quarta-feira, 22 de outubro de 2008

CRÍTICA AO 59º SALÃO DE ABRIL NO TERMINAL DO SIQUEIRA


"No dia em que os teares tecerem sozinhos

e as cítaras tocarem sozinhas, o homem será livre”

Aristóteles, filósofo da Grécia Antiga.

Esta resenha pretende analisar as obras do 59º Salão de Abril - Mostra Nacional de Artes Visuais - Arte: Desejo e Resistência, realizado de 14/Out/08 a 23?Nov/08 dentro do Terminal de ônibus do Siqueira. O evento foi promovido pela SECULTFOR, orgão da Prefeitura Municipal de Fortaleza.

Teve a curadoria de Andrés I. M. Hérnandez, Ricardo Resende e Siegbert Franklin.

Esta resenha não intenta cobrir o evento como um todo, que se realizou em três lugares: o terminal de ônibus do Siqueira (na região sul de Fortaleza, área extremamente pobre), no terminal do ônibus do Papicú (na região leste de Fortaleza, a chamada área nobre da cidade) e no Centro de Referência do Professor (que fica no Centro da capital cearense).

Pretende-se aqui apenas analisar as obras expostas no Terminal de ônibus do Siqueira.

Fazer crítica de artes-plásticas é uma tarefa quase ingrata e quase inútil, quando se parte do pressuposto de que o crítico seria uma espécie de relações públicas a divulgar artistas (Terry Eagleton).A Tarefa se torna inútil, porque muitas vezes quando finalmente o leitor tem acesso a crítica, a exposição já tem saído de cartaz. Diferentemente da crítica literária. Quando examino a obra do poeta paulista Roberto Piva, por mais marginal que ele tenha sido um dia, rabiscando poemas em guardanapos de papel nos bares infectos da boêmia de São Paulo, hoje pode-se encontrar a obra do poeta transgressor quase toda editada ou relançada nas livrarias pela Editora Globo.

Já em se tratando de crítica de artes-plásticas temos uma série de problemas.

O primeiro deles:se a crítica não vier acompanhada de ilustrações, tudo ficará muito no plano da abstração. Além disso, no caso da arte contemporânea não basta apenas a crítica vir acompanhada de suas respectivas reproduções fotográficas. Já que na contemporaneidade as condições ambientais, ou até a ausência delas, faz parte do gesto artístico. Assim, não basta reproduzir os posteres fotográficos que ficaram fixados nas paredes de uma parte do terminal (Não informo o nome da artista porque não havia folder nem o monitor tinha o catálogo com o nome da mesma), pois quem sabe se o fato do deslocamento dos ônibus no interior do terminal, proporcionando momentos em que os pôsteres eram vistos e outros em que eram tapados 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pelos ônibus, não faz parte da intenção da artista? Ou seja, não seria aí também os motoristas de ônibus uma espécie de co-autores das obras? Seria difícil reproduzir isso em fotos.

Outro problema de se fazer crítica de artes-plásticas em comparação com a crítica literária: é que na crítica literária conto com o sossego de um escritório, de um quarto e de um livro que tiro ou recoloco na estante conforme a conveniência.

Já a crítica de artes-plásticas é extremamente desconfortável. Uma vez para cobrir uma exposição do Centro Cultural Banco do Nordeste, tive de ficar agachado ou sentado no chão enquanto preenchia meu caderno de anotações, pois as obras que estava analisando foram dispostas numa vitrine rente ao chão.

Nessa exposição em particular, no 1º dia em que fui vê-la, fui num horário próximo do rush e o terminal estava ficando muito cheio, esfumaçado e barulhento. No 2º dia em que fui num horário mais cedo, uma das vídeos-instalações apresentou problemas técnicos. E o vídeo não foi exibido e o monitor de TV estava desligado.

Tudo isso são imprevistos que o crítico literário, no conforto de sua casa e tomando seu café, nunca terá.

A 1ª obra analisada é do cearense Luiz Sales, cujo título é 8.É uam instalação usando a técnica da fotografia.

Num suporte de 200x400 cm, vemos duas fotografias justapostas. Numa delas é um clique fotográfico sobre uma cena banal no centro da cidade de Fortaleza: pessoas atravessando uma rua em frente ao Edifício Sulamérica. Tudo isso seria banal aqui, se o fotógrafo por um processo digital (tipo Photoshop) não tivesse tirado as cabeças e rostos dessas pessoas atravessando a rua. Causando um visível efeito de estranhamento. E na foto ao lado há um esboço de rosto feito em negro sobre fundo branco.

Quando vi os homens sem cabeça e sem rosto atravessando a rua, lembrei do conceito sociológico do sujeito sem rosto, sem identidade da pós-modernidade. E o esboço de rosto ao lado dessa foto, sugere um rosto sem traços identitários definidos, pois o rosto não exibe marcas de classe social, poder aquisitivo, faixa-etária, etnia e até gênero, o que nos sugere o conceito das identidades fluidas e líquidas de Zigmunt Bauman.

A 2ª obra analisada é Sem Título do cearense Caio Danieli. A técnica utilizada é a fotografia e impressão digital sobre tecido.

O monitor da exposição me informou algo curioso: a fotografia foi tirada numa câmera tipo pinhole, que são aquelas câmeras artesanais muito rudimentares, utilizadas por oficineiros para dar aulas de fotografia para alunos carentes que não tem dinheiro para comprar um câmera profissional.

O efeito plástico dessa foto foi muito bom. Devido a baixa qualidade e a baixa resolução, a imagem ficou com um efeito poroso, granulado.

E o que se vê é uma paisagem marinha bem comum aos fortalezenses. Nela aparece um pedaço da ponte dos Ingleses, também conhecida por Ponte Metálica. Justamente aquele pedaço em que o acesso do público é proibido; a ferrugem, a maresia, buracos na argamassa deixaram a edificação em ruínas.

