Aesthetics

I’ve been reading Bernard Bosanquet’s translation of Hegel’s Introductory Lectures on Aesthetics recently. I read it back in 2002 but decided to revisit it and a few things have struck me so far. Hegel asserts that there are “two opposite ways of treating” the subject of aesthetics. I may be misreading Hegel but aesthetics appears to refer to “a knowledge of the essence of fine art” (17) or a philosophy of art or the science of what is beautiful (which does not include nature). Art includes painting, sculpting, music, poetry, etc. So I’m going to discuss Hegel’s Introductory Lectures on Aesthetics from a poetic perspective.

First, there is the development of theories that “govern both criticism and artistic production” (18, italics mine). These theories rely upon an extensive familiarity with classic and contemporary poetry, a vast knowledge of history, a vivid imagination to recall the varied forms, movements, etc. within classic and contemporary poetry. These theories lead to judgments which form tastes or personal preference. Hegel states that “it remains invariably the case that every man judges works of art…according to the measure of his insight and his feelings” (19). To put it another way, we develop theories based on our knowledge and our tastes, which informs our criticism of poetry and poetic production or what elements we believe should be part of the production of beautiful poetry. Perhaps it’s kind of like having a wealth of knowledge about Chili and arriving at what one believes to be the perfect recipe for Chili.

The second way of treating the subject of aesthetics is a general treatment of poetry that doesn’t touch on the particulars of poetry (language, craft, form, etc.) but is a more of an abstract philosophy of what is beautiful. This second means of treating aesthetics should transcend personal preference, taste, etc.

This leads me to something, or actually two specific things, that have pissed me off in the past few years. First, there was Billy Collins’ introduction to Best American Poetry 2006 as well as his comments at the Best American Poetry event at the New School in September 2006 which included comments that pitted his so-called “school of clarity” against the “school of difficulty” or “water” against “mud.”

Secondly, there was Charles Wright’s introduction to the Best American Poetry 2008 in which Wright states: “I like things to make sense nowadays. Putting aside the nagging possibility that one man’s sense is another man’s sensibility, as the years wind down, I like a definitiveness in things, I want to understand them, even though I know there is precious little sense in earthly affairs (or unearthly ones, for that matter), and God knows not an unlit wick of understanding. Art is supposed, they say, to make sense out of the senseless, coherence out of the incoherent, and connections out of the unconnectible.” He goes onto to comment on the health of contemporary poetry: not a lot of bad poems, but not a lot of good ones (you can see more about this conversation on John Gallaher’s blog).

I was incensed at Billy Collins’ remarks. I was disappointed with Charles Wright’s comments. But after re-reading Hegel I started thinking that their comments are indicative of the theories they’ve developed regarding criticism and artistic production which have led to judgments about what should be in a poem or to use my chili metaphor what ingredients make the best possible chili. Their comments are not reflective of an abstract philosophy of what is beautiful. Their comments are reflective of personal taste…not truth.

Of course there’s going to be conflict between differing theories and Hegel admits as much by suggesting disputes will arise as to which theory is the essential theory. The error occurs when one confuses a practical theory of criticism and artistic production for an abstract philosophy of what is beautiful or vice versa which I think Wright does by articulating that "art is supposed, they say, to make sense out of the senseless..." which seems more like a function of art but the definitiveness of his comment seems to imply something much larger the function or a theory of criticism or artistic production. In addition, I think it’s egregious to believe there is one essential theory…after all haven’t Collins or Wright been to a chili cook off. I don’t like spicy chili but that doesn’t make spicy chili bad chili. Hell, I know people that like Hormel chili just fine. So, I don't know what I'm concluding other then the fact that perhaps anthologies suck unless they're truly like a good old fashioned chili cook off.

Weekend Update

Megan and I went to Metallica at the Spring Center. It was awesome. I'm not a big Metallica fan but it was one of my favorite concerts. They played a lot of older stuff. They made an effort to appeal to both the black album and post black album fans as well as appealing to their hard core fan base: those like my wife who has Kill 'Em All, Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets, and ...And Justice for All but not Metallica or anything thereafter.

This is The End of Everything

Goodbye cable. Goodbye E-Music. Goodbye...

