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The wish for monolithic
culture, chiefly perpetrated by global capitalism,
is at best misguided, and at worst completely toxic.
To modify Rimbauds famous axiom, jest
un autre, we are not we, the glue posited
by the collective pronoun no longer binds. As Harold
Bloom stated in his controversial introduction to
the Best of the Best American Poetry, culturally
we are in Thermopylae, sentient in a more fractured
historical moment than has been seen since the Peloponnesian
War. While Bloom intended this analogy despairingly,
we see it positively, as an assurance that no master
narrative will subsume the particularity of varied,
individual perspectives; as consolation that no one
school of aesthetic philosophy will trump any other;
as security that no arbitrary confine will be taken
to have the materiality of an actual wall.
In this issue of Drunken Boat, weve attempted
to embody this polyphony by bringing together a collection
of voices and visions that may never before have inhabited
the same space. To bring your attention to just three
of the many extraordinary artists whove contributed,
we point you to David
Daniels, Tai Ford
and Naomi Maruta.
The spawn of George Herbert and Lenny Bruce perhaps,
Daniels, in his profusion of concrete poems, displays
an utterly unique coherence of vision. His collected
works, bound and self-published under the title The
Gates of Paradise, is a wild ride through the
imagination and possibly the most important, least
recognized work weve ever come across. Tai Fords
poetry, for which weve included audio, is harrowing,
kinetic and emotionally ample, exploding the myth
that perfunctorily segregates the work of performance
poetry from the written lyric. Her work skillfully
deploys rhyme and varied meter to draw the reader/listener
in, perhaps auguring, in all its rawness, the evolution
of classicism. Finally, Naomi Marutas photographs
of Japanese cityscapes, display the tender eye of
someone who is both participant in and voyeur of urban
surfaces. Whether her work is situated in a casino
or on a halogen-lit highway, the photographs have
an enigmatic sheen that fulfills Bertolt Brechts
dictum that art make the familiar strange.
If poetry, in its larger sense, can be said to be
any act born of precise observation and transformed
into metaphoric representation, then thriving around
us, in the guise of science or upon chipped
brick city walls, an uncanonical poetry
blooms, vital precisely because its home is outside
the status quo. This ethnopoetry, if you will,
provides us a vision of how we may be able to integrate
the arts into quotidian existence. Because we are
living in an exceedingly materialistic moment, one
in which art is mass-produced for the least common
denominator and Chaucers dictum that story should
have equal measures sentence (instruction)
and solace (delight) has been skewed greatly
in favor of the latter (with delight resembling nothing
so much as distraction), we are compelled to look
for works of import in non-traditional places. Such
places, which are easy to exoticize and harder yet
to anthologize, provide a kind of basin where the
sources for generative energy can be renewed and reintegrated
into the larger populace.
However, when we first began preparing this issue
we were a little hesitant to use the term ethnopoetics,
because the term seemed to have a subliminal connotation
of being somehow more, or less, or other, than poetics
itself. Our intention was to enlarge the scope of
what an ethnopoetics could be by showing that cultures
are permeable enough that to set off work as exclusively
representative of one particular tribe is a near impossible
task. In fact, to ferret out the meaning of ethnopoetics
from its etymological roots, the prefix comes from
the Ancient Greek, ethnos, or people, and poetry
itself comes from the Greek, poeisis, or to
create. Literally then, and in a way we hope this
issue demonstrates, ethnopoetics is not separatist,
not reflective of some narrow stratum of non-Western
poetry, but rather is a maker, a joiner, of people.
As our alternate map
navigational system demonstrates, in this installment
of Drunken Boat weve brought together artists
from every corner of the world. This issue is for
all intents and purposes a double-issue due to the
sheer volume of contributions, and so we encourage
you to bookmark the page to return to it. Along with
organizations like the Endangered Language Fund http://sapir.ling.yale.edu/~elf/,
the Order
of the Wandering Peace Poets and Ubuweb http://www.ubu.com,
we are laboring to recover a collective spirit without
sacrificing any nuances of individuality. However
idealistic, we support the use of technologyin
an effort parallel yet counter to the spread of capital
along international channelsto reassert the
primal and communal importance of making.
-Editors, Drunken Boat
Summer/Fall 2001 |
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all works on Drunken Boat are the
sole property of the artists and may not be reproduced without permission
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