Issue 6

YEAR I ISSUE 6 AÑO I NÚMERO 6

YAREAH E N G LMAGAZINE I S H / E S PA Ñ O L LOST WORDS

APRIL 2009 ABRIL 2009

PALABRAS PERDIDAS

ISSN 1989-3191

Ugliness Fealdad

LITERATURE/LITERATURA

Poetry / Poesía Fiction / Relatos

ARTS / ARTE

Entrevista Museums / Museos

Gardens / Jardines

Reviews / Criticas

MY THS / MITOS PICTURES by Laura Valentino and Mark Smalley

YAREAH MAGAZINE

Laura Valentino Desire- gum bichromate print - 38x55 cm - 2008

YAREAH MAGAZINE LITERATURE LITERATURA Ugliness, Fealdad. Martín Cid, Niels-Jeroen Vandamme, Emma Alvarez, Leah Whitehorse, Cecilia Ulrich, Paula Mariani, William P. Meyers, Alix Otoole, Richard Brennan, Keith Higginson.

Lost Paradises / Paraísos Perdidos. Silvia Cuevas Mostacero The Epiphany of Leonard's Toenails. Mark A. Rayner El Pasajero de la Noche. Jose María Ortega Sanz.

Poetry/Poesía. Elaine Magliaroon, Rachel Dacus, Miguel Ángel Valero López, Víctor Corcoba Herrero.

arts

auty? / ¿Quién son feos? ¿Y perial succession. Tony Keen. guapos? Isabel del Río.

Perversiones, mentiras y cinArtists of the Month / Artistas tas de vidrio. Rodrigo del mes. Mark Smalley, Laura Martín Valentino.

Artesanos / Crafts. Macarena Music Paz Fuentes and Bo. MUSICA Interview/ Entrevista. David McDowell.

Hossam Hassan The Hard Work of an Artist.

The Atlantis String Quartet Amy Bernays Little Great Museums/Pequeños Grandes Museos. DLI MuReviews seum and Durham Art Gallery.

Royal Tyrrell Museum of CRTICAS Drumheller, Canada.

Shelley, Nair and Lawrence.

Magic Gardens/Jardines MáUllattil Manmadhan gicos. The Alphabet of trees Un Siglo de Cenizas, de Mar(IV), Reloj de Flores tin Cid. Jose Maria Ortega Sanz

myths arte

Who are Ugly? Who is Be-

SUMMARY SUMARIO

HOMO SVM: HVMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENVM PVTO mitos Juan Ignacio Guglieri

Claudius, Nero, and the Im-

Yareah Magazine / Revista Yareah

ll of the works included in the Yareah Magazine are propiety by the respective authors. Do not redistribute any of them without the permission of their respective owners.

Yareah Magazine.

Todos los textos y sus respectivos derechos son propiedad de los autores. No redistribuir sin el consentimiento de los mismos.

Revista Yareah.

A

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (I) In 1160, being Louis VII king of France, the new bishop of Paris, Maurice de Sully, decided to demolish St Stephen (4th century) and to build a new fantastic cathedral. Pope Alexander III laid the foundation stone in 1163 since “Notre Dame” was going to be the parish of the Kings of Europe.

En 1160, durante el reinado de Luis VII, el nuevo obispo de París, Mauricio de Sully, decide derribar San Esteban (siglo IV) y levantar una nueva y colosal catedral. El mismo Papa Alejandro III puso la primera piedra en 1163 ya que “Notre Dame” iba a ser la parroquia de los reyes de Europa.

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opinions - opiniones

La fascinacion de la paradoja: Dorian Gray Martín Cid

Desde Ricardo III hasta Otelo, desde el que vivía en los alto de una catedral hasta el que en monstruos sus jardines alojaba..., desde el hijo de la serpiente tuberculoso hasta las lamias que florecen serenas en esos tus sueños más perversos.

M

uchas veces la iniquidad les corrompe, otras muchas un lord Henry seducirá a un jovenzuelo que se finge inocente, que se retuerce bello y que se imagina al fin persona. Es una piel de zapa travestida y un animal encerrado en el cuerpo de un hombre... el lobo con piel de cordero que nos aguarda y despacio nos fascina y nos lleva junto a su rostro siempre agraciado hacia las esquinas ignotas de lo malsano.

El retrato que el artista pinta está compuesto a base de ironías, de esas paradojas que tanto gustaban a su contertulio lord Henry. El joven Dorian se perderá en la vida del monstruo, en la existencia de la perversidad y su cuadro permanece oculto, llenándose de fealdad y miedo y sombras. Apenas en las últimas páginas obtenemos una descripción física, apenas en los últimos momentos somos conscientes que también nosotros hemos ido de la mano junto a nuestro joven protagonista, sumergiéndonos cada vez más en esos sus pecados que ahora, por fin, ya son los nuestros.

Me finjo mujer cual Tiresias y me imagino encerrada en mi cueva junto al cachorro de lobo que de mi vientre ha nacido. Con sus garras se abrió paso

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entre mis entrañas y me desgarró.

Le duele la belleza al duque jorobado de la novela del argentino.

Las páginas se suceden y aquéllos que la mentira han creado se apartan, porque el monstruo yace en un sótano pintado de miel y sangre. ¿Fealdad? Dorian Gray se pasea entre los clubes para caballeros y frecuenta a las damas más elegantes. ¿Quién conoce ahora lo que su alma impropia oculta?

No podemos dejar de leer, ¿qué será de nuestro pequeño lobezno? Es un ser cruel y despreciable, desquiciado y mezquino... ¿Por qué no podemos dejar de buscar sus fauces y desear fervientes sus besos secos? Calla la bestia que con tanto celo amamanto, la bestia que un día me destruirá.

Lo he visto en un lienzo.

Nuestro alter-ego camina entre las páginas y se pierde en los espejos de tiempo: ya no se siente cercano al príncipe y se refugia en lo alto de un campanario y en la esquina más oscura del palacio imperial. Sólo él lo sabe, sólo el artista conoce el secreto del eterno jorobado.

Su cuerpo está cubierto de pústulas que nadie puede ver, su rostro henchido de heridas... su espalda curva y sus ojos inyectados en sangre.

Intenta balbucear algo pero otra vez es interrumpido.

Otra vez los ojos que no pueden ver.

Otra vez la paradoja.

Otra vez la belleza sonríe.

Maldita.

Falsa.

Perfecta.

Martín Cid

Martín C i d nació e n Oviedo el 26 de junio de 1976. Novelista y autor de dos novelas (“Ariza”, 2007 editorial AlMartín Cid calá y “Un Siglo de Ce- http://www.martincid.com nizas”, 2008 editorial Akrón), ha publicado en numerosos medios electrónicos y en papel.

Se dedica a tiempo completo a la literatura, desde la escritura no sólo de novela sino de ensayos y artículos de corte estrictamente literario.

Nunca ha trabajado (ni lo hará) en otra actividad que la estrictamente literaria.

Es director de la revista literario-cultural Yareah (http://www.yareah.com).

Orgulloso fumador de pipa.

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Beauty is Complexity

Niels-Jeroen Vandamme Niels-Jeroen Vandamme Beauty is no more and no less than the de I was born gree of complexity of paerns; any paerns, in 1990 in whatever they may be. In everything there are Ostend, and upon graduapaerns; in fact, everything consists of pat - ting from science/materns. "Paerns" does not have to mean thematics at high school in symmetry, as paerns often occur in lack of 2006 have Niels-Jeroen Vanbeen highly damme symmetry, ie asymmetry. Whether or not preoccupied http://cloudscape.blogswith philopirit.com/ those paerns appeal to us is merely a maer sophy, as well as with science and art. I have since spent my time of perception. with writing, drawing, poetry and photo-

H

owever, complexity is not always obvious and may occur in subtle ways, as some things, such as a color, may appear simple and yet actually trigger complex impressions or emotions.

Simplicity in itself may be complex.

There is beauty in all things; but some things are more beautiful t h a n

others because there are more things to be perceived within them. In other words, though all existence is beautiful, there is more existence in some things than in others. Things which can be divided into more parts are more complex, and so more beautiful.

There is beauty in all things; but some things are more beautiful than others because there are more things to be perceived w i t h i n them. In other words, though all existence is beautiful, there is more

Mark Smalley Mayan God

graphy, constantly feeling the overpowering necessity to create. For most of my life I have suffered from mood disorders, which became worse in puberty. At the age of 9, I was labelled "intellectually gifted." A high sensitivity brought me through periods of severe depression and mania. During these, I became intensely confronted with myself and the way of the world, in such way as I feel gave me increased insight.

existence in some things than in others.

Things which can be divided into more parts are more complex, and so more beautiful.

For instance, from a purely graphical point of view, a detailed drawing is more beautiful than an rough sketch because more shades of grey are to be distinguished in it. On the other hand, from an expressive point of view a rough sketch may be just as beautiful or more so, depending rather on the shades of emotion that are to be distinguished in them.

If all existence is beautiful, and we life to exist, then we life for beauty. The more we find beauty in our lives, then, the more we will exist. Thus, choose whatever path that feels most beautiful.

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Mary Shelley and her Frankenstein

Emma Alvarez

It was in a friends reunion where the British writer Mary Shelley conceived Frankenstein.

In that reunion, they agreed to write a number of horror stories. One of those present was Lord Byron.

L

ord Byron proposed this brilliant challenge, in the middle of a stormy night.

The semi-human monster was born in the shape of a Gothic novel, being Frankenstein one of the most inspiring characters both in literature as well as in cinema and theater.

Frankenstein shows not only a terrifying being, of great ugliness. Frankenstein is the embodiment of the eternal doubt of where is the line between ethics and morality against science. It is the incarnation of the theft of the divine power to give life.

The main character of the novel is a young medicine student that joins several parts of corpses and builds a creature that is far away from the canon of beautifulness.

He gets to give life to this creature. But he feels terrible remorse for this, and decides to finalize the project. But it's too late, the monster fled, and the resentment against humanity grows inside him, to an humanity that created him and now rejects him.

The novel was subtitled Mark Smalley Don Juan

"The Modern Prometheus". If we remember, Prometheus was a character from the Greek mythology, benefactor of humanity, and punished by the gods for stealing their fire. This way, Mary Shelley compares doctor Frankenstein with Prometheus, as both stole a divine power: Prometheus the fire, and doctor Frankenstein the power to give life.

But the young doctor Frankenstein was not punished by the gods, he was punished by his own acts, his game of being a god turns against himself. Being this fear a constant and silent thought inside every scientific advance.

The fear of how much costs to play to be God.

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (II) Numerous architects worked on “Notre Dame of Paris” during the construction long period and this is evident if we pay attention at the differing styles. The famous rose window was finished in 1220, the towers in 1245 and the cathedral was completed around 1345.

Muchos arquitectos trabajaron en “Notre Dame de París” durante el largo periodo de construcción y esto se evidencia si nos fijamos en los diferentes estilos. El famoso rosetón fue terminado en 1220, las torres en 1245 y la catedral se completó hacia 1345.

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Mary Shelley y su Frankenstein Fue en una reunión de amigos donde la escritora inglesa Mary Shelley concibió a Frankenstein.

En esa reunión se acordó escribir una serie de historias de terror.

Otro de los presentes fue Lord Byron.

L

ord Byron fue el que propuso este brillante desafío, en medio de una noche de tormenta.

El monstruo semihumano vio la luz en forma de novela gótica, siendo Frankenstein uno de los personajes más inspiradores tanto en literatura, como en cine y teatro.

Frankenstein no muestra sólo a un ser terrorífico, de gran fealdad. Frankenstein es la materialización de la eterna duda sobre dónde está la línea de lo moral y lo ético frente a la ciencia. Es la materialización del robo del poder divino que otorga la vida.

El personaje principal de la novela es un joven estudiante de medicina que une distintas partes de cadáveres y crea una criatura muy lejos de los cánones de belleza.

A esa criatura logra darle vida. Pero siente unos terribles remordimientos, y decide finalizar el proyecto. Pero es tarde, el monstruo ha huido y en él crece el rencor a la humanidad, una humanidad que lo ha creado y lo rechaza.

La novela se subtitula "El Moderno Prometeo". Si recordamos, Prometeo es un personaje de la mitología griega benefac-

Laura Valentino Hand on Neck - archival ink jet print - 20x18.5 cm - 1999

tor de la humanidad y castigado por los dios que se vuelve contra él. Siendo este dioses por robarles el fuego. Así, Mary temor un pensamiento constante y silenShelley compara al doctor Frankenstein cioso dentro de cualquier avance cientícon Prometeo, ya que ambos roban un fico. El temor poder dide v i n o : P r o m e - Emma Alvarez is a professional digital artist, illustrator, and writer. teo el Some of her works and articles were featured in the fuego, y websites of the University of Barcelona, University el doctor of Minnesota, School of Computer Science of the F r a n - University of Carleton, Scott Guthrie's Blog (Corpokenstein rate Vice President of Microsoft)... el otor- She has several virtual galleries online, in which she gar la shows the multiple styles that she masters, from fantasy art to abstract, from landscape art to illusvida.

Pero al tration. Always interested in cultural research Emma Alvarez j o v e n and writing, she has published many articles on these subjects on her site www.emmaalva- http://www.emmaalvarez.com médico

Emma Alvarez

F r a n kenstein no le castigan los dioses, le castiga su propia obra, su juego a ser un

rez.com.

Emma Alvarez es artista digital profesional, ilustradora, y escritora.

Algunos de sus trabajos y artículos fueron destacados en los sitios web de la Universidad de Barcelona, la Universidad de Minnesota, La Escuela de Ciencias Computacionales de la Universidad de Carleton, el blog de Scott Guthrie (Vice Presidente Corporativo de Microsoft)...

Tiene varias galerías online, en las cuales muestra los múltiples estilos que domina, desde el arte fantástico al abstracto, desde el arte de paisajes a la ilustración.

Siempre interesada en la investigación cultural y la escritura, ha publicado muchos artículos sobre estas materias en su sitio www.emmaalvarez.com.

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The Hag Within

Leah Whitehorse

Amongst the various definitions in Merriam Webster's dictionary for the word 'witch' there are two in particular that stand out 2: an ugly old woman: hag 3: a charming or alluring girl or woman

I

was brought up on Grimm's Fairytales; afraid of the wicked witches in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty and the ugly sisters in Cinderella. I hid behind the cushion when the Wicked Witch of the West appeared in The Wizard of Oz screeching "Come here my pretty" and yet was silently curious about magic and spells.

The typical image of a witch is an ancient, wrinkled woman with warts on her face, a large hooked nose, bristles on her chin, straggly long hair and a merciless cackle. She is ugly and old, cantankerous and dangerous and certainly not to be trust e d .

T h e ugliness on the outside betrays the evil of her soul.

Beauty and Ugliness are o f t e n synonymous with good and evil in Mark Smalley Still Standing

many old stories. These are archetypal ted to both life and death through expeimages that despite any philosophy to- rience and age. She has been all things wards a more inclusive society, still prey and all things she becomes. In modern upon our basic fears and instincts. Whilst witchcraft we honour all aspects of the we know that in our daily lives beauty and Goddess, marking each with the phases ugliness cannot define the heart, there is of the Moon – Maid, Mother and Crone. still a prevalence that beauty is somehow We remember our connection to nature better. The rise and rise of plastic surgery and that Nature is a constant cycle of life, that keeps us looking young, the worship death and rebirth. of the rich and beautiful in the media sug- Whilst the image of the ugly hag may still gest that somehow we are still drawn to keep us company, I have seen the gradual this ancient symbolism. changing tide as I have grown older. WitBut what is it that connects witches to ches in the media have become powerful ugliness and old age? cult figures – Think Willow in Buffy and Throughout history women have tended the 'Charmed' series. Wisdom is available to have been put into one of four catego- to both the ordinary geek and the beauries – The Virgin, The Mother, The Prosti- tiful sisters, the lines have become blutute and The Hag. We are either innocent rred. We are no longer 'good' or 'evil' – creatures of beauty, givers of life, bewit- beautiful or ugly. ching sexual beings or fearful figures who I believe that in time we will learn to once live in the last house in the village (with again embrace the hag within each of us, lots of cats for good measure). As Paga- remember that we too will one day grow nism fell under the clutches of Christia- old and there is true magic in a life filled nity, aspects of the Goddess were with expedemonised. It was wrong to taste of kno- rience. wledge, wrong to be wise. Whilst the Virgin, The Mother and The Whore were given their parts in the Christian myths, the Crone found herself out in the cold. Not quite brave enough to Leah Whitehorse is banish her altogether, we humans a writer, musician astrologer found her a place in stories and in our and dreams. She became a forgotten part with a endless love for Portugal of our collective unconscious.

Leah Whitehorse The Crone is perhaps ugly because in and the Porhttp://www.leahwhitehorse.com tuguese lanthe West we have divorced ourselves g u a g e . http://www.inlovewithlisbon.com from death much as we have divorced Although liourselves from nature. The fight to stay ving in the UK, her spirit is called to her beloved young is the refusal to look death in the Lisbon. She is co-author of "Spellcaster: 7 Ways eye, meet it's gaze and say 'I accept to Effective Magic" and an adept dream interyou'. The Hag has power, she is connec- preter and tarot reader. An English rose with a

Leah Whitehorse

Portuguese heart and Gypsy soul.

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Anaikh (Fatalidad)

Cecilia Ulrich Victor Hugo emerge en primera persona en el prólogo de su obra, para contar cómo el hallazgo de esta palabra, escrita en griego sobre una pared de la catedral de Notre Dame, es génesis del libro Nuestra Se ñora de Paris.

E

n la mitología griega, Ananké sería la personificación de lo inevitable, la necesidad, lo inexorable. La fatalidad. Es asimismo la madre de las Moiras, las tres hermanas que asignaban a los seres su destino, mediante un hilo en el que determinaban los actos de la vida y el que llegada la hora de la muerte, cortaban con una tijera de oro.

