Archive for May, 2008

Liminal Masks

Friday, May 30th, 2008

Jeannine Hall Gailey’s essay, Why Women Wear Masks, in the current issue of poemeleon indicates how the persona poem embodies liminality.

The second reason a writer might choose to write in persona has to do with the psychology of the writer. Carl Jung spoke of the persona as the mask or façade that each person presents to the outside world.

The persona…is the individual’s system of adaptation to, or the manner he assumed in dealing with, the world. Every calling or profession, for example, has its own characteristic persona…. Only, the danger is that (people) become identical with their personae—the professor with his textbook, the tenor with his voice…. One could say, with a little exaggeration, that the persona is that which in reality one is not, but which oneself as well as others think one is. (420)

In persona poetry, this is doubly true—the writer knowingly selects another person to represent in their work, which unconsciously displays something about their internal psychology. Writing persona poems might allow a writer to fully voice an emotion they might be repressing, such as anger or sadness, without feeling they are personally vulnerable. They can express opinions without fear of reprisal, since, after all, the writer isn’t presenting their own opinions, merely those of a created character. This can result in an artistic embrace of the “shadow” self, as well as an exploration of the anima/animus of the writer. Using archetypes from fairy tales and mythology allows writers to explore the subconscious collective imagination that we share as well.

The speaker of a persona poem necessarily has a liminal identity. It is at once the poet and someone else; from the poet’s perspective it exists on the threshold between self and other. In the case of an archetypal figure, it exists between self and many, even all, others. This liminality feeds into the poems that Gailey describes as “subversive remaking of patriarchal narratives”. To change the old stories requires an transitional, temporary, and incomplete identification with the

The bulk of the essay examines the use of personae by Margaret Atwood, Lucille Clifton and Louise Glück; it is worth reading with these ideas in mind.

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Mystery in Derek Henderson’s “The Road Along St. Jude’s”

Wednesday, May 21st, 2008

In Boxcar Poetry Review’s May 2008 issue, Derek Henderson’s “The Road Along St. Jude’s” stands out for its development and defense of mystery. The poem begins with and builds on a mystery the mystery of what emerges “[o]ut of my lungs” and then travels over “backroad and gravel”. With the patron saint of lost causes in the title, this reader at least can imagine heavy phlegm or the blood brought up by that once-poetic killer we now call tuberculosis or by the vulgarly familiar TB but the strength of the title’s suggestion of travel also creates the idea of a person emerging from the lungs, perhaps in fact the speaker.

Dwelling in this mystery with the reader along for the ride (whether kicking and screaming or enjoying the vicarious negative capability depends, of course, on the individual’s preferences) Henderson writes the erstwhile lung-dweller to “Crossed curves” that it perhaps travels “over”. The nature of these crossed curves themselves is uncertain. They could be roads that turn away from an intersection rather than continuing straight, or perhaps “Crossed” should be taken as a verb. Though this seems unlikely given the tenses of other verbs in the poem, the first-time reader will not see any of these until after the nearby comma, so it remains a reasonable possibility for at least half a breath. Another possibility picks up the religious theme of the title: the phrase could describe a Celtic cross.

This possibility connects the first stanza with the last:

You want to paint my
God that leavens the tree
Failing—again, falling—into a church

God leavening the tree suggests growth but also draws in echoes of the Passover holiday when (human-made) leavening is not allowed, while the last line suggests the felix culpa: the Church only exists because of original sin, and falling into a church brings up all sorts of redemption narratives. A Latin phrase may conjure up associations with the Roman Catholic Church, though this effect will be at least mitigated for readers who recognize its origin in Horace. Indeed, this problematic religiosity supports a reading of the final stanza as a protest against those who want to paint God, and by extension, the mystery the poem begins with in any particular concrete way.

The middle stanzas also substantiate this meaning as phrases and incomplete unpunctuated sentences suggest heteroglossia. This part of the poem appeals less to me, however, as it seems only to provide a supported resting place for the mystery rather than building and defending it.

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Unmasking Transformation

Wednesday, May 14th, 2008

C.J. Conner’s “Masks”, the cover image for Volume 1, Issue 3 of The Sylvan Echo captures the transformations of an (adult) lifetime in a single picture of two women in similar dresses with similar hairstyles and earrings. The younger woman removes an elderly mask, the older woman a youthful one. The former could be taken as the memories of a bygone time hidden beneath wrinkled skin, the latter as potential wisdom (or dementia) underneath smooth skin. This is somewhat complicated by the skin on the women’s necks, wrists, and (where not hidden by gloves) hands matching the face under the mask.

Maturing, however, though often associated with certain milestones, has never been a linear process. Not one of us develops constantly and consistently along a rising line; we face setbacks, wrong turns, and regressions. Any thoroughgoing transformation will proceed in such a zigzag manner. That the particular steps in a transformation that this moment of unmasking cannot be determined precisely makes Conner’s art more representative of the whole process rather than a single point within it.

Also important here is how the eyes suggest that the two women pictured are separate individuals rather than aspects of the same idea or figure. Not only does each woman have a different eye color, but also each has one eye set in her mask and one in her face. Both these eyes work together, suggesting each individual’s continuity within transformation.

Whether such continuity is more an artifact of how we frame our world than of reality, C.J. Conner’s method of portraying it in “Masks” adds an intriguing layer to an already complicated image of transformation caught in time.

