Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Faces: a poem for my wife on this our twenty-fifth


Maria's smile is

like pearls dangled from a darning needle,

like the harlequin of smiles, sweetly
like a pearly tulip spun on its stem;

or a trim face over a languid doll neck,
or all of a lilac in a wide panting field;

a smile from all of these:—pearl, needle
and stars spun on bright. A smile,

near-astral, on which to gorge awhile,
with the lips' gauche tilt, a sweeping front;

a champagne of a smile, in pixy groves,
each cheek a rose on a mud-sated vine.

Like all the soft-stroked, bird or leaf,
a smile set to a dusky, scented moon.

In ruby trim, sprightly and warm a smile
to vanish into the heart-gladdening eye—

the eye mostly!—pettish days try sparking
and bob-tailed nieces wear like a charm.

Out of all these: candy floss or puppet soft
rising light on the wings of a damselfly.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Faces: Gilles Deleuze



A schizophrenic out for a walk is a better model than a neurotic lying on the analyst's couch (Deleuze & Guattari)
Schizophrenia is disaster in life and success in poetry (Harold Bloom)
I can say without exaggeration that were it not for Gilles Deleuze I wouldn't be writing this now. Not that he's meant a life or death difference to me personally: or perhaps it's the case that (to realign indebtedness more clearly to the man & some uniquely collaborative origins) the writing vocation would've been lost entirely on me. The crease in the picture is a little telling: perhaps even emblematic. It's probably why I've kept it.

Actually, 'liberatory' is the word I ought to use to show the pure (& thrilling) aleatoriness of my first dove flight after reading Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Nothing seemed beyond reproach afterwards and everything that was to me erstwhile literarily dull, by which I mean weighted down with spotty academicisms, was subject to exciting new laws of intensities, new refractions & the vital regroupings that go with them. Poetries and genres seemed to dissolve into slipstreams. The language of poetry came— after the fall (so to speak)— soaring to the lyrically accessible spheres where composition developed by "lawns of excluded middles" (Waldrop) & singularities, averse to 'molar' crowds, that could be skimmed off the poet's perceptual field almost with Alice-in-Wonderland ease. In the words of Deleuze commentator Constantin V. Boundas (in "Gilles deleuze and the Problem of Freedom"), it's "the excess of the virtual over the actual" that releases free creativity. It's what I needed.

Yes, I said 'lyrical'! It's why my favourite modern work (or the one to which I believe a true lyricism is beholden the most these days) is John Berryman's The Dream Songs, and my favourite sonneteer, Ted Berrigan. And because they happen to be deleuzian spirits, they're also both American and not Canadian, coincidentally, and not Canadian because my country's still a place where, again, "skirting the surface" (The Logic of Sense) is seen as unpatriotic. Moralizing tendencies in Art abound everywhere here. After Deleuze, the poem didn't become the fashionable (Language) slyboots but rather an egregiously manifold 'body without organs' (bwo), a living index to any one of life's most intense schizzes: a living palette, installation visible only to the artist, a dream poetry worth dying for. None of which is to say, at the same time, that poetry turns into the unnatural and artificial medium for grotesqueries deleuzians worldwide had originally hoped for.

A world & a heart can, after all, be willed into being as easily as pastiche & readymades: being without organs invites deep tampering. Berryman, again, is not to lyricism what Duchamp is to the avant-garde: for one thing Deleuze & Berryman were jumpers whereas the middle class eagerly ate up Duchamp's artistic creations. I can envisage in them both a suicide pact and make that the lyrical heart. Logically and materially the work's (or the bwo's) still a creature of impetus coralled easily into a 'holey' space of competing forms & materials. It's the handling that matters. In short, Deleuze defines that uniquely defining arrest quality of a work, a quality which only the transplanted heart can give, as the immanent lyric (or avant-garde or Sadean or Mallarméan) in us all. Again and again, Canada's still a landscape for emotional & aesthetic cripples because it's forgotten how to walk like a true poetry body: beset with the tendency to think that Art's never immanent but interchangeable & so can be easily replaced by its francophone neighbour.

