Claes Oldenberg's "I am for an art...." is at times masterful in its presentation, making incredible metaphors and painting very vivid and very cool images in my mind as I read it. But this is one of those things that seems to make its point and gets it across to its audience but then beats us over the head with it to the point where I don't want to read about it anymore.
It seems to me that Oldenberg is open to any sort of art and has a somewhat fuck you attitude towards conventional society, and in many ways seems to be in an underlying tone, asking or rather telling us what the meaning of life and art is to us.
Lines like: "I am for an art that embroils itself with the everyday crap & still comes out on top.", has a powerful confidence about it that breaking out and being unconventional and making yourself unique from society is the thing to do. I like it, and I can connect to that.
Others like: I am for art that is put on and taken off, like pants, which develops holes, like socks, which is eaten, like a piece of pie, or abandoned with great contempt, like a piece of shit.", that right there is so multi-layered and so thought provoking. From pants that develop holes, like socks, which is eaten like a piece of pie or abandoned with great contempt like a piece of shit. That is just brilliant. That is deeply developed and thought provoking work that starts at one end, delves deep and just smacks you right in the face. That is probably my favorite line in the poem. It has this uncanny, masterful attitude that grabs the listener, ties them down to a chair and really gets in their heads. A really powerful usage of words.
This line right here: "I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky. ", is one of the lines in the poem that is visually stimulating. I can just see smoke rising from a chimney and seeing it dissipate into the sky as it comes out. These three lines for me are powerful, thought provoking and visually powerful all in one.
But then there are lines that are so downright random, and confusing that it brings this piece as a whole down from what it could have been.
Lines like: "I am for the art of sailing on Sunday, and the art of red and white gasoline pump.", just make me scratch my head and wonder what Oldenberg is trying to say.
The one right below it, like this line: "I am for the art of bright blue factory columns and blinking biscuit signs.", is another example of just being random and leaving the reader of the poem feel cold and empty because these lines begin to not make sense after a while.
This one takes the cake though: "I am for Kool-art, 7-UP art, Pepsi-art, Sunshine art, 39 cents art, 15 cents art, Vatronol Art, Dro-bomb art, Vam art, Menthol art, L & M art Ex-lax art, Venida art, Heaven Hill art, Pamryl art, San-o-med art, Rx art, 9.99 art, Now art, New ar, How art, Fire sale art, Last Chance art, Only art, Diamond art, Tomorrow art, Franks art, Ducks art, Meat-o-rama art.", that's when I just tossed my hands up in the air and gave up. This unique style that was once interesting is beginning to get tedious at this point. Oldenberg seems to get really self indulgent with his work by this point by writing anything, absolutely anything that comes to mind. Oldenberg took a good thing, worked with it and then ran it into the ground. It's just way too much by this point.
I really liked this style of writing when it did work though. When each line sort of took you on a mini journey in its own right. It was like something I hadn't really seen before. It felt original, it felt fresh. But there was just no filter on Oldenberg's writing. He just sort of kept going and going until he just couldn't write anymore crazy, bizarre, random ideas.
The subjects he was talking about though were just so broad, that it seemed like he was really searching for what life as an artist and life in general, meant to him. I don't know why I keep coming back to that notion over and over again, but it just seems like with the attitude he had while writing this project, with the wide variety of subject matter he discussed, he had to be searching for something. The meaning of life as art is a broad subject, but this is a very broad poem. It seems like to him that a great many things are indeed art, ranging from the art in bloody rabbits to the art of the washing machine.
The statement, "I am for an art" begins each line. Each way of art, or way of life that he discusses, he champions. I believe that some lines have meaning, while others are just pointlessly random. Oldenberg's initially powerful poem turned into an over the top sort of way too "artsy" project to me that just went on for way too long and dragged out what it was trying to do for 10 lines too many.
I figured that this is an ambitious project, and that I should try my hand at. Right my own sort of unique poem.
Here goes:
That which is true, isn't real.
That which is real, isn't true.
Spread eagle, laying under the dark and powerful overcast sky.
Eyes wide, not with fear, not with anger, not with love, but with wonder.
A rain drop falls on the eye.
He blinks twice. The drop begins to trickle slowly down a face.
Lighting streaks across the sky followed immediately by a clap of thunder.
Something compels him, he stands slowly.
He stands with arms by his side.
He stares at the sky, a sky that gets darker as each second passes.
There is something strange about the air as it blows gently, caressing his naked body.
He stands admiring the beauty around him.
He has escaped to a place where he has found hope.
Away from a world that did nothing but hold him back.
It begins to rain as he steps forward.
Sadness and envy have left his body.
There is peace in his heart.
There is love all around him.
He has found the one place he has always needed.
He had lost trust, but has gained it back through the strength of those important to him.
Before he was numb, now he is back.
Now he is alive.
What they gave him, saved him.
What he gained is what is most important.
Step after step.
Breath after breath.
Everything becomes clearer and clearer.
The rain stops, the sun shines through the clouds.
He stops, looking towards the sun.
He smiles as the clouds fade and he is emitted in light.
Whether or not there is fate
Whether or not there is God
He will always have what matters to him
And he will do all he can to keep that until the day he draws his last breath.
A sense of connection, a sense of peace is all he wants.
He blinks twice.
It is back.
(Photo courtesy of Zach Strum)
No comments:
Post a Comment