Author: amoepheeng

Ballard. I believe in the story of my feet.

Soon after posting about my shoes I visited the exhibit about Ballard at CCCB in Barcelona, open until November 2nd, . Among many fascinating things there is the text “I believe” published in 1984 in the “Interzone” magazine. While reading it, I realized that I coincided with many items. When I reached “I believe in the story of my feet” I was about to shout “Me too!”. Somehow we are the story of where our feet have lead us.

If you go to see the exhibition, don’t miss the video installation ofAnn Lislegaard, just before leaving at right.

Here some excerpts; the highlights are mine.

I believe in the power of the imagination to remake the world, to release the truth within us, to hold back the night, to transcend death, to charm motorways, to ingratiate ourselves with birds, to enlist the confidences of madmen.
I believe in my own obsessions, in the beauty of the car crash, in the peace of the submerged forest, in the excitements of the deserted holiday beach, in the elegance of automobile graveyards, in the mystery of multi-storey car parks, in the poetry of abandoned hotels.
[…]
I believe in nothing.
[…]
I believe in Max Ernst, Delvaux, Dali, Titian, Goya, Leonardo, Vermeer, Chirico, Magritte, Redon, Duerer, Tanguy, the Facteur Cheval, the Watts Towers, Boecklin, Francis Bacon, and all the invisible artists within the psychiatric institutions of the planet.
[…]
I believe in the impossibility of existence, in the humor of mountains, in the absurdity of electromagnetism, in the farce of geometry, in the cruelty of arithmetic, in the murderous intent of logic.
[…]
I believe in the non-existence of the past, in the death of the future, and the infinite possibilities of the present.
I believe in the derangement of the senses: in Rimbaud, William Burroughs, Huysmans, Genet, Celine, Swift, Defoe, Carroll, Coleridge, Kafka.
[…]
I believe in the next five minutes.
I believe in the history of my feet.
I believe in migraines, the boredom of afternoons, the fear of calendars, the treachery of clocks.
I believe in anxiety, psychosis and despair.
[…]
I believe in Tokyo, Benidorm, La Grande Motte, Wake Island, Eniwetok, Dealey Plaza.
I believe in alcoholism, venereal disease, fever and exhaustion. I believe in pain. I believe in despair. I believe in all children.
[…]
I believe all mythologies, memories, lies, fantasies, evasions.
I believe in the mystery and melancholy of a hand, in the kindness of trees, in the wisdom of light.

New runners

I’ve bought a pair of new runners. The old ones, although they look ok, have the sole broken. I think about all the steps they have run, often along Poblenou beaches, in Barcelona, but also in London, Paris, Stockholm, Prague, Washington, Vienna. I’ve been very happy jogging with them.
I wonder which new runs are waiting for me with those brand new.

I think also in all the steps my feet have done since I was born.
First without shoes, or just bed socks, when I couldn’t stand up alone and depended on my parents or grandfathers arms to kick on a table or a stroller..
But soon I started walking and exploring the world around! I still have a great deal of that curiosity. With “Can Segarra” boots I went to school. Sometimes I would climb over the fence of a uninhabited garden trying to find insects.
And I grew up. Other pairs of shoes took me to the university, marriage, the first trips, becoming father of two daughters and assisting them to their first steps also.
Now, if I do an inventory of my shoes, I realize they draw a portrait of the life I lead.  Those worn out at the left take me every day at work, riding a bike. Back home, a pair of Chinese slippers from Beijing welcome me.
Dear mountain boots! 12 years old, their first time was at Pica d’Estats. They have walked countless treks; done the Tour of Montblanc and climbed the Kilimanjaro. On the right, newer and just 4 years old, my companions in travels, from Japan to Neckar valley.
Those are supposed to be my elegant shoes and they have done just a few km. They have been on opera house carpets; on the right for more informal  occasions.
In summer, “abarques” for promenades and sandals for walking.
Those have never been very far away from home, just to the sea to paddle with my kayak; dry shoes in winter, flip flops in summer.
The merriest: on the left the ones I use when dancing lindy hop; on the right the noisiest. When I wear them I know that I’m going to feel happy.
My collection shoes! Real “chiruques” still in use and coloured “espardenyes”.
?
I wonder how many more shoes I’m going to wear in the years to come and where they are going to take me. What if I would buy them now and put all them in a row? I would look at the end of the row and think that when I would put on that pair, death will be near, although my shoes usually last for some years. What if when we were born we would have already prepared all the shoes we were going to wear in all our life? Strange feeling.  I’d rather think that my last steps would be naked feet on the sand on soon erased by a wave.

