I love that you are thinking about these things. I have spent the day mulling these questions over and feel like I will continue to think about them, which is the mark of a great essay.
I would offer that there is also value in just feeling what a piece makes us feel and not needing to analyze or explain to ourselves why every time. I found poetry in a parking lot on my phone while waiting for a medical appointment for my son during a devastating time in my life. I will never forget how it felt to have my heart split open and finally cry all the tears that had been aching in my chest for so long and how I felt I could finally breathe again. I still don't know why that poem has such a huge effect on me every time I read it--the subject matter is World War II and shoveling snow, not exactly applicable to my situation at that moment lol.
Poetry is such an immensely powerful form, especially shared in groups that have shared similar types of pain. I have been thinking a lot lately about how we sterilize the experience of opening your heart in words by putting it on screens or in journals (though I would never have found poetry without those things so obviously I am not anti-screen or journal!).
It's fascinating to think "Why am I noticing this thing? What is calling to me so strongly from this piece?" I certainly want to start doing that more often. But I also hope we give ourselves space at times to just experience what the poem gives us. In an interview Ocean Vuong once said that what we write is performance art between the writer and the reader. Different readers bring different frameworks to the art so it will never be the same twice. As someone who used to worry about a piece being understood in exactly the right way that I intended it, that gave me a sense of peace to let the reader have their personal experience with my work. I love that idea of the reader and the poet creating a brief moment of art together that can never be recreated. The same reader could read the poem again a different day in a different emotional state and have a different experience with the exact same work. I think it's all fascinating. Thank you for sharing this! Gave me a lot to think about.
I "liked" this because it caught me red-handed. Most days I don’t have taste so much as a pulse—scroll, nod, “sure.” This piece made me realize my “opinions” are basically just things I forgot to turn off.
The bit about curation not being discernment? Ouch. My Apple Music playlists felt that in their bones. And the selfhood turn, “how much of me is actually me?” was one of those quiet gut-punches disguised as philosophy.
So yeah, I liked it. Why? Because it reminded me I should probably pay more attention to why I like anything at all… and also because it made me laugh at myself while doing so.
So true! I didn't start thinking like a writer when all I did was watch and read ... until I realized, I had never asked the "why" either. Now, I always do. You put it in words valuable to everyone, even people who are not artists and writers.
Great idea to include the famous quote: "In the words of Marcus Aurelius, 'The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.' "
I'm going to try to apply this "why" and "how" and see how it goes. I've gotten really lazy in articulating my reasons for liking something, or thinking it is good. This was a needed reminder.
Yes. Exactly. I like most the poem I feel I never read before. I love the painting that shifts the way i see the rest of the world, even if just a little. I love the face that isn’t like every other face. Change is the door that opens outward from the walls. we ask to keep us safe. We need art in all forms that levers us into a taste of shifted relationship with our world. If we don’t like it, we can shift back. But we don’t have to. It’s our choice. That’s why it’s harder to be bored if we’re paying attention.
I really like Tetris because it reminds me of when an earthquake knocked my apartment over and I was buried alive by bricks (Dramitization, may not have happened).
I love that you are thinking about these things. I have spent the day mulling these questions over and feel like I will continue to think about them, which is the mark of a great essay.
I would offer that there is also value in just feeling what a piece makes us feel and not needing to analyze or explain to ourselves why every time. I found poetry in a parking lot on my phone while waiting for a medical appointment for my son during a devastating time in my life. I will never forget how it felt to have my heart split open and finally cry all the tears that had been aching in my chest for so long and how I felt I could finally breathe again. I still don't know why that poem has such a huge effect on me every time I read it--the subject matter is World War II and shoveling snow, not exactly applicable to my situation at that moment lol.
Poetry is such an immensely powerful form, especially shared in groups that have shared similar types of pain. I have been thinking a lot lately about how we sterilize the experience of opening your heart in words by putting it on screens or in journals (though I would never have found poetry without those things so obviously I am not anti-screen or journal!).
It's fascinating to think "Why am I noticing this thing? What is calling to me so strongly from this piece?" I certainly want to start doing that more often. But I also hope we give ourselves space at times to just experience what the poem gives us. In an interview Ocean Vuong once said that what we write is performance art between the writer and the reader. Different readers bring different frameworks to the art so it will never be the same twice. As someone who used to worry about a piece being understood in exactly the right way that I intended it, that gave me a sense of peace to let the reader have their personal experience with my work. I love that idea of the reader and the poet creating a brief moment of art together that can never be recreated. The same reader could read the poem again a different day in a different emotional state and have a different experience with the exact same work. I think it's all fascinating. Thank you for sharing this! Gave me a lot to think about.
I "liked" this because it caught me red-handed. Most days I don’t have taste so much as a pulse—scroll, nod, “sure.” This piece made me realize my “opinions” are basically just things I forgot to turn off.
The bit about curation not being discernment? Ouch. My Apple Music playlists felt that in their bones. And the selfhood turn, “how much of me is actually me?” was one of those quiet gut-punches disguised as philosophy.
So yeah, I liked it. Why? Because it reminded me I should probably pay more attention to why I like anything at all… and also because it made me laugh at myself while doing so.
So true! I didn't start thinking like a writer when all I did was watch and read ... until I realized, I had never asked the "why" either. Now, I always do. You put it in words valuable to everyone, even people who are not artists and writers.
Great idea to include the famous quote: "In the words of Marcus Aurelius, 'The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.' "
I'm going to try to apply this "why" and "how" and see how it goes. I've gotten really lazy in articulating my reasons for liking something, or thinking it is good. This was a needed reminder.
Excellent question and insights here, Shannan.
It's like when I ask my kids 'how was school today?' and they reply 'good' and I ask 'why was it good?' and they say 'I don't know'.
'Liking' has become a reflex more than a considered act.
I noticed I liked this for its voice and all it packed, and I will read it again to hear the voice unpack it.
Yes. Exactly. I like most the poem I feel I never read before. I love the painting that shifts the way i see the rest of the world, even if just a little. I love the face that isn’t like every other face. Change is the door that opens outward from the walls. we ask to keep us safe. We need art in all forms that levers us into a taste of shifted relationship with our world. If we don’t like it, we can shift back. But we don’t have to. It’s our choice. That’s why it’s harder to be bored if we’re paying attention.
I really like Tetris because it reminds me of when an earthquake knocked my apartment over and I was buried alive by bricks (Dramitization, may not have happened).