SEA'RChing for Turin's shrouD in ᓐ Museuming gaLLery of ARCades + finƉing: { Pessoa | Roa | goaTs | Céline | Messner's Tent | Stanford's Conditions } TAXiDermied in stead 1st imPreS.S.ion of «TORINO» = backSEAt of a CAR we had gRowing ᕫP [nØt far off consideRing ∫ome conSider TURIN = DETROIT d'Italia] || lately [here] on 5¢ense yoU may've noticed ᓐ ∃Limination di [TO BE] + ∀ny + ∀ll forms of IT from this voCABulary/lexICONagraphy | per questa matter «THE» = ᓐ uneceS.S.ary artICLE ± anY artICLE claiming poSSeSSion di un word ᖷollowing IT || + «AND» = really just ᓐ ADDitive gesTexture [rëPlaced by «+»] + «OR» = rëPlaced by «±» | altro PRE-conditions maY ∃xist rëFlecting ᓐ Σum of ∀ll conVentions posted beFore [this] in forMu[til|t]ating a LEXiCON || landGuage aSide [this] PARtiCULLar voYage took us to Turin for: Terra Madre/Slow Food/Salone de Gusto thoUgh «i» won't rë¶eat mYself as «i» already went on about that 2 years ago + nothing's NEWs [tranne veniamo N da Roma inVece di Nairobi] | in GENiEral ᓐ cool place to see peoples from ∀ll OVEr ᓐ planet gæthered togæther to honor . . . [g|F]OOD || ∫ome 1 we kNew tHere dreamT vioLently weird AFTer eating aBove moldY fromage de France whereIN: ᓐ RAM [see below] attacked him + he woke up screaming + headbutting aRound his hotel room [true story nØt to mention any names] || we grazed on such delectables washed down with wines from ᓐ enoteca [of note [mostly Piedmont since that's where we were]: { Barbaresco '07 [Cantina del Nebbiolo] | Monferrato Rosso Valarent '06 [Eredi di Angelino Ezio] | Agliancio '07 [Antica Enotria - Puglia] | Babone '07 [Muralia - Toscana] | } | + AFTer dinner back in town at Cantine Barbaroux [porcini's in season!] | ᓐ 2nd time aRound we = eVen più jaded + conFlicted about this eXpressION of «SLOW FOOD» [mostlY ᓐ lack of scienze + ᓐ hypocrisy of it ∀ll] ᓐ rëMaining Σof time whilST j = in meetjngs «i» flâneᕫred TᕫRin sto¶ping in MUSEums + SEA'RChing for co[d|s]e unSEӔn prior di questo tempo || nØt [to be] MEan ma perché avrebbero ᓐ sightSEEing map per ᓐ blind = beYond me ma «i» appreciate ᓐ gesTEXTure | if only «i» had hindsight to bring rubBEing materials | ᓐ next image is what it looks like in ᓐ middle of ᓐ spiral of MONTE DEI CAPPUCCINI: anche sulla Cappuccinni mountain = ∫ome ∫ort of MounTaiNeering MUSEum ma feeding this word [«museum»] unsynchs imagices by virtue of anticipation | textural æsthetics detourMINE order not flânering SEQuence || aBove shows ᓐ sealed coffin where ᓐ notorious shroud of Turin lays [in Cattedrale di San Giovanni] | (i, j) found it lurking tHere in ᓐ dark corner with no 1 else in sight | unfortunately we missed it's public display back in May perché habbiamo appena arrivato in Rome + were searching for ᓐ home | adesso ∀ll we saw was it's enclosure + ᓐ fake [in ᓐ church next door] | nØt that ᓐ «real» shroud isn't a fake ma as ᓐ forge ± fiction it rëMains a masterpiece for what it is | when «i» was studying physics in Arizona «i» had colleagues inVolved in ᓐ carbon dating ᓐ shroud | ᓐ fact that: «The results of radiocarbon measurements at Arizona, Oxford and Zurich yield a calibrated calendar age range with at least 95% confidence for the linen of the Shroud of Turin of AD 1260 - 1390» was not mentioned in the church literature on site | in a handout on «How to Read the Holy Shroud» they deScribe the shroud as: «the winding sheet in which, according to tradition, the body of Christ was wrapped after his death on the Cross and then laid in a new tomb.» | if this = true then Christ = Medieval ± we now live in ᓐ 8th century A.D. | ∀ll this in no way diminishes ma only stokes my fascination with ᓐ shroud as ᓐ literary fiction—ᓐ giant broadside in lineN—ᓐ huMan Gyotaku in blood—1 hell of ᓐ imagice to PONDer reGardeless of whether it = TRUE ± REAL—a work of ART || COINcidentally in ᓐ same church as ᓐ shroud = ᓐ altar dedicated to [ᓐ rock-climbing]: Pier Giorgio Frassati—ᓐ uncle of nostra landlady || + more than ᓐ shroud though «i» got more geeked out WITnessing Reinhold Messner's tent that = housed