A.R.
Ammons’s Austrian Aesthetic
by
Myles Kantor
Unlike
so many poets who genuflect to the State, A.R. Ammons is refreshingly
iconoclastic when it comes to government and the arts. When the
poet and author David Lehman asked in an interview, "How do
you feel about government support of the arts," he replied:
"I
detest it. I detest it on many grounds, but three first. And the
first is that the government gouges money from people who may need
it for other purposes. Second, the money forced from needy average
citizens is then filtered through the sieve of a bureaucracy which
absorbs much of the money into itself and distributes the rest incompetently
since how could you expect the level of knowledge and judgment
among such a cluster to be much in advance of the times? At the
same time the government attaches strings to the money, not theirs
in the first place, to those who gave it in the first place. And
third, I detest the averaging down of expectation and dedication
that occurs when thousands of poets are given money in what is really
waste and welfare, not art at all. Artists should be left alone
to paint or not to paint, write or not to write. As it is, the world
is full of trash. The genuine is lost, and the whole field wallops
with political and social distortions."
In
addition to delivering a nuanced tirade against cultural mediocrity
and centralized aggrandizement, Ammons displays a liberal sensibility
in the Austrian grain (Mises, not Freud). His skepticism toward
bureaucratic cognition evokes Friedrich Hayek’s "pretense of
knowledge": the idea that a certain class is better qualified
to administer the fruit of individuals’ toil better than those individuals.
It’s an essentially imperious behavior, and the other FAA (Federal
Artistic Apparatus) is pretentious knowledge in full effect. Maybe,
just maybe, government shouldn’t seize individuals’ productivity
for artistic engineering. Maybe individuals should be able to choose
between consuming Marlowe or McNuggets. (True, the elegant Elizabethan
poet and dramatist isn’t in vogue. Make that Mapplethorpe or McNuggets.)
Ammons’s
Austrian features also manifest in his verse. He has said that "Poetry
is action," and Sphere: The Form of a Motion instantiates this
praxeological conception. (The poem is comprised of one hundred
and fifty-five stanzas of quadruple tercets.) Consider this key
passage:
…the
way to write poems is just to start: it’s like learning to walk
or swim or ride the bicycle, you just go after it…
These
lines confer primacy upon individual volition in accord with classical
liberal values. No doubt highbrow vampires would recoil from the
comparison of poetry to swimming or bicycling. (Hark, benighted
masses, verse cannot be equated with plebian pastimes!)
Ammons
also shuns the chiliastic kitsch that characterizes much contemporary
"art." (It corresponds to an evangelical secularism: Save
Yourself, Read This Month’s Anointed Artist!) He observes in "Hippie
Hop":
I
have no program for saving this world or scuttling the next: I know
no political, sexual, racial cures: I make analogies, my bucketful
of flowers: I give flowers to people of all policies, sexes, and
races including the vicious, the uncertain, and the white.
Such
earthy irreverence is part and parcel of Ammons’s aesthetic. Enjoy
it at your leisure.
November
22, 2000
Myles
Kantor lives in Boynton Beach, Florida.
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