Shirin Neshat - Artist as Activist

Shirin Neshat: The Un-Private Collection: Artist as Activist from ALOUDla on Vimeo.

موهبت عدم شناخت

اگر چیزی در زندگی وجود داشته باشد – جدا از خود زندگی - که باید بخاطرش خدایان را شکرگزار باشیم که آن را به ما ارزانی داشته اند، آن چیز همانا موهبت عدم شناخت است: ما نه خود را می شناسیم و نه دیگری را. روح ما قهقرایی تاریک و لزج است، چاهی سیاه بر سطح بیرونی جهان که هیچگاه کسی نمی تواند چیزی از درون آن بیرون بکشد. هیچکس خود را دوست نمی داشت اگر به تمامی خود را می شناخت، چرا که تنها خودپسندی حاصل از عدم شناخت از خود است که خون به رگان زندگی معنوی ما می رساند و نمی گذارد که روح به مرض کم خونی بمیرد. هیچکس از ما دیگری را نمی شناسد، و چه خوب که نمی شناسد، اگر می شناخت آنگاه نه تنها در وجود دیگری بلکه در وجود مادر، همسر و فرزند نیز آن دشمن خونی متافزیکی خود را بازمی یافت.

ما یکدیگر را می فهمیم چون هیچ چیز ازیکدیگر نمی دانیم. این همه زوج خوشبخت چه میشدند اگر می توانستند در روح یکدیگر نگاه کنند، اگر می توانستند آنطور که رمانتیک ها می گویند همدیگر را درک کنند، بی آنکه متوجه خطری باشند که از کلامشان برمیخزد، حتا اگر این خطر آنقدرها هم بزرگ نباشد؟ هیچ زوجی وجود ندارد که براستی خوشبخت باشد، چرا که هر یک از این دو در نهانخانۀ ضمیرش، آنجایی که روح به شیطان تعلق دارد، یا تصویر صیقل یافته و آرمانی مردی را حمل میکند که با تصویر زمخت شوهرش همخوانی ندارد، یا پیکر مبهم زنی آرمانی را که با پیکر آشکار زنش قابل انطباق نیست. خوشبخت ترین انسانها آن کسانی هستند که به تمایلات ارضا نشدۀ خود آگاهی ندارند، و بدبخت ترین انسانها آنانی که آگاهی دارند ولی نمی خواهند اعتراف کنند که بدبختند، تنها گاهی اوقات یک طغیان ضمنی یا یک خشونت آنی، آن هم به شکلی سطحی و به واسطۀ کلمات و حرکات آن اهریمن پنهان را بیدار می کند، آن حوّای باستانی را، آن جوانمرد سلحشور را و آن رقاصۀ پری وش را.

زندگی ما یک سوء تفاهم سیال است، نقطه ایست شاد و مسرور در مرکز دایره ای که حد فاصلی میسازد میان عظمتی که وجود ندارد و خوشبختیی که نمیتواند وجود داشته باشد. و رضایت داریم چون میتوانیم علی رغم اندیشه و دریافت هایمان به وجود روح معتقد نباشیم. در مجلس رقص بالماسکه ای که زندگی ماست نقابهای دلپسند برای ما کافی ست چون در چنین مجلسی تنها نقاب است که به حساب می آید. ما بردگان نوریم و بردگان رنگ، همانطور در رقص گام برمیداریم که در واقعیت، و حتا برای یک لحظه نیز سرمای یخین شب بیرون را احساس نمی کنیم - مگر آنکه در گوشه ای تنها بایستیم و در رقص شرکت نکنیم – سرمای یخین بدنی میرا و پوشیده در تنپوشهای ژنده ای که پس از مرگ تن نیز به حیات خود ادامه می دهند، سرمای یخین همۀ آنچیزی که گمان داریم خود ما هستیم، اما در واقع هیچ نیست بجز تقلید مسخره آمیز آنکسی که در درون خود او را آن من حقیقی می پنداریم.

