Martin Glaz Serup er i gang med at lægge alle oplæggene fra det af ham modererede panel om multi-linigual poesi på poesifestivalen Reverse ud på Promenaden. TAK FOR DET! Link til til Eugene Ostashevskys kostelige læsning af John Skeltons kosteligere papegøje-bugtalte digt fra 1521 (kendte du det, Tue Nexø!?). Og her afslutningen på fænomenale Cia Rinnes talk (med mange fine exempler, hvis I linker jer ind) + en nylig tal-poetisk opdatering:
There are usually three important aspects in composing and editing
the pieces. First of all, they need to make some sense – that is, there
may be nonsense pieces, too, but generally, I want most of the pieces to
make some sense. Secondly, they should be visually interesting,
although that, too, is not always the case, and finally, the aspect that
has become more and more important is the sonore quality of the texts.
Each piece tends to develop its own rhythm, and tonality, and the
arranging of the pieces in the entire reading/book is determined by all
of these aspects, the context, visuality and musicality. Still, all are
rather minimal, and operating on the border of several languages allows
the texts to retain a certain abstract character. The languages I use
are not necessarily related to any certain sphere or geographic area,
and since two of them are not my mother tongues, they are free of
connotations that are usually built-in for native speakers.
Consequently, I would not use and do not use different languages when
writing longer texts as radically as I do in the short pieces, so
translingualism in this case is closely related to minimalist writing.
The minimal variations take place within or across languages, and for
this, it feels only natural to use languages that are closely related
–after all, the texts are only written in European languages, and from
those, only with such that are closely related. Although meaning may
shift with sound, it never does so as radically as it does between
Finnish and Japanese for instance. Homophone translations that Tomomi Adachi and I worked on for a project
sounded entirely plausibly Finnish, resp. Japanese in translation,
while meaning had completely changed (if you can still talk about
meaning regarding the absurd outcome that is). Maybe the European
languages share more of an underlying rhizome and also a certain aural
compatibility that is useful when shifting from a language to another
via meaning or sound, a process described by Sebastián Zabronski as words opening doors that –as soon as several languages are involved– turn into revolving doors.