Note 1: This text was originally written in Portuguese and published on my Medium blog on June, 2020.
Note 2: Automatically translated into English.
Note 3: It contains the analysis of an authorial poem.
Duchamp could not be more accurate: “art is not what you see, but the gap.” Art is never finished; there is always a possible, necessary filling, especially in poetry. Poetry is a web of images, ideas, and meanings; it’s the chaos of existence, empirical activity, orderly and kept secret. The poem is like Pandora’s box in Greek mythology; it spreads chaos, brings ambiguity; releasing all evils except hope. A good poem can be read and reread, but hope remains trapped, ready to find a new secret, a new perspective.
Art wrestles with chaos, but to make it sensible. — Deleuze & Guattari, What is Philosophy?
Art arises from human experience, from man’s relationship with the world; it is a way to understand, organize, and mainly validate his feelings and visions, an escape from the inevitable schizophrenia of existence. Communication, as opposed to schizophrenia, is at the base of every good poem written in the language of poetry, or rather, in anything written in any language.
We are in the 21st century, in a society submerged in an algorithmic ocean, everything is predictable: the clothes you want to buy, the food you want to eat, the music you want to listen to, the movie you want to watch. Everything. How is this possible? Magic!
Actually, no.
As said above: there is always hope in poetry, and this hope lies in the impossibility of identifying all the significant and representative qualities of the poem; there is always someone with a different romantic experience, with different intellectual baggage, with mastery of a different language, and who perhaps has read something about a new psychoanalytic trend (lol). Life phenomena, romantic experiences, family memories, and remembrances. These experiences always bring us closer to the truth of the poem, make us less alien to the poet, bring us very close, but never place us there. It’s like the infinity of differential calculus; we can get very close, but never get there. “There” is the unknowable, the Kantian “ding an sich”, a derivation that integrates, an antiderivative, countless possibilities of correlations where there is always hope for the new.
I am talking about poetry, but I could be talking about life; both are made in inherent qualities, not in alien quantities. As Rodrigo Gurgel says in one of his videos about poetry: “[…] just as we cannot understand everything that happens to us, we also can never understand everything in a good poem.”, or something like that.
But what if we could understand what happens to us? Link to heading
We already do in many cases, algorithms choose our music, our food, and our movies. But not our poems. Poetry is an escape from logic, an escape from possible technology, at least so far.
Have you ever thought about how an algorithm reads you? All language is based on logic, all logic is based on mathematics.
But what is logic? Link to heading
It’s the science that studies principles and methods of inference with the main objective of determining under what conditions certain things follow (are a consequence of), or not, others. — Cezar A. Mortari (Introduction to Logic)
If the universe is written in the language of mathematics, as Galileo wanted, logic is the way we use to interpret it. Let’s understand in practice, building, as simply as possible, a music recommendation algorithm. Let’s use a small amount of data to make the exercise simpler.
Imagine the flow:
1 — I enter the music app for the first time
Let’s say the app doesn’t have any of your data, which is quite difficult nowadays (usually, you access using a social network, which already brings a set of gathered data).
2 — I search for The Doors
Your first search on the platform, the APP for the first time comes into contact with your tastes, but nothing relevant.
3 — I search for Bob Dylan
The APP now gets more information and now, with two samples, we can make correlations.
We start by “reducing language to mathematics”. In this scenario, we have two values, let’s assign symbols:
- Q (The Doors)
- P (Dylan)
These are just two variables, a small amount, but it’s enough. Now let’s build a recommendation logic based solely on these two pieces of data.
Q ∧ P → QP (Q + P = QP [If The Doors and Bob Dylan then The Doors and Bob Dylan]).
Okay, this might seem strange, but let’s proceed.
The Doors and Bob Dylan have inherent characteristics within the platform; whether it’s style, nationality, era, etc. Thus, through these two variables, we can dive into a sea of new logical conditions. But again, let’s use a small amount of data in this mental exercise. Imagine both artists have only one internal category: nationality.
We will recommend a third artist based solely on these variables: P(The Doors) and Q(Bob Dylan), and each of them having one category: nationality (N).
These data were obtained directly from you, through your musical taste. Now imagine that the platform has millions and millions of artists in its database, all with various categories recorded (N, in this case), so with a simple cross-referencing, it’s possible to recommend an appropriate artist.
