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Anaïs Nin~Louveciennes

My house is two hundred years old. It has walls a yard thick, a big garden, a very large green iron gate for cars, flanked by a smaller gate for people. The big garden is in the back of the house…Anaïs Nin.

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Angela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell (February 21, 1903 – January 14, 1977), known professionally as Anaïs Nin, was an American diarist, essayist, novelist, and writer of short stories. Born to Cuban parents in France, Nin was the daughter of composer Joaquín Nin and Rosa Culmell, a classically trained singer. Although Nin spent some time in Spain and Cuba, she lived in Paris and in the United States, where she became an established author.

Her journals describe her marriages to Hugh Parker Guiler and Rupert Pole, in addition to her numerous affairs, including those with psychoanalyst Otto Rank and writer Henry Miller, both of whom profoundly influenced Nin and her writing.

Anaïs had two husbands — one in  Los Angeles and one in New York , 

Anaïs Nin and her husband Rupert Pole

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Anaïs Nin and her husband Hugh Guiler

Anaïs Nin’s reputation came from her diaries. She documented her life as a writer, artist and woman. She became a cult figure on campuses in America in the 60’s and early 70’s. Anaïs lived her life as a liberated woman and became a feminist heroine. The diaries are considered to be mainly fictional, illusions and lies.

While the diaries are considered mainly fictional, Anaïs writes about the many writers and artists that she knew. Her love affair with Henry Miller when she lived at Louveciennes  is well-known and the two writers stayed friends for life.

Her obsession with allusions, water and mirrors, and houses, reflected her own imagining of her life.

Living her life as a work of art wasn’t always easy but it must have been enchanting!

Elise

 

 

 

 

 

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A Writer’s Notebook – Anais Nin

 

 

AnaisninAnaïs Nin (Spanish: [anaˈis ˈnin]; born Angela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell; February 21, 1903 – January 14, 1977) was an author born to Cuban parents in France, where she was also raised. She spent some time in Spain and Cuba but lived most of her life in the United States where she became an established author. She wrote journals (which span more than 60 years, beginning when she was 11 years old and ending shortly before her death), novels, critical studies, essays, short stories, and erotica. A great deal of her work, including Delta of Venus and Little Birds, was published posthumously.

Quoted: Wikipedia.

One of my favourite authors, Anais Nin wrote of dreams and the communication through signs and symbols of the human psyche.

Anais wrote of the novels that were appearing in the 1930s and 1940s that they over-simplified the human psyche and reduced it through rational analyses. ‘To much lucidity,’ she says, ‘creates a desert.’  

Her work is defined by a poetic and universal reality.There are enigmas and mysteries. Her world is peopled by individuals and she finds their reality by observing and not by analytical procedures. Anais was much more in touch with European poetry than American realism.

She writes in Seduction of the Minotaur:

Lillian’s recurrent dream of a ship that could not reach the water, that sailed laboriously, pushed by her with great effort, through city streets, had determined her course toward the sea, as if she would give this ship once and for all, its proper seabed.

And in Collages:

What I wanted to teach you is contained in one page of the dictionary. It is all the words beginning with ‘trans’: transfigure, transport, transcend, translucent, transgression, transform, transmit, transmute, transpiret and all the trans-Siberian voyages.

Since I first discovered Anais Nin I have collected all her work. Her diaries can be dipped into and beautiful words are always found. Words that link together into sentences that show us how to live. The artist’s life.

Anais lived for many years in Silver Lake, a residential neighborhood in Los Angeles, California.

She was married to Rupert Pole, magnetically handsome, who was first an actor and then became a forest ranger. He was Anais Nin’s California husband. She had a New York husband, Hugh Guiler, whom she always called Hugo, and had married when she was very young.

From The Journals of Anais Nin, Volume Seven 1966-1974

The pool is steaming like those pools in the mountains of Japan, everything through glass, through prisms, the amethyst water squires a different dimension, it enlarges itself, its colours: it is so beautiful.

My friend designed a very beautiful diary book, handmade, with soft Japanese rice paper and in gold on the red leather cover, my handwritten diary signature: “Mon Journal–Anais Nin”. I was determined that no illness would be recorded in this diary. So I decided to make it a diary of music. I will only write in it when the musicians come, when I hear music. And it will be a separate part of my life.

Anais Nin sort luminosity and the quality of phosphorescence in her work. I have always loved fairytales and her work is made up of fables and signs and omens so I relate to it and understand the power of these things: the labyrinth in which one loses oneself and with luck finds the way through, the boat that is pushed through city streets to the sea.  Her work possesses a magnetic quality I am drawn to and reread often. What better books to have in my life but hers.

Good writing,

Elise

 

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Anais Nin

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6ckT2YNSio

Anais Nin and Henry Miller in conversation.