همۀ آنچه که می گوییم و انجام می دهیم، همۀ آنچه که می اندیشیم و احساس می کنیم، همگی یک نقاب واحد به چهره و یک لباس بالماسکۀ واحد به تن دارد. هرقدر هم که بخواهیم لباسی را که پوشیده ایم از تن دورکنیم باز هم هیچگاه به عریانی نخواهیم رسید، چرا که عریانی پدیده ایست روحی و به لباس درآوردن ربطی ندارد. و اینچنین است که ملبس به روح و جسم و پوشیده در لباسهای رنگارنگ بالماسکه، که همانطور به بدن هامان چسبیده که پر به تن پرنده، شاد یا ناشاد، یا بدون آنکه بدانیم چگونه، مانند کودکانی که بازی های جدی می کنند این مهلت کوتاهی را که خدایان به منظور سرگرم شدن خویش به ما ارزانی داشته اند تا به آخر زندگی می کنیم.

و یکی از ما، و او نیز به ندرت، در یک لحظۀ رهایی، یا زیر بار نفرینی که بر دوش دارد، ناگهان چشم بازمی کند و می بیند که همۀ آنچه که ما هستیم ما نیستیم، که آنچیزی که به آن یقین داریم فریبی و آنچیزی که حقیقتش می پنداریم دروغی بیش نیست. فرد مورد نظر چون در یک لحظۀ کوتاه کل کیهان را برهنه می بیند یا فلسفه ای بنیان می نهد یا مذهبی در خیال می پروراند. فلسفه اش همه جا منتشر میشود و مذهبش پیروانی پیدا می کند: کسی که به فلسفه اش اعتقاد دارد آن را مانند تنپوشی نامرئی به تن می کند و کسی که به مذهبش ایمان می آورد آن را مانند نقابی که به زودی فراموشش می کند به چهره می زند.

و مایی که نه خود را می شناسیم و نه دیگری را با خشنودی یکدیگر را می فهمیم و همچنان رقص کنان چرخ می زنیم و در ساعات تنفس همانطور که جدی و انسانی و عبث به موسیقی سترگ ستاره ای گوش می دهیم، با یکدیگر خوش و بش می کنیم، در حالی که نگاه های موهن و تحقیرآمیز برگزارکنندگان این نمایش از دور به ما خیره شده اند. تنها آنانند که می دانند که ما زندانیان توهمات خویش هستیم، توهماتی که آنان خود برایمان آفریده اند. ولی اینکه دلیل این توهمات چیست و چرا باید این یا آن تصور موهوم وجود داشته باشد، و اینکه اینان که خود دچار توهمات هستند چرا ما را وادار می کنند که در اشتباه 

زندگی کنیم، این را بدون شک خود برگزارکنندگان این نمایش نیز نمی دانند.

فرناندو پسوآ - برگردان: حسین منصوری

Turkmen Jewelry Collection

آیه های زمینی

شعر : فروغ فرخزاد

اثر : نادر مشایخی
آواز : سپیده وحیدی
سوپرانو : مارلیز پترسن

Anais Nin on Anger and the Artist

Sidewalk Art In Tehran

Akbar Fazli Panah is an Iranian sculptor who started his metal artworks in Tehran's side walks five years ago!
His works with his words, click here

The Desert of Forbidden Art

How does art survive in a time of oppression? During the Soviet rule artists who stay true to their vision are executed, sent to mental hospitals or Gulags.

Their plight inspires young Igor Savitsky. He pretends to buy state-approved art but instead daringly rescues 40,000 forbidden fellow artist's works and creates a museum in the desert of Uzbekistan, far from the watchful eyes of the KGB. Though a penniless artist himself, he cajoles the cash to pay for the art from the same authorities who are banning it. Savitsky amasses an eclectic mix of Russian Avant-Garde art. But his greatest discovery is an unknown school of artists who settle in Uzbekistan after the Russian revolution of 1917, encountering a unique Islamic culture, as exotic to them as Tahiti was for Gauguin. They develop a startlingly original style, fusing European modernism with centuries-old Eastern traditions.