1 — I will go through my entire list of artists
Something a human could do if all artists were organized in notebook pages, for example. Depending on the number of artists, this would be impossible in a timely manner (for a human).
2 — I will compare and cross-reference our data
Let’s say there are 3 artists in my catalog of artists (besides the ones you searched for). Let’s represent the list of these artists with the letter C and their position, i.e., their uniqueness within this list with numbers 1 to 3. Each represents an artist (band) within my list of artists.
C(1) = Pink Floyd
C(2) = Rolling Stones
C(3) = Velvet Underground
If C(?)N (if the artist’s nationality [position between 1 and 3] from the list, no matter which) ∧ (this means conjunction, “and”) PN (the nationality of The Doors) ∧ QN (the nationality of Dylan) → C(?)
The question mark is a variable, I will use this same logical expression in my repetition, only changing the question mark for numbers 1 to 3. Follows:
A) C(1)N ∧ PN ∧ QN → C(1) | Wrong (contradiction)
B) C(2)N ∧ PN ∧ QN → C(2) | Wrong (contradiction)
C) C(3)N ∧ PN ∧ QN → C(3) | Only this is correct (tautology)
Why is only the last one (letter C) correct?
If C(3)N, that is, if the nationality (N) of Velvet Underground (C3) and (“and” as conjunction represented by “∧”) the nationality of The Doors (PN) and (we have another conjunction) the nationality of Dylan (QN) then (“→” represents implication, like the equals sign in mathematics: 2 + 2 = 4, or, two and two imply four) implies Velvet Underground (C3). The first two (letters A and B) are contradictions.
Wait, what?
When I say A and B, conjunction, I affirm that both values, A and B have true values, or both have false values, but definitely both have the same “quality”. If they had different values, the correct would be to postulate A or B (A ∨ B) or A and not B (A ∧ ¬B). This means that, only when all conditions are satisfied (the bands’ nationalities are the same), there will be an implication; in this case, the implication would be the band that our algorithm should recommend, in this case, Velvet Underground, because C(1)N and C(2)N (English nationality) are not equal to PN and QN (American nationality).
In this example, we’ve built an algorithm using two basic computer programming concepts: repetitions and conditions. Our algorithm suggests poor recommendations, based only on nationality. If we were to do psychosocial analyses to better understand, subjectively, how a human identifies with a song, and increase the number of data, adding the artist’s style, debut date, etc., and add statistical concepts… wow! We could reduce them to logical propositions (we can), make a big cross-reference of information and make very precise decisions, even with a certain degree of subjectivity.
Anyway, my goal here is not to explain language or delve into the merits of computing, I just wanted to establish a horizon of how the universe works, how we work, and how much our relationship with language configured in a recipe can be dangerous. Yes, memes, virals, the language used on social networks are taking a path towards the recipe, it’s a logic of engagement.
Why poetry? Link to heading
Poetry is a universe unto itself; it has its own logic, its own source of information: the human experience, perhaps quantifiable, but not relatable in a timely manner (for now?). In a world of propositions, poetry brings the premises, but cannot, in any way, be reassembled into a purely rational and inorganic logic. Poetry never brings the same feelings, in the same way, with the same logic. It’s the relationship between all the sensory and intellectual experiences of the poet, with all the sensory and intellectual experiences of the reader. Can this relationship be rationalized mathematically? These are quantities and experiences so particular, unrecorded, lived outside the internet, information systems, that, still, cannot be quantified.
Unlike a recipe, an algorithm, poetry does not bring a ready answer; it’s not something you and I will read in the same way, with the same goal and judgment. From this, the similarity stands out, the dialectical relationship between the creator, who in a way is an interpreter who just reassembles already created objects, and the reader who interprets it.
There’s a concept in Hegelian logic, “likeness”, which might be translated as similarity, and it’s in this concept, which can deal with both primordial and complex elements, that I seek a meaningful relationship of poetry at a systemic level:
“Likeness is an identity only of those things that are not equal, not identical to each other: and likeness is a relation of similar things. The two, therefore, do not fall into different aspects or viewpoints of the thing, with no mutual affinity, but one illuminates the other. Variety becomes reflexive difference or implicit and essential difference (distinction), determined or specific difference.” — Encyclopedia of Philosophical Sciences I — The Science of Logic
The relationship between verse and signification is of likeness, not equality; there lies the infinity of being, the hope within Pandora’s box. Since poetry does not assert, it cannot be invalidated or validated, but rediscovered in the gap that the poet leaves for the interpreter to illuminate.
