13
0.64%
The work never achieved great success on the stage, apart from in the operatic setting by Debussy, but it was at the time widely read and admired by the literary elite in the symbolist movement, such as Strindberg and Rilke. It also inspired other contemporary composers, including Gabriel Fauré, Arnold Schoenberg, and Jean Sibelius.
xxx/ellauri056.html on line 614: Die Traditionsrestaurants der Straße waren bekannte regelmäßige Treffs für Künstler, Schriftsteller und andere Persönlichkeiten wie: Bertolt Brecht, Wassily Kandinsky, Rainer Maria Rilke, Lenin, Adolf Hitler, Franz Josef Strauß im Schelling-Salon sowie Thomas Mann, Frank Wedekind, Joachim Ringelnatz, Stefan George, Franz Marc, Paul Klee und Lenin im Café Altschwabing, und Seija mit Piki in der Studentenstadt.
xxx/ellauri068.html on line 397: Siinä on Hömppä ihan oikeassa että benziinirengas oli pirun kexintö, öljyinen käärme paratiisissa joka teki lopullisesti lopun karman pyörästä ja korvasi sen Speden muovisella hyppyrimäellä. Kestävää kasvuräjähdystä ennen loppupaukausta tai kenties pihausta. Hölmön Rilken gute Zitate lainaten:
xxx/ellauri157.html on line 575: Die erste Psychoanalytikerin, die versuchte, Buber die Psychoanalyse näher zu bringen, war Lou Andreas-Salomé (1861–1937). Wie wir schon wisssen, war sie mit Nietzsche und Rilke eng beschäftigt, kein Wunder dass sie sich um Bubers tolle Liebestheorien interessierte.
xxx/ellauri176.html on line 73: Other works of art inspired by the life of Phryne include Charles Baudelaire's poems Lesbos and La beauté and Rainer Maria Rilke's Die Flamingos; the opera Phryné by Camille Saint-Saëns; books by Dimitris Varos and Witold Jabłoński; and a 1953 film, Frine, cortigiana d'Oriente. Aku Salmisaari on unohtunut listasta.
xxx/ellauri186.html on line 388: Rainer Maria Rilken syvämietteinen sonetti ´Archaischer Torso Apollos', johon Kepesh nolottavasti päättää monologinsa, sisältänee myös "Rinnan moraalisen sanoman" - jonsei muille niin Pilille itselleen. Tajunta pakottaa tiensä ja tahtonsa halki harmaan kiven, epämuodostuneen ja epätäydellisen aineen lävitse. Muuten ei torso murtuisi ulos ääriviivoistaan kuin pimeä tähti: eihän sillä ole sitä 1 paikkaa jota et siis näe. Sinun on se siihen kuviteltava.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 34:
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 42: Maailma palaa, isoäiti harjaa ainoata hiustaan. Palaan haaskalle kuin koira oxennuxelle eli pilkkaamaan ruipeloa Rainer Rilkeä. Herätteen tähän antoi Philip Rothin Tissi, joka loppuu allamainittuun Rilken homovaikutteiseen törsörunoon. Rilkestä on jo pitkät pätkät panettelua albumissa 50. Se vaikuttaa sietämättömältä juipilta, kalansilmäinen vakavalärvä, napanöyhtää mutustava narsisti. Mikä ei tietystikään estänyt sitä kirjoittamasta vaikuttavaa runojalkaa. Pikemminkin päinvastoin.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 46: Rainer Maria Rilke schrieb das Gedicht "Archaïscher Torso Apollos" (Gedichtband "Neue Gedichte 2. Teil") im Jahre 1908. Ilmiselvä katamiittitapaus.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 48: 
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 51: Bei diesem Werk handelt es um eines der bekanntesten Dinggedichte und ist als Hommage an den Bildhauer Auguste Rodin zu sehen. Rilke arbeitete in den Jahren 1905/06 als Privatsekretär bei diesem bekannten Bildhauer.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 55: Rilke">ARCHAÏSCHER TORSO APOLLOS APOLLON ARKAAINEN TÖRSÖ
