The books of Henry Miller (1891-1980) are like the worse of cows or mountain torrents: one can drink life at the source, to be boasted with pure ardor and lukewarm joy, an inexhaustible treat . An impression that strikes the reading of this smile at the foot of the scale, in short poetic tale written in 1948 under the sign of the Cirque de Seurat, for the painter Fernand Léger (1881-1955). A mystical Miller flourishes there, which stages the Auguste clown whose number ends with an ecstatic contemplation at the foot of a ladder launched towards the moon. An adorable trance unfortunately defiles the fatty laughter and heavy sladients of the crowd. Las of this sound stoning, Auguste deserted and drowns in the city. Until the day he returns to the stage to finally know the real bliss, “resting at the assizes of his being”. Miller, like a Henri Michaux whose clown poem questions the same symbol, uses his character as a angel and the radiant misery of the Augustus as a way to holiness: ” Joy is like a river: nothing stops its course. It seems to me that this is the message that the clown strives to transmit to us, that we should mix with the incessant flow, to the movement, not stop at Think, compare, analyze, but sink without truce and endless, like inexhaustible music “.
An “inexhaustible music” that is found intact and constantly expanding in one of the friendly models of Miller and Majuscule brother of Fernand Léger, Blaise Cendrars (1887-1961), of which today constitutes a favorite collection . Released in Grasset in 1931, composed of texts written between 1919 and 1927, he shows us the author of the cut hand (1946) drawn up to the heart of the modernist cyclone of the 1920s, a rush to whom he tried to confer a fair translation by The gushing of his verb, the meticulous intensity of his lyric vision: “Today is to Blaise Cendrars what the manifesto of surrealism is to André Breton, a profession of faith, a poetic art and a proclamation in the world whole, “writes the publisher, the eminent Cendrarsien Claude Leroy. Marked by the deadly test of war (“I killed”), Cendrars nevertheless tried to reconnect with “Le deep today” by summoning painters and writers, speaking the abecerated of a cinema induced to ” ‘Eternity of the ephemeral “and especially by questioning a present reality whose America embodies the frenzied eagerness:” There is in modern people a need for simplification which tends to be satisfied by all means. And This monotony which is increasingly invading the world, this monotony is the sign of our greatness. “
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