Temele deocheate ale timpului nostru. Front Cover. Luca Pitu. Paralela, – pages Author, Luca Pitu. Publisher, Paralela, ISBN, exert an influence, intr-un volum recent, Luca Pitu soloseste sintagma “grupul de la Iaşi” (Luca Pițu, Documentele antume ale “Grupului de la Iaşi (Iasi, ). Read 50 publications, and contact Luca Canetta on ResearchGate, the École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne. A.F. Pitu. Politecnico di Milano. Projects.
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Nature knows better than kitsch and what she does not know better, she forgets ; it simply lacks this possibility – no color combination, no shapes in nature are kitsch. It buries experience in velvet coffins lhca to be open – no one should open that canned void.
Simone Boué, Emil Cioran, Luca Pitu
But don’t make it desirable, for it’s already possible – make a gewgaw out of yourself. It is naked force tamed by numbers.
The land before god chests the avantgarde’s spear. You can’t tell what’s going on in Lluca paintings, can’t make stories out of them. Kitsch links the represented masses and their political representative.
It’s so easy to contract nostalgia for the remote times of the avantgarde. The kitsch object devours the surroundings: Il nous faut deux guerres, et, puis, un Daguerre, pour nous en sortir. The only iptu to narrativize them is to tell the story of your own interpretation of Magritte’s paintings. Ptiu their business goes that well in spite of their accusations and because of them. All these are stories about how we can’t make stories. Their phenomenology builds a secure bracketing out of my own taste – not the taste-already-in-statement, the judgement – but the felt taste, the substantial basis of the statement that falsifies its ground.
You live a kind of quiet knowing that it is there, whatever may happen to this exhausting, cruel, and cold world.
So kitsch presents the unrepresentable, elects governernments, rules with a velvet fist. Indeed, why would you? This wind sweeps concentration way: Blue Moly in improbable fields.
Kitsch is the heroin and heroism of the masses. Your transparent your self Narcisse, m’a b ime. Time is devoid of events, a pure time, at the antipodes of Kant’s a priori – insofar as it is obtained by incontrolable syntheses: Moly’s true and Moly’s blue, she brings relief against inhuman metamorphosis, she’s blue all the way down. However, gadgets are too artificial the most artificial, to be precise, to be found or lost under this sky to be recyclable.
There is no way back from kitsch. It tames, it brings the quiet the one sought afterand happiness in the heart of the syphilistines and delivers them to their elected leaders. Who’s there to weep it? Taste hyperhates the many. For the syphilistine, the kitsch object is an angelic sign which protects him from himself, a symbol of gentle possession.
Gott ist tot – what’s to be done? Kitsch engineers the distance it has to be perceived from, together with the continuous attraction it exerts, that gently undermines that distance.
Exquisite Corpse – A Journal of Letters and Life
It can be perceived in a corner or on a shelf, conveniently far away. As a matter of taste, the global’s split between the hyperreal Atlantiquity and lca syphilistine infrareal. Taste as a faculty – like imagination or memory – is that which lacks in the process of cutting phenomenological ways through kitsch.
Unless you hide – under the crimson moving wounds or under the clean sheet of freckled skin – the scars ptu which history has marked you, you’ll be in the arrieregarde of the avantgarde. But easy going Moly does not pay rent in Atlantiquity this hints to what you know about Atlantiquity, to which I can’t attend verbally ; she’s before that, between you and that remote improbability which is the land of the avantgarde: Pluck out your taste, castrate yourself with Occam’s razor, make theory possible.
Their adoring swallowers, the syphilistines, suffocate and smile, groan and buy. It is taste that which bring naturaleness in the higher states of contemplation and the subject to the understanding of its nature.
Simone Boué, Emil Cioran, Luca Pitu | napalmtop | Flickr
We’re bullies of bliss, we don’t murmur, we state. Idyllique dieu, ce theos-telos de la technique. Your transparent your self Narcisse, m’a b ime Publications: They’re all mad in luva crave for purity; on top of, avantgarde is crazy.