Written by Tiffany Amolsch, guest curator
Poet Marie Howe describes poetry as “a cup of language to hold what can’t be said”. It could be argued that all forms of art create containers for the inexpressible. Poets create cups of mystery with words, whereas musicians use notes, and painters paint. The medium may change, but the purpose is the same. But what happens when two art forms meet? When for example, poetry encounters photography, and the two forms inform and enliven the other?
The Literatures and Languages Library invites you to explore these questions by visiting their fall exhibit, “Image + Verse: Poetry Inspired by Art”, located at the entrance to the reading room in the Main Library. The exhibit includes poems inspired by a range of art, from Van Gogh’s Starry Night and William Shakespeare’s Othello to songs by the post-punk 80’s band Breaking Circus, and the Muppet’s Movie.
The literary term for poetry inspired by art is ekphrasis, which has its origin in Greek and means “description” or “to describe”. Although description is an important component of art inspired poetry, ekphrastic poetry goes beyond merely describing art to an active engagement with it, grappling with the content or theme of the work to make sense of it for themselves and for readers. When I read ekphrastic poetry, I get the sense that the poet is trying to get inside the artist’s head, understand what they are trying to tell us. While they seek to understand the artist’s perspective, they also bring their own lens to the work and come to their own conclusions. These poems often combine vivid descriptions and lines of admiration with critique, examining the artist’s intent and underlying biases.
One of my favorite examples of ekphrastic poetry that does this is Bellocq’s Ophelia by former U.S. Poet Laureate Natasha Trethewey. Inspired by photographs taken by E.J. Bellocq in the early 1900s of prostitutes in New Orleans’s red-light district, the book explores the premise that Bellocq’s photographs may have been commissioned by a brothel that used them as advertisements.
In her poems, Trethewey invents a backstory for one of the women in the photographs, giving her the name Ophelia and writing many of the poems from her perspective. As a daughter of a black mother and white father, the author imagines the life of this unnamed women who likely would have worked in one of the few colored brothels in New Orleans, where light skinned black women were viewed as exotic curiosities. When sitting for Bellocq, Ophelia compares her experience to a contortionist she once saw in a sideshow and remembers marveling at how the contortionist “could make himself small, fit/into cramped spaces, his lungs/barely expanding with each tiny breath”. Toward the end of the book, Ophelia saves up enough money to purchase a Kodak and creates her own self portrait, freeing herself from the “ornate boxes” of Bellocq’s photographs.
By giving her a name and a voice, Trethewey humanizes one of the subjects of Bellocq’s photographs, giving her a life beyond the few constructed images we have of her, but this is just one example of what ekphrastic poetry can do. To explore more art-inspired poetry titles this fall, visit the rich collection of poetry in the Literatures and Languages Library.
