Adrienne Rich, from “Tonight No Poetry Will Serve”
from proustitute
Barbara Mullen, New York. Harper’s Bazaar, circa 1950
Farewell Lillian Bassman [June 15, 1917 - February 13, 2012] You will be missed.
[more of her work here]
Wislawa Szymborska, from “I’m Working on the World” in Poems New and Collected, trans. S. Baranczak and C. Cavanagh
thanks to proustitute
La Décadence, 1970 by Sibylle Ruppert [ 1942-2011]
courtesy of HR Giger Museum & wurzeltod [also @ Feuilleton and MonsterBrains]
RIP Leonora Carrington [April 6, 1917 – May 25, 2011]
Collage portrait from 1987 by Kati Horna
From The Mylar Chamber series, late 60s
RIP Ira Cohen [ February 3, 1935 – April 25, 2011]
with thanks to 50 watts [more @ Phantomly Oracula, Guardian & Culture24]
Anita Berber, the 29 year old dancer, actress and ‘wild-child’ of the Weimar cabaret era, died on this day in 1928. She was buried in a paupers grave in St. Thomas Friedhof in the Neukoln district of Berlin. The cemetery is now disused and her grave, gone.
” Only thrill-seeking transvestite couples from the Eldorado nightclub, some sombre journalists and intellectuals in top hats, a couple of film directors, the German sexolologist Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, and immediate relatives from the Berber clan attended. Henri Chatin-Hoffman…. and his latest dance partner watched from afar. The intimate and bohemian ceremony that was planned had to be curtailed due to a nonstop rainfall”
The Seven Addictions and Five Professions of Anita Berber – Mel Gordon
from Cabaret Berlin [more Anita]
photo could be by Madame D’Ora [see this one]
confirmed by frenchtwist,thanks;]
What?How?Why?!
RIP.you will be missed…..
liquidnight:I’m stunned. What a tragic loss…RIP.
News via nevver:Dead at 31, Chris Al-Aswad (Escape into Life & The Blog of Innocence)
Paul Eluard wrote a poem in homage to Man Ray:
The storm of a robe which falls
Then a simple body without clouds
So come and tell me all your charms
You who have had your share of happiness
And who often bewails the dismal fate of the one who made you so happy
You who have no desire to reason
You who knew not how to create a man
Without loving anotherIn the ebb and flow of a body which undresses
Akin to the breast of twilight
The eye forms in line on the neglected dunes
Where the fountains hold naked hands within their claws
Vestiges of bare forehead pale cheeks beneath the eyelashes of the horizon
A rocket-like tear betrothed to the past
To know that light was fertile
Childish swallows mistake the earth for the skyThe dark room where the stones of cold are bare
Do not say you have no fear
Your look is level with my shoulder
You are too lovely to preach chastityIn the dark room where even the wheat
is born of greedinessRemain unmoving
And you are alone*******
Photo by Man Ray of Eluard, Nusch and friends…
it’s a beautiful poem and photo too,thanks i12bent
i12bent: By a strange coincidence Marcel Proust, Paul Eluard and Man Ray all died on November 18 - albeit in different years…
Man Ray of course famously photographed Proust on his death bed, 1922 - above:
“Ravaged by bronchitis and pneumonia, Marcel Proust spent the last night of his life dictating manuscript changes for a section of his famous novel Remembrance of Things Past.
Man Ray did not know Proust, but he had become such an important photographer that mutual friends dispatched him to the celebrated French author’s bedside to make a final portrait two days after his death. The side view associates Man Ray’s photograph with a tradition of postmortem photography dating back to the inception of the medium.” (Source - The Getty)