As part of a unique collaboration between the National Gallery and the Royal Opera House, 14 leading poets were invited to respond to three great masterpieces by the Renaissance painter, Titian.
Patience Agbabi (born 1965) is a British poet, author and performer. In 2017 she was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature.
Patience Agbabi was born in London to Nigerian parents, and from a young age was privately fostered by a white English family, who when she was 12 years old moved from Sussex to North Wales, where Agbabi was raised in Colwyn Bay. She studied English language and literature at Pembroke College, Oxford.
She earned an MA in Creative Writing, the Arts and Education from the University of Sussex in 2002, and in September that year was appointed Associate Creative Writing Lecturer at the University of Wales, Cardiff.
Agbabi was Canterbury Festival's Laureate in 2010. In 2018 she was Writer In Residence at the Brontë Parsonage Museum.
Famous (in the UK) poets writing about Titian paintings in the National Gallery and Scottish National Gallery. One of the pleasures of the book is the repros of the paintings -- and especially the close ups. It's always a bit of a shock to see all the stuff I've never noticed.
As to the poems, well, with a line up like this, it would be a surprise if there were any duds. (Though, in truth, I couldn't make head nor tail of the Shapcott.) For my own taste it was the usual suspects: Cope's Shakespearean sonnet, C.A Duffy's poem forcing the reader to think (though the moving POV struck me as cheating a bit), Harrison's tricksy take on the voyeurism of the painting "Diana and Actaeon". Yet these poems all seemed like commissions: poets doing their schtick as required.
The poem that was head, shoulders, belly and feet above all the others was Don Patterson's 'A Call'. -- Now there's a poem that feels like it demanded to be written. Like many of Patterson's poems, it's gripping but opaque. But with 'A Call', after re-reading, the meaning springs into place like one of those magic eye paintings. And there it is: the wound, the fracture, the intertwining, the scar at the centre of male sexuality.
The poem even includes the metamorphosis (of Actaeon, of the poet). Looking for a translation to the poem's latin motto, I came across the following salient comment on the Raminagrobis blog: "Ovid’s characters are constantly on the verge of becoming unlike themselves, of arriving at that point of self-recognition Narcissus reaches when he exclaims ‘iste ego sum’ [that man am I]."