a divina desordem: f de verdade.
Fotograma de F for Fake, Orson Welles, França / Irão / RFA, 1972.

You know, it might be just this one anonymous glory of all things: this rich stone forest, this epic chant, this gaiety, this grand choiring shout of affirmation which we choose when all our cities are dust to stand intact, to mark where we have been, to testify to what we had it in us, to accomplish.

Our works in stone, in paint, in print are spared - some of them for a few decades, or a millennium or two - but everything must finally fall in war or wear away into the ultimate and universal ash. The triumphs and the frauds the treasures and the fakes.

A fact of life. We're going to die.

"Be of good heart", cry the dead artists out of the living past.

"Our songs will all be silenced. But what of it?

Go on singing. "

Maybe a man's name doesn't matter... that much.

Orson Welles, in F for Fake, França / Irão / RFA, 1972.


posted by Eduardo Brito at 12:07 da manhã | Permalink |


At 7:34 da tarde, Anonymous Anónimo

¿Conoces una película yugoeslava de 1980 sobre Nicolás Tesla, en la que el gran Orson Welles interpreta, creo, el papel de J.P. Morgan?