Monday, May 28, 2012



y la noche olorosa como un mate curado versos catorce - Jorge Luís Borges


Every once in a while I take a perfect photograph. I must define here what I mean by a perfect photograph. It could not possibly be a Platonic Essence, the essence that is the perfect photograph. If that were the case any other photograph would pale and I would only be able to take one perfect photograph in my life. By perfect I mean perfect for a precise situation.

Years back with my two Argentine artist friends Juan Manuel Sánchez, Nora Patrich and with a beautiful Argentine subject, Linda Lorenzo we embarked on an almost year-long project in pursuit of what we called Argentine nostalgia. Since all four of us were in Vancouver we could jointly reminisce on our nostalgia for a place we longed for, more than anything because we were not there (Argentina) but here (Vancouver).

We told each other of our personal nostalgias and then found ways of sketching, painting and taking photographs of Linda Lorenzo in poses that would illustrate our longing.

My father’s mate (note no accent! it  is pronunced with emphasis on the first syllable mah-teh) is an Argentine gourd in which you drink the dried cut up Ilex paraguariensis (or yerba mate [note, no accent], Ilex is the botanical name for holly ). My father’s mate must be at least 70 years old and we used it at home in Buenos Aires since we can remember. The drinking of the tea is quite ceremonial and only one is used. It is filled with hot water (never boiling) and one person at a time drinks it. You can see that in our penchant for cleanliness this social custom would not fly in Canada.

I rarely drink the mate by myself because drinking it is social. If you go to Montevideo you will see young couples on the street, in parks, on bridges sipping the mate. One of them will be holding a special thermos with the hot water (the special thermos that pours the hot water precisely into the small opening of the mate is a Uruguayan invention).

Linda Lorenzo & Juan Manuel Sánchez

Every time Rebecca, my 14 year-old granddaughter asks me if we can have a mate I rejoice. We sit down in the living room or outside on a sunny bench and we sip. I like my mate without sugar but just to keep the peace and enjoy what for me is a unique sharing experience with Rebecca, I allow her to use sugar.

To like mate is an acquired taste and Rebecca started early when we would visit Nora Patrich and Juan Manuel Sánchez.

The photograph of Linda Lorenzo is in a prominent place on my living room wall. The title underneath is

Y la noche olorosa como un mate curado
Versos catorce
Jorge Luís Borges

When I was looking for a suitable title to enhance my feeling of nostalgia for my father’s mate I found this Borges poem which is extremely beautiful but, I will not translate (sorry).

Versos de catorce
Jorge Luís Borges

A mi ciudad de patios cóncavos como cántaros
y de calles que surcan las leguas como un vuelo,
a mi ciudad de esquinas con aureola de ocaso
y arrabales azules, hechos de firmamento,


a mi ciudad que se abre clara como una pampa,
yo volví de las tierras antiguas del naciente
y recobré sus casas y la luz de sus casas
y esa modesta luz que urgen los almacenes


y supe en las orillas, del querer, que es de todos
y a punta de poniente desangré el pecho en salmos
y canté la aceptada costumbre de estar solo
y el retazo de pampa colorada de un patio.


Dije las calesitas, noria de los domingos
y el paredón que agrieta la sombra de un paraíso,
y el destino que acecha tácito, en el cuchillo,
y la noche olorosa como un mate curado.


Yo presentí la entraña de la voz las orillas,
palabra que en la tierra pone el azar del agua
y que da a las afueras su aventura infinita
y a los vagos campitos un sentido de playa.


Así voy devolviéndole a Dios unos centavos
del caudal infinito que me pone en las manos.
Jorge Luís Borges
Luna de enfrente (1925)



What is interesting is that the line

Y la noche olorosa como un mate curado


is a line Borges used before in 1923 in this poem right at the first line:


Caminata
Jorge Luís Borges




Olorosa como un mate curado
la noche acerca agrestes lejanías
y despeja las calles
que acompañan mi soledad,
hechas de vago miedo y de largas líneas.




La brisa trae corazonadas de campo,
dulzura de las quintas, memorias de los álamos,
que harán temblar bajo rigideces de asfalto
la detenida tierra viva
que oprime el peso de las casas.


En vano la furtiva noche felina
inquieta los balcones cerrados
que en la tarde mostraron
la notoria esperanza de las niñas.


También está el silencio en los zaguanes.
En la cóncava sombra
vierten un tiempo vasto y generoso
los relojes de la medianoche magnífica,
un tiempo caudaloso
donde todo soñar halla cabida,
tiempo de anchura de alma, distinto
de los avaros términos que miden
las tareas del día.


Yo soy el único espectador de esta calle;
si dejara de verla se moriría.
(Advierto un largo paredón erizado
de una agresión de aristas
y un farol amarillo que aventura
su indecisión de luz.
También advierto estrellas vacilantes).


Grandiosa y viva
como el plumaje oscuro de un Ángel
cuyas alas tapan el día,
la noche pierde las mediocres calles.
Jorge Luís Borges
Fervor de Buenos Aires (1923)

What the sentence means is that the night is fragrant with something similar to a well used mate. You cannot use a mate (the gourd) right away. Some cure it by using sugar and others might use brandy. I have no idea how my father cured his mate. I do know that its fragrance brings me a nostalgia for my country, my city, my home, my parents and some day soon, when my granddaughter is grown up (and if I am still around) a warm memory of our moments shared sipping yerba mate from my father’s mate. And who knows? Might I not take another perfect photograph with the same mate but with her?

Fragrant as a Cured Mate

Un Verde I gave the mate illustrated here to Rebecca last year. She uses it often.