Scrolls

Jack Kerouac, "manuscrito" (120 pés de comprimento) de On the Road

Hans Namuth, Pollock Painting, 1950, fotografia (gelatina e prata), National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, D.C. Publicada na "Life", em 1951





Hans Namuth e Paul Falkenberg, Jackson Pollock, 1951 ( excerto , em loop; som não síncrono)




Jack Kerouac, "manuscrito" de On the Road (excerto inicial)

Steve Ditko, Amazing Spider-Man, 34, pág. 7

Dentro de uma hora, Dean e eu chegávamos ao novo apartamento da minha tia em Long Island, e ela achava-se em complicadas negociações com uns pintores que eram amigos da família, discutindo o preço, enquanto nós subíamos as escadas vindos de São Francisco.
- Sal, o Dean pode cá ficar alguns dias e depois tem de ir-se embora, compreendes? - preveniu-me a minha tia.
Terminara a viagem. À noite, Dean e eu fomos dar um passeio por entre os gasómetros e pontes férreas e luzes de nevoeiro de Long Island. Lembro-me dele debaixo de um candeeiro de rua.
- Quando passámos pelo outro candeeiro eu ia dizer-te mais uma coisa, Sal, mas agora vou continuar entre parêntesis com um novo raciocínio e, quando passarmos ao seguinte, eu regresso ao assunto original, concordas?
Certamente que concordava. Estávamos tão habituados a viajar que tínhamos de andar por toda Long Island, mas não havia mais terra, só o oceano Atlântico, e era esse o nosso limite. Demos as mãos e concordámos que seríamos amigos para sempre.

Jack Kerouac, Pela Estrada Fora, Lisboa, Relógio d'Água, 1999, pág. 323

Road movie #1

Victor Fleming, The Wizard of Oz (1939) - Bert Lahr, Jack Haley, Ray Bolger, Judy Garland

Uma viagem de autoconhecimento, sob o efeito alucinatório de um tornado. O regresso a casa da tia Em é definitivo ("And I'm not going to leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all!"): a viagem é só um episódio.

PROJECTO On the Road. Remembering Kerouac. http://rememberingjackkerouac.blogspot.com/

CONCEITO O passado dia 5 de Setembro marcou 50 anos desde que foi publicado On the Road, o mais famoso livro de Jack Kerouac. A efeméride juntou 13 artistas portugueses que apresentam uma exposição conjunta. A proposta dos artistas percorre várias disciplinas do desenho à fotografia, do video ao som, com cada artista a propor uma leitura sobre o livro, o universo de Kerouac e/ou de toda a beat generation, deixando em aberto possíveis leituras para outras zonas da criação.

ACTIVIDADES PARALELAS - Ciclo de cinema na Cinemateca : "Road Movie" de 5 a 30 de Novembro - Leituras de textos da Beat Generation no Espaço da exposição: data a confirmar- Concerto de encerramento a 1 de Dezembro com Tó Trips (Dead Combo, ex-Lulu Blind)

LOCAIS Avenida da Liberdade, n.º 211, 2º Andar, em Lisboa. (EXPOSIÇÃO) Rua Barata Salgueiro, nº 39. (CINEMATECA)

DATA Inauguração: 9 de Novembro. Encerramento: 1 de Dezembro.

HORÁRIO De quarta a sexta das 17h às 20h, Sábado das 15h às 20h.

ARTISTAS PARTICIPANTES
André Almeida e Sousa
Nasceu em S.Miguel em 1974. Vive em Lisboa. Concluiu o curso completo de Pintura no Arco onde é Professor. Expõe individualmente desde 2000 em Lisboa, Braga e São Miguel, Açores. Prémio Artca em 2006. A sua obra está representada entre outras nas colecções do Arco e do Museu Carlos Machado, em São Miguel.

Bruno Sequeira
Lisboa, 1966. Curso Avançado de Fotografia Maumaus entre 93-95. Bolseiro da Fundação Oriente em 97. Entre 1994 e 2005 foi professor de fotografia na Escolas: Maumaus, António Arroio e Ar.Co, em 2006 fundou o Atelier deLisboa. Expõe individualmente desde 96. Presente nas colecções PLMJ, Museu da Imagem e CPF entre outras.

Eduardo Salavisa.
Nasceu em Lisboa onde vive e trabalha. Licenciou-se em 1980 em Design de Equipamento na Escola de Belas Artes de Lisboa. As suas pinturas e desenhos foram expostos em diversas ocasiões. Desde há algum tempo que vem desenvolvendo o seu projecto pessoal Diários Gráficos. É ainda professor no ensino secundário na Escola Secundária Pedro Nunes, em Lisboa.

João Grama
Lisboa, 1975. Frequenta o último ano do curso avançado de Fotografia do Arco. Fotografa e escreve regularmente para a imprensa, destacando as colaborações actuais com o Expresso, Publico e com o extinto suplemento DNA.

