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stereogram in The Republic (10/28/2010) Meet at the Rotunda

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Premiere of "Enlightened"

The pictures belong to the staging of "Enlightened" which premiered on July 22, 2006 in Mexico City.

monologue based on the text Mary Magdalene or the Salvation of the book Fires of Marguerite Yourcenar. After 45 minutes in a playful act, we will unveil the character keys of his love. We are witnessing an interior view where we discover the secrets of the soul and here Mary Magdalene is the eternal traveler, the woman who goes through times, his memory, the only luggage. The word is the voice and the sign to think. About us is re-created. Here just an empty space with drawings in chalk on the stage to open up the ark of all possibilities and that this space is transformed either in a milky way on a road apple town, a bedroom, a garden, a desert, a train station or a grotto. The body is the scenery, an instrument that raises the visual miracle where everything opens in a lush jungle to show poetry.

Staging and direction: Eduardo Gutierrez de la Cruz
Like Mary Magdalene: Tanya Cosio
Costume: Flor Hernández Jiménez / Victor Hugo Hernandez
Lighting: Silvia Moran
Music: Roberto P.
Light Utility & Support: Setting Fonz
Makeup: Eduardo Gutiérrez
General Production: Pat Sanchez
incidental music: Moskau-Petuschki
John Wolf Brennan

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literature, music, dance, talks ...

Welcome to the first gathering of Fine Arts: Meet at the Rotunda.

On Thursday 28 and Friday 29 October in the third courtyard of the headquarters (Jr. Ancash 681 - Cercado de Lima) from 5.30pm



Programming:


Thursday 28


5:30 pm Poetry recital by Onyx Magazine

Intermediate: Andy Friendly (stand up comedy)

7:00 pm Discussion: "The collective and art in public spaces" (Martin representatives participate Olivos (Los Olivos) of Guilty (Barranco) of FITEC (Comas) and Collective .
Close
Music: Violin Concerto Contemporary


Friday 29


5:30 pm Reading Short Stories by Plesiosaur Journal

Intermediate: Vera Cristina Díaz (ballet)

7:00 pm Discussion: "Art in Peru: purity, extract, combination or mixture?" (Participate Aldana Cesar Ramos)
Close
Music: Concert of classical and contemporary guitar by Abel Velásquez Zavaleta


material will also be tables with individual journals.

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terse message

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soon return to power.

Greetings,

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Discussion: Perspectives on the young literary magazines

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A new Nobel: Books

(excited, too many words)

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Presentation of the book and reading Unholy Requiem Dramatized Eduardo Gutierrez de la Cruz

MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 Ezekiel: I have fear, Sophie! My flesh is weak to accommodate a teacher powerful. E stas ruins are a filthy place to get a deity ... Seven days I tried prayerfully find the key that opens the skies! Seven years I ening for my cue rpo to resist the m and hunger! I think this jacket is imperfect for not fall into the vices which devour all men on earth.

LIDIA: Seven days so many days for love! Seven days is seven circles of hell for loving, I'm tired ... Look, I'm tired of seeing clockworks as the sand falls endlessly in this dying body ... You are hard on you, Sophia. At night you also weep or into the abyss of the soul. Hueco deep vacuum away from light! dark night we p roasting, dying light goes off! No more philosophical bacteria which are reproduced on a whim of ours, or silkworm our bones entangled, or spinning life, nor knowledge, nor hidden edges or spells on maps of the brain, or threading stars, planets, constellations and Milky Ways in his hair! I do not want to be wise, prophet, saint, or elected!

SOFIA: Do you get well before the holy and the divine? Bitch! I only like meat, they touch you, you fornicate ... Wicked! Desecrate! ...

LIDIA: Yes profane, but not black bitch ...

SOFIA: know I have the power and Ezekiel belongs to me, I know you've got your body possessed by lust, full of mud Lydia! Hezekiah is just the meat ... Meat! ... and waste human flesh, molding it, gets caught or if you like it disappears.

