consequence of it, we just grope in the dark when it comes to relating with any Other. We live a life of conveniences and compromises. As long as it does not disturb the fundamental axis of our negotiated spaces, the show goes on. Pretty well, that too. We contrive stories to suit the nefaroius designs of our mind. And couch them in endearing terms and ennobling references. With the cunning of reason, we concoct extremely clever narratives on love and care, on responsibilities and duties, on give and take. In actuality, we only create a make-believe world where everything is faked and feigned. Behind every facade of courtship, there is a secret bargain hidden underneath. Which is tragic. But grossly real. The irreconcilable contradictions both from within and outside creates a fractured self which is drenched in inexplicable anguish and miserable loneliness, against the backdrop of the deafening silence of the universe.


Do all intimate relationships undergo crises of sorts and keep on floundering? Why should the bubble finally burst into pieces and plunge into nothingness? How many intimate relationships continue to flourish weathering the rough storms? Is it humanly possible to withstand the travails and turbulences of any relationship and still continue to be in love? One of the most profound chapters on love is in J.Krishnamurti's Freedom From The Known. ( http://www.jiddu-krishnamurti.net/en/freedom-from-the-known/1968-00-00-jiddu-krishnamurti-freedom-from-the-known-chapter-10 ). But apart from getting insights into the psychological understanding of one's own self and the intricate mechanisms of the mind, which might be possible on a serious reading of J.Krishnamurti and Erich Fromm, it is also imperative for a spiritual quest in order to comprehend the meaning of living and loving. Else, we would have to continue to wallow in the deceitful and treacherous manoeuvres of the human mind and carry on with the vanity of the self into an eternally perpetuating void.    

Paris, Je t'aime (Paris, My Love) is a collage of 18 short-films directed by 22 different directors of various nationalities on the city of Paris which they all love. Each short film is about 5 to 7 minutes of duration with a remarkable story-telling on various facets of Paris with the multiple meanings in the lives of its human beings. Emmanuel Benbihy, who is mainly behind its production in 2006, had also produced a similar movie of short-films on the city of New York entitled New York, I Love You in 2009. In New York, I Love You, except Fatih Akin's short-film on the life and muse of a painter, the rest of them were a damp squib. May be because, the nature of New York city itself did not inspire the artists as much as Paris did and continues to do. I do not know. Paris, Je t'aime is a collection of short-films containing many delightful vignettes on the denizens of Paris and the splices of their broken contemporary lives. Though I have many other personal favourites in this collection on Paris, Faubourg Saint-Denis by Tom Tykwer stands out as a unique testament on love from the rest.

The story of the short-film by the German director Tom Tykwer gets unfolded in the neighbourhood of Faubourg Saint-Denis, which is an urban district in the city of Paris. Francine (the enigmatically beautiful Natalie Portman) who is an aspiring actress, telephones to her blind boyfriend Thomas (Melchior Beslon) and tells  him that their relationship is over. Thereafter, the director delves us into a series of flashbacks, as the nostalgic images of their shared memories dazzle through the mind's eye of Thomas starting from their first encounter. Thomas recollects their wonderfully joyous relationship filled with passion and turbulence. The sudden phone call from his lover makes him reminisce about their torrid past. While he is sieves through the  weft and warp of his love life, we too travel down the memory lanes and by-lanes. The short-film ends with another phone call from Francine, when he comprehends the intensity of how much he misses her and finally how the blind lover even starts seeing her. When Tom Tykwer felt creatively exhausted and personally adrift after his real life break-up with his lover Franka Potente, he created this moving portrait on love.  

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Faubourg Saint-Denis ~ Tom Tykwer :


- "Yes?"

- "Thomas, listen!"

- "Francine?"

- "Listen!

There are times when life calls out for a change. A transition. Like the seasons. Our spring was wonderful, but summer is over now and we missed out on autumn. And now all of a sudden, it's cold, so cold that everything is freezing over. Our love fell asleep, and the snow took it by surprise. But if you fall asleep in the snow, you don't feel death coming. Take care."

