by O'Hara I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in. "Sit down and have a drink" he says. I drink; we drink. I look up. "You have SARDINES in it." "Yes, it needed something there." "Oh." I go and the days go by and I drop in again. The painting is going on, and I go, and the days go by. I drop in. The painting is finished. "Where's SARDINES?" All that's left is just letters, "It was too much," Mike says. But me? One day I am thinking of a color: orange. I write a line about orange. Pretty soon it is a whole page of words, not lines. Then another page. There should be so much more, not of orange, of words, of how terrible orange is and life. Days go by. It is even in prose, I am a real poet. My poem is finished and I haven't mentioned orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call it ORANCES. And one day in a gallery I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.
mrFed87: hey mrFed87: you there? mrFed87 is idle at 11:54:12 AM. mrFed87 signed off at 12:04:26 PM. mrFed87 signed on at 12:04:44 PM. zeugirdoRC: hey mrFed87 is no longer idle at 12:07:49 PM. mrFed87: skype mrFed87: ? zeugirdoRC: ok mrFed87: hold on though, i need to get the mic zeugirdoRC: hold on I need my passwd mrFed87: ok i'm ready zeugirdoRC: wait zeugirdoRC: ok call mrFed87: ? mrFed87: cmon mrFed87: you have to answer zeugirdoRC: try again mrFed87: why don tyou call me mrFed87: try that zeugirdoRC: what's your name? mrFed87: mrfed87 mrFed87 is idle at 3:51:09 PM. mrFed87 is no longer idle at 3:58:29 PM. zeugirdoRC: did you finish the paper? mrFed87: nope zeugirdoRC: are you working on it? mrFed87: sort of mrFed87: i cant think of anything mrFed87: its a difficult poem zeugirdoRC: then leave it for a while... do some math with me... then go back to it mrFed87: i need to be inspired to be able to write anything good about it mrFed87: haha mrFed87: no mrFed87: i need to do it zeugirdoRC: forget inspiration... just start doing it.. then the insp comes mrFed87: haha mrFed87: what do you think about it zeugirdoRC: show me mrFed87: Why I am Not A Painter by O'Hara I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in. "Sit down and have a drink" he says. I drink; we drink. I look up. "You have SARDINES in it." "Yes, it needed something there." "Oh." I go and the days go by and I drop in again. The painting is going on, and I go, and the days go by. I drop in. The painting is finished. "Where's SARDINES?" All that's left is just letters, "It was too much," Mike says. But me? One day I am thinking of a color: orange. I write a line about orange. Pretty soon it is a whole page of words, not lines. Then another page. There should be so much more, not of orange, of words, of how terrible orange is and life. Days go by. It is even in prose, I am a real poet. My poem is finished and I haven't mentioned orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call it ORANCES. And one day in a gallery I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES. zeugirdoRC: a beat! mrFed87: yeah mrFed87: a beat who makes no freakin sense zeugirdoRC: well.... zeugirdoRC: yeah... it's pretty freaking cryptic mrFed87: yeah mrFed87: so thats why it takes me forever mrFed87: i need to write two pages on it zeugirdoRC: have you tried googling O'Hara and the beatnik movement... mrFed87: yep zeugirdoRC: too much blabla I bet zeugirdoRC: I think O'Hara was out of all closets (or at least he tried to be) zeugirdoRC: Remember this was the 1950s !!! when every one in America was a good guy and a housewife mrFed87: nah doesnt matter so much mrFed87: its about the transition between image and art mrFed87: between ideas and art zeugirdoRC: cool mrFed87: and its hard to read because its disconnected mrFed87: just like ideas and art mrFed87: the line breaks are very carfeully placed mrFed87: he never really explains why hes not a painter mrFed87: also, most importantly mrFed87: SARDINES is a word written in mike goldberg's painting mrFed87: the painter is taking a word and making an image zeugirdoRC: and he is taking an image and making a poem mrFed87: while the poet is taking a color (a painter's tool) and making words mrFed87: i dont get this part hoguh mrFed87: There should be so much more, not of orange, of words, of how terrible orange is and life. mrFed87: yeah mrFed87: i just start thinking mrFed87: and cant think of anything mrFed87: i dont have enough mrFed87: i dont get enough of it zeugirdoRC: O'Hara's poetry is OPEN zeugirdoRC: he said it himself mrFed87: yeah, its orise mrFed87: prose zeugirdoRC: It is NATURAL LANGUAGE zeugirdoRC: the beats started that zeugirdoRC: no Poets in the Olympus.... zeugirdoRC: no ridiculus metric rules zeugirdoRC: just regular language ...but non-trivial meaning zeugirdoRC: they liberated poetry from the ivory tower zeugirdoRC: ok now I get it mrFed87: hit me zeugirdoRC: it is clearly 2-parts zeugirdoRC: paint-poem mrFed87: yeah' zeugirdoRC: it is about the process of creativity zeugirdoRC: a counter point