Explaining a poem Link to heading
A poet does not explain their poems; it’s like giving the key to their vault of secrets. However, since I am not a poet, and I believe I will not be read enough to be minimally interpreted, I will explain one of my poems with the aim of clearly showing this infinity. I could simply analyze a poem by another author, but then I would be filling the gap. I want to show the structures of the gap I built and help you fill it.
The poem that will be explained next, the last one I wrote, was written with the aim of exploring semantics and the diversity of interpretations, but not all of its meanings will be said here.
Following is the poem and then its explanation:
Cough Link to heading
The gentle touch entered like an arrow
The body shivered like a heel,
He contemplated his disgrace
And his heroic feelings
From the chest to the eyes
Desire increased,
From the eyes to the chest,
The heart raced
With the measure he measured
He was soon measured,
With the arrow he launched
He saw himself wounded
The vows were then made:
He wielded the sword
Kissed its blade
And sheathed it
For he did not know what it was,
But knew what it could be
He felt too consciously
To know what to say…
Then there was serene shyness
There was sweet silence,
There was youthful vigor
The wine shone in their glasses,
Red in color,
Like the garments of Bacchus:
It moved smoothly
To the movement of hands
The smile shone on their faces
Revealing youth
That in the field of time,
Unaware of nostalgia,
Do nothing for eternity
There was no spectacle,
There was no trap.
There was no bitterness.
There was no poetry.
They loved each other
Once again,
Not for the last time.
They added up
Once more,
Until the end.
They were made by silence
And no longer by what they said,
They did not state, they felt
Felt.
Then as if by magic,
Conceived on the highest mount,
The kiss unfolded on parchment
Confining infinity and immensity,
In it was sanctified and, immobilized,
Listening attentively to that prayer:
Without subject, it was only predicate
Without quantity, it was only quality
His wisdom was to be nothing
His love was to be everything.
He felt as if God,
For a single minute,
Quenched hunger with food
Resolved war with peace
Contained disease with the cure
Embraced anger with equality,
Revived as a healthy and free boy,
Eternal child who knows not the whip,
Without Lord and without pain
Without martyrdom or cross,
This.
And be.
And if?
Glory to the Most High on earth
Glory to the Most High in me!
For a minute men would see each other as men
And in the next minute nothing would return to normal.
Everything would be as it is:
An eternal divine instant.
The kiss ceases like a young drag,
Strong and sensual,
Able to take time with the lungs
And bring it back the next minute,
Even though the damage is done,
She moves away slowly,
With new eyes
And a wide smile
While he,
With weak legs,
And a warm chest,
Coughs.
Explanation Link to heading
The passages of the poem are in italics, comments are highlighted.
The gentle touch entered like an arrow
The body shivered like a heel,
He contemplated his disgrace
And his heroic feelings
From the chest to the eyes
Desire increased,
From the eyes to chest,
The heart raced
With the measure he measured
He was soon measured,
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”In this passage, two things happen: first, I introduce the religious discourse into the poem, which continues further, and also I return to the relationship of optics established in the previous verses; without obstacles, he can see his lover — if we interpret the subject interacting with the protagonist as a lover —, and likewise, she can see him, both spatially (measure), bodily attraction, and subjectively, moral attraction. Everything the hidden subject cultivated, he will have as a return. As explained in the next verse:
With the arrow he launched
He saw himself wounded
"But I swear by the cross, for a few seconds I looked at her with intense hatred, the hatred that only a hair's breadth separates from the most intense and passionate love."
The vows were then made:
He wielded the sword
Kissed its blade
And sheathed it
For he did not know what it was,
But knew what it could be
He felt too consciously
To know what to say…
"Then, she stood up and fled. After she left, I took my sword and wanted to pierce it through my body, why? I don't know! Doubtlessly, out of enthusiasm; it would be a great absurdity, of course. You understand that one can kill oneself from joy? But I just kissed the blade of the sword and sheathed it."The subject of the poem, by making an implicit agreement with his lover; wields the sword, but does not use it, just kisses the blade and sheaths it (a strong metaphor), giving up the “attack”, coming out of the defensive and surrendering. What causes this effect? Doubt, now, again, without pride or vanity, he recognizes that the image he had of himself was just an image, and from that, he longs for more, longs for the feelings that language cannot bring or represent, therefore he is not capable of saying anything. Just feel.
