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Cluster index: Anthony Rudolf


Anthony Rudolf: ‘Posing for months on end for one statuette, with great pride and high hopes that it would be completed and cast and displayed in a glass case, Pauline watched the artist desperately try to improve and complete it. No such luck.’

Observing the suffering self.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘His philosophy was practical and his practice, developed during years of work when his resilience and courage were tested, had affinities with aspects of, on the one hand, the existential psychotherapy of Viktor Frankl and Hans Cohn (like Heimler, Cohn was also a poet) and, on the other hand, cognitive behavioural therapy, later to become so popular.’

The Hills and the Desert.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘Jabès left Egypt for Paris after Suez. Vigée, after almost a year in the Jewish Resistance based in Toulouse (he was the last survivor), left for the USA where, as a French poet, he was an exile.’

Musa Moris Farhi.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘During these years Musa’s earlier defence of Nazim Hikmet saw new expression in what would become a life-long commitment to the writers’ organisation P.E.N. Around 1970 he became particularly involved in the work of P.E.N. to defend writers in prison, one of the best human rights causes in the world. Eventually he became chair of the national and international committee. Human rights have to be defended always and everywhere and not only in the obvious countries, the usual suspects.”

Nigel Foxell.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘I was a friend but not an intime, which perhaps enables a certain distance and objectivity with which to write what has to be called an interim assessment, which I hope will be of use to future writers. I have tried to make sense – with occasional deviations, hesitations and repetitions (to coin a phrase) – of the life of a man who loved women and equally loved the all-male universe of his club.’

Keith Bosley.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘”His poems”, writes Owen Lowery, “are imbued with a sense of attachment and there is sometimes regret at the processes of modernisation and urbanisation. Bosley’s poetry frequently expresses further regret at missed opportunities, especially with regard to relationships and the complications of social class and family”.

Zbigniew Jaroslaw Kotowicz.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘His untimely death saddens his circle of close friends, artists, writers, scholars and psychotherapists, to whom he remained fiercely loyal across time and space. We cherished his singularity, his depth, his kindness, his sardonic humour and his devotion to the values he held dear. In the words of a former associate of R.D. Laing, Leon Redler: “I didn’t know Zbigniew well but when he comes to mind now it’s with resonances of a critical intelligence, integrity and courage”. ‘


Yves Bonnefoy: And always to quays at night, to bars, to a voice saying I am the lamp, I am the oil.

Two visits to Paris.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘Outside the door, I realised that Yves was treating his last days (as he thought, but in fact his last weeks) as something natural for a man of his age in full possession of his faculties. He was contemplating the end without fear, with curiosity. It was an extraordinary privilege to participate in the final scene of the fifth — or should that be seventh — act of a great writer and close friend, whose dying was a lesson in life to someone twenty years his junior. ‘

Yves Bonnefoy.

Anthony Rudolf: ‘Hier régnant désert (1958), L’Improbable (1959) and Rimbaud par lui-même (1961) changed my life nearly fifty years ago, and remain potent, as transformative elements in life always do. When I read them, I knew I must have a life on the page, because the page is where the forms of life speak to us most deeply. ‘

The Curved Planks, Dear Paula, a postscript, and a note on Paula Rego.

Yves Bonnefoy (to Paula Rego): ‘Paula, you put speech to the test of night. The frail voice which sought the clearest and simplest truth in the relationship between people, you bury it, as a mountain crumbles, under the multiplying voices that you hear crashing around inside you, as they protest violently, crazily, angrily, in the abyss of the unconscious. Your dark revelations have become the entire sky, the entire earth. What will remain of the hope of this child who has arrived from nowhere, clutching in his clenched fist what he needs to pay for his passage?

Everything, in my opinion.’