Form versus Content

Prior to going on holiday to France, I'd painted for my model railway layout, a large backdrop of Paris, Eiffel Tower and all. I was exceedingly pleased with it.

However, on returning from said holiday, the thing looked hopeless - 'flimsy' is how I would sum it up.

And it looks no better close-up.

The qualities that 5 weeks ago I had thought of as 'looseness' and 'naivete' - in the artistic sense - now seem more like 'crassness' and 'inadequacy' - in the artistic sense.

Not sure if there are any adjustments that can be made to save it.

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Currently listening to:

Listening to this radio station with its occasional interspersions of manic French utterances from promoters etc is prolonging my sense of being in France.

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Last night's dinner:

Have decided to stop showing the cost of each meal - a photo will have to suffice.

Last night, I forgot to take a photo but it was lambs' liver, onions and rice.

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Miscellany:

Spotted outside a corner shop this morning in Whiteinch, Glasgow.

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Currently reading:

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Form versus Content:

This is one of the fundamental issues I want to understand.

As usual, initial reading indicated a fairly comprehensible albeit unremarkable distinction between the format that a piece of literature might be written in eg poem/prose/letter/advert/radio programme and what the thing is about eg a love story/complaint about police brutality/effects of gravity.

Next one could, if one so desired, consider how form can influence content and vice versa. So while a letter about police brutality might have a certain effect, a poem about the same thing might have an altogether different effect.

So far so straightforward.

But when one looks at form versus content in the context of philosophy, which is my primary interest, things quickly escalate to the incomprehensible.

"Form and Content are philosophical contents concerned with the contrast between the appearance (or significance) of a thing and its essence or existence. Form is the mode of existence, expression or internal organisation of the Content of a thing, while Content is in turn the totality of relations and potentialities of the same thing.

The historically earliest concepts of Form and Content identified Content with a ‘formless’ matter and Form with the structure of that matter, but such a concept which allows reality only to Form and reduces Content to a wholly abstract “thing-in-itself” is conducive towards a metaphysical understanding of things.

Form and Content are a Unity of Opposites: they are two aspects of one and the same thing, which in the process of development of the thing and in its cognition, interpenetrate one another, interact and transform one into the other - Form becomes Content and Content Form."

Growing Old.

The spoils of our sojourn to France - HO scale wise.

The above items were purchased at a variety of  Brocante Vide Greniers, a junk shop and a Model Shop in the French town of Anglet.

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Currently listening to:

Joy of joys, it's possible and indeed, easy, to receive HotMix Radio on the internet in the UK.

Thus, I am now listening to their Lounge selection.

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Last night's dinner:

Forgot to take photograph and indeed am thinking of re-vamping this section of the blog.

Will summarise the French holiday eating experience tomorrow.

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Currently reading:

Thoroughly enjoying and finding difficult to put down:

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Growing Old:

Came across a quotation from Rupert Everett about growing old which chimes with my experience:

"People who once appeared impossibly old are suddenly contemporaries with much more energy than oneself."

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And suddenly there is too little time left and so much that one wants to do:

Now that I'm home I want to get cracking on the list of topics that I compiled while on holiday and which I've have deemed as essential study:

Form over content;
Being in itself;
Contingency (in the Sartrean sense);
Bad faith;
Symbolist poetry (indeed all poetry!);
Phenomenological reduction (in Husserl's sense).

The Joys of Cycling

For me, the most significant pleasure to be had from cycling is experiencing the world more intensively than one does when sitting in a car.

So, one comes across an interesting looking house.

And one can get off one's bike and inspect it more closely.

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Currently listening to:

Blonde on Blonde

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Last night's dinner:

Purchased from a butcher in Soustons. I asked him (through the medium of mime) to flatten the escalopes of veal  so that they'd be easier to cook - this he did with gusto and the pieces halved in thickness and doubled in area.

But later that day when I took them out of their wrapper, they had resumed their initial proportions.

Escalopes of veal and carrot gratin

Patisserie in white chocolate case.

Cost per head including wine: £6.50

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Just started reading:

This Landes is my Landes.

I was right when I suggested that the cycle paths around Vieux Boucau were old railway lines and that the Vieux Boucau station is still standing next to them.

As it is today.

As of old.
 

And further north along the same cycle track we passed yesterday the old station of Messanges.

 

 

Cycled 5 miles this morning in the other direction to the small town of Soustons to discover whether the local butcher had anything of interest for tonight's dinner. He did.

On the way to Soustons

Had a look at the local market.

Green cheese for sale.

Then went for a coffee and a read at a local café.

Reverted to Iris Murdoch on Sartre; she is an excellent prose stylist, I must say. Towards the end of the chapter on picturing consciousness she sums matters up like this: "Sartre, like Freud, sees life as an egocentric drama; 'the world is my world' in that it is shaped by my values, projects and possibilities." p 96.

 

I was once berated by my tennis doubles partner for purportedly loving France when I could speak hardly a word of  French. "It's simply not possible to know a nation without knowing its language," he opined.

 

Although slightly stung by this chiding, I knew he was wrong. I can love France in anyway I want to. France, as it is to me, is shaped by my values, projects and possibilities.

 

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Currently listening to:

 

 

 I always think of my parents when I listen to the Psalms of an Anglican choral evensong.

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Last night's dinner:

Rabbit chasseur and rice

Cost per head plus slightly more expensive wine: £8.50

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Finished reading:

My review: Like the sequel "Vanished Years" there are breath-taking passages of prose in this book. This is especially so when he writes about his childhood and anything to do with his parents. Also, his descriptions of place are without equal.