João Paulo Serafim
Paris, 1974. Vive em Lisboa. Estudou Artes Plásticas no Arco, tendo igualmente aí completado o plano de estudos de fotografia. Em 2005 participou na Master Class do programa Gulbenkian Criatividade e Criação Artística. Expõe regularmente desde 1998. A sua obra está representada nas colecções do BES, do CAM, do Banco Privado entre outras.

José António Leitão
Luanda, 1962. Vive e trabalha em Parede. Mestre em História da Arte (F.C.S.H.-U.N.L., 1990). Professor do Departamento de História e Teoria da Arte do Ar.Co-Centro de Arte e Comunicação Visual, desde 1992. Leccionou História da Arte nos Maumaus-Centro de Contaminação Visual (1995-96) e no Museu Nacional do Azulejo (1998-99). Publicou diversos textos sobre Lisboa, em periódicos e obras colectivas.

José Pedro Cortes
Porto, 1976. Vive e trabalha em Lisboa. Frequentou o Ar.co, realizou o Master of Arts Photography no Kent Institut of Art & Design (UK) e Master Class do Programa Gulbenkian de Criatividade e Criação Artística. Exposições individuais no Museu da Imagem, Centro Português de Fotografia, White Space Gallery (Londres) e muito recentemente em Lisboa, na Jorge Shirley. Em 2006 publicou o seu primeiro livro "Silence" pela Pierre Von Kleist Editions.

Manuel Duarte
Nasceu em Lisboa em 1971. Frequentou o Curso intensivo de Fotografia na ETIC e no IADE, tendo sido um dos participantes na Master Class do programa Gulbenkian Criatividade e Criação Artística.

Margarida Gouveia
Torres Vedras, 1977. Iniciou a sua formação artística na Academia de Artes Visuais de Macau. Em 2000 licenciou-se em Design Visual pelo Instituto de Arte e Design em Lisboa e entrou para o Curso Básico de Fotografia no Ar.Co.. Como bolseira da Kodak, frequentou o curso Avançado que concluiu em 2004. Foi bolseira da Fundação Oriente em 2003.

Mariana Viegas
Lisboa 1969. Estudos de Fotografia e Artes Plásticas no Ar.Co em Lisboa. Em 2005/06 foi bolseira da Fundação Gulbenkian e da Fundação Luso-Americana para o Desenvolvimento no Location One, em Nova Iorque. Participou em diversas exposições em Portugal, Paris e Nova Iorque. A sua última exposição individual, Fuga, foi apresentada recentemente na Agencia de Arte Vera Cortes em Lisboa.

Martim Dias Ramos
Lisboa, 1983. Frequentou o curso básico de Fotografia no Arco. Estagiou no Jornal Público em 2006. Desde Janeiro de 2007 é fotógrafo freelance do colectivo Kameraphoto.

Paulo Brighenti
Lisboa, 1968. Frequentou o curso de Pintura e de Artes Plásticas do Arco, onde é professor. Realizou variadíssimas exposições individuais e colectivas em Lisboa, Porto e Londres. A sua obra está presente nas colecções da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, Arpad-Szenes, Museu do Chiado, entre outras. Em 2002 recebeu o prémio revelação da Fundação Arpad-Szenes.

Paulo Pascoal
Lisboa, 1969. Participou em várias exposições colectivas, como na Colecção da FLAD, na Fundação de Serralves, e realizou ainda várias exposições individuais. Foi o vencedor da V Bienal de Fotografia de Vila Franca de Xira. Em 2003 participou da Exposição "Sem Limites" na CAV em Coimbra. As suas obras fazem parte das colecções da Ar.Co, Lisboa, da Câmara Municipal de Vila Franca de Xira, da FLAD e da PLMJ - Sociedade de Advogados em Lisboa.

chicagotribune.com
BOOK TOUR
Revisiting sites from 'On the Road'
50 years later, could Sal and Dean find their haunts?
By Christopher Reynolds
Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

