La généalogie de lhomme: édition intégrale (Littérature ésotérique) (French Edition)

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Men are free when they are obeying some deep, inward voice of religious belief. Men are free when they belong to a living, organic, believing community, active in fulfilling some unfulfilled, perhaps unrealized purpose. Not when they are escaping to some wild west. The most unfree souls go west, and shout of freedom. Men are freest when they are most unconscious of freedom. The shout is a rattling of chains, always was. Whether or not the white American will experience his freedom unconsciously in the near future is unknown. The forces pushing anarcho-tyranny seem to make the white American consciously, and vigorously cling to any freedom he once thought sacred and his birthright.

But Lawrence is certainly right about one thing. The perennial flight west is not a long-term strategy for him. He will eventually have to settle, claim a space, a landscape, a community, and a mode of being that is his to defend, and not to cast away at the first sign of danger. Ernest Hemingway, fresh off his marriage to Hadley Richardson, his first wife, arrived in Paris in Paris was a playground for writers and artists, offering respite from the radical politics spreading across Europe. Sherwood Anderson supplied Hemingway with a letter of introduction to Ezra Pound.

They frolicked the streets of Paris as bohemians, joined by rambunctious and disillusioned painters, aesthetes, druggies, and drinkers. Pound was, through , exuberant, having fallen for Olga Rudge, his soon-to-be mistress, a young concert violinist with firm breasts, shapely curves, midnight hair, and long eyebrows and eyelashes. She exuded a kind of mystical sensuality unique among eccentric highbrow musicians; Pound found her irresistible.

Pound was known for his loyalty to friends.

Forum des résistants européens

Pound, for his part, secured for Hemingway a position as assistant editor of The Transatlantic Review. Their relationship matured into something symbiotic and mutually beneficial. In exchange, Hemingway taught Pound how to box. Pound, however, grew disillusioned with Paris, where his friends were gravitating toward socialism and communism. Paris, he decided, was not good for his waning health. Hemingway himself had been in and out of Paris, settling for a short time in Toronto.

In , accompanied by their wives, Pound and Hemingway undertook a walking tour of Italy. The fond memories of this rejuvenating getaway inspired Pound to return to Italy with his wife Dorothy Shakespear in They relocated, in , to a picturesque hotel in Rapallo, a beautiful sea town in the province of Genoa, on the bright blue Tigullio Gulf. Pound found the weather in Rapallo to be soothing and agreeable. It was Hemingway who had first recommended this scenic spot, having visited Sir Max Beerbohm there years before.

The friendship remained intact as Pound settled into Rapallo. So far we have Pound the major poet devoting, say, one fifth of his time to poetry. With the rest of his time he tries to advance the fortunes, both material and artistic, of his friends. He defends them when they are attacked, he gets them into magazines and out of jail. He loans them money.

He sells their pictures. He arranges concerts for them. He writes articles about them. He introduces them to wealthy women. He gets publishers to take their books. He sits up all night with them when they claim to be dying and he witnesses their wills. He advances them hospital expenses and persuades them from suicide. And in the end a few of them refrain from knifing him at the first opportunity. Hemingway had recently converted to Catholicism and was enjoying renewed fame after the publication of The Sun Also Rises. He divorced and remarried that year, offering Hadley a portion of the profit from The Sun Also Rises as part of their divorce.

Pound, meanwhile, was immersing himself in political theories that likely baffled Hemingway as much as they angered him. Shortly after the stock-market crash in and the onset of a worldwide economic crisis, Pound took to writing in Italian. He met Mussolini in , peddling strange monetary schemes to the fascist leader. In Pound and Hemingway exchanged letters that highlighted their diverging attitudes toward Mussolini, fascism, and government. Pound was now enamored with Il Duce; Hemingway was furious. Hemingway hated government, he told Pound, and preferred organized anarchism and masculine sport to statist ideology.

Possibly the last time Pound and Hemingway saw each other, they were having dinner with Joyce on a warm summer night in Paris. Pound allegedly bloviated about economics and the decline of art and European civilization, and Hemingway and Joyce feared that Pound had gone mad. The date and details of the dinner are a matter of debate, as is the veracity of any account of that evening. But one thing is certain: By the time Pound voiced support for Franco in the Spanish Civil War, putting him once again at odds with Hemingway, their once thriving friendship had deteriorated beyond repair.

The falling out was no secret, and other writers took sides. He is obviously crazy. I think you might prove he was crazy as far back as the latter Cantos. He deserves punishment and disgrace but what he really deserves most is ridicule. He should not be hanged and he should not be made a martyr of. He has a long history of generosity and unselfish aid to other artists and he is one of the greatest living poets. It is impossible to believe that anyone in his right mind could utter the vile, absolutely idiotic drivel he has broadcast.

His friends who knew him and who watched the warpeing [sic] and twisting and decay of his mind and his judgement [sic] should defend him and explain him on that basis. It will be a completely unpopular but an absolutely necessary thing to do. I have had no correspondence with him for ten years and the last time I saw him was in when Joyce asked me to come to make it easier haveing [sic] Ezra at his house. Ezra was moderately whacky then. The broadcasts are absolutely balmy. I wish we could talk the whole damned thing over. But you can count on me for anything an honest man should do.

He was admitted to St. MacLeish, expressing both love and admonition, dashed off these words in a missive to Pound: You saw nothing with your own eyes. I think your views of the history of our time are just about as wrong as views can be. Which is what is really happening now. A year later Hemingway provided a statement of support for Pound to be used in a court hearing regarding the dismissal of an indictment against Pound.

Hemingway, who was now living in Cuba, did little else to help Pound. More for practical reasons than personal conviction, Hemingway, who was himself targeted by the American government, refused to sign a petition of amnesty for Pound.

Hemingway never visited Pound at St. And when he won the Nobel Prize in , Hemingway announced that the year was good for releasing poets, a not-so-slight reference to his old friend. Hemingway awoke on the morning of July 2, , put a gauge, double-barreled shotgun to his head, and, alone in the foyer of his home, blew his brains out.

The older of the two, Pound, at 72, was free from St. He had returned to his beloved Italy to finish out his long and full life. Et cent autres encore…. En effet, Philip K. Poe voit l'horreur monter sur la terre Lovecraft reprendra cette vision. L'industrie rime avec maladie physique: Il convint que nous savions faire quelque chose dans ce genre, mais il me demanda comment nous nous y serions pris pour dresser les impostes sur les linteaux du plus petit palais de Carnac.

On ne fait pas mieux qu'au temps de Jules Verne la lune Autant que le comte pouvait se le rappeler, ce tyran se nommait: En tant que classe, elle se disciplina. On nous accuse d'inventer ce que nous redoutons. Et il ponctue par cette phrase superbe: London se fait a priori peu d'illusions sur le populo: Ross — A changing America. Kung is Confucius who presents an ideal social order based on ethical principles "good is right" rather than on political realism "might is right". You notice that present day society - particularly in dealings between nations - works on the basis of political realism with only the pretence of ethical principles.

The rich and the powerful have the best weapons. There's a good exposition of the kung-fu philiosophy of government here: Often the best thing to do is nothing. You can read more about Ezra Pound's cantos and radical ideas here: Vladimir Nabokov et sa femme Vera. Dans Lolita , ni femme ni culture. Ezra Pound and the Corporate State. In a modern world subject to the numerical vagaries of bad credit and unbalanced algorithms, the Fibonacci number offers a pattern of sanity and intrigue.

Know also as the Golden Spiral, this pattern appears as a perfect and dynamic model of order visible in creation, yet also demonstrates the intriguing attribute of having no beginning and no end. Whereas Aristotle spoke of the Golden Mean, the Golden Spiral describes arrangements of natural phenomena ranging from the seed pod arrangement of a pinecone to spiral galaxies such as the milky way. What Pound refers to is a subject and condition that has been poisoning the worlds cellular structure since homo sapien emerged, but has been successfully resisted until the past millennium brought forth an overpowering method of human economic interaction that is guaranteeing the eventual ecological collapse of the earth, with social collapse already a global visible phenomenon.

The poet offers us a Malapartian blend of fact and fiction, a tapestry weaving together historic truths with intelligent composition, creating the epic of the Cantos written over 50 years. His writings offer insights into economics, history, culture and the meaning of language. If the absence of design is the mark of finance-capitalism then one understands that there is no end goal in sight, no purpose to be fulfilled, just rampant profiteering. Discrimination, as Ian Dallas writes, forms the basis of sanity.

