For the past couple years, at least, I've been digging along in the trenches, or the mole-hole, of Ravenna Diagram, my long processional day-by-day poem. It might be nice to try messing with this blog as I used to, with off-the-cuff observations & ponderings. I have 15 minutes here before I have to go pick up Sophie, my granddaughter, from her school - what can I say in 15 minutes?
As I say, Ravenna D. absorbs most of my so-called mental concentration now. But fleeting thoughts today...
"Detachment." Is it possible an artist/poet might show a kind of natural capacity for detachment from his/her own work, and from the field of poetry generally?
Is such detachment perhaps necessary for substantial creative works?
I'm thinking about how poetic movements, fashions - fundamental changes in styles and thematic concerns - actually happen. Perhaps they have to culminate in a level of conscious choice, of principle. Some awareness, self-consciousness of one's cultural-historical situation, and of what might be possible.
This seemingly would require some mode of detachment - the ability to stand back, see things from "the outside".
Which for me anyway gets to a question about "tradition" in poetry. Is there such a thing? What does it mean?
Is it possible that the real & authentic creative effort we call "poetry" is very much caught up in a kind of artistic consciousness - a sort of retrospective "memory" - which is both involved, integrated - and detached from its processes and perspectives?
I guess the word often used is "critical" consciousness.
I must run... more later? Who knows.