131 巴黎文學散步 繆詠華(Miao Yung Hua) 2017-01-21
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DLs_z359cs&t=259s
梁永安先生談城市經濟學(The Economy of Cities By Jane Jacobs) 2017-01-21
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=de92vlwWqkg
本周，blogger失去dashboard頁，使用Google Plus代替。非常不方便。
11點到"光華商場：決策錯誤(因為沒做功課)，買了Pantium的"老電腦"。13點歸。
兩部電腦slides無法同步，很慘。
重設Notebook 約1.5小時。Chrome vs Edge 戰況激烈。
YYMOBILE PHONE
我現在有點"資訊延後"，晚一段時間才知曉某些時事。
因此，沒看到昨天謝志偉先生在德國的英姿；內閣的某新部長 (晚上讀晨報網站才知道)，幾周前與他夫婦談過，當時覺得大學內竟有這種幹才，很難得。
Ben Chen兄這兩天談的伍朝樞先生，我查自己的"胡適之先生的世界"網站，才知道:"伍朝樞與本blog 的張忠紱（1901-1977)伍光建等先生有關係，是其長官。"
~~~~~
每回的講堂節目，事前都會讀許多參考資料。
小英總統就職前，讀的是一本研究美國總統學的專書：總統職很孤單，常常會感嘆"政令無法出白宮之門"。
近日，D. Trump反其道而行；2周來好戲連連。我們有得橋的！
本月要紀念John Berger。談他的力作FELLOW PRISONERS (約2011年)之後，以為準備就緒，沒想到又讀到一篇傑作 An Apple Orchard (An Open Letter to Raymond Barre, Mayor of Lyon)--光這篇，就值得去買{另類出口}譯作 (台北麥田)，而我SLIDES已作成，還覺得只談了原篇交響曲般的文意中的一條線索而已！
現在的資訊發達，可以知道里昂市長(1996-2001) Raymond Barre是法國政壇奇人，他的計畫遷建約1848年建的監獄 (在隆河兩支流之間)，至今也沒落實 (囚犯2009年都遷走了，兩座監獄 (Berger的傑作內有之間的通道，監獄外的人與內部親友之"呼"話......)的建物仍在)。Berger請教森林專家，建議栽種Spartan蘋果品種 (20世紀加拿大的科學選種)，
果樹間相具距6米 (囚犯平均面積3米乘3米，遠比林文蔚 Ewam Lin 畫筆下的台灣鐵窗內朋友寬敞得多多.......)。
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prison_Saint-Paul
John Berger, Provocative Art Critic, Dies at 90
By RANDY KENNEDY JAN. 2, 2017
John Berger during a rehearsal of “Lying Down to Sleep’” at the Prado Museum in Madrid in 2010.CreditEmilio Naranjo/European Pressphoto Agency
John Berger, the British critic, novelist and screenwriter whose groundbreaking 1972 television series and book, “Ways of Seeing,” declared war on traditional ways of thinking about art and influenced a generation of artists and teachers, died on Monday at his home in the Paris suburb of Antony. He was 90.
Simon McBurney, the British actor and a friend of Mr. Berger’s, confirmed his death to The Associated Press.
As the host of “Ways of Seeing,” with his shaggy hair and tieless, loud-patterned shirt, Mr. Berger was a public intellectual who became a countercultural celebrity in 1970s Britain, where the BBC kept the four-part series in frequent rotation. The book became an art-school standard on both sides of the Atlantic.
He set the insurrectionary tone in the show’s opening sequence, taking a box cutter to a mock-up of Botticelli’s “Venus and Mars” and slicing out the portrait of Venus.John Berger / Ways of Seeing , Episode 1 (1972) Video by tw19751
Mr. Berger’s intention was to upend what he saw as centuries of elitist critical tradition that evaluated artworks mostly formally, ignoring their social and political context, and the series came to be seen as an assault on the historian Kenneth Clark’s lofty “Civilisation,” the landmark 1969 BBC series about the glories of Western art.ontinue reading the main story
Among many other subjects, Mr. Berger burrowed into the sexism underpinning the tradition of the nude; the place of high art in an image-saturated modern world; the relationship between art and advertising; and, of particular importance to him as a voice of the British New Left, the way traditional oil painting celebrated wealth and materialism.
“Oil painting did to appearances what capital did to social relations,” he wrote. “It reduced everything to the equality of objects. Everything became exchangeable because everything became a commodity.”
In academic circles the book became, as one art historian described it, the equivalent of Mao’s Little Red Book, and it went on to sell more than a million copies, never going out of print. Mr. Berger’s methods, influenced by the ideas of Walter Benjamin, tended to attract either ardent admiration or seething criticism, with little in between.
