Commentaries - January 2013

Arie Galles: Two Journal Entries from “Drawing with Ashes”

1/"SKULL"


Arie Galles: From 14 Stations, Bergen-Belsen
Arie Galles: From 14 Stations, Bergen-Belsen

1
December 13, 1993

As I listen to Bach on the tape deck I work on the "Bergen –Belsen" drawing. "Konzert Für 4 Cymbali und Orchester a-moll" conducted by Karl Richter, with the Münchener Bach-Orchester. I listen and draw to the set of tapes I bought nearly seventeen years ago. I occupy myself exclusively with the dark woods and white roads outside of the camp. After much research and preparatory studies, this is my first full-scale drawing of the "Fourteen Stations"/"Hey Yud Dalet" suite. The area my charcoal creates allows me to concern myself only with texture and the relative values I am incising upon the paper. The music permeates my head. I enjoy the reverie. 

I draw four dots, four tiny black dots on the north west perimeter of the camp. Suddenly, the reality of what those dots are hits me with the force of a sledgehammer against my heart. These are shadows of guard towers. When this photograph was taken the towers were manned by the SS. I can feel the camp overflowing with its tortured prisoners. 

I break down in tears, and am unable to draw anything at all. I call Sara and we go for a walk. She understands. For five years after the war, she herself lived in Bergen-Belsen after the soldier's quarters were turned into a Displaced Persons Camp. 

2
December 25, 1993

 Just completed "Station # 5, Bergen-Belsen". This is probably the most competent drawing I have made in my life. Looking at it, I sense an actual depth of space between me and the concentration camp. I can almost breathe the air rising above it. I believe I could stretch out my hand and feel the wind upon my extended fingers. The camp is so very far below. 

It is a strange complex of buildings, straggling a highway and cutting it in half with its barbed wire outline. The white spots are ash pits and mass graves. On the center right of the camp, and just outside the fence a skull grins at me from a clearing. The skull is the clearing. Three clumps of trees make up its eye sockets and nasal cavity, a glimpse of a secondary road shines through the trees. A white toothy macabre smile! 

 Arie Galles: From 14 Stations, Bergen-Belsen (detail)
Arie Galles: From 14 Stations, Bergen-Belsen (detail)

I saw it immediately, as I first set eyes on this old RAF photograph taken on September 13, 1944. The skull is not far from the Men's Camp, right past the latrines. Is Nature screaming to heavens the nature of this place? The original photo bears a notation, perhaps by someone from the RAF Air Reconnaissance. It is a small circle enclosing a T junction just to the right of the clearing. Next to the circle, written in white against the dark background is, "X 471664." I do not include this in the finished work. 

People viewing the drawing may ask why I drew a skull there. I can only respond that I didn't invent it, I drew what I saw in front of my eyes. 

2 / "St. Buchenwald"

Arie Galles: From 14 Stations, Buchenwald
Arie Galles: From 14 Stations, Buchenwald

 February 27, 2000

I don't know why I haven't noticed it before. It was here all the time, sitting on the surface of the half-finished drawing of Buchenwald. Perhaps only now, by getting my whole being into completing the drawing, this shape could be perceived. In some ways it is a great Rorschach pattern upon which I can hone my vision. Like the gigantic scratch drawing in Peru, carved into the living earth, this figure can only be seen from above. Without intent, and with no conscious design for its creation, it signals skyward.

 The photograph was taken during a bombing run on the Weimar armaments works on August 24, 1944 by the USAAC 8th Air Force. My cousin, Avram Tisser, was one of the inmates in the adjacent concentration camp. The human-like outline, slightly to the left of the camp, is clearly visible. It is delineated by the rail road tracks to its left and the periphery of the forest to its right. A road weaving slightly to his right side makes one half of the woods appear like a cloak held across the body.

 The shape is almost Byzantine in form and posture. It is wearing an Ephod, its intricate embroidery are the various structures, sheds and alleys of the factory complex. Its head, a dark peninsula of woods and buildings, is tilted slightly to his left and crowned with the semi-circular halo of SS barracks, the rectangular jewels in this crown.

 The left eye is wide open, glaring out with its tiny iris. The right eye is sutured shut. An ugly scar. Slightly left of the center of the body, where one would expect a heart, is a cluster of exploding bomb plumes. St. Buchenwald!

 I can't help but see him now every time I glance at the drawing. The perversely zealous patron of the camp is having his heart blasted out. Unfortunately, the camp didn't cease to be his dominion after this raid. Much later, as the camp was liberated, no one bothered to look at it from above. Maybe no one from above saw the camp at all. His handiwork, right there on the ground, was all consuming in its vileness.