Laing defined madness as the sane response to an insane situation. The madness of contemporary leadership is evident in their fundamentalist belief held in the magical brilliance of paper-money and democracy, while increasingly vast slums of the urban poor lead to new warfighting doctrines being developed by the state. Civil unrest, poverty and the imposition of draconian laws by a self serving state mean that the masses find themselves in a situation where citizen and terrorist are both addressed via uniform methods owing to budget-deficit enforced standardization protocols.

In America, SWAT teams were once present only in the largest cities, now every mid sized city has one, routinely employing them in day to day activities such as the serving of warrants, with deadly consequences. With empty churches being converted to banks across Europe, and banks built like cathedrals, a paradise aspired to has become a laughed at chapter in history. This ensures the destruction of both society and the natural environment.

The ecosystem and human beings become objects whose worth is determined solely by the market. They are exploited until exhaustion or collapse occurs. A society that no longer recognizes that the natural world and life have a sacred dimension, an intrinsic value beyond monetary value, commits collective suicide. Such societies cannibalize themselves. The loss of the divine has not been without consequence.

His extraordinary book of the same name explores layer by layer the social outcomes of advanced finance-capitalism as reflected in the world greatest inverted totalitarian regime, the land of his birth. What he documents is a phase in social organization that every capitalist state will eventually pass through, en route to harsher forms of control and financial insecurity. The correlation of debt to totalitarianism seems to be in the 21st century a valid theorem when evaluating the social costs of capitalism.

The defend the present with reference to socialisms failure is to divert attention from the de facto extension of state control over life towards the utopian belief in social and political freedom enshrined in a humanist doctrine espousing liberty, de jure. When money is power, government becomes the formal face of governance, but is itself beholden to real power originating elsewhere.

Patriotism quickly vanishes when the reality of the corporate state is understood. The question of debt reaches into the very DNA of the modern state and can be seen as the cause and effect of much social ill as well as the inevitable driver of every capitalist state towards harsher forms of control.

Debt has been likened to a delayed contact with reality. As the corporate state oversees the wholesale sale of the nation and its prosperity, the resulting disintegration will necessitate the fusion of corporate monopoly with the security apparatus of the state, leading to the inverted totalitarianism of capitalist society. The media will explain that certain restrictions and draconian laws will be implemented in order to save our free societies.

To prepare us for our the protection of our freedoms the state will offer us democratic accountability: Cutbacks to pay off debt means that social welfare becomes a distant memory and decent jobs a privilege reserved for the faithful few. We will all pay the price as a collective, and we will maintain the respect for the law as is befitting a nation, and that those who do not endure patiently the remedy, will be processed by an efficient legal system which makes outlaws of those flaws in the system.

The privatized prison industry is one of the most worrying indicators of social malfunction. The constraint effects of debt and the jail cell were both issues experienced by the poet. The death-cell was the experience given to Pound by the incipient American corporate state.

His freedom denied, Pound found in his shackles the reality of the corporate state; those who trespass beyond the narrow confines of the economic motif fall outside the definitional framework of a money-civilization and are incarcerated; the dangerous masses through debt and exceptional individuals within concrete walls. Where the destruction of Amazonian rainforests are measured in the billions of dollars and where climate change proposals are ignored as too expensive.

Survival is an instinct which has been lost by economic man. This was not lost on Carl Schmitt who witnessed the political extinction of a German republic which could not protect itself against an adversary using constitutional means to destroy the constitution. With the death of politics traditionally understood, anacyclosis as defined by Polybius has been supplanted by market forces, with its own cyclical logic visible on the stock market.

The corporate state may be defined as a mixed constitution of plutocracy, oligarchy and democracy with a state security apparatus which serves the front of the most powerful interests within that state. While a mixed constitution might appear as the recommended means of fostering stability by delaying the painful stages of political cycles, the peculiar nature of financial capitalism fosters a regime which Polybius would have rejected outright as tyrannical in the extreme; one of his negative regimes favoring the few over the many; the corporate state is by design anti-democratic.

It is significant that the monied narrative struck at the popular heart of western civilization by examining in minute details the debt problems in modern Greece. That citizens might employ vigilante violence against non-Greeks to cure a problem caused by the diseased logic of fiat money means that modern education has successfully forced us to equate squares with triangles, allowing easy reception to that other equation of freedom equals democracy and free markets. According to Wolin, inverted totalitarianism is the inevitable political form of capitalism.

See also this old interview with Sheldon Wolin, and then buy his book. Featured image from https: Prior to the internet, or even the telephone, how fast could a written message travel from one end of Manhattan to another? In the early part of the last century, a system of pneumatic tubes enabled a piece of paper, sealed in a capsule, to travel from Wall Street to Harlem in a matter of seconds.

American popular culture has always been infused with a DIY ethic: Anyhow, so back in the s, folks became wild about printing and mailing around their own homemade newspapers or journals, and H. Lovecraft, who had entered a period of seclusion following his failure to matriculate and a nervous breakdown, jumped in as enthusiastically as any basement-dwelling World of Warcraft addict. Lovecraft seems to have come out swinging, maintaining a quarterly schedule for two years, then backing off to a yearly issue, finally skipping several years and putting out two more issues, numbered as if the missing volumes had somehow appeared virtually?

Lovecraft had a mission: Promoting his own vision of amatuerdom as a haven for literary excellence and a tool for humanistic education. In this capacity, he contrived to become the head of the Department of Public Criticism lovely title! But therein lies their charm. Consider this collection, to continue the pop culture metaphor, a kind of Lovecraft Unplugged. Isaacson is preparing to wreak summary verbal vengeance upon the crude barbarian who cannot appreciate the loathsome Walt Whitman, cannot lose his self-respect as a white man, and cannot endorse a treasonable propaganda designed to deliver these United States as easy victims to the first hostile power who cares to conquer them.

The strongest tie in the domain of mankind, and the only potential source of social unity, is that mystic essence compounded of race, language, and culture; a heritage descended from the remote past. The essential pugnacity and treachery of mankind is only too evident; and that very nation, even though pledged, would actually abolish means of warfare is absolutely unthinkable. Leaving their own countries in dissatisfaction, they assume the cloak of American citizenship; organise any finance conspiracies with American money; and finally, with an audacity almost ironical, call upon the United States for help when overtaken by justice!

Traditional hierarchy, but a nobility of achievement, not birth: In Germany, Austria, Spain and Italy, every son of a noble is a noble. The titled class is very large, as a rule very worthless, and possess numerous privileges subversive to the rights of so-called inferior men. Indeed, the honest yeoman is the true friend — and beneficiary — of a traditional society: It has been more than once remarked, that there is an intangible bond of kinship betwixt the highest and the humblest elements of the community. Whilst the bourgeois complacently busy themselves with their commonplace, respectable, and unimaginative careers of money-grabbing, the artist and the aristocrat join forces with the ploughman and the peasant in an involuntary mental wave of reaction against the monotony of materialism.

He who strives against the Hydra-monster Rum, strives most to conserve his fellow-men. Or his sadly jingoistic enthusiasm for WWI, despite taking a broader view in evolutionary terms: Englishmen and Germans are blood brothers, descended from the same stern Woden-worshipping ancestors, blessed with the same rugged virtues, and fired with the same noble ambitions. Amateur journalism got Lovecraft back in contact with human kind, or at least the more acceptable specimens in this sadly nonth century world, and for this we later readers can be thankful.

The Conservative desires to apologize for any errors in proofreading which may be found in this issue. Here, Arktos seems to have done a much better job of copyediting, for which they are to be lauded. In my experience, introductions, prefaces, forewords and the like are not infrequently presented without footnotes, [20] at least to material quoted from the main text to follow. So I was happy to see footnotes here, but then disappointed to find that they are wildly inaccurate, presumably due to changes in pagination during the editorial process.

Now really, if you are going to provide footnotes at all, how hard is it to make sure a dozen or so in the prefatory matter are accurate? That said, this is really a must have for the Lovecraftian, as well as any Counter-Currents reader who would like to sample the pleasures of real olde skool alt-Right blogging. Travel time from the General Post Office to Harlem was 20 minutes. A crosstown line connected the two parallel lines between the new General Post office on the West Side and Grand Central Terminal on the east, and took four minutes for mail to traverse.

