| About Us Snow Monkey Online Archive Books from Ravenna Press |
|
| I asked Fernando Pessoa: "My dear Pessoa,
would you agree that writing is visual? "That's what it is," he said. "But more than writing, reading is visual. As you know, it 's an old story that in order to read, one must first see. "But dear Pessoa, there are such texts that cannot be read even when they are seen." When I said this, he smiled and asked, "Are you speaking of poetry?" "No," I said, "I make no distinction among texts, poetry, novel, short or long fiction, drama, whatever." And when he asked, "So what is it that you mean to say?" I replied that I believe that the attention of literary people on the written text alone, on wanting a text alone on the page, is insufficient in comprehending the totality of what the text contains, and thus is not enough to understanding it in the way that the writer intended. "And however did you come to the notion that every word placed upon a page must be observed, much less observed correctly," asked Pessoa. "I don't know. That's how I've always seen it," I said. "It's obvious that you are not a writer," he said. "I am a writer," I said, "I am known as a novelist and short story writer with many published books." "Tell the truth, are you really a writer?" he asked, and I felt the need to explain, "actually I am a graphic designer and a bit of a photographer. Ever since my infatuation with reading moved me to write, I've been maneuvering between three completely separate occupations. During all this movement, strange questions formed in my head. This is why I came knocking on your door, thinking you might be able to help me." "Lisbon is a tired city, my dear Faruk, and I am the long-since dead poet Fernando Pessoa. Could you find no else's door to knock upon than mine?" asked Pessoa. "I sought out someone close to me, and you were the first who came to mind," I said. "Alright then, what was your question again?" he asked. "I am looking for a way to marry written text and image. But this search does not end with a side by side placement of text and image like we see in books. I want to create a more organic bond between them. I want to create a bond that opens up new planes of reading. Even more, I want to use movement and sound as communicative tools to bring the reader a new dimension of understanding not expected. "I think I understand what you mean," said Pessoa. He stroked his moustache and in a thin voice asked, "do you know of the Internet?" "Of course. It's a tangled information network. There is no way to find anything, and what you do find is of no importance. Besides, it seems a bleak landscape in terms of graphic design. It's a place where anyone and everyone has something to say, it's not for me," I said. To which he replied, "Then you've been looking at it without understanding a thing. Go, take another look. You will see that there are those who've offered solutions to the questions you ask," he said. "But my dear Mr. Pessoa-" "...and perhaps there you'll learn not to run after those who've died," he said and shut his door. Lisbon without Pessoa seemed very old, hot, silent, and white. I returned to Los Angeles without delay, and sat down in front of my computer. I searched the web, not knowing what I was looking for, I wrote a couple of stories, I took a couple of pictures, I worked on a couple of unappealing brochures for a couple of equally unappealing customers. I'd grown accustomed to the Internet, and even more I'd begun to build sites for those very same unappealing customers. In the end, I too decided to make a place for myself there, found a cheap site and called it Locus Novus. It was designed in the simplest format possible, white like Lisbon, I wanted it to be a quiet place. Later, I rediscovered image, sound, movement. Meeting talented writers, I asked them for their work. They trusted me, and gave their texts to me without question, and I put their work to movement, blending it with image and sound and placing it in my new place, at Locus Novus. And as I did all this, I reminded myself that I was a stubborn Modernist, and that I did not need to be taken by the games of postmodernism. |
All materials on this site are © 2003. No materials may be copied, reposted, or reused without written consent of their creator(s). For more information about this site or about Snow Monkey, contact Kathryn Rantala. If this page is not within a frame, go to Snow Monkey's main page.