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Kunst og arkitektur

IMAGE Issue 99

Now one of the leading literary journals published in English, IMAGE is read all over the world—and forms the nexus of a warm and active community. The publication seeks out and brings to its readers work of high artistic quality that engages with the historic faith traditions on a profound level, without easy answers or false uplift, and with a serious respect for beauty and truth.

United States
Image Journal
Les mer
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1 År

I denne utgaven

8 min.
in praise of boredom

IN HIS BOOK The World Beyond Your Head, Matthew Crawford talks about what he calls “ecologies of attention”—the social infrastructure that shapes and channels the way we attend to the world. In an earlier age, quiet spaces cultivated the sort of attention that freed you up to read War and Peace. In the frantic ecology that is now our default, you can’t pump gas or ride an elevator without some corporation trying to steal your attention. We need the arts to imagine the world otherwise. But such an invasion of the imagination, such an invitation to another world, has to overcome its competitors. This has always been the case, of course. The long human grind of mere survival, still a daily reality in too many places, has always threatened to consume…

25 min.

SOPHIE WAS GETTING MARRIED with flowers in her hair. She had planned for this, and here it was: Carnations. Perfect. Yael was the maid of honor, the best friend. Sophie’s father called Yael “my daughter” so many times the photographer got confused, and everyone laughed. Not the daughter! Not the sister! No. But just beautiful, just marvelous, her turn was next; why shouldn’t it be? Yael didn’t bring her boyfriend to the wedding because he didn’t know how to talk to people. She called him her boyfriend because he called her his girlfriend, but he wasn’t really, just some guy. Younger than she was. It was fine when people were his age, in their twenties, and unformed, not really people themselves. But when they were Yael’s age it was another thing.…

1 min.

The blue wind in Greece has been busy all night.Unable to sleep from its breathing, I sat through black hours on the terrace, watching the wind’sshadow and dance through moving objects— the sway of dark branches and the vacant bodiesof left-out clothing billowed on an unseen line. At dawn, the wind turned pale and finallywhite all morning, dervish over the cliff face, Mediterranean air bleaching the stonesin their left-alone, upturned eternity. The extent of my days became this:hours of Aeolian wind and atmosphere to breathe in, their permutations of color and transparency.What is longed for, in our time now, but escape? Imagine a century in which we have come to craveloneliness. We are still looking inward, to find a livable space. How emptiness has now become a positive.We need sparseness when our daily lives are too full, pining to…

1 min.
after the anastasis

who’s to say here whatis not when the hand firmlygrips the bird-light wrist the face facing Eve—her son’s as much asMary’sfurrowed long and lined on her left Adam’scloak billows back in the blastof blue air He brings the deep blue behindHim an almond of truth thatis, heaven that is how we grasp afterholiness when gold leaf istoo dull we go dark witnesses crowd eachother’s ears and each gesturesand each gesture sends your glance heavenwardyou stand just beyond the firstparents just this side of death’s doors waitingfor the pull to light waitingto leave the late night…

16 min.
a hermeneutic of humility

JONATHAN ANDERSON THINKS ABOUT his paintings in construction terms: to him, they are buildings. They regularly depict architectural structures—façades, doorways, hallways, stairways, chapels, homes, and so on—structures in which people live, move, and interact. But his paintings are not only images of built structures; they also are themselves built structures, material constructions that create space for the kinds of human dwelling associated with slower, reflective vision. As Anderson points out: The enduringly strange and wonderful thing about images is that theyoffer this space on flat surfaces. A painted image opens out onto things-in-the-world other than itself, while always remaining its own distinctthing-in-the-world—a flat painted object in the same space as my body.The painting simultaneously offers access to something other than itselfand withholds it, and it is the materiality of the surface…

1 min.
litany for a table of immovable feasts

Stay for me still life, ceaselesstree, stay. Stay who staysthe real, you root of mind, youconstant mote. Pruned shoot, sealedboard, beam of sudden come backfor me, please. Wood you. Say. For me, lastpossible whole world, for wouldn’t-mestill possible to believe, for place stayput, for fruit in fool, for call against but,meal against fell, guest within the rulein will: you all me. You me me.Who promised me. Who likened me, madefetish me, and grieved me, but pleasureme? Hunger me. Over-stander me.Bored me, my act. Stay for me.Come back to flee the rest of me,to specter me and put an endto me, to negative me throughand through. For I consume too muchof me, poor me, for my feel-possible you.…