- Polar Descriptions: Amy Balkin and Adriane Colburn(Event)(3 days)
Poetics and Disablement [2]: Notes for an Emerging Project
I prepared the following notes as part of my introduction to Thom Donovan’s talk, “Allegories of Disablement,” on July 23, 2008, which took place over a potluck dinner last nite, with 18 people in attendance. I’m posting these notes here for comment and elaboration as they might contribute to a description for a new Nonsite working group / curriculum.
As I mentioned last nite, it’s been exciting to see this discussion around “poetics and disability” emerge, not only because of the obvious value of its content, but also because it illustrates how the provisional and still fledgling framework of the collective really can enable a self-organized curriculum to take shape organically. Following the various threads of the discussion has been like watching an amphibious discourse emerge from the marsh, as it imagines its own terms, problems and questions without recourse to sanctioned coordinates of knowledge to measure the success of its becoming.
Amber DiPietra began the discussion by pitching an inquiry in a post dated 5/04/08, responding to a call for agenda items for the Nonsite meeting that month, and this was quickly followed by posts by Eleni Stecoupolos, Patrick Durgin and Robert Kocik (excerpts of which appear below). This immediately suggested the sort of traction necessary to sustain some generative work around Poetics and Disablement. Thom’s talk last nite no doubt extended this, pointing toward areas for further research, collaboration and event planning. (The text of Thom’s talk will be forthcoming here).
I’m wondering if the following notes can contribute to the process of generating a description for such a curriculum, which will require some collaborative writing. Please respond with ideas/suggestions as to how we might amend this proposal, as well as any thoughts about how such a project might take shape: reading groups, events, discussions.
Poetics of Disablement: Notes//July 23, 2008
“My sense of community began to take on the limitations of real bodies.”
--Bruce Boone, from *Century of Clouds*
It’s always the body that promises our relations, while severely limiting them. The body is always a limit: promising communion, while disabling that communion in advance. And if the body is the horizon of what can be said and experienced, the life of any community is always constrained by the lived realities of whatever bodies comprise it.
How do we live those limits differently? How do we talk about those bodies and perform those realities in such a way so as not to reiterate those limits and their corresponding social constraints, but rather to trans-form them?
My longing to relate and to be related to runs thru all of yr bodies, if only because I want you to care for me: in opening my self and my body to care, I imagine making myself “patient.” As the inverse of an over-valued, able-bodied agency, “patiency” becomes agency’s complement, which is anything but a submission to passivity.
The patient overturns our understanding of the passive, by becoming able otherwise.
De-activating our ability to behave instrumentally for socially over-coded ends, discharging our function as meaningful agents, we might take leave of that submission by yielding to the promise of unanticipated care (an idea inspired by Robert Kocik). In other words, rather than submitting to our disciplined training to expect hostility, we might become patients, whose unexpected receptivity to a disabled social ecology moves one toward doing what can’t be done within any given field of pre-coded possibles. This is the power of our im-potence in a situation that detrimentally determines our abilities, whose limits are given in advance.
"Ability" and "disability" are already compromised terms. Nevertheless, they inform and impact the shape of our thought, which materializes thru restricted forms, and whatever resistance to those forms. These are constraints that have become our consciousness of ABLENESS: able-bodiness, fitness, ecological success. And yet, these constraints — limitations on our ability to move, think and speak — disable us in the name of ability itself: the rule bound terms of social selection which are anything but natural. So what would it look like, as both social and aesthetic practice, to “overcome fitness” (Robert Kocik’s term) — together with the over-valuation of so-called able-bodied agency. What would it look like in practice, to affirm that we still don’t even know what a body can do? How do we explore the relation between poetics and the exceptional capacities, aptitudes, and senses that every body potentiates and acquires when charged to overcome the so-called fitness for life that underwrites normative social ecologies. How might artistic practice, as it converges with social practice more generally, potentiate the undoing of biopower that has hard-wired dead language (“disability”) to the body?
--RH
What follows are some excerpts from the the discussion on poetics and disability as it has emerged thus far:
Amber Di Pietra:
“In conventional literature, disability is shackled to outmoded tropes (the saccharine triumph stories and the throwbacks to telethon pity). It goes without saying that experimental poetry can do better—but what does such a poetics have to gain by examining and embracing disability studies? How can we have a dialogue around disability and poetics, not just at the political or social level, but at a generative level--one that begets new experiments in writing? To live with or study disability is to be constantly questioning form and constantly working toward formal innovation—whether that is through accessible architecture or the far reaches of cyber humanity. How can this be translated to syntax and the raw stuff of poetry?"
