Dourar a melancolia

Sou do tipo de animálculo que deveria hibernar durante todo o inverno para poder conservar a energia vital. Por esta altura, já teria começado a hibernia. Então, desapareceria por três meses numa cova qualquer e só emergeria na Primavera, quando a soberana fome e o canto das aves anunciasse o retorno do sol ao exterior. Durante a invernia, o sol, também ele, está noutro lugar. Passa do convexo ao côncavo do horizonte. Esconde-se cedo para se alojar nos interstícios, para magnetizar as artérias dos animais hibernantes, e consumir da sua cinza, do seu incêndio interno. É um sol vivo, ouro vermelho. A um ser, cuja stamina é tão dependente de estímulo pelo seu sol, a quem é difícil, na estação invernosa, suster-se de pé e expor-se ao recorte da luz (outra luz, outro sol) como uma imagem obsidiante, resta-lhe a noite, mas nenhuma noite é bastante e suficientemente profunda para dourar a melancolia. E esta não é mais do que um efeito sobre a figura de alguém que, desiludida sobre qualquer outro projecto, se votou a perseguir uma estrela.

Mas, hoje, na primeira parte do horizonte que todos os dias e noites têm, sobre mim pairou um arabesco triangular, como um sinal de Dionísio, o leve. Gradualmente, o universo torna-se geometria abstracta.

tiara

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Elegância

«There is already an elegance that consists in perceiving what elegance is. Otherwise, there are people who miss it entirely and what they call elegance is not at all elegant.»

Deleuze, Abécédaire.

No passado recente, um interlocutor apelidou-me de “deselegante”, ao que parece, indiferente à própria deselegância de censurar assim uma pessoa que acabara de conhecer.

Caso se referisse a aspectos externos, até poderia conceder, já que efectivamente costumo secundarizar o culto do aprumo e do modelismo sociais, embora não nessa ocasião formal. Noutros momentos, pratico-o deliberadamente como técnica de filtragem: pessoas que medem outras pelo costume (no duplo sentido da palavra) costumam ser, mais do que frívolas, padronizadoras.

Mas não, a palavra “deselegante” foi usada para reprovar, não uma forma, mas um acto, um acto de autonomia da minha parte. No fundo, creio que o que ele queria dizer era “independente”, mas, como tais termos revelariam demasiado o seu estatuto senhorial e a minha suposta submissão a todo e qualquer capricho do senhor, recorreu a um léxico mais equívoco.

Saberá o que é “elegância”? Duvido. Mas, de certo modo, pode dizer-se que cometi a deselegância de o ter contactado em primeiro lugar. Foi uma má escolha, em que persisti por um tempo e à falta de alternativa melhor, embora já estivesse de sobreaviso.

Ao fim e ao cabo, “elegância” é saber eleger. Trata-se de um processo que começa por saber “ler” (legere) e depois “eleger” (e-legere), não só o “elegível”, como o “int-elegível”, e, após selecção, chegar ao “eleito” e ao “int-electo”.

Elejo (serei mesmo eu?), constantemente o acaso força-me (e com que força!) a eleger, aquilo que mais se afasta dos meus critérios de elegibilidade, como se estivesse destinada a arruinar qualquer tipo de concepção prévia.

E a ideia com que fico de mim mesma é a da água que incessantemente se dirime nas escarpas da falésia e que, de novo, se ergue, sempre renovada, sempre desfeita… com a elegância, e logo deselegância, de uma maré viva.

‘Vita brevis, ars longa’

Francis Bacon, o filósofo seiscentista e não o pintor do séc. XX, inicia a sua Historia Vitae et Mortis com este latino adágio (ad agium, repouso): “Vita brevis, ars longa”.

Contudo, o mais contemporâneo Hermann Hesse atribui a Narciso, o sacerdote, uma longevidade superior à de Goldmundo, o artista, o que está de acordo com os dados conhecidos de longo curso, no contexto europeu:

Median age at death
 Period  Popes Artists
1200–1599 66.0 (59.0–72.0) 63.0
(51.8–71.3)
1600–1900 77.0 (69.0–82.5) 70.0 (60.0–79.0)

Source

No entanto, tal não me permite concluir que Hesse tem mais razão do que os Antigos Romanos.

Quer-me parecer que eles não entendiam o mesmo por “arte”.

Apesar de ser mais contemporânea de Hesse do que da Antiga Roma, não posso deixar de subscrever o dito adágio.

Sem arte, jamais a vida será longa.

E porque deve ser longa? Porque, na breve, cabe muito menos arte. Falta-lhe o tempo e a experiência necessários para atingir um certo grau de perícia.

