the ou-tulsa center for studies in democracy and culture
The Museums of Our Lives.
No ve el cielo negro y el mar encolerizado, no nota las tablas agitadas, y bien poco escucha ni atiende al lejano rumor de la poderosa ballena, que ya, con la boca abierta, surca el mar persiguiéndole.
The page is part of the Musées Privés series.
This green bowl from Japan reflects the restraint and simplicity of the Japanese esthetic. (The base appears to be Chinese and contrasts with the simplicty of the bowl, though the colors are complementary).
Mr. Schmidt foretold the future.
When my wife and I were young and lived in an apartment we would sometimes include a browse at Schmidt's Antiques on our Saturday rounds. It was in an old building, long gone, over by TU. It occupied two floors and was full of European furniture that Mr. Schmidt had bought in Europe for his store in Tulsa. One Saturday we were taken by an Austrian display cabinet that was quite elegant, but in a simple way. It was a size that would fit into the space in our apartment and we were tempted to buy it, but we told Mr. Schmidt that we had nothing to put in a display cabinet. "Those things will come", he assured us. I can still hear his words. Now that we are towards the other end of our lives, I remeber Mr. Schmidt's prescience as I think to myself, "What are we going to do with all this stuff?" But, of course, it is not just "stuff"...
It is a museum of our lives.
When my wife and I were young and lived in an apartment we would sometimes include a browse at Schmidt's Antiques on our Saturday rounds. It was in an old building, long gone, over by TU. It occupied two floors and was full of European furniture that Mr. Schmidt had bought in Europe for his store in Tulsa. One Saturday we were taken by an Austrian display cabinet that was quite elegant, but in a simple way. It was a size that would fit into the space in our apartment and we were tempted to buy it, but we told Mr. Schmidt that we had nothing to put in a display cabinet. "Those things will come", he assured us. I can still hear his words. Now that we are towards the other end of our lives, I remeber Mr. Schmidt's prescience as I think to myself, "What are we going to do with all this stuff?" But, of course, it is not just "stuff"...
It is a museum of our lives.
Small plate from Taiwan, made during the Japanese occupation of the island. It shows the curious melding of two very different styles.
Most of us surround ourselves in our homes and offices with our own little museum of our lives. There may be a big collection in the museum, or just a few things, but every item evokes a time or an event in our lives worth remembering. To each of us the exhibits in the museum have meaning that is deeply personal, meaning that is unimaginable to visitors. It is our own private museum and the things in it are just for us.
Most of us surround ourselves in our homes and offices with our own little museum of our lives. There may be a big collection in the museum, or just a few things, but every item evokes a time or an event in our lives worth remembering. To each of us the exhibits in the museum have meaning that is deeply personal, meaning that is unimaginable to visitors. It is our own private museum and the things in it are just for us.
Detail of hand carving on a gourd. Guatemala.
O conteúdo de class "captionInside" é inserido aqui
Detail of hand carving on a gourd. Guatemala.
The inspiration for the Museés Privés series of pages comes from the paulismo (and saudoismo) artistic currents among early 20th century Portuguese intellectuals, especially Fernando Pessoa and Mario Sá-Carneiro, and wonderfully expressed in Pessoas's poem:
... Impressões do Crepúsculo ...
Ó sino da minha aldeia, / Dolente na tarde calma, / Cada tua badalada / Soa dentro da minh’alma.
E é tão lento o teu soar, / Tão como triste da vida, / Que já a primeira pancada / Tem um som de repetida. /
Por mais que me tanjas perto / Quando passo triste e errante, / És para mim como um sonho — / Soas-me sempre distante… /
A cada pancada tua, / Vibrante no céu aberto, / Sinto mais longe o passado, / Sinto a saudade mais perto.
(Putting the poem into English in a way that would properly convey the poetic sensitivity of the imagery of the poem is beyond my ability.
To avoid mangling Mr. Pessoa's work, I have refrained from translating it.)
... Impressões do Crepúsculo ...
Ó sino da minha aldeia, / Dolente na tarde calma, / Cada tua badalada / Soa dentro da minh’alma.
E é tão lento o teu soar, / Tão como triste da vida, / Que já a primeira pancada / Tem um som de repetida. /
Por mais que me tanjas perto / Quando passo triste e errante, / És para mim como um sonho — / Soas-me sempre distante… /
A cada pancada tua, / Vibrante no céu aberto, / Sinto mais longe o passado, / Sinto a saudade mais perto.
(Putting the poem into English in a way that would properly convey the poetic sensitivity of the imagery of the poem is beyond my ability.
To avoid mangling Mr. Pessoa's work, I have refrained from translating it.)
OU Center for Studies in Democracy and Culture
The University of Oklahoma Tulsa
4502 East 41st Street, Tulsa, Oklahoma 74135
E-mail: randle@ou.edu
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