Ben Kingsley, Sally Field and Ed Asner voice the diaries and letters of Savitsky and the artists. Intercut with recollections of the artists' children and rare archival footage, the film takes us on a dramatic journey of sacrifice for the sake of creative freedom. Described as "one of the most remarkable collections of 20th century Russian art" and located in one of the world's poorest regions, today these paintings are worth millions, a lucrative target for Islamic fundamentalists, corrupt bureaucrats and art profiteers. The collection remains as endangered as when Savitsky first created it, posing the question whose responsibility is it to preserve this cultural treasure.

Iran, Seven Faces of Civilization

An incredible documentary about Persia
the video is 63 minutes long well worth watching. click here

War Photography

تکان دهنده ترین لحظه ها در عراق و افغانستان از دریچه دوربین

LIFE

"The sex lives of great writers"

Trailer - The sex lives of great writers - Marc Lefrançois
the trailer of the latest book by Marc LeFrançois: "The sex lives of great writers" - Publisher: SHARE THE COMMON ...

The Color of Pomegranates / Sayat Nova (English subtitles).رنگ انار

سرگِی پاراجانُف فيلم ساز مشهور ارمنی - روسی ست که در سال 1924 در شهر تفلیس بدنیا آمد. رنگ انارفیلم ساختۀ او یکی از شاهکارهای سینمائی قرن بیستم است. تصاویر و صحنه های بی نظیر در این فیلم گویای عمیق ترین زوایای روح بشر می باشند گوشه هائی که پرداختن به آن تنها در توان تعدادی بسیار اندک از نوع بشر است صحبت ازتقابل "من" و "منیّت" یک هنرمند و خالق یک اثراست با جهان پیرامونش
فصل قبل از کودکی/ فصل کودکی و قسمتی از فصل جوانی: از ظهور در آستانه، تولد، سرگردانی بین زنانگی و مردانگی تا قبل از ظهور معشوق / فصل جوانی: عاشق شدن - دنیای اجتماعی / سرزمین مرده‌ها/ فصل میان‌سالی: به دیر رفتن و تقابل دوگونه زندگی در دیر .



Steeped in religious iconography, The Color of Pomegranates is a deeply spiritual testament to director Sergei Parajanov’s fascination with Armenian folk art and culture. It is also a controversial work, which, coupled with another of his films, Shadows of our Forgotten Ancestors, led to his arrest and imprisonment in a Soviet Gulag for four years. The Soviets insisted he was guilty of selling gold and icons illegally and committing “homosexual acts.” In reality, his only crime was offending the tenets of socialist realism, both in his daring surrealistic form and in his choice of subject matter. While many of the popular films of this era in Soviet cinema were largely propaganda designed to serve the ideological interests of the regime, Parajanov chose to focus on the ethnography and spirituality of the Ukraine, Armenia, and Georgia.

زندگیِ«اکنون» در چند نقاشیِ سهراب سپهری

فریبا حاج‌دایی

به انگیزة نمایش‌گاه آثار سهراب سپهری در موزه هنرهای معاصر

روزگاری سهراب سپهری از حیثِ جهان‌بینی‌اش، که بی‌اعتنا نسبت به حال و وضعِِ زمانه‌اش به نظر می‌آمد، با ویلیام بلیک مقایسه می‌شد و شاید هنوز هم می‌شود. من هم چنین قضاوتی داشتم تا چشمم به نقاشی‌هایِ خاصِ او از جنگل افتاد.

به دیدن 113 تابلوی موجود از سهراب سپهری در موزة هنرهای معاصر رفته‌ام. گفته بودند که از آن میان 18 اثر برای اولین بار در معرضِ دیدِ عموم قرار گرفته. می‌خواهم به طور اخص آن‌ها را ببینم که به جای آن میخِ چند تابلویی می‌شوم که سپهری از تنة درختان جنگل کشیده، فقط تنة درختان، نه بالاتر و نه پایین‌تر را. با دیدنِ آن‌ها فیلمِ«کودکیِ ایوان» ساختة تاروکوفسکی پیشِ چشمانم جان می‌گیرد که تقریباً در تمام طولِ فیلم تماشاگر ایوان را در حالِ راه‌پیمایی در جنگل بزرگی می‌بیند که از تمامی هیئتِ آن تنها تنة درخت‌‌هایش به چشم می‌خورد و بیینده نه سرشاخة درخت‌های جنگل را می‌بیند و نه قسمت‌های پایینی آن‌‌ها را.

