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Orhan Pamuk, The Memory

Pamuk is, by analogy, the "other" of Borges. Three themes are repeated so haunting and enigmatic: the mystery of the self and its ghosts, the memory of individuals and cities, the hidden meanings in the world. His work is of outstanding literary and philosophical richness. To read and reread.

Orlando Mejía Rivera *

Paper
Salmon. La Patria / Manizales

That strange work of the new Nobel laureate for literature, Orhan Pamuk Turkish. Knower of Western literature and the East has managed to construct a narrative style draws on writers as diverse as the Russian Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, the Argentine Borges, Italo Calvino Italian, American Faulkner, the Dublin Joyce, Flaubert and Proust French, English, Carroll, anonymous poets who wrote The Thousand and One Nights , the Persian mystic Ibn Arabi, Rumi, Mevdana, Kemal Turkish writers, Rasim, Kocu and Tampines. In addition, deep pictorial influence made him believe in his vocation as a painter teenager and is now reflected in a visual prose, where the master of the descriptions of landscapes, people and architecture of his native Istanbul has made me remember the best pages of Proust and Walter Benjamin.

The old traditions of Sufi dervishes speak, among other things, the hidden symmetries of the universe and human beings. After reading the novels The black book, My Name is Red, Snow and Istanbul memoir, city and memories, I find that Pamuk is, by analogy, the "other" stories of Borges and Argentina have an equivalent in the voluminous Turkish novels. Three themes are repeated so haunting and enigmatic in these works of Pamuk: The mystery of the self and its ghosts, the memory of individuals and cities, the hidden meanings in the world. Pamuk's narrative is literature to sink into the mystery of existence human, to combat superficiality of an age that has tried to suppress all the secrets and ambiguities of individuals and societies.

Istanbul

Istanbul is recreated in its past, its present and its interior dimensions. In reading his memoirs better understand the aesthetic and ethical motivations of the writer. Your city is a tapestry of memories that merges with his biography. The child who imagined that another Pamuk lived another quarter of the city, is itself divided soul of the city which breathes nostalgia for the glorious past of the Ottoman Empire and feel angry and confused by a present of poverty and filth, where ghostly presences of Christian Constantinople and the Muslim Istanbul have failed to find the harmony of the triumphs and past defeats. Perhaps, therefore, Pamuk stresses the "bitterness of the ruins" that all citizens of Istanbul feel walking through its streets and neighborhoods. This bitterness has become an aesthetic category that is assumed to nationalist pride, but in the background shows the inability of his people to accept the demise of the imperial grandeur of the past and that feeling comes frailty and collective denial of what Turkey has been and can be.

However, the anxiety of the narrator becomes fascinated when he recalls the Bosphorus, which is the arm of the Dead Sea that surrounds the city. There Pamuk succeeds in translating fragments of poetic prose that surpass everything I've read, even above Magris Danube. This obsession with the waters of the Bosphorus Cell has his character, the chronicler of Istanbul from the Black Book, imagine with fear when the waters dry citizens contemplate the remains of civilizations that have shaped the spirit of the city and only follow the disasters and epidemics. That is, the Bosphorus is to Pamuk a talisman that has protected the city from the destructive forces of the Turks themselves. Thus he says in his memoirs: "Faced with defeat, oppression, poverty, bitterness and rotting from within the city, the Bosphorus is joined in the depths of my mind to feelings of attachment to life, zest for life and happiness. "

Finding himself

Galip, the protagonist of the Black Book is a young lawyer looking for his wife and cousin Ruya, who has left the house without saying why or with Who, though it appears that the suspect was with his brother, the famous chronicler Cell. Your search for the Istanbul-fifties led him to discover a city within a city symbolic exterior, that they dreamed of in the thirteenth century and its leader hurufíes Fazlallah of Esterabad. The articles in Cell are key to find them, while an initiatory path to Galip discovers that behind the visible world there is another world of "metaphysical geographies" where each side has its secret numbers and any object or circumstance is casual. That is, Pamuk has made a deep and entertaining, enter the coordinates of the modern novel aesthetic Western traditions esoteric Sufi dervishes of the legendary Persian, the West met in the early and mid-twentieth century for his presentation of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky "fragments of an unknown teaching." Galip penetrate the mystique of Istanbul hurufíes and education reveals an arcane, no one can be himself, because we are not one, but an "army of selves" living in a contradictory way our mind.

The historical and political

In My Name is Red, Pamuk takes us back to sixteenth-century Istanbul where the crime is committed by an illustrator, Master Donoso, and the novel begins with the voice of the dead, saying: "I am dead, I'm a corpse in the bottom of a well." Out who killed him is the core of the plot, but in reality the story is a foray into the evolution of portraiture in Western and Eastern painting, and the influence Islam had on the rejection of iconography. But it is also a love story taken from the Ottoman tradition.

In Snow, the versatile Orhan brings us to the border town of Kars in Turkey in the nineties. Here comes the poet Ka, a political exile in Germany for several years, to find out the suicides of young Muslim, who refused to remove their veil covering her face for entry to educational establishments. But Ka is also looking for the love of Ipek, a former college friend, and unexpectedly feels that: "The silence of the snow brings me closer to God." The snow cover the roads and there is a local coup to prevent the Muslim party reached the village mayor in the election. All this serves as a framework to build Pamuk various characters representing different political tendencies in his native Turkey, nationalist Republicans, the pro-Europeans, Muslims, atheists, the undecided, the Socialists, the Kurdish guerrillas, ethnic minorities.

Pamuk Here's expertise lies in not taking side with either, but lets talk about all ideological and religious voices that exist in their homeland. Lesson narrative polyphony and freethought literature makes a real niche intelligence, tolerance and freedom in a world that has become degraded to the justification of sectarianism and violence. The murder of the poet, several years after the fact, on a street in Frankfurt is an episode that shakes, when Pamuk himself has been threatened by extremists of various tendencies policies.

In short, the work of Orhan Pamuk is a literary and philosophical richness exceptional and I think it will become a true classic living. For many years he had found a voice as unique and brilliant narrative. I feel to be an author to read, reread and dream. Pamuk, like Funes the memoirist's story by Borges, seems not to forget anything that you have read, experienced and genetic heritage of Eastern and Western blood. But unlike Funes, think and hidden plot poetically joins the symmetries of the universe in his novels and characters.

* Escritor.

Premios Nobel de Literatura
en los últimos 20 nanos

2006 Orhan Pamuk Turquía

Gran Bretaña 2005 Harold Pinter Elfriede Jelinek

2004 Austria

Sudáfrica 2003 JM Coetzee 2002 Imre Kertész



Hungría 2001 Reino Unido VS Naipaul 2000 Gao Xingjian

China

Alemania 1999 Günter Grass 1998 José Saramago



Portugal 1997 Dario Fo Italia 1996 W.

Szymborska Polonia 1995 S.

Irlanda Heaney 1994 Kenzaburo Oe

Japón 1993

T. Morrisson U.S.

1992 D. St. Lucia
Walcott 1991 Nadine Gordimer South Africa


1990
Mexico Octavio Paz 1989 Camilo José Cela


1988 N. Spain Mahfouz Egypt 1987 J.

U.S. Brodskij 1986 W.

Soyinka Nigeria

Is A 7 Inch Dick Large?

Chronicle of a City "invisible"

A Victor I know him very recently. Just know that we share a passion for literature. Man in love with a woman named captivating, her writing is cultural, historical and intelligible. Enterprising entrepreneurs as they say, Victor Cartagena Menco Haeckerman is a tight friendships, no matter if at a distance and through emoticons. I read two of his works and it is worth noting that in this, its sensitivity reaches a humane literary descriptive and reasonable care that few journalists have. He is currently director of the cultural magazine Heading, a student of Linguistics and Literature at the University of Cartagena and a bachelor's degree, but many omit the title, the longest and most delicious in the life of any person of our generation. Camilo Argüello.

Tattoos on Cartagena

Chronicle of a City "invisible" Victor Menco

Haeckermann

Lords parents: if your child gets one of these tattooed to your home, do not cry to heaven. You guys: do not be surprised that her mom get a tattoo. Thus, tracking down people who are attracted by the art that consists of decorating the body (body art), is how I arrive, any night, a restaurant located on Third Avenue in Bocagrande. After reading a large sign that reads, Ink Addiction, I enter the place: in front of my eyes, a long, white room with paintings on the walls, two display cases filled with jewelry for the body and in the background, a group of people. In short, a room that anyone surprised by its cleanliness and harmony.

Someone approaches me and asks me if I want some service. I say that I have only come to watch. Again called my attention to the bottom group of people, that very likely came at the same mine plan. After I find my way past them to a lady and her tattoo artist who sets an Indian lotus, bright colors in his left arm (his first tattoo). As discussed the present perceive that the woman is the mother of the tattoo and that the letters are in the leaves of the flower are the initials of their children. Once the tattoo, she says never have imagined that it would participate a practice of this kind, but they gaze into the design changed his mind.

Then, a 12 year old boy asked the tattoo artist, Siegfried Cardona, would make a pierced eyebrow. It says you should consult with their parents. Mom and Dad are watching. She hesitates, but finally agrees, and the boy choose your jewelry. People keep coming and going. Beside me another young man, impatiently waiting to be served. "What you gonna do?" He asked. "A phoenix in the back," he responds to teach me a magazine. I wonder what their parents would say and I said no problem, what will he do with his own money. Advance

night, people come all the features: attractive women who hope to take Chinese letters on the lower back, a metalhead who wants a tattoo touched up and become outdated expansion, other than the best rock has never heard but which became a tattoo because he gave his wins, a boy who gives away his girlfriend a navel piercing, other than, for fear of being thrown out of his house UV tattoo ink (that you only see in clubs with neon lights), foreign residents, tourists ... rather not know so many people tagging.

"Cartagena What is this?", I wonder. And as a possible answer, I say the city changes especially the young. Today are not the hippies, as adults, cut their hair. Here the evidence, mostly, will perish. How tattoos survive amid a conservative society like ours exclusive? For now, most leads in places not so visible and clothing assistance. For example, still has not reached the first choice local tattooing the face and I doubt arises. I conclude by saying that this human group need not be poor in the city to be, paradoxically, invisible. I really just "spend time" on issues like this. They

11:00 pm I feel like asking Siegfried if you would like to make a presentation to the people arrived and found the empty walls, and, suddenly, in the audience, a group of people discovered their bodies tattooed with designs of his own. But do not ask, but for their designs. He replied that on your page I can see their work. Also, I said it has no preference for any particular style of tattoo, any style you like as long as done right.

getting late, I decide to leave before they close the place, but curiosity will not let me do it immediately. In addition, there are many people that easily go unnoticed. A man about 30 years old, works in a nightclub (I infer from her sweater) I come up and say-perhaps confusing me with the staff who runs locally, it has been because he wants to cover a scar on his arm. I stay silent. Only managed to recall aloud the title of a poem by John Junieles: "Tattoos are used to hide scars." The man smiles. Pleased, go where Siegfried and speaks as a patient to his doctor. I turn and I turn my eyes to the lady of the lotus flower in her eyes and watch the spring of these men displayed in the poem. Those men who, after a woman told them goodbye, an epitaph blue tattooed on his shoulder: "Love / But, mother. "

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BETWEEN WRITERS

"The glory or merit of some men is to write well, the other is not to write": Jean De La Bruyere

Maria Jimena Duzán

Bartleby syndrome (02 of January 2006)

Having survived the New Year, surely a final heroic act is even more pertinent to begin in 2006 recognizing that there is more daring feat in this modern world than being a writer. I am not referring to the "clerks", as the name of the implacable Roberto Bolaño in reference to the best writers Isabel Allende style sellers who have become his trade in a factory making stories as predictable as perishable, but real writers who do not compromise in its creation, which are not subject to the mercantilist argument that publishers needed today, most frantic literary awards in fiddle to the investments made in the fashion writers, who publish literary daring.

