Hello
Gentle Reader
The
late poet and Nobel Laureate, Wisława Szymborska, was often noted for being shy
or reclusive. She never traveled abroad as a visiting lecturer; she rarely gave
interviews, and was fiercely protective of her privacy. For this she was
famously called: “the Greta Garbo of world poetry.” Yet this depiction is often
unkindly inappropriate, as it paints the poet as a dangerous brown-recluse
spider, where she would attack with venom and vitriol, in the event someone
trespassed on her shadow, let alone approached her. She may have declined
interviews, she may have been shy (even bashful), and she certainly had no
desire to engage or lecture on aspects of poetry; but she was never hostile. In
fact friends remember the late poet as an incredibly generous, kind, warm and
personable person, who possessed a endearing wit and gentle humour, spiked with
a keen eye for the ironic. She just happened to facilitate a distinction
between her poetry and herself. She firmly believed that her poems stated
enough on their own, and never required her assistance in promotion or
clarification. She once stated in an interview, when asked why didn’t give
interviews (or how rare they were) she is said to have replied (according to
herself in the documentary: “End and Beginning: Meeting Wisława Szymborska):
“Because
at the time of my birth I signed a contract . . . and there was no mention of
giving interviews.”
She
would further state:
“And
anyway, an interview is only interesting if the author—the person who is
interviewed, talks about himself. And I don’t like talking about myself.”
She
further ruminates that journalist ask about politics, which is yet another topic
she does not prefer to discuss either. She often joked about the lives of poets
when compared to scientists or artists; where great films can be made about
their lives and their discoveries, or their artistic achievements. But for a
poet she ironically coos in her Nobel lecture:
“But
poets are the worst. Their work is hopelessly unphotogenic. Someone sits at a
table or lies on a sofa while staring motionless at a wall or ceiling. Once in
a while this person writes down seven lines only to cross out one of them
fifteen minutes later, and then another hour passes, during which nothing
happens ... Who could stand to watch this kind of thing?”
(Szymborska, Wisława: The Poet and The World. Retrieved from nobelprize.org.)
Even
during her Nobel Lecture in nineteen-ninety six, the poet was hesitant to
discuss the subject of poetry. Her lecture is known as being of the shortest
lectures ever given. Even during her lecture, where she was to discuss poetry
in some regard or another, she skeptically and humorously danced around the
subject, evading any concrete statement on the matter. Yet she entertains
poets, with regard to humanity as a whole. Though she confesses poetry in
itself is not a profession, and therefore makes it sound rather frivolous.
Despite this, she assures though in attendance and reading at later dates: all poets wish to be read, appreciated and
understood. She mentions the eccentric poets of previous years; ones who,
dressed up in a variety of costumes and dresses; and behaved unconventionally.
But they too would have to resign themselves from the party at one time or
another shut the door and confront the white page, which is the only aspect of
poetry that matters.
When
it came to inspiration, Wisława Szymborska makes it quite clear no
profession—especially poetry—has any monopoly on the matter. Yet, she expresses
thanks to how grateful all poets (as well as: writers, artists, scientists,
academics, philosophers) should be, in order to pursue their inclinations and
predictions, which allows them to transcend the daily grind of existence. Where
she counts them as ‘Fortunes darlings.’
Wisława
Szymborska’s reticence on the matter of poetry and her reluctance to
participating in interviews, worked in her favour. She steadily and skillfully
avoided the pitfalls of falling into the snares of windbaggery—so in the event
she did decide to discuss a matter or offer some insight or perspective on the
matter of poetry, it was never stale or being reiterated. Her statements
carried original thought and lighthearted gravity on the subject. Her gem like
statements are few and far between, and are tragically brief. She never spoke
for long on the subject of poetry, and rarely extended or elucidated her
statements. Yet thankfully, towards the end of her life, she participated in a
documentary by the Dutch journalist and filmmaker, John Albert Jansen, called:
“End and Beginning: Meeting Meeting Wisława Szymborska,” which has been
produced and distributed (I believe) by Jansen’s film company: Oogland Film
Productions.
The
other night, I had the wonderful opportunity to watch the above mentioned
documentary. In just a short fifty-five minutes, Wisława Szymborska becomes a
subject of film, all the while evading the microscope like glare and curiosity
of the camera. When she is on the screen, her attention is directed away from
the camera towards a friend (Ewa Lipska) or perhaps John Albert Jansen himself.
