jeudi 31 octobre 2013

Eros in Arcadia


So...



Pasqualino

"While looking at this portrait, my Pasqualino, I remember the happy times we had together, in this small village of Tuscany, lost among fields of olive trees and cypresses, a small village with its old church, with its houses and their ochre walls, with its plazza shaded with plane trees...

I remember the song of the fountain, the shouts and the laughs of the kids, the voice of farmers selling melons and peaches from their orchards...

While looking at this portrait, I am still in love with you, your divine beauty makes breathless and speechless...

Your eyes are still for me the sweetest of horizons, and your lips the most delicious spring a thirsty lover could ever dream about... And your brune and curly hairs are like an enticing forest, full of rare and intoxicating scents... And your smooth face and chest were like an infinite seashore my hands could caress forwards and backwards, following the tides of our desire, the tides of our pleasure...

While looking at your portrait, I am still hearing your voice and your silence, I still feel you so close against me, when during sleepless nights we played together the infinite games of Eros...

I miss you, my Pasqualino... I miss you so much...

Where are you now ?"

Fragment of a novel

Eros (or Angel ?) in Arcadia


Tribe of Teen Boys


Curly hairs


A boy's face


Michel Gourlier. Drawings for "Un certain bonheur", a novel by Hugues Montseugny


 "Il est là, son jeune corps appuyé contre l'arbre, les mains derrière la nuque, la rivière qui coule à ses pieds, ses larmes qui se perdent dans la rivière... Ses larmes... la première chose que remarque François lorsqu'il est assez proche de Christophe.

L'aîné ne sait que dire, que faire. Bien sûr, il pourrait, comme il lui en avait pris l'envie ce matin, caresser les mèches blondes; il pourrait, doucement, de la main, essuyer ces larmes qui coulent lentement.

Une pudeur instinctive le retient. Il s'attarde, lui aussi, à contempler la rivière, et bientôt sent derrière lui Christophe qui se laisse glisser contre l'arbre et s'assied sur la mousse fraîce. Alors, il le rejoint, prend place en face de lui, le regarde droit dans les yeux. A voix basse, il demande:

— Pourquoi ?
— Pourquoi, quoi ?
— Tes larmes... Tu as un mouchoir ?
— Non.
— Tiens — Il lui tend le sien. L'autre ne réagit pas. François, doucement, lui essuie les yeux. Sa main, à peine, effleure le visage. Mais Christophe la sent, et ses sanglots éclatent de plus belle.
— Je ne sais plus, François... Je ne sais plus qui je suis, où je vais, là où je devrais aller, je ne sais plus les chemins à prendre, les bons, les mauvais..."

Hugues Montseugny, Un certain bonheur, Le nouveau signe de piste, Paris, Alsatia, 1977, p. 114-117


mercredi 30 octobre 2013

Choregraphy

Bruno, a 19Nitten model

Henry Scott Tuke

 From Wikipedia

"Tuke favoured rough, visible brush strokes, at a time when a smooth, polished finish was favoured by fashionable painters and critics. He had a strong sense of colour and excelled in the depiction of natural light, particularly the soft, fragile sunlight of the English summer. Although Tuke often finished paintings in the studio, photographic evidence shows that he worked mainly in the open air, which accounts for their freshness of colour and the realistic effects of sunlight reflected by the sea and on the naked flesh of his models.

In his early paintings, Tuke placed his male nudes in mythological contexts, but the critics found these works to be rather formal, lifeless and flaccid.  From the 1890s, Tuke abandoned mythological themes and began to paint local boys fishing, sailing, swimming and diving, and also began to paint in a more naturalistic style. His handling of paint became freer, and he began using bold, fresh colour. One of his best known paintings from this period is August Blue (1893–1894), a study of four mostly nude youths bathing from a boat. The Looe artist, Lindsay Symington (1872–1942), modelled for the blonde boy holding onto the boat in the water; though not a regular model, Symington was a good friend of Tuke, the latter often visiting the Symington family home, Pixies' Holt, at Dartmeet. Tuke painted some female nudes but these were not as successful as his male nude paintings.

Although Tuke's paintings of nude youths undoubtedly appealed to his gay friends and art-buyers, they are never explicitly sexual. The models' genitals are almost never shown, they are almost never in physical contact with each other, and there is never any suggestion of overt sexuality. Most of the paintings have the nude models standing or crouching on the beach facing out to sea, so only the back view is displayed. "

Jürgen

"Why do you look so sad, my Jürgen ?
Why do you look so despaired and melancholic ?
Are you looking at your past, at something I don't know ?
Or are you looking at your future, are you so hopeless about it ?
I know so little about you... You did not tell me your story, why you were wandering alone, as a street boy, in Marseille where I met you a few days ago...
You looked so lost, so clueless that I tried to help you, I did my best to help you,
We had a lunch together, then you came to my place, and you slept for hours...
Where did you come from ? Germany, I guess... Were you a sailor on a boat ?
Were you betrayed by friends, by a friend ? Did someone steal all your money and belonging, did someone steal even your identity and your own story...
You just told me your name was "Jürgen"...
You need time to heal... You need time to recover...
You need time to forget... Time to remember...
I will take care of you... Don't worry, stay with me,
I will respect your silence, you are safe, you need to heal, to recover...
No need to thank me... No need of anything... A smile of yours will be my reward...
A smile, and I will know I can let you go, my Jürgen..."

Fragment of a novel

Youth


Les adolescents d'Elisseos

"Les adolescents d'Elisseos sont réputés pour le dessin de leur corps. Ils travaillent dans les vergers, chassent dans la montagne et s'instruisent des Sciences et des Arts. Ils se promènent le soir sur le port, se tenant aux épaules. Ils sont si beaux qu'ils vous prennent au coeur comme un désespoir".

