The context of a poem, its embodiment, its framing, affects the reading and so changes the poem. This is a photo of a poem-intervention I saw pasted to the wall of a building under demolition in Brussels (I have no idea who made it) (left).

It reminds me of some of Ian Hamilton Finlay’s postcard works, in the way it combines word and image into a poetic compound. But it eschews classical gravitas for wallpaper and poster paints – an improvised, ephemeral statement. And crucial to its meaning is where it is encountered: there on the wall of a ruined building it echoes Brussel’s murals of bandes dessinées, and grows into a political elegy for shelter and home.

Drawing and writing are linked by the line: Coleridge and Klee both took their lines for walks; Blake’s “firm and determinate lineaments” controlled the flow of energy through his words and images. (right)

 


William Blake, Title Page for Songs of Innocence, 1789.

 


 

But with Apollinaire’s Calligrammes, the letters begin to form the lines: the distinction between the written and the drawn starts to blur. Simultaneous perception of different linguistic elements becomes a possibility. Spatial positioning can replace syntax as a way of organising words. (below)

Guillaume Apollinaire, Le Petit Auto, 1912-1918

 

Calligraphers move writing towards the expressive line. I took this photo in Beihai Park, Beijing, in August 2005: calligraphy as public recreation. The practitioners shuffle backwards with their tapered sponges, leaving a trail of water poetry that slowly dries and disappears.

 

 


One of my own ongoing projects is a series of eggbox poems. These use large catering eggboxes as replacements for the page that produce new possibilities for reading. I painted the boxes, and pasted words on the four sides of every square tower. The towers permit some of the words to be consecutively visible, whilst occluding others – the combination changes as you turn the box. I took words from two source texts (in the example pictured, from Wallace Stevens’ Sea Surface Full of Clouds and Coleridge’s This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison), and created cut-up poems from them. The eggbox’s structure causes further recombination of the words as your viewpoint changes.

 


Four poems derived from this eggbox can be found here, but there are many other options. They can be used as scores for improvised multi-voiced performance, or for a reading where a few words are picked out at a time. And if the boxes are contextualised as art objects (to be circled not handled), reading them becomes a physical activity - taking a walk for a line.

The second, turquoise eggbox uses Tsunemi Kubodera and Kyoichi Mori’s paper, First-ever observations of a live giant squid in the wild, and an essay on Giacometti by Jacques Dupin, Impossible Reality, as source material.

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