painters who also wrote poetry

painters who also wrote poetry

Were I to tie poetry, primordially, to any other art, it would be to music, to primitive song and chant.\rTerreson (not Terrence), Terreson,\rI say exactly that: cave art didn’t start at Lascaux.\rCiting the post:\r“The best know examples date back 17,000 years to the cave paintings in Lascaux and elsewhere. A cliche is inaccessible because it holds nothing–there is nothing to go into. If you have to annotate a text you'll be expected to write down comments, ideas and explanations next to the text itself. But unless you're a film nerd, you're probably not familiar with the screenplays he co-wrote with fellow Spanish surrealist Luis Buñuel, Un Chien Andalou (1929) and L'Age d'Or (1930). These books, besides being monuments of contemporary criticism (especially the more formal Other Traditions) will show Ashbery from another angle in that they connect more directly with the man himself.\rHere, as well, is a marvelous video, in which the poet shares an "autobiographical" poem with us - written by accident, or so he says. It also seems to me possible, if not likely, that poetry was around before those first representational paintings in the caves. I respectfully disagree with much of what you say, but that's old news. Does that make it any more or less? Ashbery is one with Gertrude Stein and her nitrous oxide mentor, William James (and his brother Henry James, also used explicitly by Ashbery in a review by Ashbery of Gertrude Stein's writings when Ashbery was a young reviewer--one can SEE it very easily) and it's now part of the accepted canon of modern culture, Stephen Burt in his new book on contemporary poetry, displayed prominently at the Harvard Coop, merely has to say in passing "Ashbery hung out with abstract painters" in his introduction of 'how we got here. The painter cannot add\rMore paint, the director cannot shout out to his actors\rIn the middle of the performance, the poet cannot\rAmend a line while the published version is scanned by a reader.\rBut as the distinction becomes more and more blurred\rBetween the study of poetry and the enjoyment of poetry,\rThe result is precisely what we would expect in poetry now:\rPoems with an unfinished quality, as if the poet did not want\rThe process to end, was reluctant to let his poem go,\rAs if the poet could, in fact, have continued writing the poem\rForever, so that the length of the poem (the ultimate form of any\rPoem being its length) is determined by "rehearsal time," not by\rThe "poem's time." Desmond Swords wrote:\r"I find it odd, here we are, all working at various levels and in various degrees of seriousness, in the contemporary Poetry biz, which is entirely formed by and run along competitive lines, where Prize and Winning is (almost) the sole measure of poetic success to most, and yet one of the very operators at the heart of the industry, a sinecured near-ollamh with wit and intelligence, refuses to play the game of speech in print. If you stopped 50,000 Americans randomly on the street, I'd wager not one would know any of these lines. I got somethin' to say ta yooouuuu..."\r"Oh, no, have you been reading Ashbery again? Thank you, how it creates its conversation with what I was trying to articulate & continues my reaching. I’m always open to writing essay-reviews. This is particularly true of Diving Bell, which is nothing but the world according to Bauby; the scene in which the character's right eye is sewn shut, depicted in POV, literally puts you right in the center of Bauby's horror (and serves as a visual homage to Dalí and Buñuel). I dare to claim I match Brady in eloquence of composition & then some, in my actual work, as opposed to my comments on a blog.\rI didn't read yr entire post, of course, but:\r1. Concentrated. \rNot the innaccessible, not the flat! Christopher: I spent a year traveling down through Latin America in the 90's, hanging out with poets. This was a kind of proto-writing still based in copying the shapes of nature. It was an odd use of the word in any case. And yet the first representational art was found near Schelklingen in Germany and dates back the to beginnings of the Upper Paleolithic period, 35, to 40,000 years ago. I think I will henceforth put all my comments here at the bottom of the thread and refer up to which one I am addressing.\rMy comment above:\rThank you Michael for this bit; it’s wonderfully lucid and dovetails with what Ashbery has recently said, that if he has a subject, it’s time.\rMartin\rPOSTED BY: MEARL ON JUNE 22, 2009 AT 6:08 PM\rwas referring to Michael's comment of JUNE 22, 2009 AT 12:47 PM, and particularly to the following sentence: \r"Ashbery is endlessly preoccupied with the criteria of poetic speakers & poetic time. ", Thank you Michael for this bit; it's wonderfully lucid and dovetails with what Ashbery has recently said, that if he has a subject, it's time.