SASE Contributor List « POETICKS

SASE Contributor List

This is a list of contributors to a mail art show of SASEs Crag Hill gathered items for, then sent to me. I immediately kicked an attempted field goal with it that went fifty yards wide and seven miles long: just another of the many projects I overloaded myself into back when my Runaway Spoon Press was publishing a new book monthly and I was actually making poems and writing reviews of my own and never followed through on, or didn’t follow through enough on. It now strikes me that a Then&Now publication of the pieces now in my possession and new pieces Crag and I can get from the ones we have old pieces from with news of what’s been happening with them since they sent Crag their SASEs. I think it would be a great art history snapshot of the past quarter-century or so.

I’m posting the list of participants in hopes many of them will see it and send new SASEs to me at [email protected]–with an update on their lives. I’m also hoping non-participants in touch with anyone on the list will let that person know about it. Otherwise, the list will at least let people know whose mail art will eventually be appearing on my blog (poeticks.com).

And, hey, if anyone has a few extra bucks to mail me for postage and other expenses that are sure to hit me, don’t be shy about doing so. I’m plunging way too rapidly into credit debt the way I did as a publisher. A friend bailed me out but I’m not sure he can again. Apologies for bringing this up, but . . .

(Ellipsis compliment of Marton Koppany: it may look normal, but . . .)

(Previous ellipsis is mine–although greatly influenced by Marton’s.)

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Column085 — January/February 2008 « POETICKS

Column085 — January/February 2008



Finishing Off 2007

 


Small Press Review,
Volume 40 Numbers 1-2, January-February Year




      Concrete! Producer/Director: Sara Sackner.
      DVD 2003, running time 72 minutes;
      Padded Cell Pictures, 1105 North Signal Street,
      Ojai CA 93023. $35 ppd.
      http//:www.paddedcellpictures.com

      Mark Sonnenfield, Writer. November 2007.
      Marymark Press, 45-08 Old Millstone Drive,
      East Windsor NJ 08520. np.

 


 

Thanksgiving is here, so I have five days off from substitute teaching, and have vowed to get this column done during it. I am beset with problems. A major one is that I’m no longer getting many zines in the mail, anymore. I attribute that to (1) the dominance in innovative literature circles of the Internet (witness my last half dozen or so columns) and (2) the shitting down of almost all the zines I used to write about (and for), such as Lost & Found Times. There’s also (3): the fact that when I do get a zine or other item worth writing about, I lose it for two or three years in the chaos of books, rough drafts, stacks of paper with print on one side I plan to use a second time, videos, dvds, cat hair, dust, dirt, clothes being aired, garbage (in proper containers, I want to assure everyone), cords, dried-up lizard remains, pencils & pens, bills, receipts, ets and ceteras, that I haven’t gotten into my twenty filing cabinets or fifteen bookcases or various closets and cabinets.

In short, it’s hard to find something to write about. So, I’ll start with the biggest news of 2007 from here: I bought a new toilet. I had two but only one worked. I won’t bother describing its layers of biota and calcification, but will just say that I had a bucket in my bathtub for flushing it (because everything in the tank was broken, including the flush- handle, which was also gunked immovably in place). No big deal: I was used to it, until the shut-off valve to it had gone on the blink, so water kept going into it, and I was afraid it might flood the house. So I got a plumber in, and we decided the most rational thing to do was put in a new toilet. He put in a new shut-off valve for nothing to seal the deal. I did not compose a poem about it, but did write it up at my blog.

Next is something that actually has to do with experriodica, which is supposed to be this column’s subject. It’s Concrete!, a pleasant documentary on a DVD of a visit to the Ruth & Marvin Sackner Archive of Concrete & Visual Poetry, starring the extremely personable Ruth and Marvin Sackner themselves, with guests appearances by Tom Phillips, the author of A Humament, one of the most important works of visual poetry ever, and the central artist in their collection, and Johanna Drucker and Albert Dupont. I saw it several years ago when it first came out, but didn’t get around to ordering a copy until just a few months ago. Its coverage of visio-textual art can not be complete, given there were over sixty-thousand items in the archive at the time the film was made, and its emphases are different from what mine would be, but it’s good on the early contribution to visual poetry of such artists as Vladimir Mayakovsky and Kasimir Malevich, and the generation in England and America that included Bob Cobbing, John Furnival, Emmett Williams. One flaw in it, for me, is its making too much of big names like Gertrude Stein and Roy Lichtenstein, who are marginally important to visual poetry, at the expense of just about everyone active in the field in this country after 1970. It’s a wonderful survey of the field, though, and something anyone seriously interested in the field should have.

Something I can always find is my monthly envelope of poetry and who-knows-what from Mark Sonnenfeld. That’s because I have a folder in one of my filing cabinets for what he sends me. Make that, several folders. He sends me (and others he’s in artistic sympathy with) little broadsides, sheets of paper that look mimeographed, and saddle stitched chapbooks and other publications with enough different poets and illumagists in them to qualify, I think, as zines. His November batch contains three items (less than his envelopes usually contain). One (which I almost lost while just sitting here at my keyboard) is just a sheet of white paper with two short reviews by Andy Ford. One is of the first issue of a zine called Stronger Than Dirt. This, according to Ford, seems to be produced by “a high-school age dude,” but is nonetheless first-rate–“with tons of flyers, interviews with WHEN LIBERTY DIES and FLOWER VIOLENCE, and interesting art.”

The other concerns two chapbooks by Mark Sonnenfeld, 14th St. Sta. Found Items and An Anonymous Artist. About the first Ford concludes with “A modern survey in trashsites, 14th St. Sta. Found Items proves once again that art is not limited to the canvas, the reel-to-reel tape, or the museums.” The other chap Ford describes as “one of the more narrative and comprehensible chapbooks of (Sonnenfeld’s) that (Ford) has read.” Pages from the reviewed publications share the page with the texts of the reviews but are too small to be of much use, I fear.

Also in Sonnenfeld’s November envelope are two chaps, one on yellow paper I only have space to give the title of, Jerk off Guitar Players, by Sonnenfeld and Tom Hays, the other on green, by Sonnenfeld alone: I am a (u r b a n) cassette ‘sound’ collagist. First poem (or stanza of a poem, I can’t tell which):

or  I       didn't  care if I fit  a       shirt  POCKET  twopart-  look down  a     simple  path

A later poem asks one to “imagine a piano hammer crashed in flowers.” Get on Mark’s mailing list. I don’t know what he charges strangers, probably nothing. But even if he charges postage, or a few bucks more, he’s worth the investment.

