所謂"法國信封地址詩"是指19末-20世紀文藝術館人士的做法.
那時可能人口少點 又採用人工讀/配送 (還沒用諸如郵政地址代碼等方式)
所以留給後人許多佳話.....
今天記一則
地址有韻 Monet, the Ultimate Impressionist.
...... Monet, the Ultimate Impressionist by Sylvie Patin 的台灣版本:《莫內:補捉光與色彩的瞬間》台北:時報1995 雖然譯者是中國的 有些用詞不容易懂:"馬拉美夫人受了氣"...此書還是很好的入門書: 中文的副標題可能出自莫伯桑的傳記之說法.英文版書名的 Ultimate雙關: 一指他是印象派最後的大師. 又指其品質很好.
Monet, the Ultimate Impressionis
馬拉美1890年寫給Monet的信封地址是有韻的
它的法文和英文請看
Mallarmé: The Poet and His Circle - Page 137 - Google Books Result
books.google.com/books?isbn=0801489938Rosemary Lloyd - 2005 - Biography & AutobiographyThe novelist Octave Mirbeau, apologizing to Mallarme for his absence from the lecture, asserted that "Monet's enthusiasm gave my regrets a particular form: it ...中文翻譯見 《莫內:補捉光與色彩的瞬間》第144頁. 沒有將他喜愛的"吉維尼"翻出.
******我在2004-2006 有一網路討論會SU
底下是2005年的一則
所有朋友的名字等我以後寫回憶錄再說了
----2007.3.18
漢清兄：
快快快！
告訴我，什麼是：
想起法國那位象徵大詩人的信封，一向把朋友的地址寫成讓郵差會意的詩。 Posted by 吉訶德 at March 17,2007 12:34
吉訶德
這問題讓我的gmail資料庫的弱點暴露
這位要寫天書的、要『骰子一擲』的信封故事，
Stéphane Mallarmé (1842-98ステファヌ・マラルメ) 馬拉梅（美） 馬辣魅
在1894 年，象徴主義詩人Stephane Mallarme (1842-1898) 應邀英國兩大名校演講，主題為「音樂與文學」。
Posted by hc at March 17,2007 13:56
He was also known for his rhyming addresses, a type of limerick
with which he would address his letters. This one he wrote for Renoir:
Villa des Arts, près l'Avenue
De Clichy, peint Monsieur Renoir,
Qui devant une épaule nue
Broie autre chose que du noir
At the Villa des Arts near the avenue
De Clichy, paints Monsieur Renoir,
Who, in front of a shoulder that's nude,
Feels something other than blue.
Posted by hc at March 17,2007 15:04
*****
joie de vivre ：大家幹嘛一直緊咬著不放
（joie de vivre 讀法和意思，請參考：http://www.answers.com/%20joie%20de%20vivre%20）
-----
hc：善心人士請解釋一下：
His letters and their envelopes are themselves small works of art: the letters often include drawings and poems, while most envelopes are decorated with flowers, stars and baroque handwriting. There is also humor. The fact that Rouveyre 【魯瑋爾】lived for some of the time at a boarding house called "La Joie de Vivre" encouraged Matisse to play word games with the address. On one envelope, he simply wrote: "Monseiur Rouveyre, Somewhere in France."
-- With No Time for Twilight, Matisse Filled Old Age With Vibrant Colors
By ALAN RIDING May 21, 2005
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/05/21/arts/design/21mati.html?8hpib
---
rl 留言：
re: 善心人士請解釋一下：...The fact that Rouveyre lived for some of the time at a boarding house called "La Joie de Vivre" ...
引文中的La Joie de Vivre可能是Matisse的畫作，背景為普羅旺斯地區（
亞威農）
http://site.voila.fr/lacart/peintres/matisse/joiedevivre.htm
【La joie de vivre
Henri Matisse, 1905
Huile sur toile, 174 x 238
Merion, Fondation Barnes, Pennsylvanie】
普羅旺斯地區也有以此為名之民宿
http://www.kleiber.idv.tw/france2002/Alps/la_joie_de_vivre.htm
但是不曉得Monseiur Rouveyre住的是不是此民宿。
信封只寫"Monseiur Rouveyre, Somewhere in France."能收到的話，法國郵政可以媲美台灣郵政，若是寄件人的話，就沒什麼了不起了。
『每日一字』於今年一月二十九日介紹過此詞組
http://mywebpage.netscape.com/rwaylin/wotd/wotd20050129.htm
今 天為大家介紹 joie de vivre 。這是本月二十日訪客留言的話題，我當時表示個人比較喜歡 les joies de la vie ，我個人認為兩詞組之間的意境是不同的： les joies de la vie 是「生活的種種樂趣」，有勸人及時行樂之意，而 la joie de vivre 則是「活著的喜悅」，好像歷經一場浩劫之後有感而發。或許你會發現，這種認知與※字義介紹※欄內的辭典解釋並不相同，就留待訪客細細體會比較。
【HC （時間：2005-01-20）
The nameless young Englishman who narrates William Nicholson's Kafkaesque new novel is in a foul mood as the book begins. He is moping in his room. With joie de vivre that makes Neil LaBute sound sunny by comparison, he complains bitterly about his family.
