Wednesday, June 6, 2012

What is the Glittering Retinue of Nerves?

It’s an online compendium of things intriguing us now or perhaps for many years, a “mood board” to inspire and ignite our creative ventures, a Look Book externalizing our emotional and aesthetic cravings, a confused and disjointed map to the inner landscapes of the mind. The titular phrase of this blog is also a line from Emily Dickinson.

So deep does it strike a personal chord with images of attendant thrills, both glorious and disturbing, we even crowned a student short film project with the haunting phrase (way back in the 90s).

But for now TGRON is really just a bulletin board decorated with obsessions and crushes, proving post-adolescence to be more a state of mind than age.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Painting by Moreau; Words appropriated by James Merrill

"The soul, which in infancy could not be told from the body, came with age to resemble a body one no longer had, whose transports went far beyond what passes, now, for sensation. All irony aside, the libertine was in 'search of his soul'; nightly he labored to regain those firelit lodgings . . . Likewise, upon the Earth's mature body we inflict a wealth of gross experience - drugs, drills, bombardments - with what effect? A stale frisson, a waste of resources all too analogous to our own. Natural calamities (tumor and apoplexy no less than flood and volcano) may at last be hailed as positive reassurances, perverse if you like, of life in the old girl yet."
- Germaine Nahman