En esta obra de Victor Hugo, los personajes convergen en torno a la catedral de Notre Dame, el otro gran personaje del libro, y la trama estalla cuando todos ellos son atravesados por el amor, o mejor dicho, por muy diferentes y hasta opuestas formas de amor. Este coro de almas, en razón de los objetos de sus paLaura Valentino siones, se ve involucrado en una Catharsis- gum bichromate print - 55x38 cm - 2008 batalla que tiene lugar no sólo en Paris, sino dentro de sus propios espíritus, de Notre Dame, quien llevó en su vientre entrelazándose en una red que se tensa a Quasimodo, el casi-hombre. Lo cuidó y página a página y en la que el claro y bri- lo protegió entre sus ladrillos, acunándolo llante color del hilo de sus destinos, se con el tañir de sus campanas, manteniéndolo a salvo del mundo que no sería Nacida en 1978 torna cada vez más oscuro. capaz de ver la verdadera belleza de su en la ciudad de Y es en este tejido de destinos donde enCampana, procontramos que quienes llevan la cualidad alma. Y nada pudo hacer el día que el jo- vincia de Buenos de la belleza física, resultan capaces de robado decidió nacer a esa otra vida, la Aires, República prodigar un amor juvenil, endeble y lírico; que tenía lugar más allá de su campana- Argentina. Cursó mientras que el ser más horrible, el salvaje rio, determinado no a conquistar su pie- estudios de Cecilia Ulrich más deforme, la fealdad mas extrema, es dra preciosa, sino a salvarla. El día que Derecho, en visitechechania@hotmail.com cuyo ámbito Ananké sopló sobre los hilos del destino quien ama en la forma más desinteredesemsada, férrea y admirable. El monstruo es de estos personajes, y los entrelazó en se peña laboralmente, y también cursó estudios de una historia de amor, belleza y adversidaen definitiva el que debe sufrir el error Letras. des.

Una historia con el poder de inspirarcomún de los hombres, que aman el En la actualidad se encuentra cursando la cacuerpo y no el carácter. Y como lo seña- nos a tomar nuestros propios hilos, y rrera de Redactora Especializada en el Instituto lara Platón en su Banquete, sólo éste úl- desafiar la fatalidad buscando el amor en Superior de Letras Eduardo Mallea., y es alumna timo posee estabilidad y puede dar lugar su forma más pura y perfecta, aunque y socia de la Alianza Francesa. habite desventurados monstruos. a una unión firme y duradera.

Sus trabajos literarios sólo han sido publicados en algunos espacios de la Web. Testigo de estas pasiones será la catedral

Cecilia Ulrich

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Paula Mariani

El Jorobado de Notre-Dame

Paula Mariani

Paula, conocida como Blue Fairy, es una coleccionista argentina de juguetes de hojalata: argentinos, japoneses, alemanes y de USA. También forman parte de su colección muñecos de goma de Rayito de Sol y Piel Rose y muPaula Mariani ñecos/juguetes de memorabilia/publicidades, películas, retro http://argentinatoycollector.blogspot.com/ argentinos e internacionales.

Actualmente se encuentra en la etapa de investigación para su próximo proyecto: una guía visual de los juguetes de hojalata argentinos de VISPA.

La novela “Nuestra Señora de París” fue escrita por Victor Hugo en 1831. La historia se desarrolla en el París de 1482 y cuenta la historia del campanero sordo Quasimodo, de Esmeralda la gitana y de Claude Frollo, el archidiácono que crió a Quasimodo.

Q

uasimodo es el jorobado de Notre Dame, abandonado de chico por los gitanos quien se aventura a vivir una vida diferente a la que quería su tutor para el. Durante sus escapadas de la rígida tutela, podríamos decir esclavitud, a la que está sometido, asiste a la Fiesta de los Locos donde es coronado rey de los Tontos debido a su fealdad y conoce a Esmeralda. Durante la novela fue héroe y villano indistintamente, mostrando una doble faceta que no lo diferencia mucho del resto de la humanidad.

La catedral de Notre Dame cumple en esta novela un papel relevante, y esto puede demostrarse desde el mismo título original en francés: Notre-Dame de Paris.

La característica arquitectura e historia de Notre Dame ha inspirado más de una notable leyenda. Podemos mencionar por ejemplo la suposición que la piedra filosofal fue escondida en su interior por el obispo de París, Guillermo de Auvernia. O que una de las gárgolas que se encuentra en la catedral, específicamente Striga, mira en dirección a un tesoro oculto como si fuera una perpetua y muda señal. No podemos dejar de notar YAREAH MAGAZINE

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que el nombre del célebre Nostradamus era en realidad una deformación latinizada de su verdadero apellido Nostredame o Notredame.

La historia de Cuasimodo según el libro no es ni remotamente tan tierna como se presenta en la película de Disney. En el relato de Victor Hugo, Quasimodo lleva una vida de torturas psicológicas y físicas y no existe un final feliz para sus penas.

Como resumen pueden leer este texto extractado: “… Quasimodo alzó entonces su ojo hacia la gitana de la que veía, a lo lejos, cómo su cuerpo, colgado en la horca, se estremecía aún, bajo su vestido blanco, con los últimos estertores de la agonía; después la dirigió de nuevo hacia el cuerpo del archidiácono, aplastado al pie de la torre, y ya sin forma humana, y exclamó con un sollozo que agitó su pecho desde lo más profundo. -¡Oh! ¡Todo lo que he amado!…”

Esmeralda, injustamente acusada por Frollo de la muerte de Febo y luego traicionada por este y entregada a la justicia es ajusticiada en la horca. Quasimodo luego de asesinar a Frollo, muere abrazado a Esmeralda como su fiel guardián

dispuesto a seguir cuidando de ella aún ante la inevitable separación.

Quasimodo amó y odió al extremo, llevado por las situaciones traumáticas que le tocó vivir. Vivió una vida de engaños, locura, y pasión frustrada que se transforma en un amor platónico que va más allá de la vida terrenal y se prolonga en un abrazo que cruza los umbrales de la muerte.

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (III) Notre Dame de Paris means “Our Lady of Paris”. It is located on the Île de la Cité, in the middle of the river Seine and represents one of the best examples of French Gothic architecture. In the 19th century, it was restored and saved of destruction by Viollet-le Duc, the author of its famous gargoyles.

Notre Dame de Paris significa “Nuestra Señora de Paris”. Se encuentra en la isla de la Cité, en medio del Sena, y es uno de los mejores ejemplos de la arquitectura gótica francesa. En el siglo XIX, fue restaurada y salvada de su inminente destrucción por Viollet-le Duc, autor de sus famosos gárgolas.

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Hugo the Puppy, Victor Hugo, and John Steinbeck

William P. Meyers

William P. Meyers Jan brought back a puppy from San Born in 1955 in North Carolina. FicDiego, a gift from her parents. It is tion and non-fiction have appeared in Northwest supposed to be a poodle crossed Passage, Ideas and Action, The the Industrial Worker, and with a Maltese, but he looks like a Stake, Coast Maganine, as well as at IIIPublishing.com. Cusmall poodle to me. I wanted to name rrently living near Point Arena, California. him Danton or Robespierre after the William P. Meyers French Revolution figures, but eventually we set - http://iiipublishing.blogspot.com/ tled on Hugo, after Victor Hugo, the author. Jan is a big Victor Hugo fan.

V

ictor Hugo's best known works include The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Les Miserables. In the latter work he alternates between chapters about Paris in general and chapters in which we follow the characters while the plot moves forward.

California author John Steinbeck used a similar pattern in The Grapes of Wrath, a justly famous book. I just finished reading it, for the fourth time in my life, this week.

Steinbeck had become famous upon publication of Tortilla Flat, a novel where questions of ethics are raised to high humor, but in which poverty is made to seem more fun than middle-class existence. But the poverty of Tortilla Flat is an established, well-worked out poverty. In Wrath the leading characters are well-removed from their former middle-class farm existence, having become tenant farmers on land they formerly owned, before the book begins. But a new and terrible poverty is their fate in California, where they were treated with an amazing lack of hospitality. They are not treated as citizens, or as people, just as movable and

expendable pieces of farm equipment.

I have written a great deal about the problem of overpopulation in the United States and the world. Immigration to the U.S. is a perplexing problem. Even legal immigration contributes to overpopulation.

Yet I believe every human being should be treated with dignity and respect where ever in the world they go, no matter what their national origin.

It would be nice if we could persuade humans to voluntarily control their reproduction, and of course many do. But too many do not, and I don't buy the argument that as the world gets wealthier reproduction rates always go down. I don't believe that the poor of the world, lets call that about 3 billion people, are going to get wealthier any time in the near future. This year, because of inflated food prices, most of them became much poorer. I also believe there are cultural issues that determine the number of children women have. Religious beliefs play a big part.

I don't know what Victor Hugo would think, but I suspect John Steinbeck would

be having the same dilemma. Steinbeck had a fine appreciation of the natural world and natural science. Two of his best novels, Sweet Thursday and Cannery Row, feature a biologist protagonist. John would tell you that when all the fish in the sea are caught, there will be no more fish to eat. And animal populations that get out of control always crash eventually, for one reason or another.

Here's a bit of The Grapes of Wrath, near the beginning of Chapter Five: Some of the owner men were kind because they hated what they had to do, and some of them were angry because they hated to be cruel, and some of them were cold because they had long ago found that one could not be an owner unless they were cold. And all of them were caught in something larger than themselves. Some of them hated the mathematics that drove them, and some were afraid, and some worshipped the mathematics because it provided a refuge from thought and from feeling.

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...Luminosos seres somos, no esta cruda materia...

Alix Otoole

Alix escribe para decir lo que de otra forma no puede, lo que sé que nadie quiere escuchar, para dejar escapar esos vapores venenosos y otros ni tanto. Escribe desde que aprendió, desde que le enseñó su padre. Y él le enseñó que Alix Otoole el acto de escribir como el de leer es íntimo, solitario y perfecto, pero http://www.myspace .com/alalalai en el mayor de los casos, sobre todo cuando es honesto, es incomprensible.

Su intoxicante favorito: Lilith; sigue sus huellas como los pasos perdidos de la humanidad, la que en esencia es, pero que perdió el rumbo desde su exilio… Mil preguntas sin respuestas, sin pretensiones, sin camino, casi sin sentido, más bien como alguien dijo una vez: “desbaratando mino”. Una mentira que generaencajes llegaré hasta el hilo”.

Alix Otoole

C

omo todas las cosas que son difíciles de percibir, de definir, de idear, esas cosas que tienen mil nombres, que se vuelven vagas, difusas, etéreas, la fealdad, junto con el mal, la moralidad, el cielo el infierno, simplemente, no existen… Pero cuidado! Esa exquisita mentira es más que un mito, una leyenda, es una trampa, más que eso, es un arma, sanguinaria, mortal, es la cara armada del rechazo y el miedo. Shakespeare dio en el clavo: “lo bello es lo feo y lo feo es lo bello”, ¿cuál es la línea?, ¿cual la medida?, imposible determinar. Pero hubo una vez un alguien, hambriento de poder, sediento de control, que fue más allá de la dicotomía del bien y el mal y genialmente halló que lo feo es malo y lo malo es feo, que el mal afeaba el rostro, desdibujaba la mirada, mal formaba los cuerpos, y que si aún veías belleza en aquello que te decían es malo, seguro había un engaño, un hechizo… Vanos han sido los intentos por borrar tales prejuicios, verdadero mal de males, porque nos empeñamos en ser limitados, en preferir vivir bajo la sombra del miedo, que de la certeza, en aceptar lo que se nos dice sin preguntar, en creer que son nuestras las ideas, nuestros los pensamientos y nuestras las emociones, y no es así. Todo proviene de un antes, de una historia, de la funesta decisión que alguien tomó para controlar la masa y llevarla “al buen ca-

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ción en generación se hizo verdad; así jamás veras la belleza en los ojos del jorobado, ni creerás que Lucifer real-

mente es tan bello como la luz de la mañana, que Lilith de ser la obra primorosa de Dios se convierta en un horroroso súcubo… ¿Y que se buscaba? Rechazar todo lo que estos seres representan. Hacerlos malos no fue suficiente, debías rechazarlos a través de la “fealdad”; así esa rebelión que habita en Lucifer, esa libertad sexual y mental que habitaba en Lilith son aplastados, les debes temer, son malos, son feos y no caerás en el riesgo de ser libre. Ahora en la nueva mitología urbana la gordura, la asimetría del rostro, la vejez, la enfermedad, la pobreza, ser diferente, simplemente será feo; y así la discriminación, la injusticia, la incapacidad de mirar más allá de lo que hay ante tus ojos, la incapacidad de profundizar, de que pienses, sientas y actúes por ti mismo, es bloqueado. La realidad es que tú no eres tú, no eres nada, eres un número, una estadística, crees que vives, pero ni siquiera respiras, para evitar sufrir el rechazo, la soledad, harás lo que sea, rechazarás y evitarás ser rechazado: Jamás deberás ser feo.

Mark Smalley Owl Jar

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Richard Brennan

The Roman Epic: Robert Graves' I, Claudius

Richard Brennan is the Online Networking Coordinator for ISEAL Alliance, an organisation that helps charities with standard-setting. He recently completed a degree in journalism at Westminster University, and has Richard Brennan also studied English at Sussex Univeristy. A keen blogger, he http://brennybaby.blo gspot.com/ enjoys reading both fiction and non-fiction as well as socialising with friends, reggae and ska music, and Su Doku.

Richard Brennan

Another character who was badly treated by the society due to his ugliness was Claudio (a stammering and lame Roman emperor). Richard Brennan comments the fantastic novel he inspired to Robert Graves.

I

'm currently spending my quieter evenings curled up with a copy of Robert Graves' I, Claudius, a fictional autobiography of the Roman emperor.

It is a brilliant book, one that envelops you until you feel you are sitting watching Roman rulers and their family plot and scheme.

Claudius, the narrator, is a harassed survivor. Scorned by his family, he is not seen as a natural ruler and occupies most of his time writing history.

The result is this chronicle, which depicts the reign of his grand-uncle Augustus, his uncle Tiberius and his nephew Caligula.

Of course, I, Claudius is based on fact. There really was a Tiberius Claudius Drusus, who was treated like a pariah by his family and Roman nobility.

Graves' writing is wholly believable, from the relatively benign rule of Augustus, to the cruel rule of Tiberius and finally the deranged and corrupt rule of Caligula.

Although Claudius is liberal in attitude, he is a firm supporter

of slavery and the barbaric games, and is often prepared to put the continuation of Roman rule before his own comfort.

Claudius' desire to survive pays off, although it has cost him dearly. He becomes Emperor at the end of I,Claudius after a rebellion against the weakened

Laura Valentino Eyes For You- gum bichromate print - 55x38 cm - 2008

Caligula.

I,Claudius does not shy away from depicting the cruelties and idiocies of life in Ancient Rome, and is packed with battles, plots and the history of the Romans.

It is a wonderful read.

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Shadows and hates beyond Notre-Dame

Keith Higginson Keith Higginson is a scientist working in the greater Boston, MA area. He blogs in his spare time.

Keith Higginson

Keith Higginson http://keifuswrites.blogs pot.com/

I had originally picked up The Hunchback of Notre-Dame with only a slim mental outline of its themes, informed, God help me, by at least one awful movie adaptation. The well-known bell-ringer has evolved into a singular popular vision of the novel, even though he's only one of the pla yers through which Victor Hugo's unfolds his broader commentary on beauty, love, and justice. (Tellingly, the original title, Notre-Dame de Paris, made no mention of the hunchback.)

I

don't think Quasimodo is even the strongest of Hugo's cast--the symbolic purposes of his disability get in the way of his credibility as a character--but he is certainly a compelling little guy. It's no wonder he grabbed the spotlight.

Early on, Hugo isn't subtle about what has made Quasimodo what he is. His character is tied closely to that grotesque physiology. He's presented to us as a mental defective, a young man who learned with great difficulty even before deafness completely removed him from human society. He is only dimly perceptive of the motivation and intent of other people, and his reactions, when he does eventually register the moods of others, are blunt expressions of emotion. His brain, we are told, is as twisted as his body, and combined with inadequate senses, and the inevitable abuse his appearance brings him, Quasimodo doesn't have much of a chance. "He was, in truth, mischievous because he was savage; he was savage because he was ugly."

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Hugo clearly intends an inner transformation for Quasimodo, one that is doomed to failure. Whether redemption through love and beauty fails because Quasimodo is incapable of such a transformation, because he's too ugly to be loved, or because that story is a fraud is an open question, and any or all of those interpretations can firmly support a tragedy (or satire), but in each case we still must entertain the idea that the hunchback is capable of some rudimentary salvation, which bumps up against any modern understanding of Quasimodo's evident handicap. The hunchback varies scene by scene from an imp, to a brute, to some creature indeed capable of complex, metaphorical thought. Love can't bring the poor bastard the release that he is unlucky enough to learn that he wants, but I'm

Mark Smalley Moon Flask

puzzled to find that it went so far as to bring awareness to such an inchoate bundle of dulled perceptions as enveloped our early Quasimodo. Tha-

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t's a hell of a transformation all by itself.

(Parenthetically, when Mary Shelley had taken this path just a few years earlier, she lent her creature a sharp mind to match both his ugliness and his moral innocence. It made a more engaging monster, even if his flight to violence was harder to accept. Did ugliness preclude love so definitively in the nineteenth century?)

Hugo's greater goal in the novel is to poke at shallow ideas of romantic love.

