tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53576885883096281702024-02-20T20:08:35.863-08:00Carmen AlvarCarmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-21144357147824391922011-11-27T04:09:00.001-08:002011-11-27T04:11:53.673-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Imágenes del interior de la carátula de : "Arando vertederos"- Iratxo</div>
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gracias gracias gracias : <a href="http://iratxo.org/">http://iratxo.org/</a></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-6385251834023163552011-11-25T12:47:00.001-08:002011-11-25T12:51:31.724-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"What will happen now?</div>
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Everyone's gone to the moon</div>
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there's nobody left</div>
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everyone's gone to the moon"</div>
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Canción: "Everyone's gone to the moon" Nina Simone</div>
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Obra: Sin título I, stencil: plantilla y spray negro</div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-13985881393666337702011-06-08T02:49:00.000-07:002011-06-08T02:54:51.504-07:00¿Y LA JUVENTUD?<span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0AvqloQs5Cb_W2qTMsfn1jnzArcr6DsHpBlL8d5jScuvWHGz9_F6h1LW9DulisyMOyPNHswxzpNBGm8d2Z2PtaPxdHIC8wqOsCY1Y0yDkf8icT-fHEiH4CacKox95xHD0fXyiXwGFVI/s1600/DSC00208.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0AvqloQs5Cb_W2qTMsfn1jnzArcr6DsHpBlL8d5jScuvWHGz9_F6h1LW9DulisyMOyPNHswxzpNBGm8d2Z2PtaPxdHIC8wqOsCY1Y0yDkf8icT-fHEiH4CacKox95xHD0fXyiXwGFVI/s320/DSC00208.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615784558257938674" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; "><table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="80%" style="text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="font-size: 11pt; font-weight: bold; "><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, 'Sans Serif'; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; ">La vejez en los pueblos.<br />El corazón sin dueño.<br />El amor sin objeto.<br />La hierba, el polvo, el cuervo.<br />¿Y la juventud?</p><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, 'Sans Serif'; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; ">En el ataúd.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, 'Sans Serif'; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; ">El árbol, solo y seco.<br />La mujer, como un leño<br />de viudez sobre el lecho.<br />El odio, sin remedio.<br />¿Y la juventud?</p><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, 'Sans Serif'; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; ">En el ataúd.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, 'Sans Serif'; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; ">Texto: La vejez en los pueblos de Miguel Hernández</p><p style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, 'Sans Serif'; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; ">Imagen: acrílico</p></td></tr></tbody></table></span></span>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-16097697833958680632011-06-08T02:41:00.000-07:002011-06-08T02:46:50.497-07:00NO ME DA LA GANA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCbOzUxRiv8tZ8pO8qPsTSa3QRt1lR5RL6z1N6P7Dh-SJSde-EAy09W2Lp3B9meIV34behbpWr_e5Nc0OsMHb3oQVn_6qfUv6vxlBWuuxE-jlW99JS7VXWFJHN6j-9OfO54KW02yoXWU/s1600/DSC00609.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCbOzUxRiv8tZ8pO8qPsTSa3QRt1lR5RL6z1N6P7Dh-SJSde-EAy09W2Lp3B9meIV34behbpWr_e5Nc0OsMHb3oQVn_6qfUv6vxlBWuuxE-jlW99JS7VXWFJHN6j-9OfO54KW02yoXWU/s320/DSC00609.