سال‌ها پیش فیلم را دیده‌ام؛ در فیلم پسرکی دوازده ساله به نام ایوان به هنگام حملة هیتلر به شورویِ سابق به عنوان جاسوس و به شکل ناشناس وارد مرزهای آلمان می‌شود تا به جمع‌آوری اطلاعات بپردازد. او کوچک‌سال است اما جنگ کودکی او را زیرِ خروارها جسد له کرده و از همة کودکیِ او چیزی جز اندامی کوچک باقی نمانده است. درون مایة«کودکی ایوان» انسان را چنان که به راستی هست، هم چون یک فرد، با دنیای درونی‌اش، عاطفه‌ها و دلبستگی‌هایش و در کاستی‌های انسانی‌اش مطرح می‌کند و نه در هیئتِ وظیفه‌های اجتماعی و سیاسی‌اش.

هنوز توی موزه‌ام و فکر می‌کنم که هم نقاش، سپهری، و هم فیلم‌ساز، تاروکوفسکی، بی‌خبر از یکدیگر از یک زاویة دید جنگل را دیده‌اند، قسمتی از تنة کهنسالِ درختانِ یک جنگل را. آن‌ها نه با گذشته و ریشه‌هایِ درخت کاری دارند و نه به سرشاخه‌ها و آینده‌اش نظر می‌افکنند و شاید هردو می‌خواهند بگویند که ای ایهالناس، ای بزرگان، ای سیاست‌مداران، ای که و که... منِ آدم کوچولو نه به ماجراهایِ قبلی این جنگل کار دارم و نه می‌خواهم بدانم بعدها چه بر سرِ این جنگل می‌رود، تنها می‌خواهم در«همین اکنون» با رویاهایِ خود سر کنم و نمی‌خواهم دست‌خوشِ آرمان‌ها و رویاهایِ شما باشم. شاید می‌توان فیلم و نقاشی‌ها را از این منظر به تماشا نشست که اتفاقات بزرگ، سیاسی و بیرونی می‌تواند چه تأثیر مخربی بر زندگیِ آدم‌های ساده و معمولی بگذارد، آدم‌هایی که می‌خواهند ساده زندگی کنند و بی‌حادثه بمیرند. آن‌ها می‌خواهند بچگی کنند، جوانی کنند و از میان‌سالی و کهن‌سالگی خود لذت ببرند و نمی‌خواهند به مانندِ ایوان از بچگی به مرگ برسند، و شاید فیلمِ«کودکی ایوان» و نقاشی‌های سهراب این سوال را مطرح می‌کنند که اصلاً به چه حقی کسانی بر سرِ کسانِ دیگر فرود می‌آیند و به آن‌ها می‌گویند که چگونه فکر کنند و دنیا را از چه منظری ببینند؟!

مآخذ: سایت دیباچه

Ancient Pompeii on Google Street View

Google’s Street View service, which lets you zoom into Google Maps and stroll through the city streets in a 3D environment, is amazing in its own right, but it just got thrice as amazing with the addition of the ancient ruins of Pompeii.

Pompeii, ruined and partially buried Roman town-city near Naples, Italy, is one of the most amazing sights one can see in their lifetime. The city was destroyed during an eruption of the volcano Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD., but after it was rediscovered in 1738 and excavated in the late 19th century, it became one of the most important archaeological finds (and tourist attractions) of all time.

