WEBSTRUCTIONISM by ROBERTO LAVIDEZ: September 2014

Thursday, September 25, 2014

G.M. Hopkins

one word more

by Roberto Lavidez

there is

a day

of all

the year

when life

revisits me

nerve and

vein

in the

staring

darkness

I can hear

the harshness

of the

cold wind

blowing

my own

heart

let me

more

have pity

on;

let me live

to my

sad self

hereafter

kind

charitable

when waking

hearts can

pardon much

and hard men

feel a

softening

touch

what makes

the man

and what

the man

within

that makes:

I have

desired

to go

where

springs

not fail

to fields

where flies

no sharp

and sided

hail

and a few

lilies blow

give beauty

back

beauty

back to god

beauty’s self

and beauty’s

giver

it does

amaze me

when the

clicking hour

clings on

the stroke

of death

that I can

smile

your comfort

is as sharp

as swords

and I cry out

for wounded

love

what would

the world be

once bereft

of wet and

of wildness?

let them

be left

o let them

be left

wildness

and wet;

now one

word more

and then

I am gone

indeed

warn’d by

the bright

procession

of the stars

I did not

mean

to sleep

but found

I had slept

a little and

was chill

while a

subtle spirit

and rare

breathe

as in the

mysterious

air

above me

round me lie

fronting my

forward eye

with sweet

and scarless

sky

©robertolavidez2014

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

life and life and life

A.Bierce, E. Blunden, I. Rosenberg, E. Browning,

E. Follen, J.Curran, O. Equiano, B. Jonson, G. Wither,

R. L’Estrange, J. Suckling, E. Jones, R. Emmet,

B. Bunting, H. MacDiarmid, C. McKay

by Roberto Lavidez

life and life

and life

agrope in

the dusk

in pause

and stillness

of the early

prime

stood thinking

of the past

and present

time

if sadly

thinking

with spirits

sinking

could more

than drinking

my cares

compose

though

my head

in the dust

may be lying

and bad men

exult o’er

my fall

I shall

smile

at them

if we

must die

let it

not be

like hogs

hunted and

penned

in an

inglorious

spot

to live

or die

beg only I

just powers

some end

me give

and traitor

thus force

me not

without

a heart

to live

in ev’ry

field

in ev’ry

lane and

street

in ev’ry

house

almost in

ev’ry place

with cries

and tears

and loud

complaints

we meet

and each

one thinks

his own

the saddest

case

dangers

were always

in my path

and fear

of wrath and

sometimes

death;

while pale

dejection

in me

reigned

I often

wept

by grief

constrained

I sit in

solitude

and only

hear

long silent

laughters

murmurings

of dismay

the lost

intensities

of hope

and fear

I know not

if it was

a dream

I came

unto a land

where

something

seemed

the same

my soul

is free

as the

ambient air

although

my baser

part’s

immured

whilst loyal

thoughts

do still

repair to

accompany

my solitude

I have

no wife

no parent

child

ally

to give my

substance to

but whom

I make

must be

my heir

and this

makes men

observe me

the function

as it seems

to me

o poetry

is to bring

to be

at lang

lang last

that unity…

the Mason

stirs:

words!

pens are

too light

take a

chisel

to write

every

birth

a crime

every

sentence

life

ah, where

is now

my peaceful

cot?

ah, where

my happy

home?

©robertolavidez2014

Monday, September 22, 2014

rising moon

( J. Zenea, P. Santacilia, J. Milanes, E. Varona,

J. Luaces, J. Quintero, J. Manzano, J. Marti,

B. Byrne, R. Boti, J. Poveda, R. Villena,

G. Avellaneda, J.M. Heredia, E. Ballagas)

by Roberto Lavidez

my soul

consumed

by those

vague fears

departed

for distant

shores

where I

dampened

my memories

with bitter

tears of

my heart

my struggle

I’ve sustained

surprised

by strength

of late

unhappy

self

my grief’s

remained

my fight

grows

obstinate

lost among

towering

masses

a dark

slope

began to

appear

which as if

compelled

by an

invisible

hand

with

curious

terror

I drew

near

but if

you don’t

hear this

lamentation

hear my

torment

and my

pain

let the

waves

swallow me

the waves

that begin

to roar

and rail!

if brought

down and

torn into

shreds

is my flag

some

terrible day

our dead

raising

their arms

shall

defend it

again

in their

way!