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615782102674975170" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: small; ">No me da la gana de escribir cordura, de adornar insultos, de adorar ni cielo ni bandera, </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: small; "><div style="text-align: center;">Y no me da la gana de caer de pie, de soñar solo dormido, de querer lo que no es mio, de ponerles buena cara..." </div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial; font-size: small; ">"NO ME DA LA GANA"-Iratxo (acuarela de interior del libreto de Arando vertederos)</span></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-37748418181034242492010-08-16T06:37:00.000-07:002010-08-16T06:53:11.822-07:00NOW I SING THE BLUES<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61lGGfSYC3CcBo54Si3G_RIQz-j_M-FQWIvzv1ok_HDUyJmzzxs7duSymfozginjWMJt4IBUu627UkUG2z_WBUc6EvSd_tdgTkwj8W4OPyevhQs0iQEPIQUSyw51RkL8duRgDt8ugirk/s1600/Dibujo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61lGGfSYC3CcBo54Si3G_RIQz-j_M-FQWIvzv1ok_HDUyJmzzxs7duSymfozginjWMJt4IBUu627UkUG2z_WBUc6EvSd_tdgTkwj8W4OPyevhQs0iQEPIQUSyw51RkL8duRgDt8ugirk/s320/Dibujo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506001706909284994" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(60, 60, 60); line-height: 17px; font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><b>Para la libertad me desprendo a balazos</b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(60, 60, 60); line-height: 17px; font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b>de los que han revolcado su estatua por el lodo.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Y me desprendo a golpes de mis pies, de mis brazos,</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>de mi casa, de todo.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Porque donde unas cuencas vacías amanezcan,</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>ella pondrá dos piedras de futura mirada</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>y hará que nuevos brazos y nuevas piernas crezcan</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>en la carne talada.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Retoñarán aladas de savia sin otoño</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>reliquias de mi cuerpo que pierdo en cada herida.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Porque soy como el árbol talado, que retoño:</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>porque aún tengo la vida.</b></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Para la libertad (fragmento)- Miguel Hernández</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Y llegó ese día en el que me tengo que desprender de ellos</div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-12874689661742880142010-06-26T11:18:00.000-07:002010-06-26T11:26:08.637-07:00'CAUSE FALLING IN LOVE JUST MAKES ME BLUE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wqhBK90NyGmTaKJHUPc9XBt-0zF41DJI7Ak2j_cu1VNROT2v0RYBS7HNj6uMXdrnUGyg6ryd-DDpljg6BoTzNmgl1Fg7Qwz12lCLNB7oQ8Vgwqlo1w7VLbC_jstK7cRqo3qKoyoCjOo/s1600/DSC09218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wqhBK90NyGmTaKJHUPc9XBt-0zF41DJI7Ak2j_cu1VNROT2v0RYBS7HNj6uMXdrnUGyg6ryd-DDpljg6BoTzNmgl1Fg7Qwz12lCLNB7oQ8Vgwqlo1w7VLbC_jstK7cRqo3qKoyoCjOo/s320/DSC09218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487148603702801010" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "><div style="text-align: center;">Trompetista Jerry González</div></span> <span style="font-weight:bold;"><div style="text-align: center;">Acrílico sobre cartulina 2009</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Well I hope that I don't fall in love with you</div><div style="text-align: center;">'Cause falling in love just makes me blue,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well the music plays and you display your heart for me to see</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well the room is crowded, there's people everywhere</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I wonder, should I offer you a chair?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well if you sit down with this old clown, take that frown and break it,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Before the evening's gone away, I think that we could make it,</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can see that you are lonesome just like me, and it being late,</div><div style="text-align: center;">You'd like some some company,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well I've had two, I look at you, and you look back at me...