Susan Sontag once wrote that “in contemporary English letters he seems to me peerless.” Stephen Spender, on the other hand, called him “a foghorn in a fog” (a condemnation that Mr. Berger wryly spun into a compliment, asking what could be more useful in a fog). The critic Hilton Kramer complained that his brand of Marxism was not about real political problems but about provoking “social guilt among the comfortable, cultivated consumers of high culture.”
John Peter Berger was born in London on Nov. 5, 1926, and raised in only moderate comfort, with little high culture, in what he described as a working-class home.
His father, Stanley, a minor public official, and his mother, Miriam, managed to send him to private school, but he hated it and spent most of his time writing poetry and reading an anarchist weekly newspaper. He ran away from school at 16 and began studying art, continuing at Chelsea School of Art, now Chelsea College of Arts, after a stint in the Army.
He was a champion of realism during the rise of Abstract Expressionism, and he took on giants like Jackson Pollock, whom he criticized as a talented failure for being unable to “see or think beyond the decadence of the culture to which he belongs.”Mr. Berger (pronounced BER-jer) wanted to be a painter but found that he was much better at writing. For a decade he was an art critic for The New Statesman, where he made a name for himself by antagonizing nearly everyone in the art world in prose that was beautifully spare and precise but heavily moralizing and also frequently humorless.
But his love for favorite artists — among them Rembrandt, Velázquez, van Gogh and Frida Kahlo — was expressed with a fervor and depth of intelligence matched by few critics of his generation.
The year 1972 was Mr. Berger’s most prolific, with “Ways of Seeing” and the publication of his most critically acclaimed novel, “G.,” about the political awakening of a Lothario in pre-World War I Europe, which was awarded the Booker Prize. (Characteristically, Mr. Berger criticized the company that sponsored the prize, saying that it exploited Caribbean workers, and announced that he would split his winnings with the Black Panthers.)
In 1974, when his critical influence was probably at its height in Britain, he left London for Paris and then Geneva. He later decided to leave cities altogether, moving to a remote peasant community, Quincy, in the French Alps, where he lived with his wife, Beverly Bancroft, who died in 2013, and their son, Yves. (Besides his son, he is survived by another son, Jacob, and a daughter, Katya, from a previous marriage.)
In the Alps, where he learned to raise cattle, he wrote a trilogy of unconventional books called “Into Their Labors” — comminglings of short story, poetry and essay — examining the migration of peasants away from their traditions and into cities.
He also successfully dabbled in screenwriting, collaborating with the director Alain Tanner on three films, including the critically praised “Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000” (1976) about a group of radical idealists trying to stay true to their principles. His novel “From A to X” was longlisted for the Booker Prize in 2008, and in 2016, Mr. Berger was the subject of an anthology documentary, “The Seasons in Quincy: Four Portraits of John Berger,” directed in part by the actress Tilda Swinton, a friend.
Despite his many forays into hard-to-classify forms of writing, he returned again and again to the essay, the bedrock of his reputation, whose underlying theme was almost always the impossibility of disentangling the aesthetic from the moral: A 1992 piece described the annual task of mucking the pit beneath his outhouse, an odious job but one that offered many of the same lessons that great art had taught him.
“Nothing in the nature around us is evil,” he wrote. “This needs to be repeated since one of the human ways of talking oneself into inhuman acts is to cite the supposed cruelty of nature.”
“The just-hatched cuckoo, still blind and featherless, has a special hollow like a dimple on its back,” he continued, “so that it can hump out of the nest, one by one, its companion fledglings.”
John Berger, Provocative Art Critic, Dies at 90
By RANDY KENNEDY JAN. 2, 2017
John Berger during a rehearsal of “Lying Down to Sleep’” at the Prado Museum in Madrid in 2010.CreditEmilio Naranjo/European Pressphoto Agency
John Berger, the British critic, novelist and screenwriter whose groundbreaking 1972 television series and book, “Ways of Seeing,” declared war on traditional ways of thinking about art and influenced a generation of artists and teachers, died on Monday at his home in the Paris suburb of Antony. He was 90.
Simon McBurney, the British actor and a friend of Mr. Berger’s, confirmed his death to The Associated Press.
As the host of “Ways of Seeing,” with his shaggy hair and tieless, loud-patterned shirt, Mr. Berger was a public intellectual who became a countercultural celebrity in 1970s Britain, where the BBC kept the four-part series in frequent rotation. The book became an art-school standard on both sides of the Atlantic.
