I go through a volume of Verlaine and the impressions blend to a point where it is impossible to risk any conclusion. All this innate irreverence, this indecent biography, these lines that mix ecstasy and fatigue, this terribly disturbed soul… Verlaine seems like a Dostoievskian character on the verge of madness. And how well he writes! It is as annoying as natural that his work, that is, the work of a deviant artist, has resonated so strongly, especially among the countless deviants who claim to be but will never be artists. But is undeniable the talent with which Verlaine represents, to say with Carpeaux, his “musical sensations”. A comparison with Villon is imperative, and recognition is equally imperative. Great artist!
Tag: literature
Let Them Come Out as the Mirror of the State…
I am in the final verses of another little volume of poems. In these nine or ten months of work, I am pleased to note that I have sat at the table only with a motivation similar to that of a Vigny, an Antero, a Leopardi. And as a result, the verses, all of them, came out heavy, totally devoid of that “grace” that Goethe spoke of. Or, at least, that is how it seems to me. I think it is unlikely, if not impossible, that I will ever submit myself to the extremely exhausting work of hunting for words to produce that “grace” that so delights. Even if a blessing falls into my bank account, even if I am in the best of moods, it operates something as if automated by habit: psychologically, sitting down to compose verses fulfills an almost religious sequence that fills my mind with a seriousness that repels the futile, the light, the “graceful”. If is to make verses, let them come out as the mirror of the state of someone’s soul that sees them as the last chance to express what pulses strongest in him. Let them come out disturbed, complex, unpleasant! And may they never look like the person who wrote them was having fun…
For the Beginning Artist, It Is Intimidating to Find Himself…
For the beginning artist, it is intimidating to find himself preceded by dozens of centuries and an incalculable number of other artists who have done what he only intends to do. If we add the critics and art theorists, we will have an infinite number of judgments, schools, definitions of what is or is not art, what is or is not good, what should or should not be done. In this, the one who is still struggling to find the expression of what he feels will find himself bombarded and will hardly risk the first step, it being more comfortable to silence his inner voice. The truth, however, is that the artist has to assume himself, and the sooner he does so, the better. All this immense past, which enchants and intimidates, must be used to the extent that it is useful to him, and should never be an obstacle to the expression of what he thinks is fair. It takes courage! And, moreover, personality to execute exactly what he wants.
The Difficult Thing in Art Is to Make Intelligent Use of It…
The difficult thing in art is to make intelligent use of the spontaneous manifestations that arise during the process, inserting them into the predefined structure without harming the whole. Often, the highest peaks of a work are the result of unexpected flashes of light that the author knew how to take advantage of. The whole, it is true, lacks order; and order is not made from a spark that suddenly springs up in the spirit. But the artist, if surprised by the adventitious idea, will do very well to transfer this surprise effect to his work. Art will win.