WEBSTRUCTIONISM by ROBERTO LAVIDEZ

Friday, January 09, 2015

Words

(Bardo Thodol, Homer, de Sa Carneiro,

Macedo, Juhasz, Bonnefoy, Eluard, Amichai,

Seneca, Orghast, Schehade, Pilinszky, Sorescu,

Pennati, Medici, Ovid, Wedekind, Aeschylus,

Lorca, Sidran, Racine, Euripides, Pushkin)

by Roberto Lavidez

what has

happened

to me?

what has

happened?

a surge

would

uproot me

and shatter

me on

rock-edges

sluicing

my whole

trouble

to nothing

I want

to pull

myself

together

but go on

disintegrating

I fight

I enforce

useless

I float off

when

the mirror

is broken

open

your

nakedness

and mine

whisper

together

against us

everyday

a hundred

bullets

blast me

off my

feet

every day

get up

a hundred

times

more whole

the eyes

wind on

what

fleetings

of death

and it is

us in this

wind

in this

water

in this

cold

now

you rise

the water

opens

you lie

down

the water

spreads

but through

the wound

on my chest

God peers

into the

world

from the

beginning

to the end

the road is

laid down

human

scheming

is futile

kshhmaibya

geus

urva

gerezhda

kahmai

thwarozhdum

i-e

i-e-o

i-e

a-e-u-i

ni-e

nia-e-ka!

those

black birds!

everywhere

I go

the crows

are watching

you comb

your hair

in the

mirror

silently

as in

a coffin

of glass

suddenly

a whistle

shrieks out

behind a

passer-by

master of

the sense

of emptiness

and of

the sense

of fullness

the tiny ant

brings

the sun’s

flame

burning

and clear

out of the

ancient caves

she murmured:

which god

jealous of

beautiful

youth

plots now

to slay

this one?

it’ suddenly

so dark

I can’t see

my hand

in front

of my face

look there

now

a heart

pounding

thick with

hatred

behind the

door

the moon

leaves

a knife

hanging

in the sky

an ambush

of lead

that lies

in wait

for the

agony of

blood

the night

is unreal

quiet

like hell

which

does not

exist

all my

studied care

to preserve

myself

has brought

to this

I have lost

myself

I search

but I cannot

find myself

words!

don’t

you see

what has

happened?

with the

word

burn the

hearts of

the people

©robertolavidez2015

Thursday, January 08, 2015

remains of Lorca

by Roberto Lavidez

why was I

born among

mirrors?

the daylight

revolves

around me

the heart

feels like

an island

in the

infinite

silence

death is

looking

at me from

the towers

of Cordoba

can you

see the

wound

I carry

from my

throat to

my heart

if I am

dying

leave the

balcony

open

through

the laurel

branches

I saw

two doves

of darkness

the one

it was

the sun

the other

one

was lunar

ever

garden of

my torture

your body

flies from

me forever

the rose

was not

looking

for the

rose

was

unmoving

in the

heavens

the lamps

went out

the crickets

lit up

through the

olive trees

they come

bronze and

dream

the gypsies

leave

my hard

ivory skull

forever

have pity

on me

a peal

from the

belltower

lost in the

dimness

every song

is the

remains

of love

©robertolavidez2015

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

what’s going on

here Vallejo?

by Roberto Lavidez

what’s going on

here, in this

son of man?

the city shouts

and in the hall

of the Louvre

a child cries

in terror

at the sight

of the portrait

of another child

my mother

turns up

the collar

of my

overcoat

not because

it is beginning

to snow

but so

it begin

to snow

today

on one cheek

north

and on

one cheek

east

came out

of the poor

neighbor

of the wind

today

a splinter

has gotten

into her

the word

of man

free from

adjectives

and adverbs

which

woman

declines

in her unique

female case

even among

the thousand

voices

of the

Sistine

Chapel!

I look at

the hungry

man’s pain

and see that

this hunger is

so far away

from my

suffering

that were

I fast unto

death

at least

a blade

of grass

would always

sprout from

my tomb

let there

be milk

in blood

let a candle

be added

to the sun

eight hundred

to twenty

let eternity

pass under

bridges

the steps

have left

the kisses

the pardons

the crimes

what continues

in the house

are the foot

the lips

the eyes

the heart

confidence

in wickedness

not in the

wicked

in the glass

but never

in the liquor

in the corpse

not in the

man and

in yourself

alone

in yourself

alone

in yourself

alone

the low point

of my life

hasn’t

happened

yet

I will die in

Paris in a

downpour

a day which

I can already

remember

©robertolavidez2015

Monday, January 05, 2015

Pasternak’s ink

by Roberto Lavidez

wide

river

and field

stretch

away

snow is

falling

all is lost

the whole

world’s

streaming

past

our gatherings

are testaments

so the secret

stream

of suffering

may warm

the cold

of life

the candle

burned

on the table

the candle

burned

when did

the stars

sweep

down

so low

midnight

sink

so deep

in tall grass

consciousness

started

to flash

here

it seems

flooding

in play

even the

corners

of mind

where it’s

always

bright

as day

it seems

a primal

happiness

was setting

it seems

the wood

was sunk

in sunlet

dream

at twilight

the swifts

have no

power

to hold

back

that pale

blue

coolness

that moon

a numb

hound’s

tongue

is there

frozen tight

that mouths

like the

forgers

of coins

are stung

as if into

unprecedented

faith

I cross

into this

night

poetry

tonight

I’ll squeeze

you out

to make

the parched

sheets

flower

under

the blind

the steppe

plunges

from step

to star

below

the black

shows

through

and the

wind’s

furrowed

with cries

beyond

it’s Sunday

breaking

branches

the glade

running off

sliding

on leaves

has the

birch

copse

stopped

fading

staining

its shade

more watery

still

and growing

then?