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 79: Rilke’s path was more circuitous. Born to a liberal family in Prague when Rodin was 35, the young Rilke was dressed as a girl by his mother and called “Sophie.” (His given name was actually René.) When he came of age, his parents sent him to a military academy in hopes that he might achieve the officer’s rank that eluded his father, but the students there saw him as “fragile, precocious and a moral scold”—qualities that linger with him throughout the book, until he emerges from Rodin’s shadow as a major writer.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 81: Much of Rilke’s youth was spent in search of a master. The first of these was Lou Andreas-Salomé, the philosopher and muse that Friedrich Nietzsche called “by far the smartest person I ever knew.” In 1899, the married Andreas-Salome, for whom Rilke felt a “reckless passion,” took the feeble young poet to meet Tolstoy. The meeting did not go well. Aateliset rähähti, Rilke vingahti.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 83: Corbett’s chapters alternate between poet and sculptor until the pair converge, when the ambitious yet unremarkable Rilke, again in search of a master, travels to Paris to write his monograph on Rodin. Even at this early stage, he was one of many Rodin’s true believers.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 85: Another was Clara Westhoff, the sculptor whom Rilke would later marry and repeatedly abandon on his vocational wanderings around Europe.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 90: Few of these bullshit artists and temporary thinkers were as staunchly individualist as Rodin and Rilke. Their kinship, for better and worse, relied on a shared belief about the vocation of the artist—that it was supreme: no relationship, duty, or family obligation should get in the way of his work.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 92: It seems at times that Rodin and Rilke struggled with the practice of empathy, as if—like their own art—it was a genuinely new and difficult thing to comprehend.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 93: Rilke died 1926 from leukemia in Switzerland. Mutta oliko ne homoja, ja homosteliko ne? Ralph Freedman veikkaa että kyllä. Muut pahentuivat.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 95: We can't really blame Ralph Freedman, Rilke's latest biographer, for writing about his subject as if Rilke were just another infuriating narcissist who kept turning up at parties.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 97: Rilkes motto was "To work is to live without dying." Rilke hated hospitals and the way dying had been stripped of its terrible intimacy there. But--he is dead all the same.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 99: Born in 1875 in Prague, Rilke was until he was six or seven got up in skirts by his mother, who named him René and tried to console herself for the death of an infant daughter. By the time Rilke was ten, his disappointed romantic of a mother had left his father, a kindly but ineffectual minor railway official, who had spent some years in the Austrian army unsuccessfully seeking commission as an officer. Rilke's parents decided to send the young boy to military school, a prospect that stirred the father's hopes of turning his son into a soldier. LOL. Though he later claimed to have loathed military school, the young bohemian warmly absorbed the values of discipline, valor, and self-sacrifice into his ideal of the defiant artist-hero. He skillfully foiled his father's martial expectations, and lack of funds freed the aspiring poet from his family's next plans for him: law school. In fact, though he attended several universities, soaking up lectures on diverse subjects throughout his life, he never graduated from any of them. About such a practical matter as a sheepskin, the finest German lyricist since Goethe wrote as an adolescent, "And even if I never reach my Arts degree / I'm still a scholar, as I wished to be."
