Tuesday, February 26, 2013

      Helmut Newton ; an outstanding photographer.




 He was a fashion photograher and his provocative black-and-white photos were a mainstay of Vogue. He established a particular style marked by erotic scenes ,often with sado-masochistic and fetishistic subtexts. It is said that he loved his wife and he used to demote other beautiful women. His work is priceless and controversial as you can see..







 









































Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Romantic period - 'Drama'

Although we know the Romantic Period as an age of poetry, nonfiction prose forms flourished during the epoch. England throughout this period had a vibrant theatrical culture. Theater criticism ,practiced with flair by Hazlitt and Lamb , emerged as a new prose genre. But there were many restrictions limiting what could be staged and many calls for reform. Dramas had to meet the approval of a censor before they could be performed, a rule in place since 1737. Another restriction was that only the theaters royal( in London Drury Lane and Covent Garden) had the legal right to produce 'legitimate'-spoken word-drama, leaving the other stages limited to entertainments -pantomimes and melodramas mainly -in which dialogue was by regulation always ccombined with music. The theatrical culture's demotion of words might explain why the poets of the era, however stagestruck, found drama uncongenial. Nonetheless, almost all tried their hands at the form , tempted by the knowledge that the plays of certain of their contemporaries- Hannah Cowley and Charles Maturin -had met with immense acclaim. Some of the poet's plays were composed to be read rather than performed (closet dramas), such as Byron's Manfred, Shelley's Prometheus Unbound, and most of Baillie's Plays on the Passions,permitted experimentation with topic and form. 

Others were written expressly for the stage ,but their authors were hampered by their inexperience and tendency, exacerbated by the cencorship that encouraged them to seek safe subject matter in the past, to imitate the style of Elizabethan and Jacobean drama.
There were exceptions to this discouraging record. Colerigde's tragedy "Remorse", for instance, was a minor hit and ran for twenty nights in 1813.

The most capable dramatist among the poets was ,surprisingly, Percy Shelley. His powerful tragedy "The Cenci" (1820) , the story of a monstrous father who rapes his own daughter and is murdered by her in turn , was deemed unstageable on political rather than artistic or technical grounds. It had no chance of getting by the Examiner of Plays; indeed, by thematizing the unspeakable topic of incest , Shelley predicted his own censoring.







(The Norton Anthology of English Literature)
 I dreamed a dream 

There was a time when men were kind

When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong
I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth livingI dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving
Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame
He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came
And still I dream he'll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather
I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-p6OH7FoWoQ


A dream within a dream


Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


         ~by Edgar Allan Poe~