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Column101 — September/October 2010 « POETICKS

Column101 — September/October 2010






col100

 


Small Press Review,
Volume 42, Numbers 9/10, September/October 2010




      Comprepoetica
      Blogmaster: Bob Grumman
      http://www.reocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/1492/spr-stuff

      “Some Notes on a Relatively New Form of Poetry”
      By Bob Grumman
      /bob-grummans-first-piece-in-spr


 

Congratulations to Me, for this (“col100,” as my computer calls it is the one hundredth column I’ve done for Small Press Review–for a department of SPR, Small Magazine Review, if you want to get technical. To be even more technical, I must state that SMR began as a separate magazine, so my first four columns, which were in every other issue of SMR during its brief solo flight, were definitely not in Small Press Review. I’m counting them as being in it, anyway.

Getting started as a columnist was about the only break I’ve ever gotten as a writer. It all began when Editor/Publisher Len accepted a guest editorial of mine, “Some Notes on a Relatively New Form of Poetry,” for the April 1992 issue of SPR. Concerned with two “infraverbal” poems by Karl Kempton, one by Jonathan Brannen, and George Swede’s one-word poem, “graveyarduskilldeer,” it remains one of my best pieces of criticism–so much so that I’ve published at least five different versions of it since. I no longer remember I came to get it into SPR, but I vaguely recall it had to do with Len’s openness to visual and related forms of poetry, due–I believe–to his admiration for d. a. levy, and acquaintance with Karl Kempton.

In any case, I’m grateful to Len for accepting my piece. Despite the fact that it didn’t do nearly as much for me as I thought it would. Which was get me read by someone connected with an upscale magazine like The Atlantic, who–charmed by my style, and the subject of my essay–would persuade a bigWorld editor to solicit me for a similar piece. And I’d go on to fame as a bigWorld writer. What a laugh.

But it did help me when, not too long after, I tried for a position as a columnist for SMR when Len began that. I’ve been a contributing editor to SMR ever since.

In my first column I reviewed Meat Epoch, Dada Tennis, CWM, and O!!Zone, all now defunct, although the editors of two of them, Geof Huth and Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino, are still active in the otherstream. I can’t say the column was brilliant, but I did quote a nice passage from a poem in Meat Epoch by Spencer Selby, referring to meaning as something “which gathers in emptiness/ and waits for all things,” and discuss one of my other favorite contemporaries, the ridiculously under-recognized Guy Beining, who had a number of pieces in O!!Zone.

My next column was devoted to Gustave Morin’s stained paper archive and Larry Tomoyasu’s Found Street. Both of these I considered state-of-the-art specimens of adventurous poetry. Neither is around anymore. Morin is still active in his native Canada, but I hear little from him. Tomoyasu seems no longer on the scene although I got a friendly note for him sometime during the past year.

Two issues later I did a column on John M. Bennett’s Lost & found Times, a durable otherstream zine that continued in print until just a few years ago, and for which I eventually wrote a regular column. And so it went, this reviewing of zines and sometimes books that I considered superior by far to anything in the mainstream but which rarely lasted more than a few years, and never gained any kind of bigWorld acclaim, something I still don’t understand.

SPR hasn’t changed too much over the years, it doesn’t seem to me. The reviewers’ names have changed. And I’m the only columnist, although “Michael Andre” still makes occasional (always interesting) visits, and Len writes an occasional editorial. Laurel Speer was dominant when my very first piece appeared. I’d read her years before that with admiration, although she was never interested in my kind of stuff. Ditto Robert Peters.

I modeled myself to some extent on Speer’s way of incisively dealing with review material while at the same time injecting her own life in literature and outside it into what she wrote. I loved Peters’s caustic commentary, too–as well as his positive insights. She burned out, it would appear; he aged off the scene. A shame in both cases.

Amusingly, I didn’t think much of Speer’s column in the issue of SPR I made my rookie appearance in. It was on the page opposite the beginning of my editorial. She picked on a quotation of Roger Sessions’s, “The only alternative an artist has to being himself is being nobody,” which I quite enjoyed. I interpreted to mean that if, as an artist, you try to live up to others’ expectations instead of being true to yourself, you’ll end being a nobody. I don’t think she got it. Her point seemed to be that all the counts is what an artist produces, which has nothing to do with his self.

What is really amusing is that a one-paragraph review of one of John M. Bennett’s four-pagers, Tempid, by A. J. Wright shared the page Speer’s column was on. After quoting a few out-of-context lines, from Bennett, Wright averred, “I guess this stuff is supposed to be deep, but ersatz surrealism just sticks to my boots.” A little over a year later, I had a review in SPR (September 1994) in which I said of Bennett, “He makes ‘nets wider than sense,’ to quote (one) of his poems, by using words the way Jackson Pollock used paint: to tell of the urgency and violence they’ve been flung out of as much as to ‘mean’ in more conventional ways. Thus, they splatter, jerk back, go off-course, repeat, offend and baffle–as they build a world as major as that of any other current poet’s.” Something I still believe.

Hey, I had fun in them days, and hope to continue having fun here for a few more years. A big thanks to you, my few readers, some of whom have been with me since ’92. Even though you never helped me onto the pages of The Atlantic, The New Yorker, or even The Hudson Review.

 

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On Writing To Be Seen, Volume One « POETICKS

On Writing To Be Seen, Volume One

Several anthologies of visual poetry were published around 1970 in this country, Anthology of Concrete Poetry, 1967, edited by Emmett Williams; anthology of concretism in Chicago Review, 1967, then as a separate book, 1968, edited by Eugene Wildman; Concrete Poetry, A World View, 1968, edited by Mary Ellen Solt; Once Again, 1968, edited by Jean-Francois Bory; This Book is a Movie, 1971, edited by Jerry G. Bowles and Tony Russell; and Open Poetry, 1973, edited by Ronald Gross & George Quasha with a visual poetry anthology of around 150 pages within edited by Emmett Williams (and A found Poetry section with some works that might pass for visual poetry edited by John Robert Colombo.   Then no more appeared for quite a while.  Visual poems kept being composed, though—enough of them toward the end of the eighties to make it clear that we were ready for another visual poetry anthology.  Lots of visual poets, particularly those in the post-70s-anthologies generation, jabbered about having one done, but nothing happened until around the autumn of 1999 when Crag Hill and I up and decided to get one done.  It was hard work but Writing To Be Seen, Volume One was the result.  More volumes were planned, one of them completed except for conversion to a form readable by computer-driven printers, but none published.

This essay is an attempt to present a rough idea of what is in Writing To Be Seen via samples of each contributor’s work, with my comments on them.  I welcome feedback. I’ll start with the cover illustration by K.S. Ernst, which I consider alone worth the $24 price of the anthology.  Next is the sample of the works within on the back cover, though not reproduced quite as nicely as I would have liked (because of my own limited technical means at the time).  They indicate the collection’s breadth and excellence.

