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by Joe Ubiles
I put these comments, finally, to the page in the aftermath of a very stressful season (being of a tropical persuasion, I prefer to think of it as the eye of the storm). While it is true that these circumstances are personal, they may have some bearing on the theme at hand. For the writer, the poet, the artist wishes to express personal perceptions creatively with others. To communicate.
And to create art, we must isolate ourselves from the very same people we wish to share it with. [I have a friend, a well known poet undergoing his own share of personal stressful times, he was until a couple of days ago staying here, and of all the troubles I could see, not being able to continue writing at his usual full time self, was the one that hurt the most. And I of course was by choice setting art aside, but never off] This isolation is perhaps a requirement for most if not all creative endeavors, although in many creative souls, the isolation came first, as part of their psyche. And in many others this creative isolation is contrary to their nature. But in the time that one is immersed in the process of creating, something comes out of nothing. We go in empty-handed, and come out with a work (yes, labor, time and a piece of our inner selves) of art, a labor of love. Look what I did! [My friend wrote some poems in the middle of all the madness going on around, the first thing he did, was to show his friends. Poetry never gives up]
It is in the very nature of writing that the concept of ownership becomes the most muddled and troublesome to apply. The writer uses material, (i.e., words) that belong to no one. No one owns language. Not even the speakers of a language, nor the established agencies that determine its proper use, nor the inventive that create new terms. Excepting such terms as have been legally appropriated, and then not even for ever. Even words that have been made up and used in a work of art, wind up being owned by no one. If they are widely used and incorporated into the language, the writer is going to have a hard time claiming ownership of the new term. [My friend mostly writes his work by hand, reams and reams of poetry in hard to read handwriting. Yes he uses a computer sometimes, but not as a personal preference. I have typed some of his work, and when I check the spelling, the computer goes crazy. Every other word is: "not found in the dictionary" And we have to determine, whether it is indeed, misspellt, or should we skip/add to the dictionary as allowed by "poetic license" And when he writes in "Spanglish", we tell the computer to shut up. We have no spelling rules for Spanglish (Yet!)]. That’s in case you were wondering, how does this all tie in.
It is not my intention to go into the legal meanings and ramifications of ownership, nor is it my wish to contend with issues of "copyright" and trademark as it relates to art. But rather to share some of my own perceptions on this odd vocation that has chosen us: Write, we must
We will explore the factors of labor and product in our next: Our Nuyorican Thing.
And some time down the line, perhaps we may even venture an answer to the thematic question of these comments.
[My friend has left on a journey of preparation – yes and some isolation -- as he re-energizes in preparation for the fight of a lifetime. Have no doubt, Poetry never gives up!]
Sam
In the Service of Poetry, Art and Community
[email responses and/or comments to: nuyoricanPC@netscape.net) or (nuyorican@mindspring.com; attn: Sam)