Jack Kerouac slept where?Fifty years ago, the Beat Generation
writer's novel, "On the Road," hit bookstores, its story told in
breathless, jazz-inflected cadences, its plot lifted from the author's
life. The plot follows two friends and their assorted pals on four
cross-country road trips, their adventures packed with enough fast
chatter to make Aaron Sorkin's head spin, enough drink and drugs
and casual sex to satisfy a platoon of rock stars, enough discovery and
enthusiasm and motion and exclamation points and careening overloaded
sentences to give any reader a pang of wanderlust.But have you looked at
those pages lately? If you do and you're over 30, Sal Paradise and Dean
Moriarty (Kerouac's names for himself and his mercurial friend Neal Cassady)
may seem more desperate and doomed than you remember. And the North
America they're exploring may seem far away indeed. (For details, consult
the blog, littourature.blogspot.com.)As you check this 21st-century charting
of Sal's travels, remember that it was 1948 and 1949 when Kerouac and
Cassady made the trips that dominate "On the Road," 1951 when Kerouac
wrote the bulk of the book and 1957 when Viking published it. Cassady died
at 41 in 1968, Kerouac at 47 in 1969. In both deaths, alcohol was implicated.
As for the road then and the road now:• In 1957, Greyhound ruled the roads,
and the interstate highway system was in its infancy. There were 40 McDonald's
restaurants, fewer than 75 Holiday Inns, and there was one San Francisco bookshop
called City Lights, run by poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti.Now, Greyhound and its
parent company have been through bankruptcy twice in the last 20 years.
The interstate highway system has grown to more than 45,000 miles, allowing
for faster trips and less local color. There are more than 30,000 McDonald's
locations and 1,384 Holiday Inns worldwide. There's still one City Lights, now
54 years old, on Columbus Avenue, still run by Ferlinghetti.• In the book,
Moriarty takes a girlfriend to Hector's, a cafeteria near 50th Street in
Manhattan's Times Square, for "beautiful big glazed cakes and cream puffs,"
and Paradise adds that Hector's "has always been a big symbol of New York
for Dean." Later, Sal and Dean dig the jazz at Birdland, a club on Broadway
near 52nd Street. Later still, Sal and Dean eat franks and beans in a Riker's
coffee shop on Seventh Avenue.Now, Hector's is no more. Birdland closed in
1965 (although another club with that name does business now on West 44th
Street). Riker's is gone, too. (But the company behind that chain, Restaurant
Associates Corp., has endured and evolved.)• In the book, Sal Paradise takes
a bus to Chicago and gets a room at the Y.Now, the Chicago YMCA doesn't
accept short-term overnight guests and hasn't for at least a decade, a
spokeswoman says. The YMCA's Lawson House, which goes back to 1931
in central Chicago, houses about 600 residents, most of them working poor,
formerly homeless and the mentally ill, who pay $375 a month and up.• In
the book, Sal reaches Cheyenne, Wyo., during Wild West Week, is appalled by
the sight of fat businessmen in boots and 10-gallon hats, their wives outfitted
as cowgirls. "In my first shot at the West I was seeing to what absurd devices
it had fallen to keep its proud tradition," he says. He winds up sleeping in the
bus station.Now, Cheyenne still throws its annual party. But for 111 years it
has been called Frontier Days. This year's bill in July included a rodeo, art and
air shows, pancake breakfasts, a carnival and concerts by Bon Jovi and Reba
McEntire. The old bus station has been leveled, and the old train depot next
door is a museum.• In the book, Sal stays with friends in Denver, decides not
to take a job hauling produce at the Camargo market and gets cornered into
attending an opera (Beethoven's "Fidelio") in nearby Central City. The rest
of the time, he knocks around bars and pool halls on Larimer Street and Lower
Downtown, including the Windsor Hotel, "once Denver's great Gold Rush hotel,"
says Sal; it's said to have historic bullet holes in the walls.Now, Larimer and LoDo
have been renovated. The Denargo Market, a 29-acre area north of downtown, has
been proposed for redevelopment. In Central City, the 1878 opera house is up to four productions every summer. The Windsor was leveled in 1959. Meanwhile, a Denver
developer has put up Jack Kerouac Lofts (60 units on Huron Street near Union
Station, most priced at $300,000 to $400,000).• In the book, Sal and his Bay
Area friend, Remi, spend an outlandish $50 on a disastrous dinner for five at
"a swank restaurant" called Alfred's in San Francisco's North Beach. Now, Alfred's
has moved a few blocks from Broadway to 659 Merchant St. A 30-ounce
porterhouse costs $40.• In the book, Sausalito is a "little fishing village." Now, just
try to find a room on a Saturday night for less than $150.• In the book, • Sal and
his girlfriend, Terry, meet on the way to Los Angeles and eat "in a cafeteria downtown
which was decorated to look like a grotto, with metal tits spurting everywhere and
great impersonal stone buttockses belonging to deities and soapy Neptune. People
ate lugubrious meals around the waterfalls, their faces green with marine sorrow.
"Now, one Clifton's Cafeteria remains, the Brookdale at 648 S. Broadway, and it did
have a 20-foot waterfall, along with a faux redwood forest and chapel that are still there. But Sal was probably talking about another Clifton's -- the late, lamented Pacific Seas at 618 S. Olive St., which had 12 waterfalls and all manner of Polynesian flourishes. It closed in June 1960.• In the book, Sal and Dean wander Mexico City "in a frenzy and a dream. We ate beautiful steaks for forty-eight cents in a strange tiled Mexican cafeteria with generations of marimba musicians."Sal never mentions a name for that eatery, but it sounds a lot like Sanborns' La Casa de los Azulejos, a city landmark (and cafeteria and department store) that dates to the 16th century. Famed for its tile work and murals, the building has included a restaurant since about 1919.• In 1957, "On the Road" (hardcover edition, $3.95) was released in the first week of September to a rapturous review from The New York Times. That same week, Ford rolled out the Edsel, priced at about $2,500 and up. No rapture.Now, Kerouac's original 120-foot-long typescript scroll for the book is on tour, having sold at auction in 2001 for $2.4 million. Lately, rare-book dealers have been offering first-edition copies of "On the Road" for as much as $8,000. You sometimes can buy an Edsel for less.