He set the insurrectionary tone in the show’s opening sequence, taking a box cutter to a mock-up of Botticelli’s “Venus and Mars” and slicing out the portrait of Venus.John Berger / Ways of Seeing , Episode 1 (1972) Video by tw19751
Mr. Berger’s intention was to upend what he saw as centuries of elitist critical tradition that evaluated artworks mostly formally, ignoring their social and political context, and the series came to be seen as an assault on the historian Kenneth Clark’s lofty “Civilisation,” the landmark 1969 BBC series about the glories of Western art.ontinue reading the main story
Among many other subjects, Mr. Berger burrowed into the sexism underpinning the tradition of the nude; the place of high art in an image-saturated modern world; the relationship between art and advertising; and, of particular importance to him as a voice of the British New Left, the way traditional oil painting celebrated wealth and materialism.
“Oil painting did to appearances what capital did to social relations,” he wrote. “It reduced everything to the equality of objects. Everything became exchangeable because everything became a commodity.”
In academic circles the book became, as one art historian described it, the equivalent of Mao’s Little Red Book, and it went on to sell more than a million copies, never going out of print. Mr. Berger’s methods, influenced by the ideas of Walter Benjamin, tended to attract either ardent admiration or seething criticism, with little in between.
Susan Sontag once wrote that “in contemporary English letters he seems to me peerless.” Stephen Spender, on the other hand, called him “a foghorn in a fog” (a condemnation that Mr. Berger wryly spun into a compliment, asking what could be more useful in a fog). The critic Hilton Kramer complained that his brand of Marxism was not about real political problems but about provoking “social guilt among the comfortable, cultivated consumers of high culture.”
John Peter Berger was born in London on Nov. 5, 1926, and raised in only moderate comfort, with little high culture, in what he described as a working-class home.
His father, Stanley, a minor public official, and his mother, Miriam, managed to send him to private school, but he hated it and spent most of his time writing poetry and reading an anarchist weekly newspaper. He ran away from school at 16 and began studying art, continuing at Chelsea School of Art, now Chelsea College of Arts, after a stint in the Army.
He was a champion of realism during the rise of Abstract Expressionism, and he took on giants like Jackson Pollock, whom he criticized as a talented failure for being unable to “see or think beyond the decadence of the culture to which he belongs.”Mr. Berger (pronounced BER-jer) wanted to be a painter but found that he was much better at writing. For a decade he was an art critic for The New Statesman, where he made a name for himself by antagonizing nearly everyone in the art world in prose that was beautifully spare and precise but heavily moralizing and also frequently humorless.
But his love for favorite artists — among them Rembrandt, Velázquez, van Gogh and Frida Kahlo — was expressed with a fervor and depth of intelligence matched by few critics of his generation.
The year 1972 was Mr. Berger’s most prolific, with “Ways of Seeing” and the publication of his most critically acclaimed novel, “G.,” about the political awakening of a Lothario in pre-World War I Europe, which was awarded the Booker Prize. (Characteristically, Mr. Berger criticized the company that sponsored the prize, saying that it exploited Caribbean workers, and announced that he would split his winnings with the Black Panthers.)
In 1974, when his critical influence was probably at its height in Britain, he left London for Paris and then Geneva. He later decided to leave cities altogether, moving to a remote peasant community, Quincy, in the French Alps, where he lived with his wife, Beverly Bancroft, who died in 2013, and their son, Yves. (Besides his son, he is survived by another son, Jacob, and a daughter, Katya, from a previous marriage.)
In the Alps, where he learned to raise cattle, he wrote a trilogy of unconventional books called “Into Their Labors” — comminglings of short story, poetry and essay — examining the migration of peasants away from their traditions and into cities.
He also successfully dabbled in screenwriting, collaborating with the director Alain Tanner on three films, including the critically praised “Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000” (1976) about a group of radical idealists trying to stay true to their principles. His novel “From A to X” was longlisted for the Booker Prize in 2008, and in 2016, Mr. Berger was the subject of an anthology documentary, “The Seasons in Quincy: Four Portraits of John Berger,” directed in part by the actress Tilda Swinton, a friend.
Despite his many forays into hard-to-classify forms of writing, he returned again and again to the essay, the bedrock of his reputation, whose underlying theme was almost always the impossibility of disentangling the aesthetic from the moral: A 1992 piece described the annual task of mucking the pit beneath his outhouse, an odious job but one that offered many of the same lessons that great art had taught him.
“Nothing in the nature around us is evil,” he wrote. “This needs to be repeated since one of the human ways of talking oneself into inhuman acts is to cite the supposed cruelty of nature.”
“The just-hatched cuckoo, still blind and featherless, has a special hollow like a dimple on its back,” he continued, “so that it can hump out of the nest, one by one, its companion fledglings.”
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