Quasimodo may be the quintessential wretch for these purposes, but most of the major characters are developed similarly: whether he's after the appearance of nobility, wisdom, beauty or bravery, Hugo drips with pleasure as he skewers their outward characters with reality. We all know the ironies of the story: the hunchback’s great love is a beauty; the repressed scholar’s great love is a free-spirited ingénue; the sweetheart’s is a handsome cad, who, at the moment of seduction, can’t even remember her name. The love stories aren’t weighted equally. Those that contain a particle of actual compassion Laura Valentino are allowed the heft of Attic Legs digital photo - 10x10 cm - 2002 tragedy and the others are left for comic relief-clusive purpose of its proceedings is to Esmeralda's fate is unjust, Claude's is fit- deliver violence, regardless of cause or ting, and Phoebus' is amusing–but every merit. The comical vagabond court, we one of them is ultimately a comedy of ob- find, is the most pure authority, and the jectification that can only end badly, and least corrupt. While it feels at times that does.

Hugo is picking on the medievals, mostly Speaking to the comedy, to my pleasure he presents the Law as a timeless sort of and surprise, Hugo is really good at menace. He’s got a good trick where he humor, and I love how he recognized the reveals the true mechanics of mysterious intelligent and powerless (that is, the stu- crimes off-handedly, and lets the grand dents) as the eagle-eyed observers of the process play out deaf and thoughtless of human condition, and gave them all of the unremarkable facts. Hugo’s Justice the good lines. A cast of vagabonds plays grinds on with tremendous inertia, abetto similar ideas of social justice that the ted by the ecclesiastical powers and the hunchback does to romantic love, played people’s narrow imaginations. It exists to out for laughs and with the uncomforta- drink blood, and no one but a half-mad ble bite of satire. Official death loomed bell-ringer even thinks to stand against over the heads of the poor in Quasimo- it, wrongly and badly. do's time (and hadn’t exactly disappeared The ugliness of the time and the place in Hugo's), and the author's contempt for were great, but there was love and becivic power is palpable. Justice is doomed auty mixed in with the grime and the into end badly for its subjects, and the ex- humanity. Victor Hugo clearly loved the

grand beauty of Paris' medieval architecture, and marked the cathedral of Notre Dame as the heart of the city, and put a half-formed lunatic as the soul of the church. If love failed to redeem the injustices of Quasimodo's times, they were at least worth remembering.

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (IV) During the French Revolution, Paris Cathedral was rededicated to the Cult of Reason and some of its treasures were destroyed, including the statues of kings of Judah as people incorrectly believed they represented the kings of France. It was even a warehouse for some time.

Durante la Revolución Francesa, la catedral de Paris se consagró al Culto de la Razón y algunos de sus tesoros se destruyeron, incluyendo las esculturas de los reyes de Judá que la gente creía incorrectamente que representaban a los reyes de Francia. Fue incluso almacén durante algún tiempo.

Lost Paradises: Amsterdam

Literature /Literatura Lost Paradises

Silvia Cuevas Mostacero

Back to reality. We have arrived directly from Brussels in Amster dam (a dam in the river Amstel) the capital of the Netherlands. We are at the central station in the centre of the old inner city within walking distance of nearly everywhere. In my first visit to this city I was very young and, although I wanted to do “the tourist things”, my cousin whom I was travelling with, did not. So, What did we do, then?

We just wandered through the city centre up, down and around, be cause it is not so big. Then we decided to have a tea and a cake which they forgot to tell us had cannabis in it (of course Amsterdam is the capital of cannabis and marijuana as well, as you all probably know).

T

hat’s all I can remember. In half an hour that cake made us the happiest people in the world and also the most relaxed. So much so that we nearly missed the last train back to Brussels. We made it at last and I remember my cousin making friends with all the people in the carriage, standing in the middle and giving a speech which ended in a massive applause, though I do not remember what was about.

Even if you are not a stoner (or even a pothead) you have to visit the coffee shops in Amsterdam. It is a must. They have got “menus” with all the possible varieties of “the bionic, the bomb, the puff, the blow, the black, the herb, the sensie, the chronic, the sweet Mary Jane, the shit, Ganja, split, reefa, the bad, the buddha, the home grown, the ill, the maui-maui, the method, pot, lethal turbo, tie, shake, skunk, stress, wacky, weed, glaze, the boot, dimebag, Scooby Doo, bob, bogey, back yard boogie” and any possible name Ali G could find. I’ve got a friend whose YAREAH MAGAZINE

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parents went into one and bought a “ready to smoke” joint of marijuana. You have to see the beautiful photos they took from the water in the channels. Really astonishing.

So my advice is to visit the museums first (Van Gogh, Rijksmuseum, Hermitage…) and all the cultural stuff and then go to the red-light district (De Wallen) to watch the one-room apartments rented by female sex workers who offer their services from behind a window or glass door, typically illuminated with red lights and everything so aseptic as their supermarkets. It is quite shocking seeing them and at the same time seeing the families with their prams as if they were in a theme park. Next you can visit the marvellous gardens they have.

I have not found any relevant legends about Amsterdam (probably because they are so down-to-earth) except for this Schreierstower which dates from 1480 and was part of the medieval city-walls. A legend tells that the name comes from

the weeping of the ladies who were supposed to take leave of their husbands who left from this spot with their ships.

And even this is not a legend….

What else can I tell. I simply love Amsterdam… And watch out for bells! It could be a bike, but it could also be a tram…

Lost Paradises Paraísos Perdidos

Silvia Cuevas Mostacero viasil@telefonica.net

Paraisos Perdidos: Amsterdam L i t e r a t u r e / L i t e r a t u r a Silvia Cuevas Mostacero

Paraisos Perdidos

Vuelta a la realidad. Hemos llegado directamente desde Bruselas a Ámsterdam (una presa en el río Amstel) la capital de Holanda. Es tamos en la estación central en el centro de la ciudad vieja, desde donde puedes ir andando a casi cualquier parte. En mi primera visita a esta ciudad, yo era muy joven y aunque quería hacer “el turista” mi primo, con el que viajaba, no. ¿Qué hicimos entonces? Sólo paseamos por la ciudad: arriba, abajo y alrededor, ya que no es tan grande. Luego decidimos tomar un té con un poco de pastel, que se olvidaron comen tarnos que llevaba marihuana (por supuesto Amsterdam es la capital del cannabis y de la mari huana también, como proba blemente todos sabéis).

E

so es todo lo que puedo recordar.

En media hora ese pastel nos convirtió en las personas más felices de la tierra y también en las más tranquilas.

Hasta tal punto que casi perdimos el ultimo tren de vuelta a Bruselas. Al final lo conseguimos, y recuerdo a mi primo haciéndose amigo de toda la gente del vagón, de pié en el centro, dándonos un discurso que terminó en un aplauso generalizado, aunque no recuerdo sobre qué iba.

Incluso si no eres un fumeta tienes que visitar los “coffee shops” de Amsterdam.

Es una obligación. Tienen “menús” con todas las posibles variantes de maría, mari juana, mary jane, Grifa, mota, hierba, mierda, mafú, pasto, monte, moy, café, orégano, costo, kif, Doña Juanita, Rosa María, Sinsemilla, Texas tea, Maui wowie, chronic, pot, mota, marihuana, Ganja, Bong y cualquier nombre posible que Ali G pudiera encontrar. Los padres de una amiga entraron en uno y compraron un porro de marihuana ya confeccionado.

Tendríais que ver las preciosas fotos que sacaron del agua de los canales. Real-

mente asombrosas.

Así que mi consejo es que primero visitéis los museos ( V a n Gogh, Rijksmuseum, Hermitage…) y todo el rollo cultural y luego vayáis al distrito rojo (De Wallen) para ver los apartamentos de una habitación que alquilan trabajadoras del sexo quienes ofrecen sus servicios desde detrás de un escaparate o puerta de cristal, típicamente iluminados con luces rojas y todo tan aséptico como sus supermercados. Llama la atención verlas y ver al mismo tiempo a familias empujando carritos de niño como si estuvieran en un parque temático. A continuación podéis visitar cualquiera de los maravillosos jardines que hay.

No he encontrado ninguna leyenda relevante sobre Ámsterdam (probablemente debido a que tienen los pies bien asentados en el suelo) excepto por la Schreierstower que data de 1480 y era parte de las murallas medievales de la ciudad. Dice la leyenda que el nombre viene de los lamentos de las mujeres que despedían a sus maridos quienes partían con sus barcos desde este punto. Y ni siquiera ésta es una leyenda….

Qué más puedo decir. Sencillamente, me encanta Amsterdam… Y cuidado con los timbres! Podría ser una bicicleta, pero también podría ser un tranvía…

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The Epiphany of Leonard's Toenails Mark A. Rayner Leonard was an unrepentant toenail grower.

His was a hidden pleasure, a diversion that bordered on a psychosis. It started idly one evening, before he changed out of his work clothes. His toenails had grown past their usual length, and one of them simply slit open the sock. t was like receiving the rapture.

The women in Leonard's workplace found him odd, and slightly creepy, even though there was nothing overtly wrong with him – in fact, he was personable, dressed well, and headed a "Toys for Tots" charity at Christmas. Despite his inoffensive nature and charity work, the women in the office avoided him, probably because they sensed the gigantic length of his toenails.

To some women, excessive toenail growth suggests a deep, fundamental lack of moral character. Leonard didn't know this, so his love life had been a disaster since he started experimenting in a serious way with extreme toenail growth. He could usually manage the first few dates, but as soon as relationships moved into the sock-removing phase, they did not last much longer.

On one occasion, he had to take a date to the hospital when his tremendous toenail nicked her behind the ear, and opened up what turned out to be a life-threatening wound. (How was he to know that she was a haemophiliac?) The would-be paramour placed the blame for

I

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her near-brush with death squarely on the sharp edges of his large right toenail.

"You could have killed me with that fucking thing! What's wrong with you? Cut them you freak!"

It wasn't that Leonard didn't cut his toenails at all. Oh he clipped them, as much as he hated it. He followed the Laura Valentino American PoBauble - mixed media - 60x64cm - 1995 diatric Medical Association's month in the year 2000, by a full centiadvice (straight across, no longer than metre. the end of the toe), which he did as often That following summer at his friend's cotas he could muster up the will. Often his tage, his buddies were good-naturedly nails exceeded the ends of his toes by semocking his cuticlistic foot-extensions, veral millimetres, and in one thrilling while Leonard walked to the cooler. Pa-

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ying more attention to their jibes than where he was going, Leonard walked right into a large cedar Adirondack chair.

His left big toe struck the wood dead-on and there was a tremendous crack.

Unfortunately, the sound was not the wood splintering under the assault of his mighty toenail, it was the nail itself. It was bent backwards, roughly about midway up his toe. It was excruciatingly painful, so much so that Leonard was not even able to scream, "fuck!" He did manage a strangled b e l l o w.

He limped for several weeks afterwards.

Even Leonard had to

Literatur e/Litera tura

Fiction - Relatos

Mark A. Rayner

admit that if his nail had been shorter, the accident would have proved less of an ordeal. But he Mark A. Rayner was born did not start trimming them. Le- in the Atomic Age, and is onard was made of sterner stuff still pleasantly surprised that he was than that.

He stopped cutting his toenails not vaporized in the midaltogether on that day in 2001. 80s. He lives in Canada with his cat, dog and Life was too short to waste it on significant cuticle maintenance. He saved other, Heather. (Not ne- Mark A. Rayner upwards of cessarily in that order.) markarayner.com two minutes His satirical fiction has a week, or 90 minutes appeared in each year! dozens of magazines and ezines, and his first novel, Then he THE AMADEUS NET is available from f o u n d ENC Press at: http://www.encpress.com/AN.html Visit his website to read more short other fiction, excerpts from his novels, and his unhinged small blog, The Skwib at: markarayner.com efficiencies: one hour a week hanging his clothes yourself. This countered the long-toenail right out of the dryer instead juju he had been exuding, because sudof ironing them later; 45 mi- denly, women found him very attractive. nutes a week not making his bed; 30 The affairs went much better. The toenails minutes a week by only flossing every were accepted by these women as necesother day. So on, and so forth, until by sary defects that they would correct the end of the process, he was saving al- when they "fixed" him. But alas, the most a half-day each week. women found themselves cut from Team That might not seem like much, but Leonard before the toenails. put it in other terms: A half-day each Eventually, Leonard found that he had to week accumulated into extra 26 trim the nails before they would break extra days per year. That led to al- out of his socks. (Buying socks was more most an extra year in 13 and time-inefficient than the occasional toea half years. Over an ave- nail trim.) But by any measure, the toerage lifespan, that could nails were still longer than normal, even mean an extra five and right after he cut them. They were his a half years. symbol of his new life.

These were heady Never once did Leonard really consider times for Leonard. what to do with those extra days. They Most of his changes were were taken up by his improved social life. little things, or hidden, so Someday he would meet a woman who outwardly, he seemed the could love him -- even with his toenails – same. But he had chan- for the man he was. He was energized an ged. Leonard was a mas- excited by the possibilities. ter of time. When you He had his final epiphany shortly thererealize that you are the after: Imagine how much more time he master of something as would save if he stopped watching telebig as time, you start to vision? feel better The assassins came for him later that a b o u t week.

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El Pasajero de la Noche Jose María Ortega Sanz A mi primo y amigo Daniel - Juana, Juana Doliente - respondió la joven cuando le había preguntado su nombre.

Era delgada y esbelta. De una extraña belleza, su pálido rostro estaba enmarcado por una larga y lacia cabellera de brillante color negro y un mechón de plata que, como una pincelada, parecía evocar un claro de luna en la noche.

U

n nombre extraño, tan extraño y enigmático como la bonita caja en la que va guardado- había contestado Sergio, pues este era el nombre de aquel joven, a modo de piropo.

Se habían conocido en un local de copas a eso de las dos de la mañana y, al final, habían recalado en la casa de él, un pequeño y céntrico apartamento, para rematar la noche.

La silueta de la mujer, vestida de oscuro, se recortaba sobre los cristales de la ventana por la que estaba mirando. Las luces de los farolas, los anuncios de neón y el tráfico trasnochador, iluminaban aquella amplia avenida, dándole un aspecto tan cosmopolita como melancólico.

- Tienes una bonita vista desde aquí- dijo Juana dejando la ventana - Ventajas de vivir en un piso alto- respondió el joven, mientras se acercaba con un par de copas en la mano , disponiéndose a interpretar la melodía de la seducción. - Bueno, ya sabes que soy “pincha” y conocido, pues has oído hablar de mí, pero aún no me has dicho nada de tí. ¿A qué te dedicas?

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- ¿Acaso importa?- contestó ella sonriendo ligeramente, con un cierto desdén mientras le alargaba los brazos detrás del cuello, dirigiéndole una mirada sugerente.

-¡Vaya con la dama misteriosa.! También es un enigma de lo que vives- continuó el D.J. que empezaba a estar picado por la curiosidad .

- En fin. Digamos que vivo de...- ella miro hacia el techo aburrida, como pensando qué responder, para luego dejar caer los ojos directamente sobre su interlocutor Vivo...con el corazón bajo las sombras.

Hubo un breve silencio, que rompió Sergio diciendo con una leve e incómoda sonrisa: - Bueno. Ya no preguntaré más; supongo que será lo mejor para los dos.

No había sido aquella extraña respuesta lo que había vuelto discreto al D.J., sino la forma en que le había mirado la joven y, sobre todo, los ojos de ésta. Sus grandes pupilas estaban rodeadas por un iris de un color gris, tan opaco y uniforme que en él no asomaba ningún ligero tono azul, pardo o verde que lo matizase.

Mark Smalley Eskimo Jar

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El Pasajero de la Noche Jose María Ortega Sanz - Ya, ... pero es que todos perdemos algo cuando Nació en Barhacemos el b a s t r o (Huesca) en amor.- con- septiembre de testó la joven 1962, marentre dubita- chándose a los tiva y enig- seis años a m á t i c a , Madrid, donde mientras ju- reside hasta la gaba con un actualidad. Se en botón de la licenció 1987 por Becamisa. llas Artes, de- Si te refieres d i c á n d o s e Jose María Ortega Sanz adriavilo@gmail.com a la virgini- después a la dad, creo d o c e n c i a que.. . como profesor de dibujo en institutos. Ha realizado - No seas varias exposiciones y colaborado en revistas como tonto. Haga- articulista e ilustrador. Su primer libro publicado, fue mos el amor. un ensayo de urbanismo titulado “Proyectos MatriYo también tenses. Ideas para el Madrid del siglo XXI” quiero.le aquella aventura. cortó Juana con - Te empeñas en seguir siendo enigmádecisión - Pero de- tica. Bueno, pues me gustan los riesgosberías de saber y acercando su rostro al de la joven conque tú perderás tinuó- Y yo creo que tú lo mereces. más que yo.

Juana sonrió agradecida, y le besó con - Eres un poco pre- ternura. Después, como haciendo un essuntuosa- dijo fuerzo por resultar algo más clara, añaLaura Valentino Sergio algo dió: Attic Back - digital photo - 12x17 cm - 2002 Continuaron molesto, aun- - Dijiste antes que la vida es como un durante un rato que aquella si- largo viaje... pues yo siempre hago ese más con aquel juego de seducciones. Se tuación empezaba a asustarle tanto viaje en trenes nocturnos. habían sentado en un sofá y allí habla- como anhelaba seguir adelante -¿Es que - ¿Y eso que importa? ban, se acariciaban, se besaban... hasta acaso debo pagar un precio por acos- Que es contagioso. Tu también te enque el cortejo les llevó al dormitorio, la tarme contigo?. gancharás a la noche. única habitación independiente del apar- - Digámoslo así - respondió Juana, con- Vaya tontería. La noche no me asustatamento. tinuando con su hermetismo- No hablo dijo Sergio con aplomo- Soy Noctis D.J..