Using the Brooklyn Bridge, a spur line also ran from Church Street, in lower Manhattan, to the general post office in Brooklyn now Cadman Plaza , taking four minutes. By the end of the book the humbled and drug-addled Haller will be forced by Mozart himself to listen to a broadcast of a Handel Concerto Grosso. See A History of the Borgias , Preface. The Life and Times of H. Hippocampus, ; Chapter 6: For example, his Social Darwinist defense of capitalism would eventually, under the pressure of personal penury and the Great Depression generally, mutate into a qualified, then enthusiastic, support of the New Deal; but with typical Lovecraftian perversity, this was not in spite of, but because, it seemed like the closest thing to Fascism.

See I Am Providence, op. Article printed from Counter-Currents Publishing: URLs in this post: The Complete Issues — Je peux en faire Ways Without a Precedent. One of the aims of the North American New Right is to promote a revival of the Right-wing artistic and literary subculture that gave us such 20th-century giants as D.

Marinetti, Knut Hamsun, W. Or perhaps it just came too soon.

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The literature of the past ten years has been conspicuous for its total lack of direction, purpose and power. It has opened no new roads of imagination, created no monumental characters, and contributed nothing whatever to the vitality of the written word. The fact that the decade in question has shown the highest ratio of adult literacy in British history makes this inertia an astounding feat.

So astounding, indeed, that the great majority of readers have turned their attention to the cinema, television and radio instead. Their reading talent has been commandeered by the more robust newspapers. The truants can hardly be blamed for seeking livelier entertainment, since most writers have reduced themselves to the rank of ordinary entertainers, and for the most part, have failed to be even this.

Writers see the shadow of the mass mortuary too clearly to provide good, knock-about entertainment. The same shadow prevents them from producing more enduring work by making nonsense of posterity. All writers must accept this shadow across their consciousness as an occupational hazard, and its surmounting divides them cleanly into the camps of optimism or pessimism, allowing no shades of neutrality between. The negative acceptance has the strongest following just now, and for this reason the bulk of serious novels today almost inevitably offer victims as their cast and senseless brutality as their business.

These works do not educate us a scrap, nor do they offer any great insights into the tumult of our time. The writers dwell instead on the horror of anything changing—man, mood or scene—and reveal that the precise value of all and everything is that it is here at present. The understanding is that Man is too frail and imperfect for violent change. It is a poor argument for literature, progress and health. Unless there is a radical change in this outlook literature will continue its drift into negativism.

The popular conception is that he should provide stories that are an escape from life. The slightest whiff of reality is regarded as an intrusion of the diabolical and an act of treachery. The ideal path amounts to improbable love yarns closing upon chaste kisses. If there is invariably an impoverished odour about these fabrications, the accolades of best-seller returns do not hint at it. This view is not taken by the more intelligent, who demand a measure of truth with their entertainment. This again is asking for too little.

Now unalloyed sex is a tedious business when it is repeated too often. But this is not borne out by the positive glut of literary prurience that has come our way over the past few years. As it shows no sign of stopping we must conclude either that the percentage of perverts is much higher than is imagined, or that there is nothing more pornographic than a half-truth.

But, whichever it is, the fact remains that when it is only a small measure of truth that is requested, the result merely mirrors appearance. It never delves to the cause behind appearance. It is better to offer no truth at all than make this kind of compromise. There are only a few who demand all the truth a writer possesses. Over the past twenty years, this demand was sufficient to encourage the development of Hermann Hesse and Thomas Mann, but few others of major creative stature. If the demand were extended to a larger and more perceptive audience it would doubtless encourage the emergence of even greater writers.

Certainly it would produce a literature capable of vigorously advancing our present half-hearted ideas of living to an unprecedented level. There is no likelihood of such an ideal audience coming into existence for the philanthropic purpose of encouraging a vigorous literature. This would be asking for a healthiness that does not exist among most intelligent people today. The same malady that prevents a vital literature from developing and becoming a regenerative force to our society, disposes of the idea of a sick audience transcending its condition and calling for chest expanders.

Contemporary literature, whether on the printed page or declaimed from the boards of the theatre, shows its bankruptcy by confining itself to merely reporting on social conditions. It makes no attempt at judging them. Literature that faithfully reflects a mindless society is a mindless literature. If it is to be anything larger, it must systematically contradict the great bulk of prevalent ideas, offer saner alternatives, and take on a more speculative character than it has today.

I am optimistic enough to think that immediately the results prove positive and exciting, the more conformist brands of literature will lose most of their following. But the failure of literature is only a small part of a much wider catastrophe. When I refer to a lack of health among the intelligent, I touch upon what threatens the whole of our civilization with imminent collapse. The truth is that Man, for all his scientific virtuosity, cannot defeat his own exhaustion. To do so means drawing upon unused strengths that once would have been described as religious. Unfortunately, Man has become a rational animal; he rejects any suggestion of religiosity as scrupulously as an honest beggar denounces respectability.

I say unfortunately, because it is mental and physical exhaustion that is the principal malady of our civilization. The very people who should be the leaders of our society are the most affected, so the disillusionment, despair and social revolt of our age has been allowed to grow unchecked. All the problems and struggles that confront the growth of our civilization depend entirely on whether we can get an exhausted man back upon his feet and keep him there. If the answer is a negative one, our past counts for nothing: The reasons for this exhaustion are all documented and detailed in the archives of the past fifty years.

Altogether they amount to the exhaustion of a man with asthma having run a marathon race and found there were no trophies or glory at the end of it. That is exactly our own position. With every decade since the turn of the century we have intensified our endeavours while our condition has deteriorated. Now it seems that despite all our efforts, knowledge and hopes, besides the lives jettisoned in their millions, we have achieved nothing.

The dry taste of futility lingers in the mouth of all. The energy of any flying spark is in itself enough to arouse popular amazement. The supineness of the intelligent is the tragic paradox of the Atomic Age. Only the insulated specialists, bafflingly capable of drawing the blinds against all other realities, remain enthusiastic about tomorrow. The evidence of exhaustion stares out from the columns of the daily newspapers. That the rejection is equally pointless does not appear to matter; the sincerity redeems it.

Significantly, the more thoughtful go only a few steps further to admire such writers as Samuel Beckett, Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller. All of these playwrights have distinguished them-selves for creating small men and women whose unlikely poetry is in their bewilderment in an inexplicable and often tyrannical world. The heroism of the Twentieth Century Man, as currently postulated, is: This is the landscape a new writer looks upon this year. Every-thing has deteriorated from the point in the mids we optimistically imagined to be already rock-bottom.

What is left is a mockery of attempt, accomplishment and greatness. It would be too easy to be angry and join the lynching parties.

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Nor is it for a writer to subscribe to the general bankruptcy, despair and apathy around him, whatever popularity might be obtained from it. If there is a task for the writer, it is to stand up higher than anyone else and discover the escape route to progress. His function is to find a way towards greater spiritual and mental health for his civilization in particular and his species in general.

This is my own intention, and unless other writers adopt the same attitude our civilization will remain leaderless, lost and exhausted, and the chaos will continue until its eclipse under radio-active clouds. Literature has been an accelerating factor to this state of affairs over the last decade. Instead of acting as a brake it has been intent upon glorifying the lostness, the smallness and the absolute impotence of Man under adverse conditions.

This is the reverse of what its role must be in the future. It must begin to emphasize in every way possible that Man need not be the victim of circumstances unless he is too old, shattered or sick to be anything else. If this is denied, then we are indeed due for elimination. But contemporary writing will not bring itself to this assertion until it has been wrenched clear of its embrace with a falling society.

The dismaying fact is, most writers seem quite satisfied to act out their present hysterical offices to the length of disaster itself. Their conversion is enough to set any salvationist with work to last several lifetimes. It is customary for young writers to condemn those who have authority and influence. For my own part, I am unable to do this because I find their exhaustion only too understandable. The leaders of our civilization have strained at hopelessly impossible tasks for too long, and instead of creating a new structure for living, they have succeeded only in producing a succession of failures.

Today they have reached a standstill, and the prospect of marshalling together one more attempt has become an outrage against all reason and experience. They are reasonable men and their conclusion is, in the light of what they have done, entirely rational.

If reason or rationalism can accept exhaustion, by the same terms ruin and death are equally acceptable. But survival is our inflexible rule of health; and since survival has become a completely irrational instinct, the time has arrived when we should look to the irrational for the means to reject this reasonable but humanly speaking unacceptable end of our civilization.