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Front Cover, by K. S. Ernst
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A large print of Kathy’s work is one of only two visual poems I have on the walls of my house. I’d like to have more but all my bookcases full of books leave little room for hung art. The other visual poem on my walls is a second-rate one of my own that I only hung to see what it’d look like hung, then have been too lazy to take down (mainly because then I’d have to find a place to put it and and finding places to put things in my house is a major enterprise).
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Back Cover

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Below is a great visual poem–visiosculptural poem, I should say, as it’s a photograph of a work in wood—by Kathy Ernst. I chose it as them lead poem from <em>Writing To Be Seen</em> for my essay because it is not only great but because I find it hard to believe anyone could resist its appeal. Each contributor has twenty pieces, plus any extras they may have included in the Artist’s Statement each was asked for. That, by the way, was the feature of the anthology that I was most proud of, for I was the one who first brought it up, and suggested giving each contributor a lot of pages for it–twelve to fifteen, I think.  and these are big letter-sized pages. But Crag was all for it, too. Not all the contributors took advantage of it, but Kathy wrote a terrific “personal history,” illustrated with a number of specimens of her work. Ditto Joel Lipman. Karl Young went a step further in combining discussion and art by combining his statement and selection of works.

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One of the controversies raising a bit of a stir while Crag and I were putting the anthology together was my suggested subtitle for it, “an anthology of later 20th-century visio-textual art.” Crag was with me on it, others not, but somehow I won, I’m not sure how. I felt, and still feel, that a general term for pieces that some would call poetry, some not, is preferable to a polarizing term like, “visual poetry.” No question, I also had and have a vendetta against calling wordless graphic designs “visual <em>poetry</em>.”
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  .  It was works like the ones above of Carol Stetser's that I felt  "visio-textual art" best suited for. I admire the two works in question,  and admit that they certainly are close to being poems. I'd call them  "language visimages"--because they visually depict (are "visimages" of,  in my admittedly obscure terminology) language, or language concerns. The  first, I must confess, I can't really figure out. The alphabet is there--

and an old wise woman/Mother-figure/school-marm. A misty wondering eroding

in places into the beginning of verbal meaning, and/or the beginnings of

linguistic paths to meaning? I found the origin of language theme so strong

when Crag and I were sequencing the anthologies contents, though, that we

picked this one as the first in Carol's section, and Carol's section--which

deals much with the same theme (in part, since all her work complexly goes

manywhere)--as the lead section of the book. (That her work is so immediately

The second of Carol's pieces I think even less visio-poetic than the first,

for it doesn’t even have an imbedded captian–but I like it even more.
impressive was another reason for our choosing it to open our book with.)
Maybe that’s because I think I have a firmer handle on it: I deem it an
archaeological site, with various layers of languaging exposed back to the
stone age. Included are fragments of alpahabet–the “def,” which is a
fragment of alphabet that abbreviates “definition” with wonderfully
appropriateness, near the top left, and the “AB” near the bottom left
(with smaller fragments of each near the middle) among them. Archaeology,
astronomy, cartography, anthropology–these are key subjects of Carol’s
>work here. Why she isn’t better-known I won’t ever figure out.
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Number three of the poets with work in <em>Writing To Be Seen</em>
is Scott Helmes. Here are his “Since You’ve Been Gone” and “Freud”:
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Grumman’s Ratios « POETICKS

Grumman’s Ratios

The Connotation/Denotation Ratio The greater this is for a poem, the more likely the poem is a good one.

The Security/Freedom Ratio  The value of this pretty much defines a person’s politics.

The Familiarity/Unfamiliarity Ratio   I take this to be the sole determinant of aesthetic pleasure, which is limited not to one end of the range of the ratio’s possible values, but to a short length somewhere between 100 and 200, my wild guess is

The Pleasure/Pain Ratio  The maximization of this I consider the sole motive of human behavior.

The Credentials/Achievements Ratio  A ratio, inversely proportionate to a given society’s cultural value, and directly proportionate to a person’s rewards from that society.

 

 

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Column050 — May/June 2001 « POETICKS

Column050 — May/June 2001




The Appearance of a Selected Works by Me!



Small Press Review,
Volume 34, Numbers 5/6, May/June 2001




Xerolage, volumes 27, 28, 29 and 30. 2000-2001.
Edited by Miekal And and Lyx Ish aka Liz Was.
24 pp., each; Xexoxial Editions, Rt 1, Box 131,
LaFarge WI 54639. $5, ppd.

——————————————————————————–

In 1966, I self-published a book of some three dozen visual haiku that I re-self-published as a Runaway Spoon Press book in 1997. Other than that, I’ve not had a single collection of my visual poetry published until this year, just a week or so after my 60th birthday on Groundhog Day. While it is true that I have not been a prolific visual or any other kind of poet, I have had visual poems published in zines all over the world, and in several exhibitions, and there are Big Press reference books out there with entries on me as a visual poet.

So, it’s interestingly odd, I think, that it’s taken so long for a non- self-published book of my visual poetry to come out–but pretty par for the course in our still little-recognized off-road of poetry. It is also a Great Relief for me finally to get this particular collection out there, thanks to Miekal And and Lyx Ish, and their since-1985 super-series of 24-page Xerolages, each issue of which is devoted to one artist (or collaborative alliance of two or more artists) making significant use of copier technology. I’ve lauded this series before in this column so will only remind you now that among those who have had Xerolages devoted to their work are Bill DiMichele, Lloyd Dunn, Greg Evason, Malok, Ross Martin, Clemente Padin, Vittore Baroni, Marilyn Rosenberg, Ruggero Maggi, Bill Keith–and now, at around the same time that the issue with my work in it appeared (volume 30)–Jean-Francois Robic (volume 27), Carlyle Baker (volume 28) and Carla Bertola (volume 29).

Robic’s collection is of what I call visiocollagic poetry, a subset of visual poetry consisting of texts and visual images sharing pages but not fused. In Robic’s introductory words, he “mixed (his) family old pictures & historic events (especially about eastern & communisitc history), signs & words in all languages concerned by the images: french, russian, breton, spanish, german–so you need a dictionary to appreciate all the images’ meanings. It’s up to you to . . . connect signs, words, & images; to give them back a signification; your signification.” A lexicon, however, is provided for the very few words that are scattered through these classically xerolagically distorted, blurry, oriented-in-all-directions clusters of images. Even without the lexicon, though, an aesthcipeint’s flow into the pathos/ever-long-ago of the nations and families (metaphoring each other) of Robic’s sequence is practically automatic.

Baker’s collection almost entirely leaves the verbal, though it is saturatedly textual. It begins with an abc, each letter of which has several words or symbols next to it that start with it, eventually turning into a poem of sorts in the style of “dat damn dada” of the D entry. On the next page a piece of paper covered with horizontal slices of words and phrases flutters away from three blank pieces of paper toward the viewer to speak, barely, of such things as “thing,” “insight,” “the people,” “wide range” . . . Next to this is a page of coded material using little lines, dots, x’s and the like which the same sliced phrases and words from the previous page cross–and can now be seen to say, “Someone who is truly knowledgeable makes even the complex things seem simple,” and goes on to something about helping “the people” decide between “products and services.” From that point on, Baker’s sequence is a wordless meditation on language. It ends with an image of what seems to be the tower of Babel in ruins–with a very abstract dadaist sketch of some kind of Buckminster Fuller structure behind and above it that suggests to me something about the material’s evolution to the conceptual. Without space for twenty or thirty thousand more words to discuss this work, I can only say here that it is . . . fascinating.