Por isso, Hokusai (1760-1849), um dos maiores artistas de todos os tempos (a quem o cabeçalho deste blog presta modesta homenagem), que costumava assinar “Gakyō Rōjin Manji” (“Old Man Mad About Art”), antes de falecer com a bela idade de 88 anos, escreveu, no posfácio a One Hundred Views of Mount Fuji:

From the age of 6, I had a passion for copying the form of things and since the age of 50 I have published many drawings, yet of all I drew by my 70th year there is nothing worth taking into account. At 73 years I partly understood the structure of animals, birds, insects and fishes, and the life of grasses and plants. And so, at 86 I shall progress further; at 90 I shall even further penetrate their secret meaning, and by 100 I shall perhaps truly have reached the level of the marvellous and divine. When I am 110, each dot, each line will possess a life of its own.

Apesar de eu já ter lido isto uma dezena de vezes, faço-o sempre com renovada alegria e co-moção.

Ah, e sim, os Antigos Romanos e Hokusai estariam de acordo:

Vita brevis, ars longa…

When I am 110, each dot, each line will possess a life of its own…

‘Humanity, know thyself’, know Julia Pastrana

For the matter of exhibition, it doesn’t matter if you are a Barbie Doll or a Bearded Lady – and, sometimes, you’re better before everyone’s eyes than kept in some hidden place:

«When Julia Pastrana was born, in the mountains of Western Mexico in 1834, her mother worried that her looks were the result of supernatural interference. The local native tribes often blamed the naualli, a breed of shape-shifting werewolves, for stillbirths and deformities, and after seeing her daughter for the first time, Julia’s mother is said to have whispered their name. She fled her tribe — or was cast out — not long after.

Two years later, Mexican herders searching for a missing cow found Julia and her mother hiding in a mountain cave. They took them to the nearest city, where Julia was placed in an orphanage.

Sweet, intelligent, and almost totally covered in black hair, she became a local celebrity. After hearing of her unusual looks and charming disposition, the state governor adopted Julia to serve as a live-in amusement and maid.

She stayed with the governor until she was twenty, when she decided to return to her own tribe. But she never completed the trip home: an American showman known as M. Rates met her somewhere on her journey back to the mountains, and persuaded her to take up a life onstage.

Julia would go on to become one of the most famous human curiosities of the nineteenth century, variously known as “the Ape Woman,” “the Bear Woman,” or “the Baboon Lady.” She made her debut in December 1854, at the Gothic Hall on Broadway in New York City. She wore a red dress, sang Spanish folk tunes, and danced the Highland Fling. Huge, appreciative crowds flocked to see her, although it wasn’t really the singing and dancing they were after: they came to gawk at her hairy face and body, her jaw that jutted forward, her unusually large lips, and her wide, flat nose. The advance publicity billed Julia as a “Bear Woman from the wilds of Mexico!” while others said she looked like an ape. In his book A Cabinet of Medical Curiosities, Jan Bondeson records a contemporary newspaper account:

The eyes of this lusus natura beam with intelligence, while its jaws, jagged fangs and ears are terrifically hideous … nearly its whole frame is coated with long glossy hair. Its voice is harmonious, for this semi-human being is perfectly docile, and speaks the Spanish language.

It’s worth noting that the idea that Julia was half-human didn’t originate with the press.

Physician Alexander B. Mott, son of renowned New York surgeon Valentine Mott, examined her during a private back-room viewing and declared her a hybrid, half-human and half-orangutan. Other doctors agreed.

julia_pastrana

While Julia’s promotional package included certificates from scientists attesting to her hybrid nature, from the start there were those who knew she was entirely human. Anatomist Samuel Kneeland Jr, former curator of comparative anatomy for the Boston Natural Historical Society, examined Julia and declared her all human, and “a perfect woman, performing all the functions of her sex.” In 1857, the zoologist Francis Buckland visited her London hotel room and described her “hideous” facial features but “exceedingly good” figure, adding that she “had a sweet voice, great taste in music and dancing, and could speak three languages.” He added: “I believe that her true history was that she was simply a deformed Mexican Indian woman.”

The most famous English scientist of the day, Charles Darwin, did not go to see her in London, but learned of her existence and of a cast taken of her teeth, which was supposed to show an irregular double set in both upper and lower jaws. In his Variation of Animals and Plants Under Domestication, Darwin compared Julia to hairless dogs, theorizing that skin disease in the animal world could be connected to excess teeth.

Julia, however, didn’t have extra teeth, just thickened gums that made misleading impressions on the casts. Had anyone bothered to ask her about her mouth, she would have explained that she had the usual number of teeth. But almost all the doctors who examined her directed their questions to Lent, while Julia kept silent. (…)

Exhibiting Julia had made Lent a wealthy man, but by then rival showmen, possibly even including P.T. Barnum, began to take an interest in her. Lent decided to make the arrangement with his living, breathing, investment more permanent; he proposed to Julia. (…)

Certainly, Julia’s entire world revolved around her showman: she was not allowed to go out during the day, in case being seen on the street would diminish her earning power, and only travelled to the circus at night wearing veils.

