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Sport 9: Spring 1992

[section]

My interest is in a poetic language; or more precisely the non-literal levels on which words operate and which allow the possibility of poetry.

I start with 'a few slides'; then try another take; and end with a little eulogy.

My illustrations are for the inner eye and begin

I.

With a sign seen outside a drycleaner's and not a barber's shop—

10% is ten per cent

This is clearly not definition or tautology but an emphatic assertion
(let me spell it out for you).

An image for second projector might be a painting by McCahon in which I and One inhabit the same space.

By allowing difference between what are virtually identical signifiers we are pressed up to the limits of what can be said. Further, McCahon's cyphers divorced from their conventional tribe refer to the self and by a continual interchange invest the I (eye) with isolation.

i / one

II.

flower st is in Grey Lynn (this is still McCahon territory—he lived in Partridge Street).

flower st in a market garden area would be banal. In industrial Grey Lynn the name wonderfully evokes absent life and colour.

If the tension is too great of course between word and context connotation collapses—for example flower corp.

The relation here of word and prime facie connotation is parody.

Talk delivered at the Now See Hear! seminar, Wellington City Art Gallery , 29 July 1990

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III.

Next, a sign I read from my house against the opposite green hill says (in large white letters) 4 sail.

4 become one sail—the word a larger squat one in perhaps a boat by Alfred Wallis in perpetual motion on green water.

(The silly pun and real estate intent are obliterated by the evocative power of the words in their landscape context.)

[I touch here of course on Ian Hamilton Finlay, a very serious punner/ punster/punter for whom the single word poem is completed by its (often landscape) environs—poem as act as well as fact.]

>IV.

well, jesus will save—lower case, painted on corrugated iron fence.

Normally religious tracts, political slogans, hoardings, graffiti don't admit of qualification.

So, 'well' in this context subverts the message. The sentence is of the same order nearly as LIBERTY FOR SOME on Finlay's crumpled French flag. Qualification is as subversive as a denial—more because it punctures the rhetoric with a small pin.

[One could put up here one of McCahon's elias paintings

Elias will save. . .Will he come and save

and say that on the other hand there is a vital relationship between doubt and faith. Doubt implies the possibility of something called faith and faith which differs from certainty implies the possibility of doubt.]

The sentence 'Well, Jesus will save' catches one's interest whereas religious texts outside a church create a kind of embarrassment which one might analyse in four ways:

  • the sign is inappropriate—♥on sleeve
  • the sign is trivial;we already have the sign of the church
  • the sign is undermined and contradicted by urban clutter and
    ugliness
  • the sign is subsumed to advertising but signals without
    confidence.
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black and white drawing

page 115
V.

A final found image

black and white photograph

perceived on a roadside blackboardthe white letters, well-formed, plain, the equivalent black spaces one reads and holds an unqualified qualifier in suspense before moving on to (pumpkins 70©).