My tribute goes to those writers who do not belong to the great literary circuit, they have written their works without agents, which are not to win any of these business awards and yet still dazzle with their stories. I mean a Fernando Vallejo, rigorous in its mission a writer, a William Ospina, a poet who can not live the poetry, I venture, had to do the same as Roberto Bolaño, another poet who lost for lack of funds, and delved into the novel with the fortune of written a story like Ursúa, its 51 years, or as Bolaño himself, who never lost the northern literary or discouraged by the fact that his work was recognized by publishers, as it is after his untimely death. Again, life was a successful writer and Seix Barral refused to publish at the time his first novel (The Savage Detectives).

Not to mention Colombian writers, perhaps less known, such as Julio Paredes, Hugo Chaparro, Enrique Serrano, Gonzalo Mallarino, Antonio Ungar or Carolina Sanin silent disciples of another great writer, Catalan Enrique Vila-Matas, little known in these latitudes, but considered a cult author of a whole new generation of American writers like Cesar Aira, Juan Villoro, Rodrigo Fresán or our Héctor Abad.

Vila-Matas
always so bold, has dared to make a book to explain the syndrome of "Bartleby." A literary disease takes its name from a character who appears in a story by Herman Melville, a drab office who has never gone anywhere, that nobody knows whether coming or going, or whether or not relatives in this world only knows that when someone asks you to tell them about his life, always respond with this phrase, as emblematic of these creatures living in deep denial of the world: "I would prefer not to.

There are many writers who have stopped publishing after having written only one work or two, as with Rimbaud, who wrote his only play at 19 years, or as Juan Rulfo, who after Pedro Páramo and Llano engulfed in flames in silence. In the case of Rimbaud, Vila-Matas has his passion for writing ended when he ran his hallucinations. Rulfo And when asked why he had stopped writing, he always He blamed the death of his uncle Celerino, which he said was he was telling stories. Other writers who could not be rewritten, not so lucky. Many ended up in the asylum, if not the living dead.

Here in Colombia, a typical case of Bartleby's syndrome is relatively recent, is that of Antonio Caballero, who after writing a novel peak (no choice), he has not post any. And when Knight asked why one has written a novel, answers with this phrase, feature writers always passing through the maze of no: "Because the novel was actually an excuse to write a poem.

To all those writers heroes of this time my best wishes.

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Clerk and Borges portrayed by Bioy

The circle of the sky measured my glory, the libraries of East dispute my verses, the emirates seeking to fill me gold mouth, the angels know my last memory zéjel. My work tools are humiliation and anguish, I wish I had been born dead.
Abulcasim the Hadrami, JLB, The Maker (1960)

By Harold Alvarado Tenorio

died

JLB in Geneva on June 14, 1986. Twenty years later, this explosive in October, an editorial Argentina has released a fat volume of 1700 pages, simply titled Borges, whose author, Adolfo Bioy Casares (1914-1999), spent the last two years of his life in the tuning perhaps best picture, intimate, one of the greatest men who ever lived. A blind man from Buenos Aires, a city eternal as water and air.

The book covers the years between 1931 and 1989, but the first fifteen are abridged in ten pages. Years of meeting, the joint drafting your first job: a booklet on the curd, the foundation of their ephemeral magazines and publishers, the marriage of Bioy and Silvina Ocampo. A diary, written night after night, for forty years when Borges dined several times a week after the extended desktop, constantly writing notes to flaps of books and stories, scripts for films and hand lines, where Adolfito plays the role of James Boswell (1740-1795), to a beloved Doctor Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), exerted by Borges. An ABC book that will achieve the immortality of his master, then if the work of JLB is now frequented by thousands of millions of readers in all languages, who want to know the being of flesh and blood, must resort to this inconceivable testimony to the lives of a group of locals, so great and gossips, and beauty of the women who accompanied them and the dark times, which as everyone at all times, we has chosen by chance.

gossip is one who embodies the entire volume. Bioy never tires of noting that Borges's coming to dinner, leaving it for granted that almost ate his pocket. It's amazing certify Bioy untiring will not pass details of what Borges tells him, he says, he transmits phone calls on the vast circle of friends of the wealthy heir of the Martona, the largest processor Dairy of Buenos Aires in the middle of last century. A circle of friends who presided another rich heiress, her sister, Victoria Ocampo, one of the most famous Argentinian, not for its beauty but for their intelligence and their contributions to the literature of our language, director of the magazine and the editorial Southern Ortega y Gasset friend, Neruda, Lorca, Tagore, Camus, etc..

