Author Teju Cole, raising the bar
Egyptian protestors shine laser lights on a military helicopter flying over the presidential palace in Cairo, on June 30, 2013, as hundreds of thousands of demonstrators gather during a protest calling for the ouster of President Mohamed Morsi.
See more. [Credit: Mohamed Abd El Ghany/Reuters, Khaled Desouki/AFP/Getty Images]
I’ve been thinking about this portrait of Camille Claudel for a long time, especially since seeing her sculpture, L’Age Mûr, in person at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris with B, D, and J this spring. I can barely stop thinking about her, her expression, her eyes and mouth, the idea of this expression of hers being at the very front of a life-long obsession. I feel both haunted and dared by this photo, known and unknown by it. In order to exorcise some beast of my own, and to indulge in my own staring at something I think is so beautiful I can never actually see it, I’m drawing my own portraits of her. It is a doomed practice of true empathy. Every drawing can look nothing like her. Nothing can look anything like her. So every attempt will be a failure. These are my first four failures. This is kind of what writing poems feels like to me.
You should have heard by now from the news and at twitter about what happened in my country…
I don’t care if it’s not your blog type. Reblog this shit
“Choke on it.”—
Client note on late PayPal payment
“The voice has a single eye whose vision is / nonetheless binocular.”—
Elizabeth Robinson in The Boston Review
For more by Elizabeth Robinson,...