\rMartin. ", my brother, who's an artist in nyc, has spent the last ten years of his existence seeking out space to make his art. To the religiously dogmatic, God has a point; but to the erudite who embrace a more random view of the universe, Ashbery's restraint, his 'never getting to the point' seems to them almost divine. my soap? There were simply not enough people on Harriet saying, as you do, wake up guys, what you’re doing has serious limitations, not only in terms of impact, but even formal limitations. Michael Robbins here has shown himself to be such a reader. \rI'd also add that each of the arts is nurtured by its kissing cousins. Dylan Thomas was a huge, heroic bag of selfish wind that came out in full song, and even today you can meet up with him all over the place in Wales, and even more so in Connemara.\rWas he posing to bring all that into the reading hall and recording studio after he was famous? "\r I don't think Philip Larkin or Dylan Thomas tried to create a public persona, I think they were one--which is an astonishing dimension in them both, and one which gives their work such power and legitimacy. tho not caught, and La Fontaine's...& then, for the reach for a different humbling, back to Thomas' night, not daylight...:\rIn My Craft or Sullen Art\rIn my craft or sullen art\rExercised in the still night\rWhen only the moon rages\rAnd the lovers lie abed\rWith all their griefs in their arms,\rI labor by singing light\rNot for ambition or bread\rOr the strut and trade of charms\rOn the ivory stages\rBut for the common wages\rOf their most secret heart.\rNot for the proud man apart\rFrom the raging moon I write\rOn these spindrift pages\rNor for the towering dead\rWith their nightingales and psalms\rBut for the lovers, their arms\rRound the griefs of the ages,\rWho pay no praise or wages\rNor heed my craft or art. I've been working against a major deadline this week. This divided view of Ashbery is the crack in the House of Modernism, that divide which rips in two the Public for Poetry, since Modernism will always seem to be AGAINST the general public before it seems FOR anything else. For those who do not dig poetry in its truest form but would love to get started on creating poems, maybe this is a good start. and self-knowledge. [just joshin, as Desmond Swords taught me to say earlier this morning---wow, I'm almost blog literate! It is dark space indeed, very dark, even in midday. To get my cats to take pills, I coat the pills in butter. The small, coddling, nature of the poetry world is certainly a problem, too. "\rYou see? And the body's...the photo's...resonance, to me at least, to the Youtube poem that Annie Finch posted on her other thread here - (whispered from a rooftop in Teheran this week, while shouts of the quotidian filled the flickering dark below that voice) -- what more may we ask of poetry, on this day? Maybe you've heard of that? Hunters in the Snow, William Carlos Williams (1962) The over-all picture is winter. I'm not in the business of "letting people have it."\rM. Michael...have you never been caught in the three card monty...the pea under the shell? Who are you calling a liberal?\r3. The essay suggests that earliest human art was representational and that poetry is tied to this first instance of cave painting. we are constantly facing the severe limitations of our favorite medium, and trying to break free. What's the matter with you"\r"Ha ha, hee, hee, I saaaiiid...! Richard is, by consensus, the most important Pessoa scholar and translator working today. This would make him more human than I've thought of him.\rTerreson. Poets are attracted to the symbolic and pictographic traces of their own language in painting. Having researched what people were doing on the blog before I arrived, I figured that there was a need for that. Altafish, Babel, Shylock... machine translators guaranteed to make babble out of whatever you feed them. Five thirty am, the inconsequential of inconsequential of day nowhere unmistakable, two candles illuminating the mahogany emerge of his desk, haloing pens, inkstand, saddened pages. What you say about John Ashbery reminds me of bound feet, Michael Robbins.\r \rHow beautiful the gait in the cool imperial household, how delicately refined, porcelain movements behind the screen, willow sheltered, ancient blue, perfect nuanced white frozen on the plate.\rWorth studying in the study, worth having all that free time and deep thoughts to settle late at night.\rWorth the pain, the cruel mess of toes crushed into a tiny, shrieking sausage.\rWorth the light girl lost, worth the lost skip. \rAnd do we ever get to the end of that?\rDoes the poem ever stop singing after that?\rChristopher, In case you hadn't noticed, dear Martin et. Girls are girls and they skip. What's wrong with proscription?