ABC gossip ago, its most naked exercise, we will poison hemlock in the reading of his memories of Borges. Neither friendship nor prudence and respect for women and equal prevent that with astonishing ingenuity and purpose, Bioy be recording the clever phrase or hurtful, trial bias, stubbornness against whom malquiere or hate, misogyny, racism, superiority complexes Argentine anti-Peronism, anticommunism, and his skepticism both as Borges, as they create a work made mutilation, modification, spoofing and lies whose purpose is the creation, in flesh and spirit, "is testimony that this book, a factory immortal words.

Because no one is spared in this intense scrutiny and plunder the world, where Borges and Bioy = Biorg, dissect passages, verses and rhymes examine a verse, challenging phrases, sounds celebrate, laugh roughness and the absence of an author's taste, or rewrite poems by the mere pleasure of exercising the profession they know best: writing.

Faust of Goethe, "Do not you think," says Borges, is the biggest bluff of literature? ". Shakespeare is "the divine amateur, always use the" mot unfair "Surrealism," unlike other invasive ideologies of literature, Catholicism and Communism, ignores the purpose of achieving readable works "poems are Pizarnik "absurd cacografías" Ezra Pound "miglior fabbro Elil consider, but no one reads," "Thomas Mann was an idiot" "He got the Nobel Prize Juan Ramón ... First Gabriela Mistral Jiménez, Juan Ramón now. They are better at inventing dynamite, which to give awards ... Gabriela Mistral has not written a poem pretty good ... The prizes do not help anyone to posterity ... "" What do you know of anything a brute like Hegel? "( Oliverio Turning) "his work is nothing" ... "It was a Peronist unclean", "Neruda is like because sometimes cheesy without remorse", "Lorca wrote poems horrible," "They told me that the musicians had not heard. Piazzolla not read the verses, "" Sabato also disappear without a trace after death "" If you compare the death of Socrates and of Christ there is no doubt that Socrates was the largest of the two. Socrates and Christ was a gentleman politician, seeking compassion
[...]".

And if the gossip is bone marrow is the detraction that binds our friendship and makes cronyism. If Borges is a knife of ice, is the perfidy Bioy same and both are toxic and deadly. Bioy between the lines, is making it clear that Borges has a dislike of the Puritan themes of love and feels uncomfortable with literary allusions to life sexual, often justifying that the erotic is less than epic. But the height of the traps is reached when referring women who are often interested in romantically. Haydee Lange, the beautiful redhead libertine who was one of his (JLB) passions of maturity, who left him for Oliver Girondo and with the complicity of Lorca made love one night on a terrace with Neruda, said that "the idiotic lives alcohol "Estela Canto, to whom he dedicated The Aleph and gave the manuscript after it sold at public auction and to write a book about his relationship with Borges, he considers" this pillar of righteousness "Silvina Bullrich is a" fat Florez's district Ravioli "Susana Soca, Uruguay is a patron" a bid "and another local color by rivalries and jealousies between the beautiful and very elegant for Bombal Susana, Carmen Gandara, sisters Grondona, Wally Zenner, Marta Mosquera, Esther Torres or Pipina Zemborain Tell and Elvira de Alvear, who in his last madness and poverty, Borg inevitable end of every year.

Perhaps the memorable character among the ladies of high society of Buenos Aires is Bibi Bullrich, portrayed by Bioy from the fables of Borges with his fearless confidence, daring neologisms, and unforeseen and unfortunate interventions corny. "Just as you'd like to meet poets and writers," says Borges, I am interested in knowing rich people ", when exiting a modern dance recital exclaims," \u200b\u200bI I prefer the other dances, with orchestra and with people you know who drew to a dance "in the middle of a meal says:" I'm so smart, so cool that sometimes I can understand, "" I do not like but I'm so smart I've discovered that should be okay with the Peronist ", etc.

