Manual De Pintura E Caligrafia Kindle Ù De Pintura E



10 thoughts on “Manual De Pintura E Caligrafia

  1. Vit Babenco Vit Babenco says:

    Manual of Painting and Calligraphy is a philosophical book and, as its title may hint at, it is a novel about epistemology.Cognition is the act of knowing this is the simplest definition, with which I must be satisfied, for it is essential that I should be able to simplify everything in order to proceed It was never exactly a question of knowing in the portraits I have painted.The main character is a portrait painter and he earns his fees by painting people not as they are but as they vainglor Manual of Painting and Calligraphy is a philosophical book and, as its title may hint at, it is a novel about epistemology.Cognition is the act of knowing this is the simplest definition, with which I must be satisfied, for it is essential that I should be able to simplify everything in order to proceed It was never exactly a question of knowing in the portraits I have painted.The main character is a portrait painter and he earns his fees by painting people not as they are but as they vaingloriously imagine themselves to be It amuses me to think that I am pursuing an extinct art, thanks to which, because of my fallibility, people believe they can capture a somewhat pleasing image of themselves, organized in terms of certainty, of an eternity which does not only begin when the portrait is finished but was there before, forever, like something that has always existed simply because it exists now, an eternity counted back to zero.One day the protagonist disliked his new client so much that he decided to paint secretly his second true to life portrait in client s absence.That is how it turned out The first picture was a complete failure and I could not give up If S eluded me, or I failed to capture him and he realized it, then the only solution would be a second portrait painted in his absence I tried this The sitter became the first portrait and the invisible one I was pursuing I could never be satisfied with a mere likeness, nor even with the psychological probing within the grasp of any apprentice, based on precepts as banal as those which give form to the most naturalistic and superficial of portraits The moment S entered my studio I realized I had to know everything if I wanted to dissect that self assurance, that impassiveness, that smug expression of being handsome and healthy, that insolence cultivated day by day so that it might strike where it hurt most.But the second portrait was also a failure so the painter settled on portraying his client in words and gradually the narration began to turn into his self portrait.Our civilization is the sum of knowledge and skills so contemplating paintings, reading books, practicing arts and writing is a part of gnoseology as well.I am back at my writing, but had broken off to place the chair on which I was sitting beside the saint Now I am on the floor with my legs crossed like the Egyptian scribe in the Louvre I raise my eyes and look at the saint, I lower them, look at the chair, two manmade objects, two reasons for living, and I ask myself which is theperfect, theapt for its purpose, theuseful And after much debate I withhold the prize from both the saint and the chair.In order to see things as they are and to find one s true self one must lose all conformity and hypocrisy


  2. jeremy jeremy says:

    if you can even find a copy let alone without spending hundreds of dollars , let thee hold on to it like the sacred relic it shall undoubtedly become it truly is a herald of all that was to follow all, of course, being a malevolently gross understatement i think there were only, like, six copies printed in english, and i own a third of them it is fun, however, to walk into a bookstore, in seeking said relic, and try to explain to confused bookseller that no, it s not an art book and th if you can even find a copy let alone without spending hundreds of dollars , let thee hold on to it like the sacred relic it shall undoubtedly become it truly is a herald of all that was to follow all, of course, being a malevolently gross understatement i think there were only, like, six copies printed in english, and i own a third of them it is fun, however, to walk into a bookstore, in seeking said relic, and try to explain to confused bookseller that no, it s not an art book and thus have to begin the unjustified and irrelevant explanation of why an author of fine literature would choose to entitle a book so


  3. Michael Michael says:

    190812 early work by the masterful saramago i have read this after all the others, as it has just been published in english, and can see what will become his major concerns and style this work seems odd at first he does use various punctuation marks, but mostly this made me mentally strip them away, see them as superfluous he is concerned here with the act of creating art, using painting portraiture to explore it there is an interesting frame, a self conscious conceit of being a painter try 190812 early work by the masterful saramago i have read this after all the others, as it has just been published in english, and can see what will become his major concerns and style this work seems odd at first he does use various punctuation marks, but mostly this made me mentally strip them away, see them as superfluous he is concerned here with the act of creating art, using painting portraiture to explore it there is an interesting frame, a self conscious conceit of being a painter trying out expressing himself in something of an art journal, though not one to publish so it helps if you know art history the extent to which art has unavoidable political repercussions, that art does not satisfy artist or client or eventually either mild satire of artistic friends who originally seem apolitical, but true values revealed with something of a combination of love leading to personal love


