pi & anne

There is no art without play. Why do we even think in categories of this or that, as if art is either serious or playful? It is an unnecessary separation which creates tension and possible judgement. Art is human, and I believe without play nothing serious could ever be created, play is part of creativity and therefore art. And pieces of art sometimes aim to show that playfulness or just have it hidden in their layers and processes of creation. And it is nevertheless, always, included and present.

Concrete poetry is rather visual, although it works with words and that in itself is already bridging the gap between the written word and the so called fine arts. It sculpts. In this way, it uses what poets have been doing all along in Western languages, grouping, line breaks and empty space, but in a way that leans towards visual arts. Why do I talk about this?

A haiku of mine has been included in a review in the latest Modern Haiku issue, Summer 2024 (as it is included in the anthology ‘Sea Change‘ from the editors of whiptail: journal of the single-line Kat Lehmann and Robin Smith).

Two things about that. I’m proud of being in this anthology, it covers a broad spectrum of poems showcasing impressive voices and of what is possible to do in one line.

Why I talk about ‘bridging’ is I believe (as in fine art) abstractions do not result in less meaning of a poem. Haiku use images, juxtaposition, space and the reader to fill it (and more). In fine arts, abstractions use shapes, techniques, colours and materials to provoke emotion, association and by this connection. Mind that I have not studied arts. I have a hands-on approach and I don’t use the right nomenclature maybe.

An abstract painting leaves something out, deliberately, and the one who looks at the painting just gets a lot of significant clues that work together towards ‘meaning’. And sometimes meaning develops out of ‘being touched deeply, not knowing why’. By arranging images and also using abstraction methods (and there are other abstraction options than using an abstract word) you create by ‘painting the poem’. You can ‘paint a haiku’. What is also true: not every poem is for everyone. No piece of art will talk to everyone. Does this mean it is not good?

I’ll leave that up to you to decide.

The second thing I feel the need to add. We are back to the topic of objectivity and subjectivity in haiku. What haiku definitely are is personal. No matter how objective a poet aims to write it: they add their perspective by choice of what they write about and by choice of which images get juxtaposed and by choice of phrasing and words (there are so many synonyms, and poets seek — and they should — just the right ones which underline what they want to express). We write about what we can write about and find the universal in the personal, and then connect by empathising. This is also possible the other way round,  to find the personal in the universal. That said, meaning is not the same for every reader, and does not emerge in the same way for everyone.

Let me show you.

magnolias
dripping
even
after

a
day

a
day

whiptail, issue 7: shape-shifting | SEA CHANGE: An Anthology of Single-Line Poems

Here is my haiku in question. I believe this one of mine is very serious. The heaviness of falling from one day into the next, or one day to be the same as the next and the one before, the inevitability of it happening, to lose the connection to existing for such a length of time (because what else do magnolia stand for, these amazing, old, unchanged plants). How something extraordinary happens: rain drips from the magnolias. Or is it the magnolias themselves that are dripping? Or is it a day? Or do the days drip like rain from the magnolias? All of that. I tried to paint with the images. I have used a kind of abstract word, ‘day’. Because you cannot touch it. But you can watch it pass. I haven’t only tried to paint with the images, I have painted them on paper, deliberately, and with the support of the editors in exactly this way. I have played with them, going from one line to a vertical to centred positioning.

Why did I do that? Because a poem deserves to be played with and listened to, and if a change of placement will enhance its power and transport it better, I will do that. And I will smile and dance internally like a child. Seriously. And still it makes me utterly happy. And yes, it is something very personal I have tried to find the words for, and I believe people can find themselves in it, too.

I believe this anthology shows what is possible with haiku and in this it pushes the fences (who has put them there?) and also encourages poets to be courageous in exploring haiku in English. Haiku can have many shapes! Foremost it honours voice and dedication to each single (line) haiku’s might.