Insiggewende blog deur Billy Mills op die Guardian se boekeblad, oor hoe die besigheid van gedigte publiseer besig is om te verander. Kort aanhaling daaruit:
“So, where some see poetry as a dying art, I see it as an early and enthusiastic adopter of new technologies, partly because it has to be. Why? Well, if selling what you’re making isn’t going to make anyone rich, but you want to share it with those people who are interested, then you have to work out the cheapest way to do so. And right now it looks like that way is a mix of online, performance and print, with each supporting the other in a new model of publishing, one in which the printed collection is no longer the only accepted mode of publishing but remains a key part of the package. And given the apparent reluctance of most bookshops to stock verse, they’ll be sold mainly online and at events. It may not be big business, but that’s not what it’s setting out to be.”
Lees gerus ook die kommentaar wat op die blog volg.
Andries, ek dink beslis Polyani se punt het betrekking op kuns en kennis; en baie beslis op taal. Dit is dalk waarom, selfs al sou bundels skielik ‘n groot mark verower en werklik suksesvolle kommoditeite word, die poësie as sodanig – as ‘n soort bemoeienis met woorde en die tekstuur van sin – ons altyd sal herinner aan die nie-ten-volle-kommodifiseerbaarheid van taal (en denke, bewussyn). Soos smeltende gletsers mens herinner aan wat die natuur is…
Die punt oor kommodifikasie is ook waar vir ‘n hele paar ander kunsvorme in SA. Soos die meeste goeie Afrikaanse musiek. Soms wens ek dit kon kommoditeitstatus bereik. My mede musiekmisdadiger Brixton Barnard: “Hier’s net lee” borde in die ondergrond.” Desmond, ons het waarskynlik reeds daaroor gepraat, maar ek hou steeds van Karl Polanyi oor geld, arbeid en die natuur as fiktiewe kommoditeite. Om enige van hierdie as suiwer kommoditeit te koop en verkoop, verwoes die wesensaard (van arbeid, geld en die natuur) in die langer duur. Dalk geld dieselfde vir kuns en kennis? Mense verskil gereeld oor Polanyi se punt oor arbeid en geld, maar oor die natuur is die werklikheid te helder vir enige neoliberale donkerbril.
Ek hou baie van Marie Howe se siening hierbo; dit is een van die goed wat my ook nogal na die poësie toe aantrek – die ‘nie-funksionaliteit’ / ‘nie-instrumentalistiese aard’ daarvan… die kommersiële onlewensvatbaarheid / on-geld-igheid daarvan. In tye soos ons s’n is juis dit nogal radikaal. Dit is natuurlik nie waar dat poësie GLAD nie gekommodifiseer word nie: daar is die boek as ‘n kommoditeit; en natuurlik ook die idee van van ‘intellektuele eiendom’ en die uitbreiding van die definisie van ‘plagiaat’ (en die toenemende [self-]polisiëring wat daarmee saamgaan). Nietemin, ‘n groot deel van die poësie as praktyk en produk is in ons soort ekonomie wel ongeldig, en ‘n mens moet dit vier eerder as om dit te betwis.
weecalrobot se opmerking laat my dink aan Derrida se Che cos’è la poesia? (“What is poetry?”) waarin hy praat van poësie as iets wat ‘n mens par coeur (“by heart”/soos ‘n papegaai) wil leer. Par coeur kan ook as opweg/padlangs/met ‘n ompad/deurpad/kruisweg gelees word. Kortom, ‘n sekere lieflike buitensporige gekheid word vereis om poësie se plek in ons lewe te begryp. weecalrobot skryf:
‘There’s no money in poetry, but then there’s no poetry in money either.’ – Robert Graves
Or as New York Laureate Marie Howe put it in an interview with Huffington Post last year: ‘The great thing about poetry is that it is simply not ‘commodifiable.’ Materially speaking, it’s worthless in this culture. There’s very, very little money to be made from writing poetry. In that way, it’s subversive since anyone can steal it. Anyone can take it. Anyone can learn it by heart. Anyone can whisper it, can carry it into a jail, through borders, across all sorts of state lines. Poetry is that which can be carried anywhere. It’s invisible. And that makes it very, very precious in a culture where everything has a price. It still has a purity. It has not been co-opted. And as I say, a poet wants you to learn his or her poem by heart. They want you to copy it. They want you to steal their work. There’s no greater pleasure than knowing that somebody has taped your poem to the refrigerator door or sent it to five friends. That’s the greatest joy in poetry, having it passed around and read and heard.’
Inherently pro-piracy and anti-commodity – this is why a) falling sales don’t matter and b) poetry is more valuable than ever.
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