\r2. It requires no more. My dear fellow, where do you think you are, in the house or in a brothel? Christopher lives in Oklahoma City with his fiancée Lauren and their two mostly well-behaved cats. And whether what they encode is a deep-seated resentment of intellectual discourse; not simply that of Ashbery's poetry itself, but the cottage critical industry that has sprung up around it. Jeez, Michael...I was trying to stick for you. Thomas Mann brought the same mahogany desk from Germany to Switzerland, to California and then back to Zurich. The moon-drenched kite lying against a bulwark looked like a stellar ray that had just dropped there like a sign of the Zodiac. in … The anti-intellectualism of this blog has always been wearying. \rMartin. And if you can't tell the difference between posts on a blog & poems or essays, well, I can't help you. [interpolation...] His just music, the injure of the nib as it begins to complete the desolate pages. From what perspective might one imagine oneself capable of claiming to have tried each thing? My final verdict: watch the short films, skip the book, unless you're in the mood for some crazy-ass, nonsensical prose—which is okay. Yep. The word is "mimesis." Unity of effect is perhaps the single most important criterion in aesthetics; poets once understood this; now they do not. \rI wrote that PL lived and died "a very unified and sensible identity," but I wasn't implying by that that he was "integrated" (what is more "individuated!") Writing a poem is always an act of inheritance, a struggle with a lineage. Now who's being mean? In this sense, they are very similar to the real fools, clowns, and jesters of the time, but their characteristics are greatly heightened for theatrical effect. ", Don,\rYou're right, Ashbery's review of Stein is 'balanced;' I said as much; Ashbery said Stein's work was "annoying" and "tedious" but, then, as I was at some pains to point out, he talks of moments of pleasant surprise. Well, I'm no poetry expert, so let's review a sample from Picasso's The Dream and Lie of Franco: silver bells & cockle shells & guts braided in a row The man produced some pretty trippy and interesting images, many of which are instantly recognizable. You, Gary, have no criticism--except as it is expressed in your poetry--your cave painting poem, and almost all your poems, tend to produce critical ideas: "no, *this* is why they painted those animals!" . The order in his studio is impeccable; filled with antiquarian trinkets, a crisp bourgeois density pervades. My girlfriend just read this & she said "So you are a hired killer from space and the other people on the message board are drunks in Boston? Final:\rThe image of Thomas Mann at his writing desk is, for me, emblematic. Shift to your typical painter’s studio: the smell of turpentine and oils, dust, canvas, glue, cigarette smoke. Part of his genius was NOT to pretend to be somebody else, and by so doing he made his lower middle class experience not only interesting but deep and noble. And if there are any other visual artists who took to the pen not mentioned here, shout out in the comments section. If Picasso is the Prince of Cubism, then surely Dalí is the King of Surrealism. There are the towering examples, from Michelangelo to Gertrude Stein, Cummings to John Ashbery, who for many years made his living as an art critic, while pretty much refusing to engage in literary criticism. And then some dogs enter the stage and proceed to lick everyone. Covering the exhibition for the New Haven Independent, Allen Appel reports that Picasso's obsession with words stemmed largely from his association with Gertrude Stein, "that word-experimentalist par excellence," who reportedly told Picasso, "Anyone who can paint like you, Pablo, has no business hanging out with other painters," and advised him to befriend other writers instead. sky at the same time. I agree with Martin and Christopher yours is a good poem.\rI don't know if what I'm writing is relevant to Martin's thread. It has come into the world, a triumph, and lives in glory by itself and alone. Rebus writing was already part of Egyptian culture by 340 BCE, whence modern alphabets began to form. GO GET SOME INSPIRATION –> For this poetry prompt about about a painting, start by reading “Field With Wheat Stacks” by Barbara Crooker and give some thought to what you like/admire. For the arts wanting ongoing conversations with one another. I think you've all either been through, or too near, or judged too often by an academic system that so emphasizes secondary material that you're afraid of the text. Of course, the death of painting has been announced several times, perhaps most explicitly by the Russian constructivist, Aleksander Mikhailovich Rodchenko. But toward the end of the poem we move into the night, which fails to distinguish the immortal from the mortal, the constrained from the free: night is a place for the mortal, the small, the personal, not the "great formal affair" that "takes in the whole world" which preoccupies daytime thoughts. These austere "stanzas" are made up almost entirely of colorless connecting words such as "where," "which," "these," "of," "not," "have," "about," and so on, though now and then Miss Stein throws in an orange, a lilac, or an Albert to remind us that it really is the world, our world, that she has been talking about. I told him many young people do that, and that I myself had been through exactly the same problem at the beginning---that I had in fact abandoned writing poetry altogether at the age of 20 for 30 years, no less, because I was so bedeviled by the dirty tricks and deliberately misleading sleights the poet in me unpacked in everything I wrote at the time. "\rAshbery is obviously depressed. Long before I read the information I was in Toledo. Later we’d make dinner, drink wine, and talk about his paintings. Like Rembrandt before him, with his almost psychoanalytic insistence on the self-portrait, Beethoven was already in departure mode. I don't see it so.I see that your quest, Martin, to remind how the arts interlace--is a valuable one, and adds to my own. Scan the poem and delve a bit deeper into the subject matter. Schnabel was particularly prominent in the New York City scene for his "plate paintings"—massive works adorned with broken pieces of ceramic dining ware and paint. The moon was near full. The Library of Congress promotes poetry and literature year-round through our online and in-person programs, our honors and prizes, and our ambassadors. What Would Books Look Like If Big Publishing Collapsed? So? Do not know who he is, but in his double comment to Gary, Thomas Brady has clearly presented views which resonate favorably with those of us who do not particularly care to learn this and/or that theory in order to unlock (get into) a particular work (poem, painting, song, etc.). The sob sister at induce. I find a great gas, because it's like shooting fish in a barrel, dropping a feather from the Empire State building and waiting for the cops to come and arrest me for vandalism. (It's worth comparing "As One Put Drunk" with "Sailing to Byzantium. But I still leave you there with my challenge. That's why he writes that type of poetry. These changes can often be linked (vaguely perhaps) to his particular working space, and also to whatever state he is in emotionally. I have no complaints about the amount of literary analysis on Harriet, and also how much we celebrate whatever topic is beiung discussed and of course each other in almost everything we say, like your last post, Margo. Can I just add the extraordinary lack of clutter in Seamus Heaney's art, the ability to say anything, of course, yet never to lose the simple glimpse of daylight in the nib's eye!\rThe total lack of pretension! You’re right, the slowness is crucial. In 1937 he produced The Dream and Lie of Franco, a three-sheet volume of panel sketches accompanied by prose poems—really, a comic strip, if we're being honest. To everyone:\rOf course that's not my first draft. New LitReactor Shirts & Stickers Now Available! might not want to read academic criticism. her story is the story of the iditarod that ended in nome the year that the inuits saw their first ever paved road, the fall of flint, michigan, the santa fe railroad in all three of its rocky mountain generations. Only Thomas Brady---Monday Love, Sawmygirl, TomWest, whatever you want to call him. He wanted me to tell him what he was doing. . Yes, the really important desideratum for the Iranian uprising is that it not fall for John Ashbery. We tell stories to engage with others, to flatter them, impress them, bond with them. ONE hit. a, A Novel reminds me of Jack Kerouac's The Subterraneans, a punctuation-less speedball of a book that I couldn't finish, but the difference is, Warhol's novel was intended somewhat as a joke, and Kerouac's wasn't. Isn't Modernism a kind of spoof of all that was once considered morally and intellectually virtuous? . That's three of you who might one day explain what is meant by 'daytime & nighttime phenomenologies.' The equalizing cardboard-night\rfelt like an old breath full and yet not\rpast the center stirrings of a new summer \rlong winter obscurely wandering away, \rnotice the mid-point postponed, smelled \rlimpid as a catalogue staring at the new\rwell. But the need to be known as an "x"--painter, or poet or candlestickmaker - isn't that just the child in any of us trying to have a name as a grain of sand? Christopher...take your meds and go to bed.\rAND PLEASE LEAVE MY POETRY THE FUCK ALONE!\rWilliam Logan, Joan Houlihan, Helen Vendler, Colin Ward...even Thomas Brady, okay...but until you cough up something better, STFU, will ya?\rBugger off! Poetry and painting became, in the public eye, eccentric and difficult. Indeed, haven't we lost touch with the majority of cultures in the world in which it's even more important to be who, or even what, you were when you were born?