SPEECH IS THE SEA, POETRY IS FISHING
WRITING WORKSHOP WITH MARÍA SALGADO
TUESDAYS 16 FEB — 8 MAR. 17:00 — 20:00
Aimed at everyone interested in writing, the word, orality or
Orality is even stranger than what we commonly think of as speaking. It’s a whole sea of verbal forms ungoverned or not so ungoverned by the written letter. There are even textual devices that, while written in letters, are somehow regulated by orality, as is the case of (a large part of) internet. Anyhow, there is a vast sea of speech, dialects, sociolects, chronolects and cryptolects out there, a sea of tongues and languages where you can find all sorts of verbal pieces: nice, beautiful, ugly, timely, strange, realist, hyperrealist, unrealist. A sea where you can fish for pleasure or for a commitment with fishing, where you can enjoy an active listening of what is to be heard and whatever’s heard sounds in its own way, where you can to swim and get your pen into shape, in other words, the distinct style with which each body writes in their own way about the world that passes before them. There is no single form of speech that does not contain a sparkle or a strangeness. Inclusion, manipulation and duplication of speech is a process that allows writing to, on one hand, escape from the melody of measured verse or from the narrowness of prose, and, on the other, afford social and historical context to the words that emerge. Speech depicts worlds. Writing that listens to speech provides a gateway into texts for all kinds of people and their worlds. Orality is the most incredible bank of languaging, writing and audiotextuality both past and future to be explored. This workshop proposes going out and recording language, going out and looking at language passing by, unrecording, listening, transcribing and deciding how to write the transcription. We are going to ink in contexts, duplicate hesitations, copy twists, draw threads that run out, soundproof, erase, cut and paste. And what remains after all this, after the process of doing it and thinking it, we will call “poetry” though we don’t have to, unless we were to say, like Jacques Roubaud, that a verse has borders but a poem doesn’t. We are going to make poems without borders and verses without poems and even poems with verses; and then each one can call this work whatever they like. This workshop is a workshop for all kinds of people who want to look for a verbal sound different to the poem one normally hears, with which to displace their understanding of unreal reality, in which to memorise present time differently, distinct or strange or timely or.