Death of Love Letters
Photo quote de jour
I transposed an excerpt of a love letter from Simone de Beauvoir to Jean-Paul Sartre over a photo I'd taken at their grave in Paris. There are always fresh flowers at their grave for the king and queen of writer/philosophers. They were lovers and spouses who eschewed fidelity or other marital traditions. They didn't live together, but they are buried together. Their words of love live on for future generations but I can't help wonder: would they be rolling in their graves knowing that the art of love letter has eroded from poetic words smelling of flowery ink on sweaty paper to e-mail or sexting "ur hot".
I transposed an excerpt of a love letter from Simone de Beauvoir to Jean-Paul Sartre over a photo I'd taken at their grave in Paris. There are always fresh flowers at their grave for the king and queen of writer/philosophers. They were lovers and spouses who eschewed fidelity or other marital traditions. They didn't live together, but they are buried together. Their words of love live on for future generations but I can't help wonder: would they be rolling in their graves knowing that the art of love letter has eroded from poetic words smelling of flowery ink on sweaty paper to e-mail or sexting "ur hot".
Posted by Layla Morgan Wilde at 2/9/2010 11:59 AM 
Categories: Design, Writing, Photography
Tags: sartre de Beauvoir love letters
Categories: Design, Writing, Photography
Tags: sartre de Beauvoir love letters
Layla, this image is genius. Thank you so much for putting it together and for sharing it. The idea that people really loved like this is so moving that I'm glad there is such a place that is for real.
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Glad you enjoyed it!
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Hell is others, indeed
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Wow, a remarkable letter and a gorgeous photograph of the grave of 'de Beauvoir/Sartre' my favorite 'couple', as you can imagine, having grown up in an academic and European environment, much like yourself.
I had an Olympia typewriter, a manual, which I was told, was the same model Sartre used to write Being and Nothingness. My favorite work of his is Sans Camera (No exit), Huis-Clos.
"L'Enfer, c'est les autres."
Of de Beauvoir, I told my stepmother, when I was a teen, I wanted to be like her. To live with someone but not marry.
She wrote beautifully of her mother's death in 'Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter," a shortish book, but very poetic.
Just now, I went to Wiki and read the entries on this most famous philosopher-duo.
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The decline of romance. It's sad to think kids these days aren't reciving proper love letters; ones to cherish, bundled up in ribbons and gazed upon in old age.
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The art of quill pen and parchment paper and words from ones own heart and not that of a paid robot at Hallmark is long gone I'm afraid lost forever. Thank you for sharing this.
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Lovely transposition of text and image. I read de Beauvoir's memoirs what seems like a thousand years ago and found her rather cool. Hard to imagine either she or Sartre experiencing grande passions, but of course people are so multi-faceted. They were both so engulfed in ideas.
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Intellectual yes, but I think they scorched a few sheets, at least early in their relationship.
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