I had long looked out upon this place which I share with the teacher grant Lorenzo Clemente who has been unsurpassed levels of excellence.
occasion of the delivery Morante de la Puebla prize "Silver Mercurial ", by the gathering of Seville" The Mercurial ", awarded with the great communicator and poet Antonio García Barbeito, uttered these words in honor of the bullfighter.
spent a wonderful evening at the event were Lawrence and Paul Shoot who made the effort to come from Madrid and Caceres respectively.
Paul gave the Master with his "Morante de Snuff and gold", which is wonderful and can be purchased here: excellent gift now that by 2011 will ban everything.
MORANTE
Salve, Morante, I greet you as Caesars greets because in an amphitheater of Gaul this year have claimed the throne of eternal bullfighting, sitting in that seat of rushes on top of grace and charm, where before they sit Rafael El Gallo. Salve
Morante, morituri salutant you, we are going to die salute you, nothing will remain of our efforts, the consuming fire burn wind our words and our ashes will thoroughly purge time, we are just men, wake in the sea, shadows unable to fight sand timer with small words, but you, José Antonio, has stopped clocks, have abolished the time. You occupy a place among the chosen.
What should we say, humble scribes, if we see now appear among us Homer, Dante or Virgil in all its majesty, with all its greatness? Admiration paralyze us. Well today is no less sacred to talk about my fear of you, facing you, Morante de la Puebla.
For Leonardo, painting was a mentale thing, you know very well that bullfighting is in the head, as it is in memory of fans. As long as the world, there bullfighting, while there is bullfighting, cosa mentale Will endure Morante.
We die, José Antonio, but you do not and that's why we're going to die salute you, because you've seen walking one afternoon in April with life thrown over the hood to the width of the black pigsty Plaza of Seville, like all the pens of all arenas of the world communicates with Hades, Hell to descend only the elect, and we've seen out fuchsia orchids risen between each May that turn on the Plaza de Las Ventas, as does Ceres when he visits his daughter Persephone, full of prairie gentian yellow roses and mimosas where the bull falls asleep in the spring.
my words not come out, almost sacrilegious, José Antonio, yielded only an admiration of fans who follow you into the streets and who is enraptured by your art, also, will I be too noticeable? I'm going crazy every time you do the little walk. But the proven fact that there has been no history of bullfighting in the past ten figures who have left bright comet trail and you're one of them, José Antonio, touched by grace, chosen of the gods.
Receiving this gift is a burden and is a tremendous responsibility to Morante that will profile the history, like the kings and emperors on coins, Morante overlaps the real flesh and blood, which must support an his cloak and fire crutch Elf and the mystical rapture of value.
Today we celebrate the man and the bullfighter, but late in this room the sacred memory of the heroes.
understand this is very difficult, I think it must be too complex for you to take your human form, but you're a straight man, humble, intelligent, we have seen in the square is where you see men. Recently in an interview I was asked if the bullfighting art, do not you just a "yes", you said "yes, when it manifests in its fullness." This is deeper than it seems, these days of siege and demolition of the party, you point the way to excellence and the liturgy, the place of ritual and beauty. Perfection. Because bullfighting can be many things, a dance, a fight, a game, but certain chosen ones chosen for certain bulls come together to build, at a time that is out of time, in a perpetual present, the most beautiful poem made of light, blood, color, life and death.
I build my words with a short theory about your art, our admiration is born not only irrational unconditional faith, born of the knowledge of the party, every night, of all places for which you have followed.
The modern bullfighting before the vertical flat shoes-with its ravages and its technical achievements, born with Joselito, Belmonte and Rafael el Gallo when it occurs, In addition, the linkage of bullfighting to the arts and philosophy in the platinum age of English culture. I think
Morante is an ocean at the confluence of three rivers: the concept of bullfighting in the nature of Juan Belmonte agony, with which it shares Seriousness and absorption, we have seen in their tragic struggle against hell's door kneeling toriles an April afternoon in Seville or the running of the Charity of Madrid in which he saw happen one after another, until the last, glorious, full litter bulls that fought Geryon Hercules. And yet, in both cases we finally appeared in Joselito transverberado: in that historic afternoon Seville was the bull with one hand veronicas so low that seemed powerful forehands, implemented by the immense wisdom of Joseph who is always in the knowledge of his crutch.
remember the evening of the Charity saw Morante, dear Antonio Barbeito, and the Cristo de la Piedad the Marketplace among banderilleros, was thus broken into the afterlife and shining out to give artistic value to the mystery of living with death and the crutch in his hand. Joselito which in its glory.
Morante, and that afternoon, is also the purest banderillero, their power in the flags is to Joselito because it makes the classic sort out walking the face of bull, but when you run the two-flavor to dodge as old, could only be Rafael El Gallo, the divine bald invention three quarters of modern luck with the supreme grace of Andalucia ..
José Antonio Morante de la Puebla: the Holy Trinity of Bullfighting, transfigured in Madrid and Seville.
When I smoke a cigar to Morante, a bullfighter dream overseas, for example on the afternoon of golden honey and last Easter Sunday, thousands of pigeons called the laurel for the bullfighter, and a goldsmith magic had built up very slowly, in his small workshop albero and grace, a slow piece of remembrance, a gentle guajira rocking on his crutch with a baroque fairy embroidered by Rodríguez Ojeda backstage. Everything was fine, everything slow, like a loom. And in that mysterious compass, and at that precise timing and in the eternal insolence can numb the time were former bullfighters old galleons and foreign music and flowers and remote. Because, as opposed to the horns of a tame death revealed asleep again-Resurrection-the bottom of the dilemma: Is it possible to prohibit the beauty?
José María Jurado
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