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 101: W. H. Auden once remarked that would-be poets had better learn a manual trade. But Rilke was cast more in the haughty Yeatsian mold that Auden, not exactly a day laborer himself, haughtily disdained. And unlike Rilke's contemporary Franz Kafka, who performed his tasks as an insurance executive with initiative and even enthusiasm, Rilke was too frail psychologically to balance his art with the demands of full-time employment. Even a desk job in the Austrian army during the First World War, when the forty-year-old literary celebrity was conscripted, proved too much for him. After three weeks of parade-ground training and living in barracks, which nearly killed him, Rilke was assigned to the propaganda section. There his literary powers deserted him, and his frustrated superiors transferred the stunned poet to the card-filing department, where he remained for six months, until his friends interceded and got him discharged. André Malraux he was not.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 103: Rilke's diaries and letters, lively with tales of self-dislike and depression, seem to out-Kafka Kafka himself. Still, biographers should beware of making too much of these highly polished introspections. Rilke conceived of writing as a form of prayer, as Kafka did, and he made astringent self-examination a ritualistic prelude to work. Both writers magnified their inadequacies, sometimes to the point of a vaunting self-regard; it was an efficient way to wrest from their doubts a diligent beauty of creation.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 105: Rilke lived on the brink of poverty for much of his life, dependent on the good graces of aristocratic and haute-bourgeois patrons in the twilight of the Hapsburg Empire. His shaky situation, much as he complained of it, suited his temperament as well as did the black clothes he liked to parade in during his dandyish younger days in Prague. Like the great German mystics, Rilke was a confirmed solitary. Thus he sought to form emotional bonds with people more ardently than do those who take their desire to be with others for granted. Wandering from person to person and from place to place like a pilgrim, he found that patrons offered him, among more practical things, a potential shrine of emotional fulfillment.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 107: Rilke spent his life wandering. From an art colony in Germany he migrated to a position as Rodin's secretary in Paris; the sculptor eventually claimed that the poet was answering letters without his permission and summarily dismissed him, as much to Rilke's relief as to his chagrin. From Berlin he made two pilgrimages to Russia to meet Tolstoy, on one trip going nearly unacknowledged because of a titanic quarrel between the count and the countess. He traveled from Italy to Vienna to Spain to Tunisia to Cairo. His restless peregrinations had their origins in his epoch, and in a temperament forced painfully to choose perfection of the life or of the work. Rilke's academic sponsor and friend was Georg Simmel, the celebrated German sociologist and philosopher of modernity. In "The Adventurer," one of his most famous essays, Simmel argued that only the experience of art or adventure could invest time with the significance once lent it by religious ritual. The work of both art and adventure had a beginning and an end; they were each an "island in life" that briefly imparted a transcendent wholeness to experience. And of all possible modern adventures, Simmel concluded, the one that most completely combined the profoundest elements of life with a momentary apprehension of what lay beyond life was the love affair.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 109: Augustine journeyed (unhurriedly) from the fleshpots of Carthage, from being in love with love, to the love of God. Rilke, along with other adventurers on the threshold of the twentieth century, traveled from God to a conviction that the only transcendent principle left was the love, erotic and spiritual, between men and women too. Rilke's experience as a young boy with a feminine persona seems in this sense to have been a great boon.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 111: First of all, it provided him with an uncanny empathy for women. His two most potent and obsessive literary images were the unrequited female lover and the woman artist struggling to find freedom and space for her work. But Rilke's liberated feminine side also gave him the gift of unabashed openness to his need and desire for the opposite sex (from women). He recalls Kierkegaard's description of Mozart's Don Giovanni, who did not calculatedly seduce, according to Kierkegaard, but desired seductively. What women found irresistible about Rilke was not the effect he had on them but the effect they had on him.