Tag: literature

Language offers everyone identical possibilities. It is nothing more than a huge set of signs to be used as a vehicle for the expression of ideas, facts, feelings. In a work of art, therefore, the use of language, the style, will be more authentic the more it individualizes the expression of what it intends to express, that is, the more the uniqueness of the artist is exposed through the universal set of signs. Well then. It seems that based on this—correct—reasoning, everything has been legitimized in letters and, due to another reasoning that often accompanies it—that, in art, the important thing is to be “original”—true aberrations have been considered marvelous. Faced with such works, one gets the feeling that there is something wrong, that something so simplistic cannot be good, just because it is different. And then it seems fair to note that true mastery, in art, makes the complex appear simple—and not the other way around…

If we have form as a means,—and not as an end,—and technique as the expression of an individuality, we must admit a certain relativism regarding the aesthetic quality of a work. Better said: although many have tried to do so, it is not possible to establish, in art, rigid and universally applicable criteria to judge a work. Especially when it comes to technique, it is not rare to see first-rate artists seem to cultivate it in an antagonistic way, making it obvious, therefore, that this “how” is valid as it enhances an individuality which, yes, is a reasonable measure of the greatness of a work.

We read a handful of coeval poems and we realize: punctuation is broken, capital letters are dispensed with, verses are often short, and the effect seems to depend on the aesthetics and on solitary words as units of meaning. The truth is that interesting effects are drawn from such techniques, already widely explored… These half irrational, half exotic and apparently sloppy constructions suggest a kind of ecstasy; but it seems that the most drastic change, as far as technique is concerned, is that the poems have become visual pieces. Although dependent on words, they have sound as secondary, and are meant to be read, or rather visualized—never recited. It is true: we find one or another alliteration, one or another parallelism; but these poems were not intended to be rhythmic constructions. We have to admit: even if sometimes they lack technique, in many of them we find genius—which is undoubtedly superior…