(joie de vivre:a feeling of great happiness and enjoyment of life) 】
------
hc說明：
La joie de vivre
Henri Matisse, 1905
Huile sur toile, 174 cm x 238
Merion, Fondation Barnes, Pennsylvanie
十幾年前該基金會為籌錢，第一次借東京之西洋美術館展（該館將館藏完全封閉，exclusively 展覽貴賓.......）
Henri Matisse原題為Le Bonheur de vivre（The happiness. of life）。之後，產權所有人Fondation Barnes將其易名。這巨幅畫，在1906展出，可謂「驚世之作」，絕大多數同行和觀眾多受不了.....40年之後，還影響Picasso）。
這之前，La joie de vivre 作為藝術品之主題，尚待查。
*****
老朋友 留言：
rl：信封只寫 "Monseiur Rouveyre, Somewhere in France." 能收到的話，法國郵政可以媲美台灣郵政，若是寄件人的話，就沒什麼了不起了。
以 Andre Rouveyre和 Henri Matisse 或 Pablo Picasso 當時在法國的知名度，信封上寫 "Monseiur Rouveyre, quelque part en France." 或 "Monseiur Picasso, quelque part en France." 應該還收得到。
*****
小讀者 留言：
小讀者純粹亂猜: 也許是因為世人印象中法國其地與joy of life之間可畫上等號, 所以馬蒂斯玩這個文字遊戲? 既住在La Joie de Vivre, 那就一定是法國哪個地方了.
(左拉和畢卡索均以La Joie de Vivre為其作品命名, 這個說法的來源, 不知哪位高人可以指點一下.)
******
老朋友 留言：
在 SU 大學人人平等，每個人貢獻所知，很難找到高人或低人，這也就是此處沒有烏雲罩頂之虞的最大原因之一。
左拉的 La Joie de Vivre 據我所知是他自己寫的傳記，他把作家和作家這個人分開來看待，對自己進行了心理分析，從無意義的人的存在求到一個作家的生命之樂。(簡單說就是降子。要複雜說的話，恐怕要開一堂兩個學期的課了。所以啦，希望這部分的答案還令同學滿意。)
至於畢嘉索的 La Joie de Vivre 則是另外一回事，那是一幅他經過在漫長陰冷的二戰後在法國南方 Antibes 作出的一幅展現生命之樂的抽象畫。底下那個連結大略說明一二。
http://www.popartuk.com/art/pablo-picasso/la-joie-de-vivre-the-joy-to-live-1946-1903-print.asp
61.222.93.178 -- 2005-05-22 13:04:59 --
Homepage： http://www.globalgallery.com/enlarge/030-40141/
***** ---
rl 留言：re: 左拉的 La Joie de Vivre
http://www.evene.fr/livres/fiche.php?id_livre=5564
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/9997521307/103-6028507-5413422?v=glance
左拉(Emile Zola，西元1840～1902）. 簡介：. 左拉，法國小說家。
How Jolly Life Is!/(Variant Title = Zest for Life)
by Emile Zola
為左拉二十部長篇小說《盧貢－馬家爾家族》，Rougon-Macquart series 之一…….
有中文
******
歐巴桑 留言：
la joie de vivre 就表示是生之喜悅
是個藝術家都很喜歡表現的主題
沒什麼特別的啊
大家幹嘛一直緊咬著不放啊?
There is also humor. The fact that Rouveyre lived for some of the time at a boarding house called "La Joie de Vivre" encouraged Matisse to play word games with the address. On one envelope, he simply wrote: "Monseiur Rouveyre, Somewhere in France."
所謂Matisse玩文字的幽默,應該就是指Rouveyre住在"生之喜悅"之中....(那生之喜悅及存在於)法國的某處....