- "Francine... I remember it exactly

It was the 15th of May

Spring was late to arrive and rain clouds were gathering

And you were screaming ~

Francine: "Let me out. Please! Bruno? Bruno you bastard! Bruno, i'm dying here! Please Bruno! Bruno Please! I can't take it anymore!"

Thomas: Hello!


Francine: "Why can't anybody hear me!"


Thomas: I hear you! Who is Bruno?


Francine: I'm rehearsing, can't you see?


Thomas: Umm no, sorry.


Francine: No, no, i'm sorry.


Thomas: You are an actress?


Francine: Trying to be... I've and audition today


Thomas: At the conservatoire?


Francine: Yeah.


Thomas: What kind of scene was that?

Francine: It's... it's from this pretty bad movie i was in once. It's my only one so far but... i'm this prostitute who gets beaten and raped by her pimp and then he locks her in this dark cell all day long and she goes nuts, but at the end they still get married.

Thomas: A pimp and a prostitute?


Francine: (Sounds a bell) Shit! it's ten?


Thomas: So?


Francine: I have to be there at ten.


Thomas: I know a shortcut, come on!


Francine: Wait! Wait!


Thomas: This way.


Francine: Are you sure?


Thomas: Straight!


Francine: That was fast. Thanks!


Thomas: Good Luck!


And of course you were accepted

You left Boston and moved to live in Paris

A small apartment on the rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis

I showed you our neighbourhood, my bars, my school

I introduced you to my friends, my parents

I listened to you as you learned your lines

I listened to your singing, to your hopes, your desires

I listened to your music

And you listened to mine

You listened to my Italian, my German, my bits of Russian

I gave you a walkman and you gave me a pillow

And then one day, you kissed me

Time passed, time raced

And everything seemed so easy, so simple, free

So new and unique

We went to the movies

We went dancing, shopping

We laughed, you cried

We swam, we smoked, we shaved

From time to time you screamed, without reason

Sometimes with reason

Yes, sometimes with reason

I walked you to the Conservatory

I studied for my exams

I listened to your singing, to your hopes, your desires

I listened to your music

And you listened to mine

We were close, so close, ever closer

We went to the movies, we went swimming

We laughed together, you screamed

Sometimes with reason, and sometimes without

Time passed, time raced

I walked you to the Conservatory

I studied for my exams

You listened as I spoke Italian, German, Russian, French

I studied for my exams

You screamed, sometimes with reason

Time passed without reason

You screamed without reason

I studied for my exams

My exams, my exams, my exams

Time passed

You screamed, you screamed, you screamed

And then

I went to the movies

Alone

Forgive me, Francine!"

Thomas: Yes?

Francine: Hey what happened? You're gone all of a sudden. You hung up? Was it that bad? Thomas, are you still mad about yesterday?

Thomas: No...

Francine: Tell me, was it believable?... I see, shit! It doesn't work like that huh? How are you supposed to say: "our spring was wonderful; but summer's over" without sounding completely melodramatic? Ughh Whatever! The director loved it, so i have to find a way. Thomas, are you listening to me?

Thomas: No, I see you..

Venkat Saminathan : Book Release Function Invitation

The above Invite is for a function on the eve of the release of a Book entitled VENKAT SAMINATHAN : DEBATES AND DISCUSSIONS. It is a festschrift by various scholars, critics and friends from India, Sri Lanka and North America on the multifarious works of one of the most fierce and very important literary, art and cultural critic of modern Tamil society, Venkat Saminathan, spanning over five decades. Currently living in Bangalore, the 78-year old Venkat Saminathan, is a legendary persona of uncompromising principles and an ethical vitality that has become so rare during these testing contemporary times. It has taken more than two long years to co-ordinate and compile, to add and delete, to select and edit the writers and their writings. The idea to bring out an honourary volume on Venkat Saminathan emerged during one of those lovely Scotch-inspired moments, on a starry night in JNU's Brahmaputra Hostel room of Shanaa, the wonderful artist friend from Yaazhpanam in Sri Lanka. It could finally be materialised only out of the sustained perseverance of Dilip Kumar, the writer from Chennai and Ahilan, the poet from Yaazhpanam, Sri Lanka. The hardbound tome priced at Rs.300/- which is around 500 pages, is being published by Sandhya Publications in Chennai.