- ¿De verdad que quieres acostarte con- de dinero, claro. Tampoco yo voy a sacar Vivo de la noche, me alimento de ella. migo?- preguntó Juana, después de nada de ello. Pero tú arriesgas más que - La noche. Vosotros no sabéis nada de haber hecho un par de observaciones yo, aunque no te puedo decir por qué. la noche - empezó a responder la joven sobre el decorado de la habitación, mienPor la cabeza del joven pasaban multi- airada, casi con desprecio - La llenáis de tras desabrochaba la camisa del joven. tud de ideas acerca de a lo que podía re- luces y música estridente, y se diría que - Bueno. ¿Es que no te parece poco haber ferirse aquella mujer. Aún así, nada le más bien la teméis queriendo prolongar llegado hasta aquí.? detendría, pues le apasionaba rematar el resplandor del día. Pero la noche no es

Jose María Ortega Sanz

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Fiction - Relatos

El Pasajero de la Noche Jose María Ortega Sanz eso. Es sosiego, misterio, incertidumbre, como los pensamientos que se deslizan rebeldes por nuestra mente durante las horas de las sombras.

Es anhelar la oscuridad para buscar lo oculto y realizar lo prohibido. La noche es la lechuza posada en el árbol, esperando en silencio su presa; la luna llena que surge tras las brumas a las que arrastra una suave brisa; la calle silenciosa y oscura, iluminada por una triste farola, en la que se escucha lejano el retumbar de los pasos de un extraño sobre el pavimento. ¡La noche es tantas cosas!, y resulta demasiado pretencioso el creer que todas ellas se pueden sublimar en tu mundo de discotecas.

- Pues tú estabas en una de ellas, hace apenas unas horascontestó el D.J., algo transpuesto tras aquel encendido discurso.

- La noche es larga, uno debe conocerlo todo.

Mientras hablaban ambos se habían desnudado y tumbado sobre la cama. El joven dejó sin responder aquella última frase y abrazándose empezaron a conocer sus cuerpos mutuamente.

Sergio sentía cierto respeto, y hasta algo de temor, hacía aquella bella desconocida, pero más fuerte era la pasión que le atraía hacia ella. Sin darse cuenta había comenzado a hacerle el amor, y casi instantáneamente comprendió que aquella vez iba a ser diferente a lo que había sentido en otras ocasiones.

Recordó, pese a la pasión que le embargaba, que había visto aquella noche la luna llena sobre el cielo de la gran ciudad; mas ahora le venía a la mente igual de blanca y brillante, pero cruzada por jirones de nubes y contemplada por entre YAREAH MAGAZINE

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Laura Valentino Torso- gum bichromate print - 38x27 cm - 2008 las ramas deshojadas de un bosque otoñal.

Juana era un misterio insondable, y también lo era en el amor. Sergio sentía que estaba empezando a ser atrapado por algo superior a él. Pero aunque le asustaba, también le complacía. Con la habitación a oscuras, pues así lo había pedido ella, apenas podía contemplar a la joven.

Por su mente cruzaban ráfagas de pensamientos e imágenes, destellos de su vida que parecían quedar atrás para siempre. Luego se vió a sí mismo ante un oscuro y profundo lago rodeado de montañas. Era de noche y las estrellas se reflejaban en la superficie negra y lisa de sus aguas. Dejándose llevar por aquel espectáculo grandioso, se arrojaba desnudo a sus aguas sin miedo a que estuvieran demasiado frías. Pero no era la temperatura de aquellas lo que le atrapaba, sino una sensación extraña, como si las aguas del lago le agarraran conver-

tidas en una infinidad de viscosos y sensuales brazos sobre los que se reflejaban juguetones las luceros nocturnos. Y todo eso le producía una sensación distinta y un morboso placer.

Cuando se despertó ella ya no estaba allí, ni había nada que la recordase. Pero no fué eso lo peor, sino la terrible sensación que le había desvelado a horas tan tempranas. Las primeras luces de la mañana entraban por la ventana de su habitación y caían sobre el golpeándole como un gran peso. Corrió a cerrar la persiana y pensó que podría ser la resaca,

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Fiction - Relatos

El Pasajero de la Noche Jose María Ortega Sanz pero no había bebido gran cosa la noche anterior y tampoco era la sensación que recordaba de otras veces.

La luz del día le dolía como si fuese un territorio prohibido, del que había renegado voluntariamente. Fué a la otra habitación y también bajó las persianas, haciendo esfuerzos por evitar el resplandor matinal. Tan solo el cuarto de baño, con una pequeña ventana de cristal esmerilado, dejaba entrar algo de luz, pero cerró la puerta.

Estaba

a oscuras, en silencio y sin pensar en nada, solo deseando que acabara el día y llegara la noche. Pero ya no esperaba las horas nocturnas para salir con sus amistades por los locales de alterne.

Deseaba la oscuridad para respirar, como si ahora necesitase el anhídrido carbónico de los bosques. Anhelaba las sombras y merodear, como un lobo solitario, por lugares apartados donde sentir la brisa nocturna y contemplar el cielo bajo las estrellas. Recorrer las calles desiertas donde acechar los pasos perdidos de algún paseante o saborear la inquietante calma de las horas noctámbulas. Empezaba a comprender a lo que se había referido la mujer de la noche anterior. A partir de ahora él también estaba condenado a viajar en trenes nocturnos. Había quedado enganchado al mundo de las sombras. Se había convertido en un pasajero de la noche.

Pero estos pensamientos, lejos de causarle desasosiego, le daban una extraña sensación de indiferencia, mientras permanecía inmóvil entre las tinieblas.

Luego sonó el telefoneo.

- ¿Sergio, eres tú?- respondió una voz, en la que había reconoMark Smalley A Walk In The Park

cido a su manager, al otro lado del aparato, después de que el D.J preguntara quien era- No te había reconocido. Soy Teo, te llamaba para recordarte lo de la entrevista con el tipo de la gira.

- Ya- respondió el joven con aire ausente - Era esta tarde, ¿No? Creo que no podré ir. No me encuentro bien.

- ¡Pero que estás diciendo! No puedes hacer eso. Tenemos un compromiso.

- Bueno, intenta arreglarlo para que le veamos esta noche. ¿A qué hora oscurece hoy?

- ¡Yo que sé! Estamos a finales de septiembre, supongo que hacia las ocho de la tarde. ¿Pero como voy a decirle a ese tipo que cambiamos la hora? Pensará que no le estamos tomando en serio. ¿Oye, no podrías hacer un esfuerzo?.

La conversación duró algo más, entre la indiferencia de uno y la desesperación del otro y, aunque al final nada quedó demasiado claro, parecía que la cita iba a quedar postergada a las horas de oscuridad.

Sergio se relajó, encendió un cigarrillo y empezó a pensar. Mientras su mente vagaba, su cuerpo permanecía inmóvil, como sin fuerza, esperando las sombras para volver a reponerse. Tendría que organizarse la vida de otra manera. Por otro lado, ésta le parecía mas indefinida, como si ya no importase el paso del tiempo, ni los límites de nuestra existencia. Volvió a sonar el teléfono pero ya no le descolgó. Anhelaba pasear sintiendo las hojas secas del otoño crujir debajo de sus pies, mientras que en el cielo brillaban la luna y las estrellas de una manera diferente a todo lo anterior. Había renegado del día, ya no quemaría su existencia bajo el resplandor del sol. Las sombras habían anidado en su corazón y pronto asomarían en su mirada. Entonces tendría que explicarse la vida y el tiempo de otra manera.

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Poetry - Poesia

Elaine Magliaroon

sPACEMAN Whooshing down the hillside fast Trees and people blurring past Runners carving out the snow Like an astronaut I go Blasting into outer space Rocketing at record pace Through the stratosphere I fly I’m commander of the sky Won’t return to Earth until . . .

I reach the bottom of the hill.

WINTER BALLET It’s white snow, Bright snow, Soft-as-feathers light snow…

Tiny ballerinas there Pirouetting through the air With their shiny crystal shoes In their winter dance debuts.

Elaine Magliaro (b. 1946) worked as an elementary school teacher for more than three decades and as a school librarian for three years. She also Elaine Magliaro taught a children's literahttp://wildrosereader. ture course at Boston blogspot.com University from 20022008. Elaine served three terms as president of the Massachusetts PAS North Shore Council of the International Reading Association. From 2006-2008, she was a member of the advisory board for the Keene State College Children’s Literature Festival. In 1994, she presented a paper, Bringing Parents and Children Together through Poetry, at Beijing Normal University. She is now retired and writes poetry for children. Her poems have been included in the anthologies Robert’s Snowflakes and Falling Down the Page: A Book of List Poems.

FAIRY FOR HIRE Did you get an invitation To the prince’s ball in May? Would you like a brand new pumpkin coach To ride in on that day?

Do you want a silk brocaded gown To spend the gala day in?

A shiny pair of crystals shoes To waltz the night away in?

Just call me any day or night At MAGIC WAND SUPPLIERS. I’ll conjure up the lovely things Your little heart desires.

Mark Smalley Agamemnon

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Poetry - Poesia

Quetzalcoatl As you leave the bed your rising fluffs up a feather. The sulky curl sways overhead as you whisk a razor down your cheek. I retreat into dream and wake to find a feather in your place, floating as the curtain flaps at the open window. Towns away, you hover over your drafting board, the parallel bar singing up and down.

From your pencil extrudes a weightless architecture.

It wavers into the air and joins our parallel rooms, following us around all day, lifting us slightly off the ground. We walk into and out of each other's space as around the world tendrils come loose and dangle in front of eyes. They blur the world of faces, superimposing them into dimensions, each left slightly ajar.

Time and space grow feathered and Earth's curve fringes into a wing.

The dense plumage overlaps, exudes a desert wind scent as a billion feathers loft and we begin to soar.

Earth Whale

-- For Jim

The soil surges with elusive tides.

By my apartment an oak dives head first into a hidden sea while bird chatter rattles the sky.

The oak sings to me when it pleases.

From its black flanks and branches come disturbing lullabies and simple songs of white breezes.

The oak's dismantling sighs Roar below the city surface

Rachel Dacus Rachel Dacus’s three poetry books are Another Circle of Delight, Femme au chapeau and Earth Lessons. Her work has been included in the antholoRachel Dacus gies Ravishing DisUnities: www.dacushome.com Real Ghazals in English and Italy: A Love Story. She resides in the San Francisco Bay Area and serves as a contributing editor for Umbrella (www.umbrellajournal.com) and is on the staff of The Alsop Review. On the Web, she can be found at www.dacushome.com.

from deep in evolutionary gloom the depths where fire flowers and magma pearls bloom.

Oak notes quake the planet as continents cross its face.

The poles shift in a vast rhythm of history being erased.

The oak hears beyond time and dives for song, headlong.

On its tossing tail alight generations of lives in flight.

Laura Valentino Scorpio- gum bichromate print - 38x55 cm - 2008 YAREAH MAGAZINE

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YAREAH MAGAZINE UN LeoN QUE COME CORAZoN "El amor, un león que come corazón" (Juan Ramón Jiménez) El sol se ilumina sobre tu cuerpo desnudo Te leo un poema que habla de la nostalgia de eternidad fresca de gloria mojada En las rosas. gotas de plata En el cielo. nubes cargadas de lágrimas y algún azul de esperanza La sangre de la tierra muestra la herida del sol Bajo los pinos. tu desnudez tu carne de luna y la primavera llena de pájaros y de flores Mis sueños se llena de rosas de yerba de rocío El sol de la tarde se contempla en la rosa que abre la primavera adormece la pasión sin fin y vuelve la vida amarilla violeta Es de oro el silencio La luna doró aquella noche nuestra pasión mientras la radio lloraba la tristeza de los días sin canción Canto al último sol que deja paso a la luna de una noche de primavera el dormir escuchando una bella voz acariciando cabellos de plata el unir nuestros cuerpos cada vez más hasta que sea terriblemente duro decirnos adiós

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Lite rature/Literatur a Poetry - Poesia

Miguel Ángel Valero López Miguel Ángel Valero López, periodista dedicado desde hace 23 años a escudriñar en el mundo de la banca y de las finanzas, tiene otra Miguel Ángel Valero vida. Más enriquecedora.

Ha publicado de nuevo la López edición de sus poemas valero63@gmail.com de soltero y prepara dos obras más de poesía.

También anda enfrascado en escribir un par de novelas.

Mientras tanto, ha vuelto a sus orígenes, ya que comenzó en el periodismo haciendo críticas de libros.

La soltería es todo un poema puede encontrarse en las librerías de El dragón lector (eldragonlector.com): Fernández de la Hoz, 72 y Sagunto, 20, ambas en Madrid.

También se puede pedir al autor: valero63@gmail.com

ENTONCES SUS MANOS IMPACIENTES

1 Entonces sus manos impacientes que el afán hacía temblar en lúbricas epilepsias se afirmaron en los altozanos turgentes de los senos Las enloquecidas caricias repasan las piernas las rodillas el nacimiento de los muslos el principio de las caderas apenas esbozadas las pomposidades de las nalgas y hasta ciertas penumbras dislocantes Y unos senos núbiles.

2 Sus pechos de encogen de hombros porque son inocentes cuando los levanta el aire a cada paso Miran a los ojos sin recelo con miradas que nacen en los sueños que nunca se olvidan Tiemblan de amor bajo las estrellas bajo la luna y también bajo el sol del mediodía

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AMIGOS BUSCO PARA DIVIDIR PENAS

Deseo unirme a los amigos, por más que la sociedad nos desuna.

Un amigo con el que vivir, más que consumiendo las horas, compartiendo la vida.

Con la vida he descubierto, que el afecto destruye el odio, que la humanidad construye justicia, que si uno vierte miradas amistosas, le nacen amigos debajo de las piedras.

Advierto que la amistad es precisa, sobre todo para dividir dolores y para multiplicar consuelos.

Considero y llevo a la consideración de todo ser, ofrecer amistad hasta globalizar el vínculo al alma.

Que un amigo es una necesidad.

Dos son mejor que uno.

Tres son una multitud necesaria para tragarse las noches.

Poetry - Poesia

Víctor Corcoba Herrero Víctor Corcoba Herrero nació el 6 de septiembre de 1958 en Cuevas del Sil, León. (ESPAÑA) Diplomado Universitario por la Universidad de Víctor Corcoba HeOviedo. Profesor de EGB. rrero Licenciado en Derecho por la Universidad de corcoba@telefonica.net Granada.

Reside desde 1984 en Granada (ESPAÑA).

Tiene en su haber libros publicados de creación poética en abundancia, desde 1979 a 2007), de narrativa (de 1984 a 2002), además de aparecer incluido en diversas antologías y libros homenaje.

Ejerce la crítica pictórica y la de flamenco.

Colabora, o ha colaborado, en medios radiofónicos, prensa y revistas. Entre los diversos medios, cabe citar algunos, como: Revista Cambio 16 (Cuadernos para el diálogo). Diario Alerta de Cantabria. El Faro de Astorga. Semanario Bierzo 7. El Oriente de Asturias.En la actualidad es director de la revista “Ayudando a Vivir” de Proyecto Hombre Granada. También de la revista bimestral “Haciendo Familia”.

Tener en mente una amplitud de horizontes aviva la amistad, su abecedario es el respeto mutuo y el espíritu de sinceridad su lenguaje.

LA MANOS DE UNA MUJER El verso llegó de manos de la mujer al corazón de la vida.

Se creció el silencio de poesía y las soledades decrecieron.

Por una mujer despertó el amor y se adormeció el hombre en sus brazos.

Hay escenarios que son el rayo, y escenas que son el cristal inmaculado.

Cuando el hombre ama saltan chispas.

Cuando la mujer se siente amada, el amor traspasa el iris del alma y enciende los ojos del amado.

Por ello, si al mundo le falta ternura, si todo es distancia y distante, la rosa es siempre rosa y hace jardín, tiene nombre de mujer y hace humanidad.

Humanidad que nace en cada mujer madre.

La más bella palabra y el más bello verso: madre mía.

Si a la luz de una sociedad de hombres para mujeres, y de mujeres para hombres, el ser humano se humaniza; a la sombra una mujer es todo, el hombre nada.

Una sonrisa de mujer nos reconoce a todos como poetas, injertando corazón donde no se tiene corazón, porque la vida es querer y el querer de una mujer es tan grande, que marca siempre a un hombre.

Una mujer y sus manos pueden cambiar el mundo, -lo advierto-, y el hombre dejar de ser un lobo para el hombre.

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Who are Ugly?

Who is Beauty?

ARTS/ARTE

Isabel del Río Frequently, I have been confused hearing this or that person was handsome. To me, they were ordinary people with any particular sign of beauty.

Specially shocking are celebrations with the family like weddings or Christmas Eve din ners, when different generations are siing together to enjoy and freely speak. The ol dest family members start to admire the beauty of that actress of the 40’s or 50’s who is, no doubt, fat and badly hair dressed for the youngest ones…Then, what would they say about “models of beauty” of several cen turies ago?

M

ona Lisa’s eyebrows have disappeared and her front was excessively wide. Rubens’ superstar Muse had cellulites and the neck of Nefertiti, queen of Egypt, seems the one of a giraffe… Of course, a similar thing happens with ancient masculine seducers because, according with their portraits, Henry the 8th had double chin, Alexander the Great was too short and Casanova needed to go on a diet.

-Well, well -some sensible people can say-. Everyone has its personal taste and although current marketing workers are trying to unify our opinions, some people keep on independents and prefer, for example, a man wearing glasses, with some intellectual air, than a Brad Pitt’s stereotype, only suitable for a weekend on the beach.

-Yes, I agree –I used to answer- but…

This portrait by Sofonisba Anguissola represents Ana de Mendoza, princess of Éboli, who was breaking hearts in Spain during the second half part of the 16th century. She had an average size of front and fortunately, two ordinary eyebrows but…

-Well, well –although I am not sensible at all, I could say or at least, mutter-. When has it been in fashion to have only one eye? Among pirats? Among warriors?

Among who? From Nelson to Blas de YAREAH MAGAZINE

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Lezo, all of the biographies I have read about brave sailors, who had lost some important part of their body or face, consider that their injured protagonists had preferred to maintain their first appearance.