 In drawing I hover above that slaughterhouse, forced to contemplate the costume he wore for this topographical masquerade.

[NOTE. In the early 1990s, Arie Galles, whose most recent work had involved drawing with light-reflected color, made a radical shift of materials & theme. The result was a series of monumental charcoal drawings based on World War Two aerial photographs of fourteen Nazi death camps in Germany & Poland. What immediately struck me when Galles introduced me to what was then a work in progress was that his medium had switched from one of light & color to one of dust & ashes, something that hadn’t figured into his initial thinking but that made perfect sense for what he was then doing. I was also impressed by the distancing the photographs allowed, all the more forceful for the sense it conveyed of a view from heaven, so to speak, the horror & pathos of the hell below lost or hidden in the greater universe around us. With that in mind, when he asked me to give him poems to draw – also in charcoal -- & to exhibit alongside the death camp images, I turned again to gematria (traditional Hebrew numerology) & an aleatory mode of composition as a way to try to match the distance & force of what he had been doing.

What I didn’t know then was that Galles was keeping an ongoing journal of what turned out to be a decade-long project. Reading it now as a supplement to his “14 Stations” I’m struck by the movements of his mind & spirit there, the narrative of a journey that his work as an artist had allowed him to make. I don’t keep track of my own workings in the same way, & I don’t know how many of us do, but when it happens, there’s a secondary illumination that makes the original that much more telling. I imagine that his journal, Drawing with Ashes, is now edging its way toward becoming a book, as all things we value do. Or so Mallarmé told us. (J.R.)]

 An image & poem from “14 Stations” appears here on Poems & Poetics, while the whole suite can be viewed at http://ariegalles.com/fourteen-stations.html.

What Me Was Conceptual? (1982)

Scans  of  the two poems of mine published in The World #37, 1982 – the St. Mark's Poetry Project mimeo magazine, this issue edited by Harris Schiff. The first poem "Abstract" has not otherwise been published; it is adapted, verbatim, from one of the many abstracts I wrote each month for Modern Medicine (Canadian edition). "people must love or approve of me ..." was included, in a different format, as the chorus in "A Person is Not an Entity Symbolic but the Divine Incarnate” in The Sophist (and later included in the libretto for The Subject.)


See also:
What, Me Conceptual?
(PennSound page, 2008, Tucson)

Outsider Poems, a Mini-Anthology in Progress (50): Ernst Herbeck, “Golden ABCs,” with translation from German by Gary Sullivan

Photo credit: © Privatstiftung–Künstler aus Gugging
Photo credit: © Privatstiftung–Künstler aus Gugging

Golden ABCs

The sequence A-Z
The alphabet in order
The lock
The book order B-Y
The interim result C

A
1. A beautiful A
as it once was
is—like— an apple star
in—Vien’na (AS N)
2. A beautiful film star
is a prayer
As gladly I’s once staged (in old time VIENNA)
and as beautiful; as it once waS.
3. A A A winter that is there.
Winter, summer, autumn and rain
P l e a s e God—bounty me the apple gain.
A A A spring that is THERE.

B
B B B to separate does hurt.
always tributary in the crossroads,
the wood falls in whining odes,
B B B to separate does hurt.
B B B to separate does hurt.
Wood disheartened in the holloway,
the wood lies at the crossroads,
B B B to separate does hurt.

C
The high of C is happiness,
but love belongs to property.
Turn, turn, turn, that is C
Turn, turn, turn, there is C
love is everything passed
Had we but caught it,
Turn, Turn, Turn, there lies the C

D
D D D the mother does me harm.
Lamentful cross and much bemoaned
and the money to be loaned
D D D the mother does the harm.

E
E E E now there is snow and ice.
Winter that has begun.
Winter that has imprisoned us.
E E E now there is snow and ice.

F
This letter cannot be written
because it is not there.

G
G G G finds itself in the way
finds itself in the auto logo
because the men settle it so.
G G G finds itself at the base.

H
H H H a guesthouse that is there
every Viennese wants that as long
as they stand in the arch-of-stars.
H H H the Viennese that is near.

I
I I I an Italian cattle ranch
fat animals at the hedges
want always for aunt to ask,
I I I an Italian cattle ranch.

J
J J J now the letter is in the tea
unguarded and drowned
wants always to brew this post-renown
J J J now the letter is in the tea.

K
K K K soldiers’ question kiln.
Always blood and without sorrow
Must the son of the parents (borrow).
K K K soldiers’ question CWM.

L
L L L the Latvian question dwells,
“You want blood and other thrill”
Evenings suffer just the pill.
L L L the Latvian question dwells.

