Background: I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page, but it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
Door-to-Door Salesmen
The creators, looking to deceive.
Intellectual principles all centered on,
A devotion to the idea.
Peddled to the curious.
People bought complex, scientific theories.
This was decidedly odd.
Odd or ridiculous.
Unorthodox as much as sarcastic.
Hilariously hilarious.
Orchestrated ideas with humor.
It really is hilarious.
It might even be great.
It is strange to think,
But that's what happened.
Harmless Except To Himself
You talk literature with them.
Actually English.
You talk about anything?
He didn't talk much.
A very quiet, ominous language.
It wasn't literary,
But very intelligent, of course.
What were they like?
Sometimes, usually a psychoanalyst.
Concentrated on one person.
You get the idea?
Then next time,
It would be somebody else.
One thing was funny.
He didn't like Ireland.
It was a long story, I remember.
And I didn't notice the manuscript.
So strange.
The pauses taught silence.
He taught in silence.
This woman stood up and said,
This is terrible.
I wouldn't call that a great success.
But I guess it was successful.
The Way It Functions
This is a common thing.
People who don't believe.
When I believe.
Who really believes?
People are hostile.
Like Wal-Mart before they come in.
It's not planned cynicism.
But cynicism is not.
If you think it's a good thing,
To make people cynical,
What are you going to do?
There are two ways of looking at that.
Which never changes.
A laissez-faire state.
Sort of anti-ideology.
All the stuff gets tossed away.
Things, stuff,
And the red stuff.
That stuff has very little place.
You rarely hear about it.
Just a cynical maneuver?
I think so.
The magnetic power has exerted itself.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Random, Abstract Poetry - 1/25/09
Background: I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page, but it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
An Opportunity To Understand Something
You figure out where because,
I don't feel whatever happened,
Cannot change.
People called me, and then
They tell me to go.
That was pretty wild.
We went out to walk.
A guy says, "Where are you?"
"Well, I'm here."
He says, "No, you're not here."
"I was here."
And the guy's like, "No, you're not here."
And I remember you were.
I was devastated.
But then I realized.
I'm here.
People tell me to go back.
I can go back.
If I tell, do they know,
They are supposed to go?
They would have to go,
Right?
I know I can always go.
That moment, I realized that.
[Laughs.]
A Hollowed Out Onion
One then another.
Down to three.
Where the woods begin,
The lesser one remains.
Heavy weather turned to rain.
Clouds which loom.
A picturesque backdrop.
That evening,
Stars dangled above.
Mushrooms in fleece and wool socks.
Behind a velvet curtain,
The composer conducted.
A thick sonata.
An interwoven symphony.
False notes slipped.
The failed attempt to engage.
The influence of the masks then spoke:
Beyond science and demolition.
What was monolithic?
To have never loved another?
Deep in the morning, skeptically observe,
That which wouldn't exist.
On the sunny afternoon, our final day.
Dead, emptied, systematically wrecked.
Humor must fail.
The end, in the face of realities.
The audience, with thrilling vigor,
Showed a complex-minded capacity to laugh.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
An Opportunity To Understand Something
You figure out where because,
I don't feel whatever happened,
Cannot change.
People called me, and then
They tell me to go.
That was pretty wild.
We went out to walk.
A guy says, "Where are you?"
"Well, I'm here."
He says, "No, you're not here."
"I was here."
And the guy's like, "No, you're not here."
And I remember you were.
I was devastated.
But then I realized.
I'm here.
People tell me to go back.
I can go back.
If I tell, do they know,
They are supposed to go?
They would have to go,
Right?
I know I can always go.
That moment, I realized that.
[Laughs.]
A Hollowed Out Onion
One then another.
Down to three.
Where the woods begin,
The lesser one remains.
Heavy weather turned to rain.
Clouds which loom.
A picturesque backdrop.
That evening,
Stars dangled above.
Mushrooms in fleece and wool socks.
Behind a velvet curtain,
The composer conducted.
A thick sonata.
An interwoven symphony.
False notes slipped.
The failed attempt to engage.
The influence of the masks then spoke:
Beyond science and demolition.
What was monolithic?
To have never loved another?
Deep in the morning, skeptically observe,
That which wouldn't exist.
On the sunny afternoon, our final day.
Dead, emptied, systematically wrecked.
Humor must fail.
The end, in the face of realities.
The audience, with thrilling vigor,
Showed a complex-minded capacity to laugh.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Random, Abstract Poetry - 1/18/2009
Background: I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page, but it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
Edges Negotiated
Disintegration is necessary,
In order to create new ones.
Lines don't intersect like this.
That's true.
They break down.
Things break down.
Give the positive,
To make the negative.
I want the opposite of break down.
My approach uses unpredictable images.
Time can be condensed.
Construction is destruction.
A consequence of both.
Nature, in a way proactive.
It's a quicker tempo.
