On Writing with the Purpose of Sharing

The aspect of writing for a public with which I struggle the most, is the ability to “erase” the interlink between myself and my fruition, let it mold to others, according to their point of view, experience, and emotion, let others shape my words to their liking, in order for them to personally install a connection to the text, for it to become relatable.

Inexplicably, I find it really hard to disconnect from my creations, because, in a sense (in every sense possible), they have a little bit of me (the whole of me) in them. It would mean to alienate and abandon a part of myself which has been bound to me ever since it was born, leave to the judgement of others my fragile words, that are now no longer mine, but are possession of whoever reads them and connects with them. I find it difficult and nearly impossible, to share a text charged with personal sensations, and let others see through it, see through me. I myself am perhaps too afraid of seeing through me. This timidness, this extreme fear of feeling exposed, leads me to think that maybe, there are pieces of myself I should not share, because they might change the view others have of me, however, this is why I constantly push myself to do it. I force myself out my warm tavern of self-reassurance and acceptance, I let myself get hit by the outside cold.

From my Diary (Captured, a vision slipping away)

08/9/2024 (18:07)

- Writing this down quickly to not let it slip out my mind, the only object left for me to write with is a pencil, sorry.

Blue Moon - Paul Evans

In the strangest but truest way every version of myself exists inside my being and shapes it every day to be as it is. Every old version of me is stacked upon the latest, previous one as a brick of stone held in place by a batter of water, sand, and cement. I wake up and I'm new, reborn, and occasionally repulsed or resentful of the person I was before (yesterday).

On Freedom

'La Chèvre de M. Seguin': On Freedom

written by Vittoria Mariggiò

Freedom is surely a value that is worth fighting for, but is it worth the risk of death? Does freedom have a limit?

---

Goats - Eliphalet Frazer Andrews

Despite the common moral of  'fighting for freedom', an all American vision of life that prioritizes liberty, a popular story for children dismisses the meaning of death by freedom and portrays this value very differently. In "Lettres de mon moulin", Alphonse Daudet depicts the concept of freedom as a value to be cautious of.  La Chèvre de M. Seguin tells the story of a shepherd who loses all his goats in the same terrible way: due to the boredom of being confined to their enclosure, the goats decide to bite the rope that keeps them attached to it and flee to the mountains, only to get eaten by the wolf hiding in the nearby forest. Although this seems to be a banal story of a Provencal berger, it holds a great amount of meaning that is a peculiar reflection on freedom.

Daudet dedicates this particular short story to a lyrical poet called Pierre Gringoire (1475-1538); he mocks him for his choice of refusing the offer of becoming a reporter and following his dream of being a poet by addressing him with a sarcastic tone and pointing out his poverty:

"Comment? on t'offre une place de chroniqueur dans un bon journal de Paris, et tu as l'aplomb de refuser... mais regarde-toi, malheureux garçon!"

The author criticizes Gringoire for not wanting to leave his dream just to stabilize financially,
and he lectures him on the consequences of choosing freedom (cultivating his true passion even though it won't guarantee a secure future) over stability, certainty, security. Daudet narrates the story of M. Seguin’s goat, and clearly demonstrates Gringoire his realistic - if not visionary - ideal of prudence: one mustn’t leave certainty for the unknown, especially in the context of a complex society that requires particular financial needs.

While Daudet’s idea of freedom has a limit, as it must end with uncertainty, Gringoire’s idea of liberty is boundless, almost romantic. Freedom is worth the risk of death if it means indulging in a long-awaited, short-term sensation of sweet-tasting peace, and clinging to it as a last breath of fresh air. This vision is based on passion, and ambition, and curiosity, and zeal; these are the ingredients to the drive of an insatiable person, who essentially would do anything to keep their ardent fire burning. In Gringoire’s perspective, being eaten by the wolf would’ve been worth it. The feeling of freedom would have compensated the disappearance of his soul.

These are the two visions of freedom: the feeling of being satisfied and the urge to stop before the unknown, and the empty sensation in one’s stomach, impatient to be filled with glory. No, there isn’t a correct definition of freedom, but it could be seen as simply the right of being able to choose or not, in a sea of endless possibilities. I’ll repeat the questions I asked myself - only because it is in my nature to overcomplicate thoughts and concepts - so that you can ask them to yourself and get lost in the profoundness of life.

Is freedom worth the risk of death? or does it have a limit?

