This is the 1st dada poem I ever read.
The airplane weaves telegraph wires
and the fountain sings the same song
At the rendezvous of the coachman the aperitif is orange
but the locomotive mechanics have white eyes
the lady has lost her smile in the woods
Dimanche
Phillipe Souplaut (1897-1990)
With that, I instantly fell in love with dada and the dada method of automatic creativity, whereby you relinquish the wheel to the "unknown hand" of chance. But for me it turned out to be a brief affair: I found that a prolonged immersion in a workflow that consists of nothing but chopping up texts and making random juxtapositions left me feeling numb, schizophrenic, paranoid, like I was gradually fading into nothingness, erasing my soul with every line that "I" wrote.
No comments:
Post a Comment