poetry in performance
In my recent review of February's Other Room reading I wrote about poetry in performance and said I would revisit the subject. This is that discussion. I will begin by looking briefly my own preferences in order to ensure that my perspective is clear. This is not going to be an impartial overview but a subjective personal overview. The next step is to look at the question of whether to perform or not. I will attempt to do this by looking at what I consider to be the important unique qualities of performance, duration, location, acoustics and audience. The intention is to demonstrate why I believe it is important that performance is taken seriously by anyone reading poetry. I would like to emphasise that I am not proposing that everyone should perform, or that the quality of what is read or performed does not matter. Clearly many people do not want to perform, and presentation should not (and usually will not) hide a lack of substance. I also feel that the majority of poetry is much too dense to be fully apprehended in a single reading, so I am also not proposing that performance is in any way a substitute for any given text.
A quick word on terminology. Throughout this post I refer to performance. I intend the word to cover a wide range of practices from someone reading from a sheet of paper without looking up through to professionally realised multimedia spectacles. What I take them to have in common is the communication of a text to an audience. I have also assumed that audience to be live, that is physically present or otherwise able to provide realtime feedback to the performer. These assumptions are not uncontroversial and can be challenged, but have been made for the sake of simplicity.
It will probably not surprise regular readers that I am very much in favour of performance. This is both from the perspective of being in the audience, and from the perspective of performing. As audience member I find it can illuminate aspects of texts I find hard to grasp on the page, as well as providing entertainment. As performer it is an extension of my creative practice, and a chance to show-off and get feedback. Let's look at each of these a little more closely.
Starting from the perspective of an audience member the first element I identified is probably one of the most troublesome - the illumination of aspects of texts I find hard to grasp on the page. One objection to performance is that where there is a deliberate ambiguity within a written text any performance may have to suggest one reading of that part of the text over another. There is a chance that this favouring of one reading over another can be seen as definitive, especially where the author is also the performer. This seems to be exactly what I mean by 'illumination of aspects of texts I find hard to grasp on the page'. However this is not quite what I meant.
I'm probably not alone in reading poetry - particularly difficult poetry - in a different way to newspaper articles or even the majority of fiction. I may well read through poems in a linear way to begin with but I then flick backwards and forwards comparing different sections of a poem or collection and trying to uncover what it is that interests me so much about the poem. This means that I am perfectly happy that ambiguities are not intended to be resolved, but to swing one way and then another, each time making the poem look slightly different. The performance of a poem then simply offers a single view, and one which cannot be repeated. In fact it will more often not be ambiguities that performance illuminates for me. Not being the most careful reader in the world it is often echoes of meaning or sound between words, repetition of phrases, references to other writers, and deliberate rhythmic effects that I pick up from performances.
This does not remove the objections of course. And there are further concerns that the specific speaking voice of the poet or other performer might shape the audience's perception of the poem, or that the performance draws attention to the poet and their persona rather than to the poetry. This is the concern that I regard as most serious, and which I think can have the most serious consequences for the understanding of a poet's work. While it's not really feasible to prevent the development of a persona it's clear (especially in music and film of the previous century) that there is a potential for performers to be more visible than their work and for their work to be seen through the filter of their projected persona. Those who choose to minimise their persona, or not to perform, or otherwise choose not to project themselves in this way risk their work being marginalised. I'm not sure what the answer to this is, but I think on the whole it's not a desperately pressing problem for the majority of poets. Especially for those in the post-avant/innovative field.
The other major element of performance important to me as an audience member is entertainment. There's not much need to say any more, except that entertainment doesn't have to be ingratiating, condescending or stupid and is often better when it's quite the opposite.
As I mentioned earlier performance is an important part of my creative practice. This is because I tend to regard my work as unfinished - text poems are not so much completed as abandoned, visual poems are often in series and variations on a theme, sound poems are recreated differently every time. One of the reasons for all these tendencies is that my practice is strongly improvisatory, and that I tend to work most effectively in brief concentrated bursts. This is clearly better suited to sound poetry, to a practice centred around performance.