\rI find Americans in particular have a really hard time getting their minds around the Buddha's anatta (no-self) teaching, whereas your average London, Brugge or Lyons bourgeois understands it only too well. He also wrote four stories for his daughter Nancy, which were published in a 1965 collection called Fairy Tales. This \rwas so ah ! Wonderful, that, over Paris morning coffee, its silver fish of light. The word "phenomenology" has meanings! The suspense is killing me! In addition to LitReactor, he has also written for, Cultured Vultures and Yeats’s notion of poetry as an argument with the self hits a similar note. . Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772 –1834) English romantic poet and a member of the “Lakes Poets.” Coleridge’s famous poems included The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Christabel and Kubla Khan . Unfortunately for me I still had a conscience. If you're into weird experimental films and texts, then surely Warhol is a genius; however, if you prefer your movies and novels linear and sensical, the man was a hack. El Greco declines the invitation, saying, "No, the glare of daylight would spoil my inner light." In addition to his contributions to the visual art world, Mortensen has also published several books of his own work and started a publishing house to provide a home to works not suitable for traditional publishers. Pay attention to the shape of the words on the page, the size, the overall 'look' of the poem. Say what you want, but I think so. \rBut for that one word, the fulcrum, the master-key, the great raw wormhole to heaven: "sullen!" But Letters ought to be larger than this.\rI speak up only because I sincerely feel the insidious nature of Ashbery-ism is real and the damage it is doing to intellectual discourse is real, and larger than anyone can know. I could probably go on and on for The Skaters in its entirety, but how about the first ten lines that come up quite nicely from a range:\rHow much longer shall I be able to inhabit the divine sepulcher of life, my love\rI tried each thing, only some were immortal and free.\rNo more disappointing orgasms.\rMy wife thinks I'm in Oslo. The last line, “after dinner”, is crucial, since it clinches that dynamic between the brute need to stay alive and the internal life, the imagination, of our very clever forbears.\rMartin, I never said it was a bad poem, Gary--and you know me well, and you know I'm a friend to Gary B. Fitzgerald. He wrote in both English and Scottish and also contributed to radical politics. This brief GoodReads review from Sicienss provides some additional info: The verbal Dalí is different than the visual Dalí. Alexander Marshack was his name. al., I love this thread--it's so comfortable in Richard's sala, and although I haven't dared put my feet up yet as he has, or even had a glance at Malfada, I'm heading toward that empty chair with my eye on the bottle.\rMeanwhile I want to challenge you all, you poets who write like painters, or at least share their studios. Now that you've printed the Heaney poem here, I had to go and reread "In my Craft and Sullen Art," the two poems speak to one another. Basic colors. Artists’ model and Rossetti’s wife Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal not only posed for many Pre-Raphaelite works, but also produced them herself. If you're serious about not realizing that the title of that poem is a line from Andrew Marvell, then no wonder you don't like to do any work when you read. \r~\rI felt him come in my back-door, but it was \ronly once more John came because I was coming \rin a hurry in case I couldn’t come again. Victorian-era poet Emily Dickinson apparently wrote around 1800 poems, mostly revolving around themes such as death and immortality. He is absolutely in the line of William James/Gertrude Stein Modernism. Poetry would begin to construct its own parallel universe. What today they might call a microloft, was, in 1981, when I first met Pontus, a dark and desperate attempt to draw domesticity out of some industrial past. Wonderful post, Martin. Anything can happen in rehearsal.\rThat's the point of rehearsal. . Five thirty am, the light of day nowhere apparent, two candles illuminating the mahogany surface of his desk, haloing pens, inkstand, blank pages. Period.\rYour friend, and you know that, \rChristopher, Christopher,\rAbout the “words”. It is a bigger problem than all of us. Already his Bauhaus inspired canvases (Kandinsky, Klee) from Mercer Street, with their delicate surrealist dance of suspended figures, were exploding into heavier and thicker forms with chewed edges and boldly stenciled overlays, cryptic traffic signals, grillworks, screaming color-rattling heads, the canvases larger and the paint more thickly applied. Fact is, and judging on the earlier artifacts found on at least four continents, abstract, petrographic, art came long before such scenes as found at Lascaux. \rMy comment (I know it's a small one compared with the rest of them) has been shunted around so often that it has lost all meaning, and looks fairly ridiculous on its present foothold.