A - Z Challenge: WORDS FROM WRITERS

Today we're just going to appreciate some beautiful words, written in Spanish.  I'm going to cheat a little bit, though:  the author of these words is Pablo Neruda, who is from Chile.  So he's not Spanish.  But I wanted to share these verses because they're some of my favorite ever written, in any language.  Really this poem doesn't have anything to do with Spain, except that I read it for the first time here.  Anyway, I think it's important, too, to learn to appreciate works in other languages :)  (I'll also be practicing my translation skills!)

Excerpt from Poema 20 by Pablo Neruda (Spanish)

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.

Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.

Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.

Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro.  Será de otro.  Como antes de mis besos.

Su voz, su cuerpo claro.  Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.

Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,

Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,

y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

Excerpt from Poema 20 by Pablo Neruda (English)

The same night whitening the same trees.

We, the ones of then, are not the same.

I no longer love her, it's true, but how much I loved her.

My voice searched for the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's.  She will be another's.  Like before my kisses.

Her voice, her bright body.  Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, it's true, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, and forgetting is so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms.

My soul is not content having lost her.

Even though this is the last pain she'll cause me,

And these are the last verses I'll write her.

Unfortunately, English doesn't do the poem justice.  It's gorgeous in Spanish :)

Arte como arma / Art as a Weapon

Ladies and gents, I give you my new catchphrase:  "arte como arma," or in English, "art as a weapon".  If you're wondering why it's in Spanish, it's because I first read it in Spanish.  No, unfortunately I can't take credit for it :(

I'm enrolled in a course at my university called "Seville and the Community."  Essentially, it's a class about social and political issues in Spain:  homelessness, poverty, poor education, etc.  This week I gave a fifteen-minute oral presentation on "arte como arma," and in the middle of my powerpoint, realized, "Hey, this isn't just for a grade.  I actually have something interesting to say about this."

Before I begin, what exactly do I mean by art?  Well, everything:  painting, sculpture, drawing, carpentry, fashion, music, dance, poetry, prose…

My basic argument:  art is great for recreation, but it can also be used as a weapon against hardship, whether that hardship is poverty, depression, social exclusion, unemployment, etc.  Of course, it isn't going to do away with these issues:

Art is a spiritual expression, an activity that generates joy, entertainment, and knowledge.  A poem, a song, a play, surely cannot change reality or defeat misery, but it can act as a tool through which people can express their experiences, their stories, and aspire to better lives.  This is what's called social art. - La Gaceta [translated from Spanish]

OK, social art.  Basically, it's a way to cope with suffering:  through self expression.  However, I'm not sure if I completely agree with the above quote.  Is it true that art cannot change reality or defeat misery?

I asked this question during my presentation and it generated a little bit of debate.  Most people argued that art itself cannot change reality, but it can inspire people to change reality.

Well, of course.  If people start munching on oil paintings in an attempt to end hunger, then we have a bigger problem than we thought.

I asked for some examples of art that has changed reality.  Unfortunately, we were a little short in this area, so maybe La Gaceta has a point.  But how about Uncle Tom's Cabin, which changed the United States' view on slavery leading up to the Civil War?

Whether art changes reality or not, it's still a way to lessen the pain of hardship:

Art is a solution.  It's a sign of culture, and culture is what gives comfort in the face of the certainty of chaos and the forcefulness of the horrors that have been occurring for a long time.  Culture is an analgesic, not an anesthetic.  Culture is what provides serenity in the face of disaster. - Laura Fleischer, El arte como herramienta de intervención social [translated from Spanish]

So, culture to cope with disaster.  Sounds about right.  We were able to come up with more examples for this, like:

• The Golden Age of Hollywood - The Golden Age of Hollywood began in the late 1920s, around the same time as the Great Depression.  Though people struggled to put bread on the table, they didn't often begrudge a trip to the movies.   The escapist films of the 1930s offered comfort to a society in crisis.
• "A Modest Proposal" - Jonathan Swift's satiric essay deals with poverty and famine in Ireland during the early eighteenth century (the potato famine came later).  He uses grotesque humor to point out society's problems, and if there's any one way to cope with hardship, it's humor.  If you're interested, you can read the whole text here.
• Guernica - Arguably Pablo Picasso's most famous painting, Guernica came as a result of a bombing during the Spanish Civil War.  It was put on display at the 1937 World's Fair, thereby bringing the War international attention.
• Slave culture - Slaves in the Americas used song and dance, usually with African or Native American influences, to help cope with the hardships of slavery and preserve their own cultural identity.

