Un cheval/des chevaux

These archaic horses are so perfectly satisfying as horses: so that one asks oneself, what, after all, is the horsiness of a horse? What is it that man sees, when he looks at a horse?--what is it that will never be put into words? For a man who sees, sees not as a camera does when it takes a snapshot, not even as a cinema-camera, taking its succession of instantaneous snaps; but in a curious rolling flood of vision, in which the image itself seethes and rolls; and only the mind picks out certain factors which shall represent the image seen. We have made up our minds to see things as they are: which is camera vision. But the camera can neither feel the heat of the horse, his strange body; nor smell his horsiness; nor hear him neigh. Whereas the eye, seeing him, wakes all our other sensual experience of him: not to speak of our terror of his frenzy, and admiration of his strength. The eye really "sees" all this. It is the complete vision of a child, full and potent. But this potent vision in us is maimed and pruned as we grow up, till as adults we see only one dreary bit of the horse, his static external form.

Sketches of Etruscan places de D.H. Lawrence

(Si seulement j’avais lu cela avant d’aller à l’expo Muybridge la semaine dernière...)

Londres aujourd’hui est ensoleillée et ça change tout.Comment en profiter?En se promenant en forêt. En pataugeant dans ses sentiers détrempés

En humant les parfums d’automneIl y aura peut-être des chevaux qui se dégourdissent les sabots

Et des corbeaux dans les arbres.

Je vais voir tout ça aujourd’hui (et n’en déplaise à David Herbert, je vais le photographier aussi !)