Which is not to say that my sound poetry is normally completely unscripted or made up on the spot. Pieces normally originate either from improvisation or from specifc ideas I'd like to explore, whether properties of a particular sound source, variations on a word, or something less concrete. These are then refined usually by a fairly minimal score or set of indications which is then tested and reduced further. This reduced score then becomes the basis for performances into which additional elements can be introduced, or from which steps can be removed, which can take as much or as little time as seems appropriate, which can be re-ordered, and sometimes abandoned altogether.
This flexibility allows responsiveness to feedback. When I say feedback I mean both the response of whatever audience there is, and the performer's awareness of the space. Do certain sounds seem to get lost? Do others resonate in a much more satisfying way? Are there rattles or other sounds perhaps generated by what the performer is doing? Are there drones or other sounds already in the space that the performer has to compete with, or is able to incorporate? I can list some of these variables readily because they're more tangible and more easily manipulated than the audience response.
The performer's reaction to audience response depends on what their aim is. Are you happy with people laughing or shifting uncomfortably? Do you want to provoke people into storming out? Or perhaps you want to try and help them achieve a trancelike state. Whatever the case may be the performer needs to be able to switch back and forth between concentration on the performance, making sure they are in the right place, and concentration on the space and the audience, monitoring how the performance is actually working.
The distinct element of this feedback is that it is live, decisions are made quickly, and then remade if necessary. This is different from the lengthy process of writing a poem, editing it, perhaps getting further feedback from an editor, and after publication taking on board further comments from critics and readers. One process can take a fraction of a second the other can take years or decades. It also means that the product of each is distinctly different, and suited to the circumstances of its creation. While I enjoy the immediacy of extemporising from a skeletal outline I recognise that there may be shortcomings in the performance that while unimportant during the event can become irritating played back at another time. Likewise a poem that works brilliantly on the page, even one designed to be read aloud, can lose the attention of an audience when performed, and doesn't allow the reader much flexibility.
Perhaps the fundamental reason for performing though, especially in my case, is to show off. Strictly speaking I suppose this is an extension of feedback. But while the elements of feedback previously described are aimed more towards achieving specific effects of sound and reactions from the audience, externally focussed as it were, showing off is more inwardly focussed. That is that the ultimate aim is to get some sort of affirmation or at least response. Again, as with entertainment for the audience, there's no need to say any more on this.
I mentioned at the beginning that I would look at the question of whether to perform or not. I will attempt to do this by looking at what I consider to be the important unique qualities of performance, duration, location, acoustics and audience*. As with everything up to this point this is purely a personal take on performance and I do not expect agreement.
Duration is an easily overlooked but profound difference between poetry on the page and poetry in performance. Simply reading poetry quietly from the page without pausing or rereading sections can be accomplished much more quickly than a poem can be performed. Generally though a performance of a poem will take less time than reading the poem from the page. In this sense at least 'duration' should perhaps be 'duration and unrepeatability'. As already mentioned with a poem on the page the reader can flick backwards and forwards, can reread a section as often as they choose, and can compare parts of a poem, poems in the same book, or parts of poems from a variety of books. Essentially the reader is not tied to chronology or duration. The audience for a performance on the other hand are very much subject to both chronology and duration - the relative relationships in time of each element of the poem.
This makes the duration of a piece, the ordering of elements within that piece, and perhaps the passage of time represented by the piece elements with which the performer can play. It can also make performances, especially lengthy readings of dense or complicated text, indigestible or even impossible for the audience to follow. Attention wanders. It is not necessarily a deficiency of the audience if they are bored or just mystified by an unmoderated presentation of material that in large part depends on them being able to interrogate the text. During a performance you do not have time to interrogate the text. Which is not the same as saying that poetry specifically created for (or during) performance is less sophisticated or worth less than text poetry. It is saying that they are distinct and achieve their goals by different means.
