Memory box

 


Che fai tu, luna, in ciel? dimmi, che fai,
Silenziosa luna?
Sorgi la sera, e vai,
Contemplando i deserti; indi ti posi.
Ancor non sei tu paga
Di riandare i sempiterni calli?
Ancor non prendi a schivo, ancor sei vaga
Di mirar queste valli?
Somiglia alla tua vita
La vita del pastore.
Move la greggia oltre pel campo, e vede
Greggi, fontane ed erbe;
Poi stanco si riposa in su la sera:
Altro mai non ispera.
Dimmi, o luna: a che vale
Al pastor la sua vita,
La vostra vita a voi? dimmi: ove tende
Questo vagar mio breve,
Il tuo corso immortale?
 

Giacomo Leopardi
Canto notturno di un pastore errante dell'Asia (1829-1830)
For English translation 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

 

 

The Sangallo trio 

visits Texas

 

 

 

 
"Why is geometry often described as 'cold' and 'dry'? One reason lies in its inability to describe the shape of a cloud, a mountain, a coastline, or a tree. Clouds are not spheres, mountains are not cones, coastlines are not circles, and bark is not smooth, nor does lightning travel in a straight line... The existence of these patterns challenges us to study those forms that Euclid leaves aside as 'formless,' to investigate the morphology of the 'amorphous.'"

Mandelbrot

 

 

   Mantua me genuit ...(Virgil, Mantua: the most romantic city in the world, and with an Arabian nights skyline rising above its three encircling lakes, Mantua is undeniably evocative. It was the scene of Verdi's Rigoletto, and its history is one of equally operatic plots, most of them perpetuated by the Gonzagas, who ruled the town for three centuries and left two splendid palaces - the Palazzo Ducale, with Mantegna's stunning fresco of the Gonzaga court, and Palazzo del Tè, whose frescoes have entertained generations of visitors with their combination of steamy erotica and illusionistic fantasy. You cannot miss to visit the sala of "Amore e Psiche"!!!


 Some paintings!!!

 

 



 

Beethoven
"...my misfortune pains me doubly, in as much as it leads to my being misjudged. For me there can be no relaxation in human society; no refined conversations, no mutual confidences. I must live quite alone and may creep into society only as often as sheer necessity demands; I must live like an outcast. If I appear in company I am overcome by a burning anxiety, a fear that I am running the risk of letting people notice my condition...such experiences almost made me despair, and I was on the point of putting an end to my life - the only thing that held me back was my art. For indeed it seemed to me impossible to leave this world before I had produced all the works that I felt the urge to compose, and thus I have dragged on this miserable existence..."

- from Emily Anderson,
The Letters of Beethoven, Vol. 3,

 



 Memory

Anna Mary Robertson ("Grandma") Moses (1860-1961), the "primitive" painter who began her great career as an artist at the age of 75, when arthritis made it difficult for her to sew. (She later defined a primitive artist as "an amateur whose work sells.") Having lived all her life on farms in upstate New York, she specialized in painting country scenes from her childhood. She said: "A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day." Her thoughts on her life? "I have written my life in small sketches, a little today, a little yesterday . . . I look back on my life as a good day's work; it was done and I feel satisfied with it. I made the best out of what life offered."

 
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