Üç Selvi / Three Cypresses by Nâzım Hikmet
An animation by artist Zeynep Sıla Demircioğlu for a piece by Turkey’s greatest 20th-century poet, Nâzım Hikmet. The bleakness of the content is counter-balanced by the richness of the recitation by Geneo Erkal—all those lovely Turkish consonants. As a tree-lover there’s no way I couldn’t post this as soon as I saw it. Here’s Demircioğlu’s statement, on Vimeo and her website:
Communist poet and writer Nâzım Hikmet Ran’s poem “Üç Selvi” is about three cypress trees. In his metaphoric narrative, at first, trees live in harmony with nature. After their destruction joy of life is gone and the world is deprived of the sound of cypress leaves. Although Hikmet wrote this mournful poem in 1933, readers can find different meanings and enemies when they look at the dark side of Turkish collective memory.
What I fear most is becoming “a poet” by Katerina Gogou
This took the top honors in the 9th Ó Bhéal poetry film competition last fall, and I can see why. It’s a masterclass in bringing still images to life—and they’re powerful images, too: flaming trumpets facing off; an empty chair birthing clouds or smoke juxtaposed with the text “I fear that i might learn to use meter and rhythm / and thus I will be trapped within them”; clouds circling overhead as the words “they see to us being ashamed for not working” appear. Filmmaker Janet Lees‘ deep images are usually in service to her own texts, but this was a commissioned film, as the Vimeo description makes clear:
Filmmaker: Janet Lees
Poet: Katerina Gogou
Translator: G Chalkiadakis
Composer/musician: Tromlhie
Produced by +the Institute for Experimenal Arts and commissioned by the art platform filmpoetry.org, as part of the Digital Culture Programme, Ministry of Culture / Greece.Katerina Gogou (1949-1993) was Greece’s greatest modern anarchist poetess. Her poems have become synonymous with the radical culture of Greece and with Exarcheia, the Athens neighbourhood known as the anarchist quarter. Born into the Nazi occupation of Greece, she lived through the years of far right military junta oppression and the country’s resurgent anarchist movement in the 1980s. An activist herself, she became a prophet of the movement and her poems anthems for it. She died of an overdose on 3 October 1993.
The judges’ comments may be read in the announcement post on +the Institute for Experimental Arts website:
There were so many beautiful filmpoems entered into the competition, I loved watching every single one of them, and appreciated all of the work, imagination and innovation that went into making them. In the end, the piece called What I fear most is becoming a poet stood out as a stunning example of filmpoetry as a unique art form. Janet Lees has created a powerful visual rendering of Katerina Gogou’s poem. I was both floored and inspired by it. Comhghairdeas ó chroí!
Paula Kehoe
What I fear most is becoming “a poet” is such an evocative and moving piece. Katerina Gogou’s poem, enormous in itself which speaks so intimately about the poet’s world of peril and uncertainty, met with this filigreed balance of soft pianissimo and perfectly-paced typography, the haunting, completely captivating visuals, the almost hesitant text (in places), and the very absence of voice bringing us so much closer to the poet’s inner sanctum… all just fantastically done. A highly worthy winner.
Paul Casey
From the same source, here’s Janet’s director’s note:
For me this poem resounds with the psychological distress Katerina experienced as a result of experiencing and bearing witness to collective trauma. Despair and loneliness hover over every line, but there is also a core of steel in the shape of her unwavering conviction and commitment to the cause and to her people. To bring this great poem to life as a poetry film, I drew on my own urban images and footage. In animating the stills, I used the recurring motif of fire and smoke to indicate rebellion and oppression/passion and despair. I worked with the composer/musician Tromlhie to bring out the poem’s emotional journey in musical form and to complement the poem’s slow build – layer upon layer of the fear of ‘becoming “a poet”’.
The northern Ireland-based CAP Monthly interviewed Janet after her win about how she came to poetry film and how she looks at it. It’s well worth a read.
murder girl gets wired by Caroline Reid
murder girl gets wired is written and spoken by award-winning South Australian poet and performer, Caroline Reid. She describes its subject as “hard-edged urban youth culture in late night small city Australia”. The film-maker in the collaboration goes by the artist name featherfurl, and also makes music and gif art.
The eerie suburban images are night-time photographs that are given filmic motion via subtle and unusual visual effects. The soundtrack, engineered by Jeffrey Zhang, is a stand-out feature, with two softly-layered voice tracks accompanying the central reading of the poem.
The inventive use of simple media elements, coupled with the powerful writing, creates outstanding videopoetry in this piece.
murder girl gets wired is the second film we have featured at Moving Poems from Caroline Reid and collaborators. The first was Lost, a finalist in the Ó Bhéal Poetry-Film competition in Ireland in 2019, and part of Zebra Poetry Film Festival in Germany in 2020.
춤의 독방 / Chumui dokbang (Solitary Dance Cell) by Lee Hyemi
An adaptation of a poem from Lee Hyemi‘s first collection Ultraviolet by filmmaker Hongrae Lee Kim.
Dave: Lovely dark, claustrophobic ambience. The poet’s voice in the soundtrack is joined by another for a stunning effect, a dialogue that sounds like a monologue.