Op-Ed Columnist
Sal Paradise at 50
'Over the past few weeks critics have taken another look at Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road,” and this time their descriptions of it are very different.

By DAVID BROOKS
Published: October 2, 2007
A few decades ago, before TV commercials became obsessively concerned with prostate problems, Jack Kerouac wrote a book called “On the Road.” It was greeted rapturously by many as a burst of rollicking, joyous American energy. People quoted the famous lines: “The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn.”

In the Times review that launched the book, Gilbert Millstein raved that “On the Road” was a frenzied search for affirmation, a book that rejected the ennui, pessimism and cynicism of the Lost Generation. The heroes of the book savored everything, enjoyed everything, took pleasure in everything.
But, of course, all this was before the great geriatric pall settled over the world, before it became illegal to be cheerful.

“On the Road” turned 50 last month, and over the past few weeks a line of critics have taken another look at the book, and this time their descriptions of it, whether they like it or not, are very different.

“Above all else, the story is about loss,” George Mouratidis, one of the editors of a new edition, told The Age in Melbourne.

“It’s a book about death and the search for something meaningful to hold on to — the famous search for ‘IT,’ a truth larger than the self, which, of course, is never found,” wrote Meghan O’Rourke in Slate.

“Kerouac was this deep, lonely, melancholy man,” Hilary Holladay of the University of Massachusetts told The Philadelphia Inquirer. ”And if you read the book closely, you see that sense of loss and sorrow swelling on every page.”

“In truth, ‘On the Road’ is a book of broken dreams and failed plans,” wrote Ted Gioia in The Weekly Standard.

In Book Forum, David Ulin noted that “even the most frantic of Kerouac’s writings were really the sagas of a solitary seeker: poor, sad Jack, adrift in a world without mercy when he’d rather be ‘safe in Heaven dead.’ ”

According to these and other essays, “On the Road” is the book you want to read if you find Sylvia Plath too upbeat.

And of course they’re not wrong. There was a traditionalist, darker side to Kerouac, as John Leland emphasizes in his book “Why Kerouac Matters: The Lessons of On the Road (They’re Not What You Think).”

But reading through the anniversary commemorations, you feel the gravitational pull of the great Boomer Narcissus. All cultural artifacts have to be interpreted through whatever experiences the Baby Boomer generation is going through at that moment.

So a book formerly known for its youthful exuberance now becomes a book of gloomy middle-aged disillusion. (In 20 years, “The Cat in the Hat” will be read as a commentary on unreliable home health care workers.)

And there’s something else going on, something to do with the great taming professionalism of American culture. “On the Road” has been semi-incorporated into modern culture, but only parts have survived.

Students are taught “On the Road” in class, then must write tightly organized, double-spaced term papers on it, and if they don’t get an A, it hurts their admissions prospects. The book is still talked about, but often by professional intellectuals in panel discussions and career-building journal articles.

The effect is that some of the book comes through fine — the longing, the nostalgia for home, the darker pessimism.

But the real secret of the book was its discharge of youthful energy, the stupid, reckless energy that saves “On the Road” from being a dreadful novel. The delightful, moronic, unreflective fizz appears whenever the characters are happiest, when they are chasing girls or urinating from a swerving flatbed truck while going 70 miles an hour.

Those parts haven’t survived. They run afoul of the new gentility, the rules laid down by the health experts, childcare experts, guidance counselors, safety advisers, admissions officers, virtuecrats and employers to regulate the lives of the young. They seem dangerous, childish and embarrassing in the world of professionalized adolescence and professionalized intellect.

If Sal Paradise were alive today, he’d be a product of the new rules. He’d be a grad student with an interest in power yoga, on the road to the M.L.A. convention with a documentary about a politically engaged Manitoban dance troupe that he hopes will win a MacArthur grant. He’d be driving a Prius, going a conscientious 55, wearing a seat belt and calling Mom from the Comfort Inns.

The only thing we know for sure is that this ethos won’t last. Someday some hypermanic kid will produce a moronically maxed-out adventure odyssey that will spark the overdue rebellion among all the over-pressured SAT grinds, and us grumpy midlife critics will get to witness a new Kerouac, and the greatest pent-up young-life crisis in the history of the world.