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9 December 2011
31 October 2011
24 October 2011
23 October 2011
6 October 2011
11 August 2011
8 August 2011
6 August 2011
4 August 2011
3 August 2011
Getting ready. Προετοιμασία.
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| H Proetimasia, ink on 'Kraft' paper, 2011 |
~~~~~~~~To zoom in, please click on images~~~~~~~~~~~
Instructions on how to make your own Moleskin -type notebook
2 August 2011
1 August 2011
31 July 2011
Λίγο πριν τον Αύγουστο...
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| Tree, 2011 |
Ἡ καρδιά μας
Ἡ καρδιά μας εἶναι ἕνα κῦμα ποὺ δὲν σπάει στὴν ἀκρογιαλιά.
Ποιὸς μαντεύει τὴ θάλασσα, ἀπ᾿ ὅπου βγαίνει ἡ καρδιά μας;
Ἀλλὰ εἶναι ἡ καρδιά μας ἕνα κῦμα μυστικό, χωρὶς ἀφρό.
Βουβὰ πιάνει μία στεριά.
Καὶ ἀθόρυβα σκαλίζει τὸ ἀνάγλυφο ἑνὸς πόθου,
ποὺ δὲν ξέρει ἀπογοήτευση καὶ ἀγνοεῖ τὴν ἡσυχία.
Γιῶργος Σαραντάρης
30 July 2011
28 July 2011
26 July 2011
24 July 2011
The path
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| Traveling, acrylics on prepared paper, 2011 I'll tell you a big secret, my friend: Don't wait for the Last Judgment. It happens every day. |
22 July 2011
19 July 2011
18 July 2011
17 July 2011
15 July 2011
13 July 2011
10 July 2011
7 July 2011
4 July 2011
1 July 2011
29 June 2011
27 June 2011
Horsefield
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| Horsefield, acrylic, oil pastel, charcoal pencil |
Forget the suffering
You caused others.
Forget the suffering
Others caused you.
The waters run and run,
Springs sparkle and are done,
You walk the earth you are forgetting.
Sometimes you hear a distant refrain.
What does it mean, you ask, who is singing?
A childlike sun grows warm.
A grandson and a great-grandson are born.
You are led by the hand once again.
The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.
Czeslaw Milosz
Και για μένα δεν προσεύχομαι μοναχά,
Αλλά για όλους, αυτούς που στάθηκαν μαζί μου στη σειρά
Στη ζέστα του Ιούλη, στο ψύχος του χειμώνα
Κάτω από τον τόσο κόκκινο, τον τοίχο, κι αθώρητο ακόμα.
Αλλά για όλους, αυτούς που στάθηκαν μαζί μου στη σειρά
Στη ζέστα του Ιούλη, στο ψύχος του χειμώνα
Κάτω από τον τόσο κόκκινο, τον τοίχο, κι αθώρητο ακόμα.
Άννα Αχμάτοβα
26 June 2011
Pinetree
Καὶ θυμᾶμαι τὸν ἥλιο ποὺ γελοῦσε
Πού γελοῦσε καὶ δάκρυζε θυμᾶμαι
Γιῶργος Σαραντάρης
Pinetree, water colour
for Michael Longley
As a child, they could not keep me from wells
And old pumps with buckets and windlasses.
I loved the dark drop, the trapped sky, the smells
Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss.
One, in a brickyard, with a rotted board top.
I savoured the rich crash when a bucket
Plummeted down at the end of a rope.
So deep you saw no reflection in it.
A shallow one under a dry stone ditch
Fructified like any aquarium.
When you dragged out long roots from the soft mulch
A white face hovered over the bottom.
Others had echoes, gave back your own call
With a clean new music in it. And one
Was scaresome, for there, out of ferns and tall
Foxgloves, a rat slapped across my reflection.
Now, to pry into roots, to finger slime,
To stare, big-eyed Narcissus, into some spring
Is beneath all adult dignity. I rhyme
To see myself, to set the darkness echoing.
Seamus Heaney
Personal Helicon
Όποιος ποτέ του δεν αγάπησε, θ' αγαπήσει, στο φως...
Γιώργος Σεφέρης
25 June 2011
Bluehorse
Ὕπαρξη,
Δῶρο στὴν ἁγνή μας οὐσία
Γιῶργος Σαραντάρης
Bluehorse, (watercolour, charcoal pencil, ink, pastel)
Memory believes before knowing remembers.
William Faulkner
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