The same is so much the case with Bertola’s collection of mostly textual visimages, too, that I will sneak away from my responsibilities as critic and just quote from Bertola’s brief introduction, in which she speaks of “dismembering or recreating” words to make signs/designs of them. “The voice,” she says, “breaks (them), throws (them) into the whirl of sound. The Xerox succeeds in twisting and reconstructing (them) in haunting sequence.” (Which is my impression of her work, too.) “At times,” she goes on, “my signs-words aren’t drawn with a pen but with a thread (wool, silk) and they create new writing to which the Xerox gives the look of very ancient or futuristic graffite. When the ‘subject’ is an image, for instance my face, the Xerox intervenes to give off the anguish and the grotesque with a language that the word couldn’t and doesn’t want to face.”

My own collection cheats a little by being more of visual poems than of the collages-via-Xerox that And coined the word, “xerolage,” to represent, but just about all of them, in spite of looking like poems rather than collages, consist of cut-out texts and graphic images pasted together and xeroxed (and, often, re- Xeroxed). As I somewhat ruefully confess in my one-page introduction, the 26 poems in the issue (which include a front- and a back-cover poem) represent almost my entire output over the years as a visual poet, aside from a few sequences, and my latest works in color. I feel very good about it, though: it represents me at my best as a visual poet. And it includes a few of those of my mathematical poems that are also visual poems.

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Column009 — November 1994 « POETICKS

Column009 — November 1994

 
 
 

My Summer Vacation

 


Small Magazine Review, November 1994, Volume 2, Number 4
 


 

 
 
 
     Olla-podrida. Summer, 1994; 4 pp.;
     Florida’s Shame, Box 10375,
     Parker FL 32404. SASE.

     Blaster 288 pp.; 1994; Pa; Feh! Press,
     200 E. 10th Street New York NY 10003. $12.95.

     Meshuggah No. 10, June 1994; 56 pp.;
     200 E. 10th Street New York NY 10003. $2.

     End Time 299 pp.; 1994; Pa; AK Press,
     Box 40682, San Francisco CA 94140-0682. $8.

     Global Mail September–December 1994;
     8pp.; Box 597996, Chicago IL 60659. $2.50.


Jack Saunders, who will soon have written “100 books without selling a word to New York or Hollywood,” has a simple mode of operation: every day he sits at his computer for 37 hours or more and, like his hero Jack Kerouac, writes whatever comes into his head–which is mostly a defense of writing whatever comes into his head. Much of this is repetitious–but mythically so, and vastly reassuring to his fans (I’m proud to be one) who, my guess is, are similarly “marginal” writers who won’t give up in spite of NY and Hollywood, and are grateful to find Jack’s leaky but still somehow seaworthy dingy bobbing along with them no matter how many time zones left of the closest shipping lane they find themselves in.

A strictly plain-text prosist, Saunders is no experimental writer. I’m writing about him here, though, because he was one of the people I was supposed to meet this summer at Rev. Crowbar’s Big Schmooze, an event intended to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the reverend’s publishing house, Popular Reality–and the publication of Al Ackerman’s first full-length book, Blaster. This latter includes, by chance, a piece on Saunders that Ackerman wrote with the help of Trixie, the remarkable five-legged squirrel that Rev. Crowbar has trained to nibble exact replicas of Alexander Pope’s signature into the foreskins of any vug-Randolph who succeeds in getting through the body of Ethan Allen that John M. Bennett donated to the reverend as protection from said vug-Randolphs, who are large sentient beetles given to mimicking Saunders’s prose style and calling it poetry.

Forgive me, but as soon as I mentioned Ackerman, my case of acker-imitatis flared up yet again and I couldn’t help emitting the passage above (and this one). For further details on this malady, see the upcoming issue of Lost & Found Times, which is due out sometime early in 1917, assuming the vug-Randolphs don’t take advantage of the absence of Ethan Allen from editor Bennett’s study.

Ackerman is much funnier than my lame imitation might lead one to guess, incidentally. His forte is the hilarious but somehow sympathetic delineation of characters like the guy in “2197 Vienna Sausages” who, after months of being ignored by “a hefty blond” he dotes on, suddenly dreams up a sure-fire way to impress her: he will make an overcoat entirely out of vienna sausages.

It is instructive to compare Ackerman to such a (first-rate) knownstream humorist as Dave Barry: where Ackerman comes out ahead is in (1) daring to occasionally break out in passages like “I like people who turn up their nose at Helen when she was sick again. Not that the recovery was followed by a relapse, exactly, where too sick to travel thought winter fell in love with puffy skin”; (2) daring to offend, as in stories like the one about a boy’s visiting a convalescent home to meet FDR, who hadn’t died in office but lost his marbles, and FDR’s trying to embrace the boy while “at the same time asking (him) in a loud whisper if (he) had ever handled a trouser snake”; and (3) daring to reveal depth of culture–with references to figures like Thomas Merton, for example–instead of to the ephemera writers like Barry depend on, like whoever the present chief executive of the U.S. happens to be. In short, Ackerman is simply larger than such family-faring syndicatees as Barry–which means he’ll not likely have a sitcom based on his writings, but that his writings will make more of a splash a century from now than Barry’s are likely to.

Saunders, by the way, never made it to the Schmooze: one of his current broadsides (some of which he’s calling “Olla podrida”) details the financial disasters responsible for that (like losing his home, etc., because of all the money he’s put into self-publishing). He was sorely missed, but Ackerman showed up, and Bennett–and some guy named G.A. Matiasz whose SF/Oakland-based early 21st-century thriller called End Time I’m currently in the middle of and finding not only highly professional but intelligent, a rare combination in fiction. It’s fun-reading, too! Simeon Stylites, publisher of, among other things, Blaster and the zine, Meshuggah (whose “special religion issue” includes this quote from Tammy Faye Bakker: “I take Him shopping with me. I say, ‘OK, Jesus, help me find a bargain.’”–but which also includes serious material, such as a little-known essay on Christianity by Robinson Jeffers) was on three occasions sighted lurking in one of the 42 corners of the Crowbar mansion, and Ashley Parker Owens showed up one afternoon and passed out copies of her dizzyingly thorough “listing” (400+ entries from 39 countries) of “all kinds of art projects, collaborations, and mail art events,” Global Mail. Dang, so many more people and publications to mention, but I’ve run out of space. Guess I’ll have to continue this next time.

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Column075 — March/April 2006 « POETICKS

Column075 — March/April 2006



Internet Report

 


Small Press Review,
Volume 38, Numbers 3 & 4, March-April 2006




Big Bridge. Edited by Michael Rothenberg. Website: www.bigbridge.org/toc.htm.

