Édition limitée à 950 exemplaires 408 pages – Relié
327 illustrations couleur : dessins, peintures, documents, photographies et lettres
Format 21 x 27,5 cm
Textes de :
Patrick Dubuis, Jean-Loup Salètes, Jean-Marc Barféty, Alexandre de Villiers et Nicole Canet.
Éditions Galerie Au Bonheur du Jour ISBN : 979-10-93837-00-0
Ces cinq grands écrivains ont parfois fréquenté les mêmes endroits et les mêmes personnes, aimé le même type de partenaires.
AvecMarcel Proust, nous fréquenterons les salons, mais aussi les maisons de prostitution masculine de la Belle Époque.
Pierre Loti, épris de voyages lointains, nous entraînera à sa suite vers un Orient mythique où fleurissent des amours insolites.
Renaud Icard, coincé entre sa vie conjugale et son goût pour les garçons, tentera de démêler pour nous les racines de sa folle passion.
Avec son habituel panache, Roger Peyrefitte évoquera ses « amitiés particulières », qui lui ont valu tant d’admirateurs et de détracteurs.
Quant à Jean Genet, il esquissera sans ambiguïté les amours viriles entre des garçons pas si mauvais que cela.
L’importante iconographie de cet ouvrage contribue largement à situer ces cinq écrivains dans leurs univers respectifs, permettant ainsi de mieux les approcher dans leur véritable intimité, au plus près de ce qu’ils ont été et de ce que la société bien-pensante a trop souvent cherché à occulter.
Nicole Canet - Galerie Au Bonheur du Jour
1 rue Chabanais 75002 Paris
Tel. 01 42 96 58 64
Du mardi au samedi de 14H30 à 19H30 Email : email@example.com Site : www.aubonheurdujour.net
Friday, April 21, 2017
Friday, January 6, 2017
My dear Pasqualino,
You are, as you know, my favorite ephebe among all the Taormina lads who surrounded Wilhelm von Gloeden, at the beginning of the XXth century...
When I visited Taormina, in the '80s of the XXth century, you were still alive... You were an old man, and perhaps I met you in the streets of Taormina, or at a trattoria or a bar, drinking a cappucino or a grappa... You were during most of your life a gardener, and if I am well informed, you were the gardener of the San Domenico Hotel, which was previously a monastery with an infamous cloister, where Gloeden shot so many pics of nude boys....
I have many portraits of you, in your blossoming years, and I always loved your so expressive face, with those great eyes, this curly brune hair...
You were, and you still are, the ideal ephebe of Greek poets and philosophers, and I am sure Theocritus or Euripides, Socrates or Plato would have noticed you... I am sure they would have written erotic epigrams about you... Such a cute teen boy would have inspired Strato while writing the poems of his Mousa Paidiké...
We are already in 2017, January the 6th... You are now dust and ashes in the cemetery of Taormina, and next time I will travel to Sicily, I will visit you and offer you flowers from the Taormina's mountains...
I will also drink a glass of Sicilian red wine, and I will pour a few drops on your grave, while reciting a few verses from Euripides' Bacchae...
Don't worry, my dear Pasqualino... There is someone who remembers the blossoming boy you were...
There is someone who is still in love with you....
I love you, Pasqualino....
Posted by Butterfly at 10:48 AM
Thursday, December 1, 2016
"I die of love for him, perfect in every way,
Lost in the strains of wafting music.
My eyes are fixed upon his delightful body
And I do not wonder at his beauty.
His waist is a sapling, his face a moon,
And loveliness rolls off his rosy cheek
I die of love for you, but keep this secret:
The tie that binds us is an unbreakable rope.
How much time did your creation take, O angel?
So what! All I want is to sing your praises."
Abu Nuwas (757-815)
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
The shepherd Corydon with love was fired
For fair Alexis, his own master's joy:
No room for hope had he, yet, none the less,
The thick-leaved shadowy-soaring beech-tree grove
Still would he haunt, and there alone, as thus,
To woods and hills pour forth his artless strains.
"Cruel Alexis, heed you naught my songs?
Have you no pity? you'll drive me to my death.
Now even the cattle court the cooling shade
And the green lizard hides him in the thorn:
Now for tired mowers, with the fierce heat spent,
Pounds Thestilis her mess of savoury herbs,
Wild thyme and garlic. I, with none beside,
Save hoarse cicalas shrilling through the brake,
Still track your footprints 'neath the broiling sun.
Better have borne the petulant proud disdain
Of Amaryllis, or Menalcas wooed,
Albeit he was so dark, and you so fair!
Trust not too much to colour, beauteous boy;
White privets fall, dark hyacinths are culled.
You scorn me, Alexis, who or what I am
Care not to ask- how rich in flocks, or how
In snow-white milk abounding: yet for me
Roam on Sicilian hills a thousand lambs;
Summer or winter, still my milk-pails brim.
I sing as erst Amphion of Circe sang,
What time he went to call his cattle home
On Attic Aracynthus. Nor am I
So ill to look on: lately on the beach
I saw myself, when winds had stilled the sea,
And, if that mirror lie not, would not fear
Daphnis to challenge, though yourself were judge.
Ah! were you but content with me to dwell.
Some lowly cot in the rough fields our home,
Shoot down the stags, or with green osier-wand
Round up the straggling flock! There you with me
In silvan strains will learn to rival Pan.
Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;
For sheep alike and shepherd Pan hath care.
Nor with the reed's edge fear you to make rough
Your dainty lip; such arts as these to learn
What did Amyntas do?- what did he not?
A pipe have I, of hemlock-stalks compact
In lessening lengths, Damoetas' dying-gift:
'Mine once,' quoth he, 'now yours, as heir to own.'
