[In a
recent announcement, which seemed strange even to those of us who
thought we knew him well, our friend & companion in poetry
Heriberto Yépez
announced recently that “the writing project that was Heriberto
Yépez”
had now come to an end and that “Heriberto
Yépez’s oeuvre has concluded.”
Since Heriberto had only turned forty this year, it seemed a little
premature & reminiscent, to me at least, of the “poets of the
no” (the great refuseniks) in Enrique Vila-Matas's masterful
Bartleby
& Co. It
was also enough to set off a new barrage of ad hominem attacks from a
“gruppo” of American poets who had been on Yépez's
case since publication in 2012 of his Empire
of Neomemory,
where he focuses critically, even negatively, on Charles Olson's
northamericanist perspective (a part of Olson's “special view of
history”), taking him seriously enough to place him on a par with
Whitman, Melville & Lawrence, among notable others. I have no sense that
the retirement of Heriberto Yépez as Heriberto Yépez has anything
to do with those attacks, but the two events coming together
encourages me to reconsider the value of Heriberto Yépez and what
his work has meant to me over the fifteen years or more I've known
him. The essay that follows is the first work of his that I
published in Poems
and Poetics
& was an early & tentative expansion of what I had been
calling ethnopoetics
into what he began to redesignate as ethopoetics.
That seemed fair enough to me as a way to keep the discourse
rolling, & I reprint it now as an appreciation of what can open
up by not taking for granted or as gospel the work that comes before
our own. I look forward at the same time to whatever comes next in
Heriberto's work, by whatever name we get to call him – even
perhaps the project we had planned together of a new assemblage that
would bring the poetry of all
the Americas together in a single large anthology or “grand
collage.” (J.R.)]
(A
Pre-Face)
In
the nineties, I-I began translating Jerome Rothenberg’s poetry and
prose and, of course, there I-I found that meaningful word that
appears constantly in his work and maybe sums it up: ethnopoetics
///
The term is not precise—and there’s no reason for it to be
precise—it allows its own rethinking /// One afternoon I-I was
working on the translation and I-I kept making a mistake—a typo
I-I think Americans call that and I-I like writing “typo” by the
way /// Instead of writing etnopoética
(ethnopoetics) I-I repeatedly wrote
etopoética /// The
word was odd and at that time I-I didn’t realized it existed,
though in a curious way the mistake meant—at least meant something
that afternoon and also means something today—and I-I took it as a
clue—and it stuck on my mind for a long time—in my journal I-I
made a note: “etopoética, ¿qué es?”—Ethopoetics, what is it?
.
. . . . . .
(Ethopoetics
Not Just a Lapsus)
Ethnopoetics
has been centered on the techniques on how to produce new kinds of
poetry. Its own consciousness of that involves, of course, how to
transform the poet, thought that hasn’t been its emphasis and I-I
think Rothenberg himself would agree on that.
Some
time ago, teaching at the university where I-I work—and I-I don’t
teach anymore in a text-based traditional way, but more in a way that
I-I can only describe as more on the spot, using ‘academic’
subject matters as pre-texts to invite students to work on themselves
inside and outside class, to make books come alive, and without being
preoccupied with making products such as ‘books’, ‘ideas’ or
‘works’, all of that driven by Mexican and American dreams of
success, career, competition, originality, cleverness, reputation,
copyright, control, and all the other things we all know are insane
but we keep alive in the same degree that we still depend on them to
‘survive’.
I-I
was saying, “some time ago, teaching at the university where I-I
work”, I-I started using Foucault’s later work as a perfect
excuse to invite ‘theory’-driven students—mostly afraid of
their own bodies—to really understand the nature
(change) of philosophy. And for that purpose I-I used Foucault’
seminars about the hermeneutics of subjectitivy. (I-I could use some
other authors, but I-I’ve found Foucault make things easier. They
trust Foucault. I-I use him as a fishhook).
I-I
use, let’s say,
his discussion on how Greek philosophers—though in his view mostly
post-Socratic—which
shows how Aristotelian Foucault still was—taught philosophy and how
philosophy meant then a series of techniques to transform the
individual so he is able to relate himself to the truth. For
example—this is not the place to explain in detail Foucault’s
late research—how parrhesia
was obtained, that is, how to develop a complete freedom of speech, a
capacity to “say everything”, based on the work on oneself, the
care of oneself (epimeleia)
in order to ABANDON SELF-DECEIPT and thus, boldly speak the truth in
a world based on lies, that is, fears. (In spite of Foucault own
fears of stating his position more clearly, because he was afraid of
leaving ‘academia’, ‘philosophy’, ‘university’ and so he
said all of this as
if
it only was what he found out in “scholarly” ways, in
“scientific” ways, not what he personally,
as a wise man in becoming, believed, no... Foucault in that sense
died afraid of abandoning his past identity as a theoretical
post-modern academic and writerly figure. He couldn’t take the
ridicule of attempting to overcome himself.