Daddy Issues: Renoir Père and Fils
By Cody Delistraty, The Paris Review, January 10, 2019
The Impressionist painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir rarely spent time with his second son, Jean. Whenever Pierre-Auguste was around the house, he demanded to be called patron—“the boss”—rather than the more typical papa, and Jean grew to view him more as a boarding school headmaster than as a father. As for the actual parenting, that was mostly left to the family’s nanny, Gabrielle Renard. Renard, who was only sixteen when she moved into the Renoirs’ home in Paris, spent years with Jean—taking him to the movies and to puppet shows, playing with toys and strolling the winding streets of Montmartre and the seaside in Cagnes-sur-Mer, where Pierre-Auguste moved the family. Ultimately, Renard became one of the central influences on Jean’s filmmaking career: where his father’s paintings often portrayed their French aristocratic class in an earnest, sentimental light, Jean’s films cut deeper, thanks to the influence of Renard’s critical sensitivity. “She taught me to see the face behind the mask and the fraud behind the flourishes,” Jean wrote at the beginning of his 1974 memoir, My Life and My Films. “She taught me to detest the cliché.”
The strained relationship between Renoir père and fils manifested itself in their art. Pierre-Auguste was most present when he was painting his son. His portrait of a one- or two-year-old Jean from 1895 depicts the boy in gauzy, halcyon strokes as he smiles and coos in Renard’s arms and plays with toy farm animals. Pierre-Auguste painted from behind his easel, watching his son at a remove, as though the childhood of the boy he was painting were already part of the past. Other times, he was strict with how his son acted and looked. He forbade Jean to get a haircut until he was sixteen, forcing him to grow out his reddish hair and dressing him up in the regalia of the bourgeoisie—a pair of equestrian trousers, a bright foulard—for the sake of his paintings.
When he did permit his son a haircut, even that was tied to his art: he wanted to depict Jean as a hunter for his painting Jean comme chasseur (1910), one of the most emotionally loaded paintings the elder Renoir ever crafted. Jean’s noble pose and his hunting outfit were meant as shorthand for his coming of age and his place within a larger artistic and aristocratic lineage. Stylistically, the work is evocative of Peter Paul Rubens and, even more so, Diego Velázquez’s commissioned portraits of young royalty. For Jean, however, this kind of portrait would become, as epitomized in his 1950 satiric film The Rules of the Game, a perfect encapsulation of the aristocracy’s—and his father’s—absurdity and, eventually, their self-inflicted demise.
There is always a good deal of tension within creative families. When calculating the causes for an artist’s creative success, what is the balance between DNA and family affluence and influence? And what are the emotional challenges within the family itself?
History has known many creative families. There are novelists such as the Waughs, the Brontës, the Amises, and the Dumases; musicians like the Marsalises; filmmakers like the Coppolas; painters like the Holbeins and the Brueghels. More rare, however, are families who succeed in separate creative pursuits—like Quincy Jones in music and his daughter Rashida in acting. Creativity, however, is often a wellspring, and children can be encouraged by their artist parents to “be creative” rather than pushed toward a specific medium. Kazuo Ishiguro, for instance, wanted first to become a musician before becoming a novelist. The author John Banville wanted first to become a painter (and his daughter Ellen is a singer). Even Pierre-Auguste first tried his hand at porcelain painting before moving to canvas.
Jean and his father rarely saw eye to eye, and while the son’s films would eventually prove themselves to be more compelling and existentially inquisitive than the paintings of his father, his work drew on their tumultuous relationship. Perhaps all creativity is, in some way, created in the crucible of family tension. Perhaps it comes from the desire to define oneself in opposition to one’s family while also living up to its expectations. Perhaps what we try to escape is invariably what defines us.
At the Musée d’Orsay in Paris—and, earlier, at the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia—an exhibition called “Renoir Father and Son: Painting and Cinema” attempts to divine the secrets of their creative dynamic, although it mostly displays their similarities. It is true that, on the surface, the father’s paintings and the son’s films had numerous connections. Jean shot frequently in the South of France, especially in Cagnes-sur-Mer, and sometimes in Montmartre, where the elder Renoir tended to paint. Jean was also one of the first filmmakers to normalize shooting outdoors, taking after his father, who had been a pioneer of painting en plein air. They shared source material, too: both had a penchant for the novelist Émile Zola. Both were interested in questions of Realism and, in Jean’s case especially, the role of memory.