  4. Aya Nassar Aya Nassar says:

    Always a pleasure There are such moments in life one unexpectedly discovers that perfection exists, that it, too, is a tiny sphere traveling in time, empty, transparent, luminous, and which sometimes rarely comes in our direction and encircles us for a few brief moments before travelling on to other parts and other people I take back what I said earlier It certainly is a younger Saramago, it takes him me longer to infuse his character with warmth, but it comes There is some fascinatin Always a pleasure There are such moments in life one unexpectedly discovers that perfection exists, that it, too, is a tiny sphere traveling in time, empty, transparent, luminous, and which sometimes rarely comes in our direction and encircles us for a few brief moments before travelling on to other parts and other people I take back what I said earlier It certainly is a younger Saramago, it takes him me longer to infuse his character with warmth, but it comes There is some fascinating prose, though I miss the pages long long paragraphs Saramago gets generous with his character gradually, the same way the painter comes to himself through writing Someone said in one of the reviews here that he did t find the politics, I think he would have if he was attempting to write within the margins of interesting times He would I guess relate to all the painstaking struggle to put three words that do not seem as a betrayal


  5. Rajesh Naidu Rajesh Naidu says:

    It s one of those books that you realize is very tedious to read but unable to put away because the narrator is speaking directly to you in the most mundanely personal way that somehow is a reflection of reality in a general sense.I picked it because an artist friend of mine recommended it for its nuances And no I was not misled by the title of the book It s a sort of autobiographical account of a fictional artist who considers himself a hack The total narration alternates between directly a It s one of those books that you realize is very tedious to read but unable to put away because the narrator is speaking directly to you in the most mundanely personal way that somehow is a reflection of reality in a general sense.I picked it because an artist friend of mine recommended it for its nuances And no I was not misled by the title of the book It s a sort of autobiographical account of a fictional artist who considers himself a hack The total narration alternates between directly addressing the reader and making an entry in a diary And in that, there are several engaging moments and thoughts, but at the same time there are some difficult and trying rants.So, just like this review, which you felt compelled to read through but is all over the place, the book was compelling but just tries your patience


  6. Willy Blackmore Willy Blackmore says:

    This is a really wonderful book Saramago has an incredibly unique writing style and manages to very effectively weave betweenplot and narrative driven passages andphilosphical passages Often times books in this vein narrative and philosophically driven tend to have thecerebral parts feel outside of the narrative, but this isn t the case here And major idea being investigated, the relationship and similarities between art and writing which is explored in both plot and phil This is a really wonderful book Saramago has an incredibly unique writing style and manages to very effectively weave betweenplot and narrative driven passages andphilosphical passages Often times books in this vein narrative and philosophically driven tend to have thecerebral parts feel outside of the narrative, but this isn t the case here And major idea being investigated, the relationship and similarities between art and writing which is explored in both plot and philosophy is very intersting and throughly investigated It is slow moving at times, but still keeps you coming back for


  7. Karlo Mikhail Karlo Mikhail says:

    This first novel by Saramago is too dragging and digressive, as if he was still trying to find his voice But it does give a glimpse of Saramago s pet themes in later works of fiction.


