Showing posts with label Ray Ellenwood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ray Ellenwood. Show all posts

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Open Letter: A Canadian Journal of Writing and Theory: “Surrealism in Canada”



Importantly, for the mandate of Open Letter, we present here several articles and interviews, which break new ground in the area of critical and historical writing on Surrealism. Some of the articles explore the positioning of Surrealism within the larger context of modern literary history, exploring influences from other movements (Romanticism, Symbolism), and Surrealism’s influence on other tendencies (Oulipo, Magic Realism, Situationism). A need to class Surrealist expression is a persistent current in many of these articles and interviews, often attempting to place it inside a timeline, usually within, or in opposition to André Breton’s orbit of influence. Invaluable original research is presented here, including an exhaustive examination of the origins of Breton’s famous work Arcanum 17. (Beatriz Hausner, “What can be”)


I’m not entirely sure when Frank Davey’s Open Letter: A Canadian Journal of Writing and Theory comes to an end [see the profile I wrote on the journal for Open Book: Ontario here], but it can’t be that long, now. The loss will be substantial. Until then, the most recent issue, “Fifteenth Series, Number 3, Summer 2013” is “Surrealism in Canada,” guest co-edited by Gregory Betts and Beatriz Hausner, both of whom have approached the idea of surrealism from different vantage points, including interviews, essays, poems and other materials to give an overview of some of the activity that has occurred within the boundaries of Canada over the past century. Part of the appeal of this particular issue as a whole is in the way it attempts to engage with a variety of threads of what could fall under the umbrella of “Canadian Surrealism,” from contributions on and of fiction, poetry, theatre and the visual arts by Ray Ellenwood, Peter Dubé, Lillian Necakov, Gregg Simpson, Ludwig Zeller, Karl Jirgens and Claude Gauvreau.

The Ensemble of Sleep

What night demands on Monday
sour hand half minutes
when we enter this paradise
love and arms resemble
the ear that I told you yesterday
there is not much to your street
I let my coat enter your hands
with this, amiable
all is tempered by human time
we assemble sleep
my love with fur stars
the sky above us like a drop
I reclose your many hands
and also the tents that tremble love
watch us longingly
in the ensemble of sleep. (Lillian Necakov, “Translating dead French guys”)

The collection also includes Toronto poet and critic Stephen Cain’s lengthy essay, “André Breton in Canada,” exploring the possible connections produced through and by Breton’s brief stay in Quebec in 1944, where he infamously “was inspired to write his last novel, Arcane 17, in the three months he stayed.” As Cain writes, early on in the essay:

But why did Breton come to Gaspé in the first place? There appear to be several contradictory reports but, perhaps understandably, Quebecois literary and artistic criticism has been more precise about Breton’s trip to Canada than international critics and biographers.

For some time, considerations of surrealism in Canada have been limited to relatively unrelated considerations and self-contained pockets, from Betts’ work on poet W.W.E. Ross, the Montreal Surrealists, Brion Gysin, Ludwig Zeller and the predominantly Toronto poets Stuart Ross collected (including Necakov) in his anthology Surreal Estate: 13 Canadianpoets under the influence (Toronto ON: The Mercury Press, 2007). Both editors include introductions to the collection, with Hausner’s “What can be” providing more of an introductory overview to the contents of the issue, and Betts’ “The Nonnational Boundaries of Surrealism in Canada” providing an intriguing overview of how surrealism has impacted upon and through the boundaries of Canada. As he writes, “I approach this issue and this topic not as an attempt to resurrect or invent boundaries by nationalizing the Surrealist movement, but to provide a venue for Surrealist expression and to recognize the wealth of activity that happened in and most often against these borders.” He writes:

It was not until the expats and exiles began seeping into French Canada while avoiding the war over there that the essentially and metaphysically disruptive implications of Surrealism revealed itself here. Borduas, Pellan, Renaud, Leduc, les frères Gauvreau, Sullivan, and all of the other stalwarts of the first active generation of Surrealists in Canada knew very quickly that they had tapped into a powder keg. Unlike in Toronto, the weird abstractions and nonrepresentational experiments in art (including literature, theatre, painting, dance, and music) were recognized as a disruption of reason, which was recognized by revolutionary artist and reactionary critics alike as an affront to God and country. It took a more Catholic context to make that link (and also one far more aware of the Paris scene). In the beginning was the word; the logos, the divine word. But the Greek term ‘logos’ does not just translate as the English ‘word’: it marks the reason and the divine ratio that keeps the universe in balance. If nothing else, Surrealists have always been unreasonable. Thus Borduas decreed in the founding manifesto of the Montreal Automatists, “To hell with holy water and the French-Canadian tuque!” (30). If rationalism and nationalism were the problem behind burning Europe, prudish Canada, and fascist Quebec, then the Surrealists would turn to irrationalism and nonnationalism as antidote.