Improvisations.
Vernon Frazer. 697pp; 2005; Pa;
Beneath the Underground,
568 Brittany L, Delray Beach FL 33446. $45.

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A few minutes before I started this column, I premiered a new section in my blog’s new home page called the “Quarreling with Morons Section.” My blog gets little traffic, but today drew someone who took umbrage at my calling prose poetry “ridiculously unchallenging to write.” Said he: “You play with Microsoft Paint, call your wasted half-hour’s junk a poem, and dare to say that prose poems are easy to write? Nice.

A few days previously, someone else, or maybe the same moron, took a shot at me, informing me that “Sylvia Plath never did the math, nor the meth which is what you must be smoking to think this is poetry.” Although this person didn’t say, it would seem he was referring to one of my mathematical poems, or maybe to all of them. The problem with crap like this, which you see all over the Internet, and taking up most of the space in any magazine’s “letters to the editors” section, is not the opinions expressed, but the stupidity of the way the opinions are expressed. It would seem that the vast majority of readers are only able to say yes or no to something (and the aye-sayers are just as irritating in this respect as the nay-sayers). It has never crossed their minds that it’s not that they are for or against something that matters, but what they can marshal in support of their view.

Despite the frequency of trolls, as they are called, the Internet is becoming increasingly valuable by the day. Evidence new to me of this is the literary e.zine–oops, make that “webzine”–Big Bridge. I was startled to find out it has been around since late in 1997. I learned about it my usual way–by being asked to submit something to it. The end-result of that was a section in the zine containing work of eight minimalist infraverbal poets, with my commentary. Here’s what I wrong about it in my blog:

“This issue of Big Bridge has a huge amount of poetry-related stuff, including what looks to be a Major Autobiographical Essay (possibly book-length), by Karl Young. A few years ago, I often thought while gabbing on the phone with Karl that he had to write up what he was telling me about his life, for he was much more into the American Literary Scene of the late sixties and on than I was, and seemed to know more about it than anyone. He’s begun doing this, most ambitiously (so far as I know) in his Big Bridge piece, the full title of which is ‘Some Volumes of Poetry: A Retrospective of Publication Work by Karl Young.’ It has a wonderful–visual poem, I’d call it–on its ‘cover page.’ Following that is a fascinating introduction to what is going to be a continuing Big Bridge series about Karl’s life in publishing. Each chapter of it will cover some group of books he’s published, and their authors. (Note: I later learned it will get into many other literary subjects, as well. More on that in future columns, no doubt.)

“My impression from reading these first chapters of Karl’s is that they will include much purely personal material. I’m all for that. Mainly, however, they will help cement a number of worthy poets (such as d.a. levy) into their rightful place in literary history. There’s some irony in this, for Karl has long argued that many of the poets he will be writing about have been victims of rival factions hoping to disappear them, and succeeding. He is most excellent disproving himself. For this, much thanks is due the editor-in-chief of Big Bridge, Michael Rothenberg, for getting him to do so.

“I’d give Big Bridge an A+ for Karl’s contribution alone, but–yipes–I just now discovered it has my ‘Arithmepoetic Portrait of Blue’ in it, too! That is part of a set of 3 pieces from the latest Spore that its editor, Crag Hill, no doubt told me would be in the issue but I forgot about. It looks pretty good to me! Accompanying it are Donna Kuhn’s solitextual (i.e., ‘solely textual’) ‘loquacious talky,’ with ‘lefthanded voice’ among its dotty deftnesses, and Andrew Topel’s also dotty, also fine, ‘The Shape of My Thoughts 3,’ which I’d call an (excitingly) illustrated poem but probably everyone else in my poetry circles would call a visual poem. I’m listed as a ‘contributing editor,” too, which I didn’t expect. That should be no big deal but I have to admit that it makes me feel important–or, I should say, less unimportant.

“Big Bridge also has work from fairly well-known poets like Michael McClure, Joanne Kyger, Clark Coolige and Jerome Rothenberg, and there’s a section devoted to Tom Clark. It has some fiction and reviews, as well. Among the reviews are a group devoted to the recent work of Vernon Frazer, prominently including Improvisations, a thick large volume (1.5″ by 11″ by 8.5″) I got gifted with, one of the grand perks of being a Famous Reviewer.” It was (to add to what I said at my blog, and segue into a discussion of Improvisations) nice to see that one of the five discussions of Frazer, Dan Waber’s, of Frazer’s Avenue Noir, was not entirely positive, although much more so than not–not because I like poets to be dinged but because I don’t like cheering sections–as I may have made clear earlier in this column. . . . Jonathan Penton does an especially entertaining and informative review of Frazer’s magnum opus, the aforementioned Improvisations. Read it! An interview of Frazer also in the section is worth reading, too. In it, Frazer mentions Kerouac. Kerouac is at the heart of Improvisations, though the latter is much more cerebral and impersonal than Kerouac ever was. Impersonal in the sense of not concerned much with human relationships, etc. Here’s a randomly-chosen fragment from it: “a relayed flexure eat opprobrium and its formulaic textured mosaic.” Here’s one (of many) that boinked me (i.e. had a favorable effect on me): “pyramids against an archer’s sky.” The work starts with “I,” “I,” “IS” and “(by ear, sd Gloucester & I repeat” to give it an earned spring out of Olson/Pound. It is polyphonic, and typographically unconventional by mainstream standards. I don’t find its visio-poetic effects at the highest level, though–as a graphic artist here, Frazer is too Druckerianly rectilinear–that is, his text is generally laid out, as in the work of Johanna Drucker, like industrially-planned cities rather than wibble-wobbling into the high organisms that his best writing becomes.

I believe Frazer is probably less well-known even than I, so I am buoyed to find such a nice large section of a fairly widely-read publication’s being devoted to him. As I keep saying, the Internet will be the saviour of all us infra-marginals–thanks to people like Rothenberg and the others behind Big Bridge–and the great amount of space it can cheaply give to non-names.

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Chapter Three « POETICKS

Chapter Three

SHAKESPEARE, THE ACTOR/POET

The next plank in my detailed case for Shakespeare has to do with the question of whether or not anyone named William Shakespeare was an actor.

William Shakespeare, Actor

The London-based acting company variously known as the Lord Chamberlain’s Men (1594-96, 1597-1603), Lord Hunsdon’s Men (1596-97), and the King’s Men (1603-42) was responsible for the premieres of almost all of the Shakespearean plays. The evidence that establishes that some William Shakespeare not only was an actor, but was a prominent member of this company, is as follows, in chronological order:

(1) A record of 15 March 1595 indicates that the Treasurer of the Queen’s Chamber paid “William Kempe William Shakespeare & Richarde Burbage servants to the Lord Chamberleyne” for performances at court in Greenwich on 26 and 27 December (St. Stephen’s Day & Innocent’s Day) of the previous year. This is not the strongest evidence that a William Shakespeare was an actor, but puts him prominently with the right organization at the right time to have been one—in the company of two known actors.