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(I<i> hope I don't fall in love with you</i>-Tom Waits)</div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-6860848991280808212010-05-30T11:13:00.000-07:002010-05-30T11:27:29.926-07:00ESOS PLIEGUES<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-lv6Gy-Kn4h22pvPQGyXZWoJJRecMNrENNyChIcHp0iIWpWJNzGX5v5id4pHb9pAciodcgUIjjq-rAE82mwIdQerfCPj9U0MkV9tw-6ZnSTK9SHD_GbgbI0BmStV1gt9vfLYJoAgmtc/s1600/DSC08203.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-lv6Gy-Kn4h22pvPQGyXZWoJJRecMNrENNyChIcHp0iIWpWJNzGX5v5id4pHb9pAciodcgUIjjq-rAE82mwIdQerfCPj9U0MkV9tw-6ZnSTK9SHD_GbgbI0BmStV1gt9vfLYJoAgmtc/s320/DSC08203.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477129300123072466" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />He llegado a obsesionarme, sin llegar al extremo de que nos veamos todos lo días, pero una vez al mes si que podemos pasar un día entero juntos. Es su color, sus curvas, su paso del tiempo, su reticencia a mostrarme el interior, pero sus pliegues...ay, sus pliegues.<br /><br />Rayuela- Julio Cortázar<br /><br />Esos pliegues de la vida, comprendés, esas inesperadas mostraciones de algo que uno no se había sospechado y que de golpe ponen todo en crisis.Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-78103274727135264522010-04-25T00:38:00.000-07:002010-04-25T00:46:39.112-07:00ADIVINA ADIVINANZA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljcZgGk_c-ks_gb4r8sSV_VNJHd2_toxVK9cG1rCkvhb_gFs65lRiO0TSVFt4cy1Fvzu5BYsXXUHMwp1bOMIFs_ESmyiQAhA-0M_HItdxKBoMoqU0coXJf8WmkpwmzSwO1bpQe-9qf9A/s1600/DSC08342.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljcZgGk_c-ks_gb4r8sSV_VNJHd2_toxVK9cG1rCkvhb_gFs65lRiO0TSVFt4cy1Fvzu5BYsXXUHMwp1bOMIFs_ESmyiQAhA-0M_HItdxKBoMoqU0coXJf8WmkpwmzSwO1bpQe-9qf9A/s320/DSC08342.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463976435127408002" /></a><br /><br />Ese día el mar estaba un poco revuelto, las olas movían de un lado a otro una estrella que se había caído del cielo la noche anterior. Intentaba ver dónde había tierra pero los rayos de sol la cegaban. Se pasó así días y noches contemplando a sus hermanas que parecían estar con ella pero eran solo el reflejo.No sabía si prefería llegar a la orilla o quedarse en el mar para siempre, se decidió por la segunda, por el azul prusia, lo más parecido a su inmensa casa.Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-73965534882426436862010-03-04T01:03:00.000-08:002010-03-04T01:06:41.717-08:00<div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8EkLlmhxP7YCIfgIb2XKamEWPoEQB0Px5yH1hc-Ee0qkLakNPTPUwOhKYgMZgPUikOeET8ZAKnNB5sKg2yZ11Ah8llb7eWST11EOwvhM7CMoptAjRyY7T2DxQ50SJ_HV5qBoNmX_9KaY/s1600-h/DSC08025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444701802313278850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8EkLlmhxP7YCIfgIb2XKamEWPoEQB0Px5yH1hc-Ee0qkLakNPTPUwOhKYgMZgPUikOeET8ZAKnNB5sKg2yZ11Ah8llb7eWST11EOwvhM7CMoptAjRyY7T2DxQ50SJ_HV5qBoNmX_9KaY/s320/DSC08025.JPG" border="0" /></a><strong></strong></div><div align="center">Acrílico y grafito sobre lienzo-2006</div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong> FLY TOMORROW-John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers</strong></div><div align="center"><strong></strong> </div><div align="center"><strong>Got to fly tomorrow</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Got to pack my gear</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Re-adjust my mind</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>My time is near</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Fly tomorrow</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Got to pack up my gear</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Fly tomorrow</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Now my time is drawing near</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Fly tomorrow</strong></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-9686530907776908772010-02-08T12:59:00.000-08:002010-02-08T13:12:15.771-08:00Elephant on parade<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJ4BbMuj0LdyMfTAXpZjJmOnHoWxjALNNfDmgKp6cS17eozbddsGU0KJGxVNa-UyG4nJY_ipsZElCVyTmZe3jrk2U0b3pPmBuSxCDUfBbSx6ZDzQKnBFiBQNkjSKp52sdjKInM_Kv4mQ/s1600-h/elefante+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435981366079732962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJ4BbMuj0LdyMfTAXpZjJmOnHoWxjALNNfDmgKp6cS17eozbddsGU0KJGxVNa-UyG4nJY_ipsZElCVyTmZe3jrk2U0b3pPmBuSxCDUfBbSx6ZDzQKnBFiBQNkjSKp52sdjKInM_Kv4mQ/s320/elefante+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> <strong> <span