« The Reason | Main | A Gift, Wrapped In A Gift »
Authentic Creation
By gartenfische | April 21, 2008
Critics slammed Denise Levertov when religion became an obvious element in her poetry in the ’80s. They said she was making her writing inaccessible to readers who didn’t share her religious sensibilities. What an asinine criticism! How could she not write what was inside of her? As she became more religious, naturally, her art reflected that change. If she had shut off her inner voice to please others, her art would have become inauthentic. There are poets of every stripe because there are individuals of every stripe. If a person didn’t like Levertov’s religious poems, they were free not to read them. Criticizing the religion in her poetry was, of course, criticizing her true self—the deepest, realest part of her.
Where does authentic art come from?
In 1955, Flannery O’Connor wrote to a friend, “Ultimately, you write what you can, what God gives you.”*
Writer Andre Dubus,** a devoted Catholic, wrote at the bottom of each page of his writing, “Thank you.”
Thank you, God—I know that I am not the source, but you are; thank you for expressing yourself through me.
In a letter to Elizabeth McKee, O’Connor wrote to a friend:
Let me make no bones about it: I write with a solid belief in all the Christian dogmas. I find that this in no way limits my freedom as a writer and that it increases rather than decreases my vision. It is popular to believe that in order to see clearly one must believe nothing. This may work well enough if you are observing cells under a microscope. It will not work if you are writing fiction. For the fiction writer, to believe nothing is to see nothing. I don’t write to bring anybody a message, as you know yourself that this is not the purpose of the novelist; but the message I find in the life I see is a moral message.
I think one of the reasons her beliefs increased her vision is that she did not shut out the religious part of her in the interest of pleasing a non-believing literary establishment. She wrote who she was and never apologized for it. Therein lies the seed of authentic art.
Levertov, whose poetry had always reflected her concern with justice, also believed her religion was essential to her art. “In the early 1980s Levertov felt, as she put it later, that a ‘respons-ability’ to our world and our fellow men—particularly the victimized and the poor—requires a religious grounding.”*** This religious grounding was intrinsic to Levertov’s poetry, not just her politics; it was a part of her.
I also suspect that the best art comes from stillness, from silence, because then we are intentionally bringing ourselves closer to our Source: the source of all that is good and meaning-full (not meaning insipid or sentimental).
When our art arises from our true selves communing with God, it is decidedly uninsipid—distinctly not sentimental—meaning real. Why wouldn’t God want us to fully participate in our human reality and to express the truth of that? O’Connor wrote: “I mortally and strongly defend the right of the artist to select a negative aspect of the world to portray and as the world gets more materialistic [this, written in 1956] there will be more such to select from.” In a poem published in 1992, Levertov asked, “Where is the Giver to whom my gratitude/rose? In this emptiness/there seems no Presence.” Doubt and questions are endemic to the religious journey. I don’t believe God is offended at the expression of our frustrations and struggles, at honesty (or I’m in trouble).
I’ve been participating in a poetry workshop for the past month. My poetry may not be great, but it isn’t simply an intellectual exercise. Is painting? Is writing a song? No! Creativity comes from a deeper place than the (left brain) mind or it is stunted. Our creations must come from what is most authentically ourselves. The more we are in touch with who we really are and with our Source, the freer and realer our art will be.
If God created you as an individual, with all your uniqueness and peculiarities, wouldn’t God be pleased when you most truly express the truth that only you—you, in your particular body, in your particular mind and heart and soul—can express? God did not create you to be anybody but you and you are only called to create from the you that God made.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
*From The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor, edited by Sally Fitzgerald. A great read—highly recommended to you writers out there.
**From Wikipedia on Andre Dubus:
Dubus experienced a personal tragedy late on the night of July 23, 1986, when he was seriously injured in a car accident. He was driving from Boston to his home in Haverhill, Massachusetts and he stopped to assist two disabled motorists–brother and sister Luis and Luz Santiago. As Dubus assisted the injured Luz to the side of the highway, an oncoming car swerved and hit them. Luis was killed instantly; Luz survived because Dubus had pushed her out of the way. Dubus himself was critically injured. As a result of the accident, both Dubus’s legs were crushed. His left leg had to be amputated above the knee, and Dubus would eventually lose the use of his right leg. Dubus would spend three painful years undergoing a series of operations, and extensive physical therapy. Despite his efforts to walk with a prosthesis, chronic infections confined him to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life. Dubus continued to battle the physical pains imposed by his condition, and with clinical depression. Over the course of his struggles Dubus’s third wife left him, taking their two young daughters.
To help Dubus with his mounting medical bills, his friends and fellow writers, Kurt Vonnegut and John Updike held a special literary benefit. Dubus was extremely grateful, and his appreciation extended to holding workshops and reading sessions for aspiring writers. Despite these physical, psychological, and emotional difficulties, Dubus continued to write, producing two books of essays and a collection of short stories. He also conducted a weekly writers’ workshop in his home, meeting with a group of young writers, many of whom were teenage girls in a residential program for abused adolescents.
