the exhibit is over at 8 pm on 2 july.
watch it now and, well, forever lose your peace.

Under Development: Singur

Photo Exhibition
27 June to 2 July, from 2 pm to 8 pm

Panel Discussion on Displacement and Development
4.30 pm, Friday 27 June

Speakers:

Professor Samik Bandyopadhyay (Senior Film Critic and Scholar)
Dr. Kavita Panjabi (Professor, Department of Comparative Literature, Jadavpur University)
Dr. Rajarshi Dasgupta (Fellow in Political Science, CSSSC)
Dr. Paromita Chakravarti (Senior Lecturer, Department of English, Jadavpur University)

Film Festival
Saturday 28 June and Sunday 29 June

28 June 2008

11.00 am - Bombay Our City – Anand Patwardhan (India: 1985, 82 min)

2.00 pm - Mahua Memoirs – Vinod Raja (India: 2007, 80 min)

4.30 pm - Czech Dream – Vit Klusak and Felip Remunda

(Czechoslovakia: 2004, 90 mins)

6.00 pm - An Aura of Development - Shubhasree Bhattacharyya and Sumantra Roy

(India: 2008, 65 min)

7.00 pm - Unnayan - Banduker Nole - Pramod Gupta (India: 2007, 44 mins)

29 June 2008

11.00 am - A Narmada Diary – Anand Patwardhan (India: 1996, 60 min)

2.00 pm - Still Life – Zhang ke Jia (Hong Kong: 2006, 111 min)

4. 30 pm - Mahua Memoirs – Vinod Raja (India: 2007, 80 min)

6.00 pm - Teardrops of Karnaphuli – Tanvir Mokammel (Bangladesh: 2006, 60 min)

to be held at the
Seagull Arts and Media Resource Centre, Kolkata.

All are welcome.

a weirdo a day. such marvellous authors.

we have been advertised.

stories.

i had a most marvellous browse.

sorrow beyond i can tell.

let me entertain you.

chanced upon.

as early as 2006.

howl. linked from here.

'Those were, however – with the exception of pointing out the occasional objective mistake – simply my opinions, and I don’t consider them to be privileged. Once you’ve written something it’s not yours any longer: it belongs to other people, and they all have opinions about it, and every single one of those opinions is as correct as that of the author – more so, perhaps. Because those people have read the work as something perfectly new, and, barring amnesia, an author is never going to be able to do that. There will be too many ghost-versions of the story in the way, and besides, the author cannot read it for the first time, wondering what happens next, comparing it to other things that he or she has read.

So while I may, opinionated myself, disagree with some of the conclusions presented here, I am quite content for the opinions to exist; after all, the people who came to them read the work for the first time, which is more than I’ve ever managed... I’ve always enjoyed it, perhaps because I’ve always had a healthy respect for academia. Even when I'm puzzled by it, it treats art like it matters. And for those of us who make art, that’s a fine thing to experience.

I’m always particularly delighted by academic attention to comics – partly because I think we need the best critical minds to point to what we do and explain it to ourselves, and partly, even mostly, because it shows how much things are changing. (A decade ago I was invited to speak at one major American university by the art department, and was informed, apologetically, that the English department were, ah, boycotting my talk, because, after all, I did comics. These days the invitations come from the English departments...)'


the branagh, in one of his moments of obtuse honesty, said he thought actors were nice people. well, i think academics are nice people. and i think the department of english is a marvellous thing.

the cite is from the journal. the man can write.
but then, it is the sort of writing i would like, because of how much reading there is in it.

i dare say there was no call for it. but i have just scared myself silly reading some blake. there is some gall to a man who can do that in that kind of metrical ease.

we got the masculinities.

je voyais, j'ecoutais

edith piaf
je ne regrette rien

paroles: michel vocaire
musique: charles dumont

Non ! Rien de rien
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal tout ça m'est bien égal !

Non ! Rien de rien
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé !

Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux !

Balayées les amours
Et tous leurs trémolos
Balayés pour toujours
Je repars à zéro

Non ! Rien de rien
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal !

Non ! Rien de rien
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi !

among the many he pointed out.

the why. a different sort of why. very valid.

weekend.

now improvising, having run out of space on my own account.
i must say i have no dearth of excitement.