Há algo de metáfora aqui. Trazer parte do oceano atlântico para dentro da região mais afastada do litoral de Fortaleza. Seria uma brincadeira do artista com aquela profecia de que o mar em 2012 vai atingir até a Serra do Maranguape, devido a um suposto cataclisma geológico, previsto por um pai-de-santo e que já faz parte do anedotário da cidade?

Pode também ser uma alusão a questão dos deslocamentos e das desterritorializações proporcionadas pela tecnologia. Pois os usuários do Terminal do Siqueira, que estão vendo a réplica daquela paisagem, poderão vê-la pessoalmente, pois do terminal há intinerários de ônibus que levam para Praia de Iracema.

Isso não seria possível antes do advento da civilização do automóvel, dos ônibus coletivos e da rodoviarização forçada da paisagem brasileira, depois do Governo Juscelino Kubtschek, totalmente submisso à indústria automobilística.

Enquanto na Europa as pessoas vão para o trabalho ou para o lazer através do transporte ferroviário, que polui bem menos e mata bem menos também.

A 3ª obra é do paranaense Charles Klitze: Revistimento/Reinvestimento em desenho de gênero II. Intervenção feita através da impressão de cartazes off-set.

Na obra vários cartazes com o mesmo motivo foram colados. Neles há um pugilista desferindo socos. Pode estar fazendo uma crítica à violência urbana que se multiplicou no cenário caótico das cidades. Sinalizando que vivemos numa era tensionada de conflitos.

Pode ser também uma paródia com o modismo do Muay-Thay, praticado tanto por gente séria, como por doidinhos que querem sair por aí dando porradas em homossexuais e empregadas domésticas, que esperam a condução na parada de ônibus. Falo em paródia, porque o traço utilizado nos remete ao universo das histórias em quadrinhos.

A 4ª obra analisada é a da cearense Cláudia Sampaio, que usou técnicas diversas como pintura direta na parede com pincel atômico, lápis, guache, colagens de recortes, detalhes fotográficos e objetos do cotidiano colados na parede.

A obra possui um texto verbal que sugere uma leitura, mas devido a disposição caótica intencional, o espectador fica sem a indicação de um percurso de leitura específico. Pois a cada momento que se tenta ler, a frase é interrompida por um desenho, ou por outra frase superposta em outra cor, a sugerir o estado emocional perturbado da artista.

A monitora explicou que a artista sofreu recentemente a experiência do luto com um parente e que parece ter havido violência sexual nesse homicídio.

A obra mostra elementos icônicos que sugerem cortes, rupturas, perdas, sobreposições. Há beleza nessa caos, mas também há dor.

A 5ª obra analisada é dos cearenses do Themis Memória: Uni-forme.É uma instalação em que há um relógio de ponto antigo, tv e dvd.

No primeiro dia em que fui ver a obra, o vídeo funcionava.

O que é a obra? Aparentemente um relógio de ponto, só que no lugar do relógio, foi colocado um monitor de tv que fica exibindo uma video-arte.

No 1º dia que fui consegui ver a vídeo-arte. E no 2º dia que fui com o caderno de anotações, o vídeo estava desligado por problemas técnicos.

Pelo que entendi Themis Memória não é uma pessoa, mas um grupo de artistas. O vídeo foi editado por Frederico Benevides e contou com a perfomance do seguinte elenco: David da Paz, Taya Lópis, Balbucio. Contou ainda com a parceria de João Paulo Ribeiro e Luiz Pratti.

A trilha-sonora é assinada por Narcílio Grud.

As fotografias presentes no vídeo são de João Wilke, Reginaldo Freitas e Haroldo Sabóia.

Vou descrever o que acontece com o espectador nessa obra. Ele chega e vê um relógio de ponto antigo analógico e um pequeno fichário antigo cheio de cartões de ponto usados.

No cartão está escrito: - Bata Ponto.

O verbo no imperativo sugere a atmosfera autoritária do mundo do trabalho.

Como o relógio de ponto é antigo, talvez a obra queira sugerir que estamos num mundo marcado pelo desemprego e que assim como o relógio de ponto, o trabalho é uma relíquia do passado.

Então se não temos mais o pelourinho \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\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moderno que é o relógio de ponto para nos atanazar, então seria o momento de comemorar a liberdade de um mundo sem trabalho e marcado pelo ócio? (Bob Black em Abolição do Trabalho). Errado.Não é o que sugere o tom e a trilha-sonora da vídeo-arte. Nela pessoas se movimentam em cima de um palco repetindo movimentos mecânicos, como se batessem ponto, com uma iluminação sombria a sugerir o ambiente insalubre das fábricas, que um dia o homem foi condenado a suportar e que hoje foi expulso delas pelas inovações tecnológicas, pela automação do trabalho e por certos modelos de gestão da cadeia produtiva, como o toyotismo, que provocaram o enxugamento do quadro de pessoal.

A vídeo-arte tem interferências de fotografias e recortes de anúncios publicitários, sugerindo que esse homem pós-moderno está angustiado não por ter perdido o trabalho ou por nunca ter ter conseguido se inserir no mercado de trabalho, mas por não ter como consumir as mercadorias que lhe são oferecidas diariamente pela publicidade e que ele desesperado não tem poder aquisitivo para comprá-las.

Outras reflexões também são sugeridas aqui. Mesmo que o homem pós-moderno esteja desempregado em grandes contigentes urbanos ou rurais, será que sua psiquê está desempregada? Ou para ser mais claro, depois dos 200 anos da Revolução Industrial, que trouxe outro uso do tempo e do espaço terrestres, que trouxe outros ritmos e pulsações...pois o homem que passou 200 anos cumprindo horários, prazos, obedecendo ordens e produzindo mercadorias nos ritmos frenéticos ditados pelas leis implacáveis da ecomomia de mercado, estaria esse homem preparado para esse repentino e compulsório excesso de tempo livre, provocado pelo desemprego estrutural?

Vamos esmiuçar mais este raciocínio. Há 200 anos que o homem vinha sendo usado como engrenagem de uma grande máquina de produção.Sendo controlado pela produção, ao invés de controlá-la como tentaram fazer na revolução de caráter anarquista na Espanha de 1936 ou como sugere a crítica do fetichismo da mercadoria da obra do filósofo alemão Karl Marx. O homem se via pautado pelos ritmos cadenciados e militarizados do trabalho, ora no taylorismo ora no fordismo. De uma certa forma, a instrumentalização do ser humano provocada pelas necessidades do produtivismo capitalista marcou também a subjetividade do ser humano. Tanto que o o ser humano trouxe certos hábitos da fábrica ou do escritório para sua vida pessoal.

Hoje,por exemplo, quando alguém termina um namoro com outro pessoa, há até a expressão: \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\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Eu dei as contas de fulano ontem na festa\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\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O conceito cínico networking, que consiste na necessidade das pessoas atualmente serem sempre simpáticas, ficarem mostrando os dentes o tempo todo e evitarem certos atritos ou conversas mais profundas com os colegas e amigos, no intuito de que esse colega ou amigo não pode ser descartado, porque pode estar nele a dica ou a indicação do próximo emprego ou do próximo bico ou trabalho temporário, que levará a comprar aquela TV de 29 polegas de Plasma, que está cientificamente comprovada que ninguém pode passar sem ela. Assim, o networking difundido por conceitos como DATA-MARKETING, veiculados por revistas idiotas como a Você S/a, nada mais é do que Roberto Kurz chamou sarcasticamente de relações de freguesia. Então, o que seriam as amizades hoje em dia? Oportunidades de negócio.

Assim, insistimos, o homem pode até estar desempregado, mas sua psiquê continua batendo cartões de ponto em todos os lugares.

Para terminar a análise da obra do relógio de ponto, vale ainda destacar que de cada lado do relógio de ponto há uma gravura de uma mulher nua pintada em branco sobre fundo azul. Eletrodos de uma máquina foram instalados em sua vagina e em seu cérebro, constituindo uma sinistra simbiose homem-máquina, sugerida por certos modelos de gestão de trabalho como o toyotismo, que liquidou totalmente a vida familiar dos trabalhadores, que ainda permanecem empregados - falo aqui da nefasta prática da folga cinco por um.

A mulher na gravura parece emitir um espasmo de dor e os traços lembram algo da ficção-científica Blade Runner ou do artista Moebius, nesse pequeno quadro sádico em que se tornou o capitalismo transnacional vitorioso com as bençãos das esquerdas e direitas administradoras.

Na 6ª obra analisada, a paulista Heloísa Etelvina: Filatelista, feita com gravura - 1,92x3,10 cm, selos fictícios, tipografias e carimbos compõe um painel que de longe lembraria algo na confluência entre o rigor do construtivismo geomético e o abstracionismo. De perto, o espectador ao se aproximar percebe que há selos que tem letras, sílabas, que remeteriam a uma língua que tivesse fonética, morfologia e até sintaxe, mas que não tem semântica. Posto que as letras e sílabas não formam frases nem textos. Ou formam palavras de uma língua inexistente.

Talvez Etelvina queira referir-se a uma época, em que o bombardeio de informações diárias proporcionado pelos meios de comunicação de massa, mais tumultuam a mente do receptor, do que informam. Ou então, seria uma alusão a partir do significante do selo ficticio de que as comunicações atualmente estão mais cheias de ruído, do que de sentido.

Na 7ª obra Antonio Rocha: Seres Naturais (o monitor não soube informar a naturalidade do artista) feita de gravuras com tinta serigráfica num suporte de tecido. As cores utilizadas foram jogadas em jorros furiosos e explosivos sobre a tela num fundo branco. Os matizes foram o preto, o branco, o cinza e o magenta. E o efeito plástico produzido nos remete a um expressionismo abstrato que resolve cantar o disforme, o grotesco, o feio e o sujo realçado pelo excesso de preto, a simular talvez a fuligem presente em terminais de ônibus.

Na 8ª obra da cearense Ivanize, a artista usou a técnica de lambe-lambe, pintura sobre papel.

Foram coladas nas paredes do terminal. Há uma adolescente colegial. Há uma concha gigante de que saem pernas femininas e há uma mulher com mala querendo sair, migrar para algum lugar, mas dos seus pés brotam raízes que a impedem de sair.

Que percurso de leituras podemos fazer desses significantes? A associação com o universo feminino é automática. A mulher-menina adolescente na escola, que deve ir à escola para aprender a ser uma mãe ou trabalhadora eficiente e submissa. A mulher escondida numa concha gigante que poderia ser o útero, mas também pode ser o ostracismo imposto à mulher durante muitos anos e uma mulher que finalmente resolve deixar a casa do pai, do marido, do companheiro que a oprime, mas que ao mesmo tempo, já se enraizou no que é familiar, ainda que ruim e teme a insegurança e a imprevisibilidade do desconhecido.

E por último a obra do cearense Gentil Barreira: Espelho Meu II.Fotografia - 200x 90, impressão espelhada adesivada sobre PVC.

Em duas fotos um homem e uma mulher de corpo inteiro vestidos e mal iluminados.

A iluminação é suficiente apenas para mostrar os contornos do corpo e certas partes do colorido das roupas.A impressão que se tem é de que estão num provador de roupas dessas lojas de departamento.

Os rostos de ambos estão escurecidos.