(2) Next, we have an indenture that was drawn up 21 February 1599 for the Southwark property on which the Globe playhouse was erected. Though the land was owned by Sir Thomas Brend, his son Nicholas was the agent in the transaction that resulted in seven of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men’s becoming share-holders in the playhouse itself. The indenture states that half of the shares were divided among William Shakespeare, William Kempe, John Heminges, Augustine Phillips and Thomas Pope, while the other half went to the brothers Richard and Cuthbert Burbage. Only one share-holder was known not to be an actor, Cuthbert Burbage, and there are extant records verifying his being a theatrical entrepreneur of a kind none of the others was known to have been. Ergo: a strong if not explicit record for a William Shakespeare’s having been an actor.

(3) When Sir Thomas Brend died not long afterward, the post-mortem inventory of his property made on 16 May 1599 included his Bankside plot on which was “Una domo de novo edificata . . . in occupacione Willielmi Shakespeare et aliorum” (“a house [actually the Globe Theatre] newly built . . . in the occupation of William Shakespeare and others.”) Interesting that Shakespeare is the only one named on this document as occupying (or whatever that may mean if not oiterally occupying) the new home of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men—which, if it doesn’t make him an actor, certainly makes him an important theatrical personage.

(4) The first piece of direct evidence that a William Shakespeare was an actor (rather than someone associated with a company of actors but not necessarily an actor himself) is the record previously mentioned from the heralds’ office (which exists only in a copy made before 1700). It consists of a sketch of the Shakespeare coat of arms with the notation, “Shakespear ye Player/ by Garter,” the latter reference being to the Garter King of Arms, William Dethick, who granted the Shakespeares their coat of arms. At the time, Brooke was attacking Dethick for awarding coats of arms to undeserving families—such as a fishmonger’s and—in this case—one with an actor in it. Whatever we make of this document, it does establish that the Herald, Ralph Brooke, who was almost certainly responsible for the original (in 1601 or 1602), considered somebody named Shakespeare an actor. I will return to this record in much greater detail in a later chapter, one whose purpose is to show that the actor/poet William Shakespeare was the William Shakespeare born in Stratford, which this record helps confirm.

(5) The fifth piece of pertinent evidence is weaker: it is an entry of circa 1602 in John Manningham’s diary. Manningham has heard that during a performance of Richard III, “Shakespeare” had found out about a female admirer of Richard Burbage whom Burbage had invited to meet with him later; Shakespeare got there first and when Burbage showed up, knocked at the door and had a servant announce him as “Richard III,” Shakespeare sent back word that “William the Conquerer was before Richard III.” This indicates that some William Shakespeare was, in the public eye, intimately associated with Richard Burbage.

(6) Next is a Royal Warrant for a Patent and the Patent itself (19 May 1603) licensing the company of actors, “Laurence Fletcher, William Shakespeare, Richard Burbage, Augustine Phillipes, John Hemmings, Henrie Condell, William Sly, Robert Armyn, Richard Cowly and the rest of their associates” as the King’s Servants. Like most of the records so far, this one does not prove that the Shakespeare named was an actor (he could have been merely a prop man or something), but strongly suggests it, particularly as (a) all the others on the list were known to have been actors, and (b) he was listed in the second spot on the list, which meant he was considered the second most important person on it, such lists generally being hierarchical back then. (The man first on the list, Lawrence Fletcher, had acted for King James in Scotland, according to one record; apparently he joined the troupe upon James’s ascension, and was given high status for being a favorite of James’s.)

(7) Closely connected to the preceding record is the account of Sir George Home, Master of the Great Wardrobe, listing the names of “Players” who were given four yards of red cloth apiece for the investiture of King James in London on 15 March 1604. Here a William Shakespeare is named first among the same members of the company as before—making the document the strongest explicit record stating that a William Shakespeare was a . . . player.

(8) A little later, Augustine Phillips of the King’s Men died. In his will, executed 5 May 1605, proved 16 May 1605, he bequeathed “to my Fellowe William Shakespeare a thirty shillings peece in gould, To my Fellowe Henry Condell one other thirty shillinge peece in gould . . . To my Fellowe Lawrence Fletcher twenty shillings in gould, To my Fellowe Robert Armyne twenty shillings in gould . . . .” All of those besides Shakespeare whom Phillips characterizes as his “fellows” were actors in the King’s Men.

(9) That same year John Davies of Hereford’s The Civil Warres of Death and Fortune was published. Among its lines were the following:

          Some folled her by acting all mens parts     Stage Players            These on a Stage she rais’d (in scorne) to fall:            And made them Mirrors, by their acting Arts,            Wherin men saw their faults, though ne’r so small:            Yet soome she guerdond not, to their desarts;    W.S. R.B.            But, othersome, were but ill-actioned all:            Who while they acted ill, ill staid behinde,            (By custome of their maners) in their minde.

So: a poem by Davies concerning an actor W.S. whom he associated with an “R.B.” Later we’ll see that in another of Davies’s poems he refers to a W.S. and an R.B. who act—this time mentioning W.S.’s poetry. That a W.S. is mentioned but not a William Shakespeare makes this inarguably a weak piece of evidence, by itself, that some William Shakespeare was an actor, but it is evidence of that nonetheless. However, the fact that Davies twice uses W.S. and R.S. together in poems and, the second time he does so, makes it plain that Shakespeare and Burbage are meant, makes this first W.S./R.B set almost certainly a reference to Shakespeare and Burbage–as actors.

(10) Davies wrote in another poem (c. 1611):

          To Our English Terence, Mr Will. Shake-speare              Some say (good Will), which I, in sport, do sing,            Hadst thou not played some Kingly parts in sport,            Thou hadst been a companion for a King;            And been a King among the meaner sort.            Some others rail; but, rail as they think fit,            Thou hast no railing, but, a reigning Wit:            And honesty thou sowst, which they do reap;            So, to increase their stock which they do keep.

I think referring to a man’s playing a king in sport is pretty direct evidence that the man was an actor.

(11) A 1613 record (“Item, 31 Martii 1613 to Mr. Shakespeare in gold about my Lord’s impresa xlivs. To Richard Burbage for painting and making it, in gold xlivs.”) is further evidence that some William Shakespeare was an actor, albeit only circumstantial since the “Shakspeare” here not only is not identified as an actor but may have been some other Shakespeare, such as John Shakespeare, the royal bitmaker Charlotte Stopes turned up in her researches. But Burbage and Shakespeare were associated together too many times for it to be likely that here Burbage was for the first and apparently only time associated with some other Shakespeare, who happened to be working up some kind of clever/arty picture/motto combination of just the kind that Shakespeare the writer imaged so often in his plays and that Burbage would have had the talent to paint. So I count the association of the two fair evidence for a William Shakespeare’s having been an actor.

