Half-finished love affair


Reading David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas which is since yesterday overdue at the library. I guess will pay the fines for a few days till I finish it. I was inspired by a quote from the book itself. In the Letters from Zedelghem the musician Robert Frobisher writes:

A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.
Guess I must end the love affair even it means a few days delay for the next person in queue.

Brilliant writing. Masterful in the way Mitchell controls the registers and tone of the different voices. There are many of them. More when I am done...

Picasso Museum in Barcelona: The Father of Man

New art faces much initial resistance and then is finally accepted. Once accepted, new art becomes great art. Then it spawn imitators, and then it becomes a cliche that makes its way onto posters and coffee mugs. Newer art must come to take its place. That is essentially the motivation of every artist that aspires for greatness. To see the same things in a different and original way. The more interesting question for me has always been: how does it get to being there? Meaning, how does an artist go from an apprentice to a truly great one? How does the unique vision come about? What propels the shift in perspective?

In a sense, after the first few Cubist paintings, the whole idea ceased to be original; it became a genre. There is much to be done in a genre, but the truly original artist creates one. If there is an epitome of a great artist meant then there is none other than Pablo Ruiz Picasso (Peter Schjeldahl wrote that Matisse and Picasso are still tied in overtime for that titleNew Yorker, June 26) Picasso is at once symbolic for art and artists in the 20th century, and also for what baffles people about modernism or abstract art.

My own experience with Picasso's work has run backwards. I first saw some of his masterpieces at the National Art Gallery in Mumbai as part of traveling exhibition hosted by the French government. It was mostly his later work. The next time I saw a Picasso was in Musee Picasso in Paris. This museum that is housed in magnificent mansion in Marais quarter and is the most extensive collection. The paintings were 'acquired' by the French government from the Picasso estate for unpaid taxes. The size and extent of the collection makes one wonder about the actual income if these were just the taxes! This museum contains the most representative of Picasso's paintings and sculptures. Portraits of his mistresses and lovers - Marie-Terese and Dora Maar, the bulls and the guitars.


The Picasso Museum in Barcelona which I last visited is an entirely different story. Of all the museums that I have seen this is perhaps the most accessible. Picasso who was born in 1872, and in his teenage years lived in Barcelona where is father was a teacher at the local art school. Another fact that the guidebooks and other sources never fail to mention is where Picasso lost his virginity to some local prostitute.

The museum was initially created from the personal collected of his sister and contains all his early work up to 1902. After that 1902, Picasso made a final move to France and never returned to Spain. There was no question after Franco assumed power to even visit Spain. Picasso the artist of the Left vowed never to return to Spain till Franco was alive. Unfortunately for Picasso and the rest of Spain, Franco outlived Picasso by two years. Picasso died in 1973. It was Picasso's intention that a musuem should be established in his hometown Barcelona.

Picasso famously remarked that he never drew like a child. "It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child". I sometimes wondered if this was a boast. After visiting the museum, I know that it was not boast. The sketchbooks and paintings show that as teenager Picasso had mastered classical drawing and painting.

It was inevitable that he would quickly tire of the classic forms and move on to something new and different. He had nothing more to learn in terms of draftsmanship, or refine in terms of technique. If it wasn't Cubism, it would have been something else, that change was coming was inevitable.

Just like his contemporary Einstein, Picasso showed his genius early (before 1910) and then spent the rest of the next six decades refining that idea and chasing the idea of what art meant, what it represented, where it should go next. He went from highly stylized, imitative drawing to more basic forms in abstract geometry shapes, and then finally to drawing like a child. A few lines and dabs of color here and there.

The museum humanized Picasso. It shows the progression, the development, the wit, and the promise of great things yet to come. The creation of his later masterpieces - L'Demoiselles D'Avignon, Guernica, didn't just come about from thin air. Picasso the youth drew and sketched obsessively. He had more than 10,000 hours of practice drawing before he moved to Paris.

For all its fame and accessibility the Picasso Museum still come second for the title of the most visited museum in Barcelona. The most visited museum in Barcelona? F.C. Barcelona's museum in Camp Nou.

Experimental error

The forceps of our minds are clumsy forceps, and crush the truth a little in taking hold of it.
- H. G. Wells

The Original Ultralight Backpacker

When John Muir stepped into the Yosemite backcountry, biographer Amy Marquis noted he traveled alone, carrying "only a tin cup, a handful of tea, a loaf of bread, and a copy of Emerson." If you can keep your pack load that small, feel free to take along a favorite book. You deserve such a luxury.
For more advice: http://www.rei.com/expertadvice/articles/ultralight+backpacking.html

Baby Profile Pics

There are way too many people putting baby pictures on their profile. What's up with that? I mean not pictures of babies created by themselves or by others, but their own pictures from decades ago.