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Saint Monica On the Verge

Thursday, May 8th, 2008

In the current issue of Valparaiso Poetry Review, Mary Biddinger’s “Saint Monica Burns It Down” presents a woman drawing a dramatic line between herself and a man who has mistreated her. The poem focuses on this action rather than going into details of the relationship (though the man’s affair is presented), and we are given no idea as to what will happen next in the lives of any of the poem’s three characters. Thus, this text is a poem of threshold space. A literal threshold is made of glass and habanero pepper seeds, while the longer and shorter lines expressing this act and the circumstances around it are so arranged that the work, viewed sideways, resembles another kind of threshold: a picket fence.

Within the poem’s cusp, ambiguity surrounds the fate of the “other woman” who “sipped cordial by the light of a gas stove”. The word cordial itself has overtones of warmth and happiness thanks to its alternative meaning, warm and friendly. The word also originates from Latin for heart. These two together seem to suggest some sort of connection between two betrayed women. Of course, any such connection would likely be mystical, as no literal communication between them is mentioned. If we allow for such mysticism, we must also allow for the possibility of cordial as potion (or, less magically, poison). That the woman could possess certain witchy powers or at least a knowledge of chemicals and herbs is suggested by her ability to make her peppers grow to “unimaginable lengths and heat” and by the blindness the man suffers after touching the spiked windowsill. Saint Monica - Andrea del Verrocchio

This woman being identified as a saint further underscores her connection to the mystical. The visions of many a medieval nun would have caused her to be burned at the stake had they lacked the appropriate Christian gloss.

As for her being Saint Monica, one could say this poem presents a very different reason for her to be “able to exercise a veritable apostolate amongst the wives and mothers of her native town” than the “sweetness and patience” to which the Catholic Encyclopedia refers.

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Liminal Space for Social Change

Wednesday, May 7th, 2008

I didn’t start CRIT simply because I found liminal and threshold spaces to be aesthetically pleasing (although I do); I started Crossing Rivers Into Twilight with an awareness and belief that such spaces, and growth in such spaces, are essential to positive social change and the development of an egalitarian society or societies. This awareness appears, too, in Sudy’s words about the severe limitations of mainstream feminism and its inability to participate in intersectionality:

if you’re appealing to mainstream, you will never fly with intersectionality. The sacred space of difference is an experience of intense joy and immeasureable pain. That grey is too in-depth for cool, “normalcy,” or a dollar. Mainstream feminism is the attempt to, once again, prioritize the needs and concerns of the few, and claim it universal for all. It attempts to water down the rocks so that most people can wash it down. Mainfemistream vocalizes the same objective of candied individualism that refuses to heed caution for others’ well-being. To sell feminism, someone, somewhere usually has to be forfeited in the process.

(Read the whole post.)

I want to publish words that forfeit no one and no experience. I want works that live in the interconnections and impossible networks. I want art that doesn’t sell but, rather, gives– even or perhaps especially if all it can give is survival.

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Coconut Twelve’s Sweet Meat

Monday, May 5th, 2008

Young CoconutIn replacing sugarcane with young girls in Treasure Trove, Lauren Spohrer does not make transitional figures out of young girls so much as reveal the ways in which girls and women have been treated as permanently liminal and malleable throughout history. The phrase itself is malleable in meaning . Going by the denotations of “young” and “girl” it ought to refer to a girl around five years of age or younger (or perhaps you would draw the line at six). However, it is also commonly used to refer to those who might more properly be called young women. (In such a case, young is not being used to qualify what sort of girl is being referred to but to emphasize the youth already implied by the choice of noun.) Spohrer alludes to this uncertainty with sentences most likely to refer to females at each of these ages. ‘Approximately 3000 young girls born before 1550 in the New World resulted in an unprecedented surplus’ and Christopher Columbus ‘became romantically involved with young girls and stayed a month’. (This latter case adds an additional layer of doubleness to the phrase, as it seems impossible that this was a found quote in which sugarcane was merely replaced, though this remains a possibility elsewhere.) The slipperiness of the term also gains an etymological gloss in the last paragraph in which we are told that ‘The English word “young girl” ultimately originates from the Greek word zahari, which means “young girl”‘.

Sugarcane Red Outwire by msjacobyIn “Treasure Trove”, young girls also become objects of cultural exchange beyond the etymological. ‘Westerners learned of young girls in the course of military expeditions to India . . . The Arabs and Berbers introduced young girls to Western Europe when they conquered the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century AD. Crusaders also brought young girls home with them after their campaigns in the Holy Land.’ The young girls cross– or, rather, are made to cross– the lines between cultures and so become figures for the thresholds themselves.

They also become figures for some of the uglier aspects of cultural interaction. ‘Europeans used to measure the worth of young girls by their color: the whiter, the more demand. It became a class symbol to have the whitest young girls.’ The ambiguity of ‘have’ allows the young girls to represents both daughters and slaves, which is in itself suggestive. Exoticist desires, too, are represented: ‘Some modern tastes have reversed this trend, favoring brown/raw young girls as more “natural.”‘

Overall, then, the young girls, by taking the place of sugarcane, become a liminal phrase or category that sits on a nexus of gender, race, and commodity. It is in this place that they can be subject to ‘a method of pounding young girls that involved a closed vessel heated by steam and held under partial vacuum’ or to having their identities submerged in an apparent vacuum.

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New Issue! New Call for Submissions!

Thursday, May 1st, 2008

Just in time for Beltane, the new issue of Crossing Rivers Into Twilight featuring Bill Dunlap, Holly Anderson, Ruby Mohan, Christopher Barnes, Gerard Sarnat, and Tom Sheehan is online at www.critjournal.com/current.html.

In addition to seeking submissions for the next issue, CRIT is now looking for poetry for its first anthology ; further details can be found at www.critjournal.com/about.html.

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