Any fool can cut a bad line. It takes a real pro to cut a good line.
—Theodore Roethke, quoted in Carolyn Kizer’s foreword to Theodore Roethke on Poetry and Craft (Copper Canyon Press, 2001)
Showing posts with label revision. Show all posts
Showing posts with label revision. Show all posts
the thousand lines
I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare, that in his writing, whatsoever he penned, he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, 'Would he had blotted a thousand,' which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this but for their ignorance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candor, for I loved the man, and do honor his memory on this side idolatry as much as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature; had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that sometime it was necessary he should be stopped. 'Sufflaminandus erat,' as Augustus said of Haterius. His wit was in his own power; would the rule of it had been so too. Many times he fell into those things, could not escape laughter, as when he said in the person of Caesar, one speaking to him: 'Caesar, thou dost me wrong.' He replied: 'Caesar did never wrong but with just cause;' and such like, which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned.
—Ben Jonson, Timber: Or, Discoveries (1630)
—Ben Jonson, Timber: Or, Discoveries (1630)
Labels:
Ben Jonson,
blotted,
friend,
idolatry,
line,
revision,
vices,
virtues,
William Shakespeare
nothing ever finished
Because nothing is ever finished
the painter would shuffle, bonnarding,
into galleries, museums, even the homes of his patrons,
with hidden palette and brush:
overscribble drapery and table with milk jug or fattened pear,
the clabbered, ripening color of second sight.
Though he knew with time the pentimenti rise—
half-visible, half brine-swept fish, their plunged shapes
pocking the mind—toward the end, only revision mattered:
to look again, more deeply, harder, clearer,
the one redemption granted us to ask.
This, we say, is what we meant to say. This. This.
—Jane Hirshfield, from “History as the Painter Bonnard,” The October Palace (Harper Perennial, 1994)
the painter would shuffle, bonnarding,
into galleries, museums, even the homes of his patrons,
with hidden palette and brush:
overscribble drapery and table with milk jug or fattened pear,
the clabbered, ripening color of second sight.
Though he knew with time the pentimenti rise—
half-visible, half brine-swept fish, their plunged shapes
pocking the mind—toward the end, only revision mattered:
to look again, more deeply, harder, clearer,
the one redemption granted us to ask.
This, we say, is what we meant to say. This. This.
—Jane Hirshfield, from “History as the Painter Bonnard,” The October Palace (Harper Perennial, 1994)
Labels:
artist,
Jane Hirshfield,
pentimenti,
Pierre Bonnard,
revision
live and/or die
Famous controversial revision: W.H. Auden changed the last line of his poem "September 1, 1939," from "We must love one another or die" to "We must love one another and die."
Labels:
death,
last line,
literary anecdote,
love,
revision,
W. H. Auden
kintsugi
Kintsugi means "to patch with gold", this Japanese technique is thought to have begun in the late 15th century, after a shogun sent a damaged Chinese tea bowl back to China to be fixed. It was returned held together with ugly metal staples, so Japanese craftsmen developed a way to repair the vessel by mending the cracks ornamentally.
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Labels:
critical terms,
kintsugi,
repair,
revision
inner workings
Filming a scene, there are countless takes of the same incident. Someone watching in the street—obviously a provincial—can’t get over it: “After this, I’ll never go to the movies again.”
One might react similarly with regard to anything whose underside one has seen, whose secret one has seized.
—E.M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born (Arcade, 1998), translated by Richard Howard
One might react similarly with regard to anything whose underside one has seen, whose secret one has seized.
—E.M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born (Arcade, 1998), translated by Richard Howard
Labels:
E. M. Cioran,
film,
inner workings,
revision
revision
Occam's Razor is a logical principle attributed to the mediaeval philosopher William of Occam (or Ockham). The principle states that one should not make more assumptions than the minimum needed. This principle is often called the principle of parsimony. It underlies all scientific modeling and theory building. It admonishes us to choose from a set of otherwise equivalent models of a given phenomenon the simplest one. In any given model, Occam's razor helps us to "shave off" those concepts, variables or constructs that are not really needed to explain the phenomenon. By doing that, developing the model will become much easier, and there is less chance of introducing inconsistencies, ambiguities and redundancies.
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Labels:
critical terms,
Occam's Razor,
revision
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