Dubus also found a deeper religious faith at this time. A practicing Catholic all his life, Dubus found that the loss of his mobility drew him closer to God, and renewed his Catholic faith at a deeper, personal level. Those who knew him admired the peace and acceptance he had achieved, as well as his ability to live his life without bitterness or self-pity.
***From ”‘The Servant-Girl at Emmaus (After a Painting by Velazquez)’ Denise Levertov’s Religious Ekphrasis,” by Cristina Giorcelli
Topics: art, God, writing, Christianity |
April 21st, 2008 at 5:22 pm
Oh my - you just take my breath away with your words.
I am short on time but let me say that tears run down my cheeks.
The Habit of Being is one of my favorite books. I wrote about it at my church blog once.
And Levertov- I adore her words.
I did not know that about Dubus. Wow.
You, you I do know about. You are grace expressed in words and images Gartenfische.
More later.
April 21st, 2008 at 8:16 pm
I knew just a little about each one of these writers, and am glad you have filled in the blanks for me, about their faith. I love Denise Levertov’s poetry, and agree that whoever wrote that her poetry became inaccessible was being asinine!
thank you.
April 22nd, 2008 at 2:29 am
Thank you, dear Gartenfische…
I can’t really add to Fran’s words - she’s right, that’s all.
I confess I didn’t know about Dubus either till I read that. But Levertov - she’s irreplaceable - one of my desert island poets!
Blessings on you, always
Mike
April 22nd, 2008 at 6:46 am
Why must some of the most articulate women I will ever read and know live so doggone far from me? How I would love to be able to meet on a Saturday morning to talk to you GF and perhaps Choralgirl and some others, and talk poetry, faith, and whatever else God presents to us. I am inspired now to write about writers and poets and to share their works with all who would read…maybe its the therapy I have needed [you too Lisa F], to rise above the desert sands and hover there, unincumbered at last…namaste’ my dear GF.
April 22nd, 2008 at 11:13 am
Everyone has already written what I would write. Ditto. You keep teaching me so much. I am grateful for these authors. In a silly way, I am glad that Kurt Vonnegut was kind about Dubus, whom I’d never heard of before. Thank you for your writing that comes from that deep place within and is inspired by God. I’d like to see some of your poetry, too.
April 22nd, 2008 at 1:19 pm
Thank you, all of you. Aren’t authentic writers a wonderful gift to us all? Levertov, O’Connor, Dubus—and all the others. What beauty God gives to us through one another.
Thank you to each of you for being here, for being a friend on the journey. Blessings and hugs.
Oh Catherine, I would love to get together over a cup of tea! Jan and I have wished that, too. I guess the Internet is next best—it’s brought us together, albeit in a very limited way.
April 22nd, 2008 at 4:49 pm
I remember studying Levertov in college but it must have been her earlier, pre-religious work. It is so interesting to read about how faith inspires all of these writers and how they see their creations coming from God.
April 23rd, 2008 at 10:22 am
Wow, you rock, girl! Yes, authenticity is key to realizing your human-ness, I believe. Thanks for putting this into such beautiful words.
And yes, for all intents and purposes, and according to five pee sticks, I’m pregnant. That’s authentic, too.
April 24th, 2008 at 1:09 pm
Charlotte, Yes, I would say that is authentic!
Wow.
April 26th, 2008 at 7:46 am
Your words about this aspect of others’ writings radiate an acceptance, mirror the wonder, and express gratitude for the Life given to us, even as the gritty dysfunction and moral turpitude of O’Connor’s world conveys to me the beauty of Absolute Truth.
Being ill-educated, I haven’t read any Dubus or Levertov; thanks for bringing them to my attention so I can remedy that.
April 26th, 2008 at 10:04 am
Dear Cunning, thank you. I hope I don’t sound like I mean to say I am educated. I most definitely am not. There are so many holes in my education I think I’ll never be able to plug them all. But I love words and language. I love good writing.
April 28th, 2008 at 4:12 am
Thank you so much, Gartenfische,
I don’t know these writers but will def look them up.
Would really like to see some of your writing from the workshop if that’s possible? Only asking because I do love your prose & your taste in poetry, so putting the two together…
April 28th, 2008 at 5:30 pm
Ovidia,
Aack! I feel so dissatisfied with my supposed poetry lately. What I am realizing is that I have to stop being lazy and make the effort to learn more. I need to study. Put up or shut up, basically.
In my creative writing and literature clases in college, we did not study poetry. I love, love, love it, but I’m basically a poetry dunce. I think I have good sense for words and how they sound and sometimes they come together in surprising and wonderful ways, so I think I can do it, but I need to work on it.
Any suggestions?!