Firm upon this premise, I predict that within the next two or three decades we will see the end of pure rationalism as the foundation of our thinking. If we are to break out of our present encirclement, we must envisage Man from now on as super-rational; that is, possessing an inner compass of certainty beyond all logic and reason, and ultimately far more valid. The times we are entering require a far more flexible and powerful way of thinking than rationalism ever provided.

Each new explosion shadow-boxes with genetical mutations in the coming generations. The fish harvests from the oceans are diminishing. The problems of soil erosion and the reclamation of land swallowed up by water remain unattended. These are only a few of the more obvious questions that call for solutions on a new level.

A level of universal planning that can only be encompassed by a supranational body like world government. Meanwhile, science advances every year a trifle further beyond the comprehension of most of the human race. The path of a civilization in our disorders leads directly to its extermination. And, while we take it, Proustians talk about their sensitivity in dark rooms and stylists continue to manufacture their glittering sentences.

But it will go on, as I say, until writers turn away and look objectively to another part of the horizon. I have stated that Man is more than rational, and that if he is not, he is finished. Now I take the argument forward another step and assert that his current exhaustion is the vacuum created by an absence of belief.

At the beginning of this credo I declared that only a religious strength could conquer exhaustion, and by religious strength I meant, specifically, belief: A complete dearth of belief mathematically equates to utter exhaustion. It is no coincidence that it has struck the most responsible members of our society; they are the ones who have had the responsibility of scraping the barrel of reason and materialism.

The same exhaustion will strike at the leaders of the East just as surely within a span of time roughly corresponding, no doubt, to our own venture into pure rationalism. Through history, the men and women who have towered over their contemporaries through their achievements and struggles have had extraordinary levels of belief. They have ranged from visionaries, saints and mystics to fanatics and plain, self-professed, men-of-destiny. Whether their beliefs were in an external thing—let us say the Church—or simply in themselves, was a matter of little importance.

The result in every case was sufficiently positive to make them memorable. Each of them was primarily separated from those around him by a greater capacity for belief. It took all of them high above the eternally small, grumbling, self-pitying parts that constitute personality. Reason, on the other hand, will have us acknowledge them, even when the recognition is disastrous, as now. The admission of a permanent state of incompleteness has been made by a great many people and much of the damage I have referred to is the direct result of it. But their places have to be filled. It has become imperative that, just as a new way of thinking and a new literature are needed, a new leadership must also be evolved with the aim of combating this exhaustion by the restoration of belief.

When I speak of belief in the present context, I do not mean any belief in particular, of course, but rather belief divorced from all form whatsoever. Whatever the choice, the reservoir of power within belief offers any writer the certainty of major work. It is obvious that this concern with belief leads inevitably to the heroic. The two are joined as essentially as flight to birds. The hero is the primary condition of all moral education, and his reality is synonymous with any great idea. He is literally the personification of the dramatic concept.

But the heroic poses the possibility of people who can think and act with a magnitude close to the superhuman. The introduction of such characters and events will require a great deal of care and skill, for the ridiculous is only one step away. The greatest difficulty overhanging this work, however, will be in the motive force itself.

There has been a nonsensical confusion between belief and religion that has lasted for centuries. Instead of belief finding its separate identity, it has always been inextricably tied to religion. Churches of every denomination deliberately fostered this misconception from their beginnings, for the belief latent in men responded to hot appeal and willingly testified to the truth of any proffered set of doctrines.

The nature of belief appears to be conducive to appeals. Its generosity is evident in this respect when we examine many of the childish and absurd inventions the various religions have offered worshippers at one time or another. It is quite true that the Church has been the only vehicle for belief on any sizeable scale up to the present, and deserves credit for it, although self-interest provided its own reward. But it is absurd to regard belief on the basis of tradition as the monopoly of any organization. The Church was the first to understand the potentialities of its power and was also the first to direct it to an end; but sole proprietary rights were assumed too rigidly for the Church to pass us now as a public benefactor.

Those who tried to break the monopoly were decried as heretics. Where it could, the Church had them burnt. This confiscation of belief and its isolation under the steeple brought about the Reformation and eventually the George Foxes and other champions of the right to independent belief. Over the past fifty years there has been a general rejection of all churches with the sole exception of the strongest, Catholicism.

The rejection parcelled belief with the Church and disposed of both. It was the result of a considerable amount of ignorance and a distinct lack of subtlety. Today, the same excuses do not hold, and if the mistake is repeated, it can never be done with the same blind vehemence of the first rejection. If this social exhaustion of ours is due to the rejection of belief, how can writers reclaim it? There are three choices open, at least. The first is the establishment of a new religion. The second, to revitalize and reconstruct Christianity. The third, to trace belief to its source and turn it to a new account.

The argument against the first is that a new religion, whatever advantages it would have supposing for a moment that it should find an ample crop of visionaries, priests, theologians and militant doctrines , would suffer from its lack of tradition more than it would profit by its modernity. Although many people talk somewhat loosely about the need for a new religion, the very impossibility of it as an overnight phenomenon rules it out for today.

However, should this particular miracle come to pass, its contribution to our civilization would be a substantial one while it was sustained by its visionaries. But as soon as the visionaries died, its hierarchy would become rigid as precedents in the history of every church show us without exception. There would be no more room for succeeding visionaries with their tradition-breaking habits in this church than in any other. A priest is a poor substitute for a visionary. So poor, in fact, that the plenitude of them against the paucity of visionaries has largely dissuaded many who with the right inspiration would be religious.

A visionary has the prerogative of freely contradicting himself while still retaining his influence. Subsequent generations of priests accept the dogmas laid out for them without demur or question on the same grounds. This is orthodoxy; its strength is in its ossification. The more rigid the observance, the more virtuous the believer. There can be no prospect more terrible for any prophet coming after, and this is when a church really dies.

When it is attacked from without, what is sent crashing is cardboard: As this argues against the possibility of a new religion arising, it argues equally against the impossibility of a revitalized Christianity. Any great idea, if it is perpetuated without continual reappraisals, is eventually rendered into ritualistic twaddle and shibboleths that justify the cheapest sneers although not the spirit of its detractors. And finally, the sad truth is that the only men courageous enough to approach great ideas and test their truth are men of equal stature to their formulators.

No church that I am aware of has produced an apostolic succession of this order, so we must put aside both possibilities as impractical for anyone who hopes to work within his own times. The last alternative is the one that, under the circumstances, is the most realistic. If we can trace belief to its origins and examine it in terms of plain, unadorned power, we have a potential weapon that will play an immeasurable part in our salvaging.

I am convinced that it is an internal power comparable, when fully released, to the external explosions of atomic energy. If we can learn the answers to these questions, Man may be transformed within a few years from the hardening corpse he has become into a completely alive being. The change can only be for the better. One of the most tiring assumptions that has gained universality is that Man is completely plotted, explored and known. Dancing to the cafe orchestra of Darwin and Freud, there has been a tendency over the last fifty years to regard humanity as a fully arrived and established quantity that has little variation and no mystery to the scientist.

Nothing could be more untrue. Man is so embryonic that attempting to define him today is preparing a fallacy for tomorrow. He is inchoate, only just beginning. Given unlimited belief and vitality, he is capable of all the impossibilities one cares to catalogue, including the most preposterous. Equally, without belief and vitality, he is simply decaying meat like any other fatally wounded animal. The difference will be largely decided by writers.

This is not a disproportionate claim. Writers have always influenced and led the thinking of their own times, immediately after the heads of State and Church. Sometimes, as with the Voltaires, a long way in front of either of them. The present heads of State are clearly unable to see a way through the difficulties of today, and there is no reason for us to suppose they can do any better with tomorrow. The non-existence of any influential Church leaders in Britain prohibits any criticism of their recalcitrance. The only remaining candidates qualified as leaders are writers.

The Greeks, unlike ourselves, expected their literary men to be thinkers and teachers as a matter of course. This expectation was justified by figures of the stature of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. Dramatists like these preached, taught, entertained and prophesied with such vitality and authority that their judgements were taken away by their audiences and applied to all levels of civic life.

That both playwrights and audiences prospered upon this didactic relationship is best shown by the intellectual versatility of the Hellenic world, which has yet to be repeated. When Bernard Shaw demanded that the theatre should be a church, he also meant that the ideal church should be a serious theatre. So it was in the Greek world. Nobody could afford to miss a sermon of this sort, because there was nothing more intellectually and spiritually exciting to be found from Kephallenia to far Samoso. Each new drama-sermon made the Kingdom of Man a titanic affair that could not be taken casually, and if this is not a religious understanding, there is no such thing!