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Tonight I went to see Charles Simic read at the Midwest Poets Series at Rockhurst University. There was a guy next to me playing Who Wants To Be A Millionaire or something like it on his cell phone. There was a little round hairy fella behind me with a sack full of Charles Simic books who would read poems to himself and chuckle incessantly...not on cue I might add. And of course there was the individual who sat down behind me half way through the reading who smelled like sour milk and Mad Dog.

But besides the interesting people I felt like I should have been sitting on a big bear rug listening to Charles Simic tell stories: he sitting cross legged, sipping single malt, smoking a cigarette in front of a roaring fire; me sitting...listening, listening, listening. He had a very dry sense of humor. He was soft spoken. His poetry was dark and yet the imagery was often (not always) very original and disarming. But he was so soft spoken, or perhaps it was poor acoustics mixed with a small voice, made it difficult to focus and hear the poems. So, unfortunately I often found myself shifting in my seat in an attempt to retain some semblance of focus because when I did I was pleasantly surprised.


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A few days ago when Megan and the kids let the dog out they discovered that both the front and back gates were open. Neither Megan nor the kids nor I left the gate open. The only possible reason for the open gate is that someone cut through our backyard between 11:30 pm and 6:00 am. That's a little disconcerting because we have a wooded area beyond our fence. Elijah conjectured that Hawkeye (our Boston Terrier) was not smart enough to open the gates. Gavin added that a "bunny" is too small to open the gates. I told them the only animal capable of opening the gates would be a werewolf. My son Elijah refused to close the gates. I'm a cruel father. My wife played into it later by suggesting she saw a werewolf in the woods. But then we both defused a possibly disastrous onslaught of fear by telling the kids there are no werewolf's and that we were only kidding.

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Farkle scoreboard:

• Gavin = 15
• Elijah = 13
• Me = 11
  
• Megan = 10
  

Gavin is creating quite a lead. He's a dominating Farkle player.

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Bread crumbs for the song lyric title (or name that song or artist): he guest appeared as uncle Bob in the movie I watched tonight: That Thing You Do.

Last Night He Could Not Make It

he tried hard but he could not make it...so tonight he will (this last part is mine).

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I finished David Kirby's The Temple Gate Called Beautiful last night. This was my first Kirby book. Kirby's poetry is "talky" and is similar to Albert Golbarth. I'm not really sure what to do with some "talky" poetry and in Kirby's case I enjoyed a few poems, including the title poem, but found myself getting completely lost in the 3-5, 5-7 page poems that were littered with one literary or artistic or historical reference after another. I often felt like I do when I watch Go Diego, Go with my son Brayden...1/3 paying attention, 1/3 amused, and 1/3 nodding off. Now, I know this isn't entirely fair to Mr. Kirby which is why I've ordered 3 more of his books to get a broader perspective because there were moments I laughed and had fun reading his poems so I'm trying to be pragmatic about it. Perhaps it's Kirby's barrage of artistic/literary references and a landscape that feels entirely irrelevant, and quite frankly, academic, that makes it more difficult to engage.

I have to add that I'm not adverse to "talky" poetry. I feel that Paul Guest, Bob Hicock, and Jason Bredle (these are just a few examples from what I've read in the past 12-18 months) work in "talky" modes but with very different typographies. And in the case of Jason Bredle, I often find myself euphoric, happy, etc. after I read one of his poems. I feel like I'm taking a cross country trip but taking state highways, especially the two lane highways in CO (a little treacherous but very scenic) instead of the interstates, and as a result, I witness a lot of the nuisances of the human experience that I would never noticed if I had just hoped on I-35 and headed north to Des Moines (you know, point to A to point B, point B to point C). BJ has a great description, which is probably more apt, of the often rewarding journey Bredle's poetry takes the reader on.

Thus, I would rate (on the Netflix rating scale of course) David Kirby's The Temple Gate Called Beautiful as a 2 1/2 stars out of 5, which is somewhere between "I don't like it" and "I like it." Ultimately, I may need to read the book again.

I always feel awkward and guilty being semi-critical of a poet. Should I???

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Farkle scoreboard:

• Gavin = 14
• Elijah = 13
• Me = 11
  
• Megan = 9

Yes, I have moved into 3rd place.

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Bread crumbs for the song lyric: the birth place of Demi Moore. Now you can try to guess the song lyric.

