#armiño

[tsukihowl]

I'm replaying Inscryption

[hightlacuache]

Ex-husbands now.

[manuhigueras]

Estemos donde estemos. Somos de acá.

https://www.anuncios.com/anuncio/armino 

https://youtu.be/gttPckz8w44

[beautiful-basque-country]

Another Olympic medal for a Basque athlete!!!

Yesterday, Bilbo-born Gracia Alonso de Armiño (on the right in the pic) got silver with her 3x3 basket team mates!!

Zorionak!!!

[pinpilinpaux]

And tonight, the final!

[fannyjemwong]

PIEL DE ARMIÑO POR FANNY JEM WONG

PIEL DE ARMIÑO POR FANNY JEM WONG PIEL DE ARMIÑO POR FANNY JEM WONG El abrigo se cae a pedazos, lo contemplo noche tras nochefrente a los espejos rotos, está raído, colmado de agujeros negros.Trato de no ver, de no escuchar.“Podría curarlo, zurcirlo”, me repito a cada minuto,“podría saciar su hambre hasta que brotennuevas mieles sobre la piel que suspira”.Cuento las monedas que guardo en sus…

[enalfersa]

Oliver Twist

Clásicos a Medida “Oliver Twist” es una novela que no debe faltar en ninguna biblioteca que se precie. Puede ser leída por lectores de cualquier edad y de cualquier parte, porque el tema que plantea sobrepasa las fronteras del tiempo y del espacio, y no es otro que el del hombre que lucha por sobrevivir y encontrar su sitio en la sociedad, o lo que es lo mismo, la lucha del débil contra el…

[balkanparamo]

Leonora Carrington, (1917 - 2011) 🇲🇽/🇬🇧

Carrera de hurones (carrera de armiño), 1952 🖼

[marinagolondrina]

Bueeeeno, hice este boceto del Harry del Armiño 👀

Es que con una amiga estábamos hablando de como en Harry Potter siempre dicen que los chicos son guapísimos, y aunque de Draco no lo dicen, si lo describe muchísimo (rasgos afilados, ojos grises, pelo rubio claro, básicamente un elfo de Tolkien xD) y lo comparan con un hurón, como si los hurones no fueran animales preciosos. Conclusiones, a Harry le parece que Malfoy es precioso pero no lo admite (?) Y de eso surgió la idea de hacer un Harry del Armiño, y pos aquí está. Harry del Armiño.

Recuerden, viva en drarry, y que jodan a JK 👌

[besitosconsaboracoco]

Tú no lo sabes… mas yo he soñado

entre mis sueños color de armiño,

horas de dicha con tus amores

besos ardientes, quedos suspiros

cuando la tarde tiñe de oro

esos espacios que juntos vimos,

Cuando mi alma su vuelo emprende

a las regiones de lo infinito

aunque me olvides, aunque no me ames

aunque me odies, ¡sueño contigo!

José Asunción Silva

[pardonruhumugordunuzmu]

De padre canela nació un niño

Blanco como el lomo de un armiño

Con los ojos grises en vez de aceituna

Niño albino de luna

mecano - hijo de la luna

[joseandrestabarnia]

Louis Caravaque (1684-1754) RETRATO DE TSESAREVNA ANNA PETROVNA 1725 Tamaño - 91,2 x 73,4 Material - lona Técnica - óleo Número de inventario - Inv.15157 Recibido del Museo de Artes Decorativas. 1925