M
M M M the mother is a Pem
Always lust and without grace
Can one almost the bug case (solve)
M M M the mother is a Pem.

N
N N N the carpenter builds a shelf.
Always courage and without worry
he builds himself the wagon barge.
N N N the carpenter builds a “shelf.”

O
O O O the eyes are looking so.
Courage gone and in LETTING
one can not be letting
O O O the ears to dazzle soo.

Qu
Qu Qu Qu the frogs come into view.
look badly beaten courageless.
for something to eat on the page?
Qu Qu Qu the frogs come into view.

R
R R R the work that is, is hard
rage-suppressed and hard the work
one cannot afford BABBLE.
R R R the work that is, is hard.

S
S S S soldier’s question tess(t)
with shooting in the lesson.
one can not test—honor.
S S S soldier’s question thess.

T
T T T the tea question.
Coffee plantations without concern
cnan Japan be occluded.
T T T that is the tea question.

U
U U U now we play blind cow
Children let the play begin.
without quarreling or question.
U U U Now we play blind cow.

V
V V V this frau is a scow
Why, just ask the papa.
Whether it’s good for JAGA
V V V the frau is a SScow.

W
W W W Le projectile
ice pune uce scrine
Girl then leaves the leg(g)s
W W W Le projectile.

X
X X X the legs are in the Tom mix
kiss and biss for a nowman
But don’t you leave the flophouse
X X X the legs are in the Tom mix

Y
Y Y Y The flowers are not pretty
hedge roses and a little stilts
bird blackbird and a kitten
Y Y Y the flowers are not pretty.

Z
Z Z Z To the Mish is the Shat
always heard and also seen
Stockings stuff and that is that
Z Z Z To the MMash is the Shat
KITCHEN—

[Written May 11-15, 1968.]

NOTE: The force in Herbeck’s poems is in the consistent eruptions of the unexpected against a base language that seems deceptive in its presumed simplicities. His public recognition as an outsider poet, as with others so designated, has too often substituted a clinical approach to what would be seen in other poets as works of exploratory & liberatory daring, at the edge of experimental writing for his place & time. A first selection of translations by Gary Sullivan, himself a significant American experimentalist, has recently appeared in Everyone Has a Mouth from Ugly Duckling Presse, with the promise of many more to come. In the Presse’s summary notice: “Ernst Herbeck (October 9, 1920-September 11, 1991) was a well-loved Austrian poet who was institutionalized at the Marie Gugging Psychiatric Institute on the outskirts of Vienna. He was encouraged to write poetry by Gugging's Head Clinician, Leo Navratil, a champion of naive art who would later establish Gugging's Haus der Künstler, or Artists' House. From 1960 until Herbeck's death in 1991, Navratil prompted Herbeck to write some 1,200 poems, always providing the poet with a theme, which often, though not always, became the poem's title. With Herbeck's permission, Navratil edited and published several books of Herbeck's poetry; a year after Herbeck's death, Navratil edited Herbeck's collected writings, Im Herbst da reiht der Feenwind (In Fall the Wind-of-Fairies Aligns), from which the poems in Everyone Has a Mouth were chosen.” The portrait of Herbeck, above, is by Oswald Tschirtner (1920-2007), himself a patient at the Gugging Institute.

Hugh Sykes Davies

1936 review of 'Narration' by Gertrude Stein

Gertrude Stein as Miss America, photo  by Carl Van Vechten (1880–1964)
Gertrude Stein as Miss America, photo by Carl Van Vechten (1880–1964)

Gertrude Stein was not always revered as a muse of literature. Far from it. Her climb to fame was long and arduous.  The English surrealist Huge Sykes Davies dropped this boulder in her path.

Narration. By Gertrude Stein. (The University of Chicago Press.) 11s.6d. [Eleven shillings and sixpence.]
 This piece was first published in ‘Books of the Quarter,’ in Criterion, UK, 15/61, July 1936, pages 752–5.
 It is 1,700 words or about four printed pages long.

“In fact all Miss Stein’s old virtues have forsaken her. The trick of constant repetition which gave pleasure when it was used in prose with no rational end, for purely aesthetic purposes, has adapted itself very ill to the making of statements with meaning. It is bad enough to hear a silly theory advanced once, it is agony to hear it advanced twenty times in quick succession.”

More … In Jacket 20, here.

Rose is a rose in python

Jared Nielsen has created a series of videos in which he rewrites modernist poems as Python programming language scripts. His character — intended to engage children in this experimental poetry-programming — is Guido the Python. Click here for a link to the site and access to the video of the Stein piece.