Tempo - Orme sulle sabbia

Liceo Scientifico Statale

Arcangelo Scacchi

Percorso multidisciplinare per gli esami di

maturità

ORME SULLA SABBIA

Riflessione sul tempo

Studentessa: Capuozzo Flavia

a

Classe: 5 F Anno scolastico 2008/2009

INDICE

Introduzione ………………………………………………………………………....

 pag. 3

Inglese

 - Virginia Woolf…………………………………………………………........

.pag. 4

- James

Joyce……………………………………………………………….......pag. 5

Italiano

 - Italo Svevo………………………………………………………………......

.pag. 7

Francese

 - Marcel Proust………………………………………………………….….... pag.

10

Storia dell’arte

 - Salvador Dalì………………………………………………………….…....

pag. 12

Filosofia

 - Nietzsche………………………………………………………………..

…....pag. 14

Latino

 - Seneca……………………………………………………………………......

pag. 16

Storia

 - Mario Rigoni Stern……………………………………………………...

…..pag. 19

Conclusione ………………………………………………………………………..…

 pag. 22 2

INTRODUZIONE

Il Tempo è un concetto che esprime la successione e la durata di eventi

passati, presenti e futuri. Esso è ovunque, è regolatore implacabile della vita

dell’uomo, sempre presente sin dall’inizio della storia dell’umanità, intangibile,

impalpabile, ma strepitosamente attraente.

L’impossibilità di bloccarlo o di viaggiarci attraverso hanno da sempre

afflitto l’uomo, impotente di fronte al suo flusso inesorabile, costretto a cedergli

il passo, a lasciare che il proprio corpo avvizzisca sotto la sua spaventosa scure.

L’unico modo che l’essere umano ha di maneggiare il tempo è la memoria di cui

è padrone: ricordi, emozioni, eventi, anniversari, tutto ciò che avviene in

passato è possibile incastonarlo nella nostra mente e quanto più sarà forte il

desiderio di ricordare, tanto più saranno vividi i nostri ricordi.

La memoria è dunque la compagna affidabile del tempo, ligia al doveroso

compito di stabilizzare e focalizzare ciò che avviene negli attimi in cui la vita

scorre, portata lontano

sulle ali del tempo…

Nel nostro secolo il rapporto uomo – tempo si configura come la possibilità

di vivere liberamente in funzione del tempo interiore: le passioni, le emozioni, le

sensazioni attraverso le quali i secondi sembrano durare ore e i giorni sembrano

volare via come i convenzionali secondi.

Questo è il risultato a cui sono giunti scrittori e artisti, in seguito alle più aspre

battaglie contro il tempo. Le armi moderne di questa battaglia (macchine

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fotografiche, CD, computer) sono incredibilmente efficienti. Per rivivere un

qualunque istante, basta schiacciare un piccolo tasto. Ciò nonostante l’uomo

continua ad aggrapparsi disperatamente ad esso, e nel momento in cui crede di

averlo preso, il tempo gli sfugge dalle mani. Quando guardiamo un vecchio

album fotografico, teniamo in mano solo la tomba del tempo perduto e il suo

involucro mummificato. Tutto ciò che bisogna fare, invece, è lanciarsi nei flutti

del tempo, lasciarsi trascinare dove vuole; l’importante è uscire dalla finta

consapevolezza di non poter trattenere il tempo.

INGLESE:

The desire to find new development in European novel was stimulated by

the new concept of time introduced by the French philosopher Henri Bergson.

He studied human process of the mind trying to explore the thoughts. He

distinguished between the mathematical time of science and the time of the

mind , which is lived in a personal way and changes from one person to

another, or from one situation to another. Bergson called this second time

“duration”. Inner time has a duration which illudes conventional clock time, thus

turning the old conception of time from a sequence of separate points into an

unbroken continuum.

To the lighthouse

Virginia Woolf – The relation between the external world and

the interior life and the role played by Time, are the

main themes in Virginia Woolf’s works.

