Enjoy.
Interview with Juan Carlos Mestre
cultural, cultural space of the English Court
MARTA ACUTE
MA Before begin, I have to congratulate you for your wonderful book of poems The Red House. Can you summarize your pregnancy, you were aware that was long unpublished and somehow that has conditioned you, for better or for worse, in your writing?
I want to express my gratitude for your generosity. Having said that, I find myself in the cage of the time, I'm closer to the absence and nothingness that the clocks in the sociology of writing. Sometimes I think I write from the nostalgia of the future will not, some from the future of the only certainty of the past. Among the tons of thought of what one reads, there is the fleeting nature of a dialogue, one is inserted in it, more like a voice without a mouth like a star singled out the scene. There's no script, no mandatory, no map that will lead you into the Treasure Island nonexistent. Vigilance against the empty, dim beacons to guide the wreck of reason. That's all, doubt and not knowing, having resigned before being led to any exercise that involves some degree of aesthetic authority, that centuries-old plague descending on the museum of opera. A book of poems is done alone, it builds from there into a minority against the majority will of the intentions learned obedience from the literature.
It combines your epic and surreal tone more common with a new one based on the investigation of the colloquial, the irony with the surrounding reality. How do I get to write poems like "Remains full", "cafe", "Mcsonet" or "Instructions to call the mobile phone of eternity? Do you have a hard time taking this shift towards closer to the poetry of Jorge Riechmann?
JCM surreal tone "? What is Surrealism but an invention of the inquisitors of the imagination? There, there, there will be another way of being in the world, to understand the poetic act outside the canonical models of discourses of power, a groove out of the predictable, a will of heresy against the dogma of the obligation. Surrealism If we understand the complaint of the great scam of the legal texts that determine the legitimacy of every free act of thought, I welcome the tone of the incommunicable. I bit, but certainly more in the action of conscience in the formulation of its style. Poetry is conflict between the languages \u200b\u200bof human refinement and cruelty embarrassing publicity. It is the writer coming to alter the logic of the cases, but the text that reveals the areas of the setback, the hidden similarities between real unknown and the figures of the obvious reason. There is written, is written by the opposite of what will many times is intended to mean, the irony of the paradox, the rebelliousness of poetry to the usual habits. Look, I do not dare to almost nothing, but almost all dares to approach me and make me wake up from the head. Live the experience, not the story lyrically, and what remains, if anything survives the adventure of this enigma, are "full leftovers" of the imagination, what remains as wages sleep the beggar, the prostitute or poet. To me the intelligence of my friend Jorge Riechmann has ever given me not fear, but pleasure. I reserve my fear for the hypothesis of the resurrection.
said this because in several poems, for example, "happens" type "your way" but then you end up with the colloquial register. Can be read as a sense of loss expressed in statements like "write me off the little enthusiasm left for me to the concrete?
JCM One goes to the poem without knowing what will be, how deep will the arms will tend to hope, always critical of the night. People talk, but no one talks like one, emphasis, monosyllables, solemnities, frugality ... A book of poems could be a toolbox at the service of the consciousness of another, an "other" in which the poet that being completely devoid of identity, such as John Keats thought, is as many as possible be in the moment of identification, stone silent, suffering to the victim or momentary in duration. Any form of poetry involves some degree of regret for not knowing how to talk to the invisible in the moment of need, it might be dumb, but there is also room for the language of persuasion, for the enjoyment of the games with other deadly jacks thought that figure in writing certain illusion of civilization against barbarism. Hence possibly the lack of enthusiasm for what you mean. Little can be done, if not continue to resist, the five vowels of the alphabet against prosody Speaker of war, against the new slavery of consumption and violent archetypes of the globalization of all the costumes of ideological violence.
MA In line with what you mention, the reader is in The red house with a book that exudes a poetic social criticism, both capitalism (the bourgeoisie, the eradication of poetry as a way of life , etc.) and large failed utopias (including communism). In a few steps below also make reference to your despair at the poetry and its periphery, that is, this world of false "comrades" scholars and critics.
