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Richard Barrett, Marcus Slease and Steve Fowler discussing Elephanche
Richard. Hi Marcus and Steve. We’re talking today
about your joint work Elephanche published by Department Press. I was familiar
with both your work prior to reading the text yet nevertheless was taken
completely by surprise by Elephanche – it seemed so different to me; that’s
different to both the work of your own that I’d read before and different to
pretty much anything else I’d come across previously. So, I have two initial
questions then: how did Elephanche come about? I mean in terms of what
influences etc fed into it? And, thinking of continuities and differences, how
do you two view Elephanche in the context of the rest of your work?
Marcus. For me
Elephanche is an extension of my fascination with the poet Kenneth Koch’s
crossing and recreating genres. He has done some terrific comics that are
somewhere between poetry and comics. He wrote a terrific novel, The Red
Robbins, where Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are mortal enemies in a
post-colonial context. His plays are unlike any other poet’s plays. He once
said in an interview that we tend to remember only a few minutes of a play. He
wanted his plays to be a condensed form of a play. Sometimes his plays are
between minimalist poetry and vaudeville theatre. In all of his work he
displays a light touch. What others have called a non-oppositional avant garde.
Steven. Hey
Richard! Well I think Marcus’ passion for Koch & co really seemed to align
with an interest I had in theatre that was clearly against ‘theatre’, most
especially the avant garde tradition of the 20th century, people
like Ionesco and Ghelderode are big for me. I kind of hate theatre, I certainly
hate going to the theatre. But I read the texts of plays, and have found so much
in quite obscure playwrights. In a way reading these plays through the lens of
poetry I came to similar conclusions as Marcus, that the play as a form can be
eminently, and vitally poetic, only my influences were less aware of this
context. I thought Elephanche could allow me to take my own poetic into a new
form and somehow subside it, or conceal it, knowing most readers would be
thinking through the elephant in the room, that the lines were meant to be
acted out, and that would allow a kind of aesthetic juxtaposition to take place
between contextual expectation and reality.
R. How did you two come to collaborate? Did you recognise a complementarity
about each other’s work which suggested a collaboration might be fruitful or
rather was the opposite the case – you were curious to see what would result
from a coming together of differing styles?
S. Elephanche
truly began from Marcus and I being friends I think, I’ve got so much time for
him as a human being and liking his work too, appreciating its quality and its
difference from my own work, I really wanted to develop something substantial
with him as a collaboration. I think the reason I’m in poetry as a community
act is to find people who write so well they make me think I could never come
close to achieving what they do, because of the originality of their expression
and voice, or whatever you’d call it. I find this in Marcus’ work.
M. Steven and
I began working on the plays over a year ago and performed a few at the
Writer’s Forum. I think we had two very different aesthetics at work. I think
one of the differences is maximalist versus minimalist. I was working with
minimalism and Steven was working with maximalism. Another difference might be
that Steven was working within the tradition of the historical avant garde and
I was working within first and second generation NY School poetry.
As you mention, I think there is a precedent for this
with the work of Tom Raworth. Raworth is obviously influenced by NY School
poetry (among others and vice versa) but his writing is nothing like what we
might typical associate with NY School poetics. His poetics is something
entirely unique both on the page and in performance. I can only hope we achieve
some of Tom’s originality in our plays. For me he is a huge inspiration.
R. And could you tell me how you both managed the collaborative process
on this project – maybe talking as well about how this project compared to
previous collaborations you’ve been involved with?
S. Yeah in the
last year I’ve been involved in over eighty collaborations. At first we
exchanged whole plays, going from one to the next and sitting them aside each
other in the collection. More recently we truly integrated those texts, writing
over and through our lines, adapting our own poetics to each others, depending
on the nature of each separate piece. There are 9 plays, and I think the book
is actually quite concise, it captures a certain narrative between us that
actually ends up being very sympathetic.
M. In terms of
process, Steven wrote a play and then I wrote a play. We went back and forth
one play at a time. Gradually our plays started to speak to each other. For example,
Steven wrote a play with a character named Marcus in Trieste and I wrote a play
with a character named Steven Fowler on the London tube using the poetry of
Lisa Jarnot. The creative translation of Tim Atkins and the disparate collage
techniques of Jeff Hilson were an influence in this process for me.
The final editing stage was more radical. Steven realised
that we needed to collaborate more fully. So I edited the plays he wrote. I
inserted some of the minimalist non-oppositional aesthetic of NY School
poetics. Often this took the form of random lines from selected poems of Frank
O’ Hara. These were chosen randomly. Or perhaps random is the wrong word. I
don’t know if random exists. They were chosen without the interference of the
sometimes rational fascist mindset. Steven edited the plays I wrote and
expanded them with his maximalist approach. I think we both realised we did not
want to iron out the tensions between the maximalist and minimalist or the
humour/light touch and grotesqueness. An
issue for me in collaboration (whether writing with various selves or another
human body) is whether to keep it chunky or smooth it out. Both chunky and
smooth have their merits. I would say we mostly have chunky here.
R. What general thoughts on collaborations do you have? I mean, what
gains and losses (if any) does the collaborative process bring?
S. All gains
for me. The collaborator becomes a source for new work, and new work is the
life of life. I grow when engaged in that process with another human being, as long
as I admire them or their work as a human being, then it can only allow me
perspective on my own ideas and work, and more understanding of why I like what
I like and write what I write.
R. The cover image of Elephanche – that’s by Tom Raworth right? How did
Tom become involved with the project?
S. Tom has
been immensely generous to me over the last year or so, I’ve had the pleasure
of visiting with him a few times, having some tea and scones and that. One
afternoon the conversation between myself, Tom, his wife and my wife ended up
exploring the notion of an elephant who was employed on a barge floating down
the rhine crushing grapes to make wine while firing grapes from its trunk at
tourists, and similar things. The Elephanche artwork was born that night I
believe and Tom was kind enough to let me use it for the book.
R. Raworth’s presence does seems entirely fitting though of course given
the use you make in Elephanche of text from O’Hara and Berrigan (someone, I
forget who now sorry, having once wondered how Tom Raworth could ever be
described as anything other than a New York poet). Could you talk a little bit
about why the New York poets for you both at just this particular time? What
was it that drew you to their work now?
S. Honestly my
knowledge of the New York poets in quite shallow, they don’t exert an influence
over me because I seem to be saving them for the future and they didn’t
naturally come up in my strange, individuated reading arc. I will do though,
Marcus and Tim Atkins have been generous in allowing me educated access to that
world of work.
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(Marcus Slease & SJ Fowler. Photo by Alexander Kell)
