Preface

“Art is interpretation.


Art is chaos.


Art is an attempt to stop time (It is futile).

The art of poetry is not a high and mighty thing. It is, rather, an act of spilling - the - tea. That which prose covers up easily, poetry never spares. A tumbling of rhymes is its nature: a rolling of thunder, for the emotion is raw and urgent.

The teenage life has no lack of such turbulent emotions. But I cannot generalize my reality to that of “teenagers” as a whole. I am, perhaps, more sensitive to flaw; a little inconsistency tickles me, and I would not stop until I am heard.

At a point in my student career I became deeply disturbed by the absurdity of our educational values; the hyper - competitive environment in the academic and social arena put individual freedom and even familial love at risk. Around people, I held multiple personas, yet a minute or two of solitude put me into the role of a tragic hero; it led me into a spiral of intense questions--which I found easier to communicate through poetry.

Poetry freed me from my mind. It allowed thoughts to blossom into a solid creation. A text, a word, a flicker in the dark--all can be romanticized. It imagined a world more perfect, an air more romantic than the one we breathe.

I recently heard a commentary on a singer, “she lives in her art; and when she does get down to the world for interviews, it gets messy, because she does not belong in it; the world has disappointed her, so she has created her own”.

This statement is only partially true. The artist not only creates, but also challenges. I knew I was challenging my society, my relationships, and myself. I also knew I needed to be heard. I do not want to inspire hate for this world; though a little doubt, I believe, is critical to make changes for the better.

Oscar Wilde says that art is created for the sake of art.


Yet Confucius taught that art should be “constructive”, that it should balance the urge for expression with temperance, ultimately delivering a positive message. In an attempt to unite the two aims, I hope my words can stay true to me while illuminating some reflection and--dare I say--inspiration, upon your own reality.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

At least a billion writers have written on this topic, so I started into this feeling a bit jaded, partly becuz it's a little crazy to try to define the poetic (or artistic) journey (even tho I've tried, like everyone else), and partly becuz of your age. This piece of intelligence shows so much maturity, I'm sorry if I sound demeaning toward young writers, but it's remarkable for you to have such keen insight at your age.

This is interesting & thought-provoking & balanced. The most amazing thing -- you manage to define poetry in a way that's wide-open enuf to encompass most writers. Many times a writer will define writing without being aware that this view is mainly his/her own. But I'm truly stunned by your ability to define a thing as nebulous & all-encompassing as poetry/art without making this common mistake. This is the kind of objective maturity that lots of writers never gain, even after a lifetime of writing.

I was honestly too distracted today to dive into a book review, but here I was surprisingly refreshed by your first installment (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[emipoemi]

I dig this preface. I can get behind this preface. For someone your age, I'm surprised that you have this mentality, as I've not seen it too often among that demographic. But all I can hope is that your poetry is as powerful as your preface - having read the first part of your novel, I'm not concerned about that, but it does mean that expectations are exponential (though I'd still like to talk more about the values of poetry with you, as by this "essay" so to speak, you seem to understand what's what).

Suerte,
EDP