The crease in the Deleuze pic is emblematic, after all: & I've saved it since a crease pleases more than a skull fracture, and the figure in it looks like a framed portrait. One for Francis Bacon. A somehow even soft and reassuring granfatherly rest competes with a death mask image, the impish with the ghoulish, as if the man were saying anything, like Art, can be as freely transgressible as this receptacle for spontaneity named a bwo, & all that's needed is a constant infusion of fresh heart before the hardening sets in: something to lure aging spirits into creativity, even long after their prime. Cracked spirits like me.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Helen Vendler on the "writing self": quote of the day

"The writing self does not have to be virtuous in the ordinary sense of the word; but it does have to be extraordinarily virtuous in its aesthetic moves. It must refuse—against the claims of fatigue, charm, popularity, money, and so on—the idée reçue, the imprecise word, the tired rhythm, the replication of past effects, the uninvestigated stanza. It is this heroic virtue in the realm of aesthetic endeavor that courses in great authors exist to teach (as courses in "texts" do not)." (Helen Vendler from Soul Says: On Recent Poetry)

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Escher, and another poem

'Relativity'
"Escher, and some lessons"

                                             II
If you see, why axes teem with asphodels  & the one sack-slung
  (real to itself) who likes traversing keystone doors
      to go where no one knows,
        can plant anything,

presumably on the rise! nicely real (& all that are needed are-
  promenade lamps), you'll make it up, rail by rail
    For all its seeming felt and lined
      nothing's abstract

here! as of now but slack with a dangerous sun, niched, too!-
  very interchangeable commerce of urns, satchels
    Shit or get off the pot! or jump-
      or step cloud-light

as a lie from one landing  or small-squared room to the next
  across Space This seeing down's a face (of mine)
    and then There! now made privy
      to the truth of up

-what else!- the back of her head & all there is of Love. Euphoric
    or just an idea But a parenthesis more, please:
      this controvertible (Love, say!)
        is all there is

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Escher, and a poem

'Relativity'

"on viewing Escher, closely"

                                        I
who knows what else!  an angle can arc to a point of resting
-'long the sigmoid post- (I'm unsure how to think
    through it)  Tell stairs from the seas?
     There! god cares less

and as if known and felt  the fall enshrined   in me (dizzy
  say by getting up too fast!), hearts that tilt
   from out a preDali world go hard
        for the Tree, too 

Closely un-said til it's viewable or neatly untied  for me &
  the way a repast always  looks, irreversible:
    for Time's not round but in a most
      rampant whorl of all,
          
closed there where you clomb apace Can't tell tiers anymore?
  Make way, lead or just fall in edging it! ( a mov-
    ing V in the boss light of a trick)
      Eye rhymes with sky

and so forces from out of you always the inward you must
   flag a step at a time

Friday, June 24, 2011

Arts funding in Canada: what's the dealio?



Lately I've given some thought to the arts funding debate, scanning both Web & newspapers for details & any recent developments worth noting. Blogger & literary editor Curtis Faville has summed up a position (though from an American perspective) that, except for a few minor points, almost exactly mirrors my own. In fact, it was his own reflection on government support for artistic activity in the States that prompted me to look more closely into my own views on this important issue. But in doing so I've had to make important exceptions & qualifications.

Citing the 1989 case of Andres Serrano's "Piss Christ" photographic image (of the crucifix placed in the author's own urine) as a case of egregiously offensive work that should never have gotten any National Endowment for the Arts funding, Faville states flatly that "Government support of the arts is by its nature backward and oppressive. It should never be permitted. Not one tenth of one percent of the public's treasure should be given to it." I agree with the spirit of his comment, but where I do differ from Faville is in the percentage figure (stated for rhetorical effect, presumably): I'd be content rather to reduce the real total of public monies given to arts funding to about a significant one-third. What third am I referring to? And why do they alone, in Canada, form the exception to my anti-arts funding rule?

Supporters of subsidized arts & culture normally usually give two-pronged attack against their opponents, making the historical and economic case for arts funding. Firstly, the iconic The Massey Commission document of 1951 established the creation of Federal agencies (the biggest being the arm's-length Canada Council for the Arts) whose primary mandate is to give financial help to writers, musicians, dancers, painters, architects, actors and the Aboriginal arts. Section xv, in particular, is oftentimes cited as justification for the need to support creative individuals who would languish without direct government assistance. The role they play in maintaining a healthy democracy through independent thought & artistic forms of expression is too important to ignore :
No novelist, poet, short story writer, historian, biographer, or other writer of non-technical books can make even a modestly comfortable living by selling his [or her] work in Canada. No composer of music can live at all on what Canada pays him[/her] for his[/her] compositions. Apart from radio drama, no playwright, and only a few actors and producers, can live by working in the theatre in Canada. Few painters and sculptors, outside the fields of commercial art and teaching, can live by sale of their work in Canada.
Secondly, if Enigma Research Corp. specializing in economic impact studies is to be believed, there are the obvious financial benefits to had from government subsidies (coming mostly from the $20 million Celebrate Ontario fund) awarded to special events such as Pride, Luminato and the Toronto International Film Festival, direct boons to the economy measured mostly in terms of tax revenue and employment. Pride alone is said to have generated $29.7 million to Toronto's GDP in 2009. Researchers at Deloitte & Touche have also made recent comments about the benefits of the CBC to the Canadian economy, benefits ranging in the billions of dollars.


