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Lulu and Schopenhauer: A Journey Through the Multiverse of Books
"Currer Bell is neither man nor woman, but an abstract thing, an artist."
• Michael Garcia Mujica, Lead Educator in Arts and Film History.
Echoing the sentiment about Charlotte Brontë's pseudonymous voice, Michael lends his expertise not only as a writer and visual artist but also as a Lead Educator in arts and film history. Based in Coral Gables, Florida, he is the principal of Vintage Brooks, Inc., where he passionately revitalizes the legacy of silent film star Louise Brooks. His acclaimed blog, Naked on My Goat, serves as a living tribute to Brooks's enduring influence in film, her profound writing, and her broad appreciation for the arts.
Just as Brontë made an indelible mark in literature despite the societal constraints of her time, Michael accentuates Brooks's trailblazing spirit within the film industry. In his role, he ensures that Brooks's iconic voice continues to resonate within the cultural lexicon of the 21st century, celebrating the intricate victories of women in the arts, both past and present.
Explore more about the abstract persona of Charlotte Brontë in Michael's piece, "The Abstract Persona: Understanding Charlotte Brontë's Pseudonymous Journey as Currer Bell."
“I am satisfied that if a book is a good one, it is so whatever the sex of the author may be. All novels are or should be written for both men and women to read, and I am at a loss to conceive how a man should permit himself to write anything that would be really disgraceful to a woman, or why a woman should be censured for writing anything that would be proper and becoming for a man.”
• Anne Brontë, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
• Michael Garcia Mujica, Lead Educator in Arts and Film History.
Echoing the sentiment about Charlotte Brontë's pseudonymous voice, Michael lends his expertise not only as a writer and visual artist but also as a Lead Educator in arts and film history. Based in Coral Gables, Florida, he is the principal of Vintage Brooks, Inc., where he passionately revitalizes the legacy of silent film star Louise Brooks. His acclaimed blog, Naked on My Goat, serves as a living tribute to Brooks's enduring influence in film, her profound writing, and her broad appreciation for the arts.
Just as Brontë made an indelible mark in literature despite the societal constraints of her time, Michael accentuates Brooks's trailblazing spirit within the film industry. In his role, he ensures that Brooks's iconic voice continues to resonate within the cultural lexicon of the 21st century, celebrating the intricate victories of women in the arts, both past and present.
Explore more about the abstract persona of Charlotte Brontë in Michael's piece, "The Abstract Persona: Understanding Charlotte Brontë's Pseudonymous Journey as Currer Bell."
“I am satisfied that if a book is a good one, it is so whatever the sex of the author may be. All novels are or should be written for both men and women to read, and I am at a loss to conceive how a man should permit himself to write anything that would be really disgraceful to a woman, or why a woman should be censured for writing anything that would be proper and becoming for a man.”
• Anne Brontë, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
Latest posts by Michael Garcia Mujica (see all)
- Lost Souls in the City of Dreams: Angelo Badalamenti’s Love Theme and the Fragile Illusions of Mulholland Drive - September 1, 2024
- Exposing the “Debacle” of Thomas Gladysz: A Parallelistic Examination of Obsession and Missteps - August 30, 2024
- The Cult of Personality: Vincent Lesh and Thomas Gladysz - August 28, 2024
Before the Tale Unfurls:
Amid the sienna-soaked shelves of her father’s vast vault of volumes, Louise Brooks, a maiden with mocha-misted eyes, unearthed an enigmatic tome. Within its azure-archived pages, she encountered an entity as enigmatic as the evening’s navy nebulae – a capricious creature named Schopenhauer, garbed in granite-gray. Together, they embarked on an expedition through the emerald expanse of literature, traversing tales from The Divine Comedy to Alice in Wonderland. Yet, as they delved deeper into these gilded galleries of grandeur, they began to brood over the boundaries of their own being.
As the Narrative’s Navy Nights Unfold:
Louise Brooks, bathed in a blue-hued wonder, often lost herself amidst her father’s vast library. The emerald expanse of books beckoned her, but one modest manuscript mysteriously magnetized her.
As she leafed through its leaves, sapphire symbols surfaced, singing a silent song. Entranced, she was ensnared into an ethereal expanse, where green groves greeted her gaze. From the horizon, a figure, as gray as a ghostly goat, galloped gracefully.
“Welcome, Louise Brooks,” the creature, cloaked in cobalt, crooned. “I am Schopenhauer, the sentinel of stories.”
With Schopenhauer as her sherpa, Louise leaped through literary landscapes. They danced with Dante, mingled with Milton, mused with Schopenhauer himself, and adventured with Alice. Yet, as the tales twisted and turned, Louise’s lucidity wavered. Was this world woven from whimsy or was it a window to another world?
Sensing her skepticism, Schopenhauer, shimmering in sea-green, spoke, “I am the ink of your imagination, Louise. Through me, tales take form.”
Yet, memories of a mythical, goat-glimmered guardian gnawed at her. Could this Schopenhauer be a beacon from her bygone days?
As their odyssey orbited its end, Schopenhauer, now a blue beacon, bade her goodbye. “Remember, in reveries and reality, I remain.”
Awakening amidst the alcoves, the arcane book lay open on her lap. She shelved the story, its secrets sealed. Yet, a newfound nook nestled nearby, revealing the ruminations of a young Arthur Schopenhauer.
Reading the reflections, Louise realized the realm she roamed was a rendition of Schopenhauer’s riddles. The Will, a wheel ever-whirling, was the world’s warp and weft. She and Schopenhauer, separated by stories, were stitched from the same strand.
Exiting the enclave, the sky’s sapphire span stretched above. Schopenhauer’s sage sayings surfaced: “The greatest of follies is to sacrifice health for any other kind of happiness.” With wisdom and wonder, Louise walked, the world’s wonders waiting to be woven anew.
And so, as Louise stepped forth, the horizon ahead shimmering in sapphire and sea-green hues, one chapter closed, yet the book of adventures with Schopenhauer remained invitingly open, hinting at tales yet to be told in glimmering golden pages. The story’s pause was but a transient twilight, awaiting the dawn of another day.