From Eleni Stecopoulos
"It seems to me there’s little consciousness of the difference of bodies, in terms of disability, and sensitivity, and illness, and conditions—-and how these differences can be both subject to, as well as transform, factors like access and form. Access, movement, form, symmetry are seen as transparent; anything that might diverge from the assumed forms gets rendered as invisible. It’s the aesthetics that, perhaps most tragically, are invisible—-what aesthetic challenges and innovation arise from conditions. We will all become disabled at some point. Constraints lead to rather than impede aesthetics. That’s not to say that art is a symptom or a product of the condition, but it does mean that conditions and aesthetics are sympathetic and this sympathy generates experiments and evolutions and revisions and reconfigurations."
From Patrick Durgin:
"I think it's important for 'crip culture' and the rest of 'us' to witness that the issues that many radical modernist poets work through are sophisticated renderings of issues at the heart of disability studies. In other words, disability culture needs to historicize itself with a wider lens.
Physical impairment is not reductive. It is reductive, though, to define 'impairment' on the basis of existing notions of the physical, especially since the going model of disability is the 'social' model, and there is already a vocal minority within disability studies and the DRM concerned with notions of the psyche. Hence, 'psycho-social' disability is a timely way to call for definitions of "embodiment" and subsequently 'impairment.' In short, the focus on physical impairment has become reductive."
From Robert Kocik:
“If you’re looking at your hand, it’s hard to reach for an object. Without reaching for an object, it’s hard to know where your hand actually is. If you have to look at your hand as you reach for an object, you’re still disabled.”
“I think disability is shared because ability is so extremely unexplored that we have no reference. (The alien uniting all humanity as one—our own risen humanity!) Ability viewed as some ‘norm’ is certainly necrotic.”
“The predicament of poetics engaged with disability theory: how to not cause further harm. If our bodies and our works are not experienced as epiphenomena of the unmade (assuming the inverse), living and working is unaesthetic and terminal. Impractical is the norm. I’m considering calling the norm eternal disability.”
- Rob Halpern's blog
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Potluck Report
Thom made a disclaimer last night at the beginning of his talk, so I feel permission to do so at the beginning of my report. I'm a composer (amongst other things) and this report will reference that perspective. I feel the need to explain this a bit because I am new to the collective and also because of an experience performing on a reading with poets from the Naropa summer writing program in Boulder a couple weeks ago. Myself, my musical collaborator, and the organizer of the show were all excited about inserting our performance into the context of a poetry reading, but with very few exceptions the poets didn't seem to understand. For whatever reason (and I can only speculate), the majority of the poets left immediately when it became clear that our performance was not poetry, but music. I have taken this as a cue to be more cautious in the future about assuming that the interests of unknown artistic communities will be as fervently interdisciplinary as mine. I hope that my comments relating to music below will be relevant, and I trust that you will make analogies to poetry/poetics (or your own practice/discipline, whatever it may be) for yourself. This is the rambling report of a sympathetic musician-outsider.
I'd like to start by elaborating on the notion of American minimalism (Glass, Reich) as a music of healing: Healing themselves by writing music that they (and their friends) could play, not hired/professional/trained/virtuosic performers. In the process creating a new virtuosity (staggering seamlessly for endurance, tight discipline of micro-rhythm for phasing patterns, sustained attention). Also healing us as listeners by offering up a music that reveals its own process/form (see Reich's essay Music as Gradual Process) in response to the impenetrable forms of serial music. Taking cues from rock music: catchy hooks that reappear in your mind days, months, years later (a riff from Music for 18 Musicians pops into my head at this moment) and let us know that we understand what's going on. When themes develop or return we can actually hear it on the first listen. This makes us feel included/literate rather than excluded/illiterate/dissabled/untrained. Doing away with the idea that ear training or familiarity with the canon are necessary pre-requisites for accessing serious/art music.
On virutosity: Is disability entirely a function of context? In music school I was one of the slower students in theory class, but I've found myself in plenty of other situations where I'm the sole expert on the subject. In the context of contemporary dance I generally feel pretty good about my ability to write, but in this context I feel tempted to preface my post with a second disclaimer that I am a "non-writer." Kitchens in this country that make me feel short (I'm just under 5'7"), constantly in need of a step stool, but I certainly never felt that way during a recent trip to Taiwan. My dermatologist uncle once offered my father and I medication to treat our inability to grow hair on the tops of our heads. When I was three or four years old a teacher told my mother that my hands were too small to start playing piano, resulting in a six-year delay in the beginning of my serious musical training and, eventually, my difficulty in college music theory.