I posed this question a little while ago on Twitter. In the spirit of full disclosure I mentioned that I was guilty of the same for a period of a few weeks and I received a many (un)helpful responses from friends and family.

These are the responses:
Javed Shaikh - Well you could answer that yourself then :)2:01 am
darshan parikh - whose ur baby man?6:25 am
Mifrah Abid - what's up with people who do something and wonder when others do it too? :P5:36 pm

I did it then thinking that it seemed to be the norm. For now I will talk about others and why they do it. As I thought of this more in light of the above comments, I made two observations:

a) It's usually, no almost exclusively guys who are doing this
b) They are not really baby pics, but toddler pics or pics from when they just started going to school.

I have put 2 + 2 together and this is my conclusion: Guys, despite appearances to the contrary, are pretty vain. They want to look good out there on the internet. You never know who is stalking or looking at your pics, right? I mean you can photoshop the hell out of your pics, or get a nice photographer to take a studio pic, but then that looks too staged and you can easily be found out.

Most guys my age are either in the process of balding or greying and don't think that adds much to their sex appeal. On the other side of this equation of balding, slightly pot-bellied males are the girls. Now, barring a few rare exceptions (I know a few myself) girls are naturally attracted to babies. If you placed Brad Pitt, or whoever is current-hunk-of-the-moment, and a pudgy baby dribbling all over itself in a white diaper, the baby will win the attention of the women around.

So, the smart guys have decided to show themselves at their appealing best by posting pics when they were babies, but still distinguishable as an individual. In one fell swoop, you solve all the problems plaguing your current face in the mirror.

Prelude Etude

@ T. S. Eliot

The frost on the windows accumulates
No feet yet sound in the passageways.
Six o'clock.
The chewed-out pens from thoughts.
And now out a notebook fall
The paper scraps
Printout arrayed across the floor
And cars arrive in vacant lots;
The sound of feet
On empty blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
The shop opens its doors to coffee smells.
And then the extinguishing of the lamps.

(October, 2009)

Note: This should have been posted months ago. Discovered this dog-eared page in my Drafts folder. Graduate student days are now distant, but night outs for the final push to get the paper out of the door aren't.

Free lunch?

Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch.
- Orson Welles

Playlist on the 19th of May from WEMU

This was one of the best hours of music on WEMU. Really obscure selections, but they worked so well together. Now, I have to track them down.

  • One More Thad's Pad Music Of Thad Jones IPO 11:07:04AM
  • Sheryl Bailey With The Three Rivers Jazz Orchestra Carenia A New Promise MCG JAZZ 11:11:53AM
  • Suzy Bogguss Chain Lover Sweet Danger LDR 11:21:14AM
  • Madeleine Peyroux I'm All Right Half The Perfect World ROUNDER 11:24:03AM
  • Steve Cardenas The Horse You Rode In On West Of Middle PALMETTO 11:27:25AM
  • Charlie Hunter Ode To My Honda Odyssey Gentlemen, I Neglected To Inform You, You Will Not Be Getting Paid SPIRE ARTISTS MEDIA 11:31:10AM
  • Thornetta Davis That's A Pretty Good Love Thornetta Davis Covered Live At The Music Menu LADY T 11:34:56AM
  • Ella Fitzgerald With The Duke Ellington Orchestra Cottontail Ella Fitzgerald: The Concert Years (Disc 1) PABLO 11:41:22AM
  • Anat Cohen What A Little Moonlight Can Do Clarinetwork: Live At The Village Vanguard ANZIC 11:46:43AM
  • Hot Club Of Detroit For Stephane It's About That Time MACK AVENUE 11:54:02AM

Underground Gourmet

Was at the Subway yesterday, and it was a bit too busy for a Sunday afternoon. Those of your who know me, I feel that I am sinning each time I step into a fast-food joint. According to some of my friends, Subway being healthy does not even count as a 'fast-food' restaurant.

I was standing there waiting to order my Veggie delight with 'everything' (why not?) and there was this guy deliberating over his 'choices'. I found it rather amusing that he had a particular preference of a "Don't want it toasted. Put a few onions, tomatoes, no pickle", and "Please put some more dressing on the side of the sandwich". Then the guy after him in the line, was also equally demanding. I was standing there wondering if I was doing something wrong ordering everything.

