Romanticism Is Overrated

What perhaps no-one in a class will tell you–not a teacher, perhaps not another student (unless such a student is very clever indeed)–is that the two are beautifully compatible. Such a thing these days, is occasionally being referred to as “Romantic Realism.” This is, if you turn the clock back a hundred or a hundred and fifty years ago, the actual meaning of the term “romanticism.” However since this word has been co-opted, the term “Romantic Realism” is beginning to replace it. It can also be problematic simply Googling the term “Romantic Realism,” because I am perhaps the only artist, or one of the few, who would so tag any of my work–at least openly. And because it being a true outcast–a true alternative–such work is cautiously or timidly presented as such. There is even quite a lot of venom against it. This venom is quite institutionalised, which is why you are presented with Realism and Romanticism as a dichotomy at school where in fact no such dichotomy exists. This is what one may term a “false dichotomy;” for, where two instances are compatible to so great a degree, no dichotomy exists, except one that is quite deliberately false.

No subjects are taboo to romanticism (romantic realism) but the tenor of such writing is thus, even regarding evil subjects: “Look at this! Isn’t it amazing!! Isn’t it grand how very strange and evil it is!!!) And when writing about that which is good, we show the best it can be–even in a novel wherein such characters fail to closely approach such an ideal. We show, perhaps, or give the impression: “Look at this!! This is how good it can be!!! This is the ideal to pursue.!!!!” Such writing, or art, makes us see, not fantasy, as might be intimated in a modern classroom, but possibility.

Everything I write is along that vein, for example. All that I currently post on-line, however, are sonnets, which might not be so “accessible,” and are not to just anyone’s taste. However if you should take a few moments and google, for example the sculpture of Danielle Anjou. And take a few more moments to find out a bit more about her life–and three fascinating career changes–I think it will be immediately obvious what I mean (and none of the above long-windedness will have been necessary)

In retrospect, I have a link handy here: http://sonnetblog.wordpress.com/tag/fh84y398h/ if you click on the image you find there, it will take you to her site.

And, I should like to apologise, if none of this makes any sense to you, Since I am reblogging this, it is only partly directed toward your entry, even as it is partly directed at those who might be confounded by such a false dichotomy as above I have described, and who might have some kind of sense–as though perhaps, a wordless impression–that “something,” in the way in which this subject is generally viewed or presented “is amiss.” It is to such people who I should like to provide some clarity.

Boredom Boy's avatarThe Adventures of Boredom Boy

Yeah, I said it. Someone in my class said that people tend to like Romantic writers better because we want an escape. I don’t agree. I think Realism writers can provide just as strong an escape. Romanticism is a part of every day life. People romanticize everything: their car, a presidential candidate, their newest love interest, etc. It is not that Realism is realistic, it just tries to be. And it is not that Romanticism is romantic, it just tries to be.
I think I am arguing the definitions of these works and genres. I see more Romanticism than Realism in my reality, my daily life. So, for me, Realism offers more of an escape.

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Sonnet XI: I Promise

For Thou art she from whom my Manna flows
And Thou art she for whom I do exist
For Thee I have become a hedonist
For Thee Mine own Desire always grows

For Thou art She from whom my Love arose
And Thou art She with whom I do entwist
For Thee I live with Joy from tryst to tryst
For Thee I Write all Poetry and Prose

For Thee I undertake the mundane world
For Thee I go about my daily deeds
For Thee I show my inner self unfurled
For Thee I set aside all other needs

For Thee I Undertake the Pain to Learn
And Thee To Whom I Someday Will Return

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Intro 11: Signature

When I think back through
Those many decades behind us,
I feel lucky and quite foolish
For as each passed by,
It made much more clear
That there was no circumstance
So burdensome that it should keep us
From the place, from the one,
Where we, both of us,
Belong.

Continue reading

Sonnet X: Sister

But cleft in twain my heart still yearns for thee;
I yearn to see the magic of thy smile;
I long to hear and see the dreams which we
Have always manifested; all the while

Denying to our other worlds the fact
That this discreet perfection had a name.
It lived, in every thought and deed and act
Which in our lives the other would proclaim.

It cannot be enough to kiss and hold;
For it is thee with whom I am in love.
I love not even life as much as thee.

I only dream of when I may behold
My sweet companion–whom I hold above
All earthly deeds–this sister who loves me.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

Intro 10: Bound

Bound
With thee
Forever,
Closer wert thou,
Yet as a sister,
So hast thou ever been:
All our lives, protected us
With this sweet forever of thine.

Sonnet IX: Extremes

Can aught unite this nature’s pain and grace?
Can any magic unify these twain?
I wish to see the ending of this pain
Which lives eternal on thine ivory face.

Shall magic oversee to interlace
These two divergent themes which so profane
This wonderful ideal of our demesne
To depths of most unbearable disgrace.

My sister, will it ever be that I
Will have thee someday for my very own?
Or is this fantasy to justify
This perfect world which we have overthrown.

What kind of fools were we who ran away
From that which still we hope to have someday?

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: