It's about time that disaffected teenagers get the credit they've long deserved and never wanted. Sure, they can be kind of frustrating, with their hair-trigger eye-rolling reflex and grunted monosyllabic responses to any possible question, but they're also likely single-handedly keeping the French-poetry-collection and black-coffee industries alive. (And if there's a thriving black market for now-banned clove cigarettes a staple of depressed and pretentious teens back when I was one of them they're probably responsible for that, too.)

They are, by nature, solitary people, but they also have a way of finding one another. That's the case with the coterie of teens in Lars Iyer's delightful Nietzsche and the Burbs, a novel about young friends who pass the time in their sleepy town by drinking, playing music and wishing they were anywhere else. It's a hilarious book that also manages to be a genuinely moving look at the end of adolescence.

Chandra, Paula, Art and Merv are four young adults in their last year of secondary school in Wokingham, a suburban town west of London. It's a pleasant enough place to live, which drives the teens crazy: "The worst thing about Wokingham is that it smiles back at your despair. Wokingham hopes you'll have a nice day in your despair." They don't fit into any of their school's cliques not the popular "beasts" or the spoiled "trendies," so they've formed their own group. "All we have in common is that we have nothing in common with anyone else," Chandra explains.

When they're not in school, they spend their time at band practice (they play something Art calls "tantric metal"), drinking, philosophizing and regaling one another with made-up songs ("Supertwink" for Merv and "Fly Lesbian Seagull" for Paula). Mostly, though, they complain about life in the suburbs and the people who call it home: "They have no lightness. No life. No laughter or irony. They're heavy as suet."

The four friends are intrigued when a new student shows up to school, one who's not unlike them he's quiet, composed and has "NIHILISM" written across his notebook. They try to befriend him, infatuated with his uncurdled intellect: "His intelligence is not crabbed, like ours. It's not turned in on itself. It hasn't been squandered on music trivia. On the ranking of favourite albums and films. His intelligence hasn't been frittered away in insults. In banter. In ways of surviving the boredom."

They recruit the boy, whom they've nicknamed Nietzsche, to sing in their band, and are pleased with his performance: "Is Nietzsche a channel? Is Nietzsche an antenna? Is he casting a spell? Are these the words of some conjuration? Is this a suburban hex?" Meanwhile, they count down the days to the end of school, wallow in existential despair and giddily experiment with drugs.

Nietzsche and the Burbs isn't a plot-heavy novel; it's more of a character study told through a series of darkly funny conversations among the four friends (and, to a lesser extent, Nietzsche, who doesn't talk much). That's not to say it's boring at all Iyer's dialogue is so funny, and rings so true, that it's something of a challenge not to read the whole thing in a single sitting. In one scene, Paula explains to her friends that books make her miserable. "But you read a lot," Art responds. "I like being miserable," Paula says.

Disgruntled teenagers are famously hard to know, but Iyer depicts them accurately and with a real sensitivity, never mocking or condescending to them.

Disgruntled teenagers are famously hard to know, but Iyer depicts them accurately and with a real sensitivity, never mocking or condescending to them. He captures their adolescent bravado beautifully: "We infuriate them because they fear us. Because we think and they hate thought. Because we feel things, and they have declared war on passion, on daring, on life. ... Because we're half mad with nihilism, and the lack of meaning in their lives hasn't driven them insane."

Crucially, though, he also captures the moments when they let their guard down, when they forget to be disaffected for a few minutes and open themselves up to happiness. In one incredibly moving scene, the friends find themselves at their school's prom, which they fully expect to hate, but find themselves unable to resist the lure of pop music: "Even we're dancing to Abba ... Are we dancing ironically? Is this real dancing? Are we dancing or not dancing? Are we dancing as not dancing? ... We've dropped our sang froid ... We've dropped our mutual disdain ... We've dropped our normal distance."

The scene is Iyer at his best: observant, funny and compassionate. It's obvious that he loves his characters, and his enthusiasm for them is contagious it's impossible not to root for these hard-edged but sweet kids, even as they practically beg you to disdain them. Nietzsche and the Burbs is an anthem for young misfits and a hilarious, triumphant book about friendship, which Chandra beautifully describes thus: "It's being with people. It's a mind-meld. It's holding onto something. It's bearing something in common, when the word just wants you to scatter. It's keeping something safe."

Read more here:
Review: 'Nietzsche And The Burbs,' By Lars Iyer - NPR

First week

Monday

The new boys from private schoolthat, were sure of. His composure. His assurance. Thats what you pay for when you send your child to private school. Assurance... Composure... So whys he come to our school?thats whats got us floored. And only a couple of months from the exams. Come to think of it, whats he doing in Wokingham? Dreary suburbia. Did his parents lose their jobs? Did they split up? Was he expelled from private school? I think he has charisma, Art says. I think he knows he has charisma, Paula says. I think he doesnt care whether he has charisma, I say. Thats what gives him charisma. Whats charisma? Merv asks.

Into assembly. The new boy, already picked off by the sixth-form pariah. Oh, Godlook at Bombproof, Art says. All positive. We hope the new boy doesnt judge us all by Bombproof. Should we mount a rescue operation? But the new boy has already excused himself to Bombproof. Hes gone to the bathroom. A cunning ruse, we agree. The bathroom rse.

Assembly. The whole school, sitting in rows. The whole school community. The whole school family. We take our seats at the back of the hall. Art, coughing. Merv, coughing slightly louder. Me, coughing louder still. Paula, coughing extremely loudly. Titters. Paula, excusing herself loudest of all. The head of sixth form, glaring at us from beneath his domed forehead. Quiet, Upper Sixth! Youre supposed to be setting an example! The Lords Prayer. Our daily act of worship. The whole school, heads down, mumbling the words. The new boy, head unbowed, staring straight ahead.

Economics. The Old Mole, with graphs. The rise of stocks. The fall of government bonds. The continuing inflation of the housing bubble. The Old Mole, asking what the graphs might mean. Um, Bombproof says. Ah, Dingus says. Then, inspired: It means that things are going well! Then, no longer inspired: Doesnt it? Diamanda, twiddling her pen. Putzie, shrugging. Quinn, vacant. Calypso, glowing prettily, but also vacant. The Old Mole, impatient. Is she going to rant on again about overprivileged pseuds? About none us having ever seen real poverty? Global economic collapse, miss, Paula says. The Old Mole, looking up from her despair. Hyperinflation, then a new Weimar, possibly a new Hitler, miss, Art says. Stagflation, then another world war, to boost production, leading to mutually assured destruction, miss, I say. Financial despotism, following the fusion of corporate power and political power, miss, Paula says. Fascism, in other words. Resource wars, miss, Art says. Trade wars, miss. Real wars, miss... The Old Mole, smiling grimly. And what is to be done? Ums. Ahs. Separate investment banks from retail banks? Art says. Cryptocurrencies? Paula says. Disintermediation? I say. The new boy, hand raised. The Old Mole, nodding. The new boy: Nothing. The Old Mole, no longer nodding: Nothing?! The new boy: Let it all come down. An entire economic system? the Old Mole says. The new boy: Economy is the problem. The economy itself? the Old Mole says. The new boy: Economy devalues everything that matters. The Old Mole, looking baffled: You want to get rid of the economy? What would we have in its place? The new boy: Life. Without goods and services? the Old Mole says. How would you meet your basic needs? The new boy, leaning forward. My basic need is not to be dead. Its not to be carrying a corpse on my back. The Old Mole, not knowing what to do. Is the new boy a nutter? The new boy, sitting back in his chair. Silence. Wow! Art says, sotto voce. So the new boys an apocalypticist. Just like us.

Lunch. The sixth-form common room. The new boy, carrying a tray from the canteen. We call him over to sit with us. Bombproof, slumped against the opposite wall, disappointed. The end of the world, eh? Paula says. Exactly how is the world going to end? Art says. I think the worlds already ended, I say. This is the afterlife. Some fucking afterlife, Art says. I think this is the before life, Paula says. I think weve never actually lived. We contemplate the new boys tray. Chips. Coleslaw. Baked beans. Dont feel you have to eat the school dinners, Paula says. The canteens disgusting. And its full of lower-school pupils, Art says. Always avoid lower-school pupils. We spent years avoiding the lower-school pupils. And we were in the lower school, I say. The new boy excuses himself. He wants to return his tray. And he needs the bathroom.

Boredom. All the old common room faces. Bitch Tits... Schlong Boy... Hand Job and the gang... And The Sirens, of course, sitting together, exotics, transferred from private school at the beginning of the sixth form. The Sirens havent played their hand yet, have they? Art asks. Theyll never play their hand, I say. Theyre girls of mystery. Youd think theyre dykes, but theyre not, Paula says. Paula wants to have the edgy lez monopoly, Art says. Snippy snippy, Paula says. Well, theyre definitely not gay, I say. Chandra still has his thing for The Sirens, Merv says. Or for one of them, anyway. I do not! I say.

The common room. The lowest-common-denominator room, Paula says. The common soul-death room, I say. Surveying the landscape. The beaststhe last beasts, the last of their kind, their fellows having left the sixth form. These are the academic beasts, the beasts with some brain to go with their brawn, and their hangers-on. Theres Bombproof, the beasts chew-toy. Theres Calypso, as beautiful as her namesake, sitting on Dinguss knee. But the beasts are in decline, now might is no longer de rigueur. The beasts no longer rule the school, not since the trendies discovered irony... And there they are: the trendies. Gathered round the centre table. So knowing. So louche. So seen-it-all-before. The spoilt kids. The clique of cliques. Mean boys and mean girls, looking to fill everybody with fear... But even irony has its limits. Even mean kids meet their match. Theres a new ascendancythe meteoric rise of everyone else. The grey masses. The drudges. The duh-rudges. Too lazy for fear. Too distractible for irony... So many of them! Always snacking and checking their phones. Always at their troughs. Always chowing down. Consuming. And so cosy! So bedded-in, with their novelty slippers and their massive vats of tea. So satisfied, yet so insatiable. So inert, yet growing fatter by the day. You can basically watch them expand. Theyre like bamboo in the tropics, only not so vertical. The drudges will survive us alltheres no doubt of that. The drudges are here for the duration... Its a grim scene, I say. It makes me want to put out my eyes, Paula says. No wonder we dont have anyone to hang out with, Merv says. We have us to hang out with, Art says. All we have in common is that we have nothing in common with anyone else, I say. Or each other, Merv says. We have our band! Art says. The bands dead, Paula says.

P.E. The sports cupboard, stacked with things to throw. Choose your weapon! Will it be the discus? The javelin? Really, who would trust us with a javelin? We wouldnt trust us with a javelin! Art would only throw a javelin straight through Dinguss heart...

On the playing field, blinking in the sun. Well train for the long jump, we decide. For the triple jump! We head along the river path towards the sand pit. Willows. Cooling shade. The gentle lapping of the river. Sowhat did you do to end up here? Paula asks the new boy. Did you set something on fire? Ill bet you did, I say. Ill bet you set something on fire. You have that destroy-the-world look. You went somewhere posh, right? Art says. Your accents posh. The new boy: Trafalgar College. I lost my scholarship. I dont believe you, I say. I think you set something on fire. Trafalgars really something, Art says. Ive seen it. Very nice buildings. And very nice grounds. Huge grounds, fenced off from the proles. The new boy: All nonsense. High-Victorian fake. I dont know, Art says. I mean, look at this dump! This dumps not a fake, the new boy says. Its not selling Englishness off the shelf. Theyve franchised Trafalgar, you know. Theyve built an exact replica in China. We imagine it: grand rococo buildings, in the Chinese suburbs. A fancy-pants chapel in the shadow of Chinese high-rises. Shooting and army-cadetting, in the Chinese suburbs. Early morning mist, in the Chinese suburbs. Groundskeepers flattening turf, in the Chinese suburbs. Rugby fixtures and summer ftes, in the Chinese suburbs. The lacrosse team, jogging through the woods, in the Chinese suburbs.

We wish Loddon Valley could be bothered to be fake, we tell the new boy. Well-being class. Mr Merriweather, self-styled teen-whisperer, showing slides on the miracle of Bhutan. Mr Merriweather, explaining the amazing Bhutanese experiment. The admirable Bhutanese initiative. Slide: Ghalkey, the Bhutanese word for happiness. Mr Merriweather: Gha, in Bhutanese, means you like something. Key means peace. The harmony of the wholethats what the Bhutanese value. Its not about individual happiness. Its not about my happiness or your happiness. Its about the whole. (Makes an encompassing gesture.) The WHOLE. Slide: (Title) The Pillars of Happiness. (Bullet-points) Psychological well-being. Time use. Cultural diversity and resilience. Community vitality. Good governance. Slide: Gross Domestic Happiness. Mr Merriweather: The Bhutanese have actually taken it upon themselves to measure the gross domestic happiness of their population! Slide: (Title) Bhutanese Government Questionnaire. (Bullet-points) Do you trust your neighbours? Do you believe in karma? Do you know local folktales? Mr Merriweather: Do we trust our neighbours? Do we believe in anything? Are we happy? Slide: Smiling Bhutanese children. Slide: Smiling Bhutanese peasants, with their yaks. Slide: Smiling Bhutanese priests, at the temple. Slide: Smiling Mr Merriweather, enjoying traditional Bhutanese hospitality. Slide: Smiling Mr Merriweather, trekking in the mountains with his faithful Bhutanese guide. Slide: Smiling Mr Merriweather and smiling Mrs Merriweather (we presume), strolling through a Bhutanese market. Bhutans doomed, isnt it, sir? Paula says. I mean, as soon as you open the country to happiness-tourism, theres no more happiness, is there, sir? Its like what happens when we make contact with isolated tribes, sir, Art says. Half of them die of Western diseases. Then cancer, alcoholism and depression finish of the rest. Its the West, sir. Its what we do. Ill bet the young Bhutanese are all depressed, sir, I say. Ill bet theyre all suicidal, just like us, sir. And theres nothing that can be done, even with all the tourist money swilling round the country. Bhutans trying to resist westernisation, Mr Merriweather says. Bhutan can still teach us values. The new boy, NIHILISM in big letters across his notebook.

Home time. The bike sheds. Unlocking our bikes. Pigeons, flying after one another. That ones trying to fuck that one, Merv says. Hes, like, forcing himself on her. Maybe she likes it, I say. Shes flying away, Paula says. Or trying to. Look at the way hes strutting, Art says. Just like you, Chandra. How do you know its a he? Paula says. Could be a dyke. Could be all dyke pigeons around here. Natures disgusting, Art says. Animals are disgusting. I hate the way they always remind us of us. The way they just liveits indecent. All their instincts... We have instincts, Paula says. I refuse to have instincts, Art says. The need to breed, Arteverything fucks, I say. Is that what were like? Is that what love is? Art says. Maybe machine intelligence will be better, Merv says. I mean, machines dont fuck, do they? They can just build new machines. Roll on full automation, Art says.

Wheeling through the crowds. You know who the new boy looks like? Paula says. Ive been thinking about it all day. Nietzsche. Who? Merv asks. Friedrich Nietzschethe philosopher, Paula says. Dont tell me you havent heard of Nietzsche. Merv, investigating on his phone. Showing us a photo. The new boy doesnt look anything like him! You have to look beyond the moustache, Paula says. How? Merv says. All I can see is moustache.

Read the original:
Nietzsche and the Burbs - NPR

Recently, one already controversial 'swami' Nithyananda fled the country. His Ahmedabad ashram was a den of illegal activities and he usurped the land, kidnapped, raped and did all sorts of nefarious and abominable things. How could he spread his 'spiritual' empire despite getting implicated in a rape case in 2010 is an enigma. But the far greater conundrum is: Why do his scores of followers still believe that their guru is above reproach? It's like Caesar's wife must be above suspicion. The mushrooming ofbabasand gurus in recent times is a phenomenon that needs to be studied and analysed. And despite their misdeeds, esp. (s)exploits, their followers' blind faith in them entails a comprehensive psychological study of the whole shebang, calledgurudomorbabadom.

According to Genetic Biology and Theory of Evolution, humans are still evolving and evolving almost imperceptibly. To quote German iconoclast Friedrich Nietzsche, "Humans are still standing on the lowest rung to the ladder of evolution." And mind you, before criticising Indian or oriental gurus andbabasfor their shenanigans, one mustn't forget that the Western world also hasbabas, gurus and a spate of cults, albeit with ostensible differences. Otherwise, what's the Doomsday Cult with many shades and shrouds or innumerable Psychic Cults and their dubious gurus and clairvoyants? The popular televangelists like Pat Robertson, Faye Bakker, Jerry Falwell, among others are Christian gurus to their followers. Exiled preacher Zakir Naik of India is guru to the Islamic world. After all, human spirit is the same everywhere. Fools are everywhere. So are shrewd people, ever-ready to exploit the foolishness of the masses.

The West can't deny that Jabalpur's ordinary Mahesh Yogi returned to India carrying the tag of Maharshi given to him by the Beatles and western world. That he tried to molest Mia Farrow and Paul McCartney got disillusioned with him is inconsequential. Yet another controversial Jabalpurean Rajnish, who rechristened himself as Osho, and suave spiritualist Jiddu Krishnamurthy got more fame in the West than they did in the country of their birth. The point is: We're all equally credulous when it comes to believing in such high or low profile spiritual gurus as per their appearances and utterances. A garish and gaudy Gurmeet Ram-Rahim could also have a huge fan-following and he still has many followers who deify him or one fancy motorcycle-borne articulate Sadguru, promoted and projected by one of India's leading English dailies, is popular among 'refined' and English-speaking gentry for which spirituality is a new-age drug to be popularised through bespoke spiritual sessions.

In his book, The evolution of god, the origins of our beliefs, the writer Robert Wright has lucidly explained the whole enchilada of gurus,babasand people's unquestioning faith in them. Pascal Boyer already descanted upon human credulity and our faith inbabasin his book, Religion explained: The evolutionary origins of religious thought (Basic Books, 2001). Both the neuro-scientists opine that human brain (not mind; mind is intangible and it doesn't exist) is genetically programmed to believing in supernatural and esoteric mumbo-jumbo. This is the outcome of thousands of years of uncertain existence in pre-historic era. Robert Wright writes, "A frightened brain is always vulnerable and a vulnerable brain is susceptible to unseen phenomena and thinks them to be supernatural. This susceptibility percolated down to 'modern' humans with slowly evolving brains. The unfortunately fatal combination of susceptibility and vulnerability engendered all types of religions, cults, gods and also godmen." Somewhere, even a believing brain knows that the idea of a god is intangible, unrelatable and even dubious, but brain works in the manner of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's 'Willing Suspension of Disbelief' and finds some relatable alternatives for the very survival.

A godman is that earthly alternative for a celestial esoteric being that's perpetually beyond the reach of humans. In other words, he (guru) is what the doctor prescribed! We, therefore, invest all our energy, faith, reason and rationale in a godman or a god-woman in such an exhaustive manner that we're left with nothing. The very capacity to question gets weakened and it ebbs away eventually. Moreover, all these godmen and godwomen exhort their followers to follow them without a shred of doubt and misgiving. Until a few years ago, inscribed were the words at the entrance of Osho Commune in Pune: Please keep your mind out with your footwear! This unconditional submission acts as a stupor. Mind you, unquestioning submission is a sine qua non in the spiritual market all over the world. The brain gets doped and unable to discern. Sigmund Freud termed it 'Hypnotized Trance.' Got to say, a very apt term. Visit any commune or the so-calledsatsang(religious gathering), you get to see spellbound zombies in a state of trance. They call it ecstasy. But this euphoric ecstasy is simulated. Human brain thinks it to be real.

Harper and Moir of Kent University, England are of the view that a believing brain is invariably drawn to a guru,babaor godman. Because, a believing brain is a weak and timid brain. The submission to a godman is the submission to god, whom no one has seen. Neither will anyone ever see. The spiritually subservient nature of human brain causes us to tie our apron-strings. That's the reason, all gurus (good as well as bad) have been able to cast a spell on their followers and they (followers) too don't want to break that spell because that spell gives them a faux sense of security, serenity and stability. Furthermore, the pineal gland in the brain, which secrets melatonin, is linked to the God-Spot in the brain that gives us blissful feelings when we get to hear the recondite spiritual gibberish of all ' spiritual masters.' When they say, 'super-consciousness', 'transcendental reality', 'unalloyed unity' or 'universal synchronicity', we don't understand even a bit (neither do they), but these term give us a high like LSD's after-effect. The followers deliberately put their brains on the self-deception mode to be one with their gurus. After all,Mundus Vult Decipi(The world wants to be deceived) andHomo Vult Decipi; Decipiatur(Man wishes to be deceived; deceive him). Benjamin Franklin aptly said, "Who has deceived thee, as often as thyself?"

The writer is an advanced research scholar of Semitic languages, civilizations and cultures.

See the original post here:
The candid anatomy of belief in godmen - Free Press Journal

To become a maker is to make the world for others, not only the material world but the world of ideas that rules over the material world, the dreams we inhabit and dream together.

Established art museums around the world continue to draw large crowds. There is competition with one another to stage monumental exhibitions of works by classical masters and newer modern artists. Last month, within days after the Louvre in Paris announced the largest exhibit of Leonardo Di Vinci paintings and sketches ever assembled, over 260,000 advanced tickets were sold.

Recently, the Arab world has challenged Europe by becoming a new cultural center with The United Arab Emirates capital of Abu Dhabi investing in art museums. The Louvre Abu Dhabi opened in 2017, the Zayed National Museum is well underway, and plans for a branch of the Guggenheim have been announced.

If one is searching for a diverse cross-section of humanity, all participating in the same activity, an art museum is the ideal place to go. Whatever the nationality or language, or background, art naturally causes something to stir in the mind. The emotion may be curiosity, awe, or frustration at not being able to grasp the artists intent, but it awakens something in all of us.

Art has the ability to change perspectives, to look at life in different ways. Consider the different emotions one feels when viewing the enormous scale of Michelangelos Sistine Chapel; the minute details of Starry Night as envisioned by Van Gogh from his asylum room just before sunrise; the curious splatters created by Jason Pollock; or the political message embodied in Picassos epic mural Guernica. Each work so different, inspired by pure ideas and histories, born from a few supplies and a vision singular to the artist.

An art museum is a visual library with each painting telling a story. It is an impossible task to take in the entire collection, or even one floor. The average person spends 17 seconds looking at a work of art in a museum, intent on quantity over quality. Understanding each work of art requires the dedication to slow down, observe and interpret.

Experience has taught my wife and me to find a short term special exhibit that draws our attention and to read about the curators intent before seeing the paintings. We will often purchase the gift shop exhibition guide to help us along. Many of the exhibits we have attended in recent years are designed to focus on a certain period of an artists career or to show collaboration and inspiration among artists of the same period. All have left us energized and eager for more.

Over the years we have adopted one late Renaissance artist, Caravaggio, as our special favorite. We have scheduled a unique tour in Rome to view his work in small churches and always seek out his paintings wherever we travel. We have read about his boisterous lifestyle and can feel his spirit in his work, which influenced so many later artists.

So how can a family situated in Southwestern Pennsylvania learn to appreciate art? Most accessible are the local schools, art galleries and libraries that feature resident artists from time to time. Washington County has developed a thriving art colony over the years that is well represented in nearby venues.

A short drive will open a completely new level of exposure to viewing art. The Pittsburgh Frick Museum, The Carnegie Art Museum and the Andy Warhol Museum all offer excellent viewing experiences without being overwhelming. It is a good idea to sign up for the museum newsletters online to find out about ever-changing exhibits. Westmoreland County features a hidden jewel of an art museum, in Greensburg. It is truly a regional collection with a national presence.

For the more adventurous with a weekend to spend, New York City (The Met, MOMA, The Frick, among others); Philadelphia (The Barnes, The Museum of Art); and Washington, D.C. (The National Gallery, National Museum of Art, National Portrait Gallery) all offer world-class experiences. While any destination will be rewarded, our recent favorite is The Barnes, a new modern museum with outstanding lighting, which features one of the best impressionist collections to be found anywhere.

Lastly, on a cold winters night, when television reruns and cable news do not excite, there are excellent presentations of art from the worlds great museums on the internet. Staging a Michelangelo, Di Vinci, Van Gogh, or Picasso evening can be great fun, especially when accompanied by a biographical movie or National Geographic special about the painter.

Art appreciation takes some work. One must break away from what is habitual and ordinary in order to take in that which may not at first be clear. But the reward is a deep, mysterious and beautiful experience that one shares with all of humanity. According to Frederick Nietzsche: We have art in order not to die of the truth. In todays political climate, he may have been on to something.

Gary Stout is a Washington attorney.

See original here:
OP-ED: Enjoy art and rise above the mundane - Observer-Reporter

Leon Spilliaert Woman at the Shoreline 1910

In February 2020, the Royal Academy of Arts will present the first major exhibition of Belgian artist Lon Spilliaert (18811946) to be held in the UK. Bringing together around 80 works drawn from public and private collections across Belgium, France, Great Britain and the USA, the exhibition will offer a rare opportunity to discover this intriguing, singular artist who left an indelible mark on the twentieth-century art of Belgium.

Born in Ostend, the seaside resort on the North Sea coast patronised by the Belgian royal family, Spilliaert was a self-taught artist. Eschewing oil paint, he worked in combinations of Indian ink wash, Cont crayon, watercolour, gouache, pastel, chalk, pencil and pen on paper or cardboard, to create atmospheric works that are often imbued with mystery and melancholy. As a young man, plagued by insomnia and a chronic stomach condition, Spilliaert regularly walked along the deserted promenade and through the streets of Ostend in the dead of night, afterwards capturing the emptiness of the beach and town in a sequence of dynamic views defined by unusual perspectives and reflected light. Fuelled existential angst, Spilliaert also created a series of visionary self-portraits that reveal his preoccupation with his identity as an artist. These potent images of solitude align Spilliaert with Nordic artists such as Edvard Munch, Vilhelm Hammershi and Helene Schjerfbeck, who likewise wrestled with visual explorations of the self at the turn of the twentieth century.

A love of literature and philosophy, in particular the work of Edgar Allan Poe and Friedrich Nietzsche, shaped much of Spilliaerts early work, which has a brooding and at times romantic intensity to it. In 1902, Spilliaert started working for the Brussels publisher Edmond Deman, illustrating works by the playwright, poet and essayist Maurice Maeterlinck (who, in 1911, became the only ever Belgian recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature) and the poet Emile Verhaeren, with whom he formed a close friendship. Verhaeren would be responsible for introducing the artist to numerous art and literary figures, including the Austrian novelist Stefan Zweig and the Belgian playwright Fernand Crommelynck. Fleeing Ostend in 1917 to escape the German occupation, Spilliaert and his new wife Rachel Vergison set off for Geneva, where they planned to join a pacifist movement. But with little money and a new baby, they got no further than Brussels. Spilliaert would move between Ostend and Brussels for the rest of his life. Always fascinated by the natural world, his later work developed a softer focus, and he produced contemplative, tranquil works that conjure evening light or the shadows of beech trees in the Fort de Soignes in Brussels, where he walked regularly.

The exhibition will be organised in four thematic sections, presenting a journey through the lifetime of this remarkably insightful and unusual artist. Entitled Illumination, section one will focus on Spilliaerts engagement with literature, theatre and book illustration and introduce his poetic visions of nature, including Beech Trunks, 1945 (Private Collection). Section two, Crepuscule, will explore Spilliaerts expressions of emptiness and loneliness in the twilit world he inhabited. Still-lifes and interior scenes transmit a quiet glow in the depths of night, and, as in Young Woman on a Stool, 1909 (the Hearn Family Trust) solitary women wait for their husbands to return from sea at the end of the day. This section will also include examples of a commission to illustrate Belgique II, one of the first airships in Belgium. Section three, Littoral, examines Spilliaerts fascination with the liminal areas between land and sea, and, as seen in A Gust of Wind, 1904 (Mu.ZEE) and Dike at night. Reflected lights, 1908 (Muse dOrsay), his depictions of the streets, beach and promenade of Ostend. The final section, Reflections, brings together an important group of self-portraits.

The exhibition will be presented at the Royal Academy of Arts and then travel to the Muse dOrsay, Paris. It will be curated by Dr Anne Adriaens-Pannier (Honorary Curator, Muses royaux des BeauxArts de Belgique, Brussels and Artistic Director of Het Spilliaert Hus, Ostend) and Dr Adrian Locke (Senior Curator, Royal Academy of Arts, London). Exhibition organised by the Royal Academy of Arts, London in collaboration with the Muse dOrsay, Paris.

Royal Academy of Arts, London, 23rd February 25th May 2020 royalacademy.org.uk Muse dOrsay, Paris, 15th June 13th September 2020

Mark Westall is the Founder and Editor of FAD magazine, ' A curation of the worlds most interesting culture' [PLUS] Art of Conversation: A tri-annual 'no news paper'

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Lon Spilliaert at the Royal Academy of Arts - FAD magazine

What inspired the immaculately horrific art of Francis Bacon?

Flayed carcasses, howling creatures, disfigured heads and tortured bodies of grappling, male lovers. These emotionally charged images dominate the art of Francis Bacon, one of the worlds most important artists who continue to fascinate as seen in the long queues at the opening ofBacon: Books and Paintingat the Centre Pompidou in Paris. What makes this exhibit even more intriguing is the innovative exploration of the influence of literature in the paintings of the controversial British painter who led a tumultuous life with many violent episodes related to intense relationships and a number of vices that fueled his creations.

Born in Dublin in 1909 to a racehorse trainer father and a mother who was heiress to a steel and coal mine business, Bacon would describe his childhood as unhappy ininterviews with photographer Francis Giacobetti from late 1991 to weeks before his death in April 1992.My father didnt love me, thats for sure, he said as he related how the elder Bacon would be very abusive.With the artists emerging homosexuality, his father would even have him horsewhipped by the stable boys who would also be involved in his first sexual experiences. This led to a very complicated relationship with his father:It was very ambiguous because I was sexually attracted to him.At that time I didnt know how to explain my feelings.I only understood afterwards when I slept with his servants.

After getting caught wearing his mothers garments, he was finally expelled in 1926, surviving on a small allowance as he lived the life of a vagrant in London, Berlin and Paris. By the late 20s, settling in London, he dabbled in interior and furniture design until a mentor, Roy de Maistre, encouraged him to study oil painting. Picasso and the surrealists were strong influences in his early work which found success in 1933 when he exhibitedCrucifixion, a skeletal black and white composition that foreshadowed his later work, both in his obsession with Christs Passion as well as a predilection for morbid subjects showing contorted emotion and visceral physicality. This initial success, however, was followed by a series of rejections at galleries, prompting Bacon to destroy a majority of his works before 1943 and to bring him back to his former life of drifting, drinking and gambling. He returned to painting after the war, though, and producedThree Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion(1944) which he considered the true beginning of his work. This breakout pieceplaced him in the spotlight leading to his first solo exhibition in 1949.

By 1952, Bacon began one of his most significant and turbulent relationships when he met Peter Lacy, a dashing, well-bred but self-destructive ex-WWII fighter.Even at their most sedate encounters, Bacon would submit to being tied in bondage at Lacys house. This sadomasochistic coupling would be instrumental in producing some of the artists fine pieces, according to the art historian John Richardson who describes the aftermath of an incident when Lacy hurled Bacon through a glass window after a drinking spree:His face was so damaged that his right eye had to be sewn back into place. But Bacon loved Lacy even more. He would not forgive Lucian Freud for remonstrating with his lover.

But the most famous of Bacons lovers would have to be George Dyer whose suicide he immortalized in a painting in 1971, on the eve of the artists retrospective at the Grand Palais in Paris. Bacon would goad George into a state of psychic meltdown then in the early hours of the morning his favorite time to work he would exorcise his guilt and rage and remorse in images of Dyer aimed, as he said, at the nervous system, says Richardson. As the goading worsened, the imagery intensified and finally, after an unsuccessful suicide attempt in Greece, Dyer killed himself in Paris. This was a turning point in Bacons career, after which his paintings acquired a precision, clarity and intensity that made them immaculate, according to Didier Ottinger, the curator of the current Pompidou show.The exhibit concentrates on Bacons career from 1971 to 1992 which, for Ottinger, produced the artists best paintings. For more than 40 years, Bacon was trying to produce that elusive immaculate painting, inventing a technique that would reconcile the intensity and precision with which the technical means of photography and cinema had endowed the modern image, and the delicacy required to render the quivering, the very movement of life.

This period of Bacons maturity coincided with his relationship with John Edwards which was platonic and seemingly free of sadomasochistic overtones. He turned to books for inspiration, accumulating an enormous library in his London studio. A major highlight of the exhibit is the inclusion of six rooms that play readings from some of these books in relation to the 60 works of which 12 are triptychs. The authors evoke a common poetic universe rooted in tragedy: From the philosophy of Nietzsche to the tragedies of Aeschylus, from the poetry of T.S. Eliot to the novels of Conrad, the writings of Leiris and Bataille, Bacon was interested in authors who shared an implacably realist conception of the world, demonstrating a compatibility of contradictory principles, says Ottinger. Nietzsche, for example, analyzed the coalescence of Apollonian beauty with Dionysian excess while Bataille established the fusion of vital energy with destructive forces.

Bacons fondness for stark, tragic stories reflected how he viewed his own life, according to Michael Peppiatt, a friend and biographer of the artist:He looked for other people who also looked down into the darkness.Aeschylus was a particular favorite whose verse The reek of human blood smiles out at me evoked the most exciting images for him. Passages like this helped shape his art: I need to visualize things that lead me to other forms or subjects, details, images that influence my nervous system and transform the basic idea.Triptych Inspired by the Oresteia of Aeschylus(1981) includes the title of the book but just like his other pieces, it is not a linear narrative interpretation. His guilt over Dyers suicide manifests itself, though, in the shape of the Euminides, the Furies who hounded Orestes in the wake of his parricide.Study from the Human Body and Portrait (1988) has different layers that reflect EliotsThe Waste-Landwith its fragmented construction and its collage of languages and multiple tales, says Ottinger.

Ultimately, artists work with human material, not with colors and paintbrushes. Its his thoughts that enter the painting, said Bacon in the interview with Giacobetti. But I dont expect any certainty in life. I dont believe in anything, not in God, not in morality, not in social success. I just believe in the present moment if it has genius in the emotions that I experience when what I transmit on the canvas works. I am completely amoral and atheist and if I hadnt painted I would have been a thief or a criminal. My paintings are a lot less violent than me. Perhaps if my childhood had been happier, I would have painted bouquets of flowers.

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Bacon: Books and Painting is ongoing at the Centre Pompidou in Paris. Visitwww.centrepompidou.frfor details. Follow the authors on Instagram @rickytchitov; Twitter @RickyToledo23; Facebook - Ricky Toledo Chito Vijandre.

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What inspired the immaculately horrific art of Francis Bacon? - Philippine Star

The qualities that we look for in an emotionally intelligent mentor are self-awareness, self-regulation, motivation, empathy and social skills.Research on emotional intelligence and mentoring has found that the greater the EI of the mentor, the more trust the mentee has in them.

So what should you look for to find someone who can help you achieve your professional dreams? These traits are critical:

In talking to a potential mentor, you should ask about them not only about their successes but their failures, struggles, and what they learned from them. Mentors with a high degree of EI will openly share their feelings, fears, and doubts but also what they did to overcome them. Beware of someone who appears to have all the answers and pivots away from sharing their vulnerabilities.

A high degree of self-confidence and a healthy ego are necessary for success, but when it comes to mentoring, the mentors ego must take a back seat to the needs of the person being mentored. An emotionally intelligent mentor is secure in their own abilities and doesnt need their ego stroked. When talking to someone who is secure, they will steer away from taking credit themselves for success and instead heap praise upon others, their teams, or their partners. By listening to them, youll get the feeling that they receive satisfaction from seeing others succeed.

Quality mentorship means that there may be times when the relationship will be emotionally charged. The mentee may be making crucial decisions that will impact the rest of their lives and be looking to their mentor for guidance. Its during these times that the mentee needs someone who is able to manage their emotions and remain objective.

When looking for a mentor, suss out how they have handled emotionally charged situations in their past and what they have learned about themselves in the process. A positive sign is someone who relates a story of how they were able to control themselves during an emotionally charged situation.

Good mentors offer guidance, support, and different perspectives but ultimately recognize that it is up to their mentee to make their own decisions. After all, theyre not the ones who have to live with the consequences.