I have

the stern

impulse

and the

sacred

life of

my reveries

for those

who have

died

the sun

lengthens

in twilight

grateful

for the

people

their dogs

and children

fondly

greeting

as they go

unlike the

glacial

disdain of

rich suburban

men

Cuba!

you will

finally

be free

and pure

like the

breath

of light

that you

breathe

like the

roiling

waves

that you

feel kissing

the sand of

your coasts

good-bye!

the slow sail

creaks…

the anchor lifts…

the ship

shaken

cuts through

the waves

and silently

flies!

a heavy

iron hand

bears on

our hearts

a while

but in

joy

we come

to the

banquet

of the exile

oh countryside

when I see

your green

field calms

my young

heart

beats

cheerfully!

be blessed

by the man

who loved

you as

a child!

what is

your name

night of

nights?

tell me

your name

leave me

your

watchword

so that

I may

always

know you

I’ve witnessed

wings upon

the shoulders

of beautiful

women

in delight:

and I’ve

seen

butterflies

rising

as from

rubble

in their

flight

they are

harmonious

notes

of the world

in pain

this world

has a soul

for there is

a sensitive

soul in

everything

and if

when the

rising moon

is high

we see it

who will

give voice

to that

accent

with which

the sea

speaks

to us?...

voiceless

as a sigh

©robertolavidez2014

Hesse burning

by Roberto Lavidez

the quest

for wisdom

made you

comb the

libraries

now

every page

speaks

the truth

that flashes

from you

I found

a way

of consolation

by digging

deep into

my pain

my love

no longer

knows names

and simply

wants to be

alone

hands of

mine

stop doing

mind of

mine

stop thinking

the most

splendid

summer

yearns

to fade

into fall

autumn leaf

be still

and yielding

when the

wind

wants to

seize you

everything

remains and

will continue

only I am

alone

with anguish

and grief

so my life

drifts slowly

through

time

and will

wane

before long

and still

reach

the placeless

space where

the tides

of desire

rejoin the

timeless

ocean

after the

dry hard

notes of

unrelenting

sunny days

the rain’s

sad

mellow

sorrow

calls me

like a

sobbing

soul

pain is

a humbling

master

a wild fire

burning

through

our life

which we

no longer

recognize

as ours

a wall

of flames

surrounding

and

separating us

life simply

seems to

cease

sometimes

turns dark

stands still

stays frozen

my days

now drag

me down

no hearth

to give me

warmth

the ocean

is pounding

on the wall

the night sky

gazes through

my porthole

and the

desert air

blows its

hot breath

on me

a strange

sorrow

stabs my

soul

I walk

through

this town

unknown

the path

is thorny

sin and

death

its food

©robertolavidez2014

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Puerto Rican medley

(Zavala, Velez, Rivera, Torres, Pinero, Ambert,

Laviera, Agueros, Collado, Bercedoniz, Margenat,

De Burgos, Benitez, Morales, Vega)

by Roberto Lavidez

this poetry

is bored

with solitude

it wants

to chew

on winds

and fill

its periods

with rolls

of tobacco

leaves

while my

swiftly

speeding

pen

breathes

its last

farewell

and end

to my joys

slipping

away

just once

before

I die

I want to

climb up

on a

tenement

sky

to dream

my lungs

out till

I cry

then scatter

my ashes

thru the

Lower East

Side

what shall I

be called

when all

remains

of me

is a

memory

upon a rock

of a

deserted

isle?

I woke up

wandering

in outer

space

than living

in this

world

ocean eyes

followed

interacting

within

screaming

above

searching

underneath

I writhe

unrelenting

lust

howls at

my breast

with canticles

of desire

there is

nothing in

our souls

that is not

echo

there’s no

oblivion

in this

reiteration

that gives

breath to

our days

they’re

going to

judge me

in leisurely

analysis

the voice

of pledges

of rhetorical

affection

the body

of language

lies fully

stretched

out here:

its ambiguous

succulence

demands

I touch it

where none

and as all

others have

they’re

coming

though

you may

still think

not

the times

when ideas

spread

from spot

to spot

look at me

with your

pelagic

glance

when your

shore

changes

in my

murmurings

to think

alone

to think

as all the

gathered

forces of

creation

think

and so

alone

my revolution

fits so well

sometimes

I don’t

know

I’m

wearing it

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Guillen, red

with flames

by Roberto Lavidez

I am

walking

I meet

dreamy

horses

dreamy

vendors

dreamy

home-

bound

drunks

I fall

I cry

I stumble

on the

men of

yesterday

how could I

one day

tear

through

that

hermetic

cage

the blue

seal and

come out

on the

endless

sky

fill the

empty

cup of love

mix

let’s all

mix alcohol

and laughter

blood

sighs

bones

hearts and

kisses

suns and

lightning

flashes

blood

shines

on the

breast

of a cloud

that moves

slow in the

overcast sky

I am

walking

I meet

dreamy

horses

dreamy

vendors

dreamy

home-bound

drunks

I fall

I cry

I stumble

on the men

of yesterday

I feel

immense

night

fall on

profound

beasts

on innocent

castigated

souls

I come

from walking

far and

I remain

with my

people

I come

with my

memories

I come

with my

wounds

and my

verse

in what

language

do you

understand

me?

should I

address you

finally

in yes

in si

in bien

in well

in mal

in bad…

in very

bad?

and what

about

the rest

the other

thing

what we

would talk

about

my friend?

we’ve simply

grown up

we’ve grown…

but we don’t

forget

dawn

of time

in flames!

oh sea

oh sea of

overflowing

blood!