Now, you can explore it in 3D through Google’s Street View, and the results are truly impressive. Of course, the experience is not as good as actually visiting Pompeii in person, but it’s definitely the next best thing. Check it out here:

AWESOME: Ancient Pompeii Ruins Now on Google Street View

قمرالملوک وزیری

2 poems by Endre Ady

Nov. 22, 1877 was the birthday of Hungarian Symbolist poet Endre Ady who was born in a part of Hungary that is now Romanian territory. He studied law, and later became a journalist in Oradea (also now in Romania). Through his involvement with a married woman who lived in Paris, he became aware of the relative provinciality of his home country and followed her to France. His muse Léda (a reverse spelling of her name Adél Brüll (married name, Mrs. Diósi)) inspired some of his sensual love poems, altogether an improvement over his youthful Sturm und Drang efforts…

Gradually he became a Modernist through exposure to the art circles in Paris and he started writing poems alternating between spleen and speed:

Autumn Passed through Paris

Autumn sliped into Paris yesterday,
came silently down Boulevard St Michel,
In sultry heat, past boughs sullen and still,
and met me on its way.

As I walked on to where the Seine flows by,
little twig songs burned softly in my heart,
smoky, odd, sombre, purple songs. I thought
they sighed that I shall die.

Autumn drew abreast and whispered to me,
Boulevard St Michel that moment shivered.
Rustling, the dusty, playful leaves quivered,
whirled forth along the way.

One moment: summer took no heed: whereon,
laughing, autumn sped away from Paris.
That it was here, I alone bear witness,
under the trees that moan.

***

Benediction from a Train

The express is hurtling at full speed,
the sun explodes into the sea,
my memories flash a millisecond,
and I bless you.

“May God bless
all your goodness,
your unresponsiveness,
and all your wickedness.
May your words of torment
return to you in benediction.
May your coldness
leap into flames.
All is at an end.
I have a thousand cares,
and for my folly
the bier is spread.
Well, I bless you,
and meanwhile
kiss me softly,
in silence and peace.
I wish to leave you
with a memory and a kiss
to freeze for warmth,
to be alone,
to feel alone,
to die alone.
May God bless you.”

The express is hurtling at full speed,
the sun explodes into the sea,
my memories flash a millisecond,
and I bless you.

Ady was against the war mongering forces in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and wrote pacifist poems during WW I. He suffered a stroke near the end of the war, and died in 1919 from pneumonia and weakened health as a result of alcoholism.

I like to add another poem of him which is my favorite. FE

* * *

Who come from far away

We are the men who are always late,
we are the men who come from far away.
Our walk is always weary and sad,
we are the men who are always late.
We do not even know how to die in peace.
When the face of distant death appears,
our souls splash into a tam tam of flame.
We do not even know how to die in peace.
We are the men who are always late.
We are never on time with our success,
our dreams, our heaven, or our embrace.
We are the men who are always late.

Endre Ady

Tehran has no more pomogranate

تهران انار ندارد - 2008.11.13

کارگردان: مسعود بخشی

Tajik singer شهر خالی

I Would Like to Discribe

I would like to describe the simplest emotion
joy or sadness
but not as others do
reaching for shafts of rain or sun

I would like to describe a light
which is being born in me
but I know it does not resemble
any star
for it is not so bright
not so pure
and is uncertain

I would like to describe courage
without dragging behind me a dusty lion
and also anxiety
without shaking a glass full of water

to put it another way
I would give all metaphors
in return for one word
drawn out of my breast like a rib
for one word
contained within the boundaries
of my skin

but apparently this is not possible

and just to say -- I love
I run around like mad
picking up handfuls of birds

and my tenderness
which after all is not made of water
asks the water for a face

and anger
different from fire
borrows from it
a loquacious tongue

so is blurred
so is blurred
in me
what white-haired gentleman
separated once and for all
and said
this in the subject
this is the object

we fall asleep
with one hand under our head
and with the other in a mound of planets

our feet abandon us
and taste the earth
with their tiny roots
which next morning
we tear out painfully


Zbigniew Herbert
Polish poet
1924-1998

در جستجوی زمان از دست رفته

زن با بی حوصلگی پیاز را خرد کرد و روی آتش گذاشت تا سرخ شود.چشمهایش می سوخت و گونه هایش
خیس شده بودند. با دستان مرطوب کتابش را ورق زدو سعی کرد دنباله جمله پروست را پیدا کند
"...ازخارق العاده هیچ چیز غائی پدید نمی آید واصولا خارق العاده وجود ندارد. بدین گونه است که هنرمند
برای رسیدن به خویشتن که همان رموز زیبائیست باید از افتادن به دام اسطوره پرستی بپرهیزد."