But
what he unearthed (again) was how to rethink philosophy not as a
discourse-based discipline but as something else: the re-making of
man. A re-making in which parrhesia
for us in the poetics community is a key value, which consists in the
cleansing of the mind of false idols and then and only then,
producing language in unexpected and not always welcomed ways. Or to
explain it a very simple way, how to produce spontaneous
truth.
I-I’m
not innocent of the resonances I-I’m trying to bring here. Not only
in Kerouac’s and Ginsberg’s Buddhist sense but also in earlier
visions of what poetry meant (surrealism’s attempts to remove
everything that blocked—aesthetics, morals and logic—the subject
from understanding reality and also, again, in Situationism, which is
mostly a spiritual discipline, though I-t don’t think Debord fully
realized that). In Foucault’s take on Greek philosophy—not only
based on Pierre Hadot incredible research but also, I-I heavily
suspect though Foucault tries to hide it, in non-Western shamanism
and Buddhism itself and, of very evidently in Marxism (philosophy
defined not as ‘theory’ but as ‘the transformation of the
world’) and psychoanalysis—In Foucault’s take on Greek
philosophy, I-I was saying, philosophy is anthropoeisis, so called it
somehow. Anthropoiesis = the making of man.
Of
course, Foucault’s late work (less known still today than this
earlier books) resonates with what I-I learnt from Matthai and from
reading (enjoying, translating) Rothenberg’s work and with my own
personal experiences with counter-psychotherapy, that is, not how to
‘normalize’ individuals but how to learn how to liberate oneself
from hegemonic “one”self/constructs
and also how to get free from society’s methods of control at all
levels, with which we get caught up in the same degree we still
(mostly in hidden ways) identify with those control-values, even if
(or specially if) we believe we “fight” them.
What
I-I am saying in these last words is that I-I have found out that
writers, artists and intellectuals start as defectors of control but
somehow during the way we generally don’t understood we were
supposed to center our work on curing all our lies, fears, and then
(or during that process) making our work (written or not), because
the aesthetics
mostly follows Ethics.
Understanding
ethics
as
self-construction.
And
so, without curing ourselves, we are now spreading in different ways
the same methods of control that we believe we fight against…
Rimbaud
couldn’t manage the forces he himself unleashed. He gave up and
became himself a slave(rer).
Baudelaire
knew he had to jump into the abyss, but remained in love of hate.
Artaud
didn’t cure himself and so he ended destroying all that was
profound in him through drugs, lies, ego, foolish frenzy, fantasies,
misogyny and even crazy christianism at the end.
Kerouac
had the potential to fulfill his dream of becoming a new kind of
sage, but he never got rid of his childish Catholic dream of being a
perfect saint for mommy and at the same time a big macho American
cowboy-Superman, and so he drowned out in alcohol, the only situation
at the end in which he fantasized he was a free and opened-up Western
male.
Kathy
Acker knew she had to blow up and in many ways she did, but there was
a final step she didn’t take. She loved violence too much.
Debord
knew all but stuck with paranoia and general control, so he projected
all his authoritarian spectacle onto the ‘society’ and couldn’t
manage to work on himself to really get ride of everything he rightly
accused the world.
Foucault
knew in public theory everything he ended up unfulfilling in his
spiritual self.
And
I-I am naming just a few of those more
brave than us!
We
idolize them so what’s similar in us is idolized by others.
Writers,
thinkers, intellectuals, artists, ¡poets! Need to heal themselves
(from themselves) in order to become true visionaries.
We
haven’t done that—that’s the only task that completely matters
right now.
But
what is happening now? In Latin America, in Spain, in Europe, in
China, in Japan, in America, in Russia, in everyplace the human mind
is afraid of being an animal still evolving—and after the big
upheaval we are living a return to the old models of poet as
man-of-letters, and ‘artists’ as man-of-walls, though by way of
post-modern disguises! Deceit yourselves! Or use all your irony or
all your critical theory you can to hide from what you deeply know!
Poets
have to become knowers.
In
this time of total warfare against the planet and humanity—which is
not something we own but something we create—aren’t we suppose to
lead the path into something beyond this cruel order of despair,
poverty and neo-totalitarian control?
Archaic
traditions, from shamanism to Eastern religions, were not perfect or
worked at all—we are the inheritors of their collective
failures—but they knew the end is not to produce things, but to
produce subjects.
All
the great poets have known poetry resides beyond writing, but in
Modern Western cultures such as ours this knowledge is kept bookish,
utopical, dream-like, and romantic, so we can play the game that
consists in not fully accepting that everything we do is really based
on the persecution of truth.
And
I-I mean it in two ways, because that’s how (for us) it is.
Poets
will be considered in the future only the ambivalent forerunners of
now unexpected liberated women and men.
They
will understand how afraid we were.
I-I’m
not saying there’s something fundamentally wrong with poetry, what
I-I’m saying is poetry
can always be more!
(Ethopoetics.
What Is It?)
Etopoética,
no longer an accident. At one point I-I even found it to be a word in
Plutarch. It means “the poetics of ethos”, that is, the making of
ways-of-being. And ethos
meaning there not just one way of being but a more healthier,
open, developed, complex
way of being, which is described by the different schools of ancient
philosophy, and where writing is considered part of epimeleia.