She had very few friends, although she did develop a rapport with the Viennese actress and singer Friederike Gossman, who later said that a “light fog of sadness” always hung over Julia.

Nevertheless, Julia accepted Lent’s proposal. She once told Gossman, “[my husband] loves me for myself.” (…)

Aside from Gossman, one of the few who took Julia seriously as a person was German circus owner Hermann Otto. He visited Julia in Vienna and had a long conversation with her, later recording his impressions in his book Fahrend Volk (Travelling People). He wrote that Julia seemed:

a monster to the whole world, an abnormality put on display for money, someone who had been taught a few artistic turns, like a trained animal. [But] for the few who knew her better, she was a warm, feeling, thoughtful, spiritually very gifted being with a sensitive heart and mind… and it affected her very deeply in her heart with sadness, having to stand beside people, instead of with them, and to be shown as a freak for money, not sharing any of the everyday joys in a home filled with love.

In the winter of 1859, the couple travelled to Moscow, where crowds flocked to their exhibition at the Circus Salomansky. That August, Julia discovered she was pregnant. The baby, which arrived in March 1860 after a difficult birth, was unusually large, covered in hair like his mother, and had the same pronounced lower facial features. Julia was said to have held him and cried.

The baby lived only thirty-five hours, and Julia, who had been lacerated with forceps during the birth, survived for just a few more days after that. The official cause of death was metro-peritonitis puerperalis (inflammation of the peritoneum about the uterus) (…).

julia_pastrana_and_child_dead

At the hospital where Julia gave birth, Lent met a Professor Sokolov of Moscow University. Sokolov was an expert on embalming, and had recently pioneered a technique that blended mummification with taxidermy, creating corpses that still looked rosy and alive. He and Lent struck a deal, in which Sokolov would buy the bodies of Julia and her son, preserve them, and put them on display at the university’s Anatomical Institute. Sokolov kept the details of the embalming to himself, although we know the process took him six months. When the bodies were sufficiently infused with decay-arresting chemicals, Sokolov posed both mother and child standing up, the baby perched on a rod with an alert expression on his face, his mother standing with hands on her hips, feet wide apart, face turned to one side. (…)

julia_pastrana_and_child-ii

Her body stayed at the Anatomical Institute’s museum for only six months, before Lent, hearing how good she and her son looked, took advantage of an escape clause in his contract and returned to take them back. Evidently he realized that Julia could be a money-maker dead as well as alive. (…)

Lent put the bodies on display in London in 1862, where they could be seen for a shilling—less than he charged when Julia could sing and dance, but at least now he could display her for longer periods of time. Again the scientists weighed in: Buckland visited and said “the face was marvelous, exactly like an exceedingly good portrait in wax,” while The Lancet declared the embalming “completely successful.” The bodies went on to tour, and when they visited Vienna, Hermann Otto described seeing his old acquaintance in a “red, silk-like harlot’s dress with a frightening rictus across her face.”

A few years later in Karlsbad, Lent heard of another woman, Marie Bartel, who suffered from conditions similar to those of his late wife. (Today the official diagnosis for Julia’s maladies is generalized hypertrichosis lanuginosa, which produced the hair covering her face and body, and gingival hyperplasia, which thickened her lips and gums). Determined to add Marie to his show, Lent threw a bag of plums over a wall and into the garden where she spent her days. A little while later, he persuaded her father to let him marry her. He promised to never exhibit Marie, but the oath was short-lived. Soon she was singing and dancing onstage as “Zenora Pastrana,” Julia’s “little sister,” with the embalmed mummies of Julia and her son behind her for an added macabre touch.

But perhaps “Zenora” had the last laugh. After further exhibitions throughout Europe and America, the pair retired in St. Petersburg, where Lent began to go insane. At least once, he showed up nearly naked on a bridge over the River Neva, shrieking incomprehensibly, tearing up bank notes and throwing them into the water. Marie had him committed to an asylum, where he died shortly thereafter. As for Marie, she moved back to Germany and sold the embalmed bodies of Julia and child, which then shuttled among fairs, amusement parks, museums, and chambers of horror throughout Europe for decades.

In 1921, Haakon Lund, manager of Norway’s then-biggest carnival, purchased the bodies of Julia and her son from an American in Berlin. They arrived as part of a cabinet of curiosities that held 8,000 other objects, including body parts submerged in giant glass jars, preserved heads, deformed fetuses, Siamese twin embryos, two-headed calves, an entire human skin nailed to a plank, and other choice items. Lund exhibited selections from the cabinet alongside a wax museum of venereal diseases, calling it the Hygienic and Anatomical Exhibition. The show toured through Norway in the 1920s with the slogan “Humanity, know thyself” .(…)

After surviving the war, the bodies went into storage in the 1950s. By the 1970s, when the bodies emerged for small tours, they were frequently greeted by outrage in the newspapers. In 1973 Sweden banned their presence, saying corpses could no longer be exhibited for profit.