Other events have done as well, according to Enigma: the Toronto Film Festival, for example, is expected to generate $200 million by 2012. Caribana, and Shaw and Stratford theatre events have also given back to the public impressive spin offs to the tune of tens of millions of dollars. Foundation Assisting Canadian Talent on Recordings (FACTOR) is said to have helped artists win as many as 69 Juno nominations. Other success stories could presumably be told, though in more modest terms, for the hundreds of other smaller arts & culture venues. It's estimated that about10,000 funding requests go to Canadian Heritage annually.

Now, of course, support for special events comes from private and public purses but its the taxpayer-funded portions and the government agencies responsible for them that get the most press. And with good reason. There is such a thing as arts for profit only: arts & culture events that are run on a purely for-profit basis, relying exclusively on public support.The Rozsa Arts Management Awards in Alberta, for example, gives generous cash prizes to the most profitable arts ventures & arts management entrepreneurs. I think of "The Aeolian Performing Arts Centre" in London, Ontario, created by cultural entrepreneur Clark Bryan, that's also run for profit, a place of music, dance & performance poetry undistracted by the politics of funding.

In determining who gets funding I'll apply a steadfast principle of proximity: the closer the event, art and exhibition to the people, the more culturally significant. If you're going to fund the arts, democratize the process at least. My idea of a significant third comprises of performances by professional artists, cultural festivals, art galleries & museums and live performing arts. Among the culture and heritage projects & events worthy of public support are, to take a few recent examples, the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts in Toronto, (the new home for the National Ballet of Canada), & the Francophone Games in Sudbury, The Near North Mobile Media Lab in North Bay and theYarmouth Seafest.

I do applaud, however, the government's recent decision to cut cultural programs in areas where this desirable proximity is lacking. The Audio-Visual Preservation Trust of Canada, the Canadian Independent Film and Video Fund &National Training Program in the Film and Video Sector are some of the programs recently cut, government subsidies aimed at promoting activities with little or no direct public participation or general interest. They're seen as frivolous or as supporting small niche groups of musicians, experimentalist poets and filmmakers, & no one is sorry to see them go. How can a $4.7 million artists' travel support fund have ever been justified in the first place? Or postdoctoral fellows exempted from taxation? Or Canada Heritage funds be given to a Canadian punk band CD with an image of a risen Jesus figure made of excrement?

It costs about $1-billion annually to fund the CBC but it's an expenditure justified in terms of the quality of programming and news reporting it provides (though lately some have decried its lack of commitment to the arts in general). Recently Sun News Network has pilloried Order of Canada laureate and interpretive dancer Margie Gillis & her dance company for having received $1.2 million dollars over the past 13 years directly from Canada Council: but, again, it's grossly unfair criticism given the appeal of her performances to many over the years. I don't, however, have much pity for the plight of small publications, mostly literary mags like Arc Poetry Magazine and elitist academic periodicals with circulations under 5, 000. If people aren't reading them, government ought to stop the funding.

Not entirely comfortable with the notion of subsidized culture I do see the need for governmental assistance where popular support for certain arts & culture programs is particularly strong & ongoing. There are just some things too nationally defining (like ballet, theatre and music) to leave to market forces. I'd prefer myself to see all artistic enterprises to be of the run-for-profit variety (such as the "Aeolian" in London): the belief that the arts ought to rely solely on the largesse of an enlightened public has always seemed indubitably true. Perhaps the messiness of the politics of arts funding has lately compromised some of that certainty for me.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Post-Puddicombe

I think some post-Puddicombe reflections are in order now that a particularly gifted set of poets, surrounded by escarpment, orchards and a rebuilt 1915 CN passenger car, have participated in the first ever poetry reading at this stately farm and winery in Winona, Ontario. I offered my Puddicombe poetry event as a tribute to a uniquely Canadian rural poetics from which (as I believe) all Canadian poetry comes.

