At our Narratives meeting last night, we workshopped three poems by different members of the group, and so many interesting views and viewpoints were brought up that continued in my mind well past adjournment.
In studying not only poetry but all forms of literature, as well as (and maybe even more relative to) visual arts, it is urged to interpret as a reader/viewer. Obviously, this is a good thing (sorry Martha, you lost your rights to this phrase!). No interpretation then, is incorrect. No wrong answers. It is whatever you feel or want it to be. This theory also seems to apply more and more to more and more of daily living as well. Is this just an expansion of the “it’s all about me” generation? Must everything be construed and evaluated as it applies to “me” rather than appreciation of the art and its creator first and foremost? Or even, only?
But my concern here is the arts. Somehow, I still feel my first priority is to understand what the artist or writer is saying. What does he mean, what did HE feel, what does he want us to feel—if he cares at all. I suppose it depends first on whether the piece has been constructed by the soul or the mind, and what was its purpose or goal. Who was he trying to please or engage, who was his audience, or was it a reflection of his thoughts that he intended to reveal just to help others understand him, please the readers, or a manner of getting it out of his head to bring him relief of sorts.
Does audience approval, even if for totally different reasons, bring satisfaction to its creator always? In the past, I know I have wanted to scream “that’s not what I meant, you fool!” and while it is not only rude to do so, is it as well a misinterpretation of another nature, one whereby what is taken as either ignorance or criticism of clarification skill is rather a compliment on ability to evoke thoughts and personal relativity and appreciation?
One poem brought tears within the room. It touched emotions in its readers. But who were they crying for; the author’s feelings or their own, and does it even matter?
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Susan,
I think that either way works for the author seeking advice. That is, you can critique by going at the “response” or by working the tradition’s criteria and expectations and promises. I like the latter because the former tends to gratify the author and gives them a false sense of security.
How do we make something better, wiser, more intense, more compact, more sizzling? That’s what I like to think about. I think that wrong approaches are ineffective ones. If the writer likes something they shouldn’t have it workshopped.
I thought yesterday’s show was really great. People experienced the light and the dark.
You could think of their reactions as “market research” of some kind. Interesting reactions to your work. But in the end, I like your perspective. What about the craft? What was the author trying to do? How effective was the effort? What would improve it?
I think both of you are aiming focus on the literary value of the work, and here, I totally agree that Workshopping is ideal for this effort–the art of critique, as I blogged on earlier (gee, I sure wish there were a better work than “blogged”, it hurts my fragile creative mind. I may do more postings on this, because the emotional impact, the reader input, is a necessary element for most artists, but some or some pieces are held apart.
Steve (ersinghaus), I think that, while I would never withhold a piece from a workshop setting because I felt it was too good or perfect for mere mortals (tongue in cheek here) because audience input can always be discounted if disagreed with, I would withhold rather on the basis of its intimacy. A few I have written lately for example I would not really, at least at this time, be willing to have others (except perhaps someone I really trusted) to comment upon because of the expression of emotion.
This is why I felt that particular piece brought up at the meeting was presented with such bravery; an openness that exceeded even the emotion of the poem.