This is my feeble attempt to join the rest of the team in working with the "third dimension". I used some of Lynn's leftovers in a short stack on the far right side. This was definitely new for me and not terribly comfortable -- but it is wonderful to feel free to experiment and learn from the others. This is the heart of our process. -- Lola
from page 155-156 of original text
Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 724-726
Following her father's death, a fragile Princess Marya lay on the couch "thinking of the irrevocability of death and of her own inner loathsomeness, which she had not known about till then, and which had shown itself during her father's illness. She wanted but did not dare to pray, did not dare to address herself to God in the state of soul she was in."
from page 153-154, Volume 2 of original text
Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 723-724
The sun went down on the other side of the house, and its slanting evening rays shone through the open window into the room and onto part of the morocco cushion Princess Marya was looking at. The flow of her thoughts suddenly stopped. She unconsciously sat up, smoothed her hair, rose, and went to the window, involuntarily breathing in the coolness of the clear but breezy evening.
"Yes, it's easy for you to admire the evening now! He's gone, and nobody will hinder you," she said to herself and, sinking onto a chair, let her head drop to the windowsill.
Someone called her name in a tender and soft voice from the garden side and kissed her on the head. She glanced up.
--p 723 in P/V
from page 151-152, Volume 2 of original text collage made 4/1/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 721-723
It's the day of the Count's funeral. The French are closing in, and the peasants are refusing to go anywhere in spite of orders to prepare 12 horses for the princess's carriages, and eighteen carts for a train that would be made up to take her to safety.
Lucy Arrington from page 149-150, Volume 2 of original text collage, ink made 4/1/1 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 720-721
I was dazzled when I entered the studio on April 1 -- it was the first I'd seen of the three-dimensional collages. It caught me completely by surprise. I had been sick the week before. Would Lynn and Adrienne gone into that kind of work had I been there? Or had others been there? We are often heavily influenced by each other, but not necessarily. Would I have wanted to put the qua bash on that? Later in this series I did try to work with more depth to my pieces, but for the most part I've remained a "flat Stanley".
As I read through this passage (Volume III, Part Two, Chapter VIII and IX), here is what I underlined:
"As horses shy, crowd, and snort over a dead horse, so people crowded around the coffin in the drawing room -- strangers and and familiars, the marshal, and the headman, and peasant women -- and all with a fixed and frightened gaze crossed themselves and bowed, and kissed the cold and stiffened hand of the old prince." This was the demise of Prince Nikolai Andreevich Bolkonsky, father of Princess Marya and Prince Andrei. I was glad to see him go -- he was so horrible to Princess Marya! -- Lola
from page 147-148, Volume 2 of original text
Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 718-719
I was definitely looking for that same trip from the week before, when the collages started growing off the page. It's funny how this project works. Sometimes you're on fire, and other times you find yourself merely punching the clock, hoping for that certain something that pulls you forward so you can create. Ultimately, it is the camaraderie that makes me return to try again. For me, that is the genius of the project.
from page 143-144, Volume 2 of original text
Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 715-716
The old count is dying. Princess Marya spends her time torn between mourning him and wishing for the end. She is able to admit to herself that after he dies, she might somehow be able to have a life of her own. Maybe even find love... have a family of her own. But she's aware of the conflict. Her father must die for that to happen & it's the devil's work for her to wish for his death... Poor Marya.