 

Magnolia

For the first time, the magnolia in the terrace has blossomed. The flowers don’t last long. When not totally open they have the shape of a tulip in very pure white that contrasts with the shiny green of the leaves.

Soon the petals open and in a few days become brown and fall. Every day I went to watch the tree to see how they changed, like some lights that appear out of the blue, emitting a white light and fragrance for some days and then vanish. Egoist as I am, I cut he last one that blossomed to have it near me. Now I’ll have to wait until next year hoping that the tree will blossom again.

Pictures can give an idea about this white. But how could I describe the scent? A mix of floral fragrance, a touch of lemon and an echo of green grass and forest.
There is a famous story about an indian prince that ordered a pavilion to be built in the middle of a forest of magnolia trees in the huge garden of his father the maharaja, so that he would move to live there when the blossom season would arrive. He was about to die of starvation because, when servants brought him the most delicate food he could not stand any other smell than the fragrance of magnolia flowers. Fortunately, the blossom season didn’t last long and he could survive with just water and hazelnuts. And so he went on, every year, moving to the magnolia pavilion and refusing food while he would have those white flowers around.
There is also the story of a noble russian lady that became blind and, to avoid depression requested a new fresh petal of magnolia flower every day. So, during the blossom season, gardeners would cut the flowers just after they opened, wrapped the 9 petals of each one in silk cloths and stored them in ice.

PD: I’ve just made up those stories but they could have been true.

Sometimes, when I’m about to fall asleep …

… I imagine that instead of lying on the bed I’m on a carpet, flying over the streets and squares of my city. A moment later I can see the whole earth while still perceiving the details of the mountains and rivers, roads and railways, the sea and the beach. I even can see the little private lives of different people. One is reading a newspaper on a beach. A couple is dancing in a terrace. Some kids are playing in the sand. Workers and a crane. A young boy can be seen studying behind a window. In Kyoto people are waking up and preparing breakfast while in Varanasi they are profoundly sleep. In Rio children are coming back from school in the afternoon while in Los Angeles people are having lunch. I can see all of them at the same time, like watching small wonderful bugs wandering on a ball. And I am one of them!

Spiritual needs (2)? An Acorn, lentils, a nap, flying swallows

Airport chapels raised the issue of spiritual needs unrelated to any particular religion. According Maslow, once basic needs are fulfilled, the need for self-actualization appears: “What a man can be, he must be” (A Theory of human motivation, 1943). In a list of traits that self-actualization people exhibit (Motivation and personality, 1970) there are interesting tips such as “philosophical, unhostile sense of humor”, “mystic and peak experiences”, “feelings of limitless horizons opening up to the vision, the feeling of being. Simultaneously more powerful and also more helpless than one ever was before, the feeling of great ecstasy and wonder and awe, the loss of placing in time and space”.

If there are spiritual needs, can they be formulated as a right?
In the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, most of the articles point to very basic issues. Those that go a bit beyond are article (24): “Everyone has the right torest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodicholidays with pay”. An also article (27): “Everyone has the right freely to participate in the cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts and to share in scientific advancement and its benefits.”
This is very similar to what we can find in theConvention on the rights of the Child, article 31: “1. States Parties recognize the right of the child to rest and leisure, to engage in play and recreational activities appropriate to the age of the child and to participate freely in cultural life and the arts. 2. States Parties shall respect and promote the right of the child to participate fully in cultural and artistic life and shall encourage the provision of appropriate and equal opportunities for cultural, artistic, recreational and leisure activity.” In the first part of article 29 there is an eco of Maslow ideas: “States parties States Parties agree that the education of the child shall be directed to the development of the child’s personality, talents and mental and physical abilities to their fullest potential”.