on ᓐ top floor of ᓐ Museo Nazionale della Montagna—THE tent that [according to ᓐ plaque] Ressner slept in while climbing all 14 of the 8000+ meter peaks | Messner = my hero when «i» = into climbing + whose feats [+ style in which he achieved them] in mountaineering far surpass any others + funny his resemblance to Brian Evenson | + a tent of ∀ll things [for mountaineers] is probably the most intimate + personal object imaginable—to think of those sleepless + anxiety-ridden + oxygen-deprived nights he must've suffered in THIS TENT: the world is full of beautiful things + the most inteResting 1s = [t|w]Hose beauty lays beYond ᓐ SURface—that get yoU to thINKing of ᓐ hiStory emBedded in ᓐ faBricks of their BEing || on the treno to Torino «i» read Rigadoon by Céline | [at the risk of sounding confessional] it's been a while [15-20 years] since my last reading of Céline—«i» forgot how jaded + brilliant he was | Rigadoon was supposedly completed on the day of his death + is about a series of train trips he [at almost 80 years old] takes with his wife + his cat [Bébert!] during WWII—fleeing France to Denmark [via Germany] | Céline is the master of fusing brooding angst with the hilariously absurd [whilst fusing compassion with not giving a fuck what people think] | granted a lot is difficult to swallow given his anti-semitic ± Nazi\Vichy leanings [perhaps forgivable as misplaced [± misunderstood] anger + with the exception of Trifles for a Massacre it doesn't figure in his work [to the contrary in Rigadoon he says things like «I say that Israel is a real fatherland that welcomes its children home and my country is a shithouse . . .» [his country of course being France] so perhaps he had reservations on his deathbed]]—a lot of the rancor in his rants still reverberates today || in the intro Kurt Vonnegut says: «The lesson Destouches [Céline] learned from this true story, in my opinion, if he hadn't learned it from an impoverished childhood and a stretch in the army, is that vanity rather than wisdom determines how the world is run.» || here's something . . . to give you the idea of how Céline captured the horror of WWII . . . in his signature style: «. . . we're in with them . . . a parade . . . they're not sad, I'd even say cheerful . . . okay! off we go . . . we haven't attracted any attention, me, Lili, and the cat . . . we're part of the crowd . . . they knew what they were talking about . . . I can see there aren't many houses standing . . . more? or less than in Berlin? the same, I'd say, but hotter, more flames, whirls of flame, higher . . . dancing . . . green . . . pink . . . between the walls . . . I'd never seen flames like that . . . they must be using a different kind of incendiary gook . . . the gook . . . the funny part of it was that on top of every caved-in building, every rubble heap, these green and pink flames were dancing around . . . and around . . .» + «. . . there, I can tell you, we had nothing left . . . our last rags and knapsacks had disappeared in the smashup! the cave-in! seven hand trucks under the torrents of bricks, two three house fronts and forged-iron balconies! . . . ah, moonlight! you'll never see such settings and tragedies in the movies! . . . much less on the stage! they tell us that Hollywood is dead! . . . they can say that again! how can the movies deliver after what's happened for real! . . . which is why I personally can't even look at a photograph, is to putrefy! instantly! . . . anything that existed makes you sick to look at! . . . therefore transpose! . . .» you can say that again: vanity rather than wisdom [still] determines how the world is run || evidently Turin was heavily shelled during WWII but you wouldn't be able to tell—most of it still feels very 17th ± 18th century | it has a perhaps grander + European feel to it than Rome with wide arcade-lined avenues + expansive piazzas + numerous indoor galleries + the layout + sense of space is more geometric + linear || an other museum «i» went to [got a Salone del Gusto deal for ∀ll] nØt