LIDIA: Ezekiel, I am damned in the eyes of God, the flesh only is my salvation, you must get me out of here ... There will be only light, touching the requiem sacred ... But just believe in the requiem that emerges from the music and the singing of two bodies and two loving mouths.

Lidia: Tanya
Sofia Cosio: Ana Catalina Valencia
Ezekiel Jesus Aguirre
Assistant: J. Faride Beyruti
Address: Constantino de la Cruz


Photo: Nasheli Baxin

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ILLUMINATED

Mary Magdalene or the salvation of Yourcenar

lifted stairs, they pulled strings. God came off, like a ripe fruit, ready now to rot in the earth of the grave. For the first time, inert rested her head on my shoulder, his heart juice We put sticky hands, and at harvest time. Joseph of Arimathea went before us with a lantern, John and I doblábamos under the weight of that body heavier than the man soldiers helped us to put a millstone were blocking the entrance to the tomb. No return to the city until it was cold evening sun. We met again, not without surprise, with shops and theaters, with the insolence of the bartenders, with the evening papers which filled event page Passion.

Tanya Cosio as Mary Magdalene
Address: Constantino de la Cruz
Photo: Daniel Moreno

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MVLL craft

The Leoncio poet Luque, member of the group Katerba Noble, and now serves as professor of literature at a school in Villa El Salvador, had a very original idea to raise students' interest in poetry. It was not pushing them to another art again, something distant, almost abstract, no. Quite the contrary. Sought, promoted and encouraged every one of those guys were high school seniors participating in creative writing. Moreover, not of the same texts that are repeated in the typical college textbooks, which many of us we had to endure and many more turned away from literature and reading in general, with its readable and got it squared a series of poems and stories complete ossified. Professor Luque gave them access to other creations, other authors, from different eras, different realities, and invited them to find a link to each of these works. But let us explain himself:

The start of reading poetry is a fun question that begins when the student is given a pile of books of poetry from different generations, bringing it to their context, their generation. And the issue of creation flows like something closer. Because students are more familiar and you feel him, and who start investigating certain author who has captured your interest. Then collected, read, models, design books they think edit by hand. I copied by hand or you take photostat, do you, take over from the acquired poetic taste. The fillings with different materials, according to your taste and interest, card, cardboard, corrospón, microporous simple cardboard, cloth, painted, etc. Then there is the work of a poet anthologized as a single text. The student has done his research material, has found that feelings for the new poetry, not so new, it's not all rhyme, but music, rhythm, cadence, diagrams, pictures, and then share their research with the rest of the students and increase their knowledge of Peruvian poetry.

As we see this experience is not a simple extension of classes, a job to do, but an opportunity to connect with the rest of the world, other worlds: the art and living in interior.

think they can be editors, writers, designers, librarians and can make an International School Fair with foreign writers. I happy, but exhausted, but happy. I am a teacher, but before the teacher, I am a poet, and do not want to be stingy in denying knowing the actual poetry, when all information is available. I do not want to have fifty years and just found out that a writer close to the time he was publishing in search of a reader.

Now, tomorrow in the school premises Republic of Peru will hold a Expoferia where we know and enjoy the work for each of those guys.

Here is a small sample of what we find:

An initiative indeed worth emulating.

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poetry or short essay towers on the minimum (II)