I have read the diaries of Anais Nin. She was a woman who did not live a mundane life but always searched for the beautiful and unusual. I have been reading her diaries and other writings for over thirty years and still enjoy them immensely. I purchased several from the Arcane Bookshop  in Northbridge when I lived in Perth and worked at the Western Australian Museum. They now reside happily on my forever bookshelf with all her other diaries.

 

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Anais Nin and Henry Miller

Lovers and always friends

“Anaïs, I don’t know how to tell you what I feel. I live in perpetual expectancy. You come and the time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late. You numb me.
This is a little drunken, Anaïs. I am saying to myself “here is the first woman with whom I can be absolutely sincere.” I remember your saying – “you could fool me, I wouldn’t know it.” When I walk along the boulevards and think of that. I can’t fool you – and yet I would like to. I mean that I can never be absolutely loyal – it’s not in me. I love women, or life, too much – which it is, I don’t know. But laugh, Anaïs, I love to hear you laugh. You are the only woman who has a sense of gaiety, a wise tolerance – no more, you seem to urge me to betray you. I love you for that.
I don’t know what to expect of you, but it is something in the way of a miracle. I am going to demand everything of you – even the impossible, because you encourage it. You are really strong. I even like your deceit, your treachery. It seems aristocratic to me.”
Henry Miller (A Literate Passion : Letters of Anais Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

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My Writing Journey

A busy week with a writers group workshop and working on my WIP. I have particularly enjoyed re-working my Northern California chapter. I love research and the area I have set my story in is particularly beautiful. I will finish editing this chapter today. So not a lot to write about re my own writing as I have my head down and my fingers are typing as fast as they can. The main thing is that I have written or edited something everyday so as not to get away from my story.

An excerpt:   It was a place where a hundred generations of feet had padded across the soft brown pine needles. She imagined gold-bearing rocks beside dry trails, meadows and wild bees and the smell of wood-smoke laced with maple branches.

I like the way Americans call pastures ‘meadows’  and small towns ‘villages’ part of their English heritage I guess.  I was wondering if Americans use the word ‘pastures’  as well? Perhaps one of my American readers could let me know and also do you ever use the word ’track’ rather than ’trail’?

As promised some more thoughts about Aprons

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids, And when the weather was cold grandma wrapped it around her arms,

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brown, bent over the hot wood stove, Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron, From the garden, it carried all sort of vegetables, After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls, In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees, When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds, When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folks knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner. It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that ‘old-time apron’ that served so many purposes. REMEMBER  Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool. Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw. They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron. I don’t think anyone ever caught anything from an apron but love.

 ANAIS NIN

When she was searching for inspiration, she would study drawings sent to her by fans, sit on the floor and sift through personal photographs or walk outside to listen to mockingbirds. ‘Their melody is important to my work and life here,’ she said in a 1973 documentary. ‘I want my writing to levitate.’ Sometimes, she would bring a hand-held tape recorder to capture their songs. If all else failed, she would swim.

Have a good writing week, Elise

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My Writing Journey

I had a good writing week.  I only have a couple of thousand words to write to finish my last chapter (there are still a couple of ones I have to write) then it’s editing and finishing some research. I left my short story unfinished but I may decide to  finish it as I don’t love it as I should. I also sorted through masses of clippings, print-outs and outlines for stories  long forgotten. I did find some interesting pieces saved from years ago. One is on the history of aprons. I sent it to my friend Bianca  and she wrote back:

I absolutely love it. It has to be high on my list of favourites, bringing back memories of my childhood in our little flat in Littlehampton when Mum used to work miracles in what was a landing (or free space area) converted into a little kitchen, where two was a crowd.

I don’t think our kids know what an apron is. The principal use of Grandma’s apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few. It was also easier to wash aprons than dresses and aprons used less material.

But along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven. It was wonderful for drying children’s tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears. From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

I will continue the history of aprons next week.

The last verse of:

The Song of Wandering Aengus

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

The song is one of my favourite poems.

This is a description of the home of Anais Nin and Rupert Pole in the hills of Silver Lake, near L. A.

A glass- and-concrete house on a hilly Silver Lake street.

Eric Lloyd Wright, a third-generation architect designed the house for his half-brother Rupert and Anais.

In the sixth volume of her Diary, Anais described the one-storey dwelling perched above the city as ‘one large studio, no separate, small partitions. It had the sense of space of Japanese houses; it had the vista of a Japanese screen, all sky, mountains, lake, as if one lived out of doors. Yet the roof, held by its heavy beams, gave a feeling of protection while the big windows which separated the roof from the studio framed the flight of birds, the sailing of clouds.’  What I love most is the feeling of light and space that Anais writes about in their home. And there’s a small interior Japanese garden cut into the floor near one of the glass panels of the living room wall, where Anais would etch swirls in the sand with a small hand shovel. The stone fireplace, she wrote, was ‘like that of a castle’. There was a grand piano and packed bookshelves.

LITERARY TIP OF THE DAY the verb ‘WAS

 I read recently ‘WAS’ is a passive word. Do not let anyone tell you  it is. ‘WAS’ is infrequently passive, and is a part of good English. It is a wonderful verb. If it suits your story use it freely.

English is fun. It is a flexible language for telling stories.

Have a good writing week and to all a Happy New Year, Elise x

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Anais Nin Reads from her Diary

Click below to hear Anais Nin read from her journal.

http://youtu.be/mm3poQhOn1E 

I have a collection of books written by Anais Nin collected over the last thirty years including her journals.

Anaïs Nin (Spanish: ana’is ’nin; born Angela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell, February 21, 1903 – January 14, 1977) was an American author born to Spanish-Cuban parents in France, where she was also raised. She spent some time in Spain and Cuba but lived most of her life in the United States where she became an established author. She published journals(which span more than 60 years, beginning when she was 11 years old and ending shortly before her death), novels, critical studies, essays, short stories, and erotica. A great deal of her work, including Delta of Venus and Little Birds, was published posthumously.

“I am the most tired woman in the world. I am tired when I get up. Life requires an effort I cannot make. Please give me that heavy book. I need to put something heavy like that on top of my head. I have to place my feet under the pillows always, so as to be able to stay on earth. Otherwise I feel myself going away, going away at a tremendous speed, on account of my lightness. I know that I am dead. As soon as I utter a phrase my sincerity dies, becomes a lie whose coldness chills me. Don’t say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you.”

Anais Nin

Photo Carl van Vechten (1880-1964)

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Anais Nin

I have long admired Anais Nin, the woman and the writer. In 1972 she talked about mechanical voices taking the place of human intimacies. In 2012 this is definately true. But a blog is rather like a diary, or as she preferred to call it, a journal. It is something we can share with the millions of people. I’m not sure Anais would have approved of blogs, but as a writer who wanted to share her work with many people, perhaps she would have.

Anais Nin Audios

1. Studs Terkel Interview
January 1972, Northwestern University
A musical introduction is interrupted with Nin reading from her fourth Diary. This passage could have been written today as she talks about technology and how it has a potential to create greater distances, not bridge them.
“We have reached a hastier and superficial rhythm, now that we believe we are in touch with a greater amount of people, more people, more countries. This is the allusions which might cheat us of being in touch deeply with the one breathing right next to us. It is a dangerous time when mechanical voices, radios, telephone, take the place of human intimacies, and the concept of being in touch with millions brings a greater, and greater poverty in intimacy and human vision.”
Terkel talks about the young’s attraction to her work. Nin talks about her relationship with them, about Edmund Wilson not remaining open as he aged and how all of her other artist friends have remained open. Nin talks about Under a Glass Bell “This book which seems to be all fantasy and actually every one of those stories is based on a real persons, on a real situation, they begin in reality and take their roots in reality….then I embroider on that.” They discuss Nin’s houseboat, the story and themes of displacement. They discuss DH Lawrence and his relationship with feminism. Nin quotes him and says how she is not as harsh on Lawrence as others. Terkel prompts Nin to read a passage about woman and her conflicts to find her own language and discover her own feelings. Nin mentions her personal issue from growing up, “I had a sense of guilt about creating and being successful before my brothers were.” Nin is pleased the diary gives her a way to examine her own growth, “The mystery of growth was always terribly interesting to me as a child.”
Nin remains steadfast in her appreciation of men and what they had given her, “I used man’s knowledge and that is why I am grateful for him, whether it was psychology…I took what was useful and left the rest. I learned from them, I learned freedom from Miller and converted it into feminine terms. I don’t think we need to let certain things stand in the way, we need to convert them.” Nin then discusses her feelings on analysis, “analysis is only for when we get troubled.” They talk about the press and Nin reads a passage about Gonzalo. Terkel is familiar with Nin’s work and seems charmed with her. He is highly familiar with her writings and prompts her numerous times to read passages. His analysis of the work is astute and Nin even comments on his reading of her work, “You seem compassionate in your reading of these characters.” One of Nin’s final comments, “I do not like dogma and will not wage war on man.” They end the interview discussing how the conversation could easily continue and they discuss the origins and pronunciation of her name.
http://www.stevenreigns.com
Steven Reigns is a poet, artist, and educator living in Los Angeles.
A collector of Nin memorabilia and a latent Nin scholar, he has been interested in Nin since 1991.

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