S/T.1970-71
Incomprendida, tratando de manterse nos parámetros dunha nai normal, por
dentro, Diane sentía que os seus medos e depresións ían afundíndoa cada vez
máis, aínda que xa dende o ano 1958 o seu traballo dá unha viraxe radical
retratando con crueza a sociedade marxinal, na busca do contraste entre dous
mundos que viven no mesmo espazo, forzando o choque coa normalidade ao
mostrarnos un mundo de dor. Séntese soa e busca apoio, pero os seus amigos non
a toman en serio, ata que decide suicidarse no verán de 1971, na estación do
ano que menos lle gustaba, o verán. Aínda que as fotos nunca apareceron, corre o rumor de que retratou a súa
propia morte, (na bañeira mentres se desangraba rodeada de barbitúricos)
quizais nun último e desesperado intento de retratar a saída dese mundo
prefabricado, un mundo no que Diane Arbus, se negou
a vivir.
S/T. 1970-1971
O seu irmán, o poeta e escritor Howard Nemerov, adicoulle este poema, tras a morte da fotógrafa.
To D- dead by her own hand
My dear, I wonder if before the end
You ever thought about a childen’s game-
I’m sure you must have played it too- in which
You ran along a narrow a garden wall
Pretending it to be a mountain ledge
So steep a snowy darkness fell away
On either side to deeps invisible;
And when you felt your balance being lost
You jumped because you feared to fall, and thought
For only one instant: That was when I died.
That was a life ago. And now you’ve gone,
Who would no longer play the grown-ups’game
Where, balanced on the ledge above the dark,
you go on running and you don’t look down,
Nor ever jump because you fear to fall.
You ever thought about a childen’s game-
I’m sure you must have played it too- in which
You ran along a narrow a garden wall
Pretending it to be a mountain ledge
So steep a snowy darkness fell away
On either side to deeps invisible;
And when you felt your balance being lost
You jumped because you feared to fall, and thought
For only one instant: That was when I died.
That was a life ago. And now you’ve gone,
Who would no longer play the grown-ups’game
Where, balanced on the ledge above the dark,
you go on running and you don’t look down,
Nor ever jump because you fear to fall.
Poema traducido ao castelán en:http://sientateyobserva.wordpress.com/2010/03/05/poema-de-howard-nemerov-a-su-hermana-diane-arbus/
Máis información na rede: http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Arbus
http://www.librodenotas.com/almacen/Archivos/004030.html
http://le-criticon.blogspot.com.es/2008/10/patrona-de-los-freaks.html
Máis información na rede: http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Arbus
http://www.librodenotas.com/almacen/Archivos/004030.html
http://le-criticon.blogspot.com.es/2008/10/patrona-de-los-freaks.html
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