II

Who knows Enrique Bustamante and Ballivián? There are very few who can attest to the author of the Antipoems, a nice book that deserves at least a couple of tests and assessment hermeneutic appropriate. It is true that Bustamante and Ballivián is not a "great" poet, not a Vallejo or Eguren-founders of some of the most vital traditions and substantive poetry in Latin America of our time. His office was not only poetry, also devoted himself to editorial work. We owe it to this side of him the first issue of abolition of death (one of two key books Emilio Adolfo Westphalen) and the first study on the poetry Alejandro Peralta, the bard Puno rated yet profound ways. These books are indispensable part of his legacy. His job was to be there at the right time, to offer and humbly offered as an editor, even without knowing it and, perhaps, perceive not.
art, like any human activity is made up of defects, failures, of hatred, of affection and all that is part of the insignificance of the work. The great monuments, those books (and now I speak as a reader of poetry) rights, are seen in the distance, forming a first truth: that which has the difficult art of creation, the confrontation with the missing word and efficient, free verse but beautiful. From our place in the world witnessed the fatal witness of poetic creation. Not for us to stillness. The appreciation of these works is, it should be, just a hint, no doubt, in our search key. Poetry is also reciprocity and love. In small dimensions, but some minor work, there is also poetry. If major works are perceived towers in the distance, not enough to contemplate. Be approached. Feeling the dry land which is erected, and unbearably heinous that dust that covers everything real. Its geography is ruinous testimony, colorless voice says the pieces of a world eager to resurrection. The minutiae, the accident, the accessory are also part of this great art. How to weigh the true value of artistic work without acknowledging that any creation of man is the product of a circumstance beyond reproach absurd, chaotic, abusive, unreal? Yes, the reality is unreal. It has always been, will continue. His consistency is temporary and random. Every day, new combinations and possibilities, mixed with our desires and hopes, why are not dead?, Why my house is still standing?, Why one word yields to the presence of another? What chance is confused with the cause: that fleeting balance arises incandescent work of art. How many times have we discovered in our mouth an unfamiliar word? Who do we thank? In a world where divinity has been relegated, we are all, each one of us, the living body in the world. This is the first matter of art, the combination that defines their existence: the voice of the dead friend, hate desperate, furious beat of a heart on fire, the splendid half wound to the face. From this arises and, just because the man is an animal in constant pain, just because an animal is still surprised, then back.

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News employees (René Llatas Trejo)

As we said on one occasion above, we want to reward the support given by our employees, providing its new activities and spreading your current project. This time, a preview of the novel René Aftersun Llatas Trejo, publishing partner -8, with the article "Henry Miller and the framework of fiction." Also, let them know who is in pre, just 15 soles. ***

Custom and its greatest virtue. The disintegration of misery, a new chain of emotions through the city, a new discovery, a small imaginary exile, a chess puzzle feeling less competent. The obstinacy of seeing a sunrise indistinct, provide that objects are processed and return to be the same. But nothing has happened. Any lesser extent has been diluted and fermented like a wolf urine. We need to open windows and leave the things that Clea has not been able to bear.

Trinidad
Letter:

'is four: winter sun. I would be drugged. I imagine a dark and hazy room, a little cold, and background sound of a guitar. I would be looking at the ceiling without looking, while puffs expired. I would run to the beach and sit on the edge of the pier, with a pecan ice cream. And you? Stendhal? "


Your name flies, is locked in my hands like a kite, and falls into a blank page. His name is the name of the woman I love. Her voice hangs up on me. Even if bad is good, the right of every soul has to wake up. Vanity is fierce. I read one page without having to be someone else.

Trinidad
Letter:

"I do not know, it's ironic and funny at once. If I were not in Clea obviously I had not married. I'm a mess, and I'm sorry. I'm disappointed in myself, and really sad and frustrated. Unlike you, I miss being alone, alone, alone. It is absurd but I miss. I miss who I was, and I feel that Clea is sleeping through my fault, because each time the full of sleeping pills. It is terrible, as if standing on a cliff and I could throw. I have fear of not being here, not recover, Stendhal. "
***


University. People walking, transit, talk. It is a modern day, there are no shadows. There is a kind of platform and on each corner a block of cement. Only one stands out for its size than the rest. This I support. I'm waiting for Clea. Look around. Appear within minutes. I looked, and Clea too. Walk slowly and expects to lift his face to look at me as she knows. I get up, road and not stop her.


