If you’ve been following Poetry in Process and would like to delve further into some of the findings of this research, I’m running a short, intensive online course based on the findings of Poetry in Process called Creativity and Innovation, from the 27th-30th July. The course takes the form of four three-hour workshops over four days, and is run through the University of Canberra.
It highlights the following factors that have been found to contribute to innovation:
The need for physicality, play and movement
The importance of experiment, especially with different points of view, as a way of enhancing understanding and empathy
How using novel creative approaches, including collaboration, helps us generate creative ideas and tackle problems
The value of other disciplines and genres, and how creativity can become a way of managing diverse tasks
Christian acknowledges that his ten rules discussed in the podcast build on centuries of knowledge about writing, and he notes the particular contribution of Ezra Pound to this kind of schematic for poetry. Christian’s rules are concise, illuminating and full of great examples, some of them from his own students. It’s best not to take the word ‘rules’ too seriously – there are really only guidelines for poetry – and to focus on what’s useful about them. I’d long been aware, for example, that using the verb ‘to be’ tends to flatten expressions and take the energy out of them – I’ve been writing, at this point, for 38 years, but it’s easy to forget, and I badly needed the reminder that Christian’s guidance offered. Christian talked in our first podcast with him on his process about formulating a set of principles that amount to a ‘periodic table’ of activities for writing poetry, and the scientific analogy is especially apt for his approach. Here is a summary of the rules with examples from his account of them:
our recent podcast with experimental poet Christian Bök, I spoke with a poet who
has a truly scientific approach to poetry, who ‘conducts experiments through
language.’ He accepts that some experiments won’t work, but is committed to
seeing them through, even if they represent decades of work through complex
processes. His poetry can be termed ‘process poetry’: work where the act of
creating becomes part of the content.
delighted to be able to bring you our second podcast, with experimental poet Christian
Bök. Christian’s approach to poetry is scientific. He uses experiments in
poetry to test ideas and capacities, unsure of outcomes. He has dedicated
himself to ‘formalistic innovations’ and ‘exploratory procedures,’ which means
that his work is intimately bound up with process.
Sometimes I’m amazed and delighted by other forms of art and want to respond in poetry. I want to go further than simply responding through the content of my work. I want the dynamics of the other art form to effect the structures of my poetry, to help invigorate and update my poetry, in what I call a radical ekphrasis. In a recent article, published in Axon, I address the popular topic of ekphrasis – writing in response to other forms of art, and show that the close association the word has with visual arts is an entirely modern one, and that the ancient understanding of ekphrasis was one of the general ability to make a scene vivid.
Have you read the Poetry in Process blogpost about Lisa Samuels and multiplicity yet? Don’t forget we’d love to hear any comments about what resonated with you. Today I am excited to bring you one of Lisa’s poems that experiments with sound as meaning and was featured in the Poetry New Zealand Yearbook. This is a revised version included in her latest collection Foreign Native (Black Radish Books, 2018). Hope you enjoy it!
People talk about the vanguard takes a turn its conscript energy acts on macro-particles as though you choose or Resolute you’re given mesh back to the deal your limbs eye dim harmonics rise for tiny ones Crash at you crash at me “give us a family look”
In an interview with transnational poet Lisa Samuels, she suggests that at the heart of her poetry and her process is a multiplicity of reference and background. When asked by interviewer Jack Ross, in the first issue of the revamped Poetry New Zealand Yearbook, which writers inspire her she answers in terms of categories, and says that she is as likely to be inspired by, “patterns, sounds, place histories, images, philosophy, statistics for a country’s fabric imports, dictionaries, encyclopedias, poetry, experimental drama, strange comics, physics hypotheses, theory, and manifestos,” as writers (41).
In this exploration of poetic process, I’ve been gathering what can be gleaned from existing interviews when the subject of process bubbles up. Jamaican-born US poet Claudia Rankine responds to a question from interviewer Katy Lederer about the differences between her first two collections Nothing in Nature is Private and The End of the Alphabet by saying that, from her point of view, part of the problem with her first book was that, “the subject did not determine the form” (in Henry & Zawacki 2005, 147). This, she says, led to a situation where the point of view of the book started to “typecast itself” into a pre-conceived portrait of blackness and immigration which meant that her own consciousness seemed to become lost (147).
I came across a fascinating interview with Indigenous poet Alison Whittaker in a recent issue of the Melbourne-based journal Rabbit. Whittaker is both a lawyer and a poet. She believes that poetry and law have much in common, since they both “litigate meaning and try to persuade people,” and both have rules and codes. They differ in their degree of formality, and Whittaker’s progress in both domains has become less about balancing and more about harmonising. This has resulted in the emergence of an intriguing process at work in some of her poetry.
Smith makes a lot of art. She is a poet willing to experiment, and, invariably,
the experiments pay off. Whether with form, or seeking out incisive and vital
new content, her work interrogates language and society. It’s reaped the
rewards of recognition in the form of the Australian Prime Minister’s Literary
Award for Poetry and in being viewed as a poet who balances openness and play with
a concern for social justice.
We have a society . . . in which artists are free to do and say mostly what they like without being . . . thrown into jail for it, and we should celebrate that fact and use it to aspire to be a society in which there is a lot of art for everyone.