Woolf’s imaginary is upset by the thought of how

precarious existence is. The anguishing feeling of

the pass of time, felt like a whirlpool who distroys

every attempt to build an identity, adds to that

perception of emptiness, hidden behind the

apparent stability of the world. The awareness of

this condition is at the base of her effort to follow

minutely the comings and goings of thoughts, the

alternating states of soul. She’s convinced that

reality is incoherent, and it couldn’t be observed

with impartiality from the outside; for this reason

she only uses the point of view of the individual

consciousness, so there is not the traditional dimension of time. Present, pass,

futur live together one near to the other; uniportant events don’t exist, in fact

even the most banal actions can be considered decisive in the interior life of the

individual. Virginia Woolf adopt the stream of consciousness to reconstruct the

turbulent rotating of thought, sensations, states of soul

in the inside of the person. The prospectives of the

carachters interweave. To the Lighthouse,

In 1927 she wrote in a a

highly poetic style and, thus, is rich in metaphors and

The Window,

symbolism. It’s divided into three parts,

Time passes, The Lighthouse. Time

and In the section

passes, Woolf enlists an innovative conception of time

to create windows of opportunity for profound spiritual 4

meditation. In doing so, she opens the possibility of feeling the sacred in

everyday events and experiences, and in turn the possibility of connecting more

Time Passes

intensely with existence. is also the shortest of the three sections

To the Lighthouse,

that make up and yet it covers the longest period of time:

approximately ten years. This paradox in itself contributes to the idea that in

this section Woolf transcends or collapses ordinary temporality. In effect,

however, it is not simply a matter of Woolf transcending or collapsing linear

time in this section of her text; instead, time is made up of the complex

interplay between the diachronic and synchronic dimensions.

Time Passes

One of the most interesting aspects of is the emphasis that

Woolf places on the synchronic dimension of time, or, in other words, the

emphasis she puts on the moments in time that seem to be slowed down and

perceived in depth. The major historical events in this section, like Mrs.

Ramsay’s death, Prue’s marriage and her death during childbirth, and Andrew’s

death during the war, are parenthetical details in the most literal sense, as they

are set apart from the body of the text in parentheses. Throughout most of this

section, Woolf focuses instead on what might otherwise be seen as insignificant

moments. It is these moments, and the subsequent meditations that seem to

extend or prolong them, that actually form the body of the text.

The following passage exemplifies Woolf’s use of synchronic moments to

engage with the sacred:

“Nothing stirred in the drawing-room or in the dining-room or on the staircase. Only

through the rusty hinges and swollen sea-moistened woodwork certain airs, detached from the

body of the wind (the house was ramshackle after all) crept round corners and ventured

indoors. Almost one might imagine them, as they entered the drawing room questioning and

wondering, toying with the flap of hanging wall-paper, asking, would it hang much longer, when

would it fall? Then smoothly brushing the walls, they passed on musingly as if asking the red

and yellow roses on the wall-paper whether they would fade, and questioning (gently, for there

was time at their disposal) the torn letters in the waste-paper basket, the flowers, the books, all

of which were now open to them and asking, Were they allies? Were they enemies? How long

would they endure?

So some random light directing them with its pale footfall upon stair and mat, from some

uncovered star, or wandering ship, or the Lighthouse even, the little airs mounted the staircase

and nosed round bedroom doors. But here, surely, they must cease. Whatever else may perish

and disappear, what lies here is steadfast. Here one might say to those sliding lights, those

fumbling airs that breathe and bend over the bed itself, here you can neither touch or destroy.”

Ulysses

James Joyce - The Irish writer James Joyce had been much

more daring than Virginia Woolf in using the stream

of consciousness, and in the demoliton of the

narrative structures of the 19 century realistic

th

novel. Moving from the convinction that the

subjective perspective is the only one possible to

represent reality, he abandoned every form of

classicism. He was firmly convinced that nobody

thinks in complete, well-organised sentences; the

thought forms in the mind without a syntactic shape,

and man translates it into words and sentences to

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make it intelligible to others. The author wanted to convey the thoughts and

feelings as they form in the mind, hence the twisted and disrupted syntax, the

sudden, abrupt passages from ont topic to another, the uncompleted sentences.

As a result we seem to enter directly, without authorial intervention, into the

flux and muddle of the carachters actual thoughts, and the novel moves

insinuatingly from descriptions of carachters, into their minds, and out again.