Diary Entry: Early Spring

16/01/24

Still Life with Strawberries - William Hammer (1874)

    Earlier today I was thinking about spring. The gentle blooming season is almost never praised enough for what it offers. I especially love the beginning of spring: the cool, chilly air and light breeze, the swaying trees, the warm sun rays, the feeling of carefreeness and hope in one's stomach, the jolly white butterflies, the sound of laughter, tasty cherries and sweet strawberries, golden and shiny locks of hair. The long awaited anticipation of summer, that swirly, bubbling sensation of longing. A time of waiting and hoping, a time of passage, a blooming flower. Happiness.

Is an Artist Born or Made?

 

Poetic Vision: The Aspect that Unites Every Artist

written by Vittoria Mariggiò

The Muses - Tintoretto (1578)

Is an artist born or made?

The question of a lifetime has been discussed over and over, without really coming to a conclusion. This mystery has always created chaos within society, but it could be unraveled by simply analyzing a characteristic that every artist shares. Poetic Vision (or Artistic Vision) is a term that describes a specific way to perceive the world, and it is an aspect that is unique to artists (writers, poets, painters, composers, choreographers, film directors…). Obviously, every person has their own vision of the world, which gives them a reason to act the way that they do. It is innate to have a certain perception of the world, and everyone's is different (that is why, in my opinion, peace could never exists in our world). But what separates this factor from the standard phenomenon, is the purpose of it. Poetic Vision is an animal being, living and breathing; it is the drive that permits the artist to create, it pushes the artist to constantly and restlessly produce, all with the sole purpose of bringing itself to life. The artist’s work springs from their vision, but at the same time, the product and the vision are the same. It is an never-ending, infinite-like circle that is difficult to understand if not directly felt, for it is a sensation. When Homer said: "Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices, who wandered full many ways after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy." (Odyssey, Book 1, Line 1), he was invoking a muse, asking for inspiration, because, whether it's called "the work of a muse" or "the product of a vision", that’s what this phenomenon is: a flash of instant inspiration. For an artist, it is not the creativity, but rather the vision. Creativity is nothing without the vision, that is why one might have many ideas but no concrete image of them. And the vision comes, it is unexpected and unpredictable, but it comes in a rush, ready to fade after a few moments, and it is an artist’s job to capture it and make the most of it. Poems and paintings and films and books and dances and music are only a glimpse of the artist’s mind, which is filled with boundless possibilities that cloud their mind and clog their pores. Trust me when I say, there is always more we want to say. There is always more to what we share, because behind every wonderful and masterful and meaningful piece of art, there is a vision that is violently pulsing in an artist’s soul, begging to come out.

Citations: 

Homer. The Odyssey with an English Translation by A.T. Murray, PH.D. in two volumes. Cambridge, MA., Harvard University Press; London, William Heinemann, Ltd. 1919. https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0136%3Abook%3D1%3Acard%3D1 

An Ode To The Moon

written by Vittoria Mariggiò

Sea View by Moonlight - Ivan Aivazovsky (1849)

O my beautiful moon,

my shining, gracefully delicate thing,

turn and show me,

the unseen,

those hidden flaws,

and unhinged truths,

you keep in the obscure.

O my beautiful moon,

my softest and most

precious beam,

turn and show me,

the hidden ire,

those fuming thoughts,

and shameful desires,

you keep in the dark.

O my beautiful moon,

my lovely creature of nature,

never cease to shine upon me,

so fair and unreachable

to burn my heart;

I watch the most heavenly miracle,

so far away.

I might let

the celestial blue of your eyes,

kill me slowly.

About Myself

Who is behind Carpe Noctem?

written by Vittoria Mariggiò

Mary Magdalene In The Cave - Hugues Merle (1868)

Welcome everyone!

My name is Vittoria and I'm a fifteen year old Italian girl who is passionate about literature. I dedicate my time to reading and writing, but in other words, my whole life revolves around the creation and appreciation of art and culture. On this page, you will see evaluations of novels and films, personal elaborations (poems, prose, articles and essays), diary entries and thoughts, quotes, paintings, any media you could  possibly think of relating to art. With this blog, I hope to reach a broader audience, and catch the attention of people who relate to my passions, as well as the interest of those who are curious enough to be willing to indulge in something new. Before starting to post twisted content without explanation, I must make a premise: I live for the dramatics. Please, don't remain stunned if you see some dark thoughts on here, I spontaneously exaggerate situations to make them match my vision, it's the poetic spirit - or is it?