I Dreamed I Was Awake

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth

Brassai | Darris Golinski | Kathleen O'Dwyer | Khalil Gibran

Brassai

Hungarian photographer Brassai
The stark photographs of Hungarian-French Brassai, in collections like 'The Secret Paris of the 30's' captures the theatre of existence.

The sexuality, the joy, the humanity, the depravity and the stark transient reality of the lived moment.
Part of a remarkable group of writers and artists including Salvador Dalí, Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Alberto Giacometti, Henry Miller (photo, second row, extreme right below), Jean Genet and Jacques Prevert, Brassai photographed and wrote about them and the demi-monde of artists, whores and the flotsam and jetsam of humanity thrown up on the shore of Paris's streets and bars.
His technique was cumbersome. He decided who and what he wanted to photograph; set up a camera on a tripod and waited...until his subjects became so fed with waiting they stopped posing. Then Brassai opened the shutter and flashed!! Only one take possible of any picture. The light bright and theatrical. The drama of the moment locked in black and white. The photographer as voyeur. And what are YOU looking at?
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When I Was A Mod

WHEN I WAS A MOD
Darris Golinski

When I was a mod, aged about fifteen, Saturday nights was a dance hall above Burton's tailors in Uxbridge. It was just known as Burtons, and it was the place to be.
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Bands like Geno Washington and the Ram Jam Band, and Cliff Bennett and the Rebel Rousers. Blues, dexys and bombers were obligatory.

There was a lot of snappy dressing and some snappy peacock dancing by some of the older boys, but most of the dancing was done by girls standing in circles with their handbags in the middle. Us less brave lads would snake around the dance floor in lines about six long with our hands in our mohair suit pockets trying to 'look 'ard'.

About four of five numbers from the end the band would play a 'buckle shiner' - a slow number that you could smooch to with a girl and get your belt buckle shined. There was a girl I had had my eye on all evening, and I asked her to dance, and she said yes.
We were up close dancing with our arms round each other, and she said in my ear 'What's your favourite colour?'. I said 'I dunno. 'Aven't really got one. What's yours?'. She said 'I ain't got one neither'. 'So what'd you ask me for then?'. 'Dunno. Somefing to say, innit?'

I wonder where she is now. and I wonder why that came back to me. She wasn't stupid, I don't think (I never saw her or talked to her again), and she was very good looking. I think it was just the age we were, desperately wanted to be with members of the opposite sex, but hadn't got a clue what to say or do next. Doubt if things have fundamentally changed that much.

Is Love An Art?

Kathleen O’Dwyer

Kathleen O’Dwyer asks if we can learn how to love, with Erich Fromm and friends.

“For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation”
Rainer Maria Rilke.

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it” Jelaluddin Rumi

> Read or print this article in full (PDF)

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Photo: Robert Doisneau
At the Café, Chez Fraysse, Rue de Seine, Paris, 1958

Khalil Gibran

THE SPRINGTIME OF LOVE

Life without love is like a tree
barren of blossom and fruit.

And love without beauty
is like flowers without scent
and fruits without seeds.

Life, love and beauty
are one independent
and absolute trinity,
which cannot be
separated or changed.