However, Ana de Mendoza was able to win the love of every powerful man of her time (we do not have testimonies about the others; lamentably, they did not use to pass to the History) and we can include the king Felipe the 2nd among them.

She had money, she was born in the richest Spanish family of that time and was widow of a prince, but nor Felipe the 2nd nor Antonio Pérez, his minister, nor the other Lords in relationship with her were snoopers in debts to Armani or who wanted to sell a scoop on TV. What happened then?

-Well, well –we could at least think- Perhaps she had a very interesting personality, did not she?

-No, no!

-… or maybe, yes.

We live in a superficial time where no-

Princess of Eboli Sophonisba Anguisola

body pays attention to immaterial aspects like personality, friendship, culture or conversation.

We live in an industrial time where all is made quickly and we have forgotten to enjoy afternoons with somebody who makes us laugh…, even if he/she has not got eyebrows or his/her front is too wide.

We live in an empty time and we adore our external appearance trying to forget we must get old and ugly and ill. We need to look back and understand that great seducers or seductress have been ever something more than a nice face.

-No, no!

-… or maybe, yes.

Feo o guapo?

Isabel del Río

ARTS/ARTE

Frecuentemente me he quedado estupefacta al oír que esta o aquella persona es guapa. Para mí, eran personales normales sin ningún particular signo de belleza.

Especialmente chocantes son las celebraciones familiares como bodas o cenas de Navidad. Diferentes generaciones se sientan juntas para compartir un momento y expresarse libremente. Los más mayores empiezan entonces a alabar la belleza de alguna ac triz de los cuarenta o cincuenta que es en opinión de los más jó venes, sin lugar a dudas, gorda y mal peinada… Mejor no saber qué dirían sobre “modelos de belleza” de hace varios siglos. sito de una dieta urgente.

-Bueno, bueno –podría decir alguna persona sensata-. Cada uno tiene su gusto y aunque la publicidad está tratando de unificar nuestras opiniones, hay quienes se mantienen independientes y prefieren, por ejemplo, un hombre con gafitas y aire intelectual que el estereotipo playero a lo Brad Pitt.

-Sí, claro –suelo contestar- pero…

Este retrato realizado por Sofonisba Anguissola representa a Ana de Mendoza, princesa de Éboli, quien anduvo rompiendo corazones por la España de la segunda mitad del siglo XVI. Tenía un tamaño normal de frente y, afortunadamente, dos cejas pero…

-Bueno, bueno –aunque no soy sensata, podría decir o al menos musitar-: ¿Cuándo ha estado de moda ser tuerta? ¿Entre los piratas? ¿Entre los mercenarios?

Gioconda ¿Entre quién? Todas las bioLeonardo da Vinci grafías que he leído sobre a Mona Lisa no tiene marinos que perdieron alguna cejas y su frente es descomunalparte importante de su cuerpo o cara mente grande. La Musa de los cua(Nelson, Blas de Lezo…) consideraban dros de Rubens es celulítica y el cuello que sus protagonistas hubieran prefede Nefertiti, reina de Egipto, parece más rido mantener la facha previa a ser hebien el de una jirafa… Lo mismo sucede ridos. con los antiguos modelos de belleza masculinos porque, según sus retratos, Sin embargo, Ana de Mendoza fue Enrique VIII tenía papada, Alejandro capaz de enamorar a todo caballero poMago era bajo y Casanova estaba nece- deroso que se cruzó en su camino (de los otros no hay testimonies; lamenta-

L

Isabel del Río Directora de Arte http://www.isabeldelrio.wor dpress.com

blemente no pasan a los libros de Historia), incluyendo al rey Felipe II. La chica tenía dinero, ya que pertenecía a la familia más rica de aquel entonces, y era viuda de un príncipe, pero ni Felipe II ni su ministro, Antonio Pérez, ni los otros Duques que la rodeaban eran una panda de buscavidas que tuvieran que pagar las deudas de Armani o vender una exclusiva en la tele. ¿Qué tenía Ana de Mendoza?

-Bueno, bueno –podríamos al menos pensar-. Quizá tenía una personalidad terriblemente seductora, ¿podría ser?

-¡No! -… ¿O tal vez sí?

Vivimos un tiempo superficial donde nadie presta atención a los aspectos no tangibles como la personalidad, simpatía, cultura o conversación. Vivimos un tiempo industrial donde todo se hace deprisa y hemos olvidado lo que podría suponer disfrutar mil y una tardes con alguien que nos haga reír… aunque no tenga cejas o aunque su frente sea demasiado amplia. Vivimos un tiempo vacío y adoramos la apariencia externa tratando de olvidar que envejeceremos y enfermaremos y que la belleza de ayer es perecedera. Necesitamos volver la vista atrás para darnos cuenta que los grandes seductores nunca fueron sólo una cara bonita.

-¡No! -… ¿O tal vez sí?

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artist of the month A R T S / A R T E

Mark Smalley What’s the art?

I

see art as an exciting and fulfilling adventure, one which is intrinsically bound up with the journey through life. The practise of making art provides similar challenges, frustrations, twists, turns and surprises. It is also a process of self-exploration and helps me to understand myself better. For me, art is about bringing something of our inner life into the real world; to make the invisible, visible. When the skill, emotion and imagination of an artist come together at the right moment, amazing and mysterious things can happen.

I’m always curious about the world, and art gives me the freedom to assimilate, experiment, expand my mind, maybe even a way to seek eternal truths. Being creative also allows me to play, to let go of conventions and give free reign to instinct and the subconscious. I am interested in questioning conventional notions of beauty and this is partly why I’m drawn to themes such as aging, decay, impermanence and the grotesque.

Part of the joy of art lies not in finding quick and easy answers, but in the revelation of further questions and pathways. I like the way fate and synchronicity seem to play their part in the artistic process. It amazes me how often the chance discovery of an artist’s work or technique can inspire me to set off down a different road or lead me back to look at something again with fresh eyes.

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Mark Smalley

ARTS/ARTE

Mark Smalley

Mark Smalley was born in Macclesfield, England and for the past fourteen years has lived near Stoke-on-Trent in Staffordshire. His first degree was a B.A. Honours in Modern Languages from the University of Leeds and he also holds an M.A. in Creative Technology. He has worked in several fields as a linguist, academic and teacher and now devotes the majority of his time to artistic endeavours. He is a self-taught artist and has had a lifelong passion for oil painting and sculpture. As a ceramic artist, he enjoys creating both funcMark Smalley tional pottery and sculptural pieces, many of which have been purchased by collectors in http://www.ukartpottery.com/ma the U.K. and overseas. rk-smalley-4343-0.html

http://yareah.com/marksmalley/

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artistA del mes

ARTS/ARTE

Laura Valentino What’s the art?

F

Although my work has changed in appearance over the years, there has always been a focus on the portrayal of everyday things in a new light. In the beginning, this was not so much a conscious decision. My large paintings of mundane interiors simply started to take on a life of their own, inhabited by animated wallpapers or anthropomorphic kitchen appliances. In other works, single objects appeared as more important than they really are, an observation of life in an increasingly materialistic world.

Later, an interest in gender relations and a revived interest in photography led me to explore the topic of sensuality and the human form. Although it may seem like a radical departure from my earlier cartoonish style, I have always been interested in the seductive quality of a tactile work of art. Around the same time, I was also experimenting with various methods of printing, since my work was now being produced on computer. I have occasionally produced animated or interac-

tive works, but I am more attracted to producing a static piece of work where the hands on process adds its mark to the final piece, rather than an ethereal work that occupies a short space in time.

My current work consists variously of sensual couples or the nude figure done in the gum bichromate process. In my latest series of male nudes, the focus is not necessarily on sensuality, but rather the essence of masculinity through exploring classic themes Laura Valentino and archetypal Touch- gum bichromate print - 38x55 cm - 2008 figures.

Still ges captured they are a product of the current times. however are not necessarily as they seem The media used, state of the on the surface. A fleeting moment, enart equipment, contempo- hanced and manipulated can tell an enrary trends in body types tirely different story than expected. This and hair styles - all of this is true with painting or photography. Alcontributes to a creation though my work is far away from what which encompasses the would be called documentation, in reapresent as well as the past. lity, all documentation is somewhat biaI feel that my role as an ar- sed, in that the documenter chooses tist is that of the observer, what to capture and what to leave out. documenting what I see That is the art of it. and have learned. The ima-

Laura Valentino Laura Valentino was born in Cleveland, Ohio but

Laura Valentino http://lauraval.com

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grew up in the southern USA. After completing her BFA degree from Eastern Kentucky University and her masters from the University of California, Berkeley, adventure took her to Iceland, where she now resides with her teenage daughter in the capitol city of Reykjavik. Although she has pursued a career in graphic arts and interface design, Laura has always had one foot in the art world showing her paintings and prints in various group and solo exhibitions. She is a member of the Association of Icelandic Visual Artists as well as the Icelandic Printmaker's Association. She is currently working in the gum bichromate process, which is a historic photographic process that in recent years is enjoying a revival as an art form.

Laura Valentino

ARTS/ARTE

Laura Valentino Ear - archival ink jet print - 20x18.5 cm - 1999

Laura Valentino Ear - archival ink jet print - 20x18.5 cm - 1999

Laura Valentino Doll Legs - archival ink jet print - 20x18.5 cm - 1999

ARTS/ARTE

Las personas a lo largo y ancho del mundo pueden crear belleza a partir de materiales realmente aRTESANOS simples. Descubre el mundo de...

MACARENA PAZ FUENTES M

e gusta trabajar con distintos materiales y texturas que algunos pueden considerar como feos o desagradables.

En todo debe existir un equilibrio como el símbolo del Yin Yang. Tenemos una parte clara y una oscura. Como el ser humano defectos y virtudes.

La fealdad, es una ilusión que a veces nos limita. Me gusta ver en todas las cosas algo bello, algo interesante.

La fealdad sólo existe para el que no quiere ver lo bello en todo lo que nos rodea.

El crear me permite ver lo mejor de las personas y de la naturaleza.

Trato siempre de buscar el equilibrio en todos los aspectos de la vida.

Macarena Paz Fuentes

Macarena Paz Fuentes

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Soy una Adolescente nacida en Chile.

Desde que era pequeña que hago manualidades.

Me encanta dibujar, cantar, hacer collares, tejer a Macarena Paz Fuentes crochet, tejido a www.creandoconmostacillas.cl macramé.

Disfruto cuando lo realizo, me tranquilizo, me concentro.

Pertenezco al Taller "Creando con Mostacillas"

ARTS/ARTE crafts

All around the world, people can create beautiful objects with simple materials. See the work of...

Bo A

nd have you ever knitted something that you just LOVE to pieces?

That would be this Pinwheel Sweater for me. I love this silly thing.

It is just over sized and "flappy" enough to wrap me up like in a cocoon---and it's comfortable as anything--- and I just love it!

Of course, I took many "liberties" with the pattern, and I know my haphazard, psychedelic methods of interpreting other people's patterns is not everybody's cup of tea--- but for me it "fits". And yes, just like my socks, the sleeves don't match--- and I just threw in the colors willynilly according to my "mood" --- but dadgum it, I LOVE IT! I put random cables, bobbles, seed stitch, and fair-isle "dots" hither and yon, every which way but loose. And I finished off the edging with a crocheted pattern ("mock ribbing" via front post stitches), and I didn't put any buttons on it because I prefer wearing it manually "wrapped" around me.

I love this silly thing so much that I've begun another one, this time using the color black as the main color instead of the aran color.

I LOVE IT!

Bo Attached is a photo of me in college, and also the front and back of the Pinwheel Sweater. As for my bio, I was born in California but was raised in Bo foreign countries overseas, since my parents http://bohemianknitter.blog spot.com/ both worked for the U.S. government as diplomats. I returned to America to attend California Polytechnic State University, and I graduated with a B.S. Degree in Chemistry. After working for a few years as a paralegal, I attended a Catholic convent nursing school in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and then became an RN. I began my blog as a way to talk about my daily life during the years I was a road nurse in Texas. Now, I'm living in Kansas, and I'm continuing to write my blog even though I am not currently working. My hobby is knitting and crocheting, and I express my creativity by knitting things which are extremely brightly colored. :)

Interview: David McDowell

ARTS/ARTE

INTERVIEW

David McDowell, an old friend of Yareah magazine (you can see his blog: http://yareah.com/davidmcdowell/), Stephen Johnston and Kyle Barnes will have an exhibition in Belfast, Canvas Galleries, from the 23rd of April to the end of the month.

The show, based on realism, is entitled “Against the Grain” and since I have been admiring the fine work of David for years, it has been a great honour to interview him before the gallery opens its doors for these three excellent artists.

Isabel del Rio: David, why “Against the Grain”? Are you speaking about a technical concept or about some deeper notion of understanding reality?

David McDowell: “Against the Grain” is the idea of challenging the contemporary art market. With Impressionism bringing about the invention of photography, the art market was flung from one movement to the next. Movements overlapped and had no chance of maturing. Realism was quickly dismissed with the introduction of Abstract Expressionism and now with Realism on the rise again, it seems like an appropriate time for the exhibition.

I suppose our aim is to reverse the canon that is abstract, by looking towards a reappraisal of contemporary figurative art.

IdR: Seeing your paintings, full of intimate scenes, I notice the contrast among the apparent peaceful world you are reflecting and the tension that your works are constantly emanating. Is Art always a dialogue between opposite forces?

DM: I think yes, art is largely based on the juxtaposition of opposites. It seems to be an accepted notion within the art industry that, “Good Art” is defined by being either very loud or very quiet. So you see… the art industry in itself is a dialogue of opposition. I as an artist am interested in the idea of taking a private moment and making it public.

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IdR: Is your interest in Realism a result of this current artistic dialogue among abstract forms and figurative paintings?

DM: My interest in realism has stemmed from the current trends in contemporary figurative art.

Eric Fischl, the godfather of modern Realism if you like, has made way for the likes of Alyssa Monks, Damien Loeb and Cynthia Westwood.

They have all made significant contributions to the revival of Realism.

IdR: It is not doubt you have a great, fine technique, David McDowell how do you Broken Strings.

2009. Oil on canvas. 30x25cm tist. For example, get it? Is it possible to be the trouble with a lot autodidact or does everybody needs of students is that they fail to observe good teachers? form. People have preconceived ideas DM: I think it is a mixture of both. I think about how an apple should look, so they we can be taught the knowledge, but to draw their idea, instead of drawing the develop the skill, must come from the ar- apple that is in front of them. Capturing

Interview: David McDowell form is very much about observing; it’s about training your eye, not your hands.

See I can tell you that, but it is up to you to put it into practice and develop it.

IdR: In your blog, you have written about Pierre Bonnard, when did you discover him and why did he impress you so much?

DM: Ah, Bonnard. It was Dr. Louise Wallace at the University of Ulster’s School of Art who encouraged me to study Bonnard in 2007. I was actually quick to dismiss his work at first, but for some unknown reason, the images seemed to embed themselves in my head. Having been so intrigued, I started reading countless reams of Bonnard literature. The more I read, the more I appreciated the complexities of such art work. I think he impressed me so much because his objectives ran parallel to my own thoughts at the time.

IdR: Your apparently sensual ordinary young women turn in your canvas into timeless heroines, are you interested in mythology? Are you looking for the White Goddess by Robert Graves?

David McDowell Identity. 2008. Oil on canvas. 30x25cm

AINTERVIEW RTS/ARTE

DM: *laughs* It is an interesting analysis you have made. I do occasionally enjoy a good tale... who doesn’t? However I don’t deliberately apply the concept of fantasy to my art… perhaps on some subconscious level it happens... but it isn’t an intentional thing. I think too many words can paralyze the viewers imagination. I like to leave the door open… It interests me to hear various interpreDavid McDowell tations of my Behind these eyes. 2009. Oil on canvas. 30x25cm work.

IdR: The colours of but an artist must be inquisitive. your palette have IdR: What are the advantages of a changed in these last three artists’ exposition? Why have paintings? Any rea- you chosen Stephen Johnston and Kyle son? What are you lo- Barnes as partners?

DM: These two artists are emerging as oking for?

DM: As an artist, it is the future of Irish Realism. We all have important to be cu- the same goals, so it seems only logical rious… questioning… that we work together to achieve them. I critical of ones work. met Stephen and Kyle in 2007/08 when My practice is chan- we each attended the University of Ulsging all the time; my ter’s School of Art. With Art College palette, my composi- being driven by a student body focused tion, my conceptual very much on abstract form, we were in motive… surely this is the 1% minority of figurative artists. I pertinent to the deve- suppose we were going “Against the lopment of any prac- Grain” and so there was a mutual bond tice. The industry has between us. I think with three artists, the many painters, sculp- voice of our objective gets heard; it can’t tors, photographers be ignored. etc, but few are artists. IdR: Good luck, David, for you and for What I mean by that is, your colleagues. anyone can paint or DM: Thank you. sculpt or take a picture YAREAH MAGAZINE

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ARTS/ARTE

The Hard Work PHOTOGRAPHY of an Artist http://bernays.moonfruit.com/

W

e watched as the dash display blinked out the temperature. 27 at the turn off to the lonely road, 26 as the sky drained of the lingering light. 23 as the Joshua trees held on to the steep slope. 20 and the dry desert gravel banked with snow. Several tracks were cut into the afternoon dusting on the road. 17 and still dropping and the slush was black, hard ice.

The little car beeped and the green temperature gage was joined by a yellow flashing skidding sign. The speedometer stayed level but we slowed as the tires lost the battle for traction. We slipped, we skidded, we revved and then we came to stop, perched on the black ice like stilettos on glass. And the car started to slowly slide backwards.