deserves a chapter of Borges's first marriage, when at age 68, decides to marry, with the possible disappearance his mother, with an old sweetheart, widowed Elsa Astete Millán de Albarracín, a being from another world, less than Borges. "I put my fate in the hands of a stranger," said Borges. "No appears to he confident he usually does, Leonor Acevedo-Bioy. I stay quiet: I think I will care. No longer young. It was nice, now, and see ... But he does not see. For it remains the one before. "" Old, "notes Bioy-gray skin, in an attitude of servant love, admiration prostrate before the idol potentially wayward [...]; determined to surround the man and persuade domestic care of household charms, prone to take offense and blinded by jealousy, mistrust, potion, loving, optimistic, expressive and given to pouting. "And later the jealousy of Elsa with his friends, his travels, his tributes, while old and blind poet ever richer is buying dresses, fur coats, apartments, or second-hand shoes.

the end, of course, is the turn of Maria Kodama, who married by proxy Borges 45 days before dying. Bioy kept in the strictest caution about it, perhaps not to offend the memory of his friend and teacher. And he notes: "Borges told me to die does not matter one site than another. And what a luxury to have a love, heartbreak and even at eighty-something." However: "Mary is a woman of strange idiosyncrasies, accusing Borges for any reason, punished him with silence (remember that was blind), so jealous (it was furious with the devotion of fans). Next to her lived fearing angry. "

The June 14, 1986, a stranger, in a newsstand near La Biela, Borges tells him dead." I kept my way, Bioy scores. I went to one of Callao and Quintana, feeling they were my first steps in a world without Borges. "Before he died, he says, someone taped a singing tangos Borges:" They say in this recording Borges laughs with laughter as usual. "

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THE ADVICE OF BORGES

The Argentine master decides to give some advice to those still we are confused when writing a story and why not a novel. At conferences and media interviews, Borges reveals some of the steps he turned to his literary creation, undoubtedly, one of the most important in Latin America.

Adolfo Bioy Casares, in a special issue of French magazine L'Herne, that thirty years ago, Borges, Silvina Ocampo himself and six hands projected write a story set in France and whose hero had was a young writer from the provinces. The story was never written, but that sketch has become a thing of the Borges: an ironic list Sixteen tips on what a writer should never put on their books *

In literature should be avoided:

1. The performances too conformist works or celebrities. For example, describing the misogyny of Don Juan, etc..

2. The pairs of characters grossly dissimilar or contradictory, such as Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Sherlock Holmes and Watson.

3. The practice of characterizing the characters for their hobbies, as does, for example, Dickens.

4. In the development of plot, action bizarre games in time or space, as do Faulkner, Borges and Bioy Casares.

5. In the poems, situations or characters that the reader can identify.

6. The characters that can become myths.

7. The phrases, the scenes intentionally linked to a certain place or certain time, ie, the local environment.

8. The chaotic enumeration.

9. Metaphors in general and in particular the visual metaphors. More specifically still, the agricultural metaphors, naval or bank. Example absolutely inadvisable: Proust.

10. Anthropomorphism.

11. The making of novels whose plot is reminiscent of another book. For example, Joyce's Ulysses and Homer's Odyssey.

12. Writing books that seem menus, Albums, itineraries or dates.

13. Anything that can be illustrated. All you can suggest the idea of \u200b\u200bbeing turned into a movie.

14. In the critical essays, any historical or biographical reference. Always avoid references to the personality or the private lives of the authors studied. Above all, avoid psychoanalysis.

15. The domestic scenes in detective stories, the dramatic scenes in the philosophical dialogues. And finally:

16. Avoid vanity, modesty, pedophilia, the absence of pedophilia, suicide. FIN

http://www.ciudadseva.com/textos/teoria/opin/borges1.htm

* From

Visio Reception Seating Chart

16 "PHOTOGRAPHY IS THE ART OF THE FORGOTTEN" Atento

By Camilo Argüello Benítez

In the spacious room with high ceilings and white walls hung large portraits that he took his father, Leo Matiz, throughout his career as a photographer, cartoonist and painter, striking a solid carved wood mantel stored in their niches, as a very luxurious dishes, cameras and Matiz documents identified in his travels around the world. It is the living room in Bogota where Alejandra Matiz, keeps alive the work of his father.

is a large room with windows facing north of the city. A low table holds one end of the room and she had several books of photography published by his father and others in tribute to him. Several chairs placed around the room and two large sofas, easy on the eye form the Leo Matiz Gallery opened in December.