Location covers a range of different things. There is the fact that you are not normally sat at home reading a book while attending or delivering a live performance. There is the fact, which will be expanded on later, that generally a group of people gather in a single place for live performance. That is, it is a social activity, and the venue is generally a public meeting or recreational space. This means that the majority of people there, normally all of them, have had to travel to the event. There is also the specific physical layout of the space in which performer and audience find themselves. All of these impact to some degree on the performance and its reception.
When you read a book the chances are you're sat at home. Or if not at home then on the bus or train, or on a hillside or beach, or in the bath, or a favourite cafe or pub, or in the library. The point is you are probably on your own, or if in company you're probably being left alone, you most likely know the place, and at least feel safe there. You are certainly focussed on, or attempting to focus on, the book. When you attend a performance it may well be a favourite location, even somewhere you might normally read, but the circumstances are different. Instead of being enclosed in your own personal space you are part of a collective space focussed on a single common point.
Location also overlaps with acoustics. The physical location of the venue affecting how the performance can be heard. The city will have more background noise than the country, a pub will be noisier than a library, a venue on a main road noiser than one in a back street, a double-glazed room in winter quieter than one in summer with windows and doors open. Naturally these things encroach on the attention of someone trying to read quietly but they have a less direct and immediate impact than they would on a performance.
For the performer this means that they are likely to be the focus of attention. Clearly if a writer is uncomfortable with this then they should think carefully about performing. This consideration of being the centre of attention is where the development of a persona can begin, whether as a protective carapace, a way of standing out from the crowd, or as an effective vehicle for the expression of the work. My personal inclination is to be dubious of personae, although it is probably impossible to stop one developing. Be aware that stage-names, costumes and stagey ways of performing may either serve your material (or self-projection) well or make you look a bit of a tool. Or both.
Acoustics is clearly the biggest single defining difference between reading a book quietly and a performance. Whether amplified or not the majority of readings and performances of poetry will centre around sound. This means that the performer has to practice and experiment, they should be willing to listen to recordings of their own performances. The performer should know their own voice, they should know any equipment they use, they should develop a basic knowledge of how microphones and speakers work. Until they begin to know these things they will not be in full control of what they are doing, no matter how well they know their material.
This will come from experience, from rehearsing at home, from performing in a variety of venues. What is more difficult and takes a lot more practice is 'reading' a venue, working out how your sound will interact with the space. Especially where a performer doesn't know a venue I recommend setting up beforehand and testing the sound, although bear in mind that an empty venue sounds different from a venue full of people. Part of the fun in performing for me, already mentioned earlier, is the dialogue with the acoustics of the space - what sounds get lost, what sounds get transformed for better or worse, what new elements the space brings to the sound. Naturally the more control the performer has over their voice and equipment the better equipped they are to cope with intrusive noises or acoustically difficult venues.
Then there is the audience. The audience is the point of a performance taking place at all**. Anyone who is not comfortable with this, or who feels that performance is not the appropriate medium for their poetry should think hard about whether they want to perform. The audience may entirely consist of the performer's readers or friends but is more likely to include a number of people who know nothing about the performer or their work, some of whom may be uninterested or hostile. That part of the audience who do not know the performer or their work is the part it is important to reach. It can be incredibly difficult to judge how an audience is reacting. Often you may not be able to see them, it may be hard to hear them, and a large part of the performer's attention is given over to ensuring that the right things are happening in the right order.
The difference between the audience reading a book or magazine (or blog etc) and the audience attending a performance should be obvious. The first can select exactly what they want to read and what to ignore, they can choose to reread a poem or put it down for a day or two. The audience at a performance has less choice about sitting through things they don't like, although they can make their disapproval vocal, even if just by chatting at the bar. This means that the relationship is very different. The audience does not owe the performer their attention or even their respect. Which is not the same as saying that a performer should try to please everyone. The performer should simply have an idea who they want to please and how, and perhaps who they want to displease and how.
In conclusion I would simply reiterate what I have said previously, performance is not something that just happens to a text. It is a deliberate act which significantly alters the circumstances of reception of the text, and perhaps how it is understood. I hope I've managed to effectively outline some of the important parameters that affect the transmission and reception of a text through performance. Once again though, this is a personal view.
