Sunday, April 3, 2011

New York Times: A.O. Scott On Landscape

"Idiosyncratic...........sneaky.......overt....cosmic.
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Mundane.......dispiriting.
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Calabria......earthly transit........material transmutation.......care......engrossed.....cinematic prose.......epic.
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Lyrical depth.......all of creation.
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Incursions of modernity are minimal..........ancient.
Freshness......sense of discovery......
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Totem.................tragic........plot......character.....performance.................peasant customs.
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Clarity................
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Wit of a silent-film maestro.............................sustained..........Elegantly staged accident.
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Absurd.
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Rigged..............deftly.............most Newtonian of his farces..........
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Intrinsic preposterousness...
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Philosophical stratagem.
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Accessible and endlessly mysterious........
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If you pay attention....
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Grasp the connections..............................startling.........shocking..............angle of vision.......
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Disparate..........lingering.............
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You have never seen anything like this movie, even though what it shows you has been there all along."
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'You have never seen anything like this GARDEN, even though what it shows you has been there all along.' (My version of A.O. Scott's sentence.)
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How to describe what you've just read? Inspiration via words.
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A.O. Scott is a film reviewer for the New York Times. I read his articles with a pen, circling & underlining phrases & words. Later, I put his words & phrases into my journal, written by hand. Seeing his words/phrases I see gardens. Stories of gardens.
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The best gardens contain all of A.O. Scott's words/phrases.
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Gardens are where all resides. Metaphors for living. A moat of grace.
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Garden & Be Well, XO Tara
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My paternal grandmother played the newspaper on the piano. Her brain translated words/letters into notes. I translate stories into gardens. Forms of synesthesia?
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I took the pic in France, a private garden.
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A.O. Scott words from his recent NYTimes article, Eternal Complexities Of the Very Simple Life.

3 comments:

Bruce Barone said...

A poem you offer.

A garden is a poem.

Mitzi said...

I have a friend who is a synesthete. She is a gifted musician who has always "seen" musical keys as colors. As a child her mother painted her bedroom lavender, but they had to repaint it because she was uncomfortable "hearing music in C-minor whenver she was in her room." She was actually featured in an episode of "Medical Mysteries." Very fascinating that your grandmother heard pitches when reading words.

Lydia said...

hmm. Fascinating language- a moat of grace. That I will have to ponder. Grace feels more like a fountain to me, moats more redolent of caution, protection and stillness.