Stigmata Errata Etcetera

In his introduction to this book by Bill Knott, which includes 16 collages (apart from the one gracing the cover) by poet/artist Star Black, Mark Doty writes: “Knott builds out of fragments; he erases himself. How appropriate that these poems should be accompanied by a suite of collages, in which bits and pieces both make a new whole and remain, distinctly bits and pieces. Star Black’s evocative work here draws upon the vocabulary of surrealism, but like Knott himself she turns those strange juxtapositions and eruptions of dreaming to her own uses.”

I can’t remember the last time I came across a book that dared to present itself as a collaboration of artistic visions. The one popular title that comes to mind is Anne Sexton’s Transformations, which included a series of drawings by Barbara Swan. More recently, Pat Mora’s Aunt Carmen’s Book of Practical Saints, which I mentioned in an earlier post, contained colorful images (taken by different photographers) of pieces from the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
But this project is unique in that the collages are not simply included to decorate the book, nor can I imagine, truth be told, the poems breathing independently of the art—not after they have formed their union here so intimately. This is an ekphrastic project in which I am uncertain what came first—the art work or the art word? Or maybe the two artists were laboring through parallel journeys, knowing all along that in the end the avenues would merge and intertwine to become inextricable.
Black’s collages (as Doty notes) are images clustering to form a larger one—an impression rather, of smaller wholes—much like words come together to make the poem. But when the poem itself is about the absence of words, then a mirroring happens:
Wait Till Tonight
Sometimes a dream will show me
the words I need to begin and end and
then take them away and leave just one
word, or, like last night, three or four:
“the arms of care.” That’s all. There
were lots more but they vanished when
my eyes opened; they were of course
the words I need here now to justify
this. How can I forgive myself for
forgetting them, forgetting that which
might have made me whole for a while
holding you all in my arms of care?
And then there’s the poem “Perspective,” which drops images down on the page much like the images “drop” on the sheet that will become the collage:
I must look down to see
the things that fall
into the well
(coins
teardrops
stopsigns
sunsets
planets
etcets)
because when I don’t
look down to see
them suddenly
they all
start to fall
on me
Black’s collages are elegant representations of an otherworld where dreamscapes, no matter how gravity-defying, are within reach, their language as sensory and startling as their companions—Knott’s poems. This book is not to be read—it’s to be experienced:
in v’s we leave we leave we leave
wherever
our favors have carried us
(From Stigmata Errata Etcetera, published by Saturnalia Books, 2007.)