Lucy Arrington from page 141-143, Volume 2 original text collage, ink made 3/25/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 713-714
Prince Vassily, who occupied all the same important posts, was the connecting link between the two circles. He visited ma bonne amie Anna Pavlovna, and he visited dans le salon diplomatique de ma fille, and often, in his ceaseless moves from one camp to the other, became confused and said at Anna Pavlovna's what ought to have been said at Helene's, and vice versa. --p 706 of Pevear/Volokhonsky
Lynn Waskelis from page 133-134, Volume 2 of original text collage made 3/25/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 707-708
Lynn and I were the only ones in the studio this day, and off the page we went! We were a little worried we might be breaking one of our rules, but were also enjoying the wickedness of doing so. Lynn joked that this was the ruffle on Natasha's dress, and I'm inclined to agree with her. -Adrienne
from page 129-130 of original text
Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 703-704
The sun, a red ball in the dust, scorched and burned his back unbearably through his black tunic. Dust, the same as ever, hung motionless over the halted troops buzzing with talk. There was no wind. As he rode across the dam, Prince Andrei smelled the slime and the freshness of the pond. He wanted to go into the water- however dirty it was. He glanced around the pond, from which came shouts and loud laughter. The small, muddy green pond had evidently risen some eight inches, overflowing the dam, because it was filled with the naked human bodies of soldiers flopping about in it, white with brick-red hands, faces, and necks. All that naked, white human flesh, with whoops and guffaws, was flopping about in the dirty puddle like carp in a bucket. This flopping suggested merriment, and that made it particularly sad. --p703 in P/V
Lynn Waskelis from page 127-128, Volume 2 of original text collage made 3/18/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 702-703
Prince Andrei stops at Bald Hills, now abandoned by his family as they fled for Moscow, pillaged and nearing ruin, waiting for the enemy. While I did not reference this passage as I worked on the collage, the piece feels to me as a confused and angry jumble, perhaps not unlike the state of the prince's beloved Bald Hills. - Adrienne
from pager 125-126, Volume 2 of original text
Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 700-701
One of the things I love this project is all the stuff that shows up. One day Lynn brought in a large bag filled with canceled stamps that had been donated by a friend. Some of the stamps were pretty ordinary, while others were quite stunning -- I just know there is an amazing collage waiting to jump out of that bag one of these days. In the meantime, I'm thinking this particular piece resembles the blog photo of our newspaper-covered table dotted with ink bottles, jars and various other sundries. -- Adrienne
Adrienne Wetmore from page 119-120, Volume 2 of original text collage, ink, acrylic paint made 3/18/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 696
All night troops moved down the street past the inn. The next day, Alpatych put on the tunic that he wore only in town and went about his business. The morning was sunny, and by eight o'clock it was already hot. A precious day for harvesting, Alpatych thought. Outside town, shooting had been heard since early morning. --p. 693 in P/V
Lynn Waskelis from page 117-18, Volume 2 original text collage made 3/18/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 693-695
On his way, Alpatych met and passed baggage trains and troops. Driving up to Smolensk, he heard distant shooting, but these sounds did not strike him. What struck him most strongly was when, nearing Smolensk, he saw a beautiful field of oats, which some soldiers were mowing, evidently for fodder, and on which they had pitched their camp; this circumstance struck Alpatych, but he soon forgot it, thinking about his own business. --p. 693 in P/V
Lynn Waskelis from page 115-116 of original text collage, ink made 3/18/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 692-693
Though I am often quite removed from the storyline, I still feel it there in the background, influencing the work. Here, I somewhat remember looking at a peaceful landscape (did someone use it to create a collage?). I made my own landscape of birch and meadow - quiet and a bit forlorn. -- Adrienne
Adrienne Wetmore from page 113-114 of original text collage, ink made 3/18/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 690-691
A few weeks ago I dusted my old Russian textbook off the shelf and have committed myself to study 10 minutes per day. Trish is doing the same. She read that recommendation in her book -- that it's better to study a few minutes every day than a large block of time less frequently. So I am once again amazed by how difficult Russian is. There are different verbs for going on foot vs. being transported. There are different prefixes for coming, going, going around, etc. And then the gender, number and perfect, past perfect, etc. It is humbling!
That said, I was thrilled to be able to identify the section of the text that I used for this collage. "'Ha, ha, ha! The theater of war!' said the prince. "I have said and I still say that the theater of war is Poland, and the enemy will never penetrate beyond the Niemen.'"
So here is the imaginary line beyond which the French army will not pass -- in pink! And street maps of Paris.-- Lola
Lola Baltzell from page 111-112, Volume 2 of original text collage, acrylic paint made 3/10/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 688-689
Lucy Arrington from page 109-110, Volume 2 of original text collage, acrylic paint made 3/10/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 687-688
Here Tolstoy gives us a glimpse of war from the point of view of the women...
Princess Marya feared for her brother... was horrified by the idea of people killing each other, but she did not understand the significance of the war.