HLAS participant Rob Zigler agrees. In a post to someone arguing the contrary, he says, “To put it bluntly, the idea that the payee was not William Shakespeare is ridiculous. The fee was exactly split between Richard Burbage and Mr. Shakespeare, so we’re looking for people who are likely to have been partners. I’m sure that you’ve noticed that William Shakespeare appears in a number of documents as a partner with Richard Burbage. I’m also fairly sure that you’ve also noticed that John Shakespeare, the royal bitmaker doesn’t show up anywhere else partnered with Richard Burbage. It’s been quite a while since I’ve read what Stopes had to say, but my recollection is that John Shakespeare makes pretty frequent appearances in the accounts of the King and assorted nobles and I see that E.K. Chambers says that he doesn’t start appearing in those accounts until 1617. . . . Here’s yet another reason why Stopes idea doesn’t make any sense. Impresa shields were small and made out of pasteboard, so why would the construction process call for a man who made bits and spurs? What could he have done that would have been worth the relatively grand sum of 44 shillings?

“Actually, we know perfectly well what Mr. Shakespeare was being paid for. The task of creating an impresa shield can be logically divided into two parts; the design and the construction. The Rutland account tells us that Richard Burbage made and painted the shield, so the construction of the shield is entirely accounted for. That leaves only the design. Needless to say, designing a tournament impresa is something we know that poets sometimes did. (Jonson wrote an epigram in which he complained that he had not yet been paid for ‘a gulling imprese for you at tilt’.)

“If we knew nothing at all about Mr. Shakespeare outside of this document, we’d assume that he was probably some sort of poet. . . . Therefore, the Rutland document should count as part of a ‘personal literary paper trail’ connecting Will Shakespeare to the profession of writing.”  (Although I present it merely to show, again, that Shakespeare had a long-term relationship with an actor which strong suggests he, too, was an actor.)

(12) Then there are the records of a 1615 suit by Heminges’s daughter against her father which includes a William Shakespeare with other members of her father’s company as a shareholder in both the Blackfriars’ and Globe playhouses.

(13) Ironically, the next piece of evidence was discovered by an anti-Stratfordian researcher, Paul Altrocchi. It’s a Latin annotation in a copy of the 1590 edition of Camden’s Remains: “et Guglielmo Shakespear Roscio plane nostro.” Whoever wrote it was commenting on something Camden wrote about how Stratford is known entirely because of John of Stratford, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Hugh Clopton, the magistrate of London, its two “foster sons,” as Camden termed then in the Latin of his book. The aim of the annotation, which Alan Nelson translates as “and to William Shakespeare, our very own Roscius,” is clearly to credit Shakespeare with being a third eminent foster son of Stratford, for the word for “foster sons“ (“alumnis”) in Camden is underlined. Since Roscius was a famous Roman actor, the annotation is direct testimony that Shakespeare was an actor. Nelson believes (but isn’t positive) that the handwriting is that of the man who wrote his name in the book as its owner, Richard Hunt, who was vicar of Itchington from around 1620 until (probably) whenever he died; hence the annotation probably dates from between 1620-1650. This is late evidence but from a man born in 1596, give or take a year (according to his college record), so was a contemporary of Shakespeare’s. It thus should count as strong direct evidence for Shakespeare’s having been an actor.

(14) Two further pieces of direct evidence for the existence of the actor, William Shakespeare, are in the 1616 Folio of Ben Jonson’s Works, which contains cast lists for his plays. The cast list for Every Man in His Humor, performed in 1598, includes “Will Shakespeare, Aug. Philips, Hen. Condel, Will. Slye, Will. Kempe, Ric. Burbadge, Ioh. Hemings, Tho. Pope, Chr. Beeston, and Ioh. Duke.” Once again, incidentally, Shakespeare is listed first among his fellows. The cast list for Sejanus, performed in 1603, includes “Ric. Burbadge, Aug. Philips, Will. Sly, Ioh. Lowin, Will. Shake-Speare, Ioh. Hemings, Hen. Condel, and Alex. Cooke.”

(15) Then there is Shakespeare’s will in which he leaves money for rings to three of his “fellowes,” all of whom are documented actors.

(16) In 1623, a William Shakespeare was listed as an actor in the First Folio collection of plays by “William Shakespeare.”

(17) Finally, there is the (direct) evidence of Cuthbert Burbage’s answer in 1635 to a petition in which he declares that he and his brother Richard purchased the lease of the Blackfriars theatre in 1608, in partnership with “men Players, which were Heminges, Condell, Shakspeare, etc.” (Note the spelling of this Shakespeare, by the way.) No question here but that this Shakespeare was an actor.

(16) Hardly worth adding except to be as complete as possible is the fact that various records indicate that a William Shakespeare lived in or near the theatre district for many years. This is the weakest of corroborating evidence for his having been an actor—but still corroborating evidence. It includes notes in the London municipal tax-collectors’ records and the Langley Writ, which details a quarrel in or around the theatre districts of London that Shakespeare got entangled in. At least one of the others named in the writ was involved in the theatre business, I might add.

At this point I believe I have established beyond reasonable doubt that someone named William Shakespeare was an actor with the Lord Chamberlain’s Company and the two companies that company became,one after the other.  I have not established that William Shakespeare, the actor, was also William Shakespeare , the poet.  Of course, the existence of two William Shakespeares who were members of the same acting company, one acting in it, the other writing plays for it, would be a rather unusual coincidence. If that were the case, it seems highly unlikely that no record anywhere would distinguish one from the other. Surely, the First Folio, for instance, would have indicated that the Shakespeare whose name is in the list of actors was not the author. Ergo, it is necessary to find evidence that cancels this possibility. There isn’t much of it, but it seems to me well sufficient.

William Shakespeare, Actor/Poet

Perhaps the most famous—certainly the most discussed—piece of evidence that the writer Shakespeare was an actor is a letter to three playwrights that was part of the notorious pamphlet, Greenes Groatsworth of Wit, which was published in 1592. In a letter quoted in this book, its author warned three of his fellow playwrights not to trust actors, “for there is an upstart Crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tygers hart wrapt in a Players hyde, supposes he is as well able to bumbast out a blanke verse as the best of you : and being an absolute Johannes fac totum, is in his owne conceit the onely Shake-scene in a countrie.” The first passage in italics is a quotation (as indicated by its being italicized), though with one word changed (“womans” to “Players”); it is taken from Shakespeare’s 3 Henry VI, which was first published in the First Folio in 1623, but was almost certainly performed before 1592. The line’s belonging to Shakespeare coupled with the pun on his name, “Shake-scene,” make it near-unarguable that the Crow is Shakespeare.

The rest of the passage makes it near-unarguable that this Crow is both actor (since he has a player’s hide, and is introduced to indicate why actors can’t be trusted) and playwright ( because he is using his line from 3 Henry VI in competition with three playwrights). That he is spoken of as an upstart in 1592, around when Shakespeare of Stratford would have been starting out as a playwright strengthens the identification of this actor/poet with the Stratford man.