An empty room, high ceiling and wooden floor. Clea and I are sitting. We hugged, caressed our hands, pensive. Support my hand on his cheek and kiss her neck. Clea makes a small movement away, but imprisons.

"I observed everywhere. I knew you were there at the front, side, up, down. I immediately realized that if I saw you I was lonely. I missed your eyes. Clea

smiles.

"I knew you did not like.

"I never said that.

"Now is a dagger that never stops. Clea

smiles.

-be fate perhaps.

"We'll be us.

Sorority Paddling 2010

Deniau and wall-verre Dallas Harlequin



know the work of Victor Loup Deniau, for lovers of beauty
is an appointment with magic or L'Athanor ... as the artist describes it well.
combines creation and death! Visit their site
and dance together.

Victor Loup Deniau


But ...
What to do when looking for words to describe, a flush, a feeling
and actions exceed what ... Still, I try.

For your magic
Condemned by the beauty
only a fragment of the creation
without moment generating eternity. Fade
the sad dark dust, flapping
scattered like chimes.
Descend and climb spiral
landslides with vertigo and float ...
Attract, do not fit dreams.
Congoja to alchemy.
Bells, mudras and
'm drifting sailboat ...
of your work!


Embrace.

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Marco Aurelio Denegri and magic



And so, ever react against this harassing gadfly of the reason ...

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To be one with all life ... (From Friedrich Holderlin)

To be one with all living things, come back in a happy oblivion of himself, the whole of nature. Often reached the summit ... but a moment's reflection it is enough for the falling down. Meditate, and I feel like it was before, just with all the pains own mortal condition, and the asylum of my heart, a world entirely disappears, nature crosses his arms, and I to stand before her as a stranger, and I do not understand. I wish I had not ever been to your schools, because in them is where I became so reasonable, I learned to differ fundamentally from what surrounds me, I'm isolated from the beauty of the world, have been expelled from the garden and nature , where it grew and blossomed, and I August to midday sun. Oh, yes! The man is a god when he dreams and a beggar when he reflects.

In: Hyperion or the Hermit in Greece

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There is a sea

thick and tender to hide the bodies. There is some mysterious substance that rises and down, they sink and slide your foam fingers in the belly, back. Nothing takes the bodies and move, nothing moves like a fish smiles when looking at the moon. Contain some less friendly and more powerful. Contained a pool of blood, a deep affinity for death, a scarlet animal struggles to escape from the bones and meat.
Killing for food is only delaying the escape of blood, body transmit to another ancient disease.

photos Cesar Jumpa, presented below, tell us about this ritual.













By: Gerson Ferson
Photo: César Manuel Jumpa

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Sacrifice Books.

men of letters. Inveterate readers. Arts students or older philosophies. Relegated to the trivial and fleeting life, full of frivolous consumption. Men who reported excessive materialism in their environment and that play with the big ideas. Young people concerned in metaphysics, in the paintings of Redon, in Plato's Republic and The Library of Babel. And how to love books, very new, expensive, rare. They look voraciously and care as fetishes. They crave the difficult challenge of owning large collections, libraries pompous. It is not love of books, no. It is the cult of the object, the body. So I accumulate more and more books, to reconcile with my time.

transcendent Worried? No ... just crap. Sometimes the sensuality is hidden under the most enlightened laps.

Lover's books

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dreamed that a harlequin loved me. Caressing
colors of dawn
his figure loomed.

Each pore flashed, after
emerald glass bodies.
Come to me, give me whispered and soul.

gradually radiated beauty.
My hands, I looked laborious.
looked at me like I dreamed. You

labor of love and hope.
have my home and home and your heart
offer
from the imaginary quiet.

When light is calling you draw kisses
refracted,
that between smiles elude
and fly aimlessly, gently.
Holding out your magic ...


PD: I concluded this mural art in vitro
cement. The idea is an oil painting that
made years ago for my children.


A Abaza.

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