« Goutte À Goutte », Plein verre, 1940 (May) by Pierre Reverdy, Translated by Pierre L’Abbé, 2011.
Pierre L’Abbé is a translator, a publisher, and the author of poetry and short story collections. He lives in Toronto.
When I began generating images for this Reverdy poem my focus was ‘self’ seeing ‘self.’ I wondered also if the poem was historical. I pictured incidents from World War Two. Or maybe psychological? The poem seemed to present an existentialism assuaged with the balm of cathartic love. And then because, coincidentally, I assembled this page on Easter Sunday, I considered (perhaps outlandishly) this being a dialogue between Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene. In two voices. An end to their metaphysical, sexual, emotional love. Hmm…perhaps too literal. I wasn’t sure where metaphor began and personal voice ended. This began a chain of associations concerning language, representation, authenticity, double-identity, etc… and I was back at the idea of ‘self’ (whatever that is) seeing ‘self.’ You know that feeling you have when you look in a mirror? You know it’s you but you’re not quite sure who ‘you’ is. You see yourself experiencing an image of your self. So, as you can see, the poem presented a host of interpretive challenges. Pierre L’Abbe would know far more than me about this poem’s purpose. As always, I went with my intuitive response in creating images. In this case a face and a figure interact while constantly transforming.
Well, constantly transforming, that is each one of us, isn’t it?
When you mention Easter it makes me think of a shroud because there are just ‘traces’ in some of these images. And yes, a bit iconic, too.
Thank you very much for this note.
If this is a truism, It seems Reverdy was an exception to the rule; acutely aware of observing dual or multiple selves.
And here (with this illuminated screen) a medieval moment or two. Not timelessness but something slowed down. I appreciate Pierre L’Abbe translating this work and allowing me the opportunity, and challenge, to explore it visually & metaphorically. Your thoughts about shrouds and traces set off visual and visceral associations.
I, too, find the process of altering images a fascinating process. And then after placing one next to the words I usually see how the colour and texture, feeling and focus needs to be something quite different.
There is a strong taste of death and a strong question of its redemption, not yet answered. But that breath of love on bitterness is beautiful- there is light and hope coming through that shroud- depicted well in your images. I am fascinated by the colors this time.
Jack I share your feelings about the poem in terms of answers…I find it very deeply shadowed…this intrigues me…I appreciated the image switch of mood: ‘…when love enlightened breathes on bitterness.’ And yes to the idea of a shroud. The colours do seem to blend with light coming through a shroud.