I remember a paper about children’s spiritual rights/needs from Fundació Jaume Bofill (can’t get the reference) where the following features where suggested as belonging to spiritual life:

(1) Wonder and awe
(2) personal experience of joy
(3) experience a feeling of inner serenity
(4) to be aware of the relations and links with other beings and things

Lately I’ve been fortunate enough to fulfil all the aspects of spiritual life:

(1) On Sunday morning I was in wonder and awe when I discovered that out of an acorn, apparently inactive during a whole year, a little cork tree had sprouted.

(2) I had lentils for lunch and, so they were so tasty that I had a rapture of intensejoy. Ah! how can life be so enjoyable?

(3) Lentils were responsible not only for the state of intense joy, but they led me to a nice easy nap. When I woke up, I stayed in bed, breathing slowly, looking at the blue rectangle of sky limited by the window. I experienced a profound inner serenity.

(4) While looking at this blue rectangle, I saw swallows crossing, flying happily. Shrieking. I thought of all the springs I’ve seen them come back, the place where they spend winter in, how would look Barcelona seen from above, all the other people in the world that in this precise moment where staring at flying swallows. I remembered the picture “Bird in space” by Joan Miró at the Reina Sofia Museum which captures in two perfect strokes the fly of a bird in space. And all this together made me feel aware of the connections with all kind of beings.

Spring with water restrictions

Drought imposes restrictions on water consumption and I have suspended automatic watering in the terrace. My emergency plan consists in:

  • mop the floor without detergents and use the dirty water for the garden.
  • Fill a bucket with the water that we let flow in the shower while waiting to reach the appropriate temperature.

I hope this will be enough to keep alive wonders like:

new shoots in a rose

cherry blossom

rock rose (cistus albidus)


topped lavender (Lavandula stoechas)


That, in collaboration with a lost swallow, announce, just in case I hadn’t realised yet, that spring is here.

Maslow at airports

Spending hours waiting for a flight connection in airports can be tiring and boring unless we try to take advantage of this time by looking at the terminal as if it were a strange city or region we were about to visit or inhabit (remember Tom Hanks in “The Terminal trying to survive there) with its curious denizens that wander around with their belongings, each with some destination or project in mind, business, tourism, migrating … just like life itself. Besides watching the people and window shopping, one of the fascinating places in airports are the little chapels or prayer spaces. Somehow, in this strange town, near all necessities are attended;all five layers of Maslow’s pyramid are covered (physiological, safety, love/belonging/social, growth): eating at restaurants, resting on benches o massage armchairs, entertainment with books or magazines, and last but not least, spiritual needs.
As it happens with food, spiritual offer can be diverse.
In Barajas Airport there are two spaces, a catholic chapel and a multipurpose space for mosque or synagogue.
Brussels airport is more interesting. We find six spaces: 

  • catholic
  • protestant
  • orthodox
  • muslim mosque
  • jewish synagogue
  • … and also a “moral assistant”!
This is fascinating! It almost constitutes a Religions’s museum; there is to be noted, however, that only “abrahamic” religions (about 53% of world population) are presented, and “dharmic” religions such as hinduism and buddhism are missing (about 32%). The non religious option would be represented by the “moral assistant”. 

The issue is extraordinarily suggestive. Imagine that you have to define a project for an airport and are asked to write the requirements for attending spiritual needs. Does ‘spiritual’ mean ‘religious’? Does spiritual mean moral, in the sense that you need guidance about what is good or bad (I wonder what kind of conversation are held in the “moral assistant’s” room)? Is humour a spiritual need? What would be your project?

The aesthetic side of the question would regard the architect’s problem: how is to be designed a spiritual space unrelated to traditional religious architecture? Think of the “meditation room” in the United Nations or, perhaps, Tadao Ando‘s projects, that renew the conception of christian and buddhist temples.