style="font-family:verdana;"> <span style="color:#ffffff;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Pink</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">elephant</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">on</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">parade</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Dumbo</span>)</span></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffffff;">Yo no soy un animal!!!Yo soy un ser humano!</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffffff;">yo... soy...un hombre! (El hombre elefante-David <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lynch</span>)</span></strong></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-4682752160993114182010-01-09T06:37:00.000-08:002010-01-09T06:49:42.130-08:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKk3MZugfsyoT0kND9-O5Jn-gmot22sMnaoC0kjUiYd96x2PSaukjNYhIVoxcXJjqGy7gwMz4vlzWdUjQ2gaTxZ0UDQOCdd8_Sfqpe-aQzoGh5ugMA8Y5REPWrARrLYP6IgPDLXiUC3Q/s1600-h/01-Jenaro.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424749246948808930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKk3MZugfsyoT0kND9-O5Jn-gmot22sMnaoC0kjUiYd96x2PSaukjNYhIVoxcXJjqGy7gwMz4vlzWdUjQ2gaTxZ0UDQOCdd8_Sfqpe-aQzoGh5ugMA8Y5REPWrARrLYP6IgPDLXiUC3Q/s320/01-Jenaro.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>LA CERTEZA DEL GIRASOL-Jenaro Talens</strong></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><strong>ACEPTAR A SABIENDAS, SIN QUE IMPORTE EL CÓMO</strong></div><div align="left">Nunca el dolor, ni lágrimas que fluyan como cantos rodados en el lecho de un río. Decir sólo las huellas que el dolor inscribe, sin melancolía. Y a solas, con la música donde reposa el tiempo y su memoria, oír el ritmo de las estaciones, el palpitar de sus burbujas sobre la superficie del silencio, sabiéndome mortal.<br /></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-8599075059306374612009-12-31T03:09:00.000-08:002010-01-09T06:37:05.972-08:00En la carretera<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQlZGdO_LcRW5iRHqdC5sq98NJIZVhcejLGRkdsTM3gyJbB4yqZBuaWAhM3GquZs7B6B7APLodAlcUs5C2asxWIEbEdULIgm6h2P2N7abozhWehyphenhyphenRsc5khPQCu-Wlc7VrZ1Pdz-xRq8w/s1600-h/DSC04360.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421357014366176498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcQlZGdO_LcRW5iRHqdC5sq98NJIZVhcejLGRkdsTM3gyJbB4yqZBuaWAhM3GquZs7B6B7APLodAlcUs5C2asxWIEbEdULIgm6h2P2N7abozhWehyphenhyphenRsc5khPQCu-Wlc7VrZ1Pdz-xRq8w/s320/DSC04360.JPG" border="0" /></a> "En la carretera"- Lápiz y collage</div><div align="center"><br /><div align="center"><strong>Childhood living is easy to do </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>The things you wanted I bought them for you </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Graceless lady, you know how I am </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>You know I can't let you slide through my hands </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>wild horses, couldn't drag me away </strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">(<em>Wild horses-</em> Rolling Stones)</div></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-21492750717597167952009-11-29T01:25:00.000-08:002009-11-29T01:29:26.797-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1J9xdtDyHWAo7o0c1_D1VArbqwAv3c_ayrayvqj2amHfFuzRtdMIx5vFJiLjXvy9oogMbummbzWnNWvzeIV5xScvAR0ZfAlcPdRLnbHZjanNQkh_jsQUODDSg2EYVnKsT5z0VvUJJfU/s1600/DSC07965.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409454586988707698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS1J9xdtDyHWAo7o0c1_D1VArbqwAv3c_ayrayvqj2amHfFuzRtdMIx5vFJiLjXvy9oogMbummbzWnNWvzeIV5xScvAR0ZfAlcPdRLnbHZjanNQkh_jsQUODDSg2EYVnKsT5z0VvUJJfU/s320/DSC07965.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p> "San Cristóbal Industrial" 2009</p><p> Acrílico sobre lienzo </p><p> <strong><span style="font-family:arial;"> A cuadro terminado no le mires los dientes</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:arial;"> Mi estudio se inunda, ¿alguna sugerencia?