I know

there will

come men

whose lives

are green

my ancestral

jungle

with their

pain

open like

a cross

and their

breasts

red with

flames

here

we are!

the word

comes to us

moist from

the forest

and a vital

sun arises

in our veins

but the

voices

lie in wait

trick me

surround me

knife me

and

bleed me

aren’t there

many distant

things that

still seem

close

but are now

definitively

dead?

the voice

of a guitar

hangs

in the air

it dreams

and cries

WEBSTRUCTIONISM: Reinventing the World through Creative Language

by Roberto Lavidez

Webstructionism is a name I have given to a theory that explores the use of random words or string of words extracted from various texts and references as construction material for both poetry and art. It is a practice of sequencing words to form new phrases as narrative for painting. It is also a process of extracting and assembling unrelated words and phrases from different sources to create new poetry. What began as a wayward search for an idea for a painting has turned into a method that challenges one’s intellectual approach to words as much as it enhances creative use of language. It has also led to criticizing acquired language after discovering how words can be accumulated and manipulated to effect a thought outside of one’s storage of ideas.

The creative dimension of language use presupposes that man can generate and transform word combinations and grammatical structures that are not commonly articulated in any form of communication. Sentences and phrases that may have no exact parallels in previous English usage can be created and introduced to extrapolate abstract ideas. This rationalist view, in contrast to the empiricist, argues that not all knowledge is derived from and determined by sense experience. It supports the theory of innate ideas whereby some knowledge can result from the inherent structures of the mind. Though external stimulation is necessary to awaken innate capacities, it does not necessarily mean that ideas and concepts result completely from external impressions.

As an artist who is in the habit of not only rendering what is visible in nature, but also capturing what may be deemed unpaintable, I have recognized the viability of the written word as more than a tool for poetry by extending its use as guide material for an experimental pictorial composition. What began as a playful mixing of words from torn pages of an old English dictionary had evolved into a theory encompassing other linguistic theories that bear semblance to Webstructionism. The randomness of stringing words and sequencing of unrelated phrases offer exponential possibilities for creative projects of all media which may provide support to existing theories.

In elucidating the workings of the mind and its capacity to reinvent language, I have embarked on this experimental approach using art and poetry to underscore the creative mental process of forming phrases derived from random extraction of borrowed words. The expression of a thought comes from processing words or phrases that are made available through random selection. I rely on intuition in combining words that normally wouldn’t be selected in expressing a thought in the real sense. Phrases preclude any reference to clichés or predictable word combinations. Though there are instances when memory dictates the stringing of commonly used words to produce a phrase subsequent arrangement almost always lean back to the original intent of surprise of Webstructionism which diverts away from worn out phrases or any reference to immediate reality.

Now, how does this word structure render itself to visual exploration? There is an otherworldly reality inhabiting the canvas space where the arbitrary selections of words provide the framework - syntax as pictorial composition. Symbolic knowledge supersedes the literal in providing the blueprint for the visual imagery. The words that make up the complex phrase is connected by a single drawn line following the sequence of the group of words’ relative use to expressing a thought. The resulting visual abstraction made up of a continuous swirling line connecting words serves as the compositional guide for painting. Enclosed shapes determined by the line weaving through selected words are then painted according to artist’s preference which is directed by intuition and sometimes influenced if not hampered by his predictability of taste and acquired style. Choosing colors to fill in shapes simulate the process of choosing words to make a phrase. Aesthetics that guide the artist’s use of colors however do not necessarily apply the same writer’s approach of mixing words. The sensory appeal of colors influenced by artistic preference and knowledge of the discipline do not strictly correlate to the ordering or sequencing of words in a phrase. Rules are different for each discipline, literary or aesthetic, and compounded by the introduction of Webstructionism, adherence to what has been laid down thus far as rules of the game will eventually yield a more comprehensive scope or objective. Putting yellow next to mauve does not need analyzing as to whether it is representative of nature or an abstract concept as much as combining words ‘grout’ and ‘devout’. Lines and colors do not evoke as much analytical response as words. We can ‘read’ past the random display of colors on a canvas surface, but with words, which is what Webstructionism is driving at, the random selection of words when pasted or written together on the surface compels the literate viewer –reader to translate what may seem outright non-sensical verbiage to something even poetically profound. ‘Grout’ and ‘devout’ may be analyzed as sounding similar but the relevance does not end there. Though they rarely appear together on any text, both words when placed side by side, sans the conjunction, conjures up a meaningful connection or symbiosis. The pious devotee referring to the ‘devout’ requires faith which metaphorically can be associated with the word ‘grout’. Grout ‘fills the space’ which can represent the ‘filling in’ of doubt by the devout or devotee’s faith.

