Chopin was a leading artist in France in the fifties with work incorporating concrete and sound poetry. Yet the exhibition was quiet, not just because I was on my own – but Chopin’s sound works weren’t present. The only energy in the room existed in the inherent power of Chopin’s use of language, exploiting the typographic possibilities of letterforms on a typewriter, Chopin exposes the beginnings of the mechanical reproduction of language.
The true purpose of poetry is to be read aloud – to be experienced – to heard, understanding is optional – participating essential. There was a potent lack of passion as Chopin’s tightly worked typewritten pieces are restricted by museum-like clinical vitrines and formed around an artificial environment.