--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- april-may 2011
Ancient Erotic initiates a dialogue between two works with corresponding
aesthetic principles. Matthew Gregory's prose-poem, 'The Lobster', is a narrative
excerpt from the life of the French poet Gerard de Nerval, remembered for his
fascination with and empathy for the lobster; keeping one specimen as a kind
of otherworldy, alternative 'pet' to the toy-poodles and chows of 19th century
Paris. The poem is an abstract response to Simon Davenport's film, 'Ancient
Erotic', which enters into conversation with the poem on several frequencies,
texturally, atmospherically, and through a kind of congenital sympathy with the
absurd or the darkly comic.
The work of Simon Davenport, extending beyond these initial parameters, is
essentially explorative, a shifting surface that doesn't seek to encapsulate, or
underline here as a literal illustration, but to dis-cohere, to disjoin elements, and
to rearrange them again in an order all of themselves. In this example, the
elements are analogous with those of the poem - there is a sense of primitive
desolation, incoherence, an unsettling sensuality in the organic world, beyond
language and human order. The sparse videos move through phases of
microactivity, blurring scale and objects, engendering a sense of drama from
their minimal components.
The recitation of the poetry by the poet adds a performative layer to the content,
allowing for a physical moment, a standstill to redirect attention on sounds and
words. The depth of engagement, as with the extent of conversation between
poem and image, is left open.
The Lobster
The poet fatigues over scallops on blvd. Saint Germain. His friend, Theophile Gautier, talks
cheerfully about himself. The beard moves up and down. Certain books and men sprout
in that beard but the poet is tired of both. Theophile keeps on. His speaking mind speaks itself
to a sound where there is nobody else. The poet dabs his napkin at a spot on his plate he has
just noticed. One lobster fizzes in the tank after the night’s trade has passed. The poet watches
it raise a strapped claw with effort. Morsels confuse the water and the lobster flicks
a long wand. The poet lets his ear travel across the bistro to listen to the tank. This sensation
of departure is pleasant and water is bubbling sweetly there. His friend is regaling loudly
to himself. The poet has let his mind enter cold water. From his table he holds the thoughts
of the lobster. This poor element is green. Mussels grip their lives tightly. The mind centres
on the white pin of the present. But the poet returns to himself. That’s a poet speaking
for the other. At the table Theophile is speaking with his beard and his hand. The scallops
are cold and Theophile says something ribald in Latin. The waitress picks across the night’s
remainders. The lobster is crying. But the poet returns to himself. That’s a poet speaking
crustacean. That’s a poet speaking into a shell. And listening, for the ocean, speaking French.
Matthew Gregory. flip print 2011