Julie, now Princess Drubstskoy, wrote from Moscow:
We pass our time as we can; but in war as in war. Princess Alina and Sophie sit whole days with me, and we, unfortunate widows of living husbands make beautiful conversations over the lint (bandage material), only you, my friend, are lacking.
This quote is taken from The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova:
It is a gradation of towns, of architecture, of gradually receding minarets blended with the advancing church domes, of the very look of forest and riverbank, so that little by little you begin to believe you can read in nature itself the saturation of history. Does the shoulder of a Turkish hillside really look so different from the slope of a Magyar meadow? Of course not, and yet the difference is as impossible to erase from the eye as the history that informs it is from the mind. Later, traveling this route, I would also see it alternately as benign and bathed in blood-- this is the other trick of historical sight, to be unrelentingly torn between good and evil, peace and war.
--Chapter 38, page 288.
The passage describes the route from Istanbul to Budapest, but could also describe some of the contested lands in War and Peace.
from page 107-108, Volume 2 of original text collage, ink, pigment made 3/10/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 684-687
Here's a passage from Volume III, Part Two, Chapter I.
"In historical writings about the year 1812, French authors very much like to speak of how Napoleon sensed the danger of extending his line, how he sought a battle, how his marshals advised him to stop at Smolensk, and to bring forth other similar arguments to prove that even the danger of the campaign was supposedly understood; and Russian authors like still more to speak of how from the beginning of the campaign there existed a Scythian war plan of luring Napoleon into the depths of Russia, and one ascribes this plan to Pfuel, another to some Frenchman, another to Toll, another to the emperor Alexander himself, pointing to reports, projects, and letters that indeed contain hints at such a way of action. But all these hints at the forseeing of what happened, both on the French and on the part of the Russians, are now put forward only because events justified them. If the events had not occurred, those hints would have been forgotten, as thousands and millions of contrary hints and suppositions that were current then, but turned out to be incorrect, are now forgotten. There are always so many suppositions conjectures about the outcome of every event which takes place that, however it ends, people will always be found who say: "I said back then that it would be like this," quite forgetting that among their numberless suppositions, there were some completely contrary."
Just yesterday I heard a clip on the radio, a Republican presidential contender blasting the current Administration for all that has gone wrong over the course of the last few years. As if all that has passed could have been steered a different way -- as if the contender could have had perfect foresight and could have made different choices. The Buddha got this one right 2500 years ago -- how there are so many seen and unseen forces at work and that the best course of action is to see clearly what is happening and to make wise and loving choices based on what one is confronting.To think that we can control and predict events in our individual lives is the cause of much suffering, much less on the level of war and politics.
In this piece, you can see Moscow on the left, still intact before the fires set by Napoleon's army. -- Lola
Lola Baltzell from page 105-106, Volume 2 of original text collage made 3/10/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 683-684
Lucy Arrington from page103-104 of original text collage, acrylic paint made 3/10/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 682-683
Napoleon sets out on a course that will lead to the destruction of the French army in the depths of the Russian winter.
"No one will dispute that the cause of the destruction of Napoleon's French forces was, on the one hand, their advance late in the year, without preparations for a winter march, into the depths of Russia, and, on the other hand, the character that the war took on with the burning of Russian towns and the hatred of the foe aroused in the Russian people."
There are a few uses of the number "10" in this passage.
We are in Volume III, Part One, Chapter XXII. Just before the fall of Moscow. The nobility is gathered together and they are asked to donate ten men per thousand to serve as soldiers. This is prior to the freeing of the serfs which took place in 1861 so presumably these "donations" are serfs. The sovereign gives a short speech of thanks to the nobility, then speaks with the merchants for about ten minutes. Pierre is present and is very moved. Pierre is so sentimental and easily influenced by others, so when he learns that one man has given a regiment, he gives a thousand men and their maintenance.
Natasha's younger brother has been wanting to enlist, and after witnessing the sovereign's speech, he not only agrees but helps Petya sign up. -- Lola
Lola Baltzell from page 101-102, Volume 2 of original text collage, ink made 3/10/11 Pevear/Volokhonsky translation page 680-682