kkokkolis

Άστρα 2008, Alyse Radenovic, 2008 Ακρυλικό σε καμβά

Κιάλια, Carl Zeiss, Jena, 1918 Φετίχ! Η επικάλυψη από δέρμα δυστυχώς έχει καταστραφεί.

Εστιατόριο Mezzaluna, Άγκυρα Το εστιατόριο που έφαγα απόψε κάτω από τον φάρο της Αφροδίτης ανήκει σε μια μικρή αλυσίδα, εκ των οποίων το αγαπημένο μου βρίσκεται στο πάλαι ποτέ Και της Σμύρνης. Κάθε εστιατόριο είναι γεμάτο με αντικείμενα τέχνης που αναφέρονται στην Mezzaluna (Ημισέληνος). Mezzaluna ονομάζεται και το μηνοειδές μαχαίρι της pizza, το οποίο απεικονίζεται στο λογότυπο του εστιατορίου, με δύο χέρια-Baroque ημισελήνους να το χειρίζονται.

Cascadilla Falls, Archie Randolph Ammons, 1926-2001 I went down by Cascadilla Falls this evening, the stream below the falls, and picked up a handsized stone kidney-shaped, testicular and thought all its motions into it, the 800 mph earth spin, the 190-million-mile yearly displacement around the sun, the overriding grand haul of the galaxy w/ the 30,000 mph of where the sun's going : thought all the interweaving motions into myself : dropped the stone to dead rest : the stream from other motions broke rushing over it : shelterless, I turned to the sky and stood still : oh I do not know where i am going that I can live my life by this single creek.

Ανατολή,Θερινό Ηλιοστάσιο στο Stonehenge, Max Alexander, 2008 APOD 21-6-10 Καλό καλοκαίρι Astrovox!

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Οι κομήτες των αρχών της προηγούμενης χιλιετίας

Τυπολογία κομητών, μεταξοτυπία Mawangdui, Κίνα, περίπου 300πχ

Άποψη του Augsburg με τους κομήτες του 1680, 1682 & 168

Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668 Χαρακτικό σε ξύλο

Cometographia, Johannes Hevelius, Danzig, 1668 NASA/JPL

Τηλεσκόπιο- μπαστούνι, Wilson, Λονδίνο, 1810

Evening Song of Senlin, Conrad (Potter) Aiken 1889-1973 It is moonlight. Alone in the silence I ascend my stairs once more, While waves, remote in a pale blue starlight, Crash on a white sand shore. It is moonlight. The garden is silent. I stand in my room alone. Across my wall, from the far-off moon, A rain of fire is thrown... There are houses hanging above the stars, And stars hung under a sea : And a wind from the long blue vault of time Waves my curtain for me... I wait in the dark once more, Swung between space and space : Before my mirror I lift my hands And face my remembered face. Is it I who stand in a question here, Asking to know my name ? ... It is I, yet I know not whither I go, Nor why, nor whence I came. It is I, who awoke at dawn And arose and descended the stair, Conceiving a god in the eye of the sun, -- In a woman's hands and hair. It is I whose flesh is gray with the stones I builded into a wall : With a mournful melody in my brain Of a tune I cannot recall... There are roses to kiss : and mouths to kiss ; And the sharp-pained shadow of death. I remember a rain-drop on my cheek, -- A wind like a fragrant breath... And the star I laugh on tilts through heaven ; And the heavens are dark and steep... I will forget these things once more In the silence of sleep.

Morning Song of Senlin, Conrad (Potter) Aiken 1889-1973 It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, I arise, I face the sunrise, And do the things my fathers learned to do. Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet Stand before a glass and tie my tie. Vine leaves tap my window, Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree Repeating three clear tones. It is morning. I stand by the mirror And tie my tie once more. While waves far off in a pale rose twilight Crash on a white sand shore. I stand by a mirror and comb my hair : How small and white my face ! -– The green earth tilts through a sphere of air And bathes in a flame of space. There are houses hanging above the stars And stars hung under a sea... And a sun far off in a shell of silence Dapples my walls for me... It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning Should I not pause in the light to remember god ? Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable, He is immense and lonely as a cloud. I will dedicate this moment before my mirror To him alone, for him I will comb my hair. Accept these humble offerings, cloud of silence ! I will think of you as I descend the stair. Vine leaves tap my window, The snail track shines on the stones, Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree Repeating two clear tones. It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence, Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep. The walls are about me still as in the evening, I am the same and the same name still I keep. The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion, The stars pale silently in a coral sky. In a whistling void I stand before my mirror, Unconcerned, and tie my tie. There are horses neighing on far-off hills Tossing their long white manes, And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk, Their shoulders black with rains... It is morning. I stand by the mirror And surprise my soul once more ; The blue air rushes above my ceiling, There are suns beneath my floor... ... It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness And depart on the winds of space for I know not where, My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket, And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair. There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven, And a god among the stars; and I will go Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak And humming a tune I know... Vine-leaves tap at the window, Dew-drops sing to the garden stones, The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree Repeating three clear tones.