Claude Michel Cluny, Hérodote éros, Fata morgana, 1984, p. 35


Ephebe


Digital Narcissus


Tribe of Teen Boys


samedi 26 octobre 2013

White heart


You and me... Iconic Pic


Boyology

"If boyology was an academic discipline, I am sure I would be at least a graduate student, or perhaps even a PhD scholar...

Through the years, I became a specialist in boyology... It is a branch of anthropology, between gender studies, cultural studies, art history and applied sciences...

In order to be an expert in boyology, one has to devote many years in observation, in classification, in first-hand experimentation, and in research through museums, art collections and archives...

A boyologist should know the personal history of every boy depicted on a painting, on a photograph, why a pic was shot at a given time, who was the photographer, who was the intended viewer...

He should know how to date each photograph, and to find the story behind it...

He should be able to identify the original source that put a pic on the WWW, and he will follow the impredictable paths of its transmission, through blogs, forums and web sites...

Greek and Latin texts transmission through the last 25 centuries was a very simple process in comparison with the transmission of boys photographs over the last 40 years...

How many pics and collections were destroyed ? How many pics and collections survived in unexpected places ?

What has been destroyed ?  What will be saved ?"

Fragment of a novel




Eery beauty

Loving someone, a man or a woman, a girl or a boy, it is trying to share what is beyond, behind a human being's closed eyes...His or her vision... His or her inner world...

It is trying to share the breathe, the words, the silence of his or her half open lips...

I know the cute boy on this pic will never open his eyes...

It is up to me to imagine the colour of his eyes, as well as the sound of his voice and the taste of his lips...

Salted ? Spicy ? Sweet ?

Island

A cute boy is an island...

Some islands are drawn on current maps, other islands can be reached only by lucky sailors...

Karim

"You were the sea and the shore, the waves and the sky, you were the desert and an oasis of desire and pleasure...

Your skin was warm like sand burnt by the sun, your lips were fresh and sweet like a secrete spring hidden in a forgotten garden...

You were smooth like stones polished by the wind, and your whole body reminded me forgotten flavors of rare spices and scents...

Your eyes were dark like the sky in the heart of the night, while your face was shining like the sun rising over the sea...

My fingers caressed you and found out their way, through your face and your chest, around your tits and down to your belly button, and down, down, down,  to your boyish treasure surrounded by a light brune down...

My Karim, you are the map and the territory... You are Karim and the eternal ephebe, the archetype of the young male beauty so many men felt in love with...

And I felt in love with you... I loved you as the wind plays with the sand, as the sea mirrors the sky, as the day is waiting for the night...

It was so natural, so obvious, so simple....

You and me.."

Al Ghazal, Poems of love (IXth century) - my translation.

Un moment du néant

"Si amoureux des beaux corps qu'on puisse l'être, peut-on leur demander plus que d'orner un moment du néant ? Et pourquoi leur demander plus que ce délectable plaisir !"

(No matters how much one loves beautiful bodies, could we expect from them something more than just ornating a time of nothingness ? And why should we ask them something more than this delicious pleasure ?)

Claude Michel Cluny, Impostures, L'invention du temps, tome III, Journal Littéraire, 1968-1973, Paris, Editions de la Différence, 2004, p. 38.

vendredi 25 octobre 2013

Iconic pic

  R. Voinquel. Louis Jordan

Tribe of teen boys (Germany, August 1941 !)


I would love...

I would love to be the light and to caress gently your hairs, your shoulder and your chest,
I would love to be the wind and to play with your blond hairs and your smooth body,
I would love to be the air you breathe and to be so close to you, to be within you...
I would love to be youth, never I would allow you to be old...
I would love to be the thought, the memory, the idea, the feeling crossing the sky of your soul,
I would love to be the loved one you are thinking about, either a girl or a boy...
I would love to be the swimming pool you will dive in and swim through,
I would love to be the towel that will caress you and dry your whole body...

Red pillow


Photo montage (found on the web)


Quintessence

Of the boys I loved in the past, of the boys I will love in the future,
I keep so precise memories... I remember a smile or a gaze, 
A grin or a pout, the tenderness of an embrace, a smooth shoulder,
Or just legs and arms, like living creepers of a human rain forest...

I remember the taste of a skin, a hoarse voice in the morning,
After a loving night, I remember a smell and a breathe,
I remember what made a boy so unique, so different, so unforgettable...


A shower in the garden

Does anyone know the name of the painter ?
Please, leave a comment !
Many thanks !

Vintage memories

"I miss the happy years of my youth... I miss my friends and our innocence, I miss the tribe of teen boys I belonged to... We were so close friends, for life, until death, and always we were hanging together... Even without a word, we felt so close and I miss so much the warmth of our bodies, our tanned chests and faces, the innocent sensuality in the way our bodies were touching each other...

I still remember today my unsaid feelings and emotions, the way I looked at your beautiful faces, the way I sat so close to you, the way my hand was playing through your hairs or around your shoulder...

We were like young and wild animals, so happy to be free, to be together, so happy to spend our summer holidays together...

We were the best friends in the world, but I was attracted by your boyish beauty in another way, I was unable to express and describe my feeling, I did not know the words to name it...

I just hoped this feeling, this attraction, this sensual longing would disappear...

They did not..."



jeudi 24 octobre 2013

Tribe of teen boys


Temptation


Tadzio


Man and boy


I would be happy if one of my Russian visitors was kind enough to translate in English the legend of this pic...

Please, leave your translation in the comments area...

Many thanks !

Choregraphy


Tribe of teen boys


A reader, in the Woods


Tribe of Teen boys


Pan-pipe player


Tenderness