A pergunta que a obra de Gentil Barreira nos faz é: qual o contorno do homem e da mulher contemporâneos? E se o refletor se acendesse sobre seus rostos, o que veríamos? Que tipo de homem e que tipo de mulher a pós-modernidade produziu em meio ao patriarcado judaico-cristão agonizante, como se depreende da obra de João Silvério Trevisan ( Seis balas num buraco só: A Crise do masculino - Ed. Record), da feminista alemã Roswita Scholz e as seduções da sociedade de consumo, da indústria de comésticos como se depreende da obra de Gilles Lipovetsky?

Termino aqui minha contribuição crítica.Não quiz com ela encerrar um debate, mas provocar seu início.

Charles Odevan Xavier

Mestrando em Letras pela UFC.

terça-feira, 9 de setembro de 2008

EL 'GRAN NIVELADOR', EL CRISTIANISMO; Y SUS REFORMADORES, LOS DIFERENTES 'ISMOS'.


EL 'GRAN NIVELADOR', EL CRISTIANISMO: Y SUS REFORMADORES, LOS DIFERENTES 'ISMOS'


Este estudo é uma tentativa de tradução do texto homônimo publicado no jornal "libres y salvajes', Primavera de 2005, número 6 - uma publicação anarquista, verde, anticivilização, ludita, pela abolição dos cárceres, dos manicômios, dos exércitos. E o texto é assinado por alguém que atende pelo codinome "Criminal y egoísta".


E devo reconhecer que é uma tarefa díficil traduzir esse texto, partindo do fato de que não fiz um curso de língua espanhola e sequer disponho de um dicionário de espanhol.
Mas resolvi traduzi-lo assim mesmo.Numa tradução livre onde tentei ao máximo me aproximar do pensamento de seu autor, ainda que não concorde com todas as suas idéias ou todas as suas conclusões, o texto traz pensamentos interessantes e pertinentes para um debate.


"Nós temos dito outras vezes, que os ismos são equivalentes, socialmente falando, a céus verdadeiros. Cada ismo é só uma interpretação diferente do tipo de Sociedade, é dizer todos os 'ismos' pretendem regular (governar) as relações sociais em função de seus valores morais. Todos logicamente são absolutistas, pois a verdade, sua verdade, é universal, é dizer: para todos. E dizer todos, é dizer a humanidade, "todos somos filhos de Deus", todos somos homens ou mulheres, para o caso é o mesmo. Assim os 'ismos' baseiam seu fundamento, em buscar a felicidade para seu papel social, o homem renascido, o homem artificial.


O Cristianismo é um impulso dos mais significativos, na reafirmação do artificial. O humano só é a carcaça, de seu hóspede o espírito que mora nele, que é imperecível e é ele que deve ser salvado da animalidade de seu portador. O Abstracto, o que só é elocubração, e portanto, só posível ou provável, se converte no verdadeiro e no natural, o institivo, o que é nos tem permitido evoluir em milhões de anos, são, o pecaminoso, o amoral, os instintos selvagens, o vulgar, o egoísta; o que deve de ser 'superado'. O homem renascido do Cristianismo, é o prototipo da artificialidade, é um papel social, sujeito aos valores morais de sua época. É ele grande usurpador, o hóspede que nos possui e nos têm construídos, a nós únicos, que somos cada um, antes da domesticação-possessão.


Bem, pois é o cristianimso o precursor e promotor da idéia da 'nivelação' também conhecida como 'igualdade e justiça social', de que a todos os ismos tem feito sua versão particular, e a que sem dúvida a mais extremistas em sua ideía da nivelação são socialismo, comunismo e anarquismo, as mais cristãs. Sua nivelação, claro está é por baixo, é dizer; há que buscar a igualdade com os que menos têm. Assim, socialismo, comunismo e anarquismo, querem que de seu céu desapareçam os vivedores, os burgueses, convertendo-os a todos em produtores, escravos e servos do novo senhor, a "comunidade', novamente o absoluto. As revoluções dos ismos mencionados (socialismo, comunismo, anarquismo), são revoluções de 'ódio' (como diz Pessoa). Não liberam os trabalhadores, de suas penas, o trabalho, com suas fadigas, seu desgaste e sua obrigatoriedade, seu ranço só pretendem que trabalhe todo o mundo. Todos escravos do senhor absoluto do momento "A sociedade fraternal".


Despojados, os burgueses de seus privilégios e os proprietários de suas propriedades, o Poder e a Propriedade caiam em mãos do novo amo absoluto, a sociedade. Sem poder fazer e decidir por ti mesmo, dado que estás sujeito as leis e normas morais, que tragam consigo, os novos revolucionarios, só pode ter o que te dêem, o que tu chamas de "teus direitos" (que por outro lado, tal como eles te dão, eles podem te quitar) sempre e quando cumpra com "teus deveres" que como cidadão tens assinado, para o melhor desenvolvimento de todos, a sociedade, a humanidade ou a civilação.


Assim, sem poder e sem propriedade, o novo homem renascido, o homem fraterno, surgido das revoluções mencionadas(socialismo, comunismo, anarquismo) as mais avançadas no conceito da 'nivelação social', é pouco mais que um pária ou um indigente. Em definitiva, não é nada sem o todo, sem a comunidade, queira ele ou não, ele goste ou não. E esta nivelação total, pois todos participam em nivelar, em regular, em governar, nos retornamos novamente ao absolutismo. Escolhamos o caminho que escolhamos, o 'ismo' mais justo, sempre acabaremos no mesmo lugar, o absolutismo. Se querem resolver a equação de forma errônea. Estamos instalados na idéia introduzida pelo 'pensamento religioso' do todo Ordenado e da necessidade de regulação dos conflictos e essa é nosssa perdição, porque ele leva incorporado a idéia do superior, supremo, hierárquico, representado pelo "regulador' e por suas 'criações", os mundos artificiais. E como se regula? Pois uma função dos valores morais dos novos hierarcas nem mais nem menos. Para comprová-lo só há que achar uma olhada ao defendido em cada período 'revolucionário' por seus respectivos impulsores, porém insisto, desde o cristianismo só se busca a 'nivelação social' por baixo, é dizer, que uma das partes de megamaquina, do trabalho, do corpo, a comunidade, 'todos produtores', absolutismo sempre.


