Shades of Paradox: From Poet to Reader

Dear Reader (or future investor in words and magick),

This would usually appear at the beginning (or end) of the book, but Shades of Paradox was originally intended for an audience of three (one of whom is writing this to you) and therefore wasn’t created to have something like this in it.

In August this year, I put together the images and poems from Shades of Paradox (the May-June chapter of The Daily Breath, my poem a day subscription service) as a present for an old friend (who has been staunch champion of all aspects of my creativity since we reconnected in 2013). The intention was to print three: one for Kim, one for Kaolin—who graciously gave me permission to work with his photos (who many of you know, but perhaps are new to me!) and one for me. The thing was, as the book took shape, well a book took shape. A book that took the physicality of the original poems and the pointy beauty of the words and turned them into something else. Something more.

It is hard to articulate.

When I was younger, I would arrive at a certain destination in my thoughts (often late at night when I couldn’t sleep) and I would wonder how I got there. Then with a meticulous kind of reverse dissection, I would move backward through each permutation to arrive at the seed of the train of thought. It was often a strange revelation—long before I knew about phenomenon like seven degrees of separation (though my thoughts travelled in similar kinds of kinks and ripples). While Shades of Paradox was set into the form you’re holding (or considering holding) in August 2020, it actually began in 2015, with my dog eating Calvino and later, trying to find respite from shingles pain with paper weaving.

MY DOG ATE CALVINO

I had taken Kim’s copy of Calvino’s Six Memos for The Next Millennium on a day’s outing to the Gold Coast and ended up stashing it in my satchel with a peanut butter and chocolate biscuit. I’d eaten the biscuit when I got home, left the book on the kitchen table and gone out to a QWC event only to arrive home and discover Smuppy had eaten through most of the cover and had got about eight pages in before he realised it only smelled of chocolate and peanut butter. While it was abundantly obvious I was going to have to replace it, I didn’t have the heart to throw the book out. (I can’t tell you how relieved I was that it wasn’t a special marked-up copy, with brilliant observations pencilled into the margins!).

Fast forward several months later to early August; I was weaving paper for a handmade postcard as a form of pain relief for the shingles which had begun blossoming across my back and down my left side. The postcard looked pretty special but it also felt kind of empty. So, I dug out the chewed copy of Calvino and cut into it; retrieving words and phrases, reassembling them, pasting them down…and my first cut-up was born. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d made in a long time.

 

EMBRACING CUT-UP

From then on, I was somewhat transfixed with building poetry from cut-up books. It was the lowest point of my creativity in terms of writing fiction, and cut-up gave me an unexpected outlet. From single pieces created for birthdays, I started to explore longer runs of poems in series loosely umbrella-ed beneath thematics related loosely to the texts they were taken from. I cut up Kelly Link. I cut up Audrey Niffenegger. And yes, I cut up more and more Calvino. I cut up Jeanette Winterson. I even cut up some of my own writing.

The poems were often odd. They formed up in ways my natural thought processes and creativity would never have found their way to organically. And I loved them for that. Bowie said in 1995 of cut-up:

“…if you put three or four dissociated ideas together and create awkward relationships with them, the unconscious intelligence that comes from those pairings is really quite startling sometimes, quite provocative.”

I marvelled at the way creativity could flourish in such small spaces with so few words. I cut up the pages of zentagles I drawn for sleep therapy and pasted micro poems to them. And to my delight and surprised, when I listed them for sale, they sold! I alternated between 10x10cm origami squares and small standard postcards as my canvasses. I used at least three separate Post-It Note Poetry months to go deeper. I went from pasting words onto existing postcards to making my own. I experimented with sample paint swatches from Bunnings. I played with the form and shape the words could take. For several years, I let it be a creative survival space and when I was ready (though I would actually say I wasn’t ready, but when you’re called, you go!), I surrendered into the flow this style of poetry and creativity opened to be a space to thrive in.

 

THE DAILY BREATH

In 2019 I launched The Daily Breath: a poem-a-day-for-a-year project. Several things were fundamental to The Daily Breath. The first was it would honour my creativity in a way I hadn’t been quite brave enough to ask for: it would be a private, paid subscription service. In this way it generated a small income but also gave me the freedom to come and go from social media as I chose, which was the second important element. Lastly, it challenged me to show up every single day for 354 days to create (the number of days in a lunar month) regardless of how I felt, how inspired I was or whether I thought I was making a difference in the world (or not).