Poetry?
Does it affect anybody? Well, yes, the poet foremost.
Experimentalism
means there to experiment with news ways of life, in which language
techniques play a central role in the transformation of reality.
We
can define poetry as a series
of techniques to construct—or
if you prefer, deconstruct—the
subject
through concrete and various methods that involve voice, body, book,
theory, therapy, vision, tradition and writing.
Understanding
“voice” as the ways in which mind and body materialized, the
patterns in which change interplays with memory.
Understanding
“body” as not just physical body but that other body that Blake
refer to, and also Whitman—and romanticism and avant-gardes in
general—and from my angle Pre-Hispanic thought through notions such
a “nawal”, co-body (co-cuerpo)—that
is, that other body (animal, plant, object, world) that through
chant, writing, love, ritual, mind, vision, ordinary life and
developed spiritualism is allowed to re-unite with our recognizable
(already stable) physical body. Poetics means how to increase/accept
more ‘body’.
Understanding
“book” as a being existing not only in materiality (that which
holds ‘pages’ or can be ‘read’) but also as a symbol of a
‘book’ inside the mind, that crypto-genetic
information (form-giving) that we inherit and construct through out
our lives.
Understanding
“theory” as the intellectual capacity to see what’s
separate—from
‘ordinary world’—the vision of teos,
from theoin,
the divine and, of course, theos,
god(s)). Only later theory was degraded as mere ‘seeing’,
‘thinking’ (rationally), ‘spectacle’ (not only in the Greek
sense but also in Debord’s). Here theory
is understood as the vision
of the sacred.
Understanding
“therapy” as just as what it means “substitute ritual”, that
is, ways of channeling individuals unto their next stage of
development, and doing that inside societies that lost the ritual
methods of helping in that process or inside societies that surpassed
the levels of consciousness that collective ritual could provide.
Understanding
“vision” as the emergence of uponoia,
images made autonomously by the mysterious functioning of the ‘mind’,
which is two (‘female’ and ‘male’ plus ‘one’ (The
‘I-I’)).
Understanding
“tradition” through its missing n,
“trans-dition”, trans-dare,
trans-giving, that is not only the handing down of something that
involves movement, but also the giving-of-how-to-change.
Understanding
“writing” as psyche-making (psychopoetics), as the intervention
on the mind-as-received, psyche-as-given, the modification of
“one-self” (into other-selves) through all kinds of techniques.
Understanding ‘writing’ as a open process of reinventing its
identity, and understanding ‘identity’ in general not as a fixed
list of attributes of something/something, but identity
as a series
of patterns and methods of changing one-another.
Poetry
then means the new-making of oneself.
Poetry
as the practical—not just ‘verbal’ or utopian—invention of
wholeness/otherness. Poet as technicians
of the (sacred) self.
And
poets as proto-poets.
Ethopoetics
as a rewriting not only of ethnopoetics but everything that poetry
has discovered and everything we can find out outside writing.
Ethopoetics as a mutation, an accident after the big accident of the
20th
Century. Ethopoetics as a rewriting of psychoanalysis and
psychotherapy. Ethopoetics as a rewriting of religions and philosophy
and social sciences. Ethopoetics as a way out of the university and
the humanities, all of them part of control, part of ‘discourse’.
Ethopoetics
as the rewriting of the Human animal.
And
if writing as literary craft still is in your mind right now—it
still is in mine—just remember that’s how poetry changes: when
the self modifies itself or is abruptly or slowly modified by some
‘external’ force, the page also mutates.
We
need not to look for ways to (just) ‘change’ the page—the main
goal of the literary world, avant-garde or not—but ways of changing
ourselves
and then, the page, along with other structures, will emerge in
otherness.
And
poetics then will be understood as the techniques to help others that
are seeking/desiring to transform themselves and have a strong
relation to writing.
(And
if somebody has a strong relation to writing, I-I have discovered
that means s(he) wants to rewrite her/himself).
(And
if poetry conceives itself as a way of changing others, that's a
definition that I-I would consider authoritarian—to do something to
somebody else, without their open, free and clear willingness to do
it (for) themselves).
And,
yes, this brings politics into place. Politics understood as the
production
of well-being
inside gatherings,
not just “cities” but everywhere the plural (polis)
exists.
So
by “poetry” I-I just don mean “verse” but the construction
(poiesis) of oneself.
And
how trans-constructing oneself transforms ‘individual’ &
‘world’.
That
is what ethopoetics is. A life-time project. A new science.
I-I
conceived not a new literary style, school of philosophy or a
combination of disciplines, but something beyond all of that, and
maybe, far less recognizable, process-guided, site-specific,
culturally-based, diverse, whose meaning can only be understood at
its end. That’s how I-I see that which through accidents I-I got to
un-cover and dis-cover.
And
that’s how I-I see too the future of poetics as it is today.
I-I
see fear will still dominate the last stage of this pre-human order.
But I-I also see something else, I-I see a higher animal becoming
visible. A general rewriting. A future radical ethopoetics brought by
a collapse, a great unseen accident.
Tijuana
/ 2009
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