  8. Kelly Kelly says:

    Oh my, is it even possible to summarize a Saramago book not necessarily, he packs a lot into one sentence let alone an entire book and if you ve ever read anything by Saramago, you will know what i mean , but I will try This story takes place in Portugal in the year 1974 H is a portrait painter recently commissioned by S, a business man of the nouveau riche of the Salazar era H is painting this portrait and simultaneously writing a journal entry to fill in on his musings which he feels Oh my, is it even possible to summarize a Saramago book not necessarily, he packs a lot into one sentence let alone an entire book and if you ve ever read anything by Saramago, you will know what i mean , but I will try This story takes place in Portugal in the year 1974 H is a portrait painter recently commissioned by S, a business man of the nouveau riche of the Salazar era H is painting this portrait and simultaneously writing a journal entry to fill in on his musings which he feels the portrait alone cannot evoke.As H takes us through his portrait painting musings he also walks us through the various events of his life starting with the commission of a Portraite from S, and culminating with the Portugues Revolution of April 1974 and the overthrow of Salazar s dictatorial regime H Saramago in effect parallels life with art, thus taking linear story telling to a higher level of sublime poetry.An excerpt from the front end of the bookMy clients appreciate me as a painter No one else The critics used to say during the brief period many years ago when they still discussed my work that I am at least fifty years behind the times which, strictly speaking, means that I am in that larval state between conception and birth a fragile and precarious human hypothesis, a bitter and ironic interrogation as to what awaits me Unborn I have sometimes paused to reflect on this situation which, transitory for most people, has become definitive in my case, and to my surprise I find it painful yet stimulating and agreeable, the blade of a knife one handles cautiously while the thrill of this challenge makes us press the living flesh of our fingers against the certainty of that cutting edge This is what I vaguely feel without either blade or living flesh when I start on a new picture The smooth white canvas waiting to be prepared, a birth certificate to be filled in, where I the clerk of a civil register without archives believe I can write in new dates and different relationships which might spare me once and for all, or at least for an hour, this incongruity of not being born I wet my brush and bring it close to the canvas, torn between the reassuring rules learned from the manual and my hesitation as to what I shall choose in order to be Then, certainly confused, firmly trapped in the condition of being who I am not being for so many years, I apply the first brushstroke and at that very moment I am incriminated in my own eyesAnd an excerpt from the back end of the bookWe became as one and as one we rolled over once , with me back on top of you, your hair glistening, my hands now spread on the floor as if I were supporting the world on my shoulders, or the heavens, and in the space between us tense looks, then blurred, the noise of blood ebbing and flowing in our veins and arteries, beating in our temples, surging beneath our skin as our bodies came together We are the sun The walls go round, the books and pictures, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Venus, tiny Pluto, the Earth And now here is the sea, not the great wide ocean, but the wave from the depths trapped between two coral reefs, rising up and up until it explodes in frothing spume The quiet murmuring of waters spilling over mosses The wave retreats into the mysterious recesses of submarine caves, and you whispered My love Around the sun, the planets resume their slow and solemn journey and here from afar we now see them at a standstill, oncethere are pictures and books, and instead of that deep sky there are walls Night has returned I lift you naked from the floor Resting on my shoulder, you tread the same ground as me Look, these are our feet, a mysterious inheritance, soles which leave imprints as they claim the little space we occupy in the world We are standing in the doorway Can you feel the invisible veil which has to be penetrated, the hymen of houses, torn and renewed Inside there is a room I cannot promise you the clear sky and drifting clouds of Magritte We are as wet as if we had just come out of the sea and entering a tiny cavern where you can feel the darkness on your face The faintest of light Just enough to see each other I lay you on the bed and you open your arms and hover over the white sheet I bend over you It is your body that is breathing, the mountain ledge and source Your eyes are open, forever open, wells of glistening honey And your hair is shining, a golden harvest I whisper My love and your hands travel down from the nape of my neck to the small of my back There is a fiery torch inside my body Once again your thighs spread like wings And you sigh I know you, I recognize where I am my mouth opens on your shoulder, my outstretched arms accompany yours until our fingers clasp with a superhuman strength Like two hearts our bellies throb You call out, my love The entire heavens are calling out above us, everything seems to be dying We have already unclasped our hands, they have lost and found each other on the nape of our neck, in our hair, and locked in embrace we now await approaching death You are trembling I am trembling we shake from head to foot and cling to each other on the brink of the fall It is inevitable The sea has just swept in, rolls us onto this white shore or sheet and explodes over us We call out, close to suffocation And I whisper My love You lie sleeping naked beneath the first light of dawn I see your bosom outlined against the light of that intangible veil covering the door I slowly rest my hand on your belly And sigh peacefullyManual de Pintura e Caligrifa was first published in 1976This translation into english was first published in 1994.R.I.P Jose Saramago 16 November 1922 18 June 2010


  9. Rise Rise says:

    The novel is narrated by H., a fifty year old painter commissioned by S for a portrait The first few pages unfold carefully, telling of H s difficulties in producing two simultaneous portraits of his client In order to get around to this problem, orlike to escape from it, H decided to produce another third portrait of S., but this time the image will be in words Through sudden impulse or instinct, H decided to turn into writing the calligraphy in the titleI shall go on pain The novel is narrated by H., a fifty year old painter commissioned by S for a portrait The first few pages unfold carefully, telling of H s difficulties in producing two simultaneous portraits of his client In order to get around to this problem, orlike to escape from it, H decided to produce another third portrait of S., but this time the image will be in words Through sudden impulse or instinct, H decided to turn into writing the calligraphy in the titleI shall go on painting the second picture but I know it will never be finished I have tried without success and there is no clearer proof of my failure and frustration than this sheet of paper on which I am starting to write Sooner or later I shall move from the first picture to the second and then turn to my writing, or I shall skip the intermediate stage or stop in the middle of a word to apply another brushstroke to the portrait commissioned by S or to that other portrait alongside it which S will never see When that day comes I shall know nothan I know today namely, that both pictures are worthless But I shall be able to decide whether I was right to allow myself to be tempted by a form of expression which is not mine, although this same temptation may mean in the end that the form of expression I have been using as carefully as if I were following the fixed rules of some manual was not mine either For the moment I prefer not to think about what I shall do if this writing comes to nothing, if, from now on, my white canvases and blank sheets of paper become a world orbiting thousands of light years away where I shall not be able to leave the slightest trace If, in a word, it were dishonest to pick up a brush or pen or if, oncein a word the first time I did not succeed , I must deny myself the right to communicate or express myself, because I shall have tried and failed and there will be no further opportunities. The opening paragraph of a Jos Saramago is unmistakable in its trademark tone The lulls and pauses in the phrasing are searching for a way forward The prose is laden with hesitations and qualifications, trying to overcome the clauses that skirt away from the general idea The ideas are spreading like ripples in the pond, emanating from the center of consciousness Above the surface hovers a unique voice, a singular mind, a ruthless thought process Below is raging calm, propagating through perfect control of rhythm The only comparison I can immediately think of is the artful opening of a Javier Mar as.I never expected this book to develop right off the bat a similar theme of another novel I finished last year, also from the Portuguese The Stream of Life by Clarice Lispector translated by Elizabeth Lowe and Earl Fitz is narrated by a female painter who writes of her innermost consciousness and feelings the way colors unravel from the strokes of her paint brush, the way consciousness streams forth from a fountain of imagination But where Lispector s prose issues forth quick as silver, Saramago s brush paints from a slow easel, building from primary colors as he established his plot As in Lispector s art book, plot is probably the least of Saramago s concern here Manual is, as one eventually suspects, a novel of ideas ideas about art, about the expressions and forms that art makes, and the relationships of these art forms Manual de Pintura e Caligrafia first came out in 1976, only Saramago s second published novel at that time The first novel, still untranslated, appeared almost thirty years earlier In between the two, he produced three collections of poetry he did not publish poetry since then and four collections of newspaper articles Among his earliest works in the original Portuguese, this novel is the first window to his works, not only because it remains to be the earliest with an English translation, but because it anticipates Saramago s mature themes, images, and preoccupations names, blindness, political engagement, religion, revolution, love story The English translation of Manual appeared in hardcover from Carcanet Press in 1994, and in paperback from the same publisher a year later I own both editions The translation has since gone out of print Last year The Collected Novels of Jos Saramago was released in e book format, as an exclusive compendium of Saramago s fiction twelve novels and one novella This collection is missing Manual of Painting and Calligraphy It s a great thing that it will be finally reissued next year