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 113: Yet to put the burden of salvation solely on relations between men and women is to make a life between stumbling, imperfect men and women impossible. Rilke had no illusions about the nature of his erotic and romantic ideal. It flowed out from and quickly ebbed back into an unappeasable inward intensity. Rilke could not love or be loved for long, except in the absence of the beloved. After a passionate affair with the brilliant and beautiful Lou Andreas-Salomé, Rilke's muse and cicerone on his Russian trips, he suffered pangs of rejection and then happily settled into a lifelong correspondence with her. He married the sculptress Clara Westhoff when he was twenty-five, lived with her and their child for a year, and then by agreement left to take up his pilgrimage again. Through periodic reunions, but mostly through a voluminous and extraordinary correspondence, they maintained what Rilke called an "interior marriage," until emotional reality banged louder and louder on their youthful experiment and they eventually grew estranged.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 115: Rilke seems to have passed with relief from the all-consuming rites of romance to the half communion, half self-examination of writing letters, an activity that also served as a calm precursor of his art. Not surprisingly, he was one of the greatest--and most self-conscious--letter writers who ever lived. He composed missives with a devotional purposiveness. He once wrote a poem about the Annunciation in which the angel forgets what he has come to announce because he is overwhelmed by Mary's beauty. The implication seems to be that communicating through the mail would have been a more fruitful procedure.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 117: Rilke loved absolutely, not strenuously or patiently, and therefore his love always froze up into a mirror of itself. His condition might have been tormented and tormenting--it might appear wearily obnoxious. But for Rilke the poet, modern men and women as lovers--their exalted expectations and their comi-tragic desperation--came to symbolize complex human fate in a world where vertiginous possibilities have replaced God and nature. In Rilke's Elegies especially, lovers encounter animals, trees, flowers, works of art, puppets, and angels--all images, for Rilke, of the absolute fulfillment of desire, alongside which the poet placed the tender vaudeville of imperfect human wanting. Rilke the man might have presented a painful obstruction to himself. But true ardor often springs from an essential deprivation.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 119: Ralph Freedman gives a remarkably purposeful account of Rilke's deprivation. But he describes none of Rilke's ardor--or his honest avowals, or all the discipline and strength and health he needed to draw his life's work out of depressions, blocks, and fears, out of his contemporary-sounding struggle between a Faustian ego and an endangered self. In this biography we don't get Rilke's poetic transformations. We get only the modern condition--his and his society's--that he poetically transformed and that we've inherited.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 121: Freedman's Rilke, oddly enough, dwells on the dark underside of contemporary American life. Behind the mingled, multicolored yarn of his passions, obsessions, powerful yearnings, and self-interest--all wisely balanced in Donald Prater's majestic and definitive 1986 biography--Freedman sees only self-interest. Rilke is "hucksterish." His carefully cultivated literary success Freedman characterizes as a "relentless career." He refers to Rilke's "careerist standards." The places Rilke settles in for a time are not homes but Rilke's "bases."
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 123: At moments Rilke's awareness of his self-interest amid modern anxieties appears uncannily precocious: "The pressures even in the preschooler's life were often suffocating. He longed for change." How does Freedman know that? I presume he got it from one of the mature Rilke's self-dramatizing letters, letters that Freedman paraphrases tendentiously throughout the book. That approach has the effect of turning Rilke's harsh and vain self-explorations into evidence of the "traumas" that Rilke spent a life riddled with "failure" denying. Indeed, Freedman writes enigmatically about "Rilke's pattern of living through failure as part of a process that turns denial into poetic art." I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds like success to me.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 125: But no--if, for Freedman, Rilke is a slick little engine of self-advancement, he is also "thin-skinned," "fragile," "depressed," "thwarted," "troubled," "distraught," "schizophrenic," and "almost suicidal," and he suffered from "hysteria," "anxiety," and "insecurity." This poet seems so tightly shackled to his inner condition that we wonder how he found the freedom to make his art. Freedman himself only occasionally glances at Rilke's art, and then with considerable lack of charm, not to say comprehension ("Still addressing the woman's genitals in confrontation with the man's, Rilke weighed in with his most devastating critique of death's dialectic").
