Typewriter Poems was published in 1972 by second aeon (and something else in the U.S.A.) who were based in Wales, so it's fitting, possibly inevitable, that the copy I recently bought used to reside in a Welsh library, at Trinity College, Carmarthen, to be precise. The library slip pasted inside, where return dates are stamped, only contains one date and that is 8 Sept 1990. That's something of a mystery. Does it mean the book was only loaned out once and not until 1990? That can't be right. Perhaps this slip replaced an old one. I like to think the original was full and had to be replaced, but it begs the question: how popular was Concrete Poetry in the early-70s?
Was Concrete Poetry ever 'popular'? Well, it's all subjective, eh? Concrete Poetry doesn't seem to have had a 'moment', as such, rather a period, or periods, when it was 'in the air', such as the mid-sixties? I'm guessing, of course, not being a scholar of the subject. For those in the know, Concrete Poetry has it's superstars, such as Bob Cobbing and Dom Sylvester Houédard in the UK. They, however, are big fish in a pond so small as to really be no more than a puddle. One could say, however, that even the ripples from puddles can reach far and wide, so I see the impact of Concrete Poetry in advertising of the era, in design and magazine layouts. But then, influences have a way of rippling back and forth like the tide. What influenced Concrete Poetry? Futurist lettering? Dada? Surrealist text? One could play that guessing game all day.
As befits its British origin, Typewriter Poems is a small book; modest, you might say. Just 52 pages. Yet somehow, in its modesty lies its charm. I don't know why I associate things British with modesty. Perhaps I've fallen for a stereotype that isn't true. We used to pride ourselves in our 'British reserve', but compared to what? American boldness? Could such reserve have created the industrial revolution and built an empire?
Does it come down to money? Was there less sloshing around in the UK in the early-70s? Less funding, or availability to produce bigger publications? America and money seem to be synonymous. They are, after all, the flag-bearers of capitalism, which generates money. If grants supporting the arts is anathema to the Land of the Free, the emphasis for would-be book-creators must be to somehow tap into all that money, even if doing so means accruing considerable debt.
I admire anyone who's willing to get in debt over a book. It may be a folly, but what a legacy to leave the world! By making a great book, such as Emmett Williams' An Anthology of Concrete Poetry (1967), ambition pays off, if not financially (I've no idea how much was made/lost on the book) but artistically. That work stands as a milestone.
Despite the supposed resurgence in typewriters as desirable items over recent years, I'm not aware of a similar rise in the amount typewriter art being made. I call it 'art', but that includes 'poems'. Of course not, you idiot! The typewriter as modern accessory is just that, a lovely object sitting on a shelf somewhere. Fair enough; they can be beautiful objects. As an instrument for making art, though, they prove...challenging, to say the least. I'm sure many a casual buyer has given up actually using the machine after simply trying to write a letter. I have a lot more to say on that subject but will save it for another post. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed this peek into the Peter Finch book.
Here's a piece I made a few weeks ago...
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| Surface Activity, RTomens, 2020 |
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