El retrato de la hija mayor de Pedro el Grande Tsesarevna Anna Petrovna (1708-1728) fue pintado con motivo de su matrimonio con el duque de Holstein-Gottorp. El propósito del lienzo predeterminó su estructura figurativa, llena de grandeza y solemnidad. A pesar de la sección de la cintura de la figura, el retrato tiene todos los signos de un lienzo frontal. El artista utiliza una composición estática y equilibrada con una línea de horizonte alta, lo que permite que el modelo mire al espectador. Gracias a esta técnica se crea una imagen llena de dignidad y superioridad social. Una figura estática corresponde a una mirada congelada y una expresión facial fría, creando una distancia infranqueable entre el espectador y la heroína del retrato. El estatus de la modelo se destaca por un manto dorado forrado con piel de armiño, una diadema de piedras preciosas y un vestido de gala de brocado plateado, encima de los cuales se escriben desafiantes los signos de la Orden de Santa Catalina. Se ha conservado una descripción de la boda de la princesa y el duque en la Iglesia de la Santísima Trinidad en San Petersburgo, que tuvo lugar el 21 de mayo de 1725. También se menciona el momento en que Anna Petrovna recibió la orden: con un lazo rojo, que, en primer lugar, Su Majestad Imperial se dignó llevar.

A pesar de la naturaleza oficial de la imagen, el maestro transmite con precisión la apariencia de la princesa. Según los contemporáneos, era muy similar a su padre "tanto en rostro como en carácter", tenía cabello y cejas oscuras. Todos coincidieron en la belleza externa de Anna Petrovna, que se combinó con una disposición cortés y afable, una mente penetrante y una educación excelente.

Información e imagen de la web de la Galería Tretyakov.

[hightlacuache]

Ah, yes. The husbands.

[afranciscomiradiezblr-blog]

¡Obras de arte, que me gustan!

Ubicación: Museo Czartoryski, Cracovia (óleo sobre panel, 54,8×40,3 cm). La Dama del Armiño de Leonardo da Vinci, uno de los cuadros más bellos y célebres del Maestro y de toda la pintura. La pintura parece estar conectada de forma dual con el animal. Ludovico il Moro, regente del Ducado de Milán, recibió el prestigioso honor de "Caballero de la Orden de los Ermelli ...

[magneticovitalblog]

La busqueda de mi infancia perdida en un campo de olivos

En el campo de olivos, entre luces doradas, busco mi infancia perdida, mis risas olvidadas, en el perfume del aire y la brisa susurrante, en la tierra que guarda secretos de antaño constante.

Entre los olivos milenarios, testigos de tiempo, me adentro en la nostalgia, en un sueño eterno, buscando en sus sombras la risa de aquel niño, que correteaba libre, sin miedo y sin armiño.

En cada hoja que cae, veo destellos de mi ayer, y en cada tronco rugoso, siento el eco de mi ser, es un laberinto de recuerdos, un canto silente, donde la añoranza y la melancolía se hacen presentes.

En cada rama que se alza, encuentro mis raíces, en cada suspiro del viento, susurros de cicatrices, busco mi infancia perdida, entre sombras y sol, en el campo de olivos, donde el tiempo se deshace en un rol.

Las aceitunas caen como lágrimas del pasado, y en cada una encuentro un pedazo del niño amado, los campos se llenan de sus risas y travesuras, pero solo en mis sueños alcanzo esas dulces trizas.

El sol acaricia mi rostro, y en sus rayos encuentro, los juegos en la tierra, la inocencia sin descontento, pero el tiempo implacable se lleva aquellos días, y solo me queda la búsqueda de mis alegrías.

En el campo de olivos, en medio de su esplendor, busco entre susurros y suspiros, mi niñez con fervor, quizás algún día, en sus sombras y en su aroma, encuentre el tesoro perdido que mi alma añora.

Y así, entre olivos y susurros del viento, sigo buscando mi infancia con ardiente lamento, en el campo eterno de olivos, nunca dejaré de vagar, porque en su abrazo melancólico, mi niñez quiero encontrar.

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Read Along: Prologue

so it begins!! :D

(I am using the Valdemar Gótica edition in charge of Mauro Armiño, and the french text in gutenberg dot org)

Prologue

(The work is dedicated to L.P., Lucinde Paradol, an actress Petrus had loved since 1831)

The Poet sets the scene within his sombre heart. 3 Knights battle in it for its dominion, with ceasless fury. The Poet’s agonic cries only increase the knight’s bloodlust. The struggle will be lifelong, the Poet knows he has no choice in the outcome, and he knows the victory of one of the Knights will be his doom.