There is no rail on the side of this road, just a few boulders and banks of snow from a past plow, and no way to tell the difference between the two. Behind that, just a steady grade of loose rocks and century plants tumbling down to the desert floor. I jumped out of the car. My boots slipped on the black. With thermals, and jeans and three sweaters, a coat, hat and gloves the cold poured into me like a black snake. It rasped at my cheeks and pushed me down the slope. --Rush rush gathering the chainsaw from the back yard, paper to paint on, linens to sleep in. We were almost late for the fifteen mile an hour traffic jam and the gray rain that greeted us on the highway. We sat behind a socking big rig and looked into the windows of the other cars, skis on roofs, bored children with messy faces, too many college kids in one car, smo-

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Amy Bernays

fidgeted in the slippery red bench, eating chips and toys. “Honey, can you grab that box of art stuff from round back?”

He said something while I thanked her, and Brad honked the car from the gas pump. The sky and all the desert around us was turning blue and cold was rolling in.

“Sorry, kids got to it. We have like a toy painting set,” she offered. I finAmy Bernays gered through the Kennedy Meadows ice painting of the dome lands plastic coyotes, snow globes watercolor on cotton paper 2009 and Cheetos. It was hung at the king. The rain chilled and, as we started back, plastic and pink and I paid my $2.99 to climb into the high desert, it started to for a set of Venetian masks, a pot of blue, snow, then hail, then snow again. red, and yellow paint and a plastic stick “Do you have a paint brush?” I asked. She with twenty strands of nylon sticking out cocked her head, pursed her lips and lo- the top of it. Yay!--oked up into the recesses of her mental We had to hike the last mile to the cabin. stock list. She shook her head. The shop We made it over Big Pine Pass in the fowas attached to the three gas pumps on otsteps of past 4x4s and a little way cutthe side of the road. She had thin brown ting our own tracks along the trail from hair and it was scraped back into a kinked the Federal road. But once the drifts in ponytail, the florescent light flickering the trees and the winding hillocks set in green on her smiling rosy face. we were buried.

Dream catcher key chains and laminated The little stove that is the only source of roadmaps fluttered behind the cash re- heat in the one room cabin pours out gister as ice air came in through the old warmth. The logs boiling with sap and fiwooden door. lling the room with the mnemonic smell “Not to sell,” she qualified. “My kids have of pinion pine and holidays. A cocktail a box of that kind of thing,” and then she from an old bottle of vodka that we found called over the chipped counter to the on the shelf, cooled and stirred with an big man sitting in the plastic booth. He icicle. We were warm and tired and happy wore a thick red checked jacket with worn to be 7000 feet. elbow patches and a ‘Fish Fear Me’ base- We both tossed and turned after we had ball cap. Three kids of varying stickiness fallen into bed. A headache and nausea

ARTS/ARTE

PHOTOGRAPHY

the pool of blue that was my darkening sky.

Neighbors from the general store came by for drinks. I staAmy Bernays red longingly at Shards of ice that formed while painting t h e the bearded now circled me and when I stood, stumgun?” I man’s snowsbled, and fell back to bed it sank into my whispehoes as the boys waking mind. The room was thick, my red and I slipped to sleep. talked about the next storm. It was debahead spinning; something was very I ached from shivering as the brightest ted whether it was wise to drive the little wrong. sun bounded about; glimmering on car to the Federal Road, which is plowed Altitude, bad old vodka, monoxide? I every melting icicle and blue tits sang, even on Sundays. The pros and cons opened all the doors and windows in the steaming through the snow-laden limbs went on past dusk and it was decreed cabin. We hid under the covers, the and crisp bacon on the stove. With hot that if it snowed, then that would be a weight of all the blankets and sleeping coffee and too much food unloaded good course of action. bags I could find pushing down on us. from our stranded car, I wore every piece The stove chewed through wood for a The flickering light from the stove as it of clothing I had brought. second night. My sleepy eyes left the tried to burn a little warmth, whisked Fortified, I marched up the hill, and with warmth of the cabin and out through the away by the coldest night that flooded stick that passed for a paint brush I pain- window onto the world. The silent morin. ted the world. Below I could hear Brad ning was billowing in fat snowflakes, drifRustling from outside mingled in my towing out the car with the ’61 pickup, ting onto the forest like feathers mind with monsters and bears, hiding in revving and swearing merrily.

“Shit,” I jumped from the bed and started the shadows out the open door. “Where’s pulling on long johns, “It’s snowing!”

The wind cooled the watercolor I was “What?” one eye opened from under the painting with, freezing the brush to covers, warm against the cool smoke the paper and growing ice shards in cabin air. “How much?”

“Lots.”

Amy Bernays We both Kennedy Meadows wood stump at the dome view began lealounge watercolor on cotton paper 2009 ping about the cabin putting on thermal underwear, hats, gloves and j e a n s , about in that order and began the long journey back.

Amy Bernays Kennedy Meadows log wrapped in snow watercolor on cotton paper 2009 Amy Bernays Kennedy Meadows the dome view before the storm watercolor on cotton paper 2009

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Little greatr museums PequeNos Grandes museos

ARTS/ARTE

DLI MuseuM anD DurhaM art GaLLery Aykley Heads. Durham, UK. DH1 5TU

http://county.durham.gov.uk/ http://www.johnson-perkins.co.uk/ The Durham Light Infantry was one of the most famous County Regiments in the British Army.

For 200 years (1758-1968) soldiers of the DLI served around the world - from South Africa to Borneo, from Normandy to New Zealand.

F

or 200 years (17581968) soldiers of the DLI served around the world - from South Africa to Borneo, from Normandy to New Zealand.

Today the DLI Museum - acclaimed as one of the finest Regimental Museums in Britain. Displays include uniforms, weapons, equipment, photographs and battlefield relics. **The Durham Art Gallery is County Durham's largest modern and contemporary art gallery.

From January until June they have YAREAH MAGAZINE

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an exciting new programme of exhibitions and events exploring fine art, photography, sculpture and film from regional, national and international artists.

They are showing some of the North East's most interesting emerging artists including...

date, filling all three exhibition spaces in the gallery. His work offers a nostalgic gaze at western popular culture, exploring subject matter related to adolescent experiences, including Lego models and 1980’s computer games and TV programs.

His work has a unique and bold James Johnson-Perkins, Meteo- style that is beginning to establish ric Toy his importance in the UK. He has Meteoric Toy is the most compre- exhibited in major art spaces in hensive and ambitious installation the USA, Russia, Japan, Germany, of James Johnson-Perkins’ work to Spain…

Little greatr museums PequeNos Grandes museos

ARTS/ARTE

El Museo militar de Durham (Reino Unido), DLI Museum, muestra la experiencia de la infantería ligera de Durham que sirvió durante 200 años (1758-1968) por todo el mundo: desde Sudáfrica a Borneo y desde Normandía a Nueva Zelanda.

Hoy en día se le considera uno de los mejores museos del ejército del Reino Unido. Se exhiben uniformes, armas, equipos, fotografías y recuerdos de los campos de batalla.

E

l Museo militar de Durham (Reino Unido), DLI Museum, muestra la experiencia de la infantería ligera de Durham que sirvió durante 200 años (1758-1968) por todo el mundo: desde Sudáfrica a Borneo y desde Normandía a Nueva Zelanda.

Hoy en día se le considera uno de los mejores museos del ejército del Reino Unido. Se exhiben uniformes, armas, equipos, fotografías y recuerdos de los campos de batalla. **La galería de arte es completamente diferente y es la mayor y más moderna galería de arte del condado.

De enero a Junio tienen un programa nove-

de exhibición de la galería. Su trabajo ofrece una nostálgica mirada a la cultura popular de occidente, explorando temas en relación con las experiencias adolescentes e incluyendo construcciones de Lego James Johnson-Perkins y sus ju- de los 80, juegos de ordenador y programas de televisión. guetes meteóricos.

“Juguetes Meteóricos” es la más Es único y tiene un estilo audaz ambiciosa instalación del artista que está estableciéndose con pie hasta hoy, ocupa los tres espacios firme en el Reino Unido. Ha realizado numerosas exposiciones en Rusia, Estados Unidos, Japón, Alemania, España….

doso, con muestras de arte, fotografía, escultura y cine de artistas locales e internacionales, entre ellos la obra del emergente e interesantísimo…

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (V) At the beginning of 19th century, the cathedral of Paris was in a state of disrepair that the Council Town had started to think of demolishing it. Victor Hugo wrote then his famous novel “Notre Dame of Paris” with the ugly Hunchback as a main character and people started to see it as a symbol again. A campaign to collect funds and to start its restoration saved Notre Dame of being pulled down.

A comienzos del siglo XIX, la catedral de Paris se encontraba en tan mal estado que el Ayuntamiento había comenzado a pensar en derribarla. Víctor Hugo escribió entonces su famosa novela “Nuestra Señora de París” con el feo Jorobado como protagonista y la gente empezó a verla como un símbolo de nuevo. Una campaña para recoger fondos y empezar su restauración la salvó de la destrucción.

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Little greatr museums PequeNos Grandes museos

ARTS/ARTE

royaL tyrreLL MuseuM of DruMheLLer, CanaDa. Traumador the Tyrannosaur Some might accuse me of being biased. I did hatch and grow up at the Tyrrell. Yet my love of the place goes beyond my childhood memories.

Having now travelled around the world and seen many of the other great museums out there, the Tyrrell still stands out. At least for its Palaeontology and fossils… Which I’ll admit is what I usually am looking for in a museum.

T

he Tyrrell is nothing but Pa- world, but is active in its excavalaeontology top to bottom, tion and research. and is the only major museum Staffed by a whole team of scienin Canada dedicated to just this tists and support staff the Tyrrell subject matter. Which considering takes total advantage of the amaits location couldn’t have been zing geology literally out its backplanned better. Built in the middle door (and elsewhere too mind of the Alberta Badlands, the Royal you). Through these efforts AlTyrrell doesn’t just showcase one berta of 75-65 million years ago is of the richest Dinosaur fields in the one of the best understood pre-

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historic ecosystems in the world.

The best part for museum visitors is that these fossils are brought back to the museum and cleaned off and studied in plain sight of the public.

This in house research guarantees the museum’s displays are up to date and inundated with cutting edge information. Gallery space is

Little greatr museums PequeNos Grandes museos

ARTS/ARTE

Traumador the Tyrannosaur

Traumador the TyranTr a u mador the Tyrannonosaur saur is a puppet www.prehistoricbased character creainsanity.blogspot.com ted by Prehistoric Ins a n i t y www.traumador.blogspot.com (www.prehistoric-insanity.blogspot.com) in 2003. Originally Traumador was used in live performances with children delivering educational programs about science and palaeontology. However at the conclusion of this venue, his creators sought to save him from “extinction” transferred the character to the World Wide Web (www.traumador.blogspot.com). Now anyone can follow the world’s smallest Tyrannosaur through his various misadventures and learn alongside him about fossils, nature, and science in general! one thing the Tyrrell is not short on. With seven halls and over fifty mounted fossils skeletons (plus hundreds of smaller fossils) on display, there is lots to see and learn!

Speaking of learning the museum

takes this up a notch. Helping connect the science end of the museum with its visitors it offers a number of great educational programs and tours. Lead by knowledgeable education staff these include everything from hikes ex-

ploring the fossil rich badlands, creating replica fossils, engaging in a simulated fossil dig, and even a full on summer camp for kids!

There really isn’t a museum quite like it when it comes to Dinosaurs or fossils in general.

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (VI) During the period of the Commune (1871), Notre Dame suffered from vandalism again and in the Second World War (1939-1945), Paris Cathedral was in the point of being destroyed by Hitler’s orders, which were finally not obeyed. The 26th of August, 1944, the Te Deum Mass took place here to celebrate the liberation of the city.

Durante la Comuna (1871), Notre Dame sufrió de nuevo deterioros y en Segunda Guerra Mundial (19391945), la catedral de París estuvo a punto de ser destruida por deseo de Hitler. Pero sus órdenes no fueron obedecidas y el 26 de agosto de 1944, se celebró aquí la liberación de la ciudad con un solemne Te Deum.

Magic Gardens

Jardines Magicos

ARTS/ARTE

“Fearn”, letter “F the aLPhaBet of trees 4

Isabel del Río

Our gardens are full of marvellous trees which have been venerated during centuries. In Yareah magazine/January, we started to know and see their poetic secrets by analyzing Robert Graves’ famous essay “The White Goddess - a Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth” and what he calls “The alphabet of trees” in Celtic Druidic culture (leers were known by the name of a tree which started with its same initial. For example, “duir” -our oak- was also the leer “D” and “saille” –our willow- was the leer “S”). We explained that this al phabet had five vowels and thirteen consonants and the reasons why these last ones for med a magic seasonal calendar based on trees and “Mother Na ture” which was secretly used

by Druids for centuries, even after Christian irruption... they had to hide their magic words and spells of their enemies to prevent their possible aacks, a belief shared by old Greek and Roman religions.

T

he number of January was dedicated to the first holly tree and consonant letter of that Neolithic calendar: to the birch, called “Beth” and which represented the letter “B”. Logically, in the number of February we studied the second tree and letter of the Celtic Druidic alphabet: the wild ash tree, “Luis”-letter “L” and in the number of March, we focused on the third holly tree: the ASH, called “Nion”letter “N”. Now, in April, our protagonist is the ALDER, called “Fearn”- letter “F”.

This tree was and continues being famous because people obtain three good dyes of it: red from its bark; green from its flowers and brown from its branches, what symbolize fire, water and earth.

Alder tree has always impressed people because when we cut down it, its wood, at the beginning white, starts to bleed as the human flesh. In ancient Wales, all of YAREAH MAGAZINE

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the heroes painted their faces in red to symbolize they were holy kings in relationship with the Alder tree (or the god Bran).

In the Northern of Europe, green is associated with fairies and elves, they used to wear green clothes since they hid in the forests running away of their pursuers.

Who were them? Historically, other tribes… We must not forget fairies and elves were survived inhabitants of defeated tribes.

However, the alder is mainly the tree of the fire. It represents the power of the Fire which liberates the Earth from the Water.

In the Câd Goddeu is the symbol of the resurrection. Its buds grow in spiral and during the Neolithic, spirals decorated all of the monuments (dolmens, cromlechs and the bigger palaces of the Mediterranean kingdoms).

This fourth holly tree dominated from the 18th of March (when Alders start to bloom) to the 14th of April (when the Spring Sun dries the Winter floods). In this period, days start to be longer than nights… Sun has defeated Moon… the masculine God is stronger than the White Goddess. We are in the month of virility.

RELOJ DE FLORES

ARTS/ARTE

Wencesalo del Rosario El reloj está en el parque más bonito de Santa Cruz. Fue ideado como un jardín botánico allá por el 1926 y en el 2004 sufrió una completa remodelación que duró dos años, y todavía la polémica dura, ya que cambió totalmente y muchos árboles y vegetación sufrieron el im placable hachazo de las ideas del nuevo diseño del parque.

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n los setenta hubo una exhibición al aire libre de esculturas, algunas de ellas se quedaron en el parque y las ramblas. Aparentemente, la rambla es el mayor museo al aire libre de Europa, pero no me hagan caso, aunque las obras, que son completamente accesibles al público, incluyen un guerrero del Moore, que ya con eso le da un pelín de elite, ¿no creen?.

Cuando era pequeño mis abuelos vivieron por un tiempo en las Casas Amarillas, unas viviendas modernistas justo enfrente del parque. Los veranos nos lo pasábamos allí y lo único que teníamos que hacer era cruzar la Calle Méndez Núñez y ya estábamos en otro mundo.

En esa época no había tanto vandalismo como hoy y los pavos reales andaban sueltos por el parque, había también un pequeño zoo y un estanque con patos que la gente lo único que hacía con ellos era darlos de comer y sacar fotos.

Tiempo después viví en un piso no muy lejos del parque y siempre aprovechaba cualquier momento

que tenía libre para pasarme por uno de sus paseos, o perderme con un libro en uno de mis rincones favoritos, “La Charca de Wenceslao las Ranas, llena de nenúfares, del Rosario mirlos, loros y del continuo croar. Y al fondo los señores Ávido devorador de literamayores jugando al dominó tura y fascinado por esos seres alados presentes debajo del quiosco. en todas las mitologías, Wenceslao Del Ahora, cada vez que visito Wenceslao Del Rosario Santa Cruz, necesito pasarme al (aka ángel descuidado) Rosario menos una tarde vagando por sueña con que un día http://www.fotolog.com/a dueño de su propia ngel_descuidado el parque, buscando nuevos será tienda de libros. Después rincones, reencontrando las es- de estudiar Ciencias Químicas (alquimista frustrado) culturas que han movido des- y de ser profesor de apoyo durante demasiados años, decidió dejar atrás su isla natal (Tenerife) y en pués de la remodelación y 1999 con billete de ida se avalanzó al encuentro de simplemente recordando... otra isla, algo mayor, al otro lado del canal.

Desde ahí sigue soñando y viajando y tomando fotografías, un hobby recién encontrado y que se ha convertido en su nueva obsession.

MYTHS and legends/MITOS y leyendas

Claudius, Nero, and the Imperial succession Tony Keen This short article intends to examine some issues relating to the em peror Claudius’ apparently strange decision in AD 49 to marry his niece Agrippina, and subsequently to advance her son Nero towards the imperial throne, at the expense of his own son Britannicus.

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he first thing to note is the intrinsic bias in the sources against Claudius.

In essence, most sources represent the senatorial tradition. This tradition was hostile to the very idea of the principate, though reluctantly accepting its necessity (the debate in the Senate following the death of Gaius Caligula considered not just the restoration of the Republic, but also, more realistically, the elevation of one of their number to the purple). It was also hostile to Claudius in particular, for two reasons. First, Claudius’ physical disability (sometimes thought to be cerebral palsy) meant that he was believed to be a fool, and senators were unwilling to accept that they had been wrong. Secondly, he took away much of what had previously been the Senate’s responsibility in the running of the empire; like Tiberius, he attempted to cooperate with the Senate, and like Tiberius, often faced stalemate in trying to get them to do what he needed them to do.