More extreme.
I don't really have any control over that.
A very complicated transparency,
Set in motion.
Together Again
There's this whole thing about recognizing.
An agenda of the government.
They recognize these people.
Then they filter whoever.
Our government.
What do you take from this?
People don't realize,
What appears to be.
Ends up being really intense.
Some sort of connection.
Seen around the world.
They break apart,
Then come back.
Or vice versa.
Painful To Be Purple
Free falling into a pit of snakes.
Coming unhinged,
Is more precise.
Time, a conventional structure.
More articulation.
Waiting for the beat.
Infused and broken down.
A song called.
Can you see?
The final song to everyone.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
Edges Negotiated
Disintegration is necessary,
In order to create new ones.
Lines don't intersect like this.
That's true.
They break down.
Things break down.
Give the positive,
To make the negative.
I want the opposite of break down.
My approach uses unpredictable images.
Time can be condensed.
Construction is destruction.
A consequence of both.
Nature, in a way proactive.
It's a quicker tempo.
More extreme.
I don't really have any control over that.
A very complicated transparency,
Set in motion.
Together Again
There's this whole thing about recognizing.
An agenda of the government.
They recognize these people.
Then they filter whoever.
Our government.
What do you take from this?
People don't realize,
What appears to be.
Ends up being really intense.
Some sort of connection.
Seen around the world.
They break apart,
Then come back.
Or vice versa.
Painful To Be Purple
Free falling into a pit of snakes.
Coming unhinged,
Is more precise.
Time, a conventional structure.
More articulation.
Waiting for the beat.
Infused and broken down.
A song called.
Can you see?
The final song to everyone.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Random, Abstract Poetry - 1/11/09
Background: I take the Brooklyn Rail newspaper and underline words and phases in the articles that catch my attention. Then circle a word or phrase for the title. It's more of a subtractive process, taking a page of words and editing down to a poem or maybe several. It's kind of backwards from the traditional process of adding words to a blank page, but it works for me. The pieces of newspaper with these random abstract poems get used as collage material in my artwork. I create the artwork. My darker, semi-schizophrenic alter ego creates the poetry.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
In A New Land
Our dialog about life and myth.
The intimate experience with expectations.
Can you talk about that?
It was two years ago.
Seems like yesterday.
I got on the wrong plane.
Landed in Africa.
Then, got run over by a car.
Very naive.
I had this idea about living.
Living, I thought.
A really interesting phenomenon.
All these people living,
All over.
From different worlds.
The mixture is most wonderful.
It takes time to realize.
I was living.
It's all beautiful.
It's About Dirt
Coming to a new place.
Often in a dream.
I realized only recently.
Connected personally from before.
Seeking, and could not find it.
Because, they didn't want to.
That sense of alienation.
Isolation.
A thought.
What had happened?
People without their feet.
Wars fought over land.
It's religion,
Or it's oil.
If you really look,
At what defines.
Notions Of The Cosmos
Obsessed with the stones.
The way they look.
Not in any way.
I feel a tremendous attraction.
They tie themselves into a puzzle.
A structure to reveal.
Like reading patterns.
Kind of abstract.
It struck me,
Those stones.
The planets?
We see these ancient forms.
The stones might hypothesize.
Which neither you nor I,
Care for.
I think some things are happening.
This kind of deformation.
Other levels of reality.
The concept of taking something that already exists and turning it into something new was inspired by a Richard Prince exhibition I visited at the Guggenheim - 2008. His re-photography, nurse paintings, and deKooning woman, collage paintings were my favorites.
Examples: You can see actual articles from the Brooklyn Rail with the poetry on my website at - www.ErikVP.com/poetry
In A New Land
Our dialog about life and myth.
The intimate experience with expectations.
Can you talk about that?
It was two years ago.
Seems like yesterday.
I got on the wrong plane.
Landed in Africa.
Then, got run over by a car.
Very naive.
I had this idea about living.
Living, I thought.
A really interesting phenomenon.
All these people living,
All over.
From different worlds.
The mixture is most wonderful.
It takes time to realize.
I was living.
It's all beautiful.
It's About Dirt
Coming to a new place.
Often in a dream.
I realized only recently.
Connected personally from before.
Seeking, and could not find it.
Because, they didn't want to.
That sense of alienation.
Isolation.
A thought.
What had happened?
People without their feet.
Wars fought over land.
It's religion,
Or it's oil.
If you really look,
At what defines.
Notions Of The Cosmos
Obsessed with the stones.
The way they look.
Not in any way.
I feel a tremendous attraction.
They tie themselves into a puzzle.
A structure to reveal.
Like reading patterns.
Kind of abstract.
It struck me,
Those stones.
The planets?
We see these ancient forms.
The stones might hypothesize.
Which neither you nor I,
Care for.
I think some things are happening.
This kind of deformation.
Other levels of reality.
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