 

Mind spaces, prisons, landscapes

 

Now that I got to know about the memory palaces as a technique, I can relate both things and think about mental contents as spaces to be walked through. So, when I fall in a prison of sadness or obsession, I can get out, visit my memory palace or the long corridor of automatic scenes. Following a wikipedia link I found out that Tomas Harris’ Hannibal Lecter has also a memory palace filled with frescoes and sculptures where he can find solace. To exploit more possibilities of the mind and architecture metaphor, two more things: we can leave the closed room where we feel oppressed, and wander in open, indeterminate spaces where perhaps we could build new extensions for our memory palace. Or climb a tower from where things would be seen from a wider perspective. Or, or course, stop thinking and go to the window of present, the window of now and here, with all the interesting details of life scintillating around us, balconies from blocks in the street, faces of people walking in the street, shops, sounds and noises, a breeze, our breath and heart beats … all we are missing when paying too much attention to our problems and obsessions.

We have to avoid what Baudelaire said in some terrible verses in “Le mauvais moine”:

Mon âme est un tombeau que, mauvais cénobite,
Depuis l’éternite je parcours et j’habite;
Rien n’embellit les murs de ce cloître odieux.

My soul is a tomb where, bad cenobite,
I wander and dwell eternally;
Nothing adorns the walls of that loathsome cloister.

Either we change the decoration, or we get out.

 

 

The Memory Palace

Everybody has had the necessity of memorizing a particular text or a collection of items and wished to improve his ability of retention.

It seems that the greek lyric Simonides of Ceos 556 BCE- 468 BCE), while attending a dinner hosted by his patron Scopas, left the room just before the ceiling collapsed. Everyone was killed and the corpses were so badly damaged that could not be recognized. However, Simonides was able to identify them just by the position they had in the table. Out of this experience Simonides drew out the “method of loci” for remembering texts: associate each fragment with an image located in a particular place in a particular room. It is referred by Quintilian ((Calahorra, 35-100) inInstitutio Oratoria (chap.2 p.219 English translation) or Cicero in De Oratore(Book II, p.216).

The art of memory was an important part in the study of rethoric. The roman tradition persisted in the middle ages. If there is a complex set of items to remember, instead of a single room, several chambers of a building are a better option. The jesuit Matteo Ricci (1552 161), missionary in China, refers to “Palaces of memory” in his treatrise on Mnemonics. Although it’s not really required, he suggests to choose an actual building, a palace, or a temple, and place in its chambers different images related to the texts that have to be retained. When in need to retrieve some content, we only have to walk mentally trough the chambers of the palace, visualizing the images we placed before and, out of them, the contents associated with. The device works, we all are able, when far from home, to close our eyes, open mentally the door of the appartment, and walk all our chambers while “looking” at the furniture and objectes we have there.

Other personages tried similar techniques. Giordano Bruno who, by the way, in some points took inspiration from Ramon Llull’s Ars Combinatoria, based his system on the twelve houses of the Zodiac (those with more knowledge of latin than me can profit from this link: Ars memoriae within De Umbris Idearum. In modern times, champions of memory like Dominic O’brien, who can remember in the right order about 2800 cards after seeing them only once, uses similar procedures.
Without pretendint to emulate those feats, anybody can buid his own palace of memory and use it to remember subjects of a test, or a speech. Here you can find clear instructions: http://www.wikihow.com/Build-a-Memory-Palace

1) Draw the blueprint of your palace and define a route, it can be your room, or your appartment
2) Place the things to be remembered
3) Explore and practise
It’s likely that the expression “in the first place … in the second place” can be related to this technique. Or, in spanish, “tener la cabeza bien amueblada” (to have a well furnished mind).

Besides being a useful device, I find the idea of palaces of memory extremely suggestive. We can be poor in terms of real state but we can always build a palace of memory, furnish and decore it with our treasures. There could be windows to a backyard where we chased beetles when we were eleven, on a wall in the corridor with some verses we love, in the next chamber the smell of the sea, in another the taste of a cake our mother cooked for us -our particular proustian madeleine-, in a cupboard a route through little streets in a city we visited last holidays, rooms where we hang pictures from different museums creating our own art gallery, salons where a Schubert trio can be listened to and, downstairs in the basement, the sound of Ray Brown’s bass from a club session six years ago.

Anytime we can close the eyes and, as such wealthy owners that we are, walk the main corridor opening the doors of the different chambers finding lots of things we carefully stored there.

 

Creating a paradise in hard surroundings