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February 12, 2008
Probably Anachronistic...
... to discuss boundaries now, but since everything is relevant at any point in time, why not?
My initial opinion of boundaries was their necessity - that is, to safeguard, to reinforce, to structure. To further explain this idea, and in a desperate attempt to tie everything to Kubrick, I will digress with an example: In order to film the extremely important point-of-view shot of Alex's descent from the window towards the end of A Clockwork Orange, Stanley built a boundary for the camera - a box padded many times over - so that it would be able to endure the process it would need to go through in order to accurately capture the shot. It was a safeguard, it reinforced the camera and it provided a structured approach to something as chaotic as throwing an expensive piece of equipment out a second story window. Kubrick executed the process several times before he got a desirable shot.
Getting back on track, I (at the permission of Prof. Moss) went to a poetry reading of Li-Young Lee in place of class this week. Though Mr. Lee presents boundary-related ideas in his work (one poem was on how lonely being in love is because there is a boundary between an accurate portrayal of your feelings towards your significant other), the very presentation Mr. Lee gave of himself and his poetry influenced me to begin thinking about boundaries.
Li-Young Lee modestly creates and presents text poams that methodically elicit intense emotions. In fact, more intense than if he used an obtrusive vocabulary and animatedly performed the poems. Mr. Lee made a comment during the reading about how he has to "scour" his poems because his past will seep in some way or another. In essence, he is creating a boundary in order to structure his poems and reinforce his intentions. Here is an example of his style:
Regarding snowmen, one portion of The Culture of Snowmen struck a chord in me:
Snow also fills gaps, ground extends whitely
to the windows, pitched roof covered with uneven blank pages
I always hated roofs during the winter for this very reason. Jumping back from the topical past to the topical present (in hopes that I can link the two), the lack of symmetry in a snow-covered roof bothered me to no end (this picture actually shows symmetrical patterns, but the roof itself isn't completely covered):
Yup, I was the kid that would sit on the bus with my head plastered to the window, thinking of things such as the symmetry of snow-covered roofs, or (in the summer) why some yards were greener than others. I also paid close attention to the differences in the seven or eight models of houses that lined the streets of my sub.
Personal Opinions
Li-Young Lee touched upon something I'd been desperately missing in my own textual poatic endeavors. I write way too often on a single emotion, caught up in the fervor of that point in time. If I provided boundaries for myself when I created, the structural integrity of my text poams may become more foundational. My mind can still wander, yet my work will benefit. I'm currently attempting this with my latest text poam. I'll post the results once I consider it ready.
I've never been fond of snow. I occasionally enjoy it's beauty, but it's only a boundary to me now, and not one that adds structure or reinforces (other than a seasonal structure). It binds my unsure feet from ever being able to access the pavement they need so dearly in order to walk without slipping. Since my operation, I've fallen more than once during winter. On the way down, the many rapidly-approaching realizations of the leg breaking and eventually being lost flooded my mind every time. When I lose my grip, it's a split-second war where I have limited control to protect the fragility of my leg. The snowflake my be symmetrical, but the conglomeration of snowflakes into snow creates an unsymmetrical boundary, like the temperamental condition of snow-covered rooftops.
Posted by pantaleo at February 12, 2008 07:57 PM
Comments
Thank you so much for this thoughtful post.
Permit this (forked) metaphor (or clarification) (or reconfiguration) (or boundary) of the tree
as a from of poam-making tool (fork):
The system is able to bifurcate much/little, to sub-bifurcate above ground, below --multiple sources, multiple destinations/directions
that tend to be accessed in more of ("all" would be unlikely") their possibilities before and after the "actual" (here meaning external projection of idea into a form that likely can be shared even if the complexity of the ideas that contributed to the structure is not completely shared) act of making,
an act that would correspond more with the relatively linear trunk trunk (of the tree) (or handle of the fork) than with the nonlinear bifurcating branch and root systems;
no matter how abundant the connections; no matter how numerous --or tangled-- the tines, those connections are funneled into/out of the linear act of making a structure out of them
--indeed is this semester limited; whatever you do for the class must be restricted to, must exist within the frame of frame.
If it does not exist within the frame of frame, it is not eligible for consideration for credit for the class.
I too find making within constraints/with constraints useful;
so useful that I believe (have framed my making this way) that I cannot make without them --and indeed, perceived from within the frame I'm in, have not made without them.
Posted by: thyliasm at March 3, 2008 12:49 PM
Oh; I forgot to say this previously:
Kubrick is a fine frame --go ahead and tie/tether/knot/chain away,
Kubrick and pain.
Posted by: thyliasm at March 3, 2008 12:52 PM
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