So, I finished The Geographical History of America this time last week, and have been thinking bout Stein in a multitude of ways. I'm starting to realize why she is so difficult to analyze critically, Her work of reshaping convention associated with writing, her use of syntax, language and making sense out of nonsense, or possible new sense out of sense out of nonsense, is on of the least practical methods of proving a point that I have encountered in my adult life. I say my adult life because of course, the twelve year old version of myself would have absorbed the book for all of it's repetative looping of ideas and staggering of punctuation and thought "I get it! She's saying a thing is a thing and it's not a thing and all things and nothing because she said so!" Obviously twelve year old me was less surly when it comes to explicit literary form.
I do not enjoy Gertrude Stein's style. The reason I do not enjoy it is almost exactly for the same reason I do not enjoy a Jackson Pollock painting; It's predictable, overrated, does not resonate, is thought to be "transmutable" by new generations, and is really the hyper-developed work of an egotist. Anything that is prescribed as genius to me always needs some strong reconsideration.
That being said, I do appreciate Gertrude Stein for her ideas, this extreme form of exploration to stay in the present and not become part of the creative writing paramount, where she can stand alone as a form of discourse that may be encountered poetically, philosophically, or humorously. Very Hipster. But the the reality of it is, or perhaps I should say my reality of it is, is that I can think about a children's show like "Adventure Time" in the same way, and gain about the same amount of clarity or connection to purpose derived through content and probably feel the same amount of scathing. Lemongrabs.
I enjoy the rhythm of her work, the musical quality is so strong that you could probably make pop songs out of it. She has a spice to her writing that makes language disappear and reappear not unlike a magicians gorgeous assistant.
While my (limited) interaction with Stein was useful, I do not believe it really hit as hard as I would have hoped, but then again, maybe that is the point, her pages poured through my head like milk in an hourglass. Everything was interpretable which wastes energy and feels like the the interpretability is even interpretable which just translates into a migraine headache.
Monday, December 2, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Douglas Kearney and Tisa Bryant
As a follow up to the fantastic Bathhouse Readings and seminar on Textual Orality, I would like to chime in with a few of my observations, ideas, and responses.
Douglas Kearney was fantastically energetic and his performance style really woke me up to the possibilities of performance as a method of demonstrating text. I think the thing that really struck me during his performance was that he admitted to not being sure how to read his poems, or that his poems could be scored in many different ways allowing them to work as their own individual tracks. In this way, each poem becomes it's own entity depending on the performance. I've always been keen on the ability to transform text or work through it in many different forms, that way it can turn into something new and engaging. I enjoyed Douglas' keen ability to know what the audience wants. Coming from his strong performance background, it was no surprise that he was so powerful. the performance verged on being too loud for comfort at times, but that was intentional and reasonable as a method for staggering the audience so that they may listen.
The performance of pieces from The Black Automaton really gave the words life. Truly, this work is meant to be heard and not just read. There are even parts to the book that cannot be read in a conventional sense, but exist on the page as their own entity or art form, they can be seen and experienced, but trying to push them into so small a box to simply be read is unfair.
Tisa was also lovely to hear from, her work of prose did not play as harshly as Douglas' poetry, but it was a nice change of pace and a very smart move on her part to go first for the readings. Her piece was so descriptive, which we addressed in class. On Wednesday, she showed a few examples of the illustrations that were described at the beginning of each chapter (or section). She was so intelligent in her explanation of hoe she engages with the themes and sensibilities of film that are integrated into her stylistic format.
I thoroughly enjoyed both of their performances on wednesday, Tisa's Neo-Benshi was so smooth and interesting, a fantastic format for hybrid art performance. Strong racial and feminist ideas were able to be woven with words into the cinema reel of the footage she showed. Kearney's critical karaoke was also very interesting, but like his readings, was uncomfortable and difficult to work through. There was a sort of racial tension that Douglas addressed through performance, which was subdued by Tisa's performance. Her acting as the calm, while Douglas acted as the storm. altogether a fantastic duo, and a wonderful experience.