A questão é de que por conseguinte continuemos nesss visão da igualdade, de todos, e da ordem social, estamos condenados à escravidão. Confundir a sociabilidade egoísta, espontãnea e pontual, pois só nós podemos viver humanos, de quem queiramos ou necessitamos ou estajam dispostos a usar e serem usados, em uma palavra uma sociabilidade destinada a favorecermos a nós mesmos, com a idéia de uma sociedade para todos 'nivelada' obrigada, onde os atores mudam os papéis, mas a obra que se representa permanece imóvel e o absolutismo, o pensamento religioso,a artificialidade em suma, campam por seus respeitos.


Não podemos negar a sociabilidade, simples é uma obviedade natural; somos machos e fêmeas, que engendramos proles que durante um bom tempo não se valem por se mesmas. Depois ao largo de nossa vida, vivemos circunstancias que nos chegam a usar e ser usados. Porém se nego a Sociedade, esse invento, esse artifício, surgido da necessidade de ordenar que produz o Absolutismo.


E querem crer que é uma questão de palavras estarão presos de sua cegueira. Cegueira lógica se temos em conta que desde bem pequenos se nos domam em base a verdades absolutas, a coisas espirituais, superiores, artificiais, que não existem, que só são uma criação de nosso pensamento. E se no que alguém que me diga conceitos como: Deus, Patria, Sociedade, Igualdade, Espiritualidade, Moral, Ética, Religião, Ordem, etc. onde existam, aparde de nossa mente. Só existe, aquele que é corpóreo, e consequentemente, como o resto dos seres vivos o animal humano tem uma manifestação corpórea, o resto é só idéias, pensamentos, elocubrações, lavagens cerebrais, imposição absolutista milenaria, Artificialidade.Pois bem, a domadora da cria humana, tambem chamada iniciação, aprendizagem, educação, é a etapa na qual aquele que não tem outro equipamento natural que seus instintos, a cria humana, e que é corpóreo, ele que de verdade pode demonstrar que existe o 'sacrifícado' pelo seu entorno social, familia, escola, trabalho, comunidade, etc. dando lugar primeiro ao pequeno, depois ao homem e finalmente ao ancião, entre as crias machos, e as pequenas, as mulheres e as anciãs entre as fêmeas. Em cada uma dessas etapas o Natural, tem sido substituído por um conjunto de normas e atitudes que o papel social que me tem usurpado a identidade deve de manter, se haver estado 'bem constituído', bem domando, bem domensticado. Se tem sido assim, serei um possuído mas, que passarei minha experiência vivencial, suplantado por um conjunto de normas morais, surgidas das mentes calorosas de outros 'papéis sociais' que a por sua vez também foram domesticados. Aqueles que chamando-se revolucionários, pensem que ele não estão possuídos ou bem constituídos, e por ele seus propositos são legitimos e necessários, se equivocam de meio a meio.


A domesticação é um circulo fechado, uma vez tendo estado domado (programado) todas as suas ações se contentam em girar sempre dentro do círculo. Assim o revolucionário mais radical, nunca questionará o círculo. Todo pode mudar, porém como ser artificial em que tem se convertido, como 'papel social' que é, nunca irá contra a Ordem Social mesma, pois a ela deve sua existência, é dizer; seu 'papel social', sua artificialidade. Porém aqueles que não tem estado 'bem constituído', aqueles em que a dominação falou por uma ou outra causa, que se tem feito "chimarões", que defendem seu Eu real e natural, aquele que apostam por que o único existente é o que tem uma manifestação corpórea à margem, fora de nosso pensamento, que tem assasinado, chamam o sacerdote que os havia possuído, depreciamos nossso papel social e ele dos demais, somos as associações, os egoísta, os anarquistas e rompemos nossa parte do círculo, o vosso só pode romper cada de um vocês mesmos.


Todas as correntes educativas, com suas matizes, claro está, não passam de ser diferentes formas de domesticação, não deve esquecer-se que a domesticação, não é voluntária, sim obrigatória, incluidas como é lógico as "escolas racionalistas', do chamado anarquismo.
Só os que não defendem a obrigatoriedade da existência da Sociedade, os egoístas anarquistas, rechaçam a domesticação, as escolas ou pedagogias, transmissoras de valores morais, artificiais. Como não temos nenhum "valor moral" e só queremos ser nós mesmos, não podemos dizer-lhe aos demais que sejam como nós, pois deixariam de ser como eles e no queriam deixar de existir, em boa lógica. Na vida real, natural, nada lhe diz a nada como deve de viver, o instinto é o que nos diz que fazer e que não fazer. A vida artificial, a que suplanta a realidade é a única que necessita de normas e não se vive de bom grado sem a força.


Eu, como Criminoso ante todas as formas sociais.
Eu, como Egoísta ante todo o supremo ou superior.
Eu, como Humano ante todos os papíes sociais (homem, mulher, criança, etc.)
Eu, como Natural ante todas as artificialidades.
Eu como Anarquista ante todas as regulações.


