Pulp - Razzmatazz

spilling crimson says....Crimson is a strong, bright, deep red color. 

Razzmatazz

Razzmatazz
— Color coordinates —
Hex triplet		#E3256B
RGBB	(r, g, b)	(227, 37, 107)
HSV	(h, s, v)	(338°, 84%, 89%)
Source		Crayola
B: Normalized to [0–255] (byte)

Displayed at right is the color razzmatazz.

This color is a rich tone of crimson-rose.

SING,SING,SING WITH A SWING BY BENNY GOODMAN 1937

spilling crimson says....The verb "to swing" is used as a term of praise for playing that has a strong rhythmic "groove" or drive.
With the wider acceptance of swing music around 1935, larger mainstream bands began to embrace this style of music.Up until the swing era, Jazz had been taken in high regard by the most serious musicians around the world, including classical composers like Stravinsky; swing on the contrary, with its "dance craze", ended being regarded as a degeneration towards light entertainment, more of an industry to sell records to the masses than a form of art. Many musicians after failing at serious music switched to swing.
Swing jazz began to be embraced by the public around 1935. Prior to that, it had had limited acceptance, mostly among black/african-american audiences. 
Radio remotes increased interest in the music, and it grew in popularity throughout the States.
With the discovery of the Lindy Hop(named by Lindbergh's flight)  and the Jitterbug(a bouncy six beat variant was named the "Jitterbug" )the communities began dancing to the contemporary Jazz and Swing music as it was evolving at the time, with Benny Goodman leading the action. Dancers soon incorporated tap and jazz steps into their dancing.

It is mostly used to introduce a sequence of a style strongly centered upon the human body with 

of four main aspects: centering, balancing, frontality and depth.

The dancers are active and goal oriented.

HYPOCRISY AND CRITICISM

spilling crimson says....

Within Temptation Jillian Black Symphony 

Boris Pasternak has Yurii say in Doctor Zhivago, "Your health is bound to be affected if, day after day, you say the opposite of what you feel, if you grovel before what you dislike... Our nervous system isn't just fiction, it's part of our physical body, and it can't be forever violated with impunity."

The over-attribution of hypocrisy, however, could lead to excessive tolerance of deceit and destructive behavior.

The word is an amalgam of the Greek prefix hypo-, meaning "under", and the verb krinein, meaning "to sift or decide". Thus the original meaning implied a deficiency in the ability to sift or decide. This deficiency, as it pertains to one's own beliefs and feelings, informs the word's contemporary meaning.

Hypocriticism is criticism by somebody (a hypocrite) who criticizes another but does the same as the person they are criticizing...

However there is 

a distinction between critique and criticism:

Critique is an accepted and established process of orderly scholarly and public debate.

It has also  meaning an opposite opinion or suggestion or argument.

Criticism is the judgement of the merits and faults of the work or actions of an individual or group by another.

Hypercriticism is a feature of certain personality types and is colloquially known as nitpicking or nagging. Nitpicking is minute, trivial, unnecessary, and unjustified criticism or faultfinding. Nagging is scolding, complaining, or constantly finding fault. 

There can be tension between friendly support and useful criticism. Useful criticism is a practical part of constructive criticism.

Otherwise a person is intending to down-lift the other person materially, morally, emotionally or spiritually. For high probability in succeeding compassionate criticism, the critic has to be in some kind of healthy personal relationship ...

"in darkness let me dwell" by John Dowland(Mary Beth Maziarz - Souvenirs)

"in darkness let me dwell" by John Dowland

spilling crimson says....In darkness let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be,

The roof despair to bar all cheerful light from me,
The walls of marble black that moisten'd still shall weep,
My music hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep.
Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded to my tomb,
O, let me, living, living, die, till death do come.

LOUIS ASTON KNIGHT - (1873 - 1948)

Aston Knight: Expressing the Poetry of Nature

Louis Aston Knight (son of the celebrated painter of French peasant life Daniel Ridgway Knight) was born in Paris on August 3, 1873. Aston Knight as he was known, followed in his father’s footsteps and painted in France and the United States until the middle of the twentieth century. 

spilling crimson says....By choice, Knight universally included bodies of water in his works. Bays, harbors, rivers and the world’s oceans all found their way onto his canvases.

Crawling bodies (Dimitris Papaioannou) and body-art

spilling crimson says....

Body art is a category of performance art, in which artists use or abuse their own body to make their particular statements.