This marked the end of their touring days, and Lund stashed the mummies in the carnival’s storehouse near Oslo. Three years later, teenagers broke in and ripped off Julia’s arm, thinking she was a mannequin. The police later recovered the bodies, but Julia’s infant was damaged beyond repair. He ended up in the trash.

Julia’s body re-emerged in the public consciousness in 1990, when journalists at the Norwegian magazine Kriminal Journalen discovered her languishing in the basement of Oslo’s Institute of Forensic Medicine. From then on, the fate of Julia’s body became a fixture of Norwegian newspaper reports and government committees. Journalists, academics, and other officials spilled a great deal of ink debating the merits of burying her versus keeping her body above ground so that scientists might one day study her conditions. In the end, Norway’s Ministry of Church, Education and Research decided to keep the remains above ground, and they were moved to the Institute of Basic Medical Science at the University of Oslo in 1997.

In 2005, Laura Anderson Barbata, a Mexico City-born, New York-based visual artist then on a residency in Oslo, began petitioning the university for the repatriation of Julia’s body. Barbata had become aware of Julia’s plight two years earlier, after her sister produced a play called The True History of the Tragic Life and Triumphant Death of Julia Pastrana, the Ugliest Woman in the World, which is conducted entirely in the dark.

While the initial replies from the university were disappointing, Barbata persisted, placing a death notice for Julia in an Oslo newspaper and arranging for a Catholic Mass to be said for her. In 2008, Barbata was allowed to make her case before Norway’s National Committee for the Evaluation of Research on Human Remains, which agreed that “it seems quite unlikely that Julia Pastrana would have wanted her body to remain a specimen in an anatomical collection.” The governor of Julia’s home province of Sinaloa got involved, as did the Mexican ambassador to Norway, and an official petition for Julia’s return to Mexico was lodged.

In February of 2013, Julia’s body—encased in a white coffin covered in white roses—was finally buried in a cemetery in Sinaloa de Leyva, a town near her birthplace. (…)»

julia-pastrana-buried-mexico

Source

Don’t trust any mediator, specially ‘medical’ ones

«She [Heidi Krieger, now Andreas Krieger] was a victim of the East German regime’s sinister manipulations, exercised through doctors who lied about the purpose of the tablets and threatened to ostracise any young patients reluctant to use them. (…) The steroid Oral-Turinabol had been administered to Heidi in huge doses, often in conjunction with birth-control medication. In 1986, the year of her European gold, she received 2,590 micrograms (…). It was manufactured by Jenapharm, a state-run company since swallowed up by German pharmaceutical giant Schering AG. When Andreas, three years out from the sex change that ended his days as Heidi, discovered the full extent to which he had been doped, he felt consumed by emotion. (…) Andreas was handed a derisory 10,500 euros in compensation. It was hardly adequate recompense for the poisoning of a body, and ultimately the destruction of an entire identity, as he made clear in a tense encounter with the presiding judge. (…) »

Source

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«Or do you want to see a freak show, where it is all a pure fake? (…) You lose yourself utterly. You don’t know where you are. (…) I had overstrained, to the point my body wasn’t giving me signals any more.»

«I don’t think that there is one particular person that I can blame, because, back then, the system was interlinked. (…) I think it is the system itself I would blame for what happened to me. It wasn’t just one person’s fault.»

Andreas Krieger, Olympic Gold medalist.

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«”The coach would give us pills at the pool after training. We were told they were vitamins, and that we needed them because we trained so hard. We were to take them without asking questions, assured that it was for our own good. (…) It’s a worldwide issue. These operations are almost all organised centrally.”»

Ute Krause (his wife, also athlete).

 

Recently, a credulous woman was telling me: “My child needs help with school tasks, because he lacks concentration. He is being medicated.”

I couldn’t but think in the upper video and in how everything is adulterated by additives (and subsequent addiciton) in many different contexts.

When I was young, nearly every adult at home would say to me: “Never, never, accept anything from anyone” (specially concerning oral intakes). This would apply to everyone out of the close familial circle: neighbours, school mates, and so on…

Now, parents are the first to ask doctors: “Couldn’t you prescribe some pills for my kid?”. He has to work harder, to become greater than the others, to be the absolute slave of fame and ambition…

Drugs are the “norm”. That’s why people are so “confused” about everything. Their body-spirit (or “esprit des corps”) is utterly poisoned.