*In my original draft I intended to preface this by looking at the various elements of performance under three overlapping generic headings: physial aspects, communication, and auditory elements. When it came to actually writing this section it became apparent that there was insufficient distinction between what I might place under the three generic headings, and what would be covered by examing the qualities unique to performance. For this reason I have dropped the generic headings.
**As suggested in discussions at the beginning of the post this can be debated. It is not a debate I intend to get into here.
A quick word on terminology. Throughout this post I refer to performance. I intend the word to cover a wide range of practices from someone reading from a sheet of paper without looking up through to professionally realised multimedia spectacles. What I take them to have in common is the communication of a text to an audience. I have also assumed that audience to be live, that is physically present or otherwise able to provide realtime feedback to the performer. These assumptions are not uncontroversial and can be challenged, but have been made for the sake of simplicity.
It will probably not surprise regular readers that I am very much in favour of performance. This is both from the perspective of being in the audience, and from the perspective of performing. As audience member I find it can illuminate aspects of texts I find hard to grasp on the page, as well as providing entertainment. As performer it is an extension of my creative practice, and a chance to show-off and get feedback. Let's look at each of these a little more closely.
Starting from the perspective of an audience member the first element I identified is probably one of the most troublesome - the illumination of aspects of texts I find hard to grasp on the page. One objection to performance is that where there is a deliberate ambiguity within a written text any performance may have to suggest one reading of that part of the text over another. There is a chance that this favouring of one reading over another can be seen as definitive, especially where the author is also the performer. This seems to be exactly what I mean by 'illumination of aspects of texts I find hard to grasp on the page'. However this is not quite what I meant.
I'm probably not alone in reading poetry - particularly difficult poetry - in a different way to newspaper articles or even the majority of fiction. I may well read through poems in a linear way to begin with but I then flick backwards and forwards comparing different sections of a poem or collection and trying to uncover what it is that interests me so much about the poem. This means that I am perfectly happy that ambiguities are not intended to be resolved, but to swing one way and then another, each time making the poem look slightly different. The performance of a poem then simply offers a single view, and one which cannot be repeated. In fact it will more often not be ambiguities that performance illuminates for me. Not being the most careful reader in the world it is often echoes of meaning or sound between words, repetition of phrases, references to other writers, and deliberate rhythmic effects that I pick up from performances.
This does not remove the objections of course. And there are further concerns that the specific speaking voice of the poet or other performer might shape the audience's perception of the poem, or that the performance draws attention to the poet and their persona rather than to the poetry. This is the concern that I regard as most serious, and which I think can have the most serious consequences for the understanding of a poet's work. While it's not really feasible to prevent the development of a persona it's clear (especially in music and film of the previous century) that there is a potential for performers to be more visible than their work and for their work to be seen through the filter of their projected persona. Those who choose to minimise their persona, or not to perform, or otherwise choose not to project themselves in this way risk their work being marginalised. I'm not sure what the answer to this is, but I think on the whole it's not a desperately pressing problem for the majority of poets. Especially for those in the post-avant/innovative field.
The other major element of performance important to me as an audience member is entertainment. There's not much need to say any more, except that entertainment doesn't have to be ingratiating, condescending or stupid and is often better when it's quite the opposite.
As I mentioned earlier performance is an important part of my creative practice. This is because I tend to regard my work as unfinished - text poems are not so much completed as abandoned, visual poems are often in series and variations on a theme, sound poems are recreated differently every time. One of the reasons for all these tendencies is that my practice is strongly improvisatory, and that I tend to work most effectively in brief concentrated bursts. This is clearly better suited to sound poetry, to a practice centred around performance.
Which is not to say that my sound poetry is normally completely unscripted or made up on the spot. Pieces normally originate either from improvisation or from specifc ideas I'd like to explore, whether properties of a particular sound source, variations on a word, or something less concrete. These are then refined usually by a fairly minimal score or set of indications which is then tested and reduced further. This reduced score then becomes the basis for performances into which additional elements can be introduced, or from which steps can be removed, which can take as much or as little time as seems appropriate, which can be re-ordered, and sometimes abandoned altogether.