The knights represent a classic allegorical theme: the Three Ages of Man. But also three attitudes:

-libertinage and artistic glory,

-religious or intellectual seclusion,

-suicide, a clean death before the world and its ways forces the Poet to compromise himself

They also reflect in a general structural way, the vital paths of our characters. This pattern of the three possible paths, the three ages of men, is very ancient. In western culture we usually start with greek philosophers and matematicians considering it the perfect number, a number that encompassed the three narrative acts. It’s a recurring theme in most religions, fairy and folk tales, and mythology. It is also a number that seems to appeal to how our brains work, easing the comprehension of decades spanning events in narratives: in fairytales, we usually get 3 attempts at the same magical action before the character succeeds, in cinematic editing when a character coughs 3 times, we know the illness is grave enough to be deadly.

Closer in time to Borel, and worth mentioning since we know the author is one of his influences, there’s a Diderot book, The Skeptic’s Walk, that follows this same format. Finished in 1747 but like most of Diderot’s fiction, it was published posthumously, in 1830. In it a philosopher and his friends get lost in symbollic garden paths made of roses, thorns and chestnuts, each representing pleasures of the flesh ->roses, agonies of futile religious deprivation ->thorns, and finally chestnuts-> the wisdom of Philosophy. In a pretty anti-enlightenment move, Diderot’s character ends up running into “the type of blonde philosophers should avoid”(a line that seems out of a noir) an escapee from the path of the roses, she urges him to choose the palpable reality of sensual joys. He agrees, and occasionally picks sensuality over intellectual pursuits.

But enough preambles, let us present our allegorical knights:

Our first knight is “young, fresh and alert” He wears a steel corselet which glistens under a net of green cloth like a glacier glimpsed from between pines. His color, green like the verdant, fertile forest of Youth. But what this luscious fields hide is the frozen desert of the glacier. He is blond, beautiful, his eyes reflect love. His portrait is adorned with refernces to Spain: rides an Andalusian horse whom the the Knight of Youth makes shiver when manipulating his dagger and rondell like a vain toreador. (I don’t feel confident enough yet to try and say what Spain means for Borel, but his feelings towards Spain, the Spanish language and hispanic cultures are usually very positive)(so let’s say these allusions render him more appealing)

Enter the Second Knight. His characterization is compossed of references to christianity and the gothic: He looks like a reliquary. His donkey’s protruding bones make the animal resemble a rosary, covered with a shorn horse blanket that would catch the eye of an antiquary for it could be that of Queen Isabeau, travelling from Bavaria to France (her attire for the occasion was especially lavish)

He is fat, greasy, his breathing: laborious and loud. The anthitetic starving donkey carrying the heavy knight makes the spectator think of Shrovetide carrying Carnival on its back. However, the knight himself is made of anthiteses and contradictions. He looks like a glutton, but wears the attire of a penitent monk. (foreshadowing perhaps a priest in the novel who is not as chaste as he should be) He drags his habit through the ground, staining the holy clothes. He wears the hood because in order to “sell himself to the heavens” he has to conceal who he is or perhaps what he does. While he preaches virtue, sitting with his legs wide open (the expression Borel uses, à califourchon, is possibly composed of the ancient breton word for testicules) on his frail donkey, he is inspired by Sabaoth, the avatar of the Lord when leading the armies of the angels in Judaism. (there are many interpretations of this version of God and this name, and I am not well versed in Judaism, but from the context, he seems to be preaching virtue while sitting in a somewhat obscene manner, inspired by a war-like deity of another religion) He insults, curses and swears, arrogantly challenging his two rivals. These insults are backed by a huge mace. This second knight is completely drenched in blood and kisses a crucifix. To sum it up, he is older, dirtier, bloodier, associated with phallic and christian imagery, his appereance of weakness is decieveing. His attitudes span widely between the pious or the violent.