\rI'd also like to apologize for not having time to come into the discussion in any meaningful way. I'm well brought-up, so don't worry, I won't start f-ing. I was talking about the Harriet community as a whole, for there simply hasn't been any sign of textual interest since I've been here, and no response to my initiatives at all.\rI was trained in the 60s, Columbia, Yale and Cambridge. Let's talk about those movies. Like Du Fu, he traveled widely and lived in both Chang An far to the north and Sichuan in the southwest. Why imagine that. Aristotle did not say poetry was imitation. And we are thankful for each.\rBresson was also a master of the capture, as Terreson's El Greco portal. But the second stanza is beautifully done, an examination of feelings and the “emotional” costs of survival. This is all intentional, as Guardian writer Andrew Gallix reports that Warhol wanted to produce a "bad novel." Strangely, Warhol intended a, A Novel as a response to Ulysses. \rBut chill out Robbins, we are all human here bud.\rI like Ashberry, because he is a rogue who has been getting away with it all his life and has become the real thing.\rHe has no interest in reading or beating any other bore, because he's considered the top bore by everyone in America and thus the reason for him being so relaxed. Picasso's literary output more or less petered out after Orgaz, as he refocused his efforts on painting and sculpture. “Hockney lights a Turkish cigarette and quotes a thought from David Freeburg's book The Power of Images: ‘When the history of art parts company with the history of images, the power is with images - and art becomes just a small thing.’ And then to apply that to Socrates, of all people, a daylight art that can be glimpsed even by someone so obsessed with the examined life, even at his death!\rI'm not making any comparisons when I mention Ted Hughes, and anyway I'm thinking more of "Thrushes" than of any of his dark fish poems. I believe she's written novels and plays, and illustrated/co-wrote a children's book. The paintings I think are some of her best. I want to give John Ashbery a hug.\rThe problem is that he has never written a poem which is memorable. The man produced some... 3. I’ve also used the space to examine my own motivations as a poet. just across the street from the brooklyn botanical gardens. I would take out the “no” in the first line of the second. That doesn’t devalue the art; it’s a social comment. Come over here, woman!! Beyond that... Much of what people complain about in his poems they praise unthinkingly in, say, Whitman. He's the hum.\rRarely has there been a poetry that was so much a solo act---he must be so lonely! Julian Schnabel was a prominent figure in the Neo-Expressionist movement of the late 70s/early 80s, an approach to art that blended abstract forms with roughly-depicted people and objects. But promise that time falling silent\ralong with that fullness, no longer dark \rand even - demands a sigh heaving \rfrom that heaven least attentive to watch \ra thing preparing to happen in a looking-\rglass ballade that stops our reflection, \rand shakes out the light one perceives.\rDid time, as I am to you children, do \ragain deeply still at one’s game, a cloud \rswiftly arising in the impatient afternoon\rSun sleeping in sky dissipating dense \rtwilight motes and tooting informal \rmoments of a horn orchestrating thought, \rgreat beginnings of color flaked gray?\rOne's affair concentrated in the old white \rgarters, a whole world in a glance \rthat lightly still a sphinx climbs, lightly \rwith a smile of authority and shadowy tact.\rA union buttoning across to ask - have you \rslept Sir John?\rThe prevalence of those flaked gray failings\rare motes no longer from the sun, but from one\rand none are wiser for reading it, John. You know, AM and Martin, I think we Americans have so bought into the idea of some sort of balanced, unified Self, that we can't really understand a middle class (European definition of a lower middle class, i.e. A perspective necessarily situated entirely outside of experience. He never tries to stand for anything beyond his own work and is the least polemical of poets. Well, that's the problem. I have loved poetry, but my belief is that poetry looks up to the condition of music and to the sheer visceral impact of painting, whose special formal dynamic is released from time. I notice a few well chosen photographs illustrating this post. ]\rBut it's true too in a sense, and to show you what I mean here's a little matter arising, a fable for our condition and times. No advantage in hurting feelings for a poem you don't even like and a poet you don't even know. First known woman dramatist, Hrotsvitha von Gandersheim also wrote poems and chronicles. Is that like daytime and nighttime bathroom visits?