http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/why-i-am-not-a-painter/
Frank O'Hara (1926 - 1966) (pictured), a prominent figure in the "New York School" of poets, was known as "a poet among painters." A detailed biography may be found here:
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/frank-ohara#poet
Layers: An Analysis of "Why I Am Not a Painter" by Frank O'Hara
The reason that
Frank O’Hara is a poet and not a painter may be seen by performing a close
reading of his poem, “Why I Am Not a Painter.” The first stanza of the poem states that while the speaker,
Mr. O’Hara, “would rather be a painter,” he is instead a poet. To illustrate his point, in the
remainder of the poem, Mr. O’Hara offers an example of the difference between painters
and poets in their approaches to subjects of fascination.
The second
stanza introduces the poet’s friend, the painter Mike Goldberg, and some
observations regarding the painter’s work in progress. During his initial visit, the poet
comments that “SARDINES” feature prominently in the painting and wonders why. The painter’s enigmatic answer is, “it
needed something there.” The poet
returns from time to time to observe his friend’s progress and is surprised to
see that the finished product no longer features “SARDINES” but only the
letters of “SARDINES.” Baffled, the poet asks, “Where’s SARDINES?” The painter’s answer is again enigmatic: “It was too much,” he says.
In the third and
final stanza, the poet comments on how he treats a subject of fascination,
using the color orange as an example.
The poet begins by writing one line on the subject. Over a period of days, he adds thoughts
to this line until he has written one page and then another. As the poem progresses, the color
orange evolves into a metaphor for how terrible life is. The final product is a series of twelve
poems that he entitles “ORANGES.”
The final sentence
of the poem, comprised of half of the penultimate line and the entire last
line, drives the poet’s point home:
“And one day in a gallery / I see Mike’s painting, called
SARDINES.” Here the startling
contrast between painter and poet is revealed. In the painting, the layers are all there, but only the
final layer may be observed. Only
the painter knows what lies beneath the surface. The vital steps that resulted in the final product, the
artist’s process, while technically still there, cannot be studied without the
use of special x-ray equipment.
In contrast (“But
me?” as the third stanza begins), in “ORANGES,” the poet’s thought processes
are there for every reader to see.
Each layer of poetry is not palimpsest or overwritten layer upon
layer. Each “layer” of text
proceeds down the pages. The poem
may be studied as a complete work, as a series of twelve poems, poem-by-poem,
line-by-line, foot-by-foot, word-by-word, even syllable-by-syllable. This way of recording the creative
impulse is essential to the poet.
And so, though he may “rather be a painter,” he is not.
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