An emotionally intelligent mentor allows the mentee to lead the conversation and is perceptive to whats being said and not being said, says Foram Sheth, chief coaching officer and cofounder of life coaching companyAma La Vida.A good mentor will ask thought-provoking questions based on observation and active listening to help the mentee explore different possibilities, to uncover blindspots, and help the mentee move from problem to solution.

When considering a mentor, ask them what you should do in a situation. If they help you probe deeper and further, consider them as a potential candidate. If they tell you directly what you should do, move on and look for someone else.

This goes without saying, but since mentorship is often a free service, look for someone who genuinely enjoys helping others. The best mentors have a history of giving to their families, others and their community. These types of people have the ability to look beyond their own needs and feel a sense of responsibility to give back.

Highly emotionally intelligent mentors will be able to share how it makes them feel to help others. While they may not be incredibly wealthy or successful in all areas of life, good mentors have had success in overcoming barriers.

Be careful of anyone who is still going through a difficult situation, as they may be looking for someone to commiserate with and may not possess the emotional bandwidth to help you. You need someone who can offer you guidance because theyve experienced similar struggles, not someone who is stuck themselves.

Harvey Deutschendorf is an emotional intelligence expert, author and speaker. To take the EI Quiz go to theotherkindofsmart.com

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How to find an emotionally intelligent mentor - Fast Company

Weber State Athletics

OGDEN When Sara Hill married her husband, Jay, she thought she was marrying a soon to be surgeon. Little did she know how different her life would be.

I didnt marry a football coach, I married a soon to be doctor, Sara said with a smile. He went to the University of Utah for the med program, did all his pre-med and after working as an orderly and talking to people who were doctors, they convinced him that if you want to see your family, a doctor isnt for you.

Growing up, Jay didnt have much of an interest in being a coach. It wasnt until he was out of the NFL for a year that he decided it was time to go back to school. Hill knew the best way to possibly pay for it was to be a grad assistant and thats where his love for coaching started.

The recently named FCS regional Coach of the Year has learned from coaches like Ron McBride, Urban Meyer, and Kyle Whittingham. While Hill soaked up all the knowledge he could from those three, it was the knowledge that this is about the players as something he values the most.

Its all about the players and if you take care of them, then they usually go out there and perform well on game day, Hill said. You got to recruit good people, both as coaches and players. Discipline, toughness, thats what this game is all about. Theres all kinds of lessons along the way, but those are the things that you really hang your hat on.

The players hes recruited describe Hill as someone who is accountable, good at observing, and someone who lives his life the right way on and off the football field.

When he sees something going on with the team, he makes sure to correct it, when he sees something going on on the field, he makes sure to see it correct it and move on, senior linebacker Auston Tesch said. I think his ability to do that has spoken out since hes been here. There were a lot of things going wrong when he first got here, and just his ability to see that and know how to correct it, it speaks for itself.

Senior Jonah Williams added, the players are accountable and the coaches you can see that their accountable to coach Hill, too. No one gets away with anything thats unfair or undisciplined. Everyone is out to compete every day and there is a sense of accountability that I think floats around the program, and it forces everyone to be competitive. If youre playing better than the guy in front of you, youll play in this program, so Id just say accountability is the one trait that makes this program successful.

The success of the program that Hill has helped build is just what he envisioned for himself when he got the call to be the Wildcats next head football coach. But there is still more that he wants to do, and thats win a national championship.

You want to coach at the highest level of where youre at and thats what it would take, Hill said.

The Wildcats host Montana in the quarterfinals of the FCS Playoffs on Friday night at 8 p.m. at Stewart Stadium.

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Jay Hill wasn't supposed to be a football coach, now he's looking to guide Weber State to another playoff win - KSL.com

The hockey season is a grind. Youve heard it before, Ive typed it before, thats not exactly new information. But it bears repeating because it shapes so much of how and why hockey teams operate the way they do.

I felt it as a player, but far more as a part of a coaching staff. During my time as a video coach with Sheldon Keefe and the Toronto Marlies, my job involved taking care of the many preparation-based details for our staff, which meant constantly looking ahead at the schedule.

Whats tough is, you can never get too far ahead, which means you can never really relax. Yes, I could put together player and systems scout sheets for our Friday opponent early in the week, but that team almost certainly plays once or twice that week, and on Friday youll want to know what theyre doing now, not what they did a few games ago. Youll want to know their most recent lines, power play units, penalty kill forecheck, and all those...

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Bourne: Amid the busy prep life of a hockey coach, there is a rare and special moment of tranquility - The Athletic

Michael Wayne Bratton | 5 days ago

It may not have been easy to find a coach that truly wanted the Arkansas head coaching position but theres no doubt Hunter Yurachek landed a coach that desperately wanted to be the head Hog in Sam Pittman.

If his introductory press conference didnt prove that to you, check out the video below.

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Pittman is busy working the recruiting trail for the Razorbacks and has made recent stops to visit with in-state Arkansas commits Blayne Toll, Jashaud Stewart and Catrell Wallace and North Carolina quarterback commit Jacolby Criswell, the states No. 2 overall prospect in the 2020 recruiting cycle.

The Razorbacks recruiting class Pittman inherited was left in shambles following Chad Morris firing but if theres one man that can pick up the pieces of the class, its the new Arkansas coach.

Heres a window into the mind of Pittman, as he shared the following update from his second day on the job.

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Sam Pittman loving life as Arkansas head coach, provides update from the road following second day on the job - Saturday Down South