Phantom Thread

Phantom Thread, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, ( has won)  was nominated for the Academy Award for 2017 best film. Well earned. 

The story is set in mid 20th century London. 1954, to be exact. Reynold Woodcock, couturier, played by Daniel Day-Lewis, designs, tailors and sells dresses to high society females. They include royalties. The establishment, House of Woodcock, is owned and run by him and his sister Cyril, played by Lesley Manville. The seamstresses who sew the dresses work under grueling schedules.

Reynold is rich; lives in palatial home and drives Bristol 404 sedan. Anyone's envy. He suffers from mother complex and has uncompromising idiosyncrasies. He has rigid work ethic and will not be distracted by anything and anybody. He will not allow it! The first live-in model is trying to have a conversation with him at breakfast table when he is engrossed in his design work. A taboo! 

She has to go. Go she did.

He has now replaced the old model with a new,  quietly beautiful, inexperienced and unassuming waitress, Alma Elson, acted by Vicky Krieps. She has a perfect body for modeling. Alma wants to be happy and live a normal life.  She also knows he is a kind and respectful man yet a very difficult one. Despite, she falls in love. Eventually, so does he, with her. The story is about punishing relationship. 

Alma finds out Reynold's Achille's heel.

She has a plan, a toxic plan. 

Can toxins become antidotes?



I am highly disappointed Daniel Day-Lewis did not get his well deserved and earned Oscar. Damn!


charu
07302018

Picture above from 'Eats' site.

Art Institute of Chicago-(2)

We moved on to the next hall where the Islamic articrafts was on display--Ornaments, Temple Hangings, Rosewater Sprinkler, Embroidered Fabrics, Hand Mirror and Tiles. Most of the items were from Iran, Kazakhastan, Turkey and some from Mughal India too. Of all beautiful items the one which impressed me the most was the dress fabric embroidered with silk and cotton threads. The work is so fine and detailed that I wonder if women who did this work lost their eyesight in the process.

charu
07262018

Art Institue of Chicago

There is special happening at this venue. They have Asia and Southeast Asia sculptures from India, Cambodia and Thailand on display.

Most of the sculptures from India, of course are religious figurines. The most of ancient India statues on display are made of sandstones and they are from Rajasthan; one of the provinces of Indian subcontinent. But the majority of figures are of Buddha; they are from Thailand and Cambodia.

The beautiful Art Institute of Chicago is the perfect spot to get  'Cultured'. My Sunday was well spent.

Familiarity-পরিচয়

Here is a beautiful song written by great Indian poet, Rabindranath Tagore sung poignantly by Ashis Bhattacharya

I cannot translate it adequately. I can only interpret, only insufficiently.

Poet says he learnt sadness and happiness from those who made him feel so. He says he brightened his abode, heart, with the love of those who bestowed it upon him.  He draws to his heart those who become close; those who become distant he looks at them longingly. Often he wonders about what he does and does not know and believe. 

Then he looks at firmament, and understands what knowing and believing are.

He bows, indiscriminately, to all.

charu

07192018

যেকেহ মোরে দিয়েছ সুখ,

 দিয়েছ তাঁরি পরিচয়,

সবারেআমিনমি(২)

যেকেহ মোরে দিয়েছ দুখ,

  দিয়েছ তাঁরি পরিচয়,

সবারে আমি নমি 

যেকেহ মোরে দিয়েছ সুখ,

 দিয়েছ তাঁরি পরিচয়,

সবারে আমি নমি

যেকেহ মোরে বেসেছ ভালো 

জ্বেলেছ ঘরে তাহারি আলো(২) 

তাহারি মাজি সবারি আজি 

পেয়েছি আমি পরিচয় 

সবারে আমি নমি(২)

যেকেহ মোরে দিয়েছ সুখ,

 দিয়েছ তাঁরি পরিচয়,

সবারে আমি নমি(২)

যাকিছু কাছে এসেছে আছে এনেছে তারে  প্রানে

সবারে  আমি নমি 

যাকিছু দূরে গিয়েছে ছেড়ে টেনে ছেতারই পানে

সবারে  আমি নমি

জানিবা  আমি নাহিবা জানি, 

মানিবা আমিনাহি  বামানি 

নয়ন মেলে নিখিলে আমি পেয়েছি তারী পরিচয়  

যেকেহ মোরে দিয়েছ সুখ,

 দিয়েছ তাঁরি পরিচয়,

সবারে আমি নমি(২)

যেকেহ মোরে দিয়েছ দুখ ,

  দিয়েছ তাঁরি পরিচয়,

সবারে আমি নমি(২)

                     

                                                                                  -রবীন্দ্রনাথঠাকুর

Incoherent Coherent

IncoherentCoherent-IMG_6208.jpg

Incoherent Coherent

Artist prodigies live not long, it is said.

Mozart died young, as did Van Gogh.

Subversive Picasso broke old streak.

He lived thrice as long.

He served up human anatomy

in parts, helter-skelter

on a platter of canvass.

Incoherent seemed coherent.

He fed on marrow of beauties 

young enough to be daughters plus grand

whose curves he sliced, diced, cubed and cornered

at the altar of his mistress, Art.

Women killed themselves

for their god, cupid Picasso.

Nothing mattered to him.

Nothing, if it was not his art. 

Had he and I ever met, 

that genius he is to me,

I would gladly give my years

to afford him longevity;

not for love but for him

to create and create some more

that art of his, I so adore.

If I had, would I see his art again?!

charu

05072018

Medieval Hearth

Medieval Hearth-IMG_7368.jpg