JCM
Far from me the intention to raise the prophets. Trying to say that every spell has ended, and via reverse speech Toni Negri, the realm of possibility is no longer in the hands of the sublime rhetoric or weak thinking of acts of force that lead to indifference, to is the same as a pair of boots that Shakespeare used the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that the Decree of the Aliens Act. There are degrees of quality, clear links between the different banality and necessity, between the values \u200b\u200bof dignity and the glorification of war criminal. When Oscar Wilde meant that more often unforgiving society the criminal, but no apology ever the dreamer, which was pointing out is just the downfall of poetry as conduct that should not be confused with an example. Conduct language to the north of the future, an excavation in the danger zone of consciousness where one day be unnecessary for each day take revenge on the former. The contemporary poet has to sell its certainties to acquire astonishment, admiration of the defenseless human being, the ultimate recipient of any act of speech. Of course I'm closer to stateless persons the ministers of interior, to the magical singing Nahualts than the epic of the musketeers, closer to Karl Marx and Walt Whitman witchcraft that we have left the doors of the house of happiness unredeemed consciousness of millions of people thrown into the mass grave for authoritarianism. The history of poetry is also the story of these testimonies, witness, keeping immaculate and pure smile of the dead is a moral duty of poetry, a charge that no one has done so, and therefore not taxable in the road no service. The failure of certain utopias are also an intelligence failure as text, but poetry replaces resigned his visions of "nowhere" by the anticipation of future nostalgia, ie "no place yet," the language crisis advancing, receding, which is wrong. My mistake is this, I have chosen, I heard the song of the ancestors of sleep.
MA If we return to the poetic world that we had used, your pleasure liturgy of the word, can you talk about your influence in the Torah as a source of inspiration?
I have imported the forms of ritual and liturgical orbs. Yes, absolutely, the immanence of the word, the gravity of his presence in the conception of poetry as a spiritual project, closer to the cabal that linguistics so far from the philological and literary as close to any of the forms of mediation with the sacred, whatever it is sacred to each of us. The Torah is the book, the setting of the voice in writing, what heard, listened to, the return of the word as a consolation after the loss of paradise. Start talking is also leaving the initial state of innocence, begin to interpret in terms of speaking the link with the love and grief, integrate the existence of the steep, pursuing the ancestry of the term. Possibly produce weapons a warrior society, as religious relics that are generated. A society based on culture book does not necessarily ensure mercy and compassion, but is more likely to banish the worship of the spectra of the uncanny.
MA in certain sacred books realizes generations and generations that preceded us, that is, it is understood that the past strengthens the present and vice versa, "Frederick Engels seduced." So, you have been Ledo Ivo, "the infidel", Izet Zarajlic, Pasternak ... Only you conceive as a succession of personalities you invent? "They sense, moreover, and somehow, the future?
JCM Neither one nor the other. I have no personality, fortunately, also has run time of the soothsayers. The apparitions that cross the bedrooms of the house red are called from an old alliance, the fervor of my readings, the company of accomplices in the assembly of friendship and links. I am particularly interested in poetry that provides a break with the logic of the predictable, the search and the postponement of their findings, the link to the puzzle. "Just how hard is encouraging," said Lezama Lima. What is encouraging in this case are perhaps the debts of the difficulty, the degree of resistance to the pragmatic knowledge and rationality that has banished obsessive knowledge intuitive, the probability quantum random, the probability of "still possible" to the poetic. Yes, the hard part, as "real movement that destroys the status quo" and did not say Breton, said Karl Marx, and some centuries before they understood San Juan de la Cruz and poets Nahualts. Poetry as a premonition that the difficulty of the future challenges.
MA often resort to short story. Beginnings as "The Holy Spirit criminal friends are guilty of anything," "Once upon a time a boy," came to me uninvited and said, 'Sit' " will give rise to the imaginative deployment is all your poetry. How many Mestres are able to invent, why this desire to become theatrical star of another story, "the former existence present in time future, [that] results in fatigue," ?