(As a short, bald composer with only good--not excellent--skill in the traditional craft of music) I am currently (naturally) interested in writing music for "untrained" performers. And I may (as a "non-poet") need your help with some words to describe what I'm doing. Because when I say "untrained" I really mean something more like "not necessarily trained in any particular discipline." A recent choir for a vocal performance consisted of four composers, four dancers, a classically trained singer, an installation artist, a set designer, a sociologist, and a drummer. Other recent choirs have consisted of anyone who happened to be in the audience at a particular event, encompassing a much wider variety of backgrounds and interests.
The interest here is to disrupt the inertia of our dead languages(and here I hope I'm understanding Haplern's use of "dead language" correctly)/practices through enforcing at the very least a diversity of languages/practices. The diverse ensemble forces the score to explain and re-xplain its terms rather than relying predominantly on some assumed background. In fact, it becomes less a score in the sense of a fixed object and more a process, a conversation, a shared experience. I've started investigating the possibilities of text as music notation because the pool of possible performers/participants who read english is much larger/more diverse than the pool who read any particular brand of music notation (inventing ones own notation from scratch has its own problems). And my use of text is becoming increasingly literal rather than abstract/descriptive. I'm interested in broad accessibility.
Rather than "untrained" or "not-necessarily-trained" I've taken to using words like interdisciplinary, undisciplined, and "audience participation." Should I consider referring to performers/audience as disabled? Or as patients? Do I want to identify my practice as music therapy rather than music composition? My current favorite descriptor is "community band" --suggesting purposeful amateurism as well the primacy of the social aspect. The ensemble is, after all, usually just friends and friends of friends.
I believe there was once a time, before the radio and the phonograph, when everyone used to sing. We all still needed music just as much as we do now, if not more, and if we wanted to hear it, we had to sing it ourselves. When did we start thinking of ourselves as musically disabled? And why? Is this just one example of a broader trend of the accelerating hyper-specialization of modern life robbing us of our agency, of the multitude of possible experiences (the body's undiscovered abilities)? Modern auto technology makes it impossible to fix our own cars without expensive computer diagnostic gear. Automatic transmissions lead us to believe that we are no longer able to drive stick. Cars tell us that we can no longer walk. (I told a friend that I walked two miles to get to the store the other day, despite the fact that I own a car, and she looked at me like I was crazy.) Television reduces our confidence in our ability to think for ourselves. Hollywood movies make the stories of our own lives seem inadequate. Mass-produced clothing makes home-made garments look shabby. The same for mega-agriculture and processed food. Is DIY choosing disability? Choosing to do things that, according to social norms, you're not exactly the best at? Doing for doing's sake rather than success?
By choosing to walk am I a disabled motorist? By learning to sing a song rather than flipping on the radio am I choosing a life of musical disability? In writing this report am I a disabled journalist?
To Do No Further Harm: Poetics and Disability
Here is a rambly response in which I tell you that I am trading verbal virtuosity for the slapdash so that I can maximize the mileage on my eyes et al (my various visual impairments and my need for tremendous amounts of rest, hence not being online till all hours) but in which I mostly mean to take care of some “material realities”. Read: those were my disclaimers. This is undoubtedly, a response in which I make many typos, as my eyes are wont to permit.
I think the notion of patiency (Rob) and purposeful amateurism (Chris) are lovely and exciting inroads to an exploration of disability and poetics and I would like to see them furthered. But I have to say, these ideas make me nervous for fear that they will proceed in a certain direction. Mainly, it is a fear of parsing this term “disability” too much in the effort to take the negative charge out of the word, in the effort to make the point that the by virtue of the fact that no one is truly normal and that everyone has varying abilities, no one can be said to be truly disabled.
This is, of course, true in the most fundamental sense, but I want to maintain, at least at this point in the formation of this discussion among this group, that the word disabled is necessary and powerful, if only in principle.