As a lady who wait while the viewer's gaze is lost in the magnitude of the nearly empty room. Log in and greets jubilant. He wore a simple red suit like wine, a green scapular around his neck crafted with several images of the Virgin. Your smile is generous and sudden, and generates small wrinkles at the corners of his eyelids.

And although not speak quickly it does with great clarity, animation and energy. Your prayers are emphasized strongly, with strong emphasis on highly expressive verbal, and sometimes, some really humorous.

With them was guilty of extravagance description that she disapproved of laughing as soon as the ideas came from his mouth.

Alejandra Matiz has made several exhibitions of photographs of his father in the Country, Berlin and now has decided to bring them to Colombia, where from now, will go to other countries.

Thinking works left by his father, Alejandra specialized in restoration work in Italy, where he lived for over 30 years and came to Colombia in October with the slogan to go ahead with the Foundation "Leo Matiz" he created along with it.

Its plans include social exposures are linked to the auction of some works Aracataca Leo took in 1940, before writing "One Hundred Years of Solitude." The money raised will be used to strengthen social projects for women in the country.

- How will social exposures Foundation next year?

The topic will be women. Highlight the value in society. So, this exhibition is based on photos taken by my father from a group of important Latin American women such as Maria Felix, Frida (Kahlo) and Tina Modotti. Although Tina was not in the region, they lived long time in Mexico and feel of the land said.

definitely need to help women in Colombia. The Foundation initiated a social project to help single mothers. Then, an exhibition of Latin American women in the streets with the "Braille", ie below the photo there will be a description of what is photography for the blind can imagine and know what is a photographic portrait. I thought about them, because each in its own way, are the sign of the revolutionary woman, responsible for change part of the story.

Another presentation will be based on Macondo seen by Leo Matiz. Macondo from 1940 to 1960 before being put Hundred Years of Solitude. That people pure, elemental, which had no influence on the Nobel.

This exhibition, like the other, will be taken to the streets but is not designed to help women, but that has Aracataca aqueduct. Surely not reach, but something will help. And then I'll let these photos, large and laminated, in this town that grew up with my dad, so they have a permanent exhibition, will bring tourists and their economy improves.

- When was the Leo Matiz Foundation?

legally 1998. Leo Matiz was the same one who decided to make a foundation for not to abandon his work because he saw the need in Colombia there was a photo center, which will show the world that art so sad for the country, or as I call it : the forgotten art. I think a newspaper can write without a photograph, but if a photographer is paid work, no credit is given or not given importance and it is believed that anyone can pick up a camera and take a picture, start to miss the reason for this trade.

- What are the projects of the Foundation?

For 2006 we plan to do six exhibitions every two months. Also launch the Leo Matiz photography prize, for that there will be a convocation and prize will be divided into several categories such as professionals, amateurs and those who are starting in this field. There will be seven judges, two of them international.

- What is the idea of \u200b\u200bthe award?

Award

The idea is to launch mid-year in Bogotá, but we will have offices in some universities in the Colombian Caribbean, because one of the objectives of the Foundation is to help artists, Latin American photographers and those who have not been recognized.

few years ago, I made an exhibition of Frida Kahlo in Mexico at the Museo Estudio Diego Rivera and we came with that system because the blind, touching the picture below and described, almost perfectly, the characteristics of image. For example, said that Frida had long eyebrows, described how she was dressed, said that Leo Matiz was chubby, I loved Mexico and was a good friend of Frida.

That in Colombia has not done, and would be a way of creating culture, because a person who begins to play art leaves bullets. If you are born in the midst of arms and bullets, and then you find another world, the art, I'm sure people would stop violence and to change society we have today.

- What's Next for 2006?

It is planned to create a documentation center in the north of the city to teach all those interested in learning photography, to build a good marquetry and take the hands of all those little things I learned in Italy when I studied art restoration, as the photos are gems and we start to see them as they are. The exhibition of Latin American women will go to Australia and hopes work on the Mexican Revolution are photos taken by my dad and now serve in 2007 marks 100 years of the Mexican Revolution and 100 years since the birth of Frida Kahlo.