I have not written a single line that did not have to do with my life experience, are not imaginative acts related to the literary imagination at all, are central episodes of my own life, I've had friends in the prison of the Holy Spirit, I was that boy who was selling souvenirs at the port to pay for college. I did not need to invent a life and I'm sorry, the resources of imagination I have no doubt helped make it bearable fatigue. Tired, it is clear that the poet has always been guilty of all, what it does and what does not do, but guilty of himself, and that, at least, it becomes his own hero, a sort a taxi driver who takes people where to go, to that place where the poem aims to help every human being to live his own life. But life is ode, but also theater, and elegy and satire. Life, Whitman said the thing that we had plenty of death. No appeal of poetry is made this to honor, to dignify, to ennoble the human condition will unnecessary.
your text shows a strong personal confrontation with the rest of reality. In many poems describe it: "The tree you saw child screams grow in the sawmill / Y natal houses collapse in rain. / / The parishioners discussed in the canteen on the roundness of the Earth (...) The mothers continue shelling peas on the gravestones, and then see the "I" as a person who provides, judges, and, especially, feels: "I hear the bells in the center of the world / While the native houses collapse in rain? "
Memory, memory, and memory. There is nothing that presence that has not been invited always takes place on the scale of consciousness. My people, in the paraphrase of a magnificent poem of Antonio Gamoneda, has a cemetery too big. Not so many people wanted us during times of hardship and silence, the poets speak to a crowd that does not exist, turn in the sky like cows Chagall blue fiddling despise Utility Commissioners.
At the same time, interestingly, the figure of the poet appears often tainted by a heavy load of guilt, pending permission for who they are. For example, in uppercase poem "The lure of the Dragonfly", "I had a dragonfly in the heart as others have a home / to the seed that flatter the eyes. Truly / species of truth are hard to believe things, and ask for forgiveness then be true to yourself, "I just had a dragonfly in the heart as brothers of vertigo? Why?
JCM do not know, there are many things that I know nothing about my poetry. Does not matter. Walter Benjamin said that what is now understood one day it will be understood with the same ease with which children understand the language of the birds in the morning on Sundays. The poem asks questions, not provide answers, leave footprints, white pebbles to mark the days that we survived the anguish or have held the existence of love in cordiality. I know no more, that's all.
MA resource that you use the chant, a constant repetition, is because so you can bring together different realities in the same poem, thanks to the "prosperity of the repetitions, the permanent metamorphosis "which end in" nothing "as in the poem of the same name, or the desire to sample the unfathomable richness of reality?
JCM I thought little in the writing of the metaphor, those words with the soles combed old custom, which only change the realities of site, the more I like to write about a metamorphosis that will transform, developed, meaning the future. It is in reruns, in the persuasive mantra prayer, to the prosperity of its echo where the voice that never answers we ever hear us. All our interior world is reality, perhaps more real than the external world and demonstrably hyper. I have often thought that perhaps poetry is the awareness of something that can not be aware of any other way closed to experience another kind of knowledge, that which, unnoticed after the appearance of things, lets us see the other quantum flow of elementary particles of thought, the ancestry of the dreams, that intuition that allows us to keep believing that the lonely parliaments of responsibility the only prohibition is to be legitimate prohibition of suffering.
MA ... You are true to the tradition of the poet's friendship with the homeless, with marginal ...
JCM live in dystopia, in the opposite of what might have been existence in the right place. This and nothing else is on our mind the reality of the unlucky, the sociology of the negative cauterizing the wounds that did not promise us the reason. The common heritage of the dream conceived by Thomas More is now a quarry of corpses, a census can not be assimilated citizens seeking face. The unthinkable has happened in the best of all possible worlds. Here, about trying to name words that happiness could only account for a subjugated history for their loyalty to the crimes, usury, authoritarianism, denial of equality, slavery of capitalism. In today's society the Thought Police, the monopoly of Truth and Theology Market have reached their ultimate objectives. The myth of paradise has devoured its own heroes and the "sense for reality as possible" that tells Musil's novel The Man Without Qualities, seems to be today what Cioran calls "routine sclerosis, a submission to the predictable and the paradox of his impeccable folly: the moral destruction of dreams, the tragedy of a society which has gained identity to the extent that denies and repudiates the thought of how it differs. All this may sound pretentious, sure, but would not say infamous, remain silent when faced with barbarism and surrender to the correct rhetoric.
MA At the end of the book contains a series of devastating prose poems that leave the reader "at gun point to the cemetery of the ambiguities." The question is completely naive, but where does comes this series of orphanages, crisis, those "backbone of the suicide bombers" had been warned not to much power in the rest of the pages of The Red House ?
JCM is life, my friend, what happens to his trailer in front of the tomb where the muses of the boys have syllables fingers of death. It is the prose of creatures "Civil word to after the time" I would say my unique, magical and much admired poet Rafael Pérez Estrada. It is my friendship with the hope before closing his eyes.
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