ROOOM 6A
Note on ROOM 6 I wanted something quite different from the text presented - it actually looks quite good  - but is nothing like he image-text I was trying to get - I don't know enough yet about how to get images or texts onto the Blog so that they "follow" what I want - so I will attempt to put an image of what I was doing - I think I have the ability to do these things but not the knowledge or experience - perhaps if I knew HTML (or other languages/methods just as an artist previous to computers needed - and they still do - to know of their materials and media - nowadays the writer or 'textualiser' needs or perhaps doesn't need but it is desirable in many cases to know something of the medium he/she works with - so we we see VISPO and the work say of Alan Sondheim who uses computer and programming jargon in his huge Meditation on the Internet project) or more about imaging and files I would be able to control the output ... (just as I learnt perspective and how to mix colours and much else from my father - who was an artist/architect/engineer - when I was about 8 tor 9 -but haven't 'worked' in that 'area' since - much - so one feels the need to learn a huge amount more -but life is perhaps too short).
[I emphasise again that I feel that the poetry-prose and poetry visual art divisions etc are for me limiting - I dont accept them except in that they are practical realities - limiting in many cases. I don't like to think of myself as writing poems as such but creating texts or processes. I am not interested though in the effect of jazz on poetry per se - if I compare poetry to music I am talking more about a conceptuating - constructive process...music as such -most popular music has no connection to the kind of work I want to do or imagine is "art"...Or I am maybe wrong on that. But I can't connect with Creeley's or (some of the Language poets such as Clark Coolidge - although I love his poetry and work -) enthusiasm for jazz - expect perhaps the improvisatory nature of some jazz.]
 
But it still shows something of what I was attempting and in fact I "discovered" that I could get colour via Word onto the Blog - now the Blog only allows centering - I cant push text around in the edit mode - at least - I can't do it at my present state of knowledge - that is in fact - in a way - what I am doing - it is learning process (that is this 'project' is not something delineated into separable poems or units it is a continuous process and this Room 6A is part of it) - and nothing is certain - though I wanted to eliminate chance as much or more than anything else I have done previously the irony is that chance has played part in EYELIGHT which attempts to be "about" something and to be a "serious" "project" (and not chance affected, or not as far as I could control) - even if I was off line and preparing a book as such I would be limited by my own skill lack - although I feel I could learn those skills - I seriously thought of doing a course in art and computer art etc etc but this is probably impractical so the EYELIGHT presented so far will have to be limited by the medium I am using - although I am sure ther are relatively simple things I can learn as I go. 
One of the reasons I have set myself this "task" is to set limits - quite or almost arbitrarily - or to put a frame work to my 'work' - now this is almost in complete contrast to what I had done preciously when in fact much of my poetry was written for almost immediate reading - by reading I was publishing - and indeed as I could see that time no way to be published - I didn't in say 1989 to even 1992 (when I was reading either at the Albion or the Sakespear pubs every Monday and then at the Masonic once month on a Wednesday night)  think I would be published by anyone - I also got big 'lift' out of reading to a live public which is much more difficult now for me to attain via print or on the internet or in non spoken medium) - 
And while I started out with poems that were more or less "conventional" this gradually modified as my reading extended and so on. Now I also began to write entire poems with condsiderable rapidity - in many cases not revising  - in fact most of the poems that my friends and others seem to like were not revised - eg The Red - it actually came to me first as kind of image of squares or rectangles of concrete - grey or white and red - and kind of 'beating' rhythm and words came into my mind as I was walking near the Sociology/Anthropology Dept to the English Dept of the Auckland University about 1992 when I was studying Gertrude Stein as a  a part of paper called "American Poetry" (Stein is a very important poet for me). There are rectangles of concrete there and I was on the stairs linking the two departments. I stopped walking - scrawled a few lines and the rest I did in about 20 minutes at home that night and I read it out a few weeks later when I had a guest spot at The Shakespear - for my reading and - I received a standing ovation (for it and my other poems I hope) - now while I worked carefully when I typed it up* - the revision was mainly done I think by my mind's inherent sense of rhythm etc - as it happens it is almost entirely in iambics - but not pentameter. This was not designed. Any "design" was very rapid - I don't say this to boast but to show a contrasting compositional method - that I kind of "perfected" - I found that with some good exceptions - tinkering and rewriting was not my thing - but after a time I had so many poems and I found writing so easy I felt that I needed to "challenge myself" with a project -with something more formally preconceived - & with restraints etc - I wouldn't go so far as Robert Frost and say that poetry without such restraints or formal metrical arragements is "like playing tennis without the nets" but it is an interesting concept.
This starts leading into the question of what poetry (or indeed what any creative art) is - ontological or epistemlogical questions perhaps - or aesthetical - which lead even (ultimately down certain paths) to politics (at least to philosophy and possibly to ethics).    
*The Auckland poet and musician Bryony Jagger has set The Red to music for full orchestra but a lines that I removed - that would appeal to a musician as it is a kind of intermezzo - I deleted to get a "harder edge" on the work - Bryony wanted that part in as it was in when I read the poem the first time - we disagreed (amiably) on the need for its inclusion - so that is an example of 'pruning' I DID do.
The line  was - " A fascadassalation of a sheen of green".  Too much for me!
I heard the music played by the Leys Institute Orchestra there (at the Leys Institute Library in Ponsonby) in December 1995. It is great music I feel.
Here is the poem The Red -
              The Red
 
The blocks  of red  on red on red   by  black   around
by black by  black  by  line by line  by  round.   The 
red  in  red  of red in red  where  black  by back the 
white   around.    Around    the   bound   about   the 
white   the   red  more  red   comes  up  the  red. It 
rears its head. The  eye  the  see  the  sight  to see.
The eye the see the light the sight.
 
                    And light.
 
The light not  light  not  bright  not  dim   not  sun.
The  sun  not  round  not  up  not  down.   The   blue
not   there  not  green  not  grey.  The  grey  ungrey
not grey  not black .  The  up  not   down   the  down 
not up.
 
And  the  black not  black  not black  on  night.  The 
light alight but light not light.
 
             The clock is dead.
 
The  clock  awake  alive  like  head.   The  head like
 blood like hot is red.
 
The squares  the   slabs  the   reds   the  blocks are
chops  of  chunks:   the  chunks the chunks  the  bits.
The   monks.  And  the  red  the  red  and  round  the 
black.  (There is no black).
 
To  you  my  red   my   square   my  thing:  I  fall
and  blubber  like   a   sun-struck   king.
 
The  red  on  red  of  red  the  blocks.   The orange 
the  green  the  blue.  The  see  the   sight     the 
steel the grey. The  shape the  tall   the  dark  the 
great. The  high the high.  The  finger like a finger
on the sky.
 
                  The eye the seen.
 
                   The green.
 
O  my  blocks  my  reds  my  reds  my blocks:  orange
is not is gnomes is gone.
 
And   the    red   in    red.   (There   is   no  red)
The  square  that's  not  that's  never that's  there.
If  red  be  red  not  is not  green:
Then  red  on  red  of  red is  you  my  thing.   And 
if that  is  you  by  blocks  by black are red around.
And black is black as black is black.
 
              And  red is red is red.
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5 comments:
yeah! good to see more posts, richard.
Hi Richard - great to hear from you! thanks have a look at Reading the Maps and the link to Titus books.
I think that the concert where my poem 'The Red' was set to music was played in 2005 at the Leys Institute. A typo there, as not 1995, it was way after that...I read the poem again with Bill Direen's "gig" or event recently.
That comment was now, October 2016.
Good 2
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