… the mountain disappears


“I believe in people. I feel, love, need, and respect people above all else, including the arts, natural scenery, organized piety, or nationalistic superstructures. One human figure on the slope of a mountain can make the whole mountain disappear for me. One person fighting for the truth can disqualify for me the platitudes of centuries. And one human being who meets with injustice can render invalid the entire system which has dispensed it […] I believe in man’s unconscious mind, the deep spring from which comes his power to communicate and to love. For me, all art is a combination of these powers; for if love is the way we have of communicating personally in the deepest way, then what art can do is to extend this communication, magnify it, and carry it to vastly greater numbers of people. Therefore art is valid for the warmth and love it carries within it, even if it be the lightest entertainment, or the bitterest satire, or the most shattering tragedy […] We must encourage thought, free and creative. We must respect privacy. We must observe taste by not exploiting our sorrows, successes, or passions. We must learn to know ourselves better through art. We must rely more on the unconscious, inspirational side of man. We must not enslave ourselves to dogma. We must believe in the attainability of good. We must believe, without fear, in people”.

(Leonard Bernstein in “This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women” edited by  Jay Allison,  Holt Paperbacks, 2007)

nella quale l’accadere del mondo è sospeso qua e là

(Cecil Beaton, "Self-Portrait with Mick Jagger"1968)

(Cecil Beaton, “Self-Portrait with Mick Jagger”1968)

«Sensazione di poter comprendere Poe molto meglio ora […]  Grande estensione orizzontale dell’appartamento. Fuga di stanze […] Non è più il cordiale e socievole permanere nella stanza, è invece un esserci intessuti, una tela di ragno nella quale l’accadere del mondo è sospeso qua e là […] è un’ebbrezza vischiosa, in cui le cose sono solo manichini  e odorano dell’ ambiguo ammiccare del nirvana».

(W. Benjamin, “Verbale del 18 aprile 1931”, Sull’hashish, Einaudi, 2010, traduzione di Giorgio Backhaus)