pictured here : Museo Civico D'Arte Antica in Palazzo Madama | «i» also went back to the fantastic Museo Nazionale del Cinema but «i» blogged about that before [though instead of Polanski there was an exhibit on Vampires + Zombies] || a volte sembra che il mondo intero è un grande museo || c'è anche qualcosa to be said about seeing le cose in stati diversi da diverse angles on different days | an isolated snapshot is pure vanity || + Σum of ᓐ best art is on ᓐ streets | like this Roa sPotted from a distance near an offshoot of ᓐ Po [by ᓐ bus station] | ± if it's not a Roa than it's some 1 ripping Roa off || + nearby the Roa «i» saw some 1 up on a crane painting this: i enQuired + it was an Italian artist from Bologna going by the name of Erica Il Cane who now googling is up to some fantastic stuff like this: back to the botched taxidermy of reality || on the outside of GAM it said «ALL ART IS CONTEMPORARY» which accurately sums up their collection | they had stuff you didn't know ± care what time period it was from | like this naked goth chic in shackles below you might think is contemporary when in fact it's 18th century: ± this from the 17th century: for me a volte è difficile distinguere what is art ± what is artiFACT ± what belongs in a museum ± on the street || things in Turin = not as stark + desolate as these photos might lead you to think | «i» just tend to seek out views with no people in them as «i» think people & the contraptions they drive in ruin photos | ma qui sono alcune: on the way back «i» also finished The Book Of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa | it had my interest at first but «i» tired of it as the book progressed | it was published posthumously based on disordered scraps of paper in a trunk + «i» started to think whether it was something Pessoa even intended to be published ± whether he would've wanted it published in this form | a lot of it seemed like thoughts he was just working out in his head—a sort of private journal for his own use | «i» have shelves of such journals + scraps + would be mortified if anyone put them together after «i» died | then again «i» couldn't be MORTified if «i» was already dead | but some things you write + work out until you know it's in a final form to be «PUBLISHED» + other times it's like doodling ± sketching + it felt like a lot of the Book of Disquiet was this—textual doodling—some interesting nuggets embedded within it but as a whole ungrounded + fleeting | «i» imagicine it might be more interesting if you've read Pessoa's poetry but «i» haven't | «i» also recently read [+ liked] Frank Stanford's Conditions Uncertain and Likely to Pass Away which also might qualify as interesting only if you've read Stanford before | it also felt intensely intimate but it was something [fictions] that Stanford wrote with the intention of being published | they are tales told from various voices—but you can't help to think some of it is autobiographical:
or under the guise of another character [+ more applicable to the Pessoa situation]:
you can't help but to think the film in the canisters is the documentary [It Wasn't a Dream, It Was a Flood] made about Frank Stanford [which despite these perhaps fictional reservations about it being published «i» am dying to see] || back to Pessoa | maybe it was too intimate for me | «i» like some of the mystery to remain veiled—something to be discovered not told | towards the beginning he says:
disconnected yes—but «i» don't feel the book quite lived up to whatever vision of nothingness he had—or whether it felt complete | nevertheless the Book of the Disquiet took me to Portugal in the 1930s through the lens of a poet | + it's bubbling with the occasional insights [some that hit some that don't] like:
. . . though «i» think Pessoa might've meant to say: "Every person who knows how to say what he THINKs about..." [instead of talks about] . . . «i» am still king of my own Rome | most startling about the The Book Of Disquiet is how little the human mind has changed in all these years || |