Guernica, by Pablo Picasso

But it's not just that art provides a coping mechanism; rather, there are tangible results, believe it or not. A twelve-year national study showed that underprivileged students who are involved in the arts generally have a higher success rates:  they achieve more after high school graduation, they do more volunteer work, and they participate in politics.

So why did I choose this topic?  And now, it's not because, as a writer, I strongly believe in the power of words (though that's true, too).

It's because of Polígono Sur, the neighborhood in which I teach English.  Essentially, Polígono Sur is a chabolismo, or as we would call it, a slum.  As one of the poorest areas in Sevilla, it has a reputation for crime, a reputation that's only augmented by its large gypsy population.

This fence in Polígono Sur is very close to my English class.

But damn, does Polígono Sur have art!

I'm talking flamenco.  Not touristy flamenco, either, with the main goal being to entertain.  No, this isn't some sort of spectacle.  It's intensely personal, an expression of human emotions through music and dance; yet at the same time, it's communal.  It brings people together, and as long as the flamenco lasts, those people are one cohesive group.  They celebrate together, struggle together, survive together.

It's how they cope with poverty.  With drug abuse.  With the stigma associated with their community and their culture, especially if they're gypsies.  By pouring their emotions into flamenco.

If you're interested in seeing flamenco in Polígono Sur, you can check out this documentary.  Even if you don't know a lick of Spanish, you'll be able to see what I'm talking about within the first ten minutes:

Now to wrap up, I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute.  We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.  And the human race is filled with passion.  And medicine, law, business, engineering…These are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life.  But poetry, beauty, romance, love…These are what we stay alive for. - Dead Poet's Society

What do you think?  Can art be used as a weapon against hardship?  Can art change reality?  Can you think of any examples in which art has changed reality?  How about when culture has helped cope with disaster?

Poetry in Prose

Again I'm deviating from my series of "The Story in History" posts, but I really want to write about poetry, so I'm going to do just that.

Poetry and I have a complicated relationship.  I always appreciate it, but I only sometimes love it.  Most of the time I read a poem, think "That was nice," and never think of it again.  But occasionally, I'll read one that literally leaves me shaking.

My all-time favorite poem is "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Shel Silverstein:

There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins

And there the grass grows soft and white, 

 And there the sun burns crimson bright,

 And there the moon-bird rests from his flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

And so on.  I love this poem because I always associate it with a place from my childhood, which all poetry begs the reader to do:  create her own meaning.  When I read about the place where the sidewalk ends, I'm seven-years-old again, throwing my backpack on the ground and sprinting after my friends to a field beyond a wrought-iron fence.  We've done this so many times that we know exactly where the bent bars are; we squeeze between them, and we're momentarily free from "the place where the smoke blows black / And the dark street winds and bends."

I'm also a huge fan of T.S. Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."  You know, "Let us go then, you and I / When the evening is spread out against the sky."  It's a beautiful, tragic love poem with quite a few lines that just pack a punch.  The one that comes to mind is "Do I dare disturb the universe?"

Gosh, I wish I could write poetry.  Unfortunately, I don't.  Not often, anyway.  About once a year I'll get inspired, but otherwise, I'm a prose kind of gal.  Yet, I have various poems hung up on my walls, not only because I think they're beautiful, but because as a fiction writer, I can learn something from them.  Someone once told me that "All good poetry should tell a story, and all good stories should sound like poetry," and that really hit home.  I'm not saying that writers should fill their work with purple prose.  That's a big no-no.  But beautiful, poetic sentences aren't off limits.  And not all poetic sentences may seem like poetry at a first glance.  After all, if you take one line of poetry, it's not obvious that it's from a poem.  Let's take the above example:

"To cool in the peppermint wind"

That's a poetic phrase, but it's also a phrase that could be put into prose without turning it purple.  "Peppermint wind" is much more poetic--and descriptive--than "wind" or "icy wind" or "refreshing wind."

It was Christmas in Williamsburg, which meant that the carolers were out--fur muffs, top hats, and all.  They stood directly across from Wythe's, which had started to display freshly-dipped caramel apples in the window.  Seven dollars each, and almost worth it.  But I had come for hot cider, so I ducked against the peppermint wind and strolled on until the carols melted away like hard candies on my tongue.

"Peppermint wind" goes along with the holiday feel, and since a lot of the paragraph focuses on sweets, it fits right in.

Do you have a favorite poem or poet?  Favorite line?