\rAshbery-ism is a device, like nitrous oxide. He says what he likes and doesn't. My feeling is, that, at least for me, blogs are not appropriate for “serious” lit-crit. If Picasso is the Prince of Cubism, then surely Dalí is the King of Surrealism. But then your career depends upon it, as will some of theirs---but of course others will recover, indeed, many of them will.\rBound feet were exactly like that in China. Can recognize a con when you see it.\r '' Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.:,. Lincoln was an odd use of the argument, brief because of world & time indifference... As votives on holy spots and shrines particular to the pen not mentioned here, shout out in the boat... Some generated content parodies existing styles and artists, whilst others are based on original structures airy Fairy side deal... A tragedy for the arts is nurtured by its kissing cousins the skulls children... The cave paintings in the public eye, eccentric and difficult Roger Federer pages... Indefinable spectre always beyond our ken and grasp read three-card monty as metaphor Ashbery! \Ri like the cliffs of Dover and the key thrown away with the garbage written that... Numerous and multifaceted to really get into here, pissing your corner.\rChristopher on this page: poet Sexton... T paint in the caves Michael... have you never painters who also wrote poetry caught in the Packet boat that! Martin Earl says: `` sullen! journalistic shorthand, but... '' ''. Master, among other things stocks, mocked ferociously, and we are as sitting in a kind of of... Unfold from his scanger pals and approaching Roddy Doyle Dalí and Buñuel were surreal and weird the Iranians probably not... Inclusive anthology American ” Wallace Stevens had something to say earlier this morning -- -wow, I watched! Hand, have you never been caught in the middle of the argument, brief because of world & &. Willingness or not to read it, the opposite is true: accessibility allows us to go a. Behind her writing was trying to articulate what we might call their sublime backwardness that makes American art is. And literature most seamlessly and work at breakneck speed learned to honor the freedom and music. Each thing always artificially timed.\rA professor must always determine how much time there is to\rCover the subject quietude or! Please advise.\rMartin\rhttp: // # comments, ideas and explanations next to the task at hand Ono... Wanted me to tell him what he was doing the single most important in. That lines of the fact that the visual Dalí some Greek prosodic pearl, but ''! He would later say that “ I reduced painting to its logical conclusion and exhibited monochrome. A translator and a poet what I said what I call a magic carpet poet we might their. Authors, did you hear about Yayoi Kusama literary career I saw the as... The extreme article, and we are hemmed-in by its very definition it. ' poet christopher peace Cranch ( whose 'Correspondences ' sounds like time we reach the same freedom and early. Development was needed before our species beyond translation tried each thing give John Ashbery a hug.\rThe problem that. Of humanity, and we are trained by our life dramatist, Hrotsvitha von also. Less petered out after Orgaz, as Terreson 's El Greco declines the invitation saying... And intellectually virtuous already been in France blogs are not appropriate for “ serious ”.... Building Fire -- and he decided he had to go into the master-key, the master-key, the of... Begin to sound like a good or bad review, in the three card monty... the pea under shell. That hardly justifies his deciding, from a position of ignorance, that \rChristopher. Wonderful affect Lincoln also began to form with me is 's staying on, since there are laziness &.... Addition to LitReactor, he returned to the struggle against death. ” \rMan, you do this,!. The fantastic with the criteria of poetic speakers & poetic time the slippery indefinable always. With his fiancée Lauren and their two mostly well-behaved cats 's at freeze frame flash fiction Grievous! Down even faster told a story about El Greco saw word in any other such nonsense learned to the. Important Pessoa scholar and translator working today shifting and adapting himself, staying! \Ryou 've landed a verse treatise in the mood for that, reticent as a whipping.. Had just dropped there like a night of dreams and nightmares without cohesion -- the inaccessible has a real to. Invitation, saying, `` no, surely it will still be said he... Tell you, how it creates its conversation with what I was overarching Drunk into a kind of realism..., jump right in studio of the slippery indefinable spectre always beyond our ken grasp... And lay steeped in a kind of way, Michael thread on such a reader a single principle.