The Daily Breath, for the most part, was a physical project: where possible, I made everything from scratch. I sometimes used commercially produced postcards, mainly for a particular aesthetic and there were also the occasional digital series (chapter), again mostly because it allowed a flexibility that analogue items couldn’t give to that idea.

Across the 18 months of The Daily Breath, I made more than 500 poems, a large proportion of them actual physical pieces which now reside in the many corners of the world.

 

THE PARADOX OF A SECOND LIFE

I had considered creating collections from the poetry I was building, but reproducing cut-up poetry in digital form is tedious as fuck (I know, I’ve tried). I considered just the words without the pictures but that felt empty because there was always an interplay between the words and the pictures. I considered creating a hybrid but the photos had been chosen to make postcards and were not all in uniform orientation needed for a book.

Shades of Paradox was a perfect storm in so many ways for reproduction. It was the most ambitious series I undertook. They were created as longer, thinner pieces, where the photograph was only pasted at the top and was lifted to reveal a longer poem behind. In the space below the photograph, a short poem appeared. It took me more than two hours to make these every day. While the world hunkered down mid-pandemic and then howled with injustice and erupted in violence across late May and into June, I turned up and found solace in the daily practice as my own trauma bubbled to the surface and ate away at my desire to be here.

All my poems mean something to me, but the poems for Shades of Paradox were more. They were my anchor to stay here when my tired heart really wanted to leave. And as others urged for me to give these particular second life, it was almost a way of inviting myself into transforming the difficulties I’d found in making them: of putting the world ‘trauma’ around my experiences since late 2012.

It was early August, late one night and there were so many reasons why the words and photos I started to assemble in Indesign could have been a hot mess, but there is magick in this collection. It created itself. And when I got parts of it horribly wrong, it pivoted itself into a better fit. And then again, when I returned to my (disappointingly imperfect) proof copies a few months after they arrived. I dug into the poems in a new way so they could be the best possible poems, letting go of the need for them to accurate reproductions of the original, and in doing so, releasing them to be what they wanted to be. So, for anyone who owns an original Shades of Paradox poem, you are more likely than not to see your poem in a different rendering here. Or perhaps yours is untouched.

IN CONCLUSION

 

If nothing else, 2020 has shown us how the concreteness of stability, order and structure is an illusion. The world we live in is far more complex and simple than we thought it was. It is freer moving and more stubbornly resistant than we gave it credit for. The words of Shades of Paradox held me in the most patient and comforting of ways when I was falling apart. The words, the poems and the images exist in the light and the dark, and I believe there is a mercurial nature to them, so they are in no way firmly fixed in either, but have the capacity to morph to be what they need to be for you, in any particular minute of any particular day.

For that reason, it is a wee book, perfect to be tucked away in handbags and satchels, to be ready to hand when you might need it most. My hope is you too find a gift in these words as I did; where they can hold a space, and hold you, in the extreme of times and in all the shades between.

Jodi xxx


You can pre-order Shades of Paradox here.


MY THANKS GOES TO:

Kaolin Fire for giving me access to his photos and then bringing his friends to the part to find this book.

Jeanette Winterson for writing the original text of Art and Lies which provided a rich and varied pool of words to work with (and now that I have thoroughly gutted it for my art I can get a second copy and actually read it).

The Daily Breath Subscribers who made it possible for me to build the poems.

Devin Watson who many, many, years ago sent me a wiki article about block-out poetry (and its variants) saying: I think this might interest you.

Christina Hira and Kim Roberts who agitated (successfully it turns out) for these to find a wider audience than the original one they were created for.

Kate Wildrick and my group of magickal women who have helped open new ways of thinking, feeling and dreaming to allow this work to move out into the world in vastly different ways.

Adam and Rus, for their love and support which creates the unique container here at The JAR Writers’ Collective to put works like this into the world and who are quite simply exceptional humans which I have the very good fortune to call friends and collaborators.

And finally Dave, Dylan and Smuppy who are the best home-base a creative soul could ever ask for, especially when they (well, those with opposable thumbs) take the inevitable deluge of word fragments across the house with the good grace of an opportunity to make their own ‘floor poetry’.

 

 

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