Webstructionist grammar does not reject sense. It does in fact embrace profundity given the right word or in the webstructionist sense ‘the rite’ of words through random selection. It is also, as mentioned, autonomous in the rationalist sense. Syntax is not solely derived experientially. It does not categorically represent sense reality. Sentence construction is rooted in imagination breeding odd selection of words in favor of the commonly used. Since ideas are stimulated by the words made available through random selection the artist is discovering thoughts that may have no parallel in the real sense but which can expand if not add new horizon to the conducive kind of rationality he has been accustomed to.

To illustrate the process of Webstructionism, the line that connects words to form a phrase creates the fluid like image branching into irregular shapes which are then enhanced by color. Words that are not selected are either painted over or left as they are printed on a page. The words taken to form a phrase command the flow of the line according to how each word appears in the sequence. What results as visual abstraction after the line is drawn following the sequence of words is actually a mapping out of the evolution of the phrase. It is similar to connecting dots to form a figure, only the dots are replaced by words and the line that goes through the phrase does not represent any particular figure other than the image it creates out of stringing words.

The first step involves skimming through the dictionary and picking a particular page. Leafing through the pages and stopping at any random page is all instinctive. What follows as the tearing of pages and the haphazard pasting of torn pieces on the canvas surface still requires no mental exertion. The word selection that transpires next, where some are highlighted and others are either left out or erased in the process, is based on the artist’s familiarity or quick recognition of the words. It might take some browsing and discriminate selecting of words but this is as far as the tweaking of the elements go which is not unlike choosing green over purple in coloring a spot. Though there are marginalized words that do not end up in the forming of a phrase the goal is to be able to arrange the retrieved words in the quickest way possible avoiding redundant words that would otherwise spoil the freshness of the selection. The process is similar to picking flowers for an arrangement without giving much thought as to why some are left out and others end up in a vase.

During the sequencing of words, worn out phrases are avoided to explore possibilities of creating a syntax out of unique word combinations. It is a conscious negation of conventional usage of the English language, freeing every formation or phrasing of words from the subjugation of official grammar. Despite the wide variety of descriptive words available to depict reality, common language is forged in its method of representation. The very limitation of vocabulary available to webstruction on the other hand, propels the imagination to forge a reality embedded in the new phrase.

In Wittgenstein’s philosophy of language, he rejected the assumption that the meaning of the word is the thing it stands for. Wittgenstein argued that meaning is what is given by explanations of meaning, which are rules for the use of words. It is what is understood when one understands what an utterance means based on several criteria of understanding. “Concepts are not correct or incorrect, only more or less useful. Rules for the use of words are not true or false. They are not answerable to reality, nor to antecedently given meanings. Rather they determine the meanings of words, are constitutive of their meanings.”

The intentionality of thought and language of Webstructionism conveys the subjective proposition of a metaphorical world laden with symbols. The object is not perceived or seen in the spatio-temporal world but is imagined from the relations of words. The personal imaging of thought formed by the play of words is manifested through the content of what is written. Though the puzzle of retrieving usable words to create a thought shares a similar thread of arbitrary use of language to represent external reality, Webstructionist thought gravitates towards the unknown like stumbling upon an intriguing object or mysterious code that needs to be examined or deciphered to reveal its meaning. The meaning is in the process of construction and deconstruction of imaginings. It does not pretentiously encapsulate the essence of a higher reality but can open up to alternative realities. The final end has neither finality nor ending. It can only retrace the arbitrary formation of words. Looking at the amorphous image created by the line tracing all the words that make up the phrase reveals the choices made by the artist and the blueprint of how messaging was processed. The inductive deductive roundabout exegesis behind the pictorial and verse compositions is the operative principle of Webstructionist thought and language. It is picture-making which generates potential variants of invented realities.

Roberto Lavidez

Ontario Canada

WEBSTRUCTIONISM by ROBERTO LAVIDEZ

Thursday, September 25, 2014

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