The Government Supplies Her Cocaine

Bits:

• I finished Matthea Harvey's Sad Little Breathing Machine this morning. If I was rating it on a Netflix scale I would say 3 out of 5 or "I liked it." But this is a very deceiving rating because when I finished I was left wanting more...more Matthea. Fortunately, I'm also finishing up Modern Life which, so far, is a 4 1/2 out of 5 which would be between "I really liked it" and "I loved it" on the Netflix rating system. I'll probably read both again soon because something about her poetry mystifies me.
  
• I got rejected by The Journal today but it was a nice rejection with a little note from the editors, as opposed to a standard rejection slip. I only have a few outstanding submissions...and then I'm done for a while. BJ on the other hand just got a couple poems accepted. Congratulations BJ.
  
• I'm forcing myself to read Ted Kooser: I've tried to read Delights and Shadows twice and failed both times. This time I will get through it. I want to be well read, even reading poets I don't necessarily like. I once read a poet's (RC) book and quite literally hated it to the extent that I threw it down on the ground. What did I do next? I bought 2 more of RC's books and read them just to give RC a fair shake. I hated the other 2 books even more than the first. But at least I read them.
  
• I've started reading Paula Cisewski's Upon Arrival and Bill Rasmovicz's The World In Place of Itself.
  
• I'm going to miss Hadara Bar-Nadav reading at the Writer's Place tomorrow night which makes me very sad.
  
• My kids are going camping this weekend.
  
• I won the "Family Farkle Game" tonight. I had a streak of winning 0 of the first 24 games we played over the past 2 months. I've caught up though:
• Gavin = 14
• Elijah = 12
• Megan = 9
• Me = 9

There's No Guaranties

I can't figure out what to do with my manuscript. I've decided to stop submitting to journals until next fall. In the meanwhile I'm going to compose new poems, revise older poems, build up a stock pile of new material, and read. But I can't mitigate the bane of my creative existence: that first manuscript.

I suppose my struggle to complete, and maybe more importantly to feel comfortable, is normal but it begs an important question: why am I so hell bent on finishing my first manuscript? First, it seems like the next logical step in my poetic progression. I've had over a hundred accepted and/or published poems; although, I haven't had a ton published by "bigger" or "top tier" journals (although those monikers seem relative). Second, I want validation, which is probably, albeit honest, an inappropriate reason. I've always struggled immensely with the idea of referring to myself as a "poet" because--although I write a lot, read a lot, and have had a few poems published--I don't feel "legitimate" since I don't have a published collection of poetry. Although my reasons for wanting a published manuscript are not tenure, resume building, fame, fortune, etc., it is, quite possibly, driven by vanity.

It might be easy to conclude that perhaps the manuscript isn't ready yet. Of course my close friends BJ and Luke might say I'm being stupid. But I think one of my greatest fears associated with finishing my first manuscript is that I'll finish it, send it out, and then not like the final product: that it will be one of hundreds of mediocre poetry manuscripts. I've always wanted my poetry to matter and I'm afraid it won't matter. I'm not worried about rejection; after being rejected 768 times by literary journals, working in sales for a bank, and having my manuscript rejected 4 times thus far I'm used to rejection. It's part of the process.

One of my other fears is including poems in my first manuscript that really belong in another manuscript. I view my poetry thus far in different time periods:

1. 2001-fall 2005
2. Summer 2004-present

The main difference between the two time periods are voice and form. My voice started shifting in late 2005 as I started experimenting with form but the shift initially started when I started writing a series of 12 Ghazals in the summer of 2004 in response to the arrest of a suspected (and now convicted) serial killer in Kansas City. I wrote one Ghazal for each victim. I just completed the twelfth in the series a few months ago. But the experimentation with the Ghazal as a form that usually expresses "both the pain and loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain" (according to Wikipedia) by using the Ghazal to express both loss and the affects of violence instead of love was the beginning of a shift in voice.

How does this relate to putting together my first manuscript? Well, the manuscript, until now, has included poems that were composed between 2001 and 2005 and are primarily free verse (polyphonic prose). I've been working on the manuscript since March 2003 and since there was an overlap between the two developmental periods quite a few poems from my more recent work were sneaking into the manuscript but they seemed to have a different voice. So, the question I've been asking myself is should I include poems that from both developmental periods since they seem to have different voices?

To be honest, I'd much rather be focusing most of my energy on writing then obsessing about finishing my first manuscript. I don't know...perhaps there's a few chapbooks in my earlier poems and not a manuscript.