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 127: Freedman's Rilke is an almost wholly psychologized being. He has little existence outside his leaden states of mind. We rarely hear about the rich medley of artistic and intellectual influences on him--amazingly, Simmel's "The Adventurer" never comes up. This is an extreme approach to the telling of a poet's life, but Freedman has a method to his extremism. As in a rash of recent despoiling biographies--John Fuegi's life of Brecht, Michael Shelden's of Graham Greene, Ronald Hayman's of Thomas Mann, to name just three--the author shortly puts his cards on the table: in this case we are going to meet Rilke the anti-Semite, Rilke the secret homosexual, Rilke the sexist.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 129: The first strut of biographical art to buckle under such an avenging mission is language. "Death emasculates," Freedman reports dishearteningly. He describes one doubly unlucky fellow as being "fatally electrocuted." We find Rilke seeking the "panacea of a cure." Women almost never give birth--they just "birth." Clara, Rilke's wife, "was the messenger but also the transparent glass and reflecting mirror of Rilke's depression." And what a shame that a sentence like this should appear in a book about a poet's life: "Like garden flowers opening their petals early only to wither quickly, Italy's current art avoided the hard surface required for effective poetry." It's as if, somewhere in the deeper regions of his writing self, Freedman knows that Rilke wasn't any of the bad things his biographer says he was.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 131: One ugly phrase in a personal letter, for instance (out of a vast personal correspondence), referring to Franz Werfel as a "Jew-boy," and some murky generalities about Werfel's "Jewish attitude toward his work," do not an anti-Semite make. Rilke cherished the many Jews he knew, including Simmel; he enjoyed reading the Hasidic philosopher Martin Buber and steeped himself in Jewish Scripture, claiming that Judaism was closer than Christianity to God. He also remained a lifelong champion of Werfel's work. And a reader discovers buried deep in Freedman's footnotes that Rilke wrote the offending letter to the poet Hugo von Hoffmannsthal, a good friend and an important patron. Hoffmannsthal was also Jewish, and he shared Rilke's negative views on the superambitious Werfel, who emigrated to America and, in 1941, published The Song of Bernadette, a novel about a miracle at Lourdes. Freedman doesn't mention that about five months after Rilke wrote the letter to Hoffmannsthal, along with a nearly identical letter to his patron Princess Marie von Thurn und Taxis, Rilke again wrote similar letters to the two of them praising Werfel's poetry so exuberantly that they almost sound like retractions of his first letters.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 133: Why would an anti-Semite extol a Jewish poet to two of the most powerful and influential figures in Central European literary culture--to his own patrons? To paraphrase that great Jewish philosopher Thomas Aquinas, When you meet a contradiction, make a distinction. But Freedman builds from the surface contradiction. For Rilke, he writes, "a cultural and sometimes even a social anti-Semitism was part of daily existence." Yet aside from the letter to Hoffmannsthal, he offers no evidence for that litigable assumption, though he does inform us, with a smug and bizarre knowingness, that one of Rilke's Jewish lovers later died at Auschwitz.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 135: With similarly blind zeal Freedman bases his insinuation that Rilke was secretly gay on two pieces of evidence: the poet's idealistic adolescent pact with another boy at military school, "sealed by a handshake and a kiss," as Rilke put it in a letter; and a fictional letter meant for publication, which brought Rilke, in Freedman's weasel words, "close to a disguised rendering of homosexuality with personal overtones." That's all the proof Freedman has.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 137: Well, so what if Rilke happened to be homosexual? I don't see what Freedman thinks he is gaining by making a near-assertion and then failing to prove it. If there are readers who might be obscurely benefited by the revelation of Rilke's homosexuality, they'll be disappointed. If there are readers whose identity rests on the affirmation of Rilke's heterosexuality, they will be shaken and then cheered. If there are readers who couldn't care less about the whole matter, they'll be bored. Meanwhile, Rilke's ghost drums its fingers on some eternal windowsill, waiting patiently to be evoked.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 139: This is formidable revisionism. The cumulative effect of such a distortion of truth to an admirable, if sadly misplaced, idea of redemption and redress is to make Freedman's biography read like a forced confession. But the beating heart of Freedman's interminable deconstruction is Rilke the sexist. Rilke's extraordinary sensitivity to women, his admiration and need for strong and intelligent women, women's love for Rilke--these facts Freedman brusquely mentions only to knock down. What he wants is to prove that Rilke was a spirited accomplice in European society's subjugation of women. He writes,
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 141: The women Rainer chose . . . were themselves practicing artists whose work he respected, from Clara to Loulou and now to Baladine-Merline. But they were given no choice to remove themselves for the sake of their art. . . . Rilke's love imposed a nonreciprocal discipline: in the end, it worked only for him and his poetry.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 143: Throughout 600 pages Freedman gives us encounter after encounter between Rilke and the women in his life, in which the women are flawless angels and Rilke a consummate villain. If Rilke's dear friend the great German painter Paula Modersohn-Becker found herself trapped in a stifling marriage, Rilke was a traitor for not extricating her. If Lou Andreas-Salomé told the young Rilke to go off somewhere because one of her other lovers was coming to visit, Rilke's anger was the symptom of an unbalanced psyche.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 145: If the adolescent Rilke broke up with his adolescent girlfriend, Valerie von David-Rhônfeld, he was a treacherous seducer. Freedman quotes copiously from David-Rhônfeld's embittered memoirs--published shortly after Rilke's death--to posit a pattern in Rilke's personality. "I came to love that poor unfortunate creature," David-Rhônfeld recalls about her teenage sweetheart, "whom everyone avoided like a mangy dog." For Freedman, this vindictive picture of Rilke provides the "clue" to Rilke's "isolation."