In more recent times, body became a subject of much broader discussions and treatments that cannot be reduced to the body art in its common understanding. Important strategies that question the human body are: implants, body in symbiosis with the new technologies, virtual body etc. 

A special case of the body art strategies is the absence ofbody. The most important artists that performed the "absence" of body through their artworks were: Keith Arnatt, Andy Warhol, Anthony Gormley and Davor Džalto.

More extreme body art can involve things such as mutilation or pushing the body to its physical limits.

Body art is the modification of any part of the human body for spiritual, religious, artistic or aesthetic reasons.

Charles Baudelaire - A Voyage To Cythera

WATTEAU- Voyage to Cythera

 Eleni Karaindrou - Voyage To Cythera

Jean Antoine Watteau

Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867 / Paris / France)
A Voyage To Cythera
My heart soared with joy, like a bird in flight,
haunting the rigging sliding by:
The ship swayed under a cloudless sky,
like an angel, dazed by radiant light.
What island is that, dark and sad? - Cythera,
in verse, it’s famous you understand,
every aged child’s golden land.
Look, after all, there’s nothing here.
- Isle of sweet secrets and the heart’s delight!
Ancient Venus’s marvellous shadow,
like perfume, covers the sea, around you,
fills the mind with love, and the languorous night.
Isle of green myrtle and flowers, wide open,
beautiful, revered by every nation,
where the sighs, of the heart’s adoration,
glide like incense, over a rose garden,
or are cooing, like doves, in scented air!
- Cythera, now a desert, to mock,
full of piercing calls, a barren rock.
But I saw a strange thing there!
It was not a temple, shaded by trees,
where the young priestess, with flower-like desires,
her body alight with secret fires,
goes, opening her robes to the passing breeze.
But a shore where our white sails moving by
disturbed the birds, and we saw, like jet,
the black of a cypress tree’s silhouette,
a three-branched gibbet, against the sky.
A fierce bird, perching, on the head
of a hanged man, rent him, surely,
planting its impure beak, in fury,
in the bloody corners of the dead.

The eyes were two holes: from the cavernous belly
the weight of his guts poured down his sides,
and his torturers, gorged on hideous delights,
had castrated him, most efficiently.
Beneath his feet, circling, spun a jealous pack
their muzzles lifted, of whirling beasts,
one large one, leaping in their midst,
an executioner, with cohorts at his back.
Inhabitant of Cythera, son, of that lovely sky,
you suffered their insults, silently,
to expiate your infamy,
lacking the tomb your crimes deny.
Hanged man, grotesque sufferer, your pain is mine!
I felt at the sight of your dangling limbs,
the long stream of gall, old sufferings,
rise to my teeth like acid bile.
Before you, poor devil, of dear memory,
I felt all the beaks, and ravening claws,
of swooping ravens, dark panthers’ jaws,
that were once so fond of tearing at me.
- The sky was entrancing, so calm the sea,
but, to me, all was dark, and smeared with blood.
Alas! My heart was buried, for good,
in the depths, the winding sheet, of an allegory.
O Venus, in your island, what I found, was just
a symbolic gallows, with my image, in suspense.
O God! Give me the courage, and the strength,
to contemplate my heart, and body, without disgust!

The Garden of Love~RUBENS

One day you cry , One day you laugh~Julio Iglesias - Un jour tu ris un jour tu pleures

 :

Julio Iglesias One day you'll laugh, you cry one day 
Humming a song that I fall 
The red spots in September, my room, 
One last cigarette, perhaps
And then I'll go to sleep

I think of all solitary on Earth
Who will turn off the light to
The round trip, life, dreams, thank
My glass to their next smile

[Chorus:]
One day you'll laugh, you cry one day, 
One day you live, you die one day, 
Check handkerchief 

Back velvet 
Love story
One day it will, another non- 
One day lilac, one day flakes 
That's life
One day you cry 
One day you laugh.

I was warm in your romance, Sunday;
Monday I cold silence, the absence
I may be a week of pain, 
Then, surely, I'll forget

And I will tell others "I love you" anyway, 
J'effeuillerai other faces, pages
Book this adventure future 
My life, my joys and regrets.

MONOGRAMMA-ODYSSEAS ELYTIS~ Poveste de iubire(Historia De Un Amor)

spilling crimson says....The Monogram

by Odysseas Elytis

I will always mournhear me?for you, alone, in Paradise.