What's going to kill me is to see a MacDonald's gourmet. I guess we can pick our poison. Me? I'll have everything!

Soccer or football?

It’s called “football” because you KICK THE BALL WITH YOUR FEET.
Unlike American Football WHERE YOU MAINLY THROW THE BALL WITH YOUR HANDS.

The above was a comment made on The World website on the Language of Soccer.

Americans call the English usage of football jargon as snobbery. The English look down on the American-style of soccer lacking finesse and players being just 'hunks of meat'. It does go beyond just the language. It's about a cultural class between Europe and America. A stereotypical European view is to see Americans as loud, lacking taste and dressing badly. In America, soccer is considered mostly a sport for women. It's no small wonder that the Americans have dominated the women's game. In American, real men play football.

America has a long way to go before it gets being a dominant world power in football, so till that happens I think it's fair to call it football.

Humor as a sign of maturity

I thought it applied only to individuals, but the Economist extends the view for countries too,

"Self-deprecating humour is the ultimate sign of emotional and political maturity, just as a rabid prickliness is typically a sign of unresolved complexes about superiority, inferiority, and lack of attention from the outside world."
From the Economist: Eastern Approaches

Simple Pleasures

I remarked to some of my friends the other day that one of the greatest pleasures in life is to shave with a nice new razor, warm water and lots of foam. I was told, "I am too easily pleased". Yes, perhaps. Tony Hoagland has news for you.

I Have News For You

...

...

Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon?
There are some people, unlike me and you,

who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as
unattainable as that moon;
thus, they do not later
have to waste more time
defaming the object of their former ardor.

Or consequently run and crucify themselves
in some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha.

I have news for you—
there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room

and open a window to let the sweet breeze in
and let it touch them all over their faces and bodies.

- Tony Hoagland

Why they went

from Why They Went
by Elizabeth Bradfield

that men might learn what the world is like at the spot where the sun does not decline in the heavens.

—Apsley Cherry-Garrard

....

That all we had to do was show up.

The sun rolled along the horizon. The light never left them.
The air from their warm mouths became diamonds.
And they longed for everything they did not have.
And they came home and longed again.

The Prime of Mr. Hirak Parikh

At exactly 2245 EST, which is 0815 IST, the digits on my clock will flip. No ordinary flip this one. Thirty rotations round the sun to be exact. In a sense it's just another day, right? That was pretty much the whole point of James Joyce's Ulysses (He did take his time to describe it though). The beauty of an ordinary day. Unlike Stephen Daedalus, I am trying to confront the possibility of an extraordinary day.

But why 30? Technically speaking it's the 30th anniversary, but my 31st birthday (0-based counting rocks!). On some level, it's special, though in terms of other units of time counted it's rather quotidian -
* it is 10,956 days, 15 hours, 45 minutes and 0 seconds or
* 29 years, 11 months, 29 days, 15 hours, 45 minutes
* 946,655,100 seconds
* 15,777,585 minutes
* 262,959 hours (rounded down)
* 1565 weeks (rounded down)
Courtesy: www.timeanddate.com

Then again, in term of SI units - another day to celebrate is 1E9 seconds on the planet which is about 31.6887646 years. So, somewhere in February 2012? For most people their billionth second on earth passes by in an instant, without fanfare or even the slightest notice. Given that our lives revolve on the order of days, this significant moment just passes by. I can take solace in the fact, that I am not that old, yet!

Still 30 is unique not because it signals the end of the 20s, or the end of my salad days, but for a curious fact that '30' is the largest possible product of first few consecutive primes.
1x2x3x5=30.

The next possible combination is 1x2x3x5x7=210 which seems out of the realm of human longevity.

I take this as divine sign from the God of Numbers that this year is the prime(s) of my life. So the BIG '3 and 0' is really an important marker.

Goodbye 20s, Welcome Hirak 3.0.

Bad news: More grey hair
Good news: We are out of beta. Way, way out of beta...

Slowing Time

From ee cumming's 9

there are so many tictoc
clocks everywhere telling people
what toctic time it is for
tictic instance five toc minutes toc
past six tic

Top of a Monday morning and I get this poem in my inbox. Like most ee cummings (with him one is never quite sure of the orthography) poems, the real subject of the poem is always something else. Words and kisses are inserted like punctuation marks, making us re-read the lines again. Time slows. The tics and tocs in our head slow down. Then after reading the poem a third time it all makes sense: Who speaks in full sentences while kissing? And doesn't time slow down when you kiss?
because tic clocks toc don't make
a toctic difference
to kisskiss you and to
kiss me