But ultimately does it really matter? I started writing poetry because I love poetry and can't get it out of my mind...it's like a sickness. When did it become about publication? After all, I never went to a MFA program so the pressures to compete, produce, build a resume through publication and award winning, etc. has never been prescient. Oh well, love is hell!

Moth Balls

A few bits:

• Everything smelled like moth balls today. I drove north on 69 and it smelled like moth balls; it was either the river or the rail road yards. I got some coffee at Broadway and the Oriental Rug store smelled like moth balls. I stopped by work and the parking lot smelled like moth balls...perhaps it was the fallen crab apples.
  
• Megan, Gavin, Brayden, and I went to The Corner Cafe in Riverside for lunch. I ate too much.
• Elijah's in Omaha with his friends: they're going to the Omaha Zoo tomorrow.
  
• Megan and I are going to watch Iron Man tonight.
• I have a lot of thoughts stirring around but I haven't had the time yet to postulate a written version of my thoughts.
  
• I started David Kirby's The Temple Gate Called Beautiful and I like it so far. I have a list of Alice and James Books I will be purchasing very, very soon...perhaps even tonight.
• The thoughts will come out...perhaps tomorrow night and Monday night.
  

Nobody Said It Was Easy

My 401k has lost 17.06% of its value. I hate looking at but have to check it occasionally. I refuse to look at my IRA as it might be worth next to nothing. Ahhh, fun times...fun times.

Victoria Chang

I went to the Victoria Chang reading tonight but before I get to the details I have to mention that the Digital and Web Manager for the KC Public Library, Kate Barsotti, tracked me down to explain the RVP thing: how did she do that?

Back to the Victoria Chang reading: it was brilliant. She read from Circles, then read from her new collection, Salvinia Molesta, before returning to Circles. I love this approach to a reading; it's the way I envision a good concert. You want to hear some of the oldies (that is the songs you're familiar with) because you may not be familiar with the newer songs. I've been to a lot of readings where the poet just assumes you're familiar with their old work and doesn't even bother reading any older poems and just launches into newer poems that most of the audience is completely unfamiliar with; I like a little bit of both. In addition, she was very unpretentious, down to earth, and interacted with the audience quite a bit: superb etiquette (if that's the right word).

Victoria Chang's poetry is, in every sense of the word, beautiful. She is economical with language. She interacts with history with a fresh and unique voice. She engages universal issues with elegance and grace. Her poetry is truly lyrical. Please pick up her book.

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On a non poetry note:

• We had pork roast last night and my youngest son, Brayden (2 1/2), thought the brown gravy was poop, which of course, my eldest son thought was hilarious. Megan later told Elijah that Brayden is developing a schema for understanding the world and now he knows that brown and runny isn't always poop. Now, he knows brown and runny might be gravy. Of course, Elijah questioned this reasoning by asking: "How does he know a brownie's not poop or meat loaf. They're brown and clumpy."
• I was embarrassed during the debate tonight. Governor Palin was very embarrassing. At one point, I went into my office to pay bills and shut the door so I couldn't hear her.
  
• I got registered in Jackson County (I was registered in Black Hawk County in IA) and I'm definitely voting Obama...just to clarify the previous bullet point.
• Did you hear about the earmarks connected to the Senate Bail Out Bill? Rum producers, auto racing, film and television production, and producers of wooden arrows?
  
• Damage from speeding ticket from about a month ago: $105.00
• Next readings: Hadara Bar Nadav at the Writer's Place next Friday and Charles Simic on Thursday October 23rd.

Promises

I promise I'll blog more. I promise. I didn't mention this earlier because I was too busy not blogging but Cave Wall picked up a couple of my poems a few weeks ago. Cave Wall is an awesome journal and Rhett Iseman Trull is probably the most professional editor I've encountered and is talented poet to boot. Check out Cave Wall when you get a chance...you won't regret it.

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Victoria Change is reading at the gorgeous central library in downtown KC tomorrow night. I loved Circles. The KC Library's website is strange though; their website makes it sound as if you have to RSVP to attend the reading. But I think it's information mining; they just want to snag an e-mail, an address, and phone numbers so they can send me more junk mail.

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By the way, I suck at promises. Now, I'm going to take the trash out; tomorrow is trash day in KC.