ROBIN TOMENS

Artist Statement: I only call it visual poetry as a handy reference since it’s a commonly-used term. For a while I also called it concrete poetry but ultimately settled for visual poetry. If pushed to define the difference, I’d say concrete tends towards a more formal structure, typified by the stuff from the ‘50s. Recent books with concrete poetry in the titles could include anything, it seems—photography, collage, abstract, etc., with text barely relevant if included at all. I’m a bit of a purist in the sense of thinking anything that includes “poetry” as a label should feature letters, words, or text as a key component. The problem with using the word “poetry” is that to those unfamiliar with the field, it deceives. For all of poetry’s possible forms, the visual or concrete are not commonly acceptable as poetry at all by most people. Ironically, in the “gallery without walls” (the internet) the Concrete Formalist Poetry page on Facebook is where most people see my work. Labels, ultimately, mean little. I have called my work “text art” before, but I decided that was a little pretentious and tends to be used with reference to Fine artists who incorporate text in their work. I must say, however, that I do consider what I do to be art because there’s usually very little writing involved. My work usually involves both meanings of the word “read” because I include words to be read and their components, which can be read in multiple ways, merely as shapes or patterns, but also as a disruption of the orderly world of letters. My visual poetry demands to be both read and “unread.” If anything, it’s about unlearning to read in the conventional sense.

I mean unread in the sense that Mark E Smith wanted his musicians to unlearn what they knew, to wipe the slate clean and build again, something new, hopefully. I don’t think of my poetry in an any intellectual sense whatsoever; it’s all instinctive, not worked out with semantics in mind, but anything can be viewed in multiple ways. All art is a mirror, isn’t it? What we see in it is what we bring to it as individuals.

Once I got over the Fine Artist’s craving to be exhibited in a conventional gallery, books became the logical medium for my art; they’re affordable, and with online printing, relatively easy to produce. Dieter Roth, Eduardo Paolozzi, and Robert Rauschenberg have all inspired me, along with the Dadaists and Pop Art movements. Music—Jazz in particular—has inspired me for decades, the latter because it involves improvisation, and I improvise all the time when typing. So in that sense I’d also have to name players like Charlie Parker and Miles Davis, along with the maverick genius, Sun Ra. He once said, “Why don’t you do something right and make a mistake?,” which, in essence, is a concept I hold dear. No one can force mistakes, but imperfections arising from “mistakes” are appealing to me. No visual poet has shaped my style, but the collective evidence of works made since the ‘60s inspires me and suggests a few ideas. If I had to name one visual poet though it would be Bob Cobbing. I can’t claim to be truly “original,” but as I work there are no ghosts of poets past sitting on my shoulder. In that respect, I’m mercifully free of the burden of influence.