Isidre Nonell's Two Gypsies
Picasso's Blue Period
Noucentisme: The New Classicism
Joan Miro's Woman Strolling on the Rambla in Barcelona
Spanish Civil War 1936
Montserrat means serrated mountain
Ramon Casas
"The victim clings to his murderer and falls in love with him."
"Lately I have thought a lot about the three circles in music. I can pierce the first circle the moment I read the notes, hum a bit to myself, or try something out on the piano. I get the idea and I am already inside the first circle. I pierce the second circle when I listen closely to the music or when I play it more or less correctly. Now comes the third circle. For what is music, in fact? It's speech. But the composer does not speak in words but in symbols, like a dumb man who talks with gestures and hopes that people understand him. He is not sure. He wants them to understand but he knows that signs get through only to someone who knows how to decipher them. This world that the composer tells about is a place, just as my room is a place, or my thoughts. It's usually a secret place belonging to the man himself. As a rule, people usually stand guard over a place like that and don't allow strangers to enter. But the composer is prepared to allow people to enter. The question is, just whom will he allow. I think only someone capable of piercing the third circle on his own. If the listener has the strength and intelligence to pierce through to the center of the music, that's a sign that the listener resembles the artist himself to some extent. Not that the listener is an artist, but he is capable of understanding and therefore he has permission to go inside. His entering will not disturb or mess up anything, but I think that this center is not only a secret place but also a dangerous place. It's a world so beautiful, so pure, that if you go inside you have two problems. First, how can you bear all that beauty and stay alive? And second, how will you manage to get out and carry on living in the ordinary world? I personally am probably not yet capable of entering, at least not on my own, but if I go in with someone else, then it would no longer be private. The whole things would be ruined, and besides, who on earth might I go in with?
"Excuse me, would you like a free ticket to a concert in the Met for 8 pm? It starts at 8 and ends at 9. You can come with us now."
A tall blond-haired man with gentle eyes handed me a 50 dollar ticket to the Hungarian State Fold Ensemble, Hungarian Concerto by Bela Bartok.
An unexplained present of one hour in kind company.
"I was looking for someone to give the extra ticket to, someone who would appreciate it. Not everyone who comes to the Met is interested in music. You looked like a musician."