In addition to this laudable state of sanity, they had none of the blank one-sidedness about them that stamps the orthodox priest, because their real religion was Man, and no other. Because Man is only human when he is in movement, they were able to throw him into catastrophic dilemmas that modern religion would regard as blasphemous. But they threw him only to retrieve him, and by this method they were able to add new understandings of his darker territories and enlarge his consciousness.

With the aid of such dramatists the citizens of the Greek city-states developed into creditable human beings. But the high level of the theatre was to fall, and the whole of the Greek world was not long in following it. When the Roman Empire rose to take its place, Terence and Seneca, the bright lights of Latin, reflected a frightening deterioration in what was expected of a writer.

Julius Caesar found it an easy matter to be both a swashbuckler and a scribe in a world that, culturally, could not even conquer sculpture. However, when I call in history to augment my contentions I am beating upon a broken drum. The role I predict for writers is one entirely without precedent, and it is the better because of it. Aeschylus and his colleagues refined the Greeks, and that was quite enough for their day.

But today writers must become the pathfinders to a new kind of civilization. That new civilization remains an impossibility until we extricate our own civilization from the destruction that threatens it. The problem is that of the individual. What kind of man or woman survives cataclysmic events better than any others? What kind of people are the first to fall? What are the first disciplines necessary for a new, positive way of thinking? These questions, together with ten thousand others, fall into the kind of prophetic writing that will be needed to solve the problems that lie immediately ahead.

The duty then of all writers who are concerned with tomorrow is to concentrate on defining human characters at differing stages of ideal health. From this gallery it will be possible for us to aim at men and women dynamically capable of laying the foundations of our new world. We may not be able to describe precisely the men and women we want, but at least we can provide a reasonable indication.

We can narrow the perimeter of choice. I realize that there is as great a difference between facts and speculations in the minds of writers as in the minds of ordinary people. The great difference is that writers are particularly suited to the correlation of apparently hostile facts, often blatant contradictions, and their craft teaches them to deepen and extend thoughts to final understandings that seem almost mystical to the average person.

This talent to reach down into the depths of men and find appalling corruption, and far from being ruined by the revelation proceed to conceive supreme peaks of human perfection, is common to both writer and visionary. There is no reason why they should be different in other ways, if the dedication is strong enough. Until now most writers have concerned themselves with recording the anomalies and cruelties perpetrated by a skinflint world upon a good small man.

Modern literature, for lack of a great aim, has become a Valhalla for those who shriek, beat their brows and weep more energetically than anyone else. As a device, hysteria is very useful for a writer, but as an end it becomes patently ludicrous. Any writer who resorts to such tricks without offering a ticket of destination is wasting his own time and the time of his readers, flouting the Zeitgeist in the most imbecilic fashion, and finally I hope cutting his own throat.

The truth of today is too plain for clear-thinking people to ignore, however uncomfortable it may be to the inherently lazy. We must grow larger. If we are not capable of meeting these seemingly unattainable requirements, writers such as myself will persist obstinately in trying to have things as we want them even if the words are finally addressed to the abyss rather than human faces. If the crusade is a hopeless one, it will be so only because there is nothing more impregnable than human weakness. This is an important conclusion, and its recognition offers three salient truths.

Second, a writer must take upon himself the duties of the visionary, the evangelist, the social leader and the teacher in the absence of other candidates. Third, that he understands the impossible up-hill nature of a crusade and counters it by infusing in everything he creates a spirit of desperation. This spirit of desperation is the closest approximation we can get to the religious fervour that brought about a large number of miraculous feats of previous, less reasonable, epochs.

In desperation, as with religious exaltation, miracles, revelations and extraordinary personalities can be brought to everyday acceptance. The great advantage of it is that one can develop it to the point of being able to evoke it whenever there is cause for it. I used the atmosphere of desperation in my first novel, The Divine and the Decay , very much in the way that a wind comes through an open door, throws a room into a sudden disarray, then leaves as abruptly.

The wind in this case is a fanatic, and the room with an open door a small island community. As always in such cases, one is left perplexed and filled with a sense of indefinable outrage that has little to do with the disarray that must be restored to order. There is something maniacal about a really desperate man that welds him into a total unity and he becomes an embodiment of a single idea.

Almost, dramatically speaking, flesh wrapped around an idea. Working for so long with desperation as my tool, I also learned about the merits of the lull, when the air vibrated with the foreboding of the next entrance. I relearned also a Greek lesson: But these details are worth mentioning only in relation to the use of desperation in contradistinction to the monotonous normality that most writers regard as the acme of reality.

Desperation is the only attitude that can galvanize us from this lethargic non-living of ours. But without a calculated direction desperation is useless. Misadventures in its application can leave us dangerously drained of further effort. Consider the case of Sisyphus, whom the Gods had forever rolling that gigantic boulder of his up a hill and forever having it roll down again when he neared the top. The punishment was inflicted upon only too human strength.

But with enough desperation the penalized king would not have attempted to roll it up after the first couple of attempts. He would have picked it up and flung it over the impossible crest, straight into the faces of his Olympian tormentors. I can think of many contemporary equivalents of the Sisyphean plight that are incessant defeats only because each of the sufferers refuses to rear up and wreck his opposition with the fury of desperation.

Refuse to acknowledge them and the horizon spreads wide. This cannot be done without examples, as I have said. The examples themselves can only be set by fanatics advancing be-yond the arena of human experience and knowledge. Simultaneously, he becomes a social leader also, for humanity having to travel beyond the point where it now rests will only use paths already trodden. New paths can only be created by writers with a desperate sense of responsibility.

The only others capable of such a task are religious and philosophic minds, but unfortunately orthodoxy has ruined the first, and a desiccation debars the second. In resting the responsibility of human deliverance upon writers I am not calling for miraculous transitions antipathetic to their nature. Fundamentally, the writer has always been a prophet and a diviner in embryo. I want their return, and I want them cultivated to full growth.

This outstanding book captures the qualities of this greatest of Byzantine edifices. The text is by Dr Cyril Mango, an internationally respected authority on Byzantine art and architecture. Also included is a selection of remarkable 18th and 19th century drawings of Hagia Sophia. Paperback Edited and Photographed by Yukio Futagawa. Text by Riichi Miyake We add: Text in Japanese and English. With Architectures in this issue 2. Modern Architecture Kenneth Frampton. With 85 Architectures in this issue 3. With 76 Architectures in this issue.

Published in the series GA Architect. The new Japanese architecture. New York, Rizzoli, Tadao Ando Tokyo, A. Published in the series: The Japan Architect, inaugural issue. Hiroshi Hara Tokyo, A. Criticism by David B. Edited and photographed by Yukio Futagawa, criticism by Kenneth Frampton. Essays by David B. Stewart and Hajime Yatsuka. Amsterdam, Petrus Schenk, Gr in-folio 48 x 31 cm. Met 30 dubbelgrote kopergravures van Jan Schenk. Enkele platen met bleke marginale watervlekken. Kartonnage bekleed met modern marmerpapier, rug versterkt met rood linnen.

King was an English architect, who lived in Bruges from till and greatly influenced the emergence of the Gothic Revival with the Saint Luke Movement on the European continent. The plates depict mediaeval metal work in great detail. GA Architect - Global Architecture. Chronicle of Modern Architects Tokyo, A. Edited and photographed by Yukio Futagawa. Text by Mirko Zardini. Hard cover and dust jacket.

Preliminary Studies Mario Botta. Tokyo, GA Gallery, Edited by Yukio Futagawa. Interview by Alvin Boyarsky.

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We add from the same series: Text in Japanese and partly in English. Text by Teji Itoh, edited and photographed by Yukio Futagawa. Space in Japanese architecture. Translated by Hiroshi Watanabe. Measure and Construction of the Japanese House. The electronic poem by Le Corbusier. This plaquette has been drawn from the volume published at the Editions de Minuit. Towards a new architecture. London, Architectural Press, With 43 photographs and 9 illustrations in text. Text in English, German and French. Hardcover, original cardboard box. His influence on post-war architecture is undisputed, the sunny climate and rich landscape being particularly suited to his cool, sleek modern style.

Boissonas, en feuilles, sous portfolio. Quelques mouillures dans les marges. Facsimile in 4 parts and 1 volume with transcription and commentary. All bound in black leather, together in a slipcase and cardboard box. The poetry of Architecture: The Nature of Gothic.

