A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Wednesday, January 05, 2011

's a critic

Hm, I'd call those artists Modernist
before I'd call them "Modern."

Modern, after all, just keeps on:
and will keep on.
For as long as we people
keep on.

Whereas Modernist - is close to being over.
Modernism - is pretty much done, except
as something that has been done. Something that can be
classified (as such),
looked at,
praised drily,
put into context. Completed Art
is trivia, to any good, progressive, well-indoctrinated Modernist.
It is good for one thing only: to "build upon"

Landfill, in short.

Ostensibly, to build something higher up on.

Which they don't look like having much luck doing! Do
they? When they don't,

which is almost always,

it's because as something to do - Modernism is done.

It's already been done.

And that is very serious, to a Modernist: "Having been done"
is a cardinal sin,
a capital crime,
a hanging offense.
Modernism has blazed its trails
and then sealed them: a sign posted,
"Keep off, this path already traveled." "What are you, unoriginal?"

And so
has Modernism exhausted its avenues, and disappear'd up its own Post-

(-erior),

and good riddance to it.
Modernism was a mistake in the first place.
It was a mistake, to elevate theory
(to elevate novelty of theoretical conception no less!)
to a place above art. To say that art's purpose was

to push an envelope with something
new!
Rather than to fill it, with something
good

Novelty has no taste,
whatsoever - except that sweet tooth
for whatever it hasn't tried.

What has Novelty done for art?
Where has Novelty gotten art?
Novelty has eaten its future to shit on its past.

Now, I say: let's go raid the landfills. Dig
all those discarded masterpieces. Some of them were
pretty
damn
pretty
to look at.

Let's say: maybe
paths were blazed to be followed.
Not to be ruled out as off-limits to all,
artists who wish never to be branded: "follower"
(whether or not they have a place to take us!)

Let's say: maybe
art is not for dilettantes
who don't know how to call a thing good,
unless it can be proven to be Novel.

Let's say: maybe
Novelty can go find some new way to go fuck itself.

Novelty has run out
of ways to fuck art.

2 comments:

Jen said...

Well, I sure hope it has. We'll see.
Great essay.

Edana said...

This is definitely my favorite poem. I'm happy to see it here. :D