Foolish Amyntas heard and envied me.
Ay, and two fawns, I risked my neck to find
In a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still,
From a sheep's udders suckled twice a day-
These still I keep for you; which Thestilis
Implores me oft to let her lead away;
And she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn.
Come hither, beauteous boy; for you the Nymphs
Bring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed; for you,
Plucking pale violets and poppy-heads,
Now the fair Naiad, of narcissus flower
And fragrant fennel, doth one posy twine-
With cassia then, and other scented herbs,
Blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off
With yellow marigold. I too will pick
Quinces all silvered-o'er with hoary down,
Chestnuts, which Amaryllis wont to love,
And waxen plums withal: this fruit no less
Shall have its meed of honour; and I will pluck
You too, ye laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near,
For so your sweets ye mingle. Corydon,
You are a boor, nor heeds a whit your gifts
Alexis; no, nor would Iollas yield,
Should gifts decide the day. Alack! alack!
What misery have I brought upon my head!-
Loosed on the flowers Siroces to my bane,
And the wild boar upon my crystal springs!
Whom do you fly, infatuate? gods ere now,
And Dardan Paris, have made the woods their home.
Let Pallas keep the towers her hand hath built,
Us before all things let the woods delight.
The grim-eyed lioness pursues the wolf,
The wolf the she-goat, the she-goat herself
In wanton sport the flowering cytisus,
And Corydon Alexis, each led on
By their own longing. See, the ox comes home
With plough up-tilted, and the shadows grow
To twice their length with the departing sun,
Yet me love burns, for who can limit love?
Ah! Corydon, Corydon, what hath crazed your wit?
Your vine half-pruned hangs on the leafy elm;
Why haste you not to weave what need requires
Of pliant rush or osier? Scorned by this,
Elsewhere some new Alexis you will find."
Virgil, Eclogue, 2.
ca 37 BC
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
I have never seen this Von Gloeden's photograph before...
As far as I know, it was never published in any modern book devoted to von Gloeden...
This photograph was used as a postcard around 1910.
Yes, around 1910, it was possible to send such a postcard through European posts networks...
Would it be possible today ?
I guess not...
This is for me like a quintessence of von Gloeden's visual, artistic, imaginary, sensitive universe...
It is an Arcadian dream... Boys singing and dancing, celebrating a Greek god... Apollo ? Or Dionysius ? I guess Dionysius...
There is such a lovely mood in this scene...
This scene takes place in the wilderness, above Taormina's village... Nobody else than von Gloeden was looking at these naked boys dancing together, or listening to the music of the young flute player...
Most of these boys were young peasants, shepherds, fisher men, perhaps some of them were repairing cars in a garage...
I wonder how von Gloeden was able to deal with their laughs, with their jokes, with their unruly behaviour...
Or perhaps these boys were totally focussed on the scene they were supposed to play...
"Listen to me, ragazzi... You are now the kaloi paides, the kala meirakia, the formosi pueri of Callimachus, Theocritus and Vergil... Apollo and Dionysius are watching you ! Eros is watching you too ! So, no bad jokes, play it nice, please ! Sing and dance, and freeze when I make a photoshot ! Grazie mille, ragazzi !"
This great postcard is now part of my personal collection....
By the way, should I relaunch "Rêves Siciliens" blog ?
It seems I did...
Posted by Butterfly at 12:03 PM
Monday, September 22, 2014
Galerie Au Bonheur du Jour
11 rue Chabanais
Le photographe Rudolf Lehnert et son associé Ernst Landrock s’installent en 1904 à Tunis. La formation de Lehnert à l’Institut des Arts Graphiques de Vienne, nous fait découvrir des photographies dont la composition est proche de la peinture, empreintes de pureté et de poésie.
Cette exposition-vente présente une centaine de clichés :
Scènes de la vie quotidienne, portraits, dunes, oasis, les mythiques images de nus féminins et quelques nus de garçons très rares.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
This magnificent albumen photograph was shot in Pompéi by Wilhelm von Plüschow ca 1890.
I think this photograph belongs to a series shot in the Casa dei Vettii.
If I am not mistaken, the model is Pasqualino.
Von Plûschow built up this scene in a very artistic and pictorial way, playing with the light and the shade, with the colors contrast, and with the vertical and horizontal lines.
The homoerotic overtones are mixed with a subtle melancholia, like a meditation about fate and the feeting time, and indeed about Pompéi's destruction in 79 AD.
This is really a masterpiece...
Creative Commons Licence.
This image can be reposted with the link to my blog
No commercial use
Saturday, August 30, 2014
I would like to share with you some of my recent findings: Wilhelm von Plüschow's vintage photographs, shot in Athens, Pompei and I guess Napoli. I think the photograph above was shot in Napoli... Could someone please confirm ?
The authentic vintage photographs I will post during the few next days are parts of a vintage album that was recently dismantled by a German dealer.
My friend Nicole Canet (Au bonheur du Jour) bought some photographs from this album. I bought other ones from it.
Unfortunately, I don't know who was the owner of the original album, that is who bought these photographs from Plüschow himself... I just can guess he was a German man, it would have been interesting to know more about his life...
The photograph below was shot in the Dionysius Theater, down below Athens Acropolis. I don't know if von Plüschow visited Athens with his favorite Italian models (boy friends ?) or if these boys are Greek young men...
Perhaps someone among my erudite reader will clear up this point...
A last thing: you are free to download and repost these pics.
I bought them, they are parts of my personal collection, but I want to share them with you...
So I post them with a Creative Commons Licence
This license allows you to remix, tweak, and build upon these pics non-commercially, and any use of them must acknowledge "Rêves siciliens" and be non-commercial.