A Chapter from the Stones of Venice. Sunnyside, George Allen, Reliure en toile verte, jaquette. Facsimile of the Album La Roche, bound in beige cloth, is in a case of black cardboard. The entire case is contained in a slipcover. Published in a limited, numbered edition. The Shaker World, art, life, belief. New York, Abrams, Religion in Wood, a Book of Shaker furniture. Indiana University Press, The American Shakers and their furniture. New York, Knopf, - Robert P. University Press of New England, New York, Bonanza, - Milton C.

Het analogon van een proletarisch architectuur; Nr. De Romaneske Stad; Nr. De glans der dingen: Demi reliure en peau de truie. Burgundy leather binding, illustrated dust jacket and slipcase. Fine copy Made available through the institute of the history of Natural sciences, Chinese Academy of Science, this book reflects the work of more than prominent Chinese scientists, scholars and other experts in ancient Chinese Arch. An encyclopedic survey of the traditional architecture of China, spanning over 4, years from Neolithic structures to late imperial times, and considering both Han Chinese and minority traditions.

Covering private, official and religious buildings, as well as fortifications, stupas, bridges, walls and garden design, virtually no area of human construction has been overlooked. China Institute in America, Tao in der Architektur. Text in German and English. Elke plaat gemonteerd, maar pl. Wat vervuild, vlekken, op de keerzijde van heel wat platen oude potloodschetsen. De titelpagina vermeldt dat de platen gegrav. Texte et dessins par Viollet-le-Duc avec 8 gravures en couleurs.

Bound in half morocco, spine gilt, somewhat worn. Zeer belangrijk persoonlijk archief van de kunstenaar. Prijs van Rome voor de Graveerkunst in Maakt gelegenheidsgrafiek en talrijke ex-librissen. The Boucicaut Master, London, , pp. The late Fourteenth century and the patronage of the Duke, London, , 2 vol. The Limbourgs and their contemporaries, London, , 2 vol. Der Buchdruck des Wiegendrucke in der Zeitenwende. De la Rue The Rise and progres of Engraving. Of Engraving in general 3. Of Engraving, Etching, and Scraping of copper, as now practised 4. An Idea of a Fine Collection of Prints and 5.

Sewn, loose in modern paper cover, pages uncut, some wormholes and foxing. Van Hove The modern Memlinc. De middeleeuwse wereld op perkament Leuven, Davidsfonds, Blauwe linnen band met goudopdruk in bedrukte stofwikkel en blauwe linnen beschermdoos. Gebonden in half leder, versleten. Een pantomine-gedicht in twee delen voor een stem, piano, fluit, gitaar en drums met een bruitage van vijf stemmen. Oplage van ex. Genaaid, zeer fris exemplaar. Voor twaalf lezers en een snurkende recensent, 5 - Slagter.

Tekst en beeld, p. Van Oest et Cie, Beperkte oplage van exx. Half lederen band, rug vernieuwd. Reproducties naar futuristisch schilderwerk van Baldessari, Depero, Russolo en Vinicio Paladini in nr. Andere extra platen zijn niet aanwezig. Geniet de eerste 2 nrs. In behoorlijk goede staat van bewaring. Bijgevoegd is een originele hs. Zodra Jozef Peeters Geert Pynenburg verving als uitgever, bij nr. Facsimile van de oudste druk van het Vlaamse volksboek Antwerpen, De Vlijt, Met kanttekeningen bij de illustratie van de Nederlandse uitgaven door Fr.

Facsimile op glanzend papier, inleiding door Prof. Gebonden in rood half chagrin, rug verguld. Les livres populaires flamands.

Verlucht met 2 front. Genaaid, onafgesneden, zwarte glanzende papieren kaften. Interessant werk over bereiden van verven, haarkleuring, schilderkunst, schilderen op glas, pastel, levensbeschrijvingen van kunstschilders, vernissen, lakken, graveerkunst, esthetica, onderscheid tussen origineel of kopie enz. Van Cobra naar New Babylon Het complete grafische werk Amsterdam, Meulenhoff, Voorwoord Enrico Baj, inleiding op het grafisch werk Michel Casse.

Gele linnen band en stofwikkel. Amstelveen, Cobra Museum voor Moderne Kunst, Blauwe linnen band en stofwikkel. Corneille Een vroege vogel zijn onbekende werken Amsterdam, Galerie Elisabeth den Bieman de Haas, Zwarte linnen band en stofwikkel samen: Genaaid, met klein mankement onderaan de rug. Met een mooie opdracht van de auteur aan Paul Citroen, gedateerd en gesigneerd. Slagter, tekst en beeld, p.

Folder over Hugo Claus, op blauw papier. In uitgegeven door NBLC. Tout ce qui a paru. Au sommaire texte ou illustration: Losbladig, in de uitgeverskaft met flappen. Claus, voor twaalf lezers en een snurkende recensent, nr. Festschrift zur ersten deutschen Ensorausstellung Hannover, Kestner, Beperkte oplage van 50 exemplaren.

Dit exemplaar niet genummerd. Losbladig, randen van de omslag heel licht verkleurd, bleke vlekjes. De emotionele uitwerking en het ruimtescheppend vermogen van kleur blijft ongebruikt, terwijl kleur evenzeer een ruimtebepalende factor is als de constructieve ruimte. Kleur moet niet worden.

Op de eerste verdieping had zij een kunstgalerij waar ze tussen , met uitzondering van de oorlogsjaren, tentoonstellingen, literaire voordrachten en muzikale avonden organiseerde. Gerbosch et James Ensor. Roemans en van Assche, Bibliografie van Karel Jonckheere, nr. Vol lederen band met goudopdruk uit de tijd. Dessins en rouge par James Ensor. Beperkte genummerde oplage van exemplaren, dit is nr. Genaaid, originele omslag, voorste scharnier wat zwak, rug verkleurd.

Conceptualists like Nauman typically disguised cleverness as daffiness. Los Angeles Times 11 Feb. Beperkte oplage van ex. Tekst van Maurits Bilcke. Losbladig, in papieren omslag. In zeer goede staat. Losbladig, in de originele papieren omslag rug gescheurd, ezelsoren, verbruind. Mooie uitgave van het avant-garde tijdschrift Het Overzicht.

Revolver Jaargang 6, aflevering - Roger Raveel. Oplage genummerde exemplaren. Garenloos, als een tekenblok. Gemonogrammeerd in de plaat. Los in een tekenmap, met sluitlinten. Title spread across front and back covers so that front cover reads: Folio 46 x 29 cm met een oplage van 75 exemplaren. Vooraan een handgeschreven opdracht voor Carlo De Poortere. Originele zwarte uitgeversmap met goudopdruk. Met drie los ingestoken briefkaarten in facsimile. Dit is de eerste en enige publicatie van uitgeverij De Luchtbuks. Het werd gedrukt op de pers van Dick Wessels te Antwerpen.

Handgebonden in blauw linnen, met stofomslag, als nieuw. Amsterdam, De Arbeiderspers, Telkens worden, op geamuseerde toon, en zonder sarcasme, bekrompenheid en fanatisme gehekeld. Zeer antifascistisch stuk, geschreven in , maar dit is de eerste gedrukte vorm. Chansons de tristesse Amstelveen, AMO, Verguld linnen Binderij Phoenix. Gedichten Amsterdam, De Arbeiderspers, Deventer, Openbare Bibliotheek, Ter gelegenheid van het jarig bestaan van de Openbare Bibliotheek te Deventer.

Met tekeningen van Peter van Straaten. Beperkte oplage, niet in de handel. De taal als blauw. Alle stukken in blauw een vers in rood, een getypt op 23 blaadjes uit een losbladige zakagenda, bijeengehouden door splitpennen. Samen in een fraaie blauwe linnen bewaardoos met Boudewijn-. Exemplaar gesigneerd door de auteur en met correcties een aanvullingen. Kartonnen band, met stofwikkel samen: Litho in een oplage van 75 op de pers genummerde en door auteur en kunstenaar gesigneerde exemplaren, dit is nr. Halflinnen overslagband met twee platten Binderij Van Waarden.