Sou sequaz da Anarquia que nega a Ordem e o Mando, e em boa lógica toda forma de Regulação. Nego a Sociedade e defendo a multiassosiação. Como não quero Sociedades, tampoco recessito melhorá-las (reformá-las, revolucioná-las). Assim que nego a Revolução que só persegue fazer melhor a Sociedade (nivelá-la). E defendo a Insurreição contra aquilo que nego e aborreço. Não tenho nenhuma verdade absoluta para todos, nenhum céu, só tenho minha verdade e é minha e para mim, se queres alguma verdade tem a tua própria. Estou aborrecido do amor fraterno, e eu tenho suplantado pelo amor interessado; se me queres te quero. Quero meu Poder para mim, pois é minha força, não em vão só o que peçoi, nem mais nem menos; porém sou eu. Também quero minha Propriedade, a que meu Poder poça darme. Tampoco quero "A Liberdade", sem só a que poça ter, é dizer: a que meu poder me permita, a única que pode existir. A outra, "A Liberdade", só é outro término absoluto, e por tanto irreal, só pode existir nos pensamentos. Estou disposto a usar aos demais e também em reciprocidade a que eles me usem. Parece ser, que sou humano, isso eu não posso evitar, agora bem o que desprezo são os papíes sociais em que eles que me tem convertido (homem, mulher, criança, etc.). Meu medo o não, com os machos, e só babar desejando as fêmeas. Porém quando fazem aparição os "papéis sociais' se me eriçam os pêlos do corpo. Por ele, nego todas as formas de domesticação, todas as escolas, todas as pedagogias, todas as formas de converter as criaturas Selvagens, em seres artifiais, domados, com valores morais e éticos inventados por sacerdotes do absoluto. Renego de céus artificiais, que suplantam o real por ele inventado, o que só existe em nosso pensamento, e que no desemfreiar de sua obssessão, destroem a natureza e a refazem por uma artificial, claro que é lógico tambem se tem mudado eles; eram humanos e agora são papéis sociais. Eu cago no Cristianismo, e só por sua exaltação do Estado e da Igreja, como representantes do Absolutismo, sem ademais por fazer do homem, esse papel social, um Deus para si mesmo, propulsor em diante de seus próprios céus "ismos". Nego pois, as nivelações, dos diferentes 'ismos' por ir esta sempre acomapanhadas a Regulação, e não os esqueceis; quem te regula, te governa. Ao negar o Absoluto, logicamente, nego a Deus, esse invento dos humanos possuídos, e ao negar a Deus, nego a Ordem, a Religião, e com ela o Pensamento Religioso, o pensamento abstracto, o pensamento especulativo, o mundo dos espíritos, e todo o relacionado com: Sagrado, Supremo, o Superior. Ao que lhe disse: sou sequaz de Anarquia, persigo o Caos, que os conflictos se resolvam por si mesmos.


Que os partidarios da Anaquia, os dos diferentes "ismos" que dediquem seus reguladores em suas "partes" (ovos, ou peitos, direito e esquerdo), bem dito,de outra forma; que se dediquem a si mesmos, que reconheçam que só cada um é o mais importante, sem hipocrisias nem merdas, assim ao menos deixará de fazer servos.

sexta-feira, 29 de agosto de 2008

PORQUE IREI VOTAR NULO


Desculpe Luiziane Lins, Moroni Torgan, Renato Roseno, Adahil Barreto, Patricia Saboia, Gastão, etc. etc. etc.
Infelizmente eu não quero dirigentes.
Não acredito numa sociedade de esferas separadas.
Numa sociedade de delegações, de separações, de especialistas, de especializações, enfim, na sociedade pautada pelos critérios utilitaristas da economia de mercado
que não tem o menor escrúpulo
de usar recursos de falsidade cibernética
para destruir o psiquismo de um portador de transtorno bipolar.
O que vocês fizeram foi um CRIME.
FALSIDADE IDEOLÓGICA DE PESSOAS FALÇAS E CHEIAS DE CALCULADAS E PLANEJADAS
FALCIDADES.
E esse é o meu posicionamento.
E a você DIÁCONO.Não se preocupe. Sempre terei um dinheirinho para comprar um pastel
e um caldo de cana para você.
Porque eu gosto de ajudar pessoas INCOMPLETAS.

quinta-feira, 28 de agosto de 2008

AMOR E LUTO


Eu o esperava desde 1993.
E ele finalmente chegou.
Trouxe flores,
bombons
bihetes líricos
links

Mas aí ele me revela
que morrerá
em breve.

Não ficou claro
se de próstata,
aneurisma
ou coágulo.

Terei que refletir
e ponderar
qual o significado
disso tudo.

E me sinto culpado
porque uma vez com raiva
de sua distãncia
desejei que ele morresse.
e ele vai morrer.
mas eu vou fazer
tudo para que sua
passagem
seja bem divertida
bem confortável
agradável
e saudosa

quarta-feira, 27 de agosto de 2008

O MEU PAI


O meu pai é um um homem eficiente
e sempre quero mostrar para ele
o quanto cresci e amadureci.

Sempre quero chamar a atenção dele.
Quero sem bem sucedido como ele.
E quero ele mais perto
para me aconselhar
e dizer o que devo fazer
e o que devo evitar.

O meu pai
é um homem de livros
mas principalmente de ações.
É um homem muito prático.
Com os pés muito fincados na terra
E eu gosto dele
e até do jeitão meio Casca Grossa dele.

Eu admiro muito meu pai.
E acho que vou comprar uma gravata azul para ele
quando receber o meu próximo salário.

domingo, 24 de agosto de 2008

POEMA ARREPIADO PARA REBECA MATTA


Poema arrepiado para rebeca matta
Garotas boas vão para o céu
garotas más vão para qualquer lugar

entre o inferno de estar longe de ti
entre o paraíso de não tiver perto de mim
onde tu se esconde?
Por debaixo da mesa onde a feijoada esfria
numa praia distante em outro estado
no corpo de outro homem
que me visita.
Onde tu se esconde?

escuto o drum'n'bass de Rebeca Matta
com seus timbres eletrônicos
ruídos esquisitos
e distorções de guitarra

Chove ácido sulfúrico em Vênus
Os aneis de saturno não anunciam casamento
Meu pai ariano empresário que me evita
FODA-SE

terça-feira, 19 de agosto de 2008

ESCRITA DE CULHÕES: UMA LITERATURA MAL EDUCADA


Este estudo tenta tecer uma reflexão sobre um tipo de literatura, de escritura, não muito estudada ou levada em consideração pela academia, pela Teoria da Literatura e ou pela crítica literária.