This flexibility allows responsiveness to feedback. When I say feedback I mean both the response of whatever audience there is, and the performer's awareness of the space. Do certain sounds seem to get lost? Do others resonate in a much more satisfying way? Are there rattles or other sounds perhaps generated by what the performer is doing? Are there drones or other sounds already in the space that the performer has to compete with, or is able to incorporate? I can list some of these variables readily because they're more tangible and more easily manipulated than the audience response.
The performer's reaction to audience response depends on what their aim is. Are you happy with people laughing or shifting uncomfortably? Do you want to provoke people into storming out? Or perhaps you want to try and help them achieve a trancelike state. Whatever the case may be the performer needs to be able to switch back and forth between concentration on the performance, making sure they are in the right place, and concentration on the space and the audience, monitoring how the performance is actually working.
The distinct element of this feedback is that it is live, decisions are made quickly, and then remade if necessary. This is different from the lengthy process of writing a poem, editing it, perhaps getting further feedback from an editor, and after publication taking on board further comments from critics and readers. One process can take a fraction of a second the other can take years or decades. It also means that the product of each is distinctly different, and suited to the circumstances of its creation. While I enjoy the immediacy of extemporising from a skeletal outline I recognise that there may be shortcomings in the performance that while unimportant during the event can become irritating played back at another time. Likewise a poem that works brilliantly on the page, even one designed to be read aloud, can lose the attention of an audience when performed, and doesn't allow the reader much flexibility.
Perhaps the fundamental reason for performing though, especially in my case, is to show off. Strictly speaking I suppose this is an extension of feedback. But while the elements of feedback previously described are aimed more towards achieving specific effects of sound and reactions from the audience, externally focussed as it were, showing off is more inwardly focussed. That is that the ultimate aim is to get some sort of affirmation or at least response. Again, as with entertainment for the audience, there's no need to say any more on this.
I mentioned at the beginning that I would look at the question of whether to perform or not. I will attempt to do this by looking at what I consider to be the important unique qualities of performance, duration, location, acoustics and audience*. As with everything up to this point this is purely a personal take on performance and I do not expect agreement.
Duration is an easily overlooked but profound difference between poetry on the page and poetry in performance. Simply reading poetry quietly from the page without pausing or rereading sections can be accomplished much more quickly than a poem can be performed. Generally though a performance of a poem will take less time than reading the poem from the page. In this sense at least 'duration' should perhaps be 'duration and unrepeatability'. As already mentioned with a poem on the page the reader can flick backwards and forwards, can reread a section as often as they choose, and can compare parts of a poem, poems in the same book, or parts of poems from a variety of books. Essentially the reader is not tied to chronology or duration. The audience for a performance on the other hand are very much subject to both chronology and duration - the relative relationships in time of each element of the poem.
This makes the duration of a piece, the ordering of elements within that piece, and perhaps the passage of time represented by the piece elements with which the performer can play. It can also make performances, especially lengthy readings of dense or complicated text, indigestible or even impossible for the audience to follow. Attention wanders. It is not necessarily a deficiency of the audience if they are bored or just mystified by an unmoderated presentation of material that in large part depends on them being able to interrogate the text. During a performance you do not have time to interrogate the text. Which is not the same as saying that poetry specifically created for (or during) performance is less sophisticated or worth less than text poetry. It is saying that they are distinct and achieve their goals by different means.
Location covers a range of different things. There is the fact that you are not normally sat at home reading a book while attending or delivering a live performance. There is the fact, which will be expanded on later, that generally a group of people gather in a single place for live performance. That is, it is a social activity, and the venue is generally a public meeting or recreational space. This means that the majority of people there, normally all of them, have had to travel to the event. There is also the specific physical layout of the space in which performer and audience find themselves. All of these impact to some degree on the performance and its reception.
