The Spectre of Aphrodite

I, am the spectre of Aphrodite. While we’re duelling at the summit of her high temple, you shall either murder me, or I will haunt you till your death. Both endings I welcome with all due respect and modesty.

Published in: on 15/06/2013 at 1:36 PM  Leave a Comment  

Chopin, Music and the Blue Ocean

Philosophy and Music – Chopin’s music cannot be classified into conventional categories, for their elegance lie in an unique fashion – they’re not elegant in the grandeur or realistic manner of the British sensibilities, nor are they free in the naturalistic and somewhat impressionistic ways of the French, but are rather close to the Russians, in that they are somewhat symmetrical, structured geometrically, yet in this geometry of rationality, Chopin’s notes exhausts the artistic palette of human existence. In a way, Chopin corresponds to a ‘compatibilist’ view of free will. My personal preference is still the picturesque blue ocean that is calm and fair, in the middle of the night with the moonlight reflecting off the waters, this reminds me of Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto. However, generally the Romantic composers are varied in a broadened landscape – the German composer Schubert is a fine example. Berlioz on the other hand, is definitely not my cup of tea, for its heaviness already exhausts me, it burdens me and puts me into a state of nausea; but I love Beethoven, for Beethoven is perhaps the powerful explorer who gave himself to music, he walked from the Classical into the Romantic, powerful but not heavy – light indeed, punchy, disciplined yet fiery, a burning passion reins; he is efficient, far more efficient than Berlioz and the like, for they’re less powerful even with a heavy weight, but Beethoven can utilise all of his notes into energy, into bursts of light, of art. And for me, the absolute freedom of Sartre is always in presence, so perhaps it is Satie, Debussy, and these dark violet passieurs which really soothes me.

Published in: on 02/06/2013 at 5:00 PM  Leave a Comment  

The Strangeness, The Past

What is this strange feeling? – I used to be much better, I was much more productive. As I stared at my forgotten paintings, I am in awe, I am aghast, at my past self, the strange ‘self’. Is that me? Did I abandon myself? Who is this philosopher? Why is philosophy suddenly like a mother who abandoned her child when he was born? I see the professional philosophers as strangers at this instant, I feel my soul bursting against closed walls, in this abyssal segregation. Am I writing this, simply as a piece of habit? I now hear Rodrigo’s concerto[1], I see my memories, sealed away and the reminiscent flames burning at the distant sea. This estrangement! This ghostly phase! This reflection in the mirror! Who am I? Who am I – am I a philosopher? But what is a philosopher? What is this strange feeling? When philosophers seem not philosophers, intellectuals seem not intellectuals, a gardener seem not a gardener a teacher seem not a teacher…

The Artist hears her voice, he cannot escape yet he is far far away… Oh Lord! Even the colours, the colours seem so strange. The light, the sound, the coldness; everything, every passing moment – is there a moment? Where do I lie? What do I see? Where shall I go? Where is  my home? Oh my friends my friends, my love, my eyes! I see my eyes! Those eyes that stare at me with the bleakness of a stranger! With contempt, with sadness, those melancholic eyes, filled with blueness, with a maroon tint. I am dead. I am alive! I am from the heaven and from the earth! I am the devil at lost with man! The blood and the passion, they run towards the finale of the crowd! I am gone. Let it come! Let the tsunami crush down on the land, I hear a flute singing in the distant sea! I sense my soul rejoined with my master’s, with that of the music! Oh! How grand, how lively! Let all the waters wash away this day, let it sooth my soul and my memories. Let the harmonic transcend the self – and bring him back, bring me home.

The traveller…

[1] The first movement, for the Adagio would shatter me.

Published in: on 02/06/2013 at 4:54 PM  Leave a Comment