Nidale Zouhir

Ryan Gallagher

AP Literature

17 February 2011

The Plasticity of Memory: A Jessica Smith Analysis

“Plastic arts...[demand] that the subject change her use of the her

environment, thus introducing a dimension of temporal succession

along with that of spatial simultaneity.”

-- Jessica Smith, Organic Furniture Cellar

As far as poets go, Jessica Smith tends not to be as set on creating specific meanings for

her poetry as other more popular poets in the avant garde literature scene. Smith's writing is more

experiential than strictly meaningful, as it takes each reader on a unique path, stressing the

importance of the individual. However, despite its unique meanings for each reader, Smith's

poetry does contain certain unifying themes, specifically regarding isolation and memory. Smith

calls her work “plastic poetry” for its ability to change depending upon the reader; with this

plastic poetry, Smith can “change the reading space in such a way that the one who reads is

forced to