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Corneliu MICHAILESCU (Bucharest, 1887-Bucharest, 1965) is one of the less known Romanian avant-garde artists, with a particular although somehow exemplar creative itinerary. Despite his relatively long life and apparently static development, he is one of the rare Romanian

1. You open one door and there appears another, then another, and another, up to the last one – which does not even exist – and thus you find yourself at the first door – which does not even exist – and you make a round, once more, unto familiar places, as what you

The unconscious is a privileged territory for Blecher's creation. It's the storage room of all chimeras, the source of imagination, the combustion of the narrative discourse, the origin of the delirium, which feeds the revelation and the inspiration. We can talk

excerpts I could find antiques and old objects evoking sad memories on still another deserted floor in my grandfather's house. There the walls were covered by strange pictures having thick, gilded, wooden frames, or thinner frames of red plush. There were also several

Mateiu Caragiale left us a literary heritage, fragmentary in its outlook that puzzled and amazed through its originality, through an appetite for mystery it seemed to originate in, through the secret inspiration that fed it and through its old-fashioned lyricism which was

The summon sounded imperative, I had positive interests, thank goodness – I was to receive by the hands of professor Cioranescu the second volume of his memoirs - this, as he had no intention of coming to the country this year – moreover, my curiosity was not inconsiderable.

The theatre is a rather faithful reflection of a people's mores. The Japanese theatre is superior to and different from the Chinese one, in which neither the art, nor the artistic appreciation or the realism of the Japanese theatre can be found. Heightened to the status

The feelings for beauty and for art in general are multiple and diverse; they follow an ascending path, turning into a passion for the sensitive person, who loves it and who vibrates with emotion in front of any artistic manifestation situated on the realm of perfection.

The reader will remember, if I draw his attention thereto, that the magnetic attraction exerted by the Hrandt and Rose Avakian home on me during my teenage years originated in the Eastern art statuettes particularly present on the cants, albeit not only there, but rather

I was playing belote – ancient surrealism heralding as its ultimatevalues the nine and the Jack, nobody knows why, some poets claim this is an idea meant to consecrate the troubadour and the portal he passes under at night – I waspeacefully playing one evening in a house

Minimal Joys  To fully take delight in minimal joys – here is one of the irreducible experiences of joy in the East of Europe before 1989. The minimal joys mustn't be confounded with the simple joys. It is one thing to enjoy a piece of hot bread and a glass of wine

Barbu Lautaru rustled up his physical and artistic resources, desirous to make an impression on Franz Liszt whom he met during the great Hungarian virtuoso's visit to Moldavia. Their encounter became famous thanks to an article carried by the French weekly La Vie Parisienne,