Uitverkocht bij de uitgever. Vierde gezamenlijke boekproductie van Campert en Ysbrant Bijgevoegd: In de namiddag een standbeeld opwinden Facsimile-uitgave, verschenen bij Demian in ZL van juli met o. Het neusje van de inktvis. Brussel, Manteau, samen: Dit is schrift 3 van jaargang 9 der Vrije Bladen. Gent, De Vlam, z. Voorin zijn nog twee ill. Kartonnen kaft met portret van de dichter. Genaaid, vlekjes op de kaft.

Antwerpen, De Sikkel, z. Mechelen, Het Kompas, Jaarboek van Vlaamse Jongeren. Sleutelbos op Gaston Burssens. Met Gaston Burssens in de cel. Alle de wercken van Jacob Cats Zwolle, erven J. Kaiser naar Van de Venne. Linnen uitgeversband, blindgestempeld, ruggen vernieuwd, knepen versterkt, hoeken gedeukt. De teleurgang van de waterhoek. Van den os en den ezel. Met de hand gezet uit de Gill en de Spectrum en gedrukt op Zerkall. Originele band, zonder stofwikkel. Antwerpen, Standaard Boekhandel, Over reizen en reizigers. Borgerhout, Het Fonteintje, De geschiedenis van Black.

Beperkte genummerde oplage van exemplaren, dit is ex. In een luxueus foedraal. Genaaid, in originele kaft. Du Perron, Cahiers van een lezer Facsimile herdruk van de ed. Soft covers, in een zwart schuifdoos. Linnen uitgeversband, wat vlekjes, voorste scharnier zwak. Linnen uitgeversband met stofwikkel. De oplage bedraagt 75 genummerde exemplaren, dit is nr. Losbladig, bijeen gehouden door kunststof klemband.

Klein vlekje onderaan de titelpagina, enkele vlekjes op de cover, verder zeer goed bewaard. Eerste druk in boekvorm, verscheen eerst in het tijdschrift Criterium. Rommelpot, tijdschrift, 9 april In dit nummer van het Vlaams-nationale satirische weekblad werd een oude versie van het Bormsgedicht van Willem Elsschot gepubliceerd, dit tot grote consternatie van de dichter zelf. Zwijgen kan niet verbeterd worden, ongebundelde teksten. Diverse auteurs, onder wie Willem Elsschot p. Met talloze karikaturale illustraties van Stef. Rode linnen uitgeversband, goud op de kop, rug verguld.

Idyllen en andere gedichten. De gouden distel, legenden en kronijken. Vlaamsche volksvertelsels uit den volksmond opgeschreven. Schilders van Hier en Nu. Enschede en Zonen, In-plano, 5 gedichten van Verhegghe bij 5 gesign. Woord vooraf door Dirk Frimout. Oplage van 90 genum. Typografie van Jan Willem Stas. Linnen band en stofwikkel. De rug is gesigneerd door Tom Lanoye. Amsterdam, Prometheus, samen: Genaaid, met stofwikkels, als nieuw. Verschenen in de Gard Sivik-reeks, Serie I, deel 1. Een mond zonder alibi.

Verschenen in de Gard Sivik-reeks, Serie I, deel 2. De adem van de jazz. Rozegeur, maneschijn, helse kritieken. Omslag uitgevoerd door Jan Willem Stas. Arkprijs van het Vrije Woord voor Tom Lanoye. Oplage van 63 genum. Allen gesigneerd door de auteur. Geniet, opgeborgen in 7 kartonnen omslagen. De vader op zyn sterfbed. Brief aen den uitgever van het Belgische Museum over de Elnonensia en de Oudnederlandsche versmaet. Een willekeurige keus gedichten in facsimile handschrift van Jaak Van den Iepe en linogravures van Leopold Sels.

Dit luxe-exemplaar maakt deel uit van een reeks van , gedrukt op handgeschept LANA en draagt het nummer Elk gedicht en elke gravure gesigneerd in potlood. Frans Hemerijckx, Vlaams leproloog van wereldformaat. Eerste druk, wat gevlekt, oorspronkelijke uitgeverskartonage. Met portret van Ch. Met verantwoording, varianten, dokumentatie, bibliografie en registers. Genaaid, met flappen, beschermdoos in golfkarton, bedrukt met verzen en tekeningen. Amsterdam, De Bezige Bij, Met tekst van Bert Schierbeek, samengesteld door Ad Petersen.

Gedichten sub signo libelli, Breugelmans, het zegel van de libel, nr. Amsterdam, Bert Bakker, Omslag ontworpen door Jimi Dams. Foto achterplat van de. Bibliofiele uitgave, gedrukt op de persen van drukkerij Erasmus, beperkte genummerde oplage van exx, 1 van de 50 kopexemplaren op Val de Laga handgeschept papier, nr. Met een originele foto van de auteur bijgevoegd en een opdracht op de titel.

Pas rond zijn zestigste jaar trad hij opnieuw naar voren als dichter. Gustaaf de Bruyne was een beroemd schilder uit Mechelen. De oplage bestaat uit vijfenzeventig door de auteur genummerde en gesigneerde exemplaren in originele band met monotype van de dichter. Dit is nummer 3. De Nederlandsche boekhandel, Diep in de velden van Elysium. Scalden, jaarboek voor negentienhonderd. Perkamenten band met sluitlinten. Genaaid, nog niet opengesneden. Een zomer aan zee, in memoriam Adriaan Roland Holst. En het binnenomslag is ook al fraai vormgegeven, met een Luchtkasteel in houtsnede door Jan Franken Pzn.

De exploten van Tabarijn. A4-formaat, 26 losse bladen. Met biografie, 2 gedichten, bibliografie, literaire bekroningen, catalogus van de tentoongestelde werken en 10 illustraties in kleur met afbeeldingen van werk van Paul Snoek. Geniet, met een kopie van de toespraak van G. Sint Niklaas - Brussel, Vlaamse Gemeenschap, Roggeman in gesprek met Paul Snoek.

Genaaid in originele uitgeverskaft. Vertaald in het Frans door Roger Verheyen. Het oog op den heuvel. De heldentocht van de Alexis, Collectie van dichtbundels en prozawerken 1. Gedichten voor Maria Magdalena. De Bezige Bij, Ik ben steeds op doorreis. Rexine band uit de tijd. Traduit du flamand par Pierre Maes. Met houtsneden van Jan Verschueren. De Liedjes van Hilda. Leuven, Kunst bij Kaarslicht, In losse katernen, met uitgeverskaften, samen in een kartonnen bewaardoos, wat vergeeld. Antwerpen, De Sikkel, Gedrukt bij Bohez te Vichte. Gerafelde randen, vlekjes, opgerold bewaard, deze aanplakbrief is werkelijk opgehangen.

Pieter Bruegel, zoo heb ik u uit uwe werken geroken. Het tragi-komisch wedervaren van Jozef De Coene uit het begin van de Eerste Wereldoorlog, hij verhaalt hoe De Coene en zijn vrienden nieuwsgierig de oorlogsverrichtingen tegemoet waren getrokken en bij Geluwe hachelijke momenten beleefden tussen de Duitse en Engelse voorposten. Gebonden op Japanse wijze, met prachtige acajou platten.

De vier vrienden trekken er in de jaren twintig vaak samen op uit. Saverys is schilder maar werkt tevens als ontwerper voor de Kunstwerkstede, terwijl zijn vriend Streuvels de functie van artistiek leider van de huisdrukkerij De Eikelaar opneemt. Ex libris van Joh. Naar waar de appelsienen groeien. De pastoor uit Den Bloeyenden Wijngaerdt. Antwerpen, Standaard Uitgeverij, Rode linnen band en stofwikkel samen: Enkele bladen met roestvlekjes. Pallieter, versierd door Anton Pieck. Bedrukte linnen band, zonder stofwikkel.

Het kindeken Jezus in Vlaanderen. Vierde druk, met tekeningen van FT. Genaaid, rug gebroken, komt wat los samen: Kartonnen uitgeversband, rug vergeeld, achterste scharnier zwak. Met tekeningen van FT. Antwerpen, Het Kompas, Genaaid, zonder kaft of band samen: Gedrukt in zwart en rood met initialen getekend door Alphonse Stols.

In de reeks Trajectum ad Mosam, nr. Bordeaux linnen band en stofwikkel. In passe-partout en houten lijst van ClaesVloebergs, Leuven. Een gedicht Den Haag, A. Genaaid, originele omslag, enkele bleke vlekjes. Beperkte oplage van exemplaren. Gebonden in half linnen.