چشمان زن به نقطه نامعلومی در فضا- بالای صفحه کتابش میخکوب شد و عمیقا به فکر فرو رفت.
نفهمید چه مدتی گذشت...دود بدبوئی اطرافش را گرفته بود. با عصبانیت پیازهای سوخته را در زباله
سرازیر کرد و خورد کردن پیاز و سوزش چشم و اشک هایش همه تکرار شدند-زمانی که افکارش
همچنان" در جستجوی زمان از دست رفته" را جستجو می کرد.

Collaboration of Two Artists, Nin and Telberg

"AND she danced; she danced with the music and with the rhythm of earth's circles; she turned with the earth turning, like a disk, turning all faces to light and to darkness evenly, dancing towards daylight."

Anais Nin's first novel, "House of Incest" (1936), ends with this verbal image of release. A later edition of the book, published in 1958, does not, however, end with words, but rather with a visual image, a photomontage by Val Telberg of Sag Harbor. The picture portrays a nude dancer, her wide-flung arms solarized into torches. Superimposed on her torso are blades of grass, and behind the dancing figure is a beckoning doorway.

Nin, who died in 1977 at 73, is best known for her seven volumes of diaries written from 1914 to 1974. When she saw Mr. Telberg's work in 1950, Nin detected a kindred spirit. "She loved his photographs and decided he should illustrate 'House of Incest,' " said Sheryl Conkelton, associate curator of photography at the Museum of Modern Art.

Theirs was a remarkable collaboration of two artists from different disciplines who produced a hybrid work of art combining words and pictures. " 'House of Incest' is the best thing Nin ever did, and Telberg's photomontages really capture the dreamlike state and Surrealist mood," said Benjamin Franklin 5th, a professor of English at the University of South Carolina and an expert on Nin's work.

Nin described Mr. Telberg's photography as a "spiritual X-ray." After seeing his images for her book, she wrote, "I have a feeling you have done it, . . . captured the book's intent without illustrating." In another letter she added, "Your montages are poetic in their own terms -- in their own language." Conference and Exhibition

Mr. Telberg and Nin worked in different media, but they had much in common. Both were cosmopolitan and attracted to Surrealism.

Nin was born in France in 1903, the daughter of musicians. Her Cuban father was a celebrated pianist and composer who deserted the family when Anais was 11. She began her diary on a boat to America, in an attempt to win him back.

Mr. Telberg, was born in Moscow in 1910 before the Russian revolution, was the child of a mother who was an artist and a father who was the last prime minister of Siberia before the Bolshevik takeover. The family fled to Korea and Japan before settling in China, where Mr. Telberg grew up.

Trained as a chemist, he moved to New York in 1938 and began studying painting under artists like George Grosz in 1942 at the Art Students League. A part-time job developing photographs soon lured him away from painting.

"Photography was faster," Mr. Telberg, 84, said in an interview. "The space between conception and performance is very short in photography. Photomontage is more exciting, more immediate than oil painting, which is very laborious." Debt to Abstract Expressionists

His darkroom technique owes much to the improvisatory style of the Abstract Expressionists. "Their attitude of experimentation with new visions and new images appealed to me," he said.

Mr. Telberg created his montages from a stockpile of negatives that he sandwiched together on a lightbox, without preconceived notions of a final product. In a method akin to free association, he layered a variety of negatives in different configurations as a leaping-off point that evolves into a finished composition.

"Val works in the darkroom the way a painter works in the studio," said Jim Richard Wilson, director of the Rathbone Gallery at Sage Junior College in Albany, which originated the exhibition of Mr. Telberg's work.(1994)

Like Nin, Mr. Telberg was interested in Surrealism. "What appealed to me was magic and anything unusual," said the photographer, who was friends with surrealist artists like Pavel Tchelitchew, Salvador Dali and the film maker Maya Deren.