Marie: I found a second viewing rewarding. That odd and wordless interlude around 01:54 is intriguing, suspending time. I especially like the voices and the placement of them in the aural field, their resonances sometimes bouncing side to side almost in unison. This binaural effect gives emphasis to the text in a way that feels more physical than cognitive, as the sound resonances ping across the brain.
Here are the complete credits from Vimeo:
Performed by HeeJun Lee
Narrated by Hyemi Lee / Luna Bae
Video Catchers : Filmical / PJ soon
Translated by
Helen Hwayeon, Julia Clark and Son HyeJeong,
Sal Kang, Youngseo Lee, Ainee Jeong,
Hoyoung, Shreya Mapadath, Jaewon Che,
Dabin Jeong, Deborah Kim, Victoria Caudle, Anna Toombs
Director of Choreography : HeeJun LeeA film by Hongrae Lee Kim
That’s quite a translation committee! But the Vimeo description ends with this note: “It’s a small gift for Chogwa.” And chogwa is “a quarterly e-zine featuring one Korean poem & multiple English translations.” Here’s issue 7, 12 translations of “Chumui dokbang” by Lee Hyemi. (Note the discussion about how to translate the title. Other possibilities include “Dancing in an Empty Room” and “Dance of Confinement.”)
The overall editor of chogwa, by the way, Soje, translated Lee Hyemi’s second collection, Unexpected Vanilla, which was shortlisted for the 2021 National Translation Prize in Poetry. Here’s a review and here’s a selection. Both Soje and Lee seem like poets to watch.
Θυμήσου, Σώμα… (Remember, Body…) by C. P. Cavafy
Body, remember not only how much you were loved
not only the beds you lay on.
but also those desires glowing openly
in eyes that looked at you,
trembling for you in voices—
only some chance obstacle frustrated them.
Now that it’s all finally in the past,
it seems almost as if you gave yourself
to those desires too—how they glowed,
remember, in eyes that looked at you,
remember, body, how they trembled for you in those voices.
translation by George Barbanis
Dancer/choreographer Konstantina Ntinapogia directs this collaborative “embodiment” of a poem by the great 20th-century Greek poet Cavafy. Since the English translation is not included in subtitles, only in the Vimeo description, viewers without Greek may, if they choose, rely on the choreography alone for meaning. And we’ve always been interested in dance as a medium for poetry here. Like poetry film itself, dance can be seen as a form of translation. Similarly, this could be seen as a music video, since the commission included an original composition based on the poem by artist(s) of the director’s choice. The band Ntinapogia chose to work with is called Lost Bodies. She notes:
As part of the 30 Days of Poetry project coordinated by choreographer Olga Spyraki, I was invited to dance and choreograph in collaboration with a musician of my choice. Our instructions were for the music to be original and made on a poem that we would bring together with the composer. This particular poem is by the famous Greek poet Konstantine P. Cavafy entitled “Thimisou, Soma…” that means “Remember, Body…” and my screen-dance is 1:37 minutes [long]. […]
How could this poem be embodied? How does body memory wake up? What is the color of passion? were some of my most basic questions. In this particular video-dance I worked not only as a dancer and choreographer but also as a director / cinematographer since I also dealt with the perspectives of the space, the use of the camera and I also did the editing. I am incredibly pleased with the process of research and composition.
Music: Lost Bodies
Song: “Thimisou, Soma…”
Dancer/Performer: Konstantina Ntinapogia
Camera: Marilena Dionysopoulou
Montaj: Konstantina Ntinapogia, Ioannis Makropoulos
Marie Craven and I were both struck by Ntinapogia’s adept editing. Marie observed that
The overview needed in choreography, the shapes and structures involved, are parallel to film-making, and especially film editing. And of course rhythm is a central aspect of film editing (perhaps the central aspect), as with dance.
Dirge Without Music by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Amanda Palmer reads Edna St. Vincent Millay in this animation by the award-winning children’s book author and artist Sophie Blackall, with music by Tom McRae. It’s last month’s installment for the wonderful Universe in Verse series, which we’ve been kind of sleeping on here. Maria Popova notes in her introduction to the series on her website that
The Universe in Verse was born in 2017 as a charitable celebration of the wonder of reality through stories of science winged with poetry — part resistance (to the assault on science and the natural world in an atmosphere of “alternative facts” and vanishing ecological protections) and part persistence (in sustaining the felicitous expression of nature in human nature, with our capacity for music and mathematics, for art and hope.)
For four seasons (below, in reverse chronology), it remained a live gathering — thousands of embodied universes of thought and feeling, huddled together in a finite space built in a faraway time when Whitman’s living atoms walked the streets outside.
In this interlude between gatherings, as we face the biological and ecological realities of life with widened eyes, I have entwined visions with my friends at On Being to reimagine the spirit of The Universe in Verse in a different incarnation, a year in the making: a season of stories about epoch-making events, discoveries, and unsung heroes from the history of science — this common record of our search for truth and the native beauty of reality — each illustrated in poetry’s lovely abstract language, with an animated poem.
Be sure to read the rest and check out all the films. We’ll share more of them here as time permits. I also strongly recommend Popova’s essay introducing “Dirge Without Music,” which for its “unsung hero” presents an engaging account of mathematician Emmy Noether (1882–1935). A stanza from Millay’s poem was read at her funeral.
