11-30-2014, 11:28 PM
Shem,
Many thanks for the passionate response! Here's my reply.
I'm going to say a thing with conviction and then immediately contradict myself. So here goes.
Having thought at length about this, and without pretending to authority, it is my contention that the longstanding debate about the definition of art is over. Every novel artistic movement has been scrutinized under that lens. Is Impressionism art? Cubism? Dada? Abstract Expressionism? Found Art? Monet, Picasso, Duchamp, Pollock, Duchamp again--art?
To me, it's settled. I am fully convicted that the answer to the question, "What is art?" is, "Art is anything published as art."
It may be bad art, but it's art. It would be weird to criticize a fallen acorn for its artistic merits. But if I pointed to it and called it art, such a critique would be licit.
That's what I think, and I refuse to budge!
But then Shem walks into the room and says, "That thing you made is art."
Ugh.
I dunno, man. Maybe so. I can't tell you that, for reasons, you can't say "this isn't a poem, it's art." All's I know is, to me, I didn't publish it as art and so it isn't.
I could make good arguments against your argument that it's art--your argument proves too much, it voids the word "art" of scope, it's generally unresponsive to the piece itself--but I just want to say, "really, man? I'm trying here, could you meet me halfway?"
Is it cool if I just kinda sidestep the issue of whether it's conceptual art and instead engage in the dialogue I was trying to kick up?
(1) Is it a poem?
(2) Is it a worthwhile poem?
(3) Is the reader of a poem required to attempt the kind of analysis I performed before passing on to an evaluation of that poem's worth?
So, quickly, I'd say yes to all three. And, quickly, here's why.
(1) Is it a poem?
First, I'd note that a thing may be a poem despite a reader's refusal to call it such. Here, your refusal to call it a poem amounts to a tautology. That's nothing personal, but much of your argument hinges on a subjective denial that "self-titled" is a poem rather than a proposal about what makes a bunch of words a poem and where this particular bunch of words doesn't fit that definition
Second, "self-titled" is intended to interrogate the nature of poetry. To do so, it refuses to adopt any poetic devices, such as rhyme or meter. However, it references those devices by its refusal: It slant-rhymes "bug" with "what," but just barely, it has line breaks that give it the look of a poem but that can be explained as merely getting out of the way of the bug, it flouts grammar conventions as poet's often do, but in away that just looks lazy, and any effort to define its metrical feet is frustratingly frustrated. At first, line 1 feels spondaic, but that can't exist in English. But if you read line 1 as a stressed, standalone syllable followed by an anapestic foot, then it sounds like I'm asking you to look at this bug rather than, say, listening to it. And if you read it as two iambs, it sounds like you should look *at* at this bug and not around or through or beside it. Then, reading it as two trochees makes it seem like I'm directing your attention to *this* bug and away from others. And trying to read a dactyl into the line creates gobbledygook. And yet, it can't be spondaic . . .
So, then, maybe call it an anti-poem. Maybe that's what it is. And maybe, if that's where the analysis takes you, you can say, "meh, I got something out if it, so I guess it was worthwhile, I guess. So I guess, the answer to (2) is yes, I guess."
But that brings us to (3), "Is the reader of a poem required to attempt the kind of analysis I performed before passing on to an evaluation of a poem's worth?"
So, for ease, let's call my analysis a "close read." That's not exactly right, but it'll do for now. Must a reader perform a close-read before judging a poem as good or bad?
I think yes. I think, specifically, until the reader has conducted a close reading, the best they can do is "I think the poem is good," or "I think it's bad." The close read gives you license to drop the "I think . . . ".
Now, the steps behind a proper close reading of a poem are, to my knowledge, underdetermined. And this is my justification for the poem, the analysis/interpretation, and this response. If one were to develop such steps, they could be tested against "self-titled." If they failed to yield the analysis/interpretation above, they're missing a piece.
So . . . that's all.
Many thanks for the passionate response! Here's my reply.
I'm going to say a thing with conviction and then immediately contradict myself. So here goes.
Having thought at length about this, and without pretending to authority, it is my contention that the longstanding debate about the definition of art is over. Every novel artistic movement has been scrutinized under that lens. Is Impressionism art? Cubism? Dada? Abstract Expressionism? Found Art? Monet, Picasso, Duchamp, Pollock, Duchamp again--art?
To me, it's settled. I am fully convicted that the answer to the question, "What is art?" is, "Art is anything published as art."
It may be bad art, but it's art. It would be weird to criticize a fallen acorn for its artistic merits. But if I pointed to it and called it art, such a critique would be licit.
That's what I think, and I refuse to budge!
But then Shem walks into the room and says, "That thing you made is art."
Ugh.
I dunno, man. Maybe so. I can't tell you that, for reasons, you can't say "this isn't a poem, it's art." All's I know is, to me, I didn't publish it as art and so it isn't.
I could make good arguments against your argument that it's art--your argument proves too much, it voids the word "art" of scope, it's generally unresponsive to the piece itself--but I just want to say, "really, man? I'm trying here, could you meet me halfway?"
Is it cool if I just kinda sidestep the issue of whether it's conceptual art and instead engage in the dialogue I was trying to kick up?
(1) Is it a poem?
(2) Is it a worthwhile poem?
(3) Is the reader of a poem required to attempt the kind of analysis I performed before passing on to an evaluation of that poem's worth?
So, quickly, I'd say yes to all three. And, quickly, here's why.
(1) Is it a poem?
First, I'd note that a thing may be a poem despite a reader's refusal to call it such. Here, your refusal to call it a poem amounts to a tautology. That's nothing personal, but much of your argument hinges on a subjective denial that "self-titled" is a poem rather than a proposal about what makes a bunch of words a poem and where this particular bunch of words doesn't fit that definition
Second, "self-titled" is intended to interrogate the nature of poetry. To do so, it refuses to adopt any poetic devices, such as rhyme or meter. However, it references those devices by its refusal: It slant-rhymes "bug" with "what," but just barely, it has line breaks that give it the look of a poem but that can be explained as merely getting out of the way of the bug, it flouts grammar conventions as poet's often do, but in away that just looks lazy, and any effort to define its metrical feet is frustratingly frustrated. At first, line 1 feels spondaic, but that can't exist in English. But if you read line 1 as a stressed, standalone syllable followed by an anapestic foot, then it sounds like I'm asking you to look at this bug rather than, say, listening to it. And if you read it as two iambs, it sounds like you should look *at* at this bug and not around or through or beside it. Then, reading it as two trochees makes it seem like I'm directing your attention to *this* bug and away from others. And trying to read a dactyl into the line creates gobbledygook. And yet, it can't be spondaic . . .
So, then, maybe call it an anti-poem. Maybe that's what it is. And maybe, if that's where the analysis takes you, you can say, "meh, I got something out if it, so I guess it was worthwhile, I guess. So I guess, the answer to (2) is yes, I guess."
But that brings us to (3), "Is the reader of a poem required to attempt the kind of analysis I performed before passing on to an evaluation of a poem's worth?"
So, for ease, let's call my analysis a "close read." That's not exactly right, but it'll do for now. Must a reader perform a close-read before judging a poem as good or bad?
I think yes. I think, specifically, until the reader has conducted a close reading, the best they can do is "I think the poem is good," or "I think it's bad." The close read gives you license to drop the "I think . . . ".
Now, the steps behind a proper close reading of a poem are, to my knowledge, underdetermined. And this is my justification for the poem, the analysis/interpretation, and this response. If one were to develop such steps, they could be tested against "self-titled." If they failed to yield the analysis/interpretation above, they're missing a piece.
So . . . that's all.
A yak is normal.