"Val was happy to be included with the Surrealists, because they welcome accidents, use the unconscious, and act on dreams," a photographer, Warren Padula, said.

"But he was not part of a defined group." Mr. Padula, who curated a show of Mr. Telberg's photomontages for the Art House Odeon Gallery in Sag Harbor, added. "He's an American original."

Nin was part of a Parisian literary group in the 30's that included writers like Antonin Artaud, Henry Miller and Lawrence Durrell. "Surrealism," she wrote, "was part of the air we breathed." In "House of Incest," Nin tried to represent the subconscious, based on Jung's dictum to "proceed from the dream outward."

"Nin's greatest contribution was to liberate women through her diary. She opened doors to let women reveal their personal lives," said Suzanne Nalbantian, a professor of English and comparative literature at the C. W. Post campus of L.I.U. "Nin was seductive, erotic, very 20th-century and expressed herself with a freedom that is liberating."

Ms. Nalbantian, organizer of the conference on Nin, wrote "Aesthetic Autobiography" (St. Martin's), dealing with Nin's work.

Nin and Mr. Telberg shared an interest in avant-garde film making. When they met in 1950, "I was yearning to become a film maker, but I couldn't afford the equipment," Mr. Telberg recalled.

Instead he adapted cinematic effects like dissolve and jump-cut to still photography. "Val's photomontages have the feeling of movement that you find in cinema," said his wife, Lelia Katayen, a dancer and choreographer. "They take you from one image in time or place to another until they blend."

"Some critics say a Telberg photomontage is like a whole movie shown simultaneously in one frame," Mr. Padula noted.

Mr. Telberg contributed to a pioneering film, "Between Two Worlds" (1952), directing a dance sequence of superimposed frames projected simultaneously. The photographer also collaborated with Nin's husband, Ian Hugo, an experimental film maker, on the multi-image film "Bells of Atlantis" (1952), based on "House of Incest" and narrated by Nin.

After their brief alliance the careers of the artists diverged. Before her first diary gained acclaim when published in 1966, Nin had great difficulty publishing her novels. Even after she bought a printing press and produced her own editions in Greenwich Village in the 40's, Nin could not persuade critics to review her books.

In the 70's, however, she became a cult figure, a frequent speaker on the college circuit. She was considered a heroine of the women's movement, even though her brand of feminism was nondoctrinaire. Cacharel named a perfume, Anais, after the writer, and a film, "Henry and June," portrayed her friendship with Miller and his wife.

The conference at L.I.U. will offer further evidence of Nin's celebrity. Scholars from around the United States and as far away as Japan will debate Nin's fiction in terms of psychoanalysis and eroticism. Her brother Joaquin Nin-Culmell, a musician, will deliver the keynote address, friends will offer reminiscences, and her husband's films will be screened.

In contrast to Nin's fame, Mr. Telberg was not widely known, even though hewas an important figure in this country for creative, as opposed to "straight" or documentary, photography. His work appears in major collections like the Museum of Modern Art, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Getty Museum, but his emotion-laden evocative montages, in which images merge like watercolor, never fit the former fashion for realism.

"I was interested in dream images," Mr. Telberg said. "I was considered crazy."

A 1983 retrospective at the San Francisco Museum of Art paid homage to his montages, but difficulty in classifying his oeuvre delayed recognition. "He doesn't belong in the painter's field, and yet his work is like a painting," his wife said. "Nobody knew where to place him."

"Poets were more interested in my work than photographers," Mr. Telberg said, adding that he was friends in Greenwich Village, before moving to Sag Harbor in 1959, with New York School poets like Frank O'Hara, Kenneth Koch and John Ashbery and the musician John Cage.

O'Hara, an art critic as well as poet, called Mr. Telberg "a painter who turned to photography in order to accomplish the pictures he could not find in paint."

"I try," Mr. Telberg said 40 years ago, "to invent a completely unreal world, new, free and truthful."

source: NY Times archive, museum of New Mexico/fine art, MOMA's web site