Thursday, January 22, 2009

Early Spring Report:

Spring semester has started at UT on Tuesday. The seminars I am taking this semester are very exciting and all of them are right up my alley: Duchamp by Decade, First hundred years of Photography and The Islamic City.

I am planning to visit Menil Collection in Houston for their current exhibition, Max Ernst; in the Garden of Nymph Ancolie. The exhibition will be on view until February 15th. The department's research round-table talks today were by Peter Mowris on 'Destructive Salvation: Max Ernst's Microbes and the Politics of the Atom' and Caitlin Haskell on 'On Not Forgetting Nature'. They will both present their papers in CAA 2009 annual conference, on Surrealism au naturel session. After these talks I got more motivated to visit Menil's permanent collection to see Ernst's Microbes (microscopic paintings); I don't think the Microbes are part of the current exhibition.

Recently I've started to read English poetry in English. This is not as silly as it sound; I've read some of them before in Farsi. This new interest in reading English poetry is mostly because of David, a dear friend who is a poet himself. I don't follow any style or chronological order. I just read what I find interesting. This is a short one by William Butler Yeats that kept me thinking all day:

Spilt Milk
We that have done and thought,
That have thought and done,
Must ramble, and thin out
Like milk spilt on a stone.
(Yeats, 1933)

And last but not least on my early spring report is the thrill of Obama's presidency; I took this photo on the election night; Obama is giving his victory speech, I am capturing our reflection on the iMac monitor while we followed the speech online. (Obama with Sepia Effect)

Obama in Sepia or Every Election is Your Reflection, November 2008


آدم گلابی said...

yes Roja, reading English poetry in English gives one a different feel of it.
and i liked the photo of Obama and your reflections on the screen!

مسعود said...

سلام دوست هنرمند من
وقتی شعر را خواندم این به ذهنم آمد:آرد را بیختیم و الک را آویختیم.
من خانه ام را عوض کردم.وقتی نتوانی در خانه خودت را باز کنی ، چکار میکنی؟ همان باغ است با این نشانی:

Tameshk said...

Adam Golabi Joonam
There is something untranslatable in poetry, which makes me to think a lot about the place of translation in literature!

Masoud Jan
Warmest wishes for your new home and thanks for the address!