Unsurprisingly, the anti-Stratfordians have mounted a varied and woolly attack on The Groatsworth. Little of it makes much sense, but I’ve covered most of it in an essay I’ve written that’s on the Internet (at /essay-on-greenes-groatsworth-of-wit/. Also there is an essay of mine there (at on Henry Chettle’s preface to Kind-Harts Dreame (at /chettle%e2%80%99s-testimony-regarding-shakespeare/), which directly relates to the Groatsworth, and–I argue—corroborates it.

(2) The second piece of evidence firmly to establish Shakespeare as both actor and playwright by name is from a series of three anonymous plays performed at Cambridge between 1598 or so and 1601 or so called The Pilgrimage to Parnassus, The Return from Parnassus (Part 1), and The Return from Parnassus (Part 2), or the Parnassus Plays. The last of these is most pertinent here because one of its characters directly discusses Shakespeare as a playwright and actor. The character is Will Kempe, in real life a renowned player of comic roles for Shakespeare’s company. In the play he says, “Few of the vniuersity men pen plaies well, they smell too much of that writer Ovid, and that writer Metamorphoses, and talke too much of Proserpina & Iuppiter.  Why heres our fellow Shakespeare puts them all downe, I (aye) and Ben Jonson too . . .”

To me, the passage is pretty straight-forward. Kempe is depicted as a low-brow who mistakes a poem’s title for a poet’s name (but who is sufficiently cultured to at least have heard of Ovid, Proserpina and the rest). He claims that his fellow actor, Shakespeare (whose name is here spelled identically to its appearance at the end of the dedications to Shakespeare’s narrative poems), has substantially excelled (a main meaning of “put down”) the university playwrights, and shown Ben Jonson a trick or two as well. On the surface, then, “Kempe” unequivocably identifies Shakespeare, elsewhere in the Parnassus plays identified as a poet, and here outdoing playwrights and therefore himself a playwright, with the actor from the sticks, “our fellow.” Since “Kempe’s” Shakespeare was not a university man, he–of course–was not Oxford, Marlowe or Bacon.

(3) There is also the following poem, earlier mentioned, by John Davies of Hereford from his Microcosmos (1603):

          Players, I love yee, and your Qualitie,            As ye are Men, that pass time not abus’d:            And some I love for painting, poesie        W.S. R.B.            And say fell fortune cannot be excus’d,            That hath for better uses you refused:            Wit, Courage, good shape, good partes and all goode,            As long as all these goods are no worse us’d,            And though the stage doth staine pure gentle bloode            Yet generous yee are in minde and moode.

This has two marginal notes besides the one with the initials: “Simonides saith, that painting is a dumb Poesy, & Poesy a speaking painting” and “Roscius was said for his excellency in his quality, to be only worthy to come on the stage, and for his honesty to be more worthy then to come thereon (‘then’ being almost certainly a form of ‘than’).”

Like the previous lines quoted from Davies, these seem clearly to speak of the “Players” Richard Burbage (R.B.) and William Shakespeare (W.S), as—respectively—a painter and a poet, Thomas Middleton having written that Burbage was “excellent both player and painter” and all sorts of documents confirming that someone named William Shakespeare was a poet.

(4) Here, again, is the poem by Davies about Shakespeare as “Our English Terence”:

          To Our English Terence, Mr Will. Shake-speare              Some say (good Will). which I, in sport, do sing,            Hadst thou not played some Kingly parts in sport,            Thou hadst been a companion for a King;            And been a King among the meaner sort.            Some others rail; but, rail as they think fit,            Thou hast no railing, but, a reigning Wit:            And honesty thou sowst, which they do reap;            So, to increase their stock which they do keep.

To start with, Davies describes Shakespeare as a dramatist, as Terence was. Then, in line two of his poem, he says that Shakespeare had played some “Kingly parts in sport.” To “play a part” is, of course, what actors do. He did this “in sport,” as Davies writes his poem, which surely indicates that he played the “Kingly parts” as an artist—that is, his playing the parts in sport emphasizes his actions as those of an actor. Strongly supporting this is another of Davies’s “epigrams.” It is to the actor Robert Armin who acted in Shakespeare’s company, and is believed to have played the fools in Shakespeare’s plays after 1599. In it, Davies says of Armin that he “in sport . . . wisely play(s) the fool.” Elsewhere in the poem Davies makes it unambiguous that he considers Armin a player.

(5) Next, there is the First Folio’s introduction by John Heminges and Henry Condell. In it, they say, “We have but collected (his plays), and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians: without ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow alive, as was our SHAKESPEARE, by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage.” Heminges and Condell were actors; therefore, their calling the author, Shake-speare, their fellow, is eye-witness testimony that he, too, was an actor.

(6) Also in the First Folio is a poem by Leonard Digges which commences, “Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes (the actors Heminges and Condell) giue/ The world thy Workes . . .” Again, a person who was around at the time and almost certainly knew the people involved testifies that Shakespeare the poet was an actor.

(7) One other poem in the First Folio suggests that Shakespeare the writer was also Shakespeare the actor: Jonson’s eulogy. In it, Jonson speaks of calling up antiquity’s most illustrious playwrights “to heare (Shakespeare’s) Buskin tread,/ And shake a stage,” and goes on to refer to when Shakespeare’s “Sockes were on.” A “buskin” is a kind of boot worn by actors during the performance of tragedies, a “sock” a light slipper worn by actors when performing comedies. I should add, for fairness’s sake, that Jonson was probably using these images figuratively since the context makes it plain that he is calling the ancient poets up to observe the plays of Shakespeare, not Shakespeare’s acting. However, the poem does give Shakespeare actors’ footwear, so at least implies he had something to do with acting.

(8) Then, finally, we have in the 1640 edition of Shakespeare’s Poems the anonymous “An Elegie on the death of that famous Writer and Actor, M. William Shakespeare” (which must have been written before 1637, since it speaks of Ben Jonson, who died in 1637, in the present tense).

It is pretty plain, by now, I think, that William Shakespeare the actor was the same man as William Shakespeare the poet. Many anti-Stratfordians agree to that. What they won’t agree to is that William Shakespeare the actor/poet was William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon. For them, no references to the former mean much because they don’t include his address or otherwise “really” identify him. It matters not a jot to them that almost no reference to a writer of the time (or any time) identifies that writer with more than his name, except when there are two writers known to have shared a name such as John Davies of Hereford (c.1565 – 1618) and Sir John Davies (1569 – 1626). Ergo, we can’t rule out the possibility that the Stratford man’s sharing the name of the actor/poet is not the result of a bizarre coincidence, part of some kind of intricate conspiracy, or a combination of the two. Ergo, I will need another chapter to put this identity of the two beyond reasonable doubt.

Next Chapter here.
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