I

Fate, like a switchman, will turn
Elsewhere the lines of the palm
Time will concede for one moment

How else, since man loves and is loved

The heavens will perform our insides
And innocence will strike the world
With the scythe of deaths blackness.

II

I mourn the sun and I mourn the time that comes
Without us and I sing of others whove passed
If this is true

The bodies addressed and boats sweetly gliding by
The guitars that flicker under the waters
The believe me and the dont
One in the air and one in the music

The two small animals, our hands
That tried to climb one another in secret
The flowerpot cool through the open garden gate
And the parts of sea coming together
Beyond the dry-stone wall, beyond the hedge
The windflower you held in your hand
Whose purple shuddered three times for three days above the waterfall

If this is all true, I sing
The wooden beam and square tapestry
On the wall, the Mermaid with tresses unbraided
The cat that watched us in the dark

A child with incense and the red cross
The hour when night falls on unapproachable rocks
I mourn the garment that I fingered and the world came to me.
III

Like so I speak of you and me

Because I love you and in love I know
How to enter in like the full moon
From everywhere, about your small foot in the boundless sheets
How to pluck the jasmineand I have the power
To blow the wind and take you in sleep through the moons passages and the seas secret colonnade
Hypnotized tree of silvering spiders

The waves have heard of you
How you caress, how you kiss
Around the neck, around the bay
How you whisper the what and the eh
Always we the light and the shadow

Always you the little star and always I the dark vessel
Always you the harbor and always I the light shining from the right
The wet jetty and the glint on the oars
High on the vine-laden house
The bound roses and cooling water
Always you the stone statue and always I the shadow that grows
You the hanging shutter and I the wind that blows it open
Because I love you and I love you
Always you the coin and I the worship that gives it value

So much the night, so much the humming in the wind
So much the mist in the air, so much the stillness
Around the despotic sea
Heavenly arch full of stars
So much your faintest breath

That I no longer have anything else
Within these four walls, this ceiling and floor
But to call for you and for my own voice to hit me
To smell your scent and for people to fear
Because people cant bear the untried
And foreign and its early you hear
Its early still in the world my love

To speak of you and me.
IV

Its early still in this world, do you hear me
They havent tamed the beast, do you hear me
My wasted blood and sharp, hear me, knife
Like a ram running across the heavens
Breaking the tails of comets, hear me
I am, hear me
I love you, hear me
I hold you and I take you and I dress you
In the white gown of Ophelia, hear me
Where do you leave me, where do you go and who, hear me

Holds your hand above the flood
The enormous flames and volcanic lava
Will bury us, hear me, and the day will come
A thousand years later when we will be, hear me
Shining fossils, hear me
For the heartlessness of men to burnish, hear me
And throw above them in a thousand pieces
And on the waters one by one, hear me
I measure my bitter pebbles, hear me
And time is a great church, hear me
Where once the forms
Of saints
Shed true tears, hear me
The bells ring loudly, hear me
I cross a deep ford
Where the angels wait with candles and funeral psalms
I go nowhere, hear me
Neither or both together, hear me

This flower of the storm and, hear me
Of love
Once and for all, we pick it
And it never comes to flower anywhere else, hear me
On another earth, on another star, hear me
There isnt soil, there isnt air
That we touch, the same, hear me

And no gardener was ever so lucky

To produce such a flower from such a winter, hear me
And such northern winds, only we, hear me,
In the middle of the sea
Only from the mere wish for love, hear me
Raised an entire island, hear me
With caves and capes and crags in bloom
Listen, listen
Who speaks in the waters and who cries, hear
Who seeks the other, who calls, hear
I am the one who calls and I am the one who cries, you hear me
I love you and I love you, hear me.

MELANCHOLIA -depression

spilling crimson says....Life is only on Earth. And not for long....


The idea for the film emerged while he was in treatment for the depression that has haunted him in recent years. A therapist told him a theory that depressives and melancholics act more calmly in violent situations, while “ordinary, happy" people are more apt to panic. Melancholics are ready for it. They already know everything is going to hell.


The wonders of the human psyche during a disaster, not the laws of nature, are put under the microscope in "Melancholia".


"I like it when things are sharply contrasted. That's why I like juxtaposing all the silly details with the end of the world. When the Earth is ready to crumble between our fingers, whatever we do in the way of heroic conquests or petty family squabbles doesn't matter."