Douglas Kearney was fantastically energetic and his performance style really woke me up to the possibilities of performance as a method of demonstrating text. I think the thing that really struck me during his performance was that he admitted to not being sure how to read his poems, or that his poems could be scored in many different ways allowing them to work as their own individual tracks. In this way, each poem becomes it's own entity depending on the performance. I've always been keen on the ability to transform text or work through it in many different forms, that way it can turn into something new and engaging. I enjoyed Douglas' keen ability to know what the audience wants. Coming from his strong performance background, it was no surprise that he was so powerful. the performance verged on being too loud for comfort at times, but that was intentional and reasonable as a method for staggering the audience so that they may listen.
The performance of pieces from The Black Automaton really gave the words life. Truly, this work is meant to be heard and not just read. There are even parts to the book that cannot be read in a conventional sense, but exist on the page as their own entity or art form, they can be seen and experienced, but trying to push them into so small a box to simply be read is unfair.
Tisa was also lovely to hear from, her work of prose did not play as harshly as Douglas' poetry, but it was a nice change of pace and a very smart move on her part to go first for the readings. Her piece was so descriptive, which we addressed in class. On Wednesday, she showed a few examples of the illustrations that were described at the beginning of each chapter (or section). She was so intelligent in her explanation of hoe she engages with the themes and sensibilities of film that are integrated into her stylistic format.
I thoroughly enjoyed both of their performances on wednesday, Tisa's Neo-Benshi was so smooth and interesting, a fantastic format for hybrid art performance. Strong racial and feminist ideas were able to be woven with words into the cinema reel of the footage she showed. Kearney's critical karaoke was also very interesting, but like his readings, was uncomfortable and difficult to work through. There was a sort of racial tension that Douglas addressed through performance, which was subdued by Tisa's performance. Her acting as the calm, while Douglas acted as the storm. altogether a fantastic duo, and a wonderful experience.
Monday, September 16, 2013
As an introduction to the class, I'd just like to say a few things about myself before getting into the readings, writings, and other jazz for the class.
My name is Nick Garzon, I've been at Eastern for five years, and with success, this should be my last year. I am a Studio Arts Major, Getting a Bachelors of Science inPrintmaking, with a Creative Writing minor. I love Art and Mixed Media, and believe that lines between the literary world and the art world should be blurred as much as possible. I am in another Creative Writing course this semester, Contemporary Forms with Christine Hume, and she asked us what contemporary form we found inspirational to our work, I think mine would be the new faces of fear in the genre of horror and science fiction. I am not much of a science fiction writer, but I draw most of my inspiration for my own work from elements and fragments of horror movies and scientific fiction, the stranger the better!
I consider myself a storyteller more than a writer, I love most forms of expressing narrative or capturing moments and weaving them into a plot. I am a graphic novel and comic book junkie, and also spend a great deal of time listening to and organizing my ever growing collection of concept albums, books on CD, improvisational poetry, and other exercises in the mode of a great story. My dream job would be working as a writer and illustrator for my own graphic novels, having them published, and being able to put them on my dusty old book shelf at home. I don't really care much for success or money, or even if people "like" what I make, I prefer the quiet satisfaction of seeing an idea through, and having something physical to show for it.
I am not much of a poet, although I do dabble in some lyric and experimental poetry, I mostly work on fiction or mixed media projects. I am always interested in collaboration of ideas and helping others with their work. My own projects usually get set on a huge back burner in order to focus on other people's creativity.
That's enough about me for now....
In response to the Cixous, we read in class. I do not necessarily agree with the general "eyes open for the first time" writing approach. I believe it is important to look at a subject or piece of writing from many different angels, but to re-simplify and cut to the essence of something leaves so much shrapnellic (my word) bit of language and evocation that may be used to strengthen a piece. I love the sticky sap-like residue of writers who have just been writing too long. They are typically jaded, cynical, self-deprecating, etc. These are all qualities that I feel make the experience of writing more exciting.
