Looking for the Summer ...

Not for the summer as a season - you know how much I like winter. But for the sun and rays as change. Hope. Safety. Time for myself and for my soul. Maybe new beginnings. New roads towards my Ithaca. And maybe learning to trust again. Breathing, breaking down all those walls and windows (as Woolf said of someone else). And believing in something. 

“Consciousness of consciousness, literature about literature”

I like being a teacher. But I love with all my heart being in the world of letters ... Being a critic. A scholar. A writer. 

 “[…] consider literary criticism to be itself a form of literature. It is a form which takes as its theme not that experience of natural objects, other people, or supernatural realities about which the poet and novelist write, but those entities after they have been assimilated into the work of some author. Literary criticism is literature at a second degree.”

“[...] the literary critic, like the novelist or poet, is pursuing, however covertly or indirectly, his own spiritual adventure. He pursues it not by way of his own experience, but by the mediation of the experience of others. His work is far from disinterested or detached.”

(Miller, “The Geneva Critics”)

“What is important now is to recover our senses. We must learn to see more, to hear more, to feel more. Our task is not to find the maximum amount of content in a work of art, much less to squeeze more content out of the work than is already there. Our task is to cut back content so that we can see the thing at all. The aim of all commentary on art now should be to make works of art-and, by analogy, our own experience-more, rather than less, real to us. The function of criticism should be to show how it is what it is, even that it is what it is, rather than to show what it means.

In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art.”

(Susan Sontag, “Against Interpretation”)