dublinka

Pierre Bourdieu, in his essay Culture is in danger has an interesting paragraph:

So we are also seeing the emergence, in all the cultural universes, of imitation cultural produtions (one could find instances of them in the realm of the novel as well as in cinema, and even in poetry with what Jacques Roubaud calls "muesli poetry"). These may go so far as to mimic the experimentation of the avant-garde while exploiting the most traditional mechanisms of commercial productions. And, given their ambiguity, they may, thanks to an effect of allodoxia, deceive critics and consumers with modernist pretensions.

The question then, if we accept such a belief, is where do we find examples of allodoxia (roughly: a false opinion arises through mistakenly exchanging one thing for another, and in Bourdieu's sense, found in the middle class) in contemporary poetry? The most obvious example is the now infamous 1998 Nike Slam poets commercial. Ostensibly a display of hip and sexy slam, the actual truth behind the whole process, had little to do with art. Witness the extract of the following letter sent from Nike to Martín Espada reprinted in Lipmagazine:

Ultimately, of course, you are free to write anything you want. We will not censor your thoughts or opinions or feelings. You don't have to write about shoes or even mention Nike. This is not meant to be a commercial: It is meant to be a showcase for these athletes and for your work. (For legal reasons, you should not include references to the Olympics, Games or medals and keep in mind TV network standards and practices regarding content and language).

It must be possible for your poem to be read aloud in less than 30 seconds. (Otherwise, we may have to edit your piece for time.) Unfortunately, the mechanics of commerce outweigh the demands of art in this instance.

Espada replies eloquently:

I could reject your offer based on the fact that your deadline is ludicrous (i.e., ten days from the above date). A poem is not a pop tart.

But goes on to make the more appropriate and serious criticism:

Ultimately, however, I am rejecting your offer as a protest against the brutal labor practices of Nike. I will not associate myself with a company that engages in the well-documented exploitation of workers in sweatshops. Please spare me the usual corporate response: there's no problem, and besides, we're working on it. I suggest, instead, that you take the $2500 you now dangle before me and distribute that money equally among the laborers in an Asian sweatshop doing business with Nike. The funds would be much more useful to them than to me. Thank you.

Of course not everyone reacted like Espada. That slam can so easily be appropriated into commerce is no surprise. Ethics are easily bypassed by the dollar. And in the process, the public are easily lured into the belief that they are perceiving some kind of authenticity. Bourdieu's criticism however points beyond this phenomenon. If market forces are capable of creating an illusion of art, an art which will impose self censorship and bend to commercial whim, then the idea of art, itself a social construct (but in its best form a worthy one), could slowly be diminished and eventually disappear over time. In the case of poetry, the replacement will be forms of what Roubaud (a member of OULIPOU), calls Muesli poetry. There is some reason to take this suggestion seriously. Outside of poetry, the idea of 'selling out' is no longer given serious attention. The phrase is used with irony, and is seen as a phase of criticism, through which an artist must go, before transcending to clouds of multimedia acclaim and its attendant silver linings. Artists see themselves as a brand, as a product, selling their incware, in a competitive global economy. They do not see themselves either as victims, or willing accomplices, in a neo-colonial enterprise, which continues to ignore the actual state of the world. Poetry, being immune to the 'free' market for so long has largely escaped such decimation. It remains truer to its roots than many art forms. But for how long?