One is straight away struck by the paucity of words availed to expound this chanced-upon poiesis born in the crevasses of cultural hybridity and nourished in the no man's lands of ascetic transmutation...

Peggy Guggenheim

I knew Peggy Guggenheim from Facchetti's place. She had recommended a painter to me with whom I became friends, and although very beautiful he was not a gigolo. Some time later when I spoke to her about him, she seemed to have lost all memory of him! Her collection is important and boring; it is the Ebbing Craft of painting: everything is there, very well indexed, but without soul.

J'ai connu Peggy Guggenheim chez Facchetti. Elle m'avait recommandé un peintre dont je suis devenu l'ami, mais quoique très beau il n'était pas gigolo; aussi Peggy ne savait plus qui il était quand je lui en parlais ! Sa collection est importante et ennuyeuse, c'est le Craft Ebbing de la peinture : tout y est, très bien répertorié, mais sans âme.
(Laubies, 2001.)

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