Огромная жизнь (не только и не столько продолжительность, а многое, многое и многое). Жаль, что ни одна ее книга не опубликована по-русски. Хотя, может быть, уже и не нужно.
"I had been struck, one day, by a fascinating array of doors-hall, kitchen, bathroom, studio-crowded together, soliciting my attention with their antic planes, light, shadows, imminent openings and shuttings. From there it was an easy leap to a dream of countless doors. Perhaps in a way it was a talisman for the things that were happening, an iteration of quiet event, line densities wrought in a crystal paperweight of time where nothing was expected to appear except the finished canvas and, later, a few snowflakes, for the season was Christmas, 1942"
я поэтому сразу вспомнил бесконечные комнаты Маркеса
Не читал, увы, "День рождения", хотя книга интересует давно. Теперь пришло время, хотя и пошло вот так наверстывать... Есть еще одна интересная женщина-сюрреалист, близкая Эрнсту (они были любовниками, пока он не женился на Доротее) - Леонора Каррингтон. Ее книжки, насколько понимаю, куда труднее раздобыть; не уверен, что переиздавались. Фронтискпис Эрнста интригует:
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причем в зависимость от настроения и образы видишь. )
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"I had been struck, one day, by a fascinating array of doors-hall, kitchen, bathroom, studio-crowded together, soliciting my attention with their antic planes, light, shadows, imminent openings and shuttings. From there it was an easy leap to a dream of countless doors. Perhaps in a way it was a talisman for the things that were happening, an iteration of quiet event, line densities wrought in a crystal paperweight of time where nothing was expected to appear except the finished canvas and, later, a few snowflakes, for the season was Christmas, 1942"
я поэтому сразу вспомнил бесконечные комнаты Маркеса
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