When you've known someone for almost a decade, you can rarely shock them. The other night, as we were getting ready for bed and Game of Thrones, J rolling a joint, me moving the cats out of the way that are always perturbed at giving up prime spots, he joked about taking his art seriously (the rolling technique) and I laughed loudly and said I never took anything, least of all art, seriously. This seemed to surprise him, which got me thinking about how artists (writers, what have you) should never take things too seriously, since seriousness seems the antithesis of art. And truly, it didn't occur to me til I said it out loud in that conversation that you CAN'T take yourself too seriously, otherwise it will make you want to cry. Or quit. Or die.
I think maybe there was a time of taking poetry too seriously. Not necessarily the game of it, which was writing, so of course it should bring joy, but the rules of the game of it. The things you are supposed to do or very much not supposed to do as you conduct yourself in the world as a writer. This led to much angst and much vitriol leveled at things that seemed unfair or unjust or just wonky in the publishing world. It played out in real-life conversations with writers in bars or over dinner, on social media, on this very spot you sit. And even the actual writing is perhaps dangerous to take too seriously. It cuts you off from a sense of WTF and WHY NOT? Some of the best writing I've done were projects, like the James Franco pieces more than a decade ago, where I gave my self permission to not care. To not look so heavily with an eye toward making "ART" and yet, they were perhaps some of the truest, most artful writing I've done.
My journey the last few years, as we weathered covid and my own supreme job dissatisfaction. As people's attention wandered to new things, new platforms, new obsessions, at times poetry in particular (far moreso than art) felt like a losing game. I even found myself unable to read anything BESIDES poetry, which I had to with a box full of submissions. Anything longer or more in-depth made me feel like I couldn't breathe sometimes. This is in some ways still true, though I am enjoying audio books, mostly non-fiction in a memoirish-vein. So I get it, but it also sucks that when you feel like your particular genre is the bottom rung in popularity and are trying to pull even those few dedicated readers your way.
With art, maybe it's a little better in terms of engagement, but art thrives in play. This week, I've been fiddling a bit more with the robots to help create collages and I am liking the results overall. I'll be sharing these over on Instagram in the coming days and the best part about them is the sense of play and experimentation. There is some serious work in manipulating images and thinking about design, but sometimes you get the weirdest shit from AI generators (see above) that is gloriously lovely and terrifying all at once. Which is maybe all we can expect from art or poetry. As for the rules, we can take them or leave them. Perhaps seriousness comes in just keeping at it.