She rarely looks into the camera, but when she does there’s a mischievous glint
in her eyes, as she tells an anecdote or a joke. She is curiously evasive, and
when is shown she appears distant, as she declines to acknowledge the cameras
presence for long. It becomes concrete: Wisława Szymborska, poet and person;
despite being a subject of a film is not a spectacle or an exhibit. This casual
distance, however, only strengthens the intimacy of the documentary. Rather
than making Szymborska a subject open to questioning and interrogations; while having
her talk to her friends or other guests in her apartment, allows the viewers to
become a casual observer of her usual interactions.
The
films subject as already discussed is Wisława Szymborska, who artfully dodges
and weaves away from the harsh glares of the camera. The film is intercepted
with poetry readings, commentary from Szymborska and friends, as well as poetic
scenes of urban and rural landscapes. In one particular scene, Ewa Lipska
escorts camera and viewer to: Krupnicza Street number 22, where she informs
them that it was a famous residence of many post-war polish writers, including Wisława
Szymborska and her then husband Adam Włodek (they divorced in 1958, but remained
good friends throughout their lives. He died in 1986). The scene is winter, and
the sky a grey twilight. Ewa Lipska, stands beneath curved art nouveau like
balconies, while the snow acts on its nature, and beckons gravities calls. In
the distance sires ring out. The landscape is bleak and draped in greys, the
concrete buildings lament better times. Yet, Lipska remembers fondly the
memories of the time, when Wisława Szymborska lived there, and when Lipska
herself inhabited the place later on. The parties they had were famous, she
states; and remembers how one woman—a real looker—name Lola, had an admirer who
would come and sit on the iron spiral staircase, and play his guitar for her.
These private concerts usually took place after he was released from jail.
Of
course no film about the poet could ever miss discussing the Nobel Prize. With
humour found in her poems, friends describe the situation during the Nobel
dinner, where Wisława Szymborska, lit a cigarette after the dinner. Of course,
there was no smoking permitted in the gala dinner, in the Stockholm town hall.
Dinner is served in gilded plates. Yet the dear poet, seated next to his
majesty the King, lit a cigarette anyway. The king, according to the friends,
seeing no other way out of the situation, lit a cigarette alongside her; and
with slight humour there two wisps of smoke could be seen drifting in the
sterile hall. This is just one of the many stories shared (not in the
documentary but all around) with regards to Wisława Szymborska and the Nobel
Prize—often referred to as: The Stockholm Tragedy, by friends and
acquaintances.
The
film closes with friends describing the poet. Each one comments on her
remarkability as a legend of world poetry, while retaining her discretion and
independence, where she is not enveloped or surrounded by gossip. One called
her reserved, and warned if she did not maintain that reserved tone she would
fall to pieces. Another praises her ability to imagine the different
manifestations of people, and with thoughtful (and once again) reserved
precision, depicts and celebrates them. Another, remarks on his admiration for
the late poet and her acute perspective of the world, where she could cut
through the difficulties of life like a razorblade, and with knowledge and wit,
understand the irony, the beauty, and the ever splendid pleasures of the
reality called life. This same friend has offered the best description of Szymborska’s
poetry—it’s true, she is often called the Mozart of World Poetry, but the title
is strikingly pompous and does not fit with the diminutive and graceful Wisława
Szymborska—he called her poetry, constrained prose, which I found to be a
fitting image of her poetry. Her poetry is deceptively simple, but welcoming
and approachable. Within a few lines, Szymborska can at once celebrate the
wonders and mysteries of life, and in the next, playfully scold human beings
for being erring and unnecessarily vain, only to once again celebrate the
mistakes they make.
End
and Beginning: Meeting Wisława Szymborska,” would not be called a biographical
film or documentary that is biographical in nature either. It’s a wonderful
depiction of the poet, as well as portrait painted by friends. She is not seen
sitting at the kitchen table or laying on the kitchen sofa, staring vacantly
into space waiting for inspiration, she is gracefully animate as she talks,
reminisces, and reads her poetry. Yet as a subject, she is easily elusive and
evades being integrated or questioned. It’s an intimate film and a wonderful
watch. Certainly my night with Wisława Szymborska, was well spent and a true
delight. Fair warning though Gentle Reader, in the event you are able to see
the film, and you watch it, do not expect Szymborska to betray her reticence;
she may have welcomed the camera into the her home, and talked with friends,
recited poetry, and told anecdotes, she never betrays her discretions or
betrays her thoughts.
Thank-you
For Reading Gentle Reader
Take
Care
And
As Always
Stay
Well Read
M.
Mary