Estou falando e evocando a literatura escrita por homens.Houve até um jornalista que, muito apropriadamente, batizou o "corpus" que vou analisar de literatura de culhões ou escrita de culhões.E essa categoria literária eu nunca ouvi falar nos corredores do Mestrado em Literatura por exemplo, o que revela que pode ser mais uma invenção de jornalista para vender livro.Como também pode revelar que a Academia tem uma certa postura burguesa ou asséptica de torcer o nariz para autores que deliberadamente violetam a norma culta ou que no entender dela faria uso de procedimentos estilísticos e de enunciação que fugiriam do cânone literário.

Para a discussão não ficar muito no campo da abstração vou começar a evocar autores que, no meu entender, fariam totalmente ou em parte uso dessa 'escrita de culhões'.

A literatura durante algum tempo pareceu dissociada do corpo de quem a produz e de quem a enuncia.Fruto de inspiração das Musas, produto de elaboração lingüística sofisticada e enamorada do Vernáculo, a literatura não seria o lugar para expressar o corpo e suas secreções ou pulsões.O corpo até ali não era ouvido nem sentido na literatura.O corpo era negado.Produção do espírito e apenas do espírito, a literatura exilou o corpo durante muito tempo.

A literatura seria então o lugar da expressão do sublime, do puro, do inefável, do sagrado.Escritor bom era aquele que sabia ler Latim, Grego ou Hebraico.Escritor bom era aquele que conhecia e dominava a Gramática ou que na infância tivesse feito análise sintática de "Os Lusíadas". Poeta bom era aquele que dominava a escanção do verso, ainda que seu verso fosse chocho e insípido.Isso foi o cânone da Literatura ocidental por muitos anos.

A literatura deveria ser comportada e certinha, bonitinha.Na Grécia Antiga a Tragédia seria o gênero literário maior.E como gênero maior teria que ter personagens maiores e cenários maiores.A Tragédia grega era o lugar dos grandes sentimentos e dos grandes homens.Leia-se aqui grandes homens como os reis, rainhas.E lugar dos grandes temas.Assim, a tragédia grega deveria falar apenas das peripécias amorosas, das mesquinharias e das disputas de poder envolvendo Reis e Rainhas ciumentas e vingativas ou de filhos querendo tomar o lugar do Rei pai.A linguagem deveria ser nobre, rebuscada.

Na Grécia Antiga os escritores que quisessem falar de pessoas menores e sentimentos menores deveriam escrever Comédias.É nas comédias que era permitido existir a plebe grega e romana, amantes escravos e soldados fanfarrões.É nas comédias que era permitido existir o calão, o palavrão, obscenidades, erotismo.Porque tudo isso era associado as classes populares, ao populacho, ao povão.Então assim, o grave, o solene era associado ao Rei e a Rainha, já o rídiculo, o obsceno, o grotesco, o bizarro, o escatológico era associado ao escravo e ao soldado.

Na Idade Média com a influência da Patrística e suas elocubrações tagarelas sobre a natureza de Deus, os escritores e poetas foram tolhidos em sua expressão estilística.E muitos os que ousaram escrever coisas sobre sentimentos considerados menores ou pessoas menores foram aconselhados a usar pseudônimos.

E mesmo na chamada Modernidade, os autores que ousaram relatar pessoas fazendo coisas não muito nobres ou que descreviam o uso das partes baixas do corpo foram perseguidos e presos como Marquês de Sade ou o poeta Charles Baudelaire em seu livro seminal "As flores do Mal", que ousou fazer versos sobre práticas de Lesbianismo e acabou tendo de pagar um multa pesadíssima ao governo francês.

A literatura a partir do Romantismo da Segunda geração, também chamada de Ultra-romantismo ou geração byroniana, passou a ser transgressora e a falar das coisas que eram consideradas tabus abertamente.Fruto talvez de uma sociedade que passava da tranquilidade camponesa da vida rural e de pequenas cidades comerciais para o frenetismo das grandes cidades pautadas pelos ritmos da Revolução Industrial.

Uma nova classe social surgiu em oposição a nova classe burguesa proprietária: o proletariado urbano.E lentamente esse novo ator social começou a aparecer na literatura.

Inicialmente a figura grosseira e desagradável do operário urbano analfabeto ou semi-escolarizado apareceu na obra dos romancistas franceses como Flaubert, Balzac e Zola.

E na literatura inglesa começou a aparecer de forma vigorosa na obra de Charles Dickens.Ele mesmo um ex-operário que teve a infância marcada pela pobreza, pela miséria, pelos maus tratos de capatazes de fábrica que espancavam os filhos dos operários na frente deles.Esse cotidiano duro marcou como ferro em brasa o imaginário do menino Charles Dickens e isso é patente em sua obra autobiográfica, em que meninos driblam as longas jornadas de trabalho com os livros escolares.

Na Literatura brasileira, por incrível que pareça não veremos isso na obra de um Machado de Assis.Mulato pobre, gago, epilético, Machado de Assis não fala de pobres, gagos, negros ou mulatos em sua literatura.Pelo contário, imitando José de Alencar, o autor de "Memórias Póstumas de Bras Cubas" só falou dos mexericos da corte do Rio de Janeiro.Só que em José de Alencar isso fazia sentido.Afinal José de Alencar era um importante latifundiário, proprietário de terras e escravos e enamorado pela bajulação ao poder imperial de Dom Pedro II.Então José de Alencar ao falar de personagens da Corte fazia todo o sentido, porque ele era branco, rico e da Corte.Mas Machado de Assis, não.Mas gostaria de ser.E sua literatura ao falar de gente rica e branca reflete esse desejo de Machado pertencer a esse círculo de sangue azul.