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Open Letter (Fourteenth Series, Number 6, Summer 2011): Remembering Barbara Godard


Next to Barbara Godard's own sharp, scholarly, critique of the gutting of the institutions of Canadian culture, stands my memory of her own power to shape cultural networks. The strongest image I carry from knowing Barbara is that of her Bloor street introductions. Running into Barbara on the street, being swept into her monologue. Within a minute being introduced to someone else who crossed our path. This crafting of networks, as others have noted, was a generous gift that Barbara gave to the world. It also forms a hopeful antithesis to Godard's diagnosis of the encroachment of the market model of culture in Canada. Is it enough? I don't have an answer. I instead have an imagining of another world. Where Godard's Toronto is Woolf's London, where Godard merges with another maker of introductions, Clarissa Dalloway. (Shauna Lancit, “Barbara Godard on Bloor Street”)
Guest-edited by Jennifer Henderson, Eva C. Karpinski, Ian Sowton and Ray Ellenwood, the summer 2011 issue of the critical journal Open Letter is a festshrift to the late writer, translator, teacher and critic Barbara Godard. When she died, in May 2010, I was startled that there wasn't an obituary published in the Globe and Mail (they didn't post one for the poet John Newlove, either), so a volume as such in tribute becomes an overdue relief. As their introduction explains, work on the current volume began before her sudden death, charging and changing the work of editing and compiling:
When we first started collecting contributions to this special issue dedicated to Barbara Godard, she was still among us. Her sudden loss, in May 2010, gave a completely new meaning to the process of honouring her, casting a shadow on what was to be a happy occasion of celebration, and transforming it into a more solemn event. Yet it is still a feast of memory, a symposium albiet upstaged by death. This volume is a collective act of bearing witness to many relationships – of friendship, collaboration, or mentoring – that she invited into her life. It is thus both an act of friendship and a performance of mourning, celebrating her memory through our memories of her. Coming from different academic generations, all four of us have traversed similar trajectories in our relationships with her, either as colleagues becoming collaborators becoming friends, or students becoming collaborators becoming colleagues becoming friends.
As the introduction goes on to describe, the first piece in the collection is by Nicole Brossard, presented as one of two inaugural addresses (the other, by Daphne Marlatt, is “Breaks and Becomings”) “at the Barbara Godard Symposium 'Inspiring Collaborations' that took place in Toronto in December 2008.”
I know what I owe to Barbara who was the first to introduce my poetry and my writing to Coach House Press and to an English audience through her translation of three major feminist books of mine, books written at a crucial moment of my life and reflection : Lovhers, These our Mothers and Picture Theory has been un tour de force. It is because of Barbara's translation of poems from Lovhers that I was able to participate in May 1981 in the event Writers in Dialogue with Adrienne Rich. Part of my English life starts with Barbara's translation of Lovhers. To be given the possibility to exist in another language because of translation is an enormous gift. Barbara has offered me that gift and privilege et je lui en suis profondément reconnaissante. (Nicole Brossard, “Le petite musiqe de Barbara Thompson”)
This issue is divided into four sections, with pieces by Nicole Brossard, Beatriz Hausner, Dunja Baus and Majero Bouman, Shauna Lancit, Sherry Simon and Cheryl Sourkes in “Remembering & Documenting Barbara in the World,” an uncollected essay by Barbara Godard, along with pieces by Michéle Lacome, Susan M. Murphy, Janice Andreae and Darren Wershler in “Cultural Criticism,” pieces by Eva C. Karpinski, Robert Majzels and Kathy Mezei in “Translation,” and pieces by Nadine Boljkovac and Zoë Druick in the final section, “Film.” Each section working to explore the many facets of Godard's ongoing works, and perhaps this issue might exist as a small companion to Godard's expansive collection of essays, Canadian Literature at the Crossroads of Language and Culture, edited by Smaro Kamboureli (Edmonton AB: Writer-as-Critic / NeWest Press, 2008). One can only hope that perhaps a further, more comprehensive volume covering more of Godard's works, and continuing such, will follow.
Revolutions do indeed begin with simple things, with a change in a word or a sensation. They continue, as Himani writes, when “Someone will teach someone who will teach others” (1986 49). As I've attempted to show here, this teaching of readers takes place in language. (Barbara Godard, “Poetics of Resistance: the Work of Himani Bannerji”)