Amerikai Magyar Szó, 1992. január-június (46. évfolyam, 1-26. szám)
1992-04-30 / 18. szám
8. AMERIKAI MAGYAR SZÓ Thursday, April 30. 1992. Walt whitman THE CÜPMAN N NEW YORK1 now paintings by ANDRAS WAHORN For five days only (May 5-9) the Elston Fine Arts Gallery, 214 E 9th St. New York, NY 10003 will present "THE CUP- MAN IN NEW YORK", a new series of paintings made by the Hungarian artist, András Wahom during his recent 5 months stay in Canada and New York. Wahorn's vivid, narrative paintings depict scenes of lustful figures, drawn in computer oriented, graffiti-like style, cavorting in urban situations, amid tall buildings, airplanes and yellow cabs. The themes are usually the same, such as life, death and eternal loves. Mr. Wahorn experiments in various mediums, he concentrates now on painting and music in his studio in Szentendre, a historic city near Budapest that is known for its large and active art community. The opening reception is May 5th, 6-9 PM. Opening speech by Andre Erdos, Ambassador of the Republic of Hungary for the UN, who will also show one of his 5 min. films, Live Animals in Eastern Europe. Gallery hours: Tuesday to Saturday, 12-6 PM*. Telephone: (212) 529-4579. Endre Ady (Sötét vizek partján) On the Bank of Dark Waters I sit amid tide and wind and sun On the rocky shores of Babylon I have seen fluffy little passions Waning loves and torrid confessions I knew trials, crises, woes - no end Yet wound up in silly arguments There were times I half-believed I saw God appear in full regalia I hung up my harp many a time I took down my harp many a time God, wine, women and doubt took their toll Illness ravaged my body and soul I've been hero, troubadour and champ My poor back was miserably bent I gave and gave as I came and went Till I find me so pleasantly spent lam flailed by wind and tide and sun By the dark waters of Babylon. Translated by Eugene Bard Few artists have been as passionate as "Democracy's Poet," this ex-newspaperman, teacher and self-professed "loafer" who sang of the muscled energy of Manhattan and pondered the deliciousness of death roaming Long Island's shores. He had seen much by the time his 72- years-old body was taken to the Egyptian- style tomb he designed in Camden, N.J. His pale-blue eyes had studied a country that said good-bye to its revolutionary fighters, then nearly tore itself apart in one of the world's bloodiest civil wars. He had gazed upon a president later assassinated, traveled rough-hewn America and studied its calloused working men and enduring women. In his writings, he was lusty and omnivorous, wired and intuitive, sublime and ridiculous, a prophet of love and death who often picked the crude word instead of the cultured, and relished his swaggering young country before it had grasped its own greatness. "Whitman is an American classic," says critic and author Alfred Kazin. "He's it! What else is there to say." The celebration offers a chance for people to dust off what probably is an outdated literary image - a rumpled Santa Claus with white beard and broadbrimmed hat; the benign fuddy-duddy who penned "O Captain! My Captain!" The Whitman image that emerges from biographies is of a man bursting with life, who whispered and ranted, seduced and shocked. Words shouldn't just lie on a page, he felt, they should stand up and walk around. Little in Walt Whitman's background promised greatness. He was born in a house built in West Hills by his brooding Quaker father. When he was 4, the family moved to Brooklyn, but he returned in the summers to Long Island, where he walked along its beaches pondering a favorite theme, death. Even in bustling Brooklyn, the senior Whitman, a carpenter, had trouble making a living, and the family moved from home to home. Walt's formal education ended at age 11, and he began work as a printer's devil. During his life, he was reporter, editor, typesetter, writer, schoolteacher, real estate agent, nurse, clerk and orator. At 17, he began a series of assignments as a schoolteacher on Long Island, an area he loved more in memory as an old man than during his impatient youth, when he longed to explore the vitality of the big city. He loved the rush and clang of New York with its thieves, pickpockets, child prostitutes, theaters, oyster cellars, dandies and drunkards. Much of his early writing was preachy fiction filled with false sentiment. Whitman waited until the age of 36 to publish "Leaves of Grass," the masterpiece he wrote in something of a prolonged out-of-body experience. It was work that spread like an overcultivated lawn throughout his life (nine editions that grew from 95 to 450 pages). Whitman refused to compromise the book's content, even when omitting its graphic parts would have helped its commercial success. Whitman's ranking as one of America's greatest poets today is an overdue justice, considering that much of his meager financial support came from donations by European admirers rather than his own countrymen. Much of the re-evaluation of his importance began in the 1930s and '40s, when scholars began to recognize the intelligence hidden behind his rustic pose, says Kaplan. What happened? "I think they got over certain barriers," Age 54. Whitman tried to appear older than he was. The beard helped. Kaplan says. "A fair amount of Whitman is noisy and windy. But once you get past that, you see... he was a hell of a lot more sophisticated and better read and more of a craftsman than he wanted you to belive." "No one has ever done for a city what Whitman did. No one who has ever read 'Crossing Brooklyn Ferry' gets away from it when he's crossing the harbor or walking over the Brooklyn Bridge." But, of course, it is "Leaves of Grass" that remains Whitman's pinnacle. "When 'Leaves' appeared, it was revolutionary in form, loose and flowing and not bound by rhyme or conventional language," says Kaplan. "It was bold also in subject matter and ambition. Whitman was unique in writing about sex and bodily functions and the average day-to-day experience of average persons. This was not poetry of ruined battlements and castles. Though it can be quite mystical, it is very much earthbound." By James Kin dali U& Marketing Network Seeks Joint Venture Partners The Hungarian-American Marketing Network is a New York based firm seeking alliances with export-minded Hungarian companies. The company specializes in bi-lateral trade relationship, especially in consumer oriented products for American markets. The company enters into joint venture trade-agreement with Hungarian Companies, help finance, distribute and market the products. For more information call or write: President, The Hungarian-American Marketing Network, 145 West 45th Street, Suite 703, New York, N.Y. 10036 The telephone is (212) 302 9300. The fax is (212) 768-4707
