23/March/2005 08:21 - Chicago

A couple weeks ago, an individual on one of the email lists I frequent said something like:

'I am a poet, and believe true poetry comes from the soul'.

This made me wonder about a few things...

What is a poet?

What is 'true poetry', and how can it be distinguished from poetry that is 'not true'?

What is 'the soul', and does everybody have one?

If a person doesn't have a soul, but they want to write poetry, can they, or will trying only result in the production of drivel, nonsense, or some other form of pointless verbiage?

No, I'm not trying to be a wise-ass, here... well... maybe just a little teensy bit of a wise ass, but just for flavouring.

I've written a lot of articles/papers about this stuff over the years... probably over 1,000 pages... most relating to easel painting and the visual arts. All of it is available for perusal in the 'Papers' section on my website -> http://www.robertwittig.com/

My 'best guess', is that 'being a poet' is pretty much like being a painter, writer of fiction, dancer, musician, composer, sculptor or practitioner in any field of the arts, and requires to some undefined degree:

1) 'The Knack'... the natural talent to excel, that makes some people excellent musicians, other people excellent mathematicians, and some people natural automobile mechanics.

2) 'The Skillset'... which is acquired by practice and study only. Having the knack to be a great surgeon does not tell you where to cut, and having the knack to be a great painter does not tell you where to place the paint. Study and practice will, though, over time.

3) 'The Desire'... which is a short way of saying the overwhelming desire to say something. No... not overwhelming desire... imperative need... to say something. I am guessing that this might be what is meant, by "comes from the soul", in the sentence that started me thinking.

In my own life I see a few things that relate to this:

When I was in my 20's, I took up painting, but nothing much came of it at that time. I had the 'knack', but I did not have the skillset, and I was too caught up in goofiness to focus myself, and acquire the skillset. Also, I had what I now believe to be, was a 'pseudo-desire' to be an 'artist'... to impress my friends, to raise my status... bullshit like that.

What I didn't have, was sufficient life experience, so that I might be capable of actually making any sort of solid observation on the human condition... I was simply too immature.

By the time I was in my mid-40's, I had lived long enough to have something solid to say on the human condition, but I was caught up in owning a business, being husband and father, paying my bills, etc., etc.

Then I had a stroke, and my datebook was wiped absolutely clean, and I found myself on permanent disability.

The business I had started, and was earning my living at, was a furniture finishing and woodworking business... I had, in fact, taken the knack for painting I had felt 20 years before, and pursued it in the 'applied arts', where 'The skillset' was permitted to grow, and grow, and grow, but where I was forever doing another person's bidding... painting their furniture, the way they wanted it painted, which most of the time was clear or coloured lacquer, maybe a little gold leaf, and occasionally, a chance to produce a nice faux finish... but always, my work was subject to another person's whim.

A couple years or so after the stroke, when I had reassembled myself enough to think somewhat clearly, I went down into my basement, where my tools had been moved after my business had been sold off, and started painting on pieces of scrap wood and other stuff, like the tops of old coffee tables, nightstands, etc.

This time, though, what I painted was what I wanted to paint.

After a while, people began buying what I was painting, and then some people asked me to make paintings specifically for them... they were going to tell me what to paint, and I was going to do as I was told, and then if they liked the results... if I was a good and obedient little 'paint monkey'... I would get paid... same deal I had, running my furniture finishing business.

I said... 'Thanks, but no thanks'.

I would guess that this is the difference between 'true poetry' (or painting), and 'not true' poetry... that if you are doing another person's bidding, the work is 'not true'. It may be a technical masterpiece, but it is saying what another person wants said.

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