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 147: This is all ludicrously unfair. It's certainly unfair to say that Rilke didn't give the women he loved and who loved him the "choice to remove themselves for the sake of their art." He was in no position to give or deny freedom to his independent-minded wife, let alone to any woman of whom he was merely a lover. Only their passion, or admiration, or use for Rilke bound these women to the famous poet. Often ambitious artists themselves, Rilke's lovers expected him to introduce them into his heady artistic and intellectual circles and to help them with their careers. This he unfailingly did; in one case he helped the careers of a former lover's children by her husband. And he offered emotional succor long after the amorous flame had waned--not to mention demanding the same support for himself.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 149: Rilke's most benevolent patron, Princess Marie von Thurn und Taxis, was wise enough both to nurture Rilke's gift and to keep her distance from her complicated protégé. An unblinking observer of Rilke's life, she was able to see his liaisons for what they were. And she knew how Rilke's acute sensitivity to his own condition, combined with his talent for self-pity, often landed him in the arms of the wrong people: "You must always be seeking out such weeping willows, who are by no means so weepy in reality, believe me--you find your own reflection in those eyes." But Freedman, doggedly indifferent to the available evidence, makes Rilke's lovers and women friends out to be helpless victims of a smooth seduction machine.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 151: As for the centerpiece of Freedman's argument for Rilke's sexism--he "abandoned" Clara and their daughter, Ruth--here he portrays Clara, too, as if she were Tess of the D'Urbervilles. On the contrary. Clara enthusiastically seconded Rilke's definition of two artists wedded as each, in Rilke's cautiously ambiguous phrase, "the guardian of the other's solitude." After Rilke left for Paris, she placed Ruth with her wealthy and supportive parents and went on a pilgrimage to Egypt, among other places. Like Rilke, the adventurous Clara had a fascinating life--I don't know why Freedman didn't write her biography. Women artists suffered in Rilke's society, but not because of Rilke.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 153: We must understand one another or die. And we will never understand one another if we cannot understand the famous dead, those fragments of the past who sit half buried and gesturing to us on memory's contested shores. But Rilke, as a poet, should have the last word (in Stephen Mitchell's beautiful translation):
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 193: Who knew that Rodin in his 60s met, inspired, and shaped Rilke in his 20s? Nowadays, it would be temping to call Rodin a groomer. The poet and the sculptor actually lived and worked together, spent hours criminally conversing, and forged a special bond.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 195: Getting to the point wasn’t exactly Rilke’s forte. It may not be fair to expect that of any poet, especially one born in 1875 and swimming in the currents of the Symbolists. Rilke’s flowery — and daresay twee — verses do not jibe with today’s tastes for cut-and-dry clarity, blasé irony, and Tweet-able brevity. But that’s precisely why Rilke is enjoying somewhat of a posthumous comeback. He offers what Twitter can’t.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 197: But why did aging Rodin in his 60s capture Rilke’s imagination at the turn of the last century? It’s hard to see at first. What made Rodin radical then is no longer radical today. In his “Self-Portrait” (1890), Rodin grimaces amidst rough marks. The picture emblematizes how Rodin heralded raw and unpolished sculptures that were strikingly modern. It was a breath of fresh air since most of early-19th-century sculpture was smooth, neoclassical, and to be harshly honest, predictably dainty. Charles Baudelaire lamented this nadir in 1846 when he wrote his provocative essay “Why Sculpture is Boring.” Rodin went on to prove Baudelaire wrong. He showed how sculpture could be modern with distorted, coarse, rough textures. Rodin knocked the idealized body off its pedestal. And the modern sculptors that came after him saw no reason to put it back.