</span></strong></p>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-66399442077938726342009-11-01T03:06:00.000-08:002009-11-01T03:18:53.492-08:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgOXGVxYA7ZJfOi1XwQqKX9wbVKtXCCDG74t0tzGva65wl264tWBw87tUOcd9AimGx2Av_zS_2z2iJ2xt5pisS9KQya5okOcq3Cew5j1RUpuiyWuwIb4y9-ivtc56Kja6UX07QP_BuNQ/s1600-h/ch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399092404244316050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgOXGVxYA7ZJfOi1XwQqKX9wbVKtXCCDG74t0tzGva65wl264tWBw87tUOcd9AimGx2Av_zS_2z2iJ2xt5pisS9KQya5okOcq3Cew5j1RUpuiyWuwIb4y9-ivtc56Kja6UX07QP_BuNQ/s320/ch.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><br /></strong><div align="center">Cause they'll be rockin on bandstand</div><div align="center">In Philadelphia P.A. </div><div align="center">Deep in the heart of Texas </div><div align="center">And 'round the Frisco Bay </div><div align="center">All over St. Louis </div><div align="center">Way Down in New Orleans </div><div align="center">All the Cats wanna dance </div><div align="center">with Sweet Little Sixteen ...</div><br /><br /><br /><em>"Sweet little sixteen"-</em>Chuck Berry<br /></div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-50690757627190332882009-10-19T01:32:00.000-07:002009-10-19T01:50:41.961-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLTKkZbWHnk5HmWniBvEiqkYg8rrDKPoMNyZKMakT2o-bUxhGXgL0R4WSHy-aVgO8ZvjsN4_R1m23S2npILfToBGOYDm-3q0sfaMSYmoeAdLneC6qW1ZtBLAAa6wLb_-mZMnP14GBbdA/s1600-h/DSC07509.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLTKkZbWHnk5HmWniBvEiqkYg8rrDKPoMNyZKMakT2o-bUxhGXgL0R4WSHy-aVgO8ZvjsN4_R1m23S2npILfToBGOYDm-3q0sfaMSYmoeAdLneC6qW1ZtBLAAa6wLb_-mZMnP14GBbdA/s1600-h/DSC07509.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394226748419434578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLTKkZbWHnk5HmWniBvEiqkYg8rrDKPoMNyZKMakT2o-bUxhGXgL0R4WSHy-aVgO8ZvjsN4_R1m23S2npILfToBGOYDm-3q0sfaMSYmoeAdLneC6qW1ZtBLAAa6wLb_-mZMnP14GBbdA/s320/DSC07509.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><div align="left"><em><strong></strong></em> </div><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong></strong></em><br /><em><strong>Las babas del diablo</strong>-</em> <strong>Julio Cortázar</strong><br /><br />Nunca se sabrá cómo hay que contar esto, si en primera persona o en segunda,usando la tercera del plural o inventando continuamente formas que no servirán de nada. Si se pudiera decir: yo vieron subir la luna, o: nos me duele el fondo de los ojos, y sobre todo así: tú la mujer rubia eran las nubes que siguen corriendo delante de mis tus sus nuestros vuestros sus rostros. Qué diablos.Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357688588309628170.post-3286444739472126252009-10-18T04:03:00.000-07:002009-10-18T04:49:57.471-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42R1q00F4gAleJkLmRxVXgS278VC55flZUSDi1yqvgqShzD7bzp_uoRsbHBjKHKxrsUOTZoLfa-EhFc-bnYAIF1uJ3Kx1B0XpGyJLp-BF4-WhW5mogxt6w99JJD9h_vK4HXy6GkDTl9k/s1600-h/israel+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393896373243360850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42R1q00F4gAleJkLmRxVXgS278VC55flZUSDi1yqvgqShzD7bzp_uoRsbHBjKHKxrsUOTZoLfa-EhFc-bnYAIF1uJ3Kx1B0XpGyJLp-BF4-WhW5mogxt6w99JJD9h_vK4HXy6GkDTl9k/s320/israel+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><em>Continente perdido. </em>Natan Zach Edit. Visor Poesía<br /><div> </div><div align="left">SÉ PRUDENTE</div><div align="right"> </div><div align="left">Sé prudente. Abre tu vida sólo</div><div align="left">al viento que ha tocado</div><div align="left">la caricia de la distancia.</div><div align="left">Sufre la ausencia. Habla sólo en la noches</div><div align="left">de soledad. Conoce el día</div><div align="left">y la fecha, el momento y no supliques.</div><div align="left">Presta atención a lo inmóvil. Aprende a bendecir</div><div align="left">la sombra bajo la piel. No</div><div align="left">te escondas en palabras. Siéntate con el consejo de larvas,</div><div align="left">con la sabiduría del gusano. No esperes.</div>Carmen Alvarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10449135844822096895noreply@blogger.com0