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Dubious Angels: Poems After Paul Klee
Poetry. "In DUBIOUS ANGELS," Keith Ratzlaff takes a wild leap heavenwards out of antic collisions--collisions between mayhem and majesty, insouciance and piety, piracy and the absolute poverty of an angel's way. This is a spry book, and sobering., 'Like a road/ disappearing in the trees'--Donald Revell. "DUBIOUS ANGELS is collaborative in the deepest sense, one artist taking the work of another as source and following paths it suggests but didn't explore. In their originality, their force of intention, these wonderful poems praise their subjects by living up to Klee's devotion and reach"--Bob Hicok.
- GenresPoetry
102 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
December 19, 2012
Yesterday, Dec. 18, was Paul Klee's birthday. Seeing this notice in The Writer's Almanac http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org... reminded me that I had Keith Ratzlaff's book of poetry about Paul Klee's angel drawings on my shelf.
I like to spend time with poetry every day, and yesterday I spent it with Ratzlaff and Klee. It was time well spent.
I read in a very personal way, the way words and images mean most to me. Here are some places I connected. First, Klee died of schleroderma. This rare disease, even rarer among men, may mean little to most people. However, the name jumped right off the page for me. My father died of this disease in 1980 at the age of 55. He had visions of angels in his last weeks. So these drawings, paintings, and poems immediately attached to some of my most profound memories.
The interaction between two art forms holds many opportunities for the enrichment of both. Ratzlaff explains his aspiration in a brief preface to the poems: "What I hope I've done is approximated Klee's tragicomic voice and his jazz-like technique with my own, and given the angels voices that do justice to the bodies Paul Klee created for them."
The best painting and the best poem, in my estimation, come together on p. 69 of the book. The painting is called Angel Overflowing, and so is the poem. Look closely at the relationship between color and line here. The artist is deliberately painting outside the lines. In fact, the color comes first, the lines, later.
The last lines of the poem show that all artists try to reach the ineffable, no matter what their medium.
. . .
So instead
of heaven, I've sent
this picture of heaven --
a paradise
so small we will need
to bow our heads hard --
harder
even than here --
just to stay in the picture.
Instead of me,
I've sent a line
gloriously out of hand,
a body
too small for its colors.
The Klee painting was completed at Christmas in 1939. Just after Klee's 60th birthday, shortly before his death.
I can't think of a better way to celebrate Christmas this year than to be reminded, through visual art and poetry, that all our bodies are too small. The colors in and around us bleed over the edge of our too small existence and continue forever.
I like to spend time with poetry every day, and yesterday I spent it with Ratzlaff and Klee. It was time well spent.
I read in a very personal way, the way words and images mean most to me. Here are some places I connected. First, Klee died of schleroderma. This rare disease, even rarer among men, may mean little to most people. However, the name jumped right off the page for me. My father died of this disease in 1980 at the age of 55. He had visions of angels in his last weeks. So these drawings, paintings, and poems immediately attached to some of my most profound memories.
The interaction between two art forms holds many opportunities for the enrichment of both. Ratzlaff explains his aspiration in a brief preface to the poems: "What I hope I've done is approximated Klee's tragicomic voice and his jazz-like technique with my own, and given the angels voices that do justice to the bodies Paul Klee created for them."
The best painting and the best poem, in my estimation, come together on p. 69 of the book. The painting is called Angel Overflowing, and so is the poem. Look closely at the relationship between color and line here. The artist is deliberately painting outside the lines. In fact, the color comes first, the lines, later.
The last lines of the poem show that all artists try to reach the ineffable, no matter what their medium.
. . .
So instead
of heaven, I've sent
this picture of heaven --
a paradise
so small we will need
to bow our heads hard --
harder
even than here --
just to stay in the picture.
Instead of me,
I've sent a line
gloriously out of hand,
a body
too small for its colors.
The Klee painting was completed at Christmas in 1939. Just after Klee's 60th birthday, shortly before his death.
I can't think of a better way to celebrate Christmas this year than to be reminded, through visual art and poetry, that all our bodies are too small. The colors in and around us bleed over the edge of our too small existence and continue forever.
September 6, 2011
Keith Ratzlaff’s book, Dubious Angels: poems after Paul Klee, is a collection of twenty seven poems juxtaposed with the playful paintings and illustrations of Paul Klee’s angels. The images had been done while Klee was dying of schleroderma. “Winged figures had appeared before in Klee’s work, but these late angels are obviously different—cruder in a way, but also funny, irreverent, poignant figures caught somewhere between earth and heaven.” Ratzlaff goes on to explain that his intention is not ekphrasis, but to “approximate Klee’s tragicomic voice and his jazz-like technique…and give the angels voices that do justice to the bodies Paul Klee created for them.”
Much like Klee’s art, which varies from heavy oil paintings to sparse pencil line-drawings, Ratzlaff’s poems range from quick, minimalist tercets to lengthy, descriptive, and prose-like sprawls. Each poem has its own life and character, yet they have a connecting thread that unravels to be dark, witty, playful, and hold a distinctly child-like human quality.
Man is half prisoner, half borne on wings.
—Paul Klee, The Thinking Eye
Angel in Kindergarten
We went on a field trip
to the garden of saws,
that place of blades and dirt,
pink shoots of kerf and sharpness
where I thought if I raised my hand
even the air there would slice it.
How would I ever learn to run
like God with knives in his pockets,
pins in his mouth?
I’m learning to keep to myself,
keep my hands at home—
those small things yellow and blue
you wouldn’t noticed with all
the other things I have on my mind.
I keep them hidden like mirrors
in my pockets, like numbers:
one then another. One thumbnail
is the only sharp thing
I’m trusted with, so
I hold it in my mouth.
In the garden of birds
I asked for wings—two of them—
so I could begin to count my
way into the air—but instead
God gave me buttocks.
Which is a start.
This is the only joke I know.
Much like Klee’s art, which varies from heavy oil paintings to sparse pencil line-drawings, Ratzlaff’s poems range from quick, minimalist tercets to lengthy, descriptive, and prose-like sprawls. Each poem has its own life and character, yet they have a connecting thread that unravels to be dark, witty, playful, and hold a distinctly child-like human quality.
Man is half prisoner, half borne on wings.
—Paul Klee, The Thinking Eye
Angel in Kindergarten
We went on a field trip
to the garden of saws,
that place of blades and dirt,
pink shoots of kerf and sharpness
where I thought if I raised my hand
even the air there would slice it.
How would I ever learn to run
like God with knives in his pockets,
pins in his mouth?
I’m learning to keep to myself,
keep my hands at home—
those small things yellow and blue
you wouldn’t noticed with all
the other things I have on my mind.
I keep them hidden like mirrors
in my pockets, like numbers:
one then another. One thumbnail
is the only sharp thing
I’m trusted with, so
I hold it in my mouth.
In the garden of birds
I asked for wings—two of them—
so I could begin to count my
way into the air—but instead
God gave me buttocks.
Which is a start.
This is the only joke I know.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews