Memoirous

 Sort of a wonky piece that I adapted for New Critique from an artist residency on Great Spruce Head Island in 2017. Link here: https://newcritique.co.uk/2020/11/06/essay-in-early-august-among-the-spruce-reading-schuylers-memoirs-on-great-spruce-head-island-jane-hertenstein/ [Essay] ‘In early August among the spruce’: Reading Schuyler’s Memoirs on Great Spruce Head Island — Jane Hertenstein A Personal Introduction Following the US presidential election in 2016, I was jolted off-kilter, steamrolled. There was a Before, then an After. That winter, I sat and stared out my dreary window upon a busy Chicago street corner, where a sign in huge lettering read: ‘Christ Died for Our Sins’. I recalled James Schuyler’s poem, ‘February’: ‘A chimney, breathing a little smoke. / The sun, I can’t see / making a bit of pink / I can’t quite see in the blue’ . [1]

EMPATHY AND NEW YEAR James Schuyler A notion like that of empathy  inspires great distrust in us, because it connotes  a further dose of irrationalism and  mysticism. Lévi-Strauss Whitman took the cars all the way from Camden and when he got here or rather there, said, “Quit quoting,” and took the next back, through the Jersey meadows which were that then. But what if it is all, “Maya, illusion?” I doubt it, though. Men are not so inventive. Or few are. Not knowing a name for something proves nothing. Right now it isn’t raining, snowing, sleeting, slushing, yet it is doing something. As a matter of fact it is raining snow. Snow from cold clouds that melts as it strikes. To look out a window is to sense wet feet. Now to infuse the garage with a subjective state and can’t make it seem to even if it is a little like What the Dentist Saw a dark gullet with gleams and red. “You come to me at midnight” and say, “I can smell that after Christmas letdown coming like a h...

Monday, December 25, 2017 That After-Christmas Let Down Empathy and New Year A notion like that of empathy inspires great distrust in us, because it connotes a further dose of irrationalism and mysticism. Lévi-Strauss Whitman took the cars all the way from Camden and when he got here or rather there, said, “Quit quoting," and took the next back, through the Jersey meadows which were that then. Butwhat if it is all, "Maya, illusion?" Idoubt it, though. Men are not so inventive. Orfew are. Not knowinga name for something proves nothing. Right now it isn't raining, snowing, sleeting, slushing, yet it isdoing something. As a matter of factit is raining snow. Snowfrom cold cloudsthat melts as it strikes.To look out a window is to sense wet feet. Now to infusethe garage with a subjective state and can't make it seem toeven if it is a little like What the Dentist Sawa dark gullet with gleams and red. "You come to me at midnight" and say, "I can smell...

The Autobiography of Charles Darwin and Selected Letters , edited by Francis Darwin, New York: Dover Publications, 1958. (First published in 1892.) Schuyler had a New Year’s Day tradition of going to the Hazan’s (Jane Freilicher)—in fact one of his last Diary entries talks about getting dressed to go over to their soiree. On January 1, 1968 he wrote about starting Darwin’s autobiography. This notation eventually turned into the poem, “Empathy and New Year”. Here is a snippet: Got coffee and started reading Darwin: so modest, so innocent, so pleased at the surprise that he should grow up to be him. How grand to begin a new year with a new writer you really love. It is the intimate simplicity that I love about Schuyler’s poems. I am given a glimpse into the interior of someone living generations past and dwelling in a landscape foreign to me. It is the mundane details that give me a landing place, a space to inhabit. I feel solidly anchored in New York City la...

Empathy and New Year     A notion like that of empathy  inspires great distrust in us, because it connotes  a further dose of irrationalism and  mysticism. Lévi-Strauss Whitman took the cars  all the way from Camden  and when he got here  or rather there, said,  “Quit quoting," and took the next  back, through the Jersey meadows  which were that then. But what if it is all, "Maya,  illusion?" I doubt it, though.  Men are not  so inventive. Or few are. Not knowing a name for something proves nothing.  Right  now it isn't raining, snowing, sleeting, slushing,  yet it is doing something. As a matter of fact it is raining snow. Snow from cold clouds that melts as it strikes. To look out a window is to sense  wet feet. Now to infuse the garage with a subjective state  and can't make it seem to even if it is a little like  What the Dentist Saw a dark gullet with gleams and red.  "Y...

Empathy and New Year By James Schuyler --an excerpt New Year is nearly here and who, knowing himself, would endanger his desires resolving them …. Awake at four and heard a snowplow not rumble— a huge beast at its chow and wondered is it 1968 or 1969? for a bit. 1968 had such a familiar sound. Got coffee and started reading Darwin: so modest, so innocent, so pleased at the surprise that he should grow up to be him . How grand to begin a new year with a new writer you really love. A snow shovel scrapes: it's twelve hours later and the sun that came so late is almost gone: a few pink minutes and yet the days get longer. Coming from the movies last night snow had fallen in almost still air and lay on all, so all twigs were emboldened to make big disclosures. It felt warm, warm that is for cold the way it does when snow falls without wind. "A snow picture," you said, under the clung-to elms, "worth painting." ...