It serves to remind us that there is a group of people who are not equipped to get by in society in the same way that other members of society are. They come against barriers in some of the most basic and pervasive of social frameworks. These are barriers that are structural (stairs, broken down lifts on MUNI buses, cars blocking curb cuts), programmatic (in health care, in education) and economic (largely because of the difficulty that arises from getting an education adapted to one’s special needs or the difficulties that arise in getting to and from work or getting the healthcare one needs through private insurance). These people are dis-abled by societal structures in a way that cannot be compared to race, class, or physiological quirks but rather, the distinct differences in their physical or mental bodies.
The problem with the word “patient’ and the phrase “purposeful amateurism” is that a large portion of people with disabilities have permanent deformities or chronic illnesses and they are neither waiting nor wanting to be healed. They are seeking new ways to evolve, to achieve a kind of mutant virtuosity. To say, “I am disabled” in the able-bodied world means not a resignation to dead language imposed upon one by an able-bodied culture. It simply conveys a kind of neutrality tinged with protest (in protest of the cult of thriving by average standards). It means, “I am broken down, I am transforming.” I am very wary of detracting from the impact of that word as the disabled community has recently come to use it.
And, to get too lost in the semantics of “disability” is to look away from the “material realities” as Jen said last night. What I mean is that I don’t think the idea of patiency and purposeful amateurism should be avoided, but rather that one must not extrapolate too far from those notions in the effort to make a connection between ability and disability. Rather, the way to make the connection is to dive into the particularity of each author’s relationship to their own body in language. Disability is a kind of fun house mirror. One looks into it and sees their own shape changed, their different parts enlarged or shrunk out of proportion. This is true of the able-bodied person looking into the mirror of disability or the disabled person looking into the mirror of their own social and ontological (at least in this reality) status.
There must be more looking before there is defining. Yes, please stare at the midgets and limpers and the people talking to themselves on the bus. But not as in spectacle. As participatory inquiry, as partners in exploration. Which brings me back around to why Rob’s idea of caring-for and the mode of audience participation according to Chris could be so useful in the practice of poetics and disability. How does one connect to (care for) the gestural language of another body, to read it and find it interpretable unto oneself while still honoring the integrity/needs of that other body? How can we actively (as in music-making which is done, arguably, with more of the body than writing usually is) invert the roles in which disabled people are in the spotlight due to their obvious abnormalities, but the able-bodied, by ease of action, get to steal the show?
A couple more points in what I regard as “practicalities” before I go on to another kind of post on another night.
First, Thom made a comment that Larry Eigner and Hannah Weiner were among the very few disabled poets he knew of. I’d like to add Josephine Miles to that. But, it is true; there are very few well-known disabled poets. Meanwhile, there is a veritable explosion of disabled poets and performance artists and dancers doing work right here in the Bay Area. It may be problematic that the work they make is generally outside of the aesthetic camps Nonsite is made up of, but it must be considered in some way.
It is uncomfortable to carry on an exploration of poetics and disability without many texts written about or by disabled people to reference. And perhaps that is part of the discussion, the whys and where-fors of their scarcity.
Secondly and finally and most imperatively--while I am grateful to Rob and Lee for hosting a very welcoming event last night, it is absolutely necessary that if this curriculum is to continue, events related to it must take place in an accessible space (one without stairs). Otherwise, the whole premise is fatally flawed. Something to be discussed certainly, as it is not an easy accommodation to make, I know.
To Do No Further Harm: Poetics and Disability
I'm greatly looking forward to reading Thom's talk, which I expect to be posted here soon. Meanwhile, I wanted to respond to Amber's report, just briefly. Of course, I don't have much context for replying to the event itself.
The semantic values of "disability" are constantly being debated within disability studies (DS). My sense is that in the disability rights movement (DRM), it is generally used in the sense that Amber wishes to retain; to mark a kind of ontological difference that is hinged to epistemic/ideological barriers (ableism). Its aestheticized form, if you will, has a lot, though not everything, to do with issues of race, class, gender, sexuality, by virtue of the "transgressive reappropriation" of a term with ostensibly negative connotations to mark a point of pride. Whether you think either of these values means disability trumps other identity formations, there is a kind of dependency (in the semantics) that is rhetorical. Rhetoric's traditional "other" is poetics. Its poetic value might be, then, in the syntax of events.
The notion of disability as an identity claim privileged to the point of a utopian non-identity is explored in Lennard Davis' book _Bending Over Backwards_. A great primer on the semantic values of the term "disability" can be found in Simi Linton's _Claiming Disability_. The idea of "transgressive reappropriation" is breifly, though memorably, explored in Mitchell and Snyder's _Narrative Prosthesis_.
Patrick