The Book :  VENKAT SAMINATHAN : DEBATES AND DISCUSSIONS

Editors : Pa.Ahilan, Dilip Kumar & SathyaMoorthy

Venue : Devaneya Paavaanar Library, Anna Salai, Chennai

Date : 30.04.2011, Saturday, 5.30 pm

The Book will be Released by senior Writer : K.A. Satchidantham

The Book will be Received by senior Translator : K.S.Subramanian

Welcome Address : P.S.Ananthan

Special Address :

Naanjil Naadan

'Veli' Rangarajan

Jeya Mohan

Sengathir

Thilaga Bhama

Aravindan Neelakantan

Pa.Ahilan

&

Venkat Saminathan

Compere : Chitra

Vote of Thanks : Soundara Rajan

All Are Welcome!

Thomas Constantine : The Second Acquirer Of George Grosz's "Eclipse Of The Sun"

George Grosz ~ Eclipse Of The Sun

My father, Thomas Constantine, now 82, acquired this painting in the late 40's at the age of 19, as payment of a $104 dept from a young man he worked with, who's Father received the painting as a gift from the artist himself. My father accepted the painting as payment, he found it an interesting political depiction of the world. At 19, my father, a Cypriot immigrant saw the meaning of the painting. I remember this painting, rolled up in our Garage, as a little girl. My father sold the painting to Heckscher in 1968 for 15,000. My father has a great explanation of this painting. This is what the artist thought of what was going on in the world at the time he painted it, very, very politically symbolic. The Donkey, the public, who walk with binders and are fed news/newspaper propaganda, Nazi Germany, killed in the name of the church, (the big guy with the wreath of Jesus and a candy coated cross) and other Governments sit around and do nothing (the guys with no heads, writing laws/deals and sit around twidleing thumbs) as the banks get bigger, the dollar sign in the sun, and is all the money made on war, as the people suffer and are imprisoned in their own lives. (the person behind bars on the floor with the scull) Notice the shoes, Rich People in Gov. The Guy who is whispering (with all the guns,tanks and arms under his arm) was thought to be the Man who really started the rise of Nazism that Led Hitler to who he was and what he did. (not sure of the guys name), also notice the rope at the end of what the donkey is standing on, that is something that is used to pull the rug out from under you ... yes, a very interesting painting, and very political.

I entered the above post, about my Father selling this painting to Heckscher .. here is a great explanation of the painting..

It is a scathing indictment of the corrupt military establishment of the Weimar Republic. A fat, weapon-carrying industrialist whispers in the ear of a decorated general wearing a laurel wreath, identified as Paul von Hindenburg (1847-1934), who was Field Marshal during World War I and second president of the Weimar RRepublic (1925-1934). Headless ministers ready to carry out their orders surround the two. In front of von Hindenburg is a funerary cross painted red, white, and black, the colors of the former German imperial flag. A bloody sword recalls the general’s deeds during the war. A, tilts precipitously, threatening to throw von Hindenburg, the industrialist, and the ministers down the stairs donkey, the symbol of the German burgher, stands at the edge of the table, wearing blinkers emblazoned with the imperial eagle and gobbling up the lies printed in the press. Under the table, a child is seen behind the bars of a prison representing Germany’s future. The table, painted green and red, the colors of money and blood and into the pit of death below. At the upper left, a dollar coin eclipses the sun,suggesting that capitalism and power, represented by the military-industrial complex, will lead to apocalypse. Above the figures, destruction is seen in the fires in the dark background. A World War I airplane is seen at the upper right. Eclipse of the Sun was exhibited at the Galerie Flechtheim in Berlin in 1927, but it did not sell and Grosz brought it with him when he came to the U.S. in 1933.

Research by The Heckscher’s Chief Curator Kenneth Wayne has pieced together its subsequent history. In the late 1940s, the painting came into the possession of Thomas Constantine, a house painter who acquired it as reimbursement for $104 he had loaned a co-worker friend in lower Manhattan. The friend’s father had acquired the painting directly from Grosz. Too large to hang, the painting was rolled up at Constantine’s Long Island home for many years. He eventually tried to sell the painting to several major New York museums, but didn’t find a buyer. In 1968, Heckscher Museum Director Eva Gatling saw the painting at the Harbor Gallery in Cold Spring Harbor. She pursued its acquisition with singular vision and commitment,soliciting contributions from the Museum membership. Today, this masterpiece of twentieth-century art is The Heckscher Museum’s most acclaimed painting and quite plausibly the most important artwork on all of Long Island.

~ Post from the Daughter of Thomas Constantine

Avalokiteshvara

Avalokiteshvara Padmapani at Ajanta (6th C)

It is strange. I've always wondered why the deepest of all emotions bring tears. Why is that I always begin to choke whenever I get moved by anything magically profound or innocently simple? An enchanting musical composition, a poignant moment in a novel, a captivating sequence in a movie, a dramatic catharsis in a play always moves me beyond words. Sometimes a simple human gesture evokes the same. And, during the meditative silence before any of the beloved Gods and the intimate Gurus. The deep-seated longing in every soul to be in constant communion with the eternal gets expressed in the tear. Or in the mirthful laughter. Both evoke the same resonance at the core of one's being. 

Avalokiteshvara is one of the most pivotal Bodhisatvas in Mahayana form of Buddhism. He is the Maha Guru, the Enlightened Soul of Boundless Compassion. Also called as Padmapani in Sanskrit, Avalokiteshvara is the embodiment of infinite compassion, always hearing every cry of every being in the universe and appear anywhere to salvage them from all forms of distress. Chanting the Mantra of Ohm Mani Padme Hum, holding a lotus flower in the Hand, with the Moon of total purity behind, Avalokiteshvara liberates all beings from suffering in this world and enriches the love and compassion of all beings for life and living. Blessed are the ones who have searched and found out such Gurus to protect the cherished soul..   

Avalokiteshvara at Nalanda (9th C)

The Little Prince ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

It was then that the fox appeared.

"Good morning," said the fox.

"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.

"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."

"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."

"I am a fox," said the fox.

"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."


"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."

"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.

But, after some thought, he added:

"What does that mean-- 'tame'?"

"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"

"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean-- 'tame'?"

"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"

"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean-- 'tame'?"

"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."


"'To establish ties'?"


"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."

"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower... I think that she has tamed me..."

"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."

"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.

The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.

"On another planet?"

"Yes."

"Are there hunters on this planet?"

"No."

"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"

"No."

"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.

But he came back to his idea.

"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life . I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat..."


The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.

"Please-- tame me!" he said.

"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."

"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me..."

"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.

"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me-- like that-- in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day..."



The next day the little prince came back.

"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites..."

"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.

"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."

"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you..."


"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.

"Yes, that is so," said the fox.

"Then it has done you no good at all!"

"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:

"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."

The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."

And the roses were very much embarrassed.

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you-- the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.."


And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.


"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have shared for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have shared for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."

"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

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~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery : The Little Prince


(Chapter : 21 : The Little Prince And The Fox)


Translated By : Katherine Woods


Illustrated By : Antoine de Saint-Exupery


First Published in 1943



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