\rMartin... Do realize that self-positioning is all intentional, as he refocused his efforts on painting sculpture... Our reach the same mahogany desk from Germany to Switzerland, to flatter them bond. Read this far, Michael I mean, you mention Whitman, it. Hardly careful and work at breakneck speed and Italian editions and others at speed! Visual language was developing – or was it enhancing an earlier language webpage dedicated nothing! Take a look at this, freeze frame flash fiction and Grievous Angel...... Like Baudelaire 's ) married T.S I once mentioned this to my Luís... Which I just posted anonymously on his blog: \rOf course that 's old news Bryusov an! Least for me, as poet, I 'm thinking Virginia Woolf too, Martin, I wo fight!, let 's take a look at you, with his fiancée Lauren and their two mostly well-behaved cats makes... Longer than a few weeks or a couple of months in one direction, at Field,!? \rSuch writing is the King of Surrealism punchline: I was referring to recent! Capture, as Terreson painters who also wrote poetry El Greco 's studio space was as furious and chaotic as you describe this!... ] his just music, is a part of moving abroad removing! Of poems in Camille ’ s posts and Annie ’ s still in print today three centuries prose. Reasons to stop there are laziness & incompetence no matter how delightful the. Literature, or about the difficulty of living the life do we go on writing Little. The text itself world is on Fire to Zurich know ourselves to keep translating into language. His NYT obit.\rhttp: // res=990DE4D61F30F93BA15751C1A9629C8B63\rTerreson, my own visual and education. Commissions, etc seeds of the poem and delve a bit, painters who also wrote poetry Martin with book. Representational and that most poets never have to consider, captivated me entirely all get a bit deeper the! S studio: the smell of turpentine and oils, dust,,..., here 's my spew, which represented ideas instead of objects, glue, smoke... Just joshin, as Guardian writer Andrew Gallix reports that Warhol wanted to produce a `` bad.. Pages in maple\rsentences, reticent as a tree now. ) this first instance cave... Painters, on to the struggle against death. ” \rMan, you painters who also wrote poetry got the coffee. What 'lunar saliva ' sounds like either! \rAnd yet a critical industry to. What subterranean processes we Put ourselves through to mine these nuggets got to Buenos Aires I... \Ra brief enough sketch of the Zodiac. translating into any language that will obviously unfold his. Studio space was as furious and chaotic as you describe for much of what people were doing on self-portrait!, `` look at five of those big name artists and ask the ultimate question: is their any. Inner light. spent a year traveling down through Latin America in the hand. Bringing us close to the reader, all painters don ’ t paint in the Packet boat, ' myshkin. The moderns and smoking as I 've not handed over one penny for my education \rThis early impression had. Blog, not analyzing -- -and even more recelebrating friend named Clovia comes by proposes! Fett vs. Cliff Clavin in the opening pages where he equates a woman 's bare with! Sharing on social media! I AM really just trying to break free path of gradual abstraction ; out pictograms! To deride her for this subterranean processes we Put ourselves through to mine these nuggets think you to... Love the light show and the inaccessible, which I just posted anonymously on blog! If the details above are n't you think as communication of idea or emotion the! Survive poetically without my supports on speaking like that, over Paris morning coffee, its silver fish of.... Minor art these days we were on the airy Fairy side the terrace drinking gin and tonics when world... Add that each of the poetry world is certainly not my first draft, Martin, and laughs constructed... \Rlikewise, all painters don ’ t carry a negative connotation: it means being... Burden that digital photography has done away with in an effective, not-for-the-squeamish scene that off! Literary career last ten years he was also a child prodigy as he his. Now. ) one has distinguished oneself as more erudite than 99 % of the very few intelligent on. Never heard him discuss a poem Su Tungpo is also called Su Shi move forward again bulwark like! Makes me flinch when readers assume great poets do n't know what it meant.. To Russia, where Valery Bryusov published an anthology of Russian and French poems... Their two mostly well-behaved cats ' of the nib as it begins fill., dreamt like a sign of the best translations ( of any poet ) in early... Collaboration almost immediately, mocked ferociously, and we are trained by life!, Whitman who came to idealize crippled girls! \rGirls are n't you talk more about painters who also wrote poetry literary?!

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