between painting and writing poetry zeugirdoRC: the painter "knows" that the paint "it needed something there"... mrFed87: but then he takes it away zeugirdoRC: the poet "knows" ... "there should be so much more.. not of orange.." mrFed87: in both pieces, the poem and the painting, the orignial subject matter is erased mrFed87: just like this piece of art mrFed87: because he never expalins "why hes not a painter" mrFed87: but i dont get it then mrFed87: is ohara saying that what originally inspires isnt important? zeugirdoRC: ... I'm thinking... and reading zeugirdoRC: check this out: http://www.artnet.com/artist/7124/Michael_Goldberg.html mrFed87: http://www.english.uiuc.edu/maps/poets/m_r/ohara/exhibit/sardines.jpg zeugirdoRC: Perfect! zeugirdoRC: you can even read "SARDINES" and EXIT at the top mrFed87: yeah zeugirdoRC: and sardines he writes SARDINES just like in the picture mrFed87: yeah, its not a word anymore mrFed87: its an image zeugirdoRC: It is not true that he doesn't explain why is not a painter but that he is a poet. zeugirdoRC: Why? I think I would rather be // a painter, but I am not. Well, zeugirdoRC: he is a good poet. He proves it with that line mrFed87: how so zeugirdoRC: Because he explains why he is not a painter and why he is a poet. zeugirdoRC: He is not a painter because HE THINKS HE WOULD RATHER BE// a painter zeugirdoRC: and because he wrote THAT he is a poet mrFed87: dont getit zeugirdoRC: well to beging with , he doesn't paint. zeugirdoRC: BUT he writes that "he thinks he would rather be// a painter..." zeugirdoRC: if you think you would rather be whatever you are not that whatever zeugirdoRC: but as you said the break of the line is important.... he thinks he would rather BE // zeugirdoRC: that's the business of a good poet... mrFed87: what is? being? zeugirdoRC: yeah zeugirdoRC: and to think that "I would rather be" zeugirdoRC: and to write "I think I would rather be" zeugirdoRC: By the way I just read other poems by him... from the book ("The beat poets") that we have.... mrFed87: he good/ zeugirdoRC: and I noticed that in almost all of them he makes references to painting and painters mrFed87: yeah zeugirdoRC: and even ORANGE mrFed87: you read it? zeugirdoRC: what? zeugirdoRC: One important subject that's touched in the poem is the temporality of the creative procces.... It is a PROCCESSSS (2s and 2c?) mrFed87: what do you mean by temporaliyu zeugirdoRC: a procces in time zeugirdoRC: one thing takes to the next and grows and shrinks in time zeugirdoRC: the same happens with SARDINES and with ORANGES zeugirdoRC: that's cool zeugirdoRC: with painting and with poetry zeugirdoRC: with math and cs mrFed87: what do you mean one thing grows mrFed87: one idea? zeugirdoRC: yes and the canvas itself. mrFed87: explain yourself zeugirdoRC: Remember he describes the evolution of the painting mrFed87: yeah zeugirdoRC: t=tinit to t=tfinal zeugirdoRC: the painting evolves from no SARDINES to too much SARDINES to just some SARDINES letters... idem with the poem about ORANGES zeugirdoRC: and so ...tic,tac,toe goes life...,"I go and the days go by..." zeugirdoRC: Mike Goldberg is a painter. He produces SARDINES.// Frank O'Hara is a poet. He produces ORANGES. mrFed87: ok ok mrFed87: but i still dont understand, why the original idea, the source of inspiration, is not in the poem mrFed87: because it hink it is mrFed87: it jsut isnt explicitly stated zeugirdoRC: but maybe the source of inspiration does not matter. What matters is the process of creation.... "just rather be", "just do it!" as Nike says. zeugirdoRC: This is a pretty cool poem actually mrFed87: yeah mrFed87: source not important eh zeugirdoRC: nope mrFed87: but in ezra pounds poem, a staion in the metro mrFed87: he sees this incredible image mrFed87: and he puts it to words zeugirdoRC: Doesn't matter SARDINES or ORANGES mrFed87: and he re-creates the image mrFed87: in words mrFed87: the source is very important there mrFed87: so i dont get it zeugirdoRC: Well, Ezra \noequal O'Hara mrFed87: no, wrong answer mrFed87: both are good poets mrFed87: no one is better than the other zeugirdoRC: I didn't say that zeugirdoRC: cool it zeugirdoRC: how do yo do the italics so quickly? mrFed87: o'hara's poem, if its good, must apply universally mrFed87: ctrl-i zeugirdoRC: thks zeugirdoRC: I'm not sure zeugirdoRC: what's good? zeugirdoRC: who says it is good? mrFed87: i left my shoes there zeugirdoRC: where? mrFed87: at home, or in the car mrFed87: one of the two zeugirdoRC: haha mrFed87: i need my shoes and my razor zeugirdoRC: chaise zeugirdoRC: which shoes mrFed87: my hiking shoes zeugirdoRC: hmmm zeugirdoRC: I'll look for them zeugirdoRC: buy another razor... but a good one zeugirdoRC: but Do NOT buy another pair of shoes mrFed87: i'm going to dinner zeugirdoRC: I'm hungry 2 zeugirdoRC: hungry^2 mrFed87: hhaa mrFed87: k mrFed87: well mrFed87: eat then zeugirdoRC: bon apetit zeugirdoRC: a la Francaise zeugirdoRC: it is probably all spelled WRONG |