isn’t its

meaning

for endless

lives

squandering

on nightingales

your glory?

I’m alone:

the Pharisees

are met

to live’s

not to

cross

a field

I’ll moisten

my lips

listening

whether

as ever

I’m loneliness

and ready

maybe for

weeping

better to

spread

the coat

on the

ground

here

beneath me

I think

I can

call on

words

that will

last:

you are

there

and I

found you

always

my favourite

reading

I am

finished

but you

live on

©robertolavidez2014

Saturday, January 03, 2015

an endless sum

of Borges

by Roberto Lavidez

if there is

no beginning

no ending

and if what

awaits us

is an endless

sum of

white days

and black

nights

we are

already

the past

we become

then my

life is

a flight

and I will

lose all

and all

will belong

to oblivion

or to that

other

we live

discovering

and forgetting

that sweet

familiarity

of the night

the ancient

name of

a street

the colourations

of a map

an unforeseen

etymology

a book

a dream

reveals that

they are

forms in

a dream

once dreamt

in Brittany

the moon

of these

nights

is not

the moon

the first

Adam saw

let the

glaciers of

oblivion

take and

engulf me

mercilessly

the reddened

mirror

facing to

the west

where burns

illusory dawn

fate

permits me

the gift

of choosing

for once

that silent

flower

where will

the rose

in your hand

exist that

lavishes

without

knowing

intimate gifts

the slowly

leaves

recall a child

who gravely

dreams

vague things

he cannot

understand

at dawn

I seem

to hear

a turbulent

murmur of

multitudes

who slip away

tonight

the moon

bright circle

fails to

dominate

space

I know

the customs

and souls

and that

dialect

of allusions

that every

human

gathering

goes weaving

at dawn

I gaze

at my hands

in my hands

the veins

there

in the

twilight

there persists

what’s almost

non-existent

bold

sad

an ancient

murmur

of bibles

war

I’ll erase the

accumulated

past

I’ll make

dust of

history

dust of dust

the afternoon

you gaze on

prove your

last

I think

of things

that weren’t

but might

have been

assiduously

I plot

these lines

in twilight

emptiness

a man

who as

Voltaire

wished

cultivate

his garden

Sunday, December 21, 2014

what am I to do with it?

(Akhmatova, Mayakovsky, Voznesensky,

Pasternak, Khlebnikov, Mandestam, Pasternak)

by Roberto Lavidez

these days

we’ve got

to take

brass

knuckles

and split

the world’s

skull open

in everything

I feel like

reaching

straight

to the

heart

of the

matter

dreams

are a harm

and it’s

useless to

fantasize

like a

burden

henceforth

superfluous

the shadows

of songs

and passions

have

disappeared

through the

silence

sails

a soundless

chorus of

midnight

birds

I want

to go home

to the

enormity

of the

apartment

that inspires

sadness

a body

is given

to me

what am I

to do

with it

so whole

and so

much

mine?

to leave the

handwriting

of my dust

on the stern

windows

like an

inmate’s

autograph

what are you?

what?!

you look

with longing

into books

through

windows

but where

are you

there?

I would

have laid

out

verses

like a

garden

trembling

in all their

veins

streets

are our

paintbrushes

public squares

our palettes

you think

on the

cheeks of

the café

it’s the sun

that lovingly

caresses

love

madly love

love itself

as the

windows

dissolve

into the

garden

and suck

in the lilac

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Kafkaesque

obscurity

by Roberto Lavidez

there are only

two things

truth and lies

explained by

the obscurity

of ancient times

I am standing

on a piece

of waste land

dancing the

dances of

the age

in order

to be safe

from the

sirens

escape like

steam in

the very

moment

between

one’s own

words and

one’s own

convictions

this life

appears

unbearable

another

unattainable

a nibbling

at our own

limits

it must end

in the realm

of the

inexplicable

the answer

prowls

round the

question

the thing

is to darken

or even

indeed

to blot out

to annoy

or to deface

or to destroy

completely

yet I do

nothing

to change

anything

there was

a buzzing

and whizzing

in the fields

he who

seeks

does not

find

even the

glimmer

of the

undying

fire

only a

state of

being

that craves

the last

breath

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

Friday, January 09, 2015

Thursday, January 08, 2015

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

Monday, January 05, 2015

Saturday, January 03, 2015

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Saturday, December 20, 2014

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