When you read a book the chances are you're sat at home. Or if not at home then on the bus or train, or on a hillside or beach, or in the bath, or a favourite cafe or pub, or in the library. The point is you are probably on your own, or if in company you're probably being left alone, you most likely know the place, and at least feel safe there. You are certainly focussed on, or attempting to focus on, the book. When you attend a performance it may well be a favourite location, even somewhere you might normally read, but the circumstances are different. Instead of being enclosed in your own personal space you are part of a collective space focussed on a single common point.
Location also overlaps with acoustics. The physical location of the venue affecting how the performance can be heard. The city will have more background noise than the country, a pub will be noisier than a library, a venue on a main road noiser than one in a back street, a double-glazed room in winter quieter than one in summer with windows and doors open. Naturally these things encroach on the attention of someone trying to read quietly but they have a less direct and immediate impact than they would on a performance.
For the performer this means that they are likely to be the focus of attention. Clearly if a writer is uncomfortable with this then they should think carefully about performing. This consideration of being the centre of attention is where the development of a persona can begin, whether as a protective carapace, a way of standing out from the crowd, or as an effective vehicle for the expression of the work. My personal inclination is to be dubious of personae, although it is probably impossible to stop one developing. Be aware that stage-names, costumes and stagey ways of performing may either serve your material (or self-projection) well or make you look a bit of a tool. Or both.
Acoustics is clearly the biggest single defining difference between reading a book quietly and a performance. Whether amplified or not the majority of readings and performances of poetry will centre around sound. This means that the performer has to practice and experiment, they should be willing to listen to recordings of their own performances. The performer should know their own voice, they should know any equipment they use, they should develop a basic knowledge of how microphones and speakers work. Until they begin to know these things they will not be in full control of what they are doing, no matter how well they know their material.
This will come from experience, from rehearsing at home, from performing in a variety of venues. What is more difficult and takes a lot more practice is 'reading' a venue, working out how your sound will interact with the space. Especially where a performer doesn't know a venue I recommend setting up beforehand and testing the sound, although bear in mind that an empty venue sounds different from a venue full of people. Part of the fun in performing for me, already mentioned earlier, is the dialogue with the acoustics of the space - what sounds get lost, what sounds get transformed for better or worse, what new elements the space brings to the sound. Naturally the more control the performer has over their voice and equipment the better equipped they are to cope with intrusive noises or acoustically difficult venues.
Then there is the audience. The audience is the point of a performance taking place at all**. Anyone who is not comfortable with this, or who feels that performance is not the appropriate medium for their poetry should think hard about whether they want to perform. The audience may entirely consist of the performer's readers or friends but is more likely to include a number of people who know nothing about the performer or their work, some of whom may be uninterested or hostile. That part of the audience who do not know the performer or their work is the part it is important to reach. It can be incredibly difficult to judge how an audience is reacting. Often you may not be able to see them, it may be hard to hear them, and a large part of the performer's attention is given over to ensuring that the right things are happening in the right order.
The difference between the audience reading a book or magazine (or blog etc) and the audience attending a performance should be obvious. The first can select exactly what they want to read and what to ignore, they can choose to reread a poem or put it down for a day or two. The audience at a performance has less choice about sitting through things they don't like, although they can make their disapproval vocal, even if just by chatting at the bar. This means that the relationship is very different. The audience does not owe the performer their attention or even their respect. Which is not the same as saying that a performer should try to please everyone. The performer should simply have an idea who they want to please and how, and perhaps who they want to displease and how.
In conclusion I would simply reiterate what I have said previously, performance is not something that just happens to a text. It is a deliberate act which significantly alters the circumstances of reception of the text, and perhaps how it is understood. I hope I've managed to effectively outline some of the important parameters that affect the transmission and reception of a text through performance. Once again though, this is a personal view.
*In my original draft I intended to preface this by looking at the various elements of performance under three overlapping generic headings: physial aspects, communication, and auditory elements. When it came to actually writing this section it became apparent that there was insufficient distinction between what I might place under the three generic headings, and what would be covered by examing the qualities unique to performance. For this reason I have dropped the generic headings.
**As suggested in discussions at the beginning of the post this can be debated. It is not a debate I intend to get into here.
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