Tweede uitgave, op Oud-Hollands papier. Gedichten, het ronde perk, lichtende golven. Amsterdam, Maatschappij voor goede en goedkoope lectuur, In een luxueuze vergulde lijst van Schleiper. Keuze uit de gedichten, gedrukt in chronologische volgorde voor E. Gebonden in half perkament, titel verguld op de rug, platten in ivoorkleurig linnen. Stols in een oplage van 30 exemplaren, niet in de handel. Dit is een ex. Rondom uitgeknipt en ingewerkt in papier door Albert Vierin. Niet gesigneerd, maar toegeschreven aan Gustave Van de Woestijne. Wat lichte bruine vlekjes. Oorspronkelijke linnen uitgeversband met goudopdruk wat sleet aan rug en hoekjes.

Originele aquarel, 31 x 20 cm, gesigneerd en gedateerd. De kerk is een tekening op bruin kraftpapier, in twee gescheurd. Alexeieff 21 compositions en noir dont 11 h. Originele aquarel, 20 x 28 cm, getiteld, gesigneerd en gedateerd. Ontwerp voor de omslag van Revolver, jaargang 16, nr. Dit tijdschrift is bijgevoegd. Collage en originele aquarel, 43 x 27 cm, gesigneerd en gedateerd. Dit boek is bijgevoegd, gesigneerd door de illustrator. Getekend in potlood door Vanriet en met zijn stempel links boven.

Paris, La Jeune Parque, Paris, Georges Briffaut, Au moins soyez discret! Originele aquarel, 40 x 25 cm, gesigneerd en gedateerd in potlood. Ontwerp voor een boekcover van Jef Geeraerts, niet uitgevoerd. Oorspronkelijke uitgeverskartonnage, wat vergeeld. Het zeldzame debuut van de schrijver. Kartonnen band, stofwikkel, rug verkleurd, klein scheurtje zonder verlies, portret van de schrijver door W. Hermans op de flap. De oplage bestaat uit exemplaren, dit is nr. Gebonden door boekbinderij Jansen te Edegem. En feuilles, sous chemise. Sans le dernier vol. Perrichon Livres en feuilles, sauf le vol.

Poe traduits par Baudelaire: On y joint le brouillon ms. Brangwyn is not known to have visited Poland and current research suggests that a large proportion of the etchings were based on photographs. Illustrations de Maurice Leloir. Paris, Compagnie de Saint-Gobain, En feuilles, sous couv. Hatherell en couleurs hors texte. Avec une traduction du psaume XXI par P. Claudel et des gravures de Daragnes Paris, Imprimerie Shueisha , ca. Tirage de luxe de ex.

Illustrations en couleurs de J. Avec de nombreuses lettres facs. Les fleurs du mal. La lithographie originale en front. For over 40 years his art has transported us to Provence, a region of rolling hills, warm evenings, reach colors and the bounty of the earth. La vie de Marie.

Gusman et Paul Baudier. Qqs faibles petites rouss. Alois Kolb was a Viennese artist and book illustrator known for his painterly etchings. Sous le pont Mirabeau. Le courage de ses actes. Limited edition of copies, one of the on Dutch Pannekoek no This copy belonged to J. Van Sandick handwritten annotation. Les deux derniers vol. With 24 exquisite etchings by Alois Kolb and four full-page magnificent etchings with tissue guards, each one signed in pencil at bottom right by Kolb.

Barnabooth, son journal intime. Gebrocheerd, in de originele uitgeverskaft, kaft hevig gevlekt. Toulouse, chez madame Richard, Tirage unique de 30 exx. Le Sphinx et autres contes bizarres. Illustrations de Roger Carle. Angomar et Priscilla, illustrations de Mariette Lydis. On y joint une aquarelle originale de deux femmes x mm , signature non lisible. Paris, Librairie de France, Stuyvaert 10 compositions h.

Ex-libris de Gabriel Opdebeek. Avec des vignettes en couleurs de Chas Laborde. Graphic artist raised in Leipzig, best known for his illustrations of Kafak, he was inspired by the early masters of German Expressionism Grosz, Dix He was also a sculptor. Guyot Paris, Marcel Seheur, Illustrated with 4 etchings by Nicholas Parry. Printed by hand on hale paper at the Tern Press. Fables de La Fontaine. Croquis et lettres de voyage de Berthold-Mahn. Anvers, Librairie des Arts, Librairie des Arts, Fleuret, illustration de A.

Un des ex. Introduction by Randolph Hughes. Illustrated by 11 copper engravings by John Buckland-Wright. Original red and yellow buckram, women in gilt and man in red on upper cover, spine lettered in gilt, top edges gilt, others edges untrimmed very slight fading to spine. Illustrations de Kwasson Tokyo, T. Au nombre de 14, elles couvrent chacune 2 ff. Les beffrois au soleil. Odes en son honneur. Avec une suite en sanguine des 48 aquarelles originales de J. Paris, Bernard Grasset, Ingelijst in houten lijst uit de tijd. Op de keerzijde staat: Leunende man - Aquarel 43,3 x 27,8 cm , Opgekleefd op karton, gemonteerd in passe-partout.

Litho in ovale vorm. Litho 23,8 x 14,4 cm samen: In behaalde hij de Prijs van Rome voor architectuur. Hotel de Phare in Oostende. Bigg, 50 x 58 cm, printed in colours by P. Smith, after a painting by W. Bigg, 48 x 58 cm, printed in colours. The birds are cut out and pasted down. Loose, formerly bound, edges gilt. By or after James Forbes , prolific writer and artist. Humorous large engraving depicting 54 playing-cards with standing male and female figures, each above a 4-line verse.

Muller b; Eigen Haard, , p. In this state, the captions below each card are different from the first state. Margins very skillfully repaired. Engraving after Perino del Vaga, c. Venus lectures Cupid while two other putti surround Venus. Volgens een oude nota op de keerzijde uit de collectie van Prins Karel Raversijde. Martius, Junius and November Three old handcol. Affiche in het Engels voor de fameuze tentoonstelling over de Vlaamse primitieven. Ontworpen door Hector Van Hulle, met kunstenaars in medaillons, stadswapens en voorstellingen van de gebouwen waar de tentoonstelling plaats vond in het hof van Gruuthuse en in de Kunst Academie.

Marginaal scheurtje, wat beduimeld. Ingelijst in vergulde lijst. Ontworpen ter gelegenheid van het zevende eeuwfeest in augustus Vooraan een kerstkribbe met daarachter Maria en Jozef. Achterzijde beschilderd en ingelijst in kader uit de tijd? Oorspronkelijke lijst in bladgoud Ch. Olie op doek, 60 x 50 cm, gesigneerd en gedateerd links onder, in een witte houten lijst. In deed hij inspiratie op in Spanje. Affiche gedrukt in lithografie 85 x 64 cm gedrukt in twee kleuren zwart en sepia met voorstelling van de Steenstraat met veel animatie en in de achtergrond het Belfort.

In een houten lijst. Grote chromolitho 56 x 37 cm ontworpen door Flori Van Acker; met tekst in gotisch lettertype en in rood en zwart. Tentoonstelling die plaatsvond van juni tot september Sporen van plooien, kleine marginale scheurtjes zonder verlies, kleine vlekjes in de rand. In passe-partout, ingelijst achter glas. Volgens nota op de keerzijde ca. Ingelijst in kader met goudrandje. Getekend en genummerd rechts onder nr. Olieverf op paneel, 40 x 50 cm, gesigneerd en gedateerd links onder.

In een vergulde lijst. Hij werd ereburger van Oudenburg. Dali, signed in pencil lower right. Tekening 3 x 5 cm met rechts onder monogram en datum Linnen passe-partout, houten lijst. Oorspronkelijke zwart houten lijst. Meeste eigenhandig getekend door de kunstenaar. Vele stukken zijn uniek en niet aanwezig in het prentenkabinet van Brugge. Persoonlijke verzameling van de kunstenaar.

Potloodtekening 28 x 19 cm , getekend links onder. Werk in Prentenkabinet Brussel en verschillende musea. Van den Oever Drie originele aquarellen, ca. De novelle, over Antwerpen in de Geuzentijd, waarvoor dit werk werd gemaakt, verscheen in Kader met gouden randje. Alle gesigneerd en gedateerd In een originele bewaardoos, met het monogram van Julien De Jaegher. Verschillende met kleur afgewerkt. Volgens oude nota velen niet in Prentenkabinet van de Stad Brugge.

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