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 199: The pair first met outside Paris on Rodin’s country estate in September of 1902. Rilke, 26, took on a project as an art critic to write a German monograph on Auguste Rodin, at the time 61. Neither probably expected they would hit it off as much as they did. But long talks about art, and how to cultivate a work ethic bonded them together. Ten days into his initial stay on Rodin’s estate, Rilke wrote Rodin an affectionate letter confessing their dialogue’s intense effect. Rodin offered the young poet an open invitation to observe his studio for the next four months. During that time, Rilke not only gleaned insights for his monograph, but discovered how to be a better poet.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 201: Three years later in September of 1905, Rilke took a job as Rodin’s assistant and lived with him full-time on his country estate. For the first time, Rodin’s correspondence was prompt and his files organized. Rilke relished more long talks with Rodin and the book is filled with examples of how Rodin stimulated the poet during this period of employment and intense "dialogue."
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 203: One of the more amusing examples is how Rodin said good night to Rilke. Rather than “bonne nuit,” Rodin would say, “bon courage,” roughly translated to “show courage” or “have good courage,” Or "chins up", but this idiomatic expression is hard to translate. While an unusual way to say good night, Rodin was trying to telegraph to Rilke that he would need to be courageous as he prepared for the night's inevitable challenges.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 205: Predictably, the honeymoon didn’t last forever. A row over a letter Rilke wrote to one of Rodin’s contacts without permission in April 1906 aroused Rodin’s suspicion, so he fired Rilke. But an indelible impression was nevertheless left on the poet.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 207: After a period of silence following the 1906 firing, Rilke and Rodin rekindled in August of 1908. Rilke was now living with Isadora Duncan and other artists in an abandoned convent in Paris, which Henri Matisse had converted into a school and commune. Rodin met Rilke there, spent hours catching up, buried the hatchet, and decided to move in the following month. After the sculptor’s death, the building became Paris’s Rodin Museum.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 211: Rilke loved metaphor unabashedly — even though some of his verses risk feeling
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 212: cheesy by today’s standards. The book’s title You Must Change Your Life is a case in point. It’s the last lines in Rilke’s “Archaic Torso of Apollo.”
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 217: Rodin had a penchant for antiquities. A picture from the archives of Paris’s Rodin Museum shows Rilke, Rodin, Rodin’s wife, and dogs with some headless torsos behind them.
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 219: We will never know whether Rilke had Rodin in mind when he wrote. But it’s undeniable a lot went well when he met Rodin. And while an artist taking on a protégé is not unique, that Rodin and Rilke bonded despite differing languages, ages, and artistic disciplines is noteworthy. As Rilke wrote to Kappus, “in the deepest and most important places, we are unspeakably alone; and many things must happen, many things must go right, a whole dark constellation of events must be fulfilled, for one human being to successfully enter another. ”
xxx/ellauri187.html on line 222: Rilke">Kojootti flamingotarhassa
xxx/ellauri199.html on line 303: Have you read these poets? Philip Larkin • Emily Dickinson • Edgar Allan Poe • T S Eliot • Rabindranath Tagore • Ogden Nash • Amir Khusro • Khalil Gibran • Rainer Maria Rilke • Edgar Albert Guest • Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi • William Blake • Maya Angelou • John Masefield • Rudyard Kipling • Anne Sexton • Sarojini Naidu • John Keats • Walt Whitman • Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
xxx/ellauri199.html on line 306: Dickinson, Poe, Eliot, Tagore, Gibran, Rilke, Rumi, Blake, Kipling, Keats, Whitman, Longfellow.
