The Kiss of the Muse
This new poem, inspired by the Muse and Lord Byron’s “The first kiss of love”, may also serve as today’s statement of my artistic motivation and metaphoric illustration of my understanding of the formal and social possibilities of art. These both innocent and indignant thoughts spring from the same psyche which I bring to bear in my new impressionistic variations.
Away with your art talk, so bleak and pedantic,
Veiled in relevant theories so critics enthuse;
Give me storm clouds o’er nature both wild and romantic,
Or the rapture revealed in the kiss of the Muse.
You art market heroes, eyes with dollars a-glow
Who paint smutty tabus ‘cause that’s a good sales ruse,
What beautiful colours and feeling you’d show,
Had you glimpsed the red lips wherewith kisses the Muse.
If your gallerist should his assistance refuse,
So the buyers get confused, as if your art’s no use;
Then invoke them no more! Do like me as you choose!
And instead steal an arousing kiss off a Muse.
I hate you, ye cold compositions of art!
Though critics may spite me, and curators curse.
My fiery creation comes straight from the heart,
Which throbs with delight from the kiss of the Muse.
Pop art may mock, intercultural themes
Can awarenes improve and sometimes well amuse,
And with Miami* prices mediocrity gleams!
But the world’s gold won’t purchase one kiss off the Muse.
Oh cease to affirm that since Duchamp’s last breath,
All representation must innocence lose.
I’ll ne’er dolefully wallow in art’s suppos’d death,
But evade such a grave via the kiss of the Muse.
When the art press forgets you now your trend is past,
For all styles drift away - Fashion prides in swift shoes -
Your soul and works fade, and your grand name won’t last,
Unless you were blessed by the kiss of the Muse.
1. October 2009 © Christopher Haley Simpson
*I mean Art Basel Miami Beach,
where all that glitters certainly is not gold, yet helped by chatter may perhaps still get sold.