Já Lima Barreto optou por outro caminho.Era mulato, pobre e alcóolatra e em sua literatura há a presença de mulatos, negros, pobres, alcóolotras e os favelados do Rio de Janeiro da época.E pagou caro por isso.Por mostrar pessoas e cenários que não deveriam ter sido mostrados Lima Barreto chegou a perder emprego, teve diversas internações em manicômios e terminou nas ruas do Rio de Janeiro mulambento e cheirando a cachaça.

No Modernismo Brasileiro isso começa a mudar.Até porque o cenário político é outro.O desenvolvimento de grandes centros industriais trouxe num novo desenho urbano, em que há mais espaço para a diversidade de opiniões ou ideologias e também até para o confronto nada fraterno entre essas concepções.

Assim, enquanto havia escritores tributários de uma literatura solene, série, nobre e de personagens elevados, legado do beletrismo Parnasiano, da influência das hozanas simbolistas e da fetichização do vernáculo de um Rui Barbosa de um lado, havia também escritores comprometidos com as transgressões das vanguardas européias.

E ser transgressor nesse contexto na era só experimentar no campo lexical ou fornecendo pirotecnias sintáticas, não.A transgressão também estava em cantar o homem comum, mediano, medíocre, banal.

A literatura a partir daí passar a cantar a banalidade do cotidiano e passou a penetrar nos segredos de alcovas, nas obssessões e perversões sexuais das pessoas.

Porque se em José de Alencar as pessoas apareciam vestidas em seus paletós, com os escritores modernistas são os operários e as pessoas de baixo poder aquisitivo que surgem em suas cozinhas preparando feijoadas ou nuas em seus quartos entre orgasmos e gases fétidos involuntários.

Estou falando de Jorge Amado que mostrou o cotidiano dos pobres e negros da Bahia.E como disse Miguel Falabela em comentário inteligente sobre o extinto Programa do Ratinho:" - O Programa do Ratinho mostra a cara do Brasil real.E é uma cara feia". Assim, Jorge Amado fala das greves dos estivadores dos portos de Salvador, fala dos coronéis cacaueiros do Ilhéus e suas taras sexuais pelas negrinhas que trabalhavam em suas fazendas, fala das macumbas, dos candomblés.Enfim, é uma literatura que fala do povo em todo o seu vigor e brutalidade, não se furtando em registrar a língua grosseira popular.E até os seus palavrões dão o colorido do rico painel do povo baiano.

Moreira Campos, na literatura cearense, também registra a grosseria vocabular do povo cearense, especialmente dos machos cearenses.Aliás seus personagens são sempre homens excitados e que pensam em sexo o tempo todo.

A "Escrita de culhões" seria a expressão desses escritores homens que fazem uma certa apologia da virilidade, da masculinidade e da força bruta.E que elege como personagens homens simples e pouco escolarizados.E como cenários butiquins, cabarés, motéis, lugares onde a língua portuguesa se despe do policiamento gramatical e assume toda a rudeza do cântico aos buracos da mulher amada. Talvez até como uma manifestação de uma certa insegurança em sua orientação sexual, porque muitos associam a literatura e a poesia como coisa de mulher ou de homens emasculados, abaitolados, aqueles menininhos que em vez de ir jogar bolar, fazia todos os deveres de casa, rezava todas as rezas da avô, ou seja, um mariquinha.

E se no universo da Literatura Brasileira esse erotismo aparece viril, vigoroso mas suavizado pelo amolecimento sensual do homem latino; já na Literatura Inglesa, a "Escrita de culhões" aparece de uma forma tão crua e seca que resvala ao patológico e ao crime, devido a própria secura e rudeza da língua inglesa e da cultura anglo-saxônica que a inspira.Os americanos, os ingleses e os alemães não são muito dados a ficar desdobrando a mulher amada com poemas apaixonados ou com seduções românticas como fazem os latinos.Pelo contrário, vão logo direto ao assunto e abrindo a braguilha. Basta ver o cinema pornô produzido em países de língua inglesa.Lá as mulheres são tratadas como putas que devem ficar caladas, enquanto seus machos as violam com brutalidade, palavrões e até simulação de estrangulamento.Porque são culturas muito focadas no homem, no macho.E isso resvala também na literatura desses países.

Basta ver a grosseria de um Ernest Hemingway muito empolgado em exibições de força e virilidade gratuita em caçadas e safaris na África ou em cópulas violentas com mulheres submissas.

Ou a literatura barra-pesada de um Charles Bukowsky mostrando homens bêbados e fedorentos roçando a barba em mulheres dentro de apartamentos de quinta categoria.

Ou ainda a obra de um Henry Miller, em que personagens fazem comentários extremamente depreciativos sobre as proezas sexuais de suas esposas gordas e que expelem gases mal-cheirosos durante a cópula.

Esse estudo poderia apontar para exaustivas análises em pârametros psicanalistas ou dentro das premissas da crítica feminista, mas confesso que conheço pouco a aplicação da Psicanálise a esse tipo particular de expressão literária, a literatura escrita por homens, como também, não tive muito acesso a estudos feministas sobre romancistas e poetas declaradamente machistas.

Tudo isso ainda deve render estudos.Até porque a crítica feminista ficou durante muito tempo voltada para o seu próprio umbigo: a contemplação de escritoras que supostamente escrevem com o útero.

Pouco se escreveu sobre essa literatura feita por quem tem testículos.Testículos esses tão obssedantes que conseguem ficar patente na urdidura desses escritores citados e de outros que poderiam ser citados também e ficaram de fora.