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"Life is slow"
shot in Parc Angrignon, Montréal, on May, 22nd, 2011
"Life is slow and man barely knows how to play it." A sentence read around 2004 in Mad Love, the essay book by André Breton. Another illustration of the power of chance, subjective chance from a surrealist point of view, love connected to inconscious preferences - as far as I can remember...
I wrote down the sentence at the time of my reading, intrigued by its sound and its mysterious sense, that I was not sure to understand or grasp totally. Life like music, a slow tune that whose partition remains mostly unclear, impossible to decipher, and even more difficult to play properly; things remain clear enough until this point; but life as played too fast, without enough respect for its pace, internal rhythm?
Not the most intuitive analysis in days when world and life seem fast & in constant movement.
But constant movement like noise, like measurement noise, needle vibrating only because the instrument is sensitive, only because so many little things can happen at any time; small events independent, most of the time, independent from the general trend, the general flow. Most of what happen in everyday life is like noise in the long and slow scheme of life, most events cancel out in average, easily filtered by memory for instance. A few twists for sure, once in a while, a few abrupt changes, strong turns, surely unexpected sometimes, accidents or surprising encounters; but all in all, how many of such sparks take place over ten years?
A small bag of clear and important scenes, a slow flowing stream of life - are we closer to a schematic idea?
Hard to say if all this really makes sense, apart from a few basic ideas. But enough full for thoughts, enough of a starting point for a poem - sure. A poem to catch the division, slow moving trends, rare sparks, why not, there should be some pace to play with and some images to introduce. Quite enough to enjoy some poetic fun...
I played with the idea, played with the poem, and shared it at Capital Slam in March, as part of the slam competition in Ottawa. Short lines to deliver patiently, short scenes to introduce some sun & memories - the text might need some more maturation, some adjustments, but it is rather enjoyable to deliver, at least as performer.
And outdoor performance always some nice tint to the words, makes it a nice moment, sound of words I enjoyed assembling that flies in open air, resonating differently from indoor sounds. Good Friday in Angrignon Park in Montréal, blue sky and sunshine, slow start for spring with green environment but wet grass & lawns, watery sounds of sponge under shoes while walking along the pond. The slow sound of branches in the wind, a good spot for a poem mixing slowness and sunshine beams...
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