But where Tiberius had given up in despair, Claudius took the Senate out of the equation. Finally, the tradition was hostile to Claudius’ niece and wife Agrippina, because it was intrinsically hostile to powerful women.

But however appalling [Nero’s] reputation, it paled into insignificance in comparison with the reputation of Nero’s mother, Agrippina. She was universally regarded as the wickedest woman in Rome – a very

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hotly contested title, but Agrippina won it.

There wasn’t any immorality that she hadn’t been involved in, and there was no crime that she hesitated to commit. She’d been born into the imperial family and, to be fair, that might have warped anybody.

Her father, Germanicus, was poisoned.

Her mother was murdered – so were two of her brothers. Her third brother became the insane emperor, Caligula, who threatened her life. She survived, but I suppose her lack of caution and good sense was down to her background.

This extraordinary woman resolved to make her son Nero emperor of Rome. The existing emperor was her uncle, Claudius.

Claudius liked as wives exciting immoral women, and he had a whole string of them. When the last of them went a bit too far and had to be executed, Agrippina resolved to take her place. She had, of course, all the qualities necessary for the job, and the Emperor Claudius enjoyed all the benefits of wedlock well in advance of the ceremony. So the uncle married the niece, which was of course incest, and created a bit of a scandal in the Senate, which had to be

bribed a bit and threatened a bit. Once Agrippina was Empress she quickly cleared the remaining obstacles out of Nero’s way to the throne, including Claudius himself.

This quote comes from Brian Walden’s 1999 BBC television programme on Nero, from the series Walden on Villains, and gives a common modern view of Nero’s approach to the throne; Walden presents Nero as a usurper, advanced to the principate by his ambitious mother. This is a picture that goes back to the ancient sources. Cassius Dio (Roman History 61.34) says that Britannicus by rights should have succeeded. Tacitus (Annals 12.1-3) and Suetonius (Claudius 26) present accounts in which Agrippina used her sexual wiles to win over Claudius after the execution of his previous wife, Messalina, for treason.

However, behind this tale of tabloid sleaze lie serious dynastic Mark Smalley Pod Vase

MYTHS and legends/MITOS y leyendas

Claudius, Nero, and the Imperial succession politics. Cassius Dio’s opinion is based on the empire of his own time, when the son of an emperor would be an obvious candidate to succeed his father (though the truth is that the Roman empire never formalized the process of succession until the time of Diocletian). Matters were somewhat different in the JulioClaudian period. If one looks at the family tree a different picture emerges. A biological link can be traced between Nero, through his mother Agrippina the Younger, her mother Agrippina the Elder, and her mother Julia the Elder, to Augustus himself. Nero was Augustus’ greatgreat-grandson. The importance of this has been noted by Barrett (1996, p.97), and though Fagan (1998, n.24) is sceptical, it seems to me that the relationship is key to the promotion of Nero.

Augustus, perhaps aware of the weak position only being Julius Caesar’s testamentary heir had put him in, had pushed the blood relationship to himself as an important qualification for the principate.

He first marked out his son-in-law Marcellus as a potential successor, with the intention that the children of his daughter should eventually succeed. For the same reason he adopted his grandsons Gaius and Lucius Caesar. When he adopted Tiberius as his son, he made Tiberius adopt Germanicus; the importance of the adoption was that Germanicus was married to Augustus’ grand-daughter Agrippina, so that the succession, after passing through Tiberius and Germanicus, would revert to Augustus’ blood descendants, as it did with the accession of Gaius. As Robert Graves put it (I, Claudius, ch.13): ‘It was a satisfaction to Augustus that Germanicus … was Tibe-

Tony Keen

rius’s natural successor, and that Germanicus’s infant sons … were his own greatgrandsons. Though Fate had decreed against his grandsons succeeding him he would surely one day reign again, as it were, in the persons of his great-grandchildren.’ Despite the different attitude of Romans to adoption compared to our own (see Jones and Sidwell, 1997, p.216), this blood relationship was evidently extremely important to Augustus. Even the descendants of his sister Octavia, often held up as being significant in terms of the succession, were mainly used by Augustus as husbands, wives and guardians for his blood descendants. Hence, Agrippina could view the principate as her son’s birthright.

A similar connection cannot be traced from Claudius or his son Britannicus to Augustus. Claudius did not even have an adoptive link with Augustus, as his uncle Tiberius and his brother Germanicus had.

He took the name Caesar on his accession, but had no title to it other than that he gave himself and a tenuous descent from Julius Caesar’s father, through four generations of women. He was descended from Augustus’ sister Octavia; but so was Nero. (It is reported that Claudius revived a rumour that his father, with whom his grandmother Livia was pregnant when she divorced her husband to marry Augustus, was actually Augustus’ illegitimate son, a rumour that would allege the blood relationship that Claudius otherwise could not prove.)

This made Claudius’ position very weak.

He came to the throne largely through default, there being nobody better available; only by his promotion had a civil war between rival senatorial candidates

Tony Keen Tony Keen is currently a Research Affiliate and Associate Lecturer with the Open University. He has written widely on Tony Keen Greek and Roman http://tonykeen.blogsHistory and the repot.com/ ception of Greece and Rome in modern popular culture. From July he will take over editing of Classical Association News. He studied at the Universities of Edinburgh and Manchester, and has taught in Manchester, Belfast, London and the People's Republic of China.

He lives in Kent with his partner.

for the principate been avoided. As the young Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus (the future Nero) grew up, he would be a potential focus around which opposition to Claudius could gather. That opposition could be side-stepped by bringing the boy into his own family. By promoting a genuine descendant of Augustus as his successor, Claudius could strengthen his own position. Hence he rapidly made Nero his stepson, adopted son, and son-in-law. The dynastic arguments were so strong that Claudius was prepared to countenance a marriage that was, by Roman law, incestuous. From the moment of his marriage to Agrippina, Britannicus was sidelined. Given the fates of Agrippa Postumus and Tiberius Gemellus (see Goodman, 1997, pp.48 & 54) he may well have recognized that he was effectively signing his own son’s death warrant; but if so he clearly thought a smooth unchallenged succession, avoiding the possibility of civil war, more important.

There were other male descendants of Augustus around; the Junii Silani, Marcus, Lucius and Decimus. Their mother was Aemilia Lepida, who was daughter of the younger Julia, the eldest daughter of Marcus Agrippa and Augustus’ daughter Julia. A number of these were alive in Claudius’ reign, and older than Ahenobarbus (Nero). Why did Claudius not turn to one of them? Well, in a sense, he had. The second son, Lucius Silanus was, until Claudius’ marriage to Agrippina, be-

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MYTHS and legends/MITOS y leyendas

Claudius, Nero, and the Imperial succession trothed to Claudius’ daughter, Octavia.

However, there was something about the Junii Silani that made them unsuitable as imperial heirs. Marcus had been born in AD 14, so was an adult at the time of the assassination of Gaius, who was only a couple of years older. Yet he was never considered a serious alternative to the disabled Claudius. Though the Junii Silani were an old Roman patrician family (they belonged to the same gens as the Junii Bruti, who had produced one of the founders of the Republic and, much later, Caesar’s assassin Marcus Junius Brutus), they seem not to have had great standing with the army. Ahenobarbus, on the other hand, as well as being a descendant of Augustus, and also of his sister Octavia, was a grandson of Germanicus, who had been immensely popular with the army.

Since Claudius’ own elevation had shown the importance of the army in supporting the emperor, Ahenobarbus was a betterplaced candidate.

One might ask why Claudius ever bothered with the Junii Silani at all. It is not very clear, but my own suspicion is that originally Claudius based his hopes for the succession around his son Britannicus.

Lucius Silanus would be a suitable husband for his daughter, but would not prove a rival to Britannicus. Ahenobarbus would be a more significant threat to Britannicus’ succession. Yet Claudius seems to have hedged his bets, and not taken permanent action to remove Ahenobarbus. His wife Messalina may have seen things differently. Suetonius certainly says (Nero 6) that she saw Ahenobarbus as a threat to Britannicus, and alleges that she tried to have the child assassinated.

After the crisis of Messalina’s conspiracy in AD 48 (possibly, though this is complete speculation, inspired by Claudius’ failure to eliminate the growing threat from Ahenobarbus), things looked rather YAREAH MAGAZINE

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different. Claudius’ own vulnerability was apparent, and there was now a cloud over Britannicus as the son of a traitor. In order to strengthen his own position, and improve the chances of a smooth succession, Claudius had to turn to Agrippina and Ahenobarbus. Agrippina subsequently engineered the disgrace of Lucius Silanus, and after Claudius’ death made sure she eliminated his older brother Marcus. (It is notable that Seneca mentions the death of Lucius as one of Claudius’ crimes in Apocolocyntosis 10, passing over the fact that his removal helped Nero’s passage to the throne.)

As an appendix to this, it is worth considering the supposed murder of Claudius

by Agrippina. All the ancient sources suggest this. Josephus (Jewish Antiquities 20.148) makes it a rumour, but Tacitus (Annals 12.65-9) and Suetonius (Claudius 43-6) are quite certain that Claudius was poisoned. The tale, given by Tacitus and as one version by Suetonius, is that Agrippina administered a fatal dose of poisoned mushrooms to her husband. Most scholars accept the murder without question, feeling that Claudius’ death comes too conveniently after the time when Nero was capable of taking the reigns of power himself (yet still young enough that he could be guided by his mother, who hoped to rule through him), but before Britannicus was old enough to do so.

However, a number of points need to be considered.

First, this is exactly the sort of story told about powerful imperial women. A similar accusation was made about Livia, who was alleged to have killed Augustus in a very similar fashion (figs instead of mushrooms). Allegations of poison were easy to make and difficult to disprove. Unless any of the individuals involved confessed, which seems unlikely, the details of the murder can only be hearsay, and are con-

Tony Keen

tradictory in the sources. Some, indeed, must be invention. An example of this is the poisoned feather that Tacitus says was administered by Claudius’ doctor Xenophon, after Claudius had vomited up the original mushrooms, as no poison known to the Romans was that fast-acting.

Secondly, Agrippina had already achieved her objective. Nero was the clear successor, and Britannicus was not a serious candidate. There might appear to have been no need to kill Claudius to secure Nero’s position.

Thirdly, Claudius was gravely ill in late AD 52 and early AD 53, and some of his acts in his last years (see Suetonius, Claudius 46) look like those of a man aware he had not much longer to live. Agrippina had only to wait.

On the other hand, if Claudius really was expressing intentions to put aside Nero, as Suetonius says he was (Claudius 43), then it is not too surprising that Agrippina acted swiftly. She knew, having seen two of her brothers die in custody, that people could be easily taken out of the line of succession, and the consequences would no doubt have been fatal for her and her son.

The case must remain unproven.

References BARRETT, A.A. (1996) Agrippina: Sister of Caligula, Wife of Claudius, Mother of Nero, London, Routledge.

FAGAN, G.G. (1998) De Imperatoribus Romanis: An Online Encyclopedia of Roman Emperors, ‘Claudius (41-54 A.D.)’, http://www.roman-emperors.org/claudius.htm.

GOODMAN, M. (1997) The Roman World 44 BC – AD 180, London, Routledge.

JONES, P. and SIDWELL, K. (eds) (1997) The World of Rome: an Introduction to Roman Culture, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

MYTHS and legends/MITOS y leyendas

Perversiones, mentiras y cintas de vidrio

Cayo Julio cesar Augusto Germanico,Caligula

Emperador romano desde el 16 de marzo del año 37 hasta el 24 de enero del 41.

Tres años al frente del imperio: quizá la leyenda más perdurable que nos ha dejado la mitología romana.

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ucha culpa de este mito se debe precisamente a uno de sus mayores enemigos, Suetonio, autor de la Vida de los Doce Césares, texto en el que hace un retrato (cuanto menos) desfavorecedor del emperador romano. En las páginas dedicadas al buen emperador se describen orgías, prácticas sádicas, prostitución de las mujeres de los senadores... una especie de marqués de Sade (que, por cierto, tampoco era tan malo) a la romana.

Recientemente, y con motivo de la lectura de una biografía un poco más seria y documentada del emperador, descubrí que el verdadero pecado de nuestro emperador fue precisamente el ponerse de parte del pueblo y no del Senado romano (y ya se sabe, las clases altas nunca perdonan estos terribles pecados de populismo).

Acusar a Calígula de sádico era realmente fácil teniendo en cuenta su claro vínculo de sangre con su antecesor Tiberio (que en la isla de Chipre tenía un auténtico bazar de las torturas y despeñaba a familias enteras). Lo de las historias con Mesalina (a la postre esposa de Claudio) y

los caballos (el famosísimo Incitatus) son ya otro cantar. Es bastante probable que nombrase a su caballo senador: ¿qué mejor forma de efectuar una hábil maniobra política y burlarse de un Senado ganando así el favor del pueblo? La verdad sobre Calígula permanece oculta bajo el velo de un escritor que, no lo olvidemos, provenía de una familia de Senadores.

La historia se ha compuesto a base de comentarios y citas, de fragmentos perdidos y sobre todo, de mucha literatura que, lejos de contarnos una terrible (y a veces aburrida verdad) nos tiñe la realidad de mentiras entretenidas y locuaces, de engaños perversos y trampas. ¿Qué sería de ese cine de Hollywood sin nuestro buen emperador romano? El mito de Calígula tiñe cientos de páginas y en sus cuencas vacías miramos al mons-

Rodrigo Martín

Estudiante de táctica y estrategia, lleva años profundizado en las vidas de nuestros héroes legendarios, Rodrigo Martín poniendo especial énfasis en las con- rodrigomartin83@yahoo.es secuencias sociales y culturales que sus acciones reportaron al devenir histórico.

Con esta colaboración para Yareah continúa una colección de doce personajes míticos que a través de mares de tinieblas y campanarios medievales nos intentarán esclarecer nuestro actual tiempo, también de hierro.

truo de un escritor (como el mismo Victor Hugo hizo con don Carlos), no al (probablemente) hombrecillo asustado amante del teatro que fue asesinado por los pretorianos cuando apenas era un joven sin experiencia.

Son los asuntos de la política, son los asuntos de la literatura.

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Music/MUSICA

Hossam Hassan http://www.hossamramzy.com/

Hossam Ramzy was born in Cairo, Egypt. His musi cal career began early, when at the age of three he was given his first drum, an Egyptian Tabla.....

H

ossam's passion and huge talent for percussion was noted by his family, many of whom were themselves involved in the arts. Hossam was encouraged to master his craft and studied under leading Cairo music teachers.

A move to Saudi Arabia led him to joining with many Bedouin tribes which gave the young Hossam a rich insight into the cultural origins of Middle Eastern music and became the inspiration for many of his later rhythmic directions. In the mid 1970's Hossam came to England, and enjoyed great success as a Jazz

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drummer working with many respected Jazz musicians like Andy Sheperd and Geoff Williams. But as he began looking for new dimensions of percussive sounds, he found himself turning full circle back to his first love, the Egyptian Drums, and the thrilling dance rhythms of the Middle East. Hossam then incorporated all his rhythmic experience into creating a new sound that is heard on hundreds of the world leading albums recorded today.

The distinctive sound of his Arabian & North African string arrangements, his percussion and exciting rhythms on his albums caught the imagination of Peter Gabriel and Hossam was invited to perform on PASSION and later US, and has just completed the working on Peter's new unreleased album. Hossam has gone on to work with many top musicians including Joan Armatrading & Mary Wilson.

Hossam is known world wide for creating string arrangements and percussion and produced many songs for the world's leading artists such as: Yesim Salkim, Celick Erici, Cheb Khaled, Tarkan, Rachid Taha, Faudel, The Gypsy Kings and the list just goes on.

In 1994 Robert Plant and Jimmy Page (ex-Led Zeppelin) invited Hossam to bring

together a band of Arabian musicians and work on their reunion album 'No Quarter Unledded' for which he was rewarded a GOLD thena PLATINUM discs.

In November 2001 at the 25th Anniversary of the ARC Music record company, with whom Hossam has released 18 Albums in his own name for the Egyptian dance, he was awarded a PLATINUM disc for being their top selling artist, over 200.000 record sales.

Hossam built his own state of the art recording environment DRUMZY STUDIO, in which he has the latest in recording technolgy mixed in with old;and unique sounds of the best names in recording equipment. With all this available to his finger tips, he can now create many new sounds of the old traditional grooves and Arabian & North African Samples & Loops of which he has no less than 80.000, all in perfect BPM, and ready to use. To date Hossam has recorded and released 4 top selling albums in Drumzy Studio.

Music/MUSICA

The Atlantis String Quartet http://www.atlantisstringquartet.com/

The Atlantis String Quartet under the umbrella of the International Educational Music Performers, is an outstanding group of professional musicians with extensive experience as reci talists

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usic is our life – they used to repeat-. We have been very fortunate to have successful careers as artists in many venues of the music world. We feel that we have a responsibility to contribute to our society. Thus, with our music, we can help educate and to generate the economic means for charitable organizations and artistic institutions.

Sarah Daniels, violist; Jose Dubon, cellist and conductor; Sergio Rodríguez www.sibeliusmusic.com and Norman E. Bernal perform educational concerts in the USA and around the world with innovative programming for all audiences.

Next Concerts: Honduras Embassy Spain April 4, 2009 Honduras Embassy France April 8, 2009 Mexico Chihuahua; International Music Festival October 10-15, 2009

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a música es nuestra vida –suelen repetir-. Hemos sido muy afortunados y hemos tenido exitosas carreras artísticas a lo largo del mundo. Sentimos que tenemos la responsabilidad de contribuir positivamente con la sociedad. Con nuestra música podemos ayudar a educar y a recaudar fondos para organizaciones de caridad e instituciones artísticas.

