I have really enjoyed these episodes about Jones, the trouble is they provoke so many thoughts that I can only comment on a few things that come up. One thing is Sam's observation about his own wish to make poems that are sort of cliched, like they do something with cliche (I wish I knew how to add accents but I don't). This is funny because a while back Sam posted a poem called Me and My Shadow and I remember thinking 'this is like a school project!' "Children, your homework is to write a poem about your shadow". Even the title deliberately did that. But I loved that poem! The way you became a sort of sundial, it was great. Another thing was to do with that thing of work, creative work, but also the sort of work that Jack does on the farm, the feeling that something is lost the less hands-on it is. It just brought to mind a passage from 'The Grapes of Wrath' where Steinbeck talks about the machinery that is replacing the horses, and how the machine goes cold when it's not working, and the deep relation is lost, between the farmer, the animal and the land. I used to read that passage often, it's marked in my copy. Just to add that these episodes have made me want to attempt the poetry of David Jones, which I have resisted before, assuming it would be very difficult and beyond me; these talks only confirm that but also persuade me that the attempt would be more than worthwhile.
Thank you Sam, Seth, Jack, for tackling my question. I asked because what I've read of Seth's poetry strikes me as having rhyme and meter, but not fitting into forms I readily noticed (and yet, it's beautiful and works). And then in episode 43 he commented that the R.S. Thomas poem might have been better off just as a paragraph of prose ... ! So I wanted to know more.
Something in this episode put me in mind of seeing a beautifully drawn, realistic, portrait (probably a sketch really) by Pablo Picasso. At the time I had a very broad view of *all* abstract or non-realistic art as basically worthless, and what I took from it was that Picasso COULD draw well but chose to make ugly stuff instead. What I take from it now is that drawing realistically was the point from which he could start to do what he really wanted to; the skill and accepted form had to come first as a foundation. And I kinda like some of his stuff, it turns out.
I do think this discussion is broadly applicable! I spend a lot of time thinking about correct percentages of dyes relative to weight of cloth to be dyed, water temperature and pH, learning historical dye methods, things I have to get right to be a successful textile dyer--which will hopefully eventually be so second nature that I can use that energy more generatively in creating cool pattern repetitions or getting a wider range of colors using my unique local materials. But . . . what if I wanted to stay in the form and not break out and do something new? What if I wanted to just do what dyers used to do day in and day out? Would it be a kind of perpetual apprenticeship that never fulfilled the point of the form? Is the form always just a starting point, or can it be a fulfilling end point too?
Something this podcast does really well is leave me with more questions.
I have really enjoyed these episodes about Jones, the trouble is they provoke so many thoughts that I can only comment on a few things that come up. One thing is Sam's observation about his own wish to make poems that are sort of cliched, like they do something with cliche (I wish I knew how to add accents but I don't). This is funny because a while back Sam posted a poem called Me and My Shadow and I remember thinking 'this is like a school project!' "Children, your homework is to write a poem about your shadow". Even the title deliberately did that. But I loved that poem! The way you became a sort of sundial, it was great. Another thing was to do with that thing of work, creative work, but also the sort of work that Jack does on the farm, the feeling that something is lost the less hands-on it is. It just brought to mind a passage from 'The Grapes of Wrath' where Steinbeck talks about the machinery that is replacing the horses, and how the machine goes cold when it's not working, and the deep relation is lost, between the farmer, the animal and the land. I used to read that passage often, it's marked in my copy. Just to add that these episodes have made me want to attempt the poetry of David Jones, which I have resisted before, assuming it would be very difficult and beyond me; these talks only confirm that but also persuade me that the attempt would be more than worthwhile.
Yummmm...poetry! ♥️ ... & mysteries 💜
Thank you Sam, Seth, Jack, for tackling my question. I asked because what I've read of Seth's poetry strikes me as having rhyme and meter, but not fitting into forms I readily noticed (and yet, it's beautiful and works). And then in episode 43 he commented that the R.S. Thomas poem might have been better off just as a paragraph of prose ... ! So I wanted to know more.
Something in this episode put me in mind of seeing a beautifully drawn, realistic, portrait (probably a sketch really) by Pablo Picasso. At the time I had a very broad view of *all* abstract or non-realistic art as basically worthless, and what I took from it was that Picasso COULD draw well but chose to make ugly stuff instead. What I take from it now is that drawing realistically was the point from which he could start to do what he really wanted to; the skill and accepted form had to come first as a foundation. And I kinda like some of his stuff, it turns out.
I do think this discussion is broadly applicable! I spend a lot of time thinking about correct percentages of dyes relative to weight of cloth to be dyed, water temperature and pH, learning historical dye methods, things I have to get right to be a successful textile dyer--which will hopefully eventually be so second nature that I can use that energy more generatively in creating cool pattern repetitions or getting a wider range of colors using my unique local materials. But . . . what if I wanted to stay in the form and not break out and do something new? What if I wanted to just do what dyers used to do day in and day out? Would it be a kind of perpetual apprenticeship that never fulfilled the point of the form? Is the form always just a starting point, or can it be a fulfilling end point too?
Something this podcast does really well is leave me with more questions.