JoHannes
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JoHannes
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Autumn [fabric]
[Associations] dark green / peaty / warm, damp earth / complex depth / archaic / fresh wood / mossy trees in the late summer forest / Isle of Skye / old leather armchairs in the manor house / open fire / whiskey tasting at Torabhaig Distillery / Arturo Toscanini, Ernest Hemingway and Charlie Chaplin smoking pipes in Harry's Bar / tobacco harvest in western Cuba / burnt caramel in the fire / vanilla pulp / cinnamon confectionery / spicy sweetness / warm sticky oud oil / scratchy sweet
[A composition that, for me, combines the late summer/early fall outdoors and the subsequent times indoors, sitting in front of the fireplace, smoking a pipe and with a single malt in the glass. Warmth, fire, billows of smoke, crackling wood, sweet spices. An old, warm, soft leather armchair and as a base: oud. Earthy, warm and spicy oud.
[Origin] A fragrance that comes from another time/world. Solid, archaic, complex, stately. Well wearable. Present, but never loud. Enveloping like a heavy, old wool quilt from a weaving mill in Scotland. Grounded. Touching.
[Poetry] Autumn day
Lord, it is time. The summer was very great.
Lay your shadow on the sundials,
and in the corridors let the winds go.
Command the last fruits to be full;
give them two more southern days,
urge them towards completion, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
He who has no house now will not build one.
He who is alone now will remain so for a long time,
will watch, read, write long letters
and will wander to and fro in the avenues
restlessly when the leaves drift.
(Rainer Maria Rilke, 21.9.1902, Paris)
[Music] 'Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis' Ralph Vaughan Williams
[A composition that, for me, combines the late summer/early fall outdoors and the subsequent times indoors, sitting in front of the fireplace, smoking a pipe and with a single malt in the glass. Warmth, fire, billows of smoke, crackling wood, sweet spices. An old, warm, soft leather armchair and as a base: oud. Earthy, warm and spicy oud.
[Origin] A fragrance that comes from another time/world. Solid, archaic, complex, stately. Well wearable. Present, but never loud. Enveloping like a heavy, old wool quilt from a weaving mill in Scotland. Grounded. Touching.
[Poetry] Autumn day
Lord, it is time. The summer was very great.
Lay your shadow on the sundials,
and in the corridors let the winds go.
Command the last fruits to be full;
give them two more southern days,
urge them towards completion, and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
He who has no house now will not build one.
He who is alone now will remain so for a long time,
will watch, read, write long letters
and will wander to and fro in the avenues
restlessly when the leaves drift.
(Rainer Maria Rilke, 21.9.1902, Paris)
[Music] 'Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis' Ralph Vaughan Williams
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Kōya-san
When - at the edges of the days, when the summer glows into the foliage sleep.
Now - in the coming times of smoke, of falling, of home, of gathering, now it whispers from all pores of longing, softly, warming, comforting: I cradle you, I nurture you, I guide you.
Here - Kōya-san, the temple, the monks, the great silence.
There - the old ZEN monk, tightly gripping the leather handle of the wooden broom. As he sweeps the damp leaves through the waving forest. The warm misty glow is fragrant: holy smoke, noble woods. Green grasses give away their scent to strangers. A great curl, a silent being.
The temple is now shelter, warming, home.
Hear - the chants of silence. And all these smells - full of comfort. The warmth sounds deeper now. Skin longs to skin. Silence. Lovers, wordlessly silent they fall asleep.
There - I invite you. Kōya-san.
Now - in the coming times of smoke, of falling, of home, of gathering, now it whispers from all pores of longing, softly, warming, comforting: I cradle you, I nurture you, I guide you.
Here - Kōya-san, the temple, the monks, the great silence.
There - the old ZEN monk, tightly gripping the leather handle of the wooden broom. As he sweeps the damp leaves through the waving forest. The warm misty glow is fragrant: holy smoke, noble woods. Green grasses give away their scent to strangers. A great curl, a silent being.
The temple is now shelter, warming, home.
Hear - the chants of silence. And all these smells - full of comfort. The warmth sounds deeper now. Skin longs to skin. Silence. Lovers, wordlessly silent they fall asleep.
There - I invite you. Kōya-san.
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