Reading my tribute to "Eaarth"
Poets nicely transferred their own contemporary sensibilities & verse rhythms to my ad Naturam canadensis call, as I knew they would. In fact, it's what I was eagerly waiting for. The rural itself was never interpreted in just some traditional Wordsworthian sense as ode to fields, rivers & contented rustics, a view that's both silly and caricatural. Our very earliest pioneer writers, like Susanna Moodie, instinctively knew that. Everyone gave a poetry that was attuned to a real person and a uniquely celebratory vision of life in Canada. How wonderfully diverse Nature turned out to be in their verses!

Poetry of an anguished human species shared spaces gracefully with animal friendship & grief, Sufi and "interstellar" prayers. A season was associated with cosmic rather than calendar time, & anything from my own "Eaarth" piece, which tries to delight the environmentalist heart, to hymns to neighbourhoods or Egyptian crypts, which bemoan the dark transitoriness of life itself (and even frustrated friendships in a Calgary winter!) created both physical grounds and the spirit of poetry fellowship. Poets & poetries homaged not just a suggested theme but a vital nexus that tied tradition to a postmodernist present.

Andreas Gripp
Ever since I announced that a distinctively rural poetics was to be the Puddicombe theme, I knew the attitude towards it would most likely be creative instead of restrictive. And as creators we've already become used to that: we adopt an idea and it begins immediately to morph into marvelous windings & variations. And it certainly did. Our experience of the Word does affect, and indeed creates the very conditions of, the World, and poets tend to see their work as a journal of hopes, frustrations & imaginative rebirths bound by the strictures of their craft. Haiku, free verse, rhymes & at times the most exquisitely cadenced sequence of imagery became the language of those marvelous variations on a prescribed theme.

Jeff Seffinga
Again, writing on a single theme was taken as a call to respectfully differ, and they did. Poets didn't intentionally favour one type of poem over any other. It was a case of playful teasing perhaps and an opportunity for the master-poets there (distinguished founders of People's Poetry movements and literary journals, Guernica publishers & activists) to show how the sublime appears as much in a dying cat as austere woodlands. I think I'd have had a similar effect if I'd given poets an absolutely free rein but it'd be foolish to have expected nearly the same playfulness & adaptations of subject matter to form. It was wonderful to see this cutting of the reins.

James Deahl
 To be part of an assembly of poetic voices, each uniquely expressive as the poem itself, & still preserve a sense of tradition didn't seem too unrealistic a goal, after all. Insights into human time, love, aging parents & various tributes to literary influences (sometimes en bilingue) couldn't have been more beautifully conceived & delivered, as if they were submissions for a future anthology of verse. None of the offerings sounded unfamiliar to us and yet not a single line of verse could have been exactly duplicated: authors and work were so marvelously integrated.

Puddicombe was a celebration of language, history and a distinctively landscape poetics that seemed to bridge physical distances (some poets having had to travel hundreds of miles to get there) & the alienation they can cause, an acknowledgement, if ever there was one, of nearness rather than otherness. Yes, nearness & not the more fashionable (mostly academic) ideals of a work's ambiguity & polysemy. And so perhaps the reading may be a protest against the postmodernist monopoly in the areas of writing & criticism. Or a return to a more interestingly integrative Modernist era, such as we find in the writings of P.K. Page, Layton, Purdy, et al., sadly superseded by the new (Tish-inspired) experimental poetries.

Karen Shenfeld
Ah, but if we keep following this, we'll lose sight of what the Puddicombe reading was for. It wasn't a manifesto but poetry community building inspired by place & tradition: perhaps the place of tradition itself. But whatever inspires must arrive through its own uniquely diverse channels: or else the thing's a sham.Thirteen poets understood this very well, knowing everything already about both the physicality & symbolism of the event—even if I'd said nothing at all—, eager, above all, to free the spirit from whatever threatens to take the poet from his/her rightful place among lovers, Manitoulin life and the stars. Actually, I'm rather glad they hadn't taken up the idea of a rural poetics too seriously: if it'd meant only the content of a prescribed speech it would have become a cold abstraction, and not the richness of a living contemporary experience it did actually turn into.