xxx/ellauri199.html on line 308: Have you read these poets? Pablo Neruda • Robert Frost • William Butler Yeats • Dylan Thomas • E.e. cummings • Spike Milligan • William Wordsworth • Alfred Lord Tennyson • Langston Hughes • W H Auden • Philip Larkin • Emily Dickinson • Edgar Allan Poe • T S Eliot • Rabindranath Tagore • Ogden Nash • Amir Khusro • Khalil Gibran • Rainer Maria Rilke • Edgar Albert Guest
xxx/ellauri212.html on line 432: famous artists and writers, including Rilke, André Gide
xxx/ellauri212.html on line 446: Balthusin molemmat vanhemmat olivat taiteilijoita. Vahvimmat vaikutteensa hän kuitenkin sai perheystävältään runoilija Rainer Maria Rilkeltä. Balthus muutti Pariisiin vuonna 1924, opiskeli maalausta omin päin, kuvasi töissään lapsia ja mukaili impressionisteja. Myöhemminkin, kypsällä kaudellaan hän kuvasi usein nuoria tyttöjä ja heidän herkkää eroottisuuttaan. Eli Balthusin porsliinit on taidetta, mut alla oleva tuheron jynssääjä on pornoa. Mikä erona? No juu tietysti, tässä kuvassa näkyy pensseli.
xxx/ellauri225.html on line 410: Crane´s critical effort, like those of Keats and Rilke, is mostly to be found in his letters: he corresponded regularly with Allen Tate, Yvor Winters, and Gorham Munson, and shared critical dialogues with Eugene O´Neill, William Carlos Williams, E. E. Cummings, Sherwood Anderson, Kenneth Burke, Waldo Frank, Harriet Monroe, Marianne Moore, and Gertrude Stein. He was also an acquaintance of H. P. Lovecraft, who eventually would voice concern over Crane´s premature aging due to alcohol abuse. Most serious work on Crane begins with his letters, selections of which are available in many editions of his poetry; his letters to Munson, Tate, Winters, and his patron, Otto Hermann Kahn, are particularly insightful. His two most famous stylistic defenses emerged from correspondences: his "General Aims and Theories" (1925) was written to urge Eugene O´Neill´s critical foreword to White Buildings, then passed around among friends, yet unpublished during Crane´s life; and the famous "Letter to Harriet Monroe" (1926) was part of an exchange for the publication of "At Melville´s Tomb" in Poetry. The literary critic Adam Kirsch has argued that "Crane has been a special case in the canon of American modernism, because his reputation was never quite as secure as that of Eliot or Stevens. In fact he FAILED."
xxx/ellauri255.html on line 542: Meleenainen Jomppa päästää sairaalassa pahanhajuisia pieruja. Mies paukkuu niin että kävyt tippuu puista. Amokin s. 148-149 luetellaan salanimillä koko suomalaisten kynämiesten ryyppyporukka. En niistä montaa tunnista. No Silvonen joka lausuu Rilkeä on Lassi Sinkkonen, sen arvaa änkytyxestä.
xxx/ellauri356.html on line 436: Toukokuussa 1926 Tsvetaeva aloitti Boris Pasternakin aloitteesta kirjeenvaihdon itävaltalaisen runoilijan Rainer Maria Rilken kanssa, joka silloin asui Sveitsissä. Tämä kirjeenvaihto päättyi saman vuoden lopussa Rilken kuolemaan. 1930-luvulta lähtien Tsvetaeva ja hänen perheensä olivat eläneet lähes köyhyydessä. Salome Andronikova auttoi häntä hieman taloudellisesti.
xxx/ellauri363.html on line 126: Gadamerin ja Heideggerin väliset erot tulevat selkeimmiksi heidän erilaisista lähestymistavoistaan runoilijoihin, kuten Hölderliniin. Gadamer on kirjoittanut laajasti runoilijoista Celan, Goethe, Hölderlin ja Rilke.
119