Then there was serene shyness
There was sweet silence,
There was youthful vigor
The wine shone in their glasses,
Red in color,
Like the garments of Bacchus;
It moved smoothly
To the movement of hands
The smile shone on their faces
Revealing youth
That in the field of time,
Unaware of nostalgia,
Do nothing for eternity
There was no spectacle,
There was no trap.
There was no bitterness.
There was no poetry.
They loved each other
Once again,
Not for the last time.
They added up
Once more,
Until the end.
"‘At last,’ one of them exclaims, ‘I gave you love.’ Don Juan laughs at her: ‘At last? No,’ he says, ‘once more. Why should it be necessary to love rarely in order to love much?’"The quote above explains itself, as they did not care about the past, nostalgia, others, eternity, they could love each other as many times as they wanted without envisioning the end and property, only the means and freedom.
They were made by silence
And no longer by what they said,
They did not state, they felt
Felt.
Then as if by magic,
Conceived on the highest mount,
The kiss unfolded on parchment
Confining infinity and immensity,
In it was sanctified and, immobilized,
Listening attentively to that prayer:
Without subject, it was only predicate
Without quantity, it was only quality
His wisdom was to be nothing
His love was to be everything.
He felt as if God,
For a single minute,
Quenched hunger with food
Resolved war with peace
Contained disease with the cure
Embraced anger with equality,
Revived as a healthy and free boy,
Eternal child who knows not the whip,
Without Lord and without pain
Without martyrdom or cross,
This.
And be.
And if?
When I say "This," I play with the previously mentioned verbs. Firstly, with "This," I point to Jesus, without saying it. Secondly, with "And be," I reference Genesis 17:1.
"I am God Almighty; walk before me faithfully and be blameless."He felt as if all that were possible.
And ends with a question that conveys two meanings. "And if?" questioning "how so, to be? how to be?", and also "and if there were no hunger? and if there were no disease? and if it were different? and if?", dreaming of the previously presented possibilities.
Glory to the Most High on earth
Glory to the Most High in me!
For a minute men would see each other as men
And in the next minute nothing would return to normal.
Everything would be as it is:
An eternal divine instant.
The idea here is basically: if every man on earth had their belly full, were healthy, loved and were loved, spoke and were heard... even for an instant, the world would never again return to being ugly, alien, and opaque; men would realize that the world, and our existence, are just a passage in a tumultuous, cold, and ancient space-time. War, hunger, vanity, and disease make no logical sense in this scenario; if everyone were in a materially minimally equal situation, they would realize the great advantages of collective work, of giving and receiving. Of living. In a way, this is the construction of the State: we maintain it because we reap its benefits over time, in a relationship of exchange, between giving and receiving. In the poem, we approach more of a Divine State, for as the changes are so rapid and so general, it is not just about a material transformation performed by God, but also a philosophical revolution in men, given the nature of such a huge change within such a short time as 1 minute, inspired by feelings of love, its cause-and-effect relationship is envisioned without great complexities. The logic is given.The kiss ceases like a young drag,
Strong and sensual,
Able to take time with the lungs
And bring it back the next minute,
Even though the damage is done,
She moves away slowly,
With new eyes
And a wide smile
While he,
With weak legs,
And a warm chest,
Coughs.
The cough could signify many things. If I were a critic evaluating this poem in the future, I would certainly consider the relationship between the poem, the cough, and the coronavirus. And I ask further: is the figure interacting with the subject in the poem an idea or a woman? A herb or an entity?
I’ll limit myself to the explanations already given, and for now, keep the key to my secrets.
I know this text became long and comprehensive, but it was necessary to take some detours to explain what I mean: it’s always possible to extract something more from a poem, always possible to extract something more from life, escape the standard, step out of logic, the predictable, the quantifiable, the laziness. We live in the future, computers can do almost everything we do at an exorbitant speed. Every day we resemble them more, carrying empty repetitions, involuntary conditions, ready-made formulas, and figurative manifestations, politically, socially, and aesthetically. Only the data change. Think about the difficulty of putting this poem and all its subjectivity into formulations; into mathematical and logical constructions, as we did at the beginning of the text. Difficult.
Not by chance, I started the text citing Duchamp. In a way, everything has a poetic side, doesn’t it?