Ulysses

He wrote in 1918, firstly appeared in serial form, and published

only in 1922. In this novel the borders between the ego and the world are

completely demolished, the possibility of representation of the reality from the

outside is roled out, external events and carachter’s thoughts are mixed without

intermission, leaving a predominant place to the stream of consciousness,

whom constant use witnesses the triviality of reality. The world in which the

modern Ulysses lives, keeps its degradation and boorishness, even in literature

that is not able to dignify or redeem it.

Since traditional time strictness and the time clear divisions prevent the

description of mind activities, Joyce brings in this work a malleable sense of

time; he presses Homer’s Ulysses twenty years trip in the sixteen hours

experience of his Ulysses. So a minute can be much more longer than an hour.

He’s able to represent the irregularity of the time through a fragmented

exposition, alterning to the narration, comments on the personal experience of

the protagonist in relation with traditional time and the interior monologue,

aimed at reproduce the continuous flux of reality, claimed by Henri Bergson.

The grammar rules and the syntax are not used; the author proceeds by

association of ideas in order to report thoughts as they come up in mind,

without a chronological order, without any organization: as a river flow, they

only have a logical sequence. Therefore time is subjective, it is the one in the

inner side of the carachter. That’s why Joyce prefers the debunking force to the

poetic expression. There’s now one of the highest example of flux of thought in

Ulysses, Molly’s monologue:

“..... a quarter after what an unearthly hour I suppose theyre just getting up in China now

combing out their pigtails for the day well soon have the nuns ringing the angelus theyve

nobody coming in to spoil their sleep except an odd priest or two for his night office the

alarmclock next door at cockshout clattering the brains out of itself let me see if I can doze off 1

2 3 4 5 what kind of flowers are those they invented like the stars the wallpaper in Lombard

street was much nicer the apron he gave me was like that something only I only wore it twice

better lower this lamp and try again so as I can get up early Ill go to Lambes there beside

Findlaters and get them to send us some flowers to put about the place in case he brings him

home tomorrow today I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I want to do the place up

someway the dust grows in it I think while Im asleep then we can have music and cigarettes I

can accompany him I must clean the keys of the piano with milk whatll I wear shall I wear a

white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I love the smell of a rich big shop a 7½d a lb or the

other ones with the cherries in them and the pinky sugar 11d a couple of lbs of course a nice

plant for the middle of the table Id get that cheaper in wait wheres this I saw them not long ago

I love flowers Id love to have the whole place swimming in roses God of heaven theres nothing

like nature the wild mountains then the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful country

with fields of oats and wheat and all kinds of things and all the fine cattle going about that

would do your heart good to see rivers and lakes and flowers all sorts of shapes and smells and

colours springing up even out of the ditches primroses and violets nature it is as for them

saying theres no God I wouldnt give a snap of my two fingers for all their learning why dont they

go and create something I often asked him atheists or whatever they call themselves go and

wash the cobbles off themselves first then they go howling for the priest and they dying and

why why because theyre afraid of hell on account of their bad conscience ah yes I know them

well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah

that they dont know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from

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rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons

on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes

first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years

ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said I was a flower of the mountain

yes so we are flowers all a womans body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the

sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what

a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could

leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldnt answer first only looked out over the

sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didnt know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and

Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and

washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with

the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their

shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the jews and the

Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the gowl

market all clucking outside Larby Sharons and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the

vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of

the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white

and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old

windows or the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the

wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras

the watchman going about serene with his lamp and 0 that awful deepdown torrent 0 and the

sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the

Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and

the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I

was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used

or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well

him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me

would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him

down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and

yes I said yes I will Yes.”

ITALIANO: La coscienza di Zeno

Italo Svevo – Il volontario esilio da Dublino e il carisma di Joyce gli

permisero di stringere una solida e sincera amicizia con

uno degli esponenti dei più importanti circoli letterari

triestini, Italo Svevo.

Questo non fu uno scrittore di professione; il successo gli

giunse all’improvviso, quando, spinto dai consigli

La coscienza di Zeno.

dell’amico Joyce pubblicò Con questo

romanzo, per la prima volta nella tradizione letteraria

italiana, la dimensio