Adding to a wealth of knowledge and experience, should we choose to simplify? Cast aside our language swords for a mere stick of substance? Maybe it is a good idea, but it does leave one unguarded and in a more vulnerable place then before. I have a hard time casting aside my shell of writing. I have a style and personality that took me along time to get right, reforged again, and again and again. So if I wish to make a masterpiece, something that touches the human spirit, should I cast myself out of my writing? Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it is better to keep a safe distance from your work, and to tread carefully as if it is a new experience each time. This approach may help to provide clarity or deeper richer emotion.
I got the sense of the Phoenix myth form Cixous, at the end of it's life the phoenix smolders into a pile of ashes and is reborn of new flame from those ashes to start anew. Personally, it seems a bit to cliche to me. We are not mental phoenixes, nor are we experiential phoenixes (phoenix?) We harbor emotional attachment to that we are familiar with. Stove hot, ice cold, rain wet, college student cynical, etc. So to cast aside our inclinations feels forced or maybe farced?
My name is Nick Garzon, I've been at Eastern for five years, and with success, this should be my last year. I am a Studio Arts Major, Getting a Bachelors of Science inPrintmaking, with a Creative Writing minor. I love Art and Mixed Media, and believe that lines between the literary world and the art world should be blurred as much as possible. I am in another Creative Writing course this semester, Contemporary Forms with Christine Hume, and she asked us what contemporary form we found inspirational to our work, I think mine would be the new faces of fear in the genre of horror and science fiction. I am not much of a science fiction writer, but I draw most of my inspiration for my own work from elements and fragments of horror movies and scientific fiction, the stranger the better!
I consider myself a storyteller more than a writer, I love most forms of expressing narrative or capturing moments and weaving them into a plot. I am a graphic novel and comic book junkie, and also spend a great deal of time listening to and organizing my ever growing collection of concept albums, books on CD, improvisational poetry, and other exercises in the mode of a great story. My dream job would be working as a writer and illustrator for my own graphic novels, having them published, and being able to put them on my dusty old book shelf at home. I don't really care much for success or money, or even if people "like" what I make, I prefer the quiet satisfaction of seeing an idea through, and having something physical to show for it.
I am not much of a poet, although I do dabble in some lyric and experimental poetry, I mostly work on fiction or mixed media projects. I am always interested in collaboration of ideas and helping others with their work. My own projects usually get set on a huge back burner in order to focus on other people's creativity.
That's enough about me for now....
In response to the Cixous, we read in class. I do not necessarily agree with the general "eyes open for the first time" writing approach. I believe it is important to look at a subject or piece of writing from many different angels, but to re-simplify and cut to the essence of something leaves so much shrapnellic (my word) bit of language and evocation that may be used to strengthen a piece. I love the sticky sap-like residue of writers who have just been writing too long. They are typically jaded, cynical, self-deprecating, etc. These are all qualities that I feel make the experience of writing more exciting.
Adding to a wealth of knowledge and experience, should we choose to simplify? Cast aside our language swords for a mere stick of substance? Maybe it is a good idea, but it does leave one unguarded and in a more vulnerable place then before. I have a hard time casting aside my shell of writing. I have a style and personality that took me along time to get right, reforged again, and again and again. So if I wish to make a masterpiece, something that touches the human spirit, should I cast myself out of my writing? Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe it is better to keep a safe distance from your work, and to tread carefully as if it is a new experience each time. This approach may help to provide clarity or deeper richer emotion.
I got the sense of the Phoenix myth form Cixous, at the end of it's life the phoenix smolders into a pile of ashes and is reborn of new flame from those ashes to start anew. Personally, it seems a bit to cliche to me. We are not mental phoenixes, nor are we experiential phoenixes (phoenix?) We harbor emotional attachment to that we are familiar with. Stove hot, ice cold, rain wet, college student cynical, etc. So to cast aside our inclinations feels forced or maybe farced?
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