But the apparent similarities between the two Renoirs can be misleading. Often, what look to be resemblances are actually more devious acts of appropriation. Take, for instance, Andrée Heuschling, whom Pierre-Auguste met while she was a young girl modeling in Nice at the School of Decorative Arts. Heuschling became one of the elder Renoir’s main models, appearing in several of his seminal paintings, such as Les baigneuses (1918–19). He took particular pleasure in her company, especially as he went through a rough patch near the end of his life. His wife, Aline Charigot, had recently passed, World War I had just started, and his health was in steep decline. He nicknamed Heuschling “Dédée,” and she became not only one of his most important models but also, for a time, his central confidante. Jean knew of this intimacy and, just weeks after his father died, he proposed marriage to Heuschling. He gave her the lead role in his film Backbiters, encouraged her to change her name to Catherine Hessling to become a more marketable star, and, ultimately, put her into four more of his films. He made her his muse but also his wife, his partner, his lover. Jean had found a way to give her more than his father could. She had been prominent in Pierre-Auguste’s paintings and kept him company in dire times. Jean, taking her as wife and muse, co-opted his father’s source both of inspiration and of intimacy.
Indeed, Jean took freely from his father—in themes, in source materials, even in the people with whom he was close. But where Renoir père largely celebrated and embraced the leisurely life of the bourgeoisie, Renoir fils questioned, parodied, even disparaged it. Jean’s film A Day in the Country was one of his most finely tuned repudiations of his father’s honey-soaked values. The movie, which was based on the short story of the same name by Guy de Maupassant, depicted a bourgeois Parisian family who spend a day in the countryside, where a pair of boatmen seduce the mother and daughter. Shooting the film in Marlotte—where his father had often painted—and filming mostly at magic hour—so that golden light drenched the lakes and the grass as in many of his father’s paintings—Jean created a movie that borrowed the surface-level aesthetic of his father’s work while perverting its underlying message. At one point in the movie, the daughter looks to her mother and asks, “Did you feel a sort of tenderness toward the grass, the water, the trees?” She says this sincerely, but it comes across as anything but: the supposed aristocratic tenderness toward the natural world had always been a canard to Jean, who saw it as a place in which humans acted on their darker, lustier desires while merely dressing with decorum.
Near the end of his life, Jean became more aware of how much of his self had been constructed in opposition to his father. “I have spent my life trying to determine the extent of the influence of my father upon me,” he wrote. “I did my utmost to escape from it, to dwell upon those when my mind was filled with the precepts I thought I had gleaned from him.” It seemed to slowly dawn on him that to rebel against his father was still to enter into a dialogue with him. To reject something or someone is to give it power—to admit that it merits rejection at all. “If certain landscapes, certain costumes, bring to mind my father’s paintings, it’s for two reasons,” Jean wrote: “First, because it takes place during the period and in a place where my father worked a great deal in his youth; second, it’s because I’m my father’s son.”
He rarely admitted it so explicitly, but Jean had been hurt by his father’s coldness toward him as a child. They got to know each other a little better during World War I, when Jean, who had enlisted in the French army, returned to their home in Montmartre after having been shot in the leg. A picture taken in 1916 by Pierre Bonnard, the painter and a friend of the family, shows Pierre-Auguste, then in his mid-seventies, sitting in a wheelchair, while Jean, looking spry in his early twenties, sits behind him, clad in his military uniform. Pierre-Auguste’s wife had just died (he would die only three years later), and, in this photo, he looks regretful, as though, now left with so little, he mourned the lack of the filial relationship he could have had. Jean, however, looks energized. Even with his injury, he appears keen to move on, to recover and to continue with his life. In the late fifties, many years after his father died, Jean left for the United States, never to return to France. He felt the time had finally come to separate himself once and for all. “For our peace of mind,” Jean wrote, “we must try to escape from the spell of memories. Our salvation lies in plunging resolutely into the hell of the new world.”
Of course, the irony for the Renoirs—as for all parents and children—is that Pierre-Auguste, who watched his son grow up from behind his canvas, was able to define Jean, while Jean could only respond and react. No matter how much Jean rejected him, Pierre-Auguste had the upper hand: he had been there first. No matter how wrong he might have been, his ideas were the originals; Jean’s, even in opposition, were inevitably derivations. “We are in a period of searchers,” the elder Renoir once said, “rather than of creators.” The past always has the advantage.
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