Conceptual writing… yes?… no?… maybe?
Last links to a lost world of art.
Famed non-believer: ‘Jesus existed, yeah.’
There’s nothing wrong with being a crazy, alcoholic, and miserable writer-cum-artist.
Thursday Staff Meeting – Canons
The Dark Room Collective
There was a sort of reunion of members of the Dark Room Collective on Monday night, put on by the Folger Shakespeare Library but actually held at the church across the street (which has considerably more seating – and the place was still pretty full).
The Dark Room Collective (and I had not been familiar with them before attending this reading) was a sort of group house for African-American artist-activists in Cambridge that (when the house was sold off) evolved into a sort all purpose artistic clearinghouse for writers, painters, sculptors, dancers, and musicians. But always, it appears, poets, poetry, and poetry readings held a central place in its history and the role it saw for itself.
Present this particular were eight poets of, admittedly, varying quality and charisma (none were poor, but several would be considered among the country’s leading poets, so naturally stood out). The poets present were: Tisa Bryant,Thomas Sayers Ellis, Major Jackson, John Keene, Tracy K. Smith, Sharan Strange, Natasha Trethewey, and Kevin Young. Among that group, you might have picked out the names of Smith (who just won the Pulitzer Prize for her collection, Life on Mars), Trethewey (who won a Pulitzer in 2007 for Native Guard), and Young (who wrote The Gray Album, a book which is very du jour right now).
I enjoyed listening to about two thirds of the poetry read, but loved all the descriptions of the early days of the Collective and was intensely jealous of their participation in that history.
I bought one book, of course – Smith’s Life on Mars – and got it signed.
Final Day Of National Poetry Month – What Now?
It’s also the last day of Jazz Month, but as much as I love jazz, I love poetry more. Though it’s sad that it was set up to create a sort of competition.
But hopefully, some of those handful of people who read my blog (so much time spent writing for so few readers… rather like being a poet, n’est pas?) will actually read some poetry in May, as well.
And go ahead and buy that snotty, over intellectualized and under employed recent college grad in your life a copy of e e cummings (for some reason, that always seems like the traditional poetry present for that character), the moody teenage girl some Plath or Sexton (when they get to college, you can give them a copy of something by Sharon Olds, but not until you’ve accepted the likelihood of that person being sexually active). And for the more old fashioned reader who claims to only like poetry that rhymes, go beyond Frost and give them some W.D. Snodgrass or, if you’re feeling particularly subversive, some Frederick Seidel.
And check with your local indie bookstores and college type coffeehouses and find out when the next poetry reading or poet friendly open mic is taking place. And when you go to that poetry reading, but one of the poet’s books. The poet will feel good, you will feel good, and poetry as a contemporary and living art will have been supported. Seriously, it will cost around $15 and you’ll a freaking book. It won’t spoil and lasts longer in the system than $15 worth of beer. And, you know, it’s just good form. Don’t be one of those people. And for God’s sake, don’t leave the poet hanging, wondering if anyone will ever buy and read his or her poetry.
When you bring a book to read, bring a book of poetry sometimes, instead of that thumping big novel.
Memorize some pithy lines and drop into conversation, casually mentioning who wrote it. You will appear smarter (if you do it right) and maybe the people you are conversing with, in the hopes of appearing smarter themselves, will go home and commit to memory some poetry themselves in order to drop it into conversation.
Which Poet Would You Recommend?
Mallarme & Cabernet Franc
My father and I took a trip out to the Shenandoah Mountains to (somewhat belatedly) celebrate his birthday.
Besides the mountain vistas, the main attractions were a fantastic (mostly) used bookstore called Royal Oak Bookshop and the Fox Meadow Winery, or rather the fantastic views of the mountains from its patio.
While sitting on that patio deck with my father, I sipped a solid (if unspectaculer) Cabernet Franc (though, in fairness, while the Cabernet Franc varietal seems particularly well suited to the terroir of the Shenandoah Valley, I can’t think of anyone who say it rises to spectacular heights with any frequency) and read Stephane Mallarme.
It seemed a perfect moment. A full, relaxing, and uncomplicated wine to go hand in hand with a full, relaxing, and very complicated poet.
Mallarme was one of those poets I had read a little of, but not deeply, but very much wished to.
In this particular collection (Selected Poems, purchased, naturally, at the above mentioned Royal Oak Bookshop) was a poem entitled L’après-midi d’un faune.
A month or two earlier, I attended a small concert where they played a Debussy piece entitled Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune. The musicians described it as having been written for a dramatic presentation of a poem by a then famous poet. The poem and poet, I was assured, were little read and with good reason. It was typically bad and boring nineteenth century poem and we, the audience, need not worry ourselves, for the only thing left of value from that artistic moment was the music.
What absolute poppycock!
Now that I know it is by Mallarme, I rightly incensed. Mallarme and his poems are still rightly read and rightly respected and that poem is quite good.
In continued rambling, the Royal Oak is a fantastic bookstore. The owner takes care to keep a broad and good selection of books. Yes, he stocks some trash – including many of those old sci fi pulps I love so much – but also clearly works to keep good and interesting books in stock. You will find some treasures, if you care to look (and you won’t have to look that hard to find them, either).
