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.
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