But there is very little analysis in either book and the descriptions of his life with his boyfriends read like an article from Hello magazine - not that I have ever read Hello magazine!

The Grooves of Dede Minvielle

Mass this morning at Vieux Boucau.

Left bike outside - hope it's still there when I come out.

The imposing church tower.

People arriving.

Inside.

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Dede Minvielle:

There was a big music festival in Vieux Boucau yesterday lasted till midnight. But the highlight for me was the last act Dede Minvielle, on vocals and drums, with a young chap on clarinet, a girl on keyboards and a portly gentleman on electric bass.

Dede Minvielle

It was this time last year in Vieux Boucau that my wife and I joined in the dancing at an open air ball and the resolution formed in my mind to spend the next 12 months learning to dance.

As detailed elsewhere in this blog, I embarked upon a series of Tango classes and, in the end, despite huge commitment on my part,  had to admit defeat.

But Dede Minvielle and his combo have re-ignited that desire.

There are certain adjectives used to describe a really professional outfit like Dede's: spare; tight; funky; "in the groove"; laid-back; minimalist; and dare I say it, "cool".

These words definitely applied to last night. As the light faded, the square filled to the pulsating beat of the cha cha cha, pasa doble and God knows what else. And we joined in and, in my opinion, acquitted ourselves pretty well - we moved in ways that we have never attempted before.

The music was the thing, though - intoxicating; one of the best live bands I've ever seen. This Dede chap was a real cool dude - apologies for using such lingo.

Dede on the drums.

Crowds drawn in by the music.

Disappointingly, my wife said afterwards that she still preferred Scottish Country Dancing. Unbelievable!

Just found out that his full name is Andre Minvielle and this is his website.

http://www.andreminvielle.com/
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Last night's dinner:

From a stall at the local market: andouillete (basically an edible sausage skin filled with cuts of pork, entrails etc) and potatoes.

Followed by an almond and fruit tart and crème frais - cream being impossible to find in France.

Cost per head including cheap red wine: £5.50

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Currently reading:

Almost finished:

Buying HO Scale Trains at Brocante Vide Grenier

Drove to Seignosse Ocean where a much advertised brocante vide grenier (boot sale without the boots) was to be held. It was quite a busy one and for me very successful.

The usual collection of daft stalls.

This chap sold live painted snails which seemed to do tricks

You can perhaps see this one emerging from its shell to eat bread.

First stop was a haggling session with a husband and wife team over a Spanish made HO scale Simca 1000, a rear engined car that came out in 1961. By the way, SIMCA stands for Société Industrielle de Mécanique et Carrosserie Automobile.

 

Haggling process:

 

Me: (Pointing at little green Simca.) "Combien, monsieur?"

Monsieur: "Le prix?"

Me: (Aha, he's playing for time.) "Oui, le prix."

Msr: "7 euros."

Me: (Incredulously) "7!!!"

Msr: "7."

Me: (Holding up 5 fingers on one hand and two on the other.) "7!!!!!!!"

Msr: (Also holding up 5 fingers on one hand and two on the other.) "7."

Me: (Lapsing into English.) "But I've bought these things for 2 euros!!"

Msr: "7."

Me: "2 euros."

Msr: "7."

Me: "4." (I should have said 3.50 but couldn't remember what French for 50 was.)

Msr: "5."

Me: "4."

Msr: "5".

 

I smiled and walked away shaking my head. I can report that I felt absolutely hellish losing this battle over 1 euro.

 

Anyway, came across a real surprise, a table devoted to French HO scale trains. Where, without any haggling, I bought this Jouef locomotive for £20 and the chap had a little bit of track and showed me it working, head lights as well.

 

The stall.

 

The locomotive.

Anyway, back to the stall to eat humble pie and buy the Simca 1000.

Rather pathetically, I pretended that I only had 4 euros and 75 centimes in change.  By the time the chap's wife had counted out all the little coins (I had wanted to get rid of all these 1s and 2s) and announced to him that there was only 4.75 and not 5 euros, he just shrugged his shoulders and she did the deal. His parting remark was that the car would have cost 10 euros on the internet. I'm pretty sure that's not true but didn't have sufficient French to continue the debate. Anyway, we all shook hands afterwards.

Simca 1000.

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Currently listening to:

Alex Smoke:

I was lying in bed last night thinking about what were my 5 most listened to artists over the last 18 months or so. I'm pretty sure this is an accurate list:

1) Hot Chip
2) Eels
3) Alex Smoke
4) Teenage Fanclub
5) Chinese Man

Have managed to see the first two live in Glasgow this past year. Almost saw Alex Smoke but my leg was too painful, it was standing only at the venue and he was on last.  I couldn't wait long enough for him to come on stage. Teenage Fanclub are pretty well disbanded; and Chinese Man are from Marseilles and don't seem to come to the UK.

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Last night's dinner:

Cod in tomato sauce with rice

Cost per head with 2 euro bottle of wine: £6.50

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Coffee in paper cup:

In the afternoon, cycled out to nearby village of Messanges where I visited the local church and recited the 14 Stations of the Cross in the old silent building.

The church at Messanges

Jesus falls for a third time.

Then sat down at a little café for my daily session of Sartre with café crème. The coffee came in a paper cup (disappointing) but actually tasted OK. But, weather wise, it was far too hot to read - could hardly see the page it was so bright. So just dozed in the sun for 20 minutes.

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Cycle tracks in France:

All over France there are cycle tracks and I think the one I was on today was on old railway track. It's straight as a die and this building is right next to it at Vieux Boucau - it looks like an old railway station to me.