Fox Meadow Winery is a typical Virginia winery. The vines are pretty young and the wines not very complex.
The tasting covered the following:
2010 FMV Le Renard Gris – This is the bottle I bought to bring back. Not my favorite, but my partner prefers sweeter wines and I really can’t stand them. This one seemed like a good value and sweet enough for her palate and still dry enough for mine – as you might expect from a blend of (among others) pinot grigio and chardonnay.
2010 FMW Barrel Fermented Chardonnay – I’ve got to say, this was not a very chardonnay-ish chardonnay. In fact, I couldn’t get any of the classic chardonnay mineral-ish flavor until the finish. Nothing in the middle at all. Interesting for all the wrong reasons.
2011 Riesling – If you love sweet rieslings, you’ll love this. I don’t love sweet rieslings, but my partner would have loved it. However, as noted, I opted for something she and I could (I hope) enjoy together.
2009 FMW Syrah – They offered a lot of descriptives for this one, but I swear, most of the time, I could barely taste a thing. There was no “there” there.
2009 FMW Cabernet Franc – This is what I enjoyed on the patio. A relaxing and enjoyable wine. I would have gotten it except it simply wasn’t worth $27 a bottle. But, I was very much tempted. It is a great full bodied, dry red that also manages works well in summer.
2009 Le Renard Rouge – My absolute favorite, but I just wasn’t prepared to spend $32 on it, especially since my better half would not have appreciated it. But it really was the best wine they had and I can recommend it.
E-Book Typography
James Felici’s piece, The State of E-Book Typography, brings into sharp relief some of the obstacles standing between e-books fully participating in literature at its highest and best level.
Essentially, reading on a screen – especially a computer (include tablet) screen, but also an e-reader – is always (using current technology) going to be less readable than even the cheapest printed dime store pulp.
Felici makes the distinction between readability and legibility. Legibility being the reason that most folks (including myself when I’m reading my Nook at Eastern Market or on the subway or on the National Mall) use the sort of font size on their e-readers that, in a traditionally printed book, would be associated with large print editions for the vision impaired. Just the other day, I had to increasee the font size I was using to read Melmoth the Wanderer, an earlier nineteenth gothic novel, on my Nook while riding the Metro here in DC.
But that doesn’t help, he says, the readability, which is limited by the pixelated technology used to create the words on the screen.
And though there some fonts that are better than others (Verdana, Tahoma, Georgia, Cambria) for use when reading on computers or screens, the limitations remain.
As a result we still read 25% more slowly on e-readers than on traditional books.
I also think of the writers, designers, and typographers who choose the font used in their books so carefully.
Especially poets, who are already crippled in their ability to transmit the true quality of their work in an e-reader because of how the devices lay out the lines. In a literary art form that is so much connected to its appearance on the page, the inability to even truly control the font size seems like salt in the wound, insult to injury, or whatever metaphor you prefer.
I’ll let Felici finish up this thought:
The problem today is that after 500 years of evolution, the “printed” word has taken a step backward in quality. According to “The New York Times,” electronic publishers are commissioning shorter books because their readers find it too tiring to take on longer works. Ever since I started writing for online magazines I’ve been obliged to write shorter pieces than in the past because editors tell me that online readers simply won’t finish longer articles. With today’s technologies, reading is simply more of a chore than it’s been in the past. Access to reading material is amazingly easy — a revolution, in fact — but reading is more than just taking in information, and the aesthetics of text presentation involves more than just making type pretty. It means making type functional as well.
Poetry In Your Pocket Day
I missed ‘Poetry in your Pocket’ Day – when you’re supposed to keep some poetry with you, to read or share with others as the situation warrants. And for most of that day, I didn’t actually have any poetry in my pocket (unless you count the poem I was working on in the little notebook in my jacket poet, which I don’t, because I was hardly ready to share it at that point), though the day before, I had been carrying some Mallarme around with me.
Weekend Reading – Imagist Journals
2012 Shakespeare’s Birthday Bash At The Folger Shakespeare Library
Yesterday was the Folger Shakespeare Library‘s celebration of Shakespeare’s birthday, an event I had attended for five years in a row now. It’s kind of my thing.
Unfortunately, it was pouring down rain this year, so all the outdoor events were moved inside.
This year, I invited our neighbor’s daughter (she is, as she explained, “11 and a half years old”) to come with me. Normally, this is kind of a solitary event for – I browse the exhibit, listen to a lecture, listen to a lot of music, and check out the books for sale. But with a child, it’s a little different, of course. More drawing portraits of Shakespeare, more taking lessons in sixteenth and seventeenth century courtly dancing, etc.
And, she got up in front of an audience and read a line of Shakespeare from a speech by Benedict from Much Ado About Nothing. That was pretty cool, I have to say. She wanted me to stand next to her and help out, but then while in line, she started talking to another girl, maybe a year or two older and they seemed to make fast friends, as kids are wont to do, so I quietly slipped away.
While I missed my usual stuff (not much sitting and quietly reading and writing while listening to a string quartet), it was great to see a child get their first real introduction to Shakespeare and this language.
Oh, and unlike last year, their scholarly periodicals were set out in the magazine room for me to browse through. It really bugged me last year that they put those away.
the coffee philosopher 