Sarah Daniels, violista; Jose Dubon, celista y director; Sergio Rodríguez www.sibeliusmusic.com and Norman E. Bernal ofrecen conciertos educativos

Delta Omicron International Music Fraternity; Centennial Conference on Friday, July 17, 2009 at Holiday Inn Airport Hotel and Convention Center in Erlanger, Kentucky, July 16-19, 2009. World Premiere Passages for String Quartet by David P. Sartor. http://www.dofoundation.org/index.ht en Estados Unidos y a lo largo del mundo con un programa novedoso para todas las audiencias.

PROXIMOS CONCIERTOS. 4 de abril del 2009: Embajada de España en Honduras 8 de abril de 2009: Embajada de Francia en Honduras Festival Internacional de Música de México Chihuahua: 10-15 de octubre de 2009 Estados Unidos (http://www.dofoundation.org/index.htm) y tour por Centro América: Julio del 2009:

m Massachusetts Boston; Honduras Association Independence Day September 12, 2009 Central American Tour July 2009

NOTRE DAME DE PARIS (VII) In the 17th century, François-Henri Clicquot installed the first organ in the cathedral of Paris. However, it was rebuilt in the 19th century by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll and modified several times: Pierre Cochereau, for instance, commanded the electrification of the action in 1959, and from 1989 to 1992 another restoration was completed.

En el siglo XVII, François-Henri Clicquot instaló el primer órgano en la catedral de París. Reconstruido en el siglo XIX por Aristide Cavaillé-Coll, se ha modificado desde entonces varias veces: Pierre Cochereau, por ejemplo, mandó electrificarlo en 1959 y, desde 1989 a 1992, se realizó otra restauración.

reviews/criticas

Shelley, Nair and Lawrence Ullattil Manmadhan An occasional reader with lile time to peruse this further, but with some imagination would assume that this title is about a firm of lawyers (into which an Indian lawyer strayed or some such thing) for lawyers are wont to naming their companies thus, in what I would term a singularly unimaginative fashion. But this short article is not about a lawyer’s firm, but about two people and their relation to the Nair’s of Malabar.

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he Malabar c o m m u n i t y, Nair’s in particular has been a subject of great curiosity from Roman times and a number of legends have been attributed to them in traveler’s tales.

Many of them are far fetched and meant for the only purpose of evoking extreme reactions. Books have been written about them, notably by Fawcett and Forbes. Their customs and traditions until the turn of the century, especially the matrilineal and matriarchal lineage was the object of much study by the travelers, for it was a rare place where women were sometimes considered more important in the family system though mainly from an inheritance point of view. This particular (matrilineal) aspect has been the subject of a huge book by anthropologist Kathleen Gough, which I am incidentally in the process of perusing.

Nayar (or Nair) society was reputed in those days to be harmonious and productive, without property disputes and sexual jealousies, enlightened and spiritually favored (Indian renaissance – Pg 89 Almeida and Gilpin). Of course this did raise a lot of questions about

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pol-

yandry and free love amongst a group of people in Europe.

Cameo’s Lusiad’s even tried to portray how idyllic the life style in Calicut was compared to the cheap and gaudy lifestyle of the Portuguese and the Dutch in Cochin. Forbes wrote about the stillness of nature in Malabar and the softness of life, providing a soothing effect without the using of drugs like Opium (!!).

Forb e ’s a c count of the encounter with the bathing lady and the Nair temple and his flight are fascinating for a reader. He called the people handsome, fair and the women well made, sometimes tall but very graceful (in his 1813 version he changes this graceful to ‘masculine’). In short he equated the place to the mythical ‘garden of Eden’ till the next version of 1813.

James Henry Lawrence (a.k.a Chevalier Lawrence – Knight of Malta) living in Jamaica was fascinated by the original (privately circulated) Forbes account and many others. After studying the Nair race, he wrote an essay ‘Nair marriage traditions’ in 1793 and then a romantic novel originally in German as ‘Das Paradies der Liebe’ later reprinted as Das Reich der Nairen. According to him, Nair customs were based on the Freedom of nature. In

Mark Smalley The Plague Doctor

reviews/criticas

Shelley, Nair and Lawrence

Ullattil Manmadhan

Ullattil Manmadhan is an electrical engineer presently settled in South California after Ullattil Manmadhan traveling and living in many countries. His interests are http://maddy06.blogspot.com creative writing with read a histohere. historicalleys.blogspot.com soon changed to uncultured and barbaric, rical bentacand writes At thatunder time adulterous and demeaning (Buchanan pen the name Shelly Maddy.You was counts). Lawrence’s book was nothe longer can contact himmarried at umanmadhan@gmail.com or feeling visit hismito Harriet Westbrook and ‘in thing’… blogs at trahttp://maddy06.blogspot.com/ and historicaEven the published Forbes version about serable about the ‘jail’ institution of marriage. lleys.blogspot.com vels to Malabar (1813) played down the ori- Later he married Mary Godwin only for legal ginal glowing comments and took a more reasons (SL Gladden – Shelley’s textual seductions Pg 127) cautious tone.

Strangely Lawrence and Shelley never visited Dr Prof Robin Jeffrey (An Aussie academic and India though Lawrence had a number of con- keen follower of Nayar society & Kerala) in his tacts with East India Company personnel. essay on the Legacies of Matrliny states thus Schiller (read his play The Indian Exiles) too – Why is Kerala different from the rest of was intrigued by the Nair’s and was probably India? It is a question asked for over 30 years. influenced by Lawrence’s writings about Ma- He states the answer right at the beginning of labar. German writer Cristoph Wieland and Ri- his essay - The place of women in their society chard Carlile often quoted these customs. is, he believes, the key to the puzzle of the Mary Shelly was however not enchanted with “Kerala model”. In his lovely essay he covers the book and parodied it in ‘Frankenstein’. At the path taken by the Nair matrilineal society times, Lawrence was even called Nair La- in Kerala till it was finally abolished in 1976. wrence (W St Clair – Godwins and Shelleys pg He summarizes - Matriliny did not make women rulers of their families, but it did allow 471) Shelley’s interesting letter to Lawrence about some of them a remarkable latitude unknown the book and his opinion about Nair’s can be elsewhere in India.

Ullattil Manmadhan the book, a British ‘Nairess’ known as the Countess Camilla is brought up in Malabar and goes back to London topropogate her ideas.

The novel was read by Friedrich Schiller the famous German writer (a friend of Goethe) who recommended to Lawrence that he publish it. Lawrence himself translated the book into English as ‘The Empire of the Nair’s’ (Rights of women – An utopian romance) in 1811. Alas, the book is not easily available today except for some parts here & there (Unless you want to spend a fortune and buy Modern British Utopias, 1700–1850 edited by Gregory Clayes). Lawrence in his longish and apparently ‘dull’ work entreated Europe to advocate the customs of Nair’s when it came to marriage.

It got some recognition after the famous but unconventional (from a lifestyle point of view) writer and romantic poet Percy Shelley read it. He wrote to Lawrence stating himself a complete convert to Lawrence’s ideas and advocating the abolition of marriage, calling marriage as licensed prostitution. Shelley then referred to these ideas in his Queen Mab (others roundly condemned him for bringing Nair domestic governance to Europe) Unfortunately a lot of things happened between 1792 when Lawrence first wrote the book and 1811 when he published it. The relations between the Malabar Zamorin’s, the Mysore rulers and the English changed. Political factors came into play and the English saw a chance of subjugating the weakened Malabar Nair’s.

Malabar had by then been annexed by the EIC and the British crown. Nair men were soon seen as threatening to the British interests (after various revolts by the Zamorin’s relatives and the Pazhassi raja). The writing about Nair’s soon changed their tone and the once touted customs

Laura Valentino Hand on Face - archival ink jet print - 20x18.5 cm - 1999 YAREAH MAGAZINE

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reviews/criticas

Un Siglo de Cenizas, de Martin Cid Jose Maria Ortega Sanz

El último libro de Martín Cid "Un Siglo de Cenizas" nos transporta al viejo sur norteamericano de cultivadores de tabaco y nos ahoga en un mundo de iniquidad, fingimiento, engaños y violencia.

Y

a en sus primeras páginas se advierte un incorregible gusto por los ambientes malsanos y agobiantes. Tras superar unos primeros momentos en los que los personajes ya se presentan como incorregiblemente malignos, nos adentramos capítulo a capítulo en los que fueron sus orígenes. Los Fiodorovich son individuos duros y callados, marcados por una especie de maldición desde el día de su nacimiento. "Un Siglo de Cenizas" nos recuerda a esas historias de pioneros y buscadores de oro, esas historias de hombres sin honor y sin alma que buscan en la tierra seca el sonido del silencio más estruendoso.

Las generaciones pasan y el autor nos transporta hacia los rincones más escondidos del alma de los Fiodorovich. Saltamos de una fecha más reciente a una más pasada para volver y encontrarnos de nuevo con los que serán los hermanos protagonistas de la historia: Stanislaus, Pierre y Cecil. Ya en las primeras páginas los descubrimos fumando en sus pipas y contando chistes crueles mientras su abuela agoniza... descubrimos las historias y desencuentros de unos personajes extrañamente condenados a agonizar en la enfermedad de su apellido, a sufrir en sus carnes la enfermedad y la fortaleza de los elegidos.

El autor utiliza un curioso sistema basado en el árbol cabalístico (que ya empleó, por ejemplo, Umberto Eco en El Péndulo de Foucault).

Es Stanislaus quien cuenta la historia y será

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éste el encargado de desentrañar la historia de venganzas, arrepentimientos, muertes y familias.

Es una novela plena de sentido del humor, un humor agrio y no apto para espíritus sensibles, pero también un humor corrosivo y excéntrico.

Cábala y tiempo La Cábala tiene como base estructural el estudio del árbol de la vida, un camino a través de veintidós senderos que comunica diez pasos, diez esferas. Cada una de esas esferas representa un paso adelante en el conocimiento humano, y los senderos son los caminos que se han de recorrer para alcanzar estas etapas en la sabiduría.

Muchos consideran a la Cábala como una ciencia esotérica, muchos otros la vienen a considerar un símbolo, otros citan la numerología, dicen otros que contiene la esencia de Dios en el sentido más pitagórico de la palabra... otros simplemente callan.

La última novela de Martín Cid ahonda en

este proceso de conocimiento, en este pleito a la razón. "Un Siglo de Cenizas" es una novela difícil porque plantea un reto al lector: descubrir la verdad que encierran unos personajes sumidos en la más absoluta de las iniquidades. El autor exige del lector no sólo la capacidad necesaria para seguir una trama complicada, sino la capacidad de análisis para comprender a unos personajes difíciles y complejos, unos personajes que, destrozados, se afanan en buscar su propio camino del conocimiento a través de la inmersión profunda en el terreno de la maldad más extrema.

reviews/criticas

Un Siglo de Cenizas, de Martin Cid

Jose Maria Ortega Sanz

Pero estos requerimientos no terminan ahí. Poco parece importarle al autor la trama y sí el estilo. "Un Siglo de Cenizas" es también una novela que busca y se afana en encontrar la belleza de la tragedia y la verdad oculta reflejada en pálida y vetusta crueldad. El protagonista recuerda desde su púlpito lo que parece ser su vida. Él mismo se confiesa mentiroso y sádico, él mismo se condena enfermo hasta la saciedad. ¿Acaso merece vivir alguien así? Los caminos de la Cábala nos acompañarán a lo largo de toda la novela y enseñarán a su protagonista el camino de un conocimiento velado y casi

otros como el fumador que disfruta haciendo círculos de humo en el cielo, se burla de nosotros y nos rescata y nos pregunta otra vez: ¿acaso mereces tú estar aquí, lector? Nos sentimos entre sus páginas saciados y también ocultos: y es que el libro se pregunta constantemente por su propia esencia (sugerida con guiños a otras grandes novelas del siglo veinte). Entre las cenizas nos encontramos a Joyce y a Proust, al siempre presente Faulkner y a muchos más que parecen haber también visitado la granja de los Fiodorovich.

"Un Siglo de Cenizas" es un libro que huye de los tópicos y de los convencionalismos para seducirnos a través de un proceso de maldad y burla. Escuchamos los gritos de los ahorcados antes de morir y nos ponemos también en la piel del verdugo. ¿Tienen derecho a existir hombres así?

Existen, y sus risas aún llegan a nuestros oídos.

Escuchamos sus ecos y miramos sus rostros sonrientes.

-¿Crees que fumar mata? -preguntó Stanislaus Fiodorovich sonriente. Ya las últimas briznas de tabaco se quemaban.

Su abuela había muerto.

Jose María Ortega Sanz prohibido, sólo disponible para aquéllos que están dispuestos a probar los más terribles caminos de la crueldad.

La novela tiene algo de mágico y algo de beatífico también, una mezcla que juega con los tabacos de pipa (el libro reseña los pormenores de los tipos de tabaco para pipa, sus características y sus métodos de cultivo).

Y es que es una obra llena de metáforas, siendo la primera de ellas el humo (que parece envolver a sus protagonistas): como aquel al que le gusta fumar, es incapaz de abandonar un hábito y una estética. ¿Fumar mata?

Es probable que sí, pero también el corazón del hombre sano y corriente. La novela juega con nos-

Mark Smalley Don Juan

Nació en Barb a s t r o (Huesca) en septiembre de 1962, marchándose a los seis años a Madrid, donde reside hasta la actualidad. Se licenció en 1987 por Bellas Artes, deJose María Ortega Sanz dicándose adriavilo@gmail.com después a la docencia como profesor de dibujo en institutos. Ha realizado varias exposiciones y colaborado en revistas como articulista e ilustrador. Su primer libro publicado, fue un ensayo de urbanismo titulado “Proyectos Matritenses. Ideas para el Madrid del siglo XXI”

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Homo svm: HVMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENVM PVTO Por Juan Ignacio Guglieri

M Laura Valentino Back - gum bichromate print - 14x14 cm - 2007

YAREAH MAGAZINE

staff / equIPo

Editor / Director: Martín Cid Arts/arte: Isabel del Río lost paradises/paraisos perdidos: Silvia Cuevas Mostacero homo svum: hVmani nihil a me alienvm pVto: Juan Ignacio Guglieri El Rincón de Pericles: Rodrigo Martín paintings: Mark Smalley, Laura Valentino Contributors/Colaboradores: Niels-Jeroen Vandamme, Emma Alvarez, Leah Whitehorse, Cecilia Ulrich, Paula Mariani, William P. Meyers, Alix Otoole, Richard Brennan, Keith Higginson, Mark A. Rayner, Jose María Ortega Sanz, Elaine Magliaroon, Rachel Dacus, Miguel Ángel Valero López, Víctor Corcoba Herrero, Mark Smalley, Laura Valentino, Macarena Paz Fuentes, Bo, David McDowell, Amy Bernays, Traumador the Tyrannosaur, Wencesalo del Rosario, Tony Keen, Hossam Hassan, e Atlantis String Quartet, Ullattil Manmadhan.

Special Thanks to / Aradecimientos:

Mark Smalley and Laura Valentino for their fantastic works.

al momento para hablar de la fealdad por muy literaria y romántica que se nos antoje. A la vista está la cotidiana reseña gráfica de la última aparición internacional de Carla Bruni. Hay gustos para todo y habrá a quien no le guste. Debe confesarse que ante esos ojos, esos dientes, ese todo con bailarinas viene una y otra vez a la cabeza lo que dicen que dijo aquel ministro de economía, cuando en una fiesta vio a la morena exótica –ésta era morena- que le hizo mandar a paseo la carrera política para prosperar, encima, en el Olimpo de las finanzas: “está para cogerla en brazos y llevársela”.

En fin, parece que no todo está perdido para los de metro sesenta y cinco. Pero hay que olvidarse de destellos azul turquesa y compendios de refinamiento italo-francés. Toca pensar en algo feo. Horacio. Éste va a ser en la presente ocasión. El Esquilino es una de las siete colinas de Roma: allá abajo está el Coliseo. En tiempos fue donde los pobres llevaban a sus difuntos para enterrarlos en fosas comunes. Era un tétrico lugar.

Augusto quiso darle otro aire y cedió amplios terrenos a su amigo Mecenas, que hizo allí bellos jardines. Lo bello y lo feo siempre a la par: la suerte de la fea la bonita la desea. Aquel cementerio lóbrego era conocido como las Esquilias. Pues bien, nuestras feas son dos brujas, de las que habla Horacio concretamente en su sátira VIII, libro I. Canidia y Ságana, que así se llamaban los horripilantes personajes, acudían a las Esquilias para sus negras prácticas, dados los antecedentes del lugar.

Aullaban espantosamente, mientras despedazaban a mordiscos una cordera y excavaban con las uñas la tierra de los antiguos enterramientos. El repugnante espectáculo es puesto por Horacio en boca de la estatua parlante de un dios, que presidía el lugar: la divinidad es la que narra la escena. Dicho dios resulta ser Príapo con sus representativos y exagerados atributos en ristre. El ser mitológico, que da nombre a la patología clínica de “priapismo”, cuenta en verso horaciano que tal fue el espanto, que le causaba la presencia de las brujas, que no pudo evitar que se le escapase un crepitus ventris. Sí, es lo que piensas, pero no es de buena crianza ponerlo por escrito en español. Dejémoslo en latín. El caso es que el estruendo intestinal de tan humana reacción hizo que las presas de pavor fueran ahora Canidia y Ságana, que salieron huyendo. En la enloquecida carrera a Canidia se le cayeron los dientes y a Ságana la peluca.

Juan Ignacio Guglieri Vázquez.

Este profesor de latín, nacido en Madrid en 1951, ha dedicado largos años de docencia a la enseñanza de los rudimentos de la lengua del Lacio. Aparte de esto y de entregarse en su tiempo libre a la holganza, a la que tiene especial afición, según declara, se ha interesado por los estudios de humanismo y pervivencia del mundo clásico.