- How was the life of his father, What he remembers?

My Dad suffered greatly. He lost an eye in an accident very strong in 1970 in San Victorino (center of Bogotá). That day, a guy, for stealing the camera, gave a fist with a thick ring, buried him in the eye. What he did not know who was beating one of the greatest photographers of the world. He had to work without an eye and the other almost did not see, so I dedicated myself to help after seeing that tragedy.

He was very visionary before the accident. 50 years ago saw in a dream that he lost an eye. In the dream, an angel came and took him to the eye. He said that he ran behind his eye, but the flying angel and I could not reach. But I felt a strange peace because he understood that his eye was going to heaven not by malice, but out of love.

That was terrible. My father said: 'If is important an eye for a horse, how about for a photographer. " He began to die, he went to his farm in Fusagasugá (Cundinamarca) and did not want to leave or return to photography. At that time I lived between Venezuela and Italy. I came to Colombia, I went to the farm and since I yelled out that if I stayed out in front of the house, day and night, until I received. After 12 hours, went down. I convinced him to return to the world of photography, took him to Bogotá, he started working at a magazine, made him a tribute at the Museum of Modern Art in Bogotá and was reborn again.

- How was this rebirth?

My father began to live again with what he called his third eye, it was not but feel the picture. At some point even told me that he worked with his third eye, which did not need to see to know where he had a photograph because the felt. And so was born his latest book called 'The men in the field', a book that makes a blind man almost six months before his death and in a state difficult as suffering cirrhosis of the liver in advanced degree, and still managed to publish it.

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ALEJANDRA

occasion of our writer of the month, trascribirá the text "Dialogue with the teacher," a self Hemigway interview on the craft of writing, taken from his collection journalism "special envoy" of editorial Planeta.

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Unattributed

I worry that life will be completely written to be seen from the screens of televisions and computers. I do not know how writers will be the future or rather if it exists in 100 years. I refer to men who seek to fight against misfortune of technology: these machines rather, I now see with the eyes of that Hidalgo, who fought in the era at all costs.

But back to top would be the best gift that God would give him at least to my generation that equals that of Foulkner, there is no history, suffers. Bitterly aware of this, I dive into the concept of the Czech writer Milan Kundera on the "eternal return: the heaviest burden," willing to bear the weight of a generation adrift in my being and supported in life, reason and words.

Waking the man who travels to the scaffold must be the intention of the writer, as Donne said. Wake of the road that leads to jail the scaffold where we all sleep from birth to grave.

writers fear for future generations. I fear for me, because I do not know if I'll be able to put aside that demon that always invites me to turn the screen so that the imagination is lost between a tunnel accident as I look in vain entertains century.

feel that the truth will live forever in the written word, thought, not spoken but lashes. I now rely on the parable of the speaker's Lonely Peruvian writer Mario Vargas Llosa. I am inclined to that blessed be a sign of the love of writing, decided to live with her until my last breath. Eat and live to endure forever in my Bicer, and develop with that warm and painful fervor that led many to the thought of a strict discipline that allowed immortality to his name and leave the world a possible vision of what can be inhuman humanity.

I dream of the " Catoblepas " that Flubert described in " The Temptation of St. Anthony, an imaginary animal, a creature that ate itself from the feet. A patient " Catoblepas" is the writer, a being who searches within himself the experience that will give life and opportunities, to answer the main question of his generation.

I'll be the literary representation of youth, playing Aldous as the man who makes her way through the forest while cutting furiously obstacles from his path. The same is deaf to the jeers loudly, who is not allowed to watch the morning that every day he asks the same question today What do you think your dreams?

For now assume this challenge on my own written word, I call on the life and fate to be left to carry on my shoulders. I call the " Catoblepas " and Lone to show what I write, why I came to this fast-paced world. Otherwise, invoke the death looking from Honduras, the light of the mountain where Hemingway was my teacher, that I will overcome it before I started my journey to eternity with the best grace that leaves us the job well done or at least tried. October 2005