We meet, finally, the Third Knight. He is like the Comander in the Don Juan mythos, a man of stone. (based on the spanish folk tale of the “convidado de piedra”, the guest made of stone is the funereal monument of the Comander’s grave, who Juan Tenorio mockingly invites to dine after realizing he killed him when the Commander tried to avenge the rape of his daughter. The commander famously represents Death, shows up to Juan’s supper and invites him to dine with him in Hell instead.) He is horrifying and lugubrious. When hit by the other knights, he makes the sound of a hollow tomb. He is pretty much a grim reaper made of stone, he carries a scythe, which weeps streams of blood, carries a hunter’s trap from which a hanged man swings, grimmacing in a grotesque manner. Instead of a scimitar he carries a fisherman’s hook, from which tiny nets filled with worms and larvae hang. (is this a reference to the fisherman imagery in christianity? With an ironic twist because the paradise the stony knight offers is the absolute nothingness of the grave)

The 1st Knight, represents our tangible world. He attracts the narrator with crowns of flowers, and gallantly covers any puddles the poet finds in his path with his cloak, and wipes off his tears.

Now it’s the turn for the knights to address the Poet, and the language becomes erotic: the knight of Youth wishes the poet to give in to him completely, without restraints or remorse. He wants him to dive into his chest, abandoning himself to the oscilations of the vermillion waves within it. He is the joyous, smiling side of the world, which opens itself to the youth of the narrator, revealing a future of magic from which the days of his glory will spring. It’s the world of stars and dreams but also the world of prostitution and voluptuosness. The knight of Youth offers all the pleasures of the World, he will fullfil all of the Poet’s possible desires: voluptuos women, banquets, dances, glory.

The second knight with the kindly air, serious attitude and a face made sombre by loneliness, repressents the Cloister, where the love of the Lord emmanates in streams. The Cloister Knight claims the narrator for himself, because the tangible, sensual World is a mirage, everything in it vanishes like a dream, glory and the dream of posterity are only masks pride likes to wear. It is a vain entreprise to raise onseself a living monument, because the world forgets it all. Carnal love is impure. He must join the Second Knight in the Cloister to presserve the virginities of his soul. The Cloister is not only religious, if meditation doesn’t captivate him, he can always explore wisdom and science, but never Philosophy, (the enlightenment group were notably called the Philosophes, -a word that was used to design an intellectual- and they usually opposed organized religion) which defiles the wonders of Christ.

The third Knight, the eternal leverler, the implacable reaper, whom the narrator strokes and secretly honors, (the only one of the Knights the Narrator tells us openly how he feels about) is the Void: Death. As he is ancient, he adresses the Narrator as a child, and invites him to probe into his earthy body, to drown in his muddy, shadowy chrysalis. He forgets to harvest no grape of the vine of humanity, so why wait until pain has shattered his heart to blow out his candle? Death, the Knight claims, is Our Lady of Joy and Salvation! The grave: the Promised Land. He urges our Poet not to listen to the rhethoric of the Cloister, it promises rest but Man is trapped by his obsessions in it, like Saint Anthony, who suffered tempted like a Satyr in the desert: The Cloister is the same as the World without the posibility of fullfilment or satisfaction. Joy is only possible underground where one is safe from fake friendship, ambition or lost illusions. Absolute nothing is an abscense, a dead lightning, a botomless sea, a void without an echo.

Thus, capitulates the Poet, have combated the three knights for years without quarter. His heart is wounded by this constant struggle because it’s doubtful, religious, crazy, mondain, and unbelieving at the same time. But it’s a matter of time, one of the Knights will vanquish the others and the Poet will perish, a prey of either the World, the Cloister or the Void, and he has no choice in the outcome.

We know all the knights’s paths are fake, Youth appears fertile but conceals a heart of ice, Cloister preaches virtue and science but is a licentious, violent man, Death promises rest, but is shown torturing its victims. The Poet is harrased by the three incarnations of paths he knows are purposely deceitful, attempting to seduce him with mirages. Life, he tells us at the beginning of the poem, is pain in bloom, nothing in life is real or worthy, except perhaps this struggle, and the Poet’s realization that these options are deceitful.