  10. Lori Lori says:

    from publisherRead 4 21 12 5 5 123 Stars Recommended to hard core Saramago fans Not recommended as an intro to this authorPgs 242Publisher Mariner Houghton Mifflin HarcourtLetter to an Author I Thought I Knew Better Jose You horn dog, you I didn t know you had it in you, man And here I thought, after having read you for so many years, that you were this compassionate, emotional, political, yet purposefully sexless author Well, your Manual of Painting and Calligraphy certainly showe from publisherRead 4 21 12 5 5 123 Stars Recommended to hard core Saramago fans Not recommended as an intro to this authorPgs 242Publisher Mariner Houghton Mifflin HarcourtLetter to an Author I Thought I Knew Better Jose You horn dog, you I didn t know you had it in you, man And here I thought, after having read you for so many years, that you were this compassionate, emotional, political, yet purposefully sexless author Well, your Manual of Painting and Calligraphy certainly showed me differently, didn t it I mean, ok, I m not completely blind to the fact that you liked sex, and had sex, but seeing it written out on a white page in all of its stark and egotistical glory was a bit jarring Almost like walking in on your parents doing the horizontal mambo You KNEW they did it, you just never wanted to PICTURE them doing it, and now here you are, standing in the doorway SEEING them do it, in total shock and feeling slightly sick to your stomach.To be honest, I think I prefer the older, wiser, sex as a form of power version of you over the first time novelist, I m a sexual being version of you As you matured as a writer, your take on sexuality matured as well I feel as though sex is at its most powerful when it s hiding beneath the surface of your stories and not displayed as an intimate part of the story.I wonder what your influences were here I mean, sure, painting and writing and the pains of trying to define your character as one or the other were the catalyst behind the story, since it appears your character who refuses to allow himself to be named is unable to carry the burden of being both a painter and a writer I am also certain that the sexuality of your character is bred from the school of thought that painters are hyper sexual creatures Perhaps that has something to do with the texture and slippy ness of the paints, the slathering of oils against canvas, the passion the artist exudes over the object of his attention, the fact that painting aligns itselfin the physical world vs writing which is incrediblycerebral I see this internal struggle in your character the definition of himself in relation to his choice of medium As a writer he focusesinternally he can express his demons smartly, exorcise themprecisely through the words that drip from the tip of his pen As a painter he emits an arrogance, a pettiness, and displays this pent up aggression at his inability to paint perfectly hence the two paintings of the same sitting at the start of the novel in aphysically degrading way It seems the painter in him isabout marking his territory and sexual conquests than the writer in him, which is about emotional connectivity And so there is this almost imperceptible shift that begins to take place within him as he moves from painter to writer to painter againDueling personalities MoPaC certainly delivers those.Your writing style managed to shock me as well The Saramago I ve loved all this time, the man who creates those uniquely beautiful run on sentences that deliberately distracts his readers with parallel trains of thought, that Saramago isn t here yet This Saramago, the Saramago of MoPaC, hasn t found his flow yet He s still feeling it out, experimenting with it I can see him in there, like the caterpillar that s about to emerge from its cocoon as a butterfly, flexing his wings and stretching against the paper thin boundaries that currently constrain him I can appreciate what I m reading, but it s missing that something special that finds its way into your writing later on You re still developing your you ness.I m writing to tell you to keep pushing, Jose Move out of the sexual predator phase quickly, it s not becoming of you It s not who you really are I ll be waiting over here don t rush on my account Perfection takes time, and you ll get there I promise.Love, your biggest fan


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Manual De Pintura E Caligrafia O Manual de Pintura e Caligrafia uma obra mpar no g nero da literatura autobiogr fica entre n s e oferece nos, no seu conjunto, um semental de ideias e uma carta de rumos da fic o de Jos Saramago at dataNele se fundem as escritas de uma complexa e rica tradi o liter ria e a experi ncia de um tempo vivido nos logros do quotidiano e das vicissitudes da hist ria, que ser a subst ncia da pr pria arte Lu s de Sousa RebeloCaligrafia da capa por J LIO POMAR [EPUB] ✼ The End (The 30-Day Collective Book 1) ✿ Ellen A. Easton – 9facts.co.uk no seu conjunto ➽ [Download] ✤ The Light Over London By Julia Kelly ➲ – 9facts.co.uk um semental de ideias e uma carta de rumos da fic o de Jos Saramago at dataNele se fundem as escritas de uma complexa e rica tradi o liter ria e a experi ncia de um tempo vivido nos logros do quotidiano e das vicissitudes da hist ria [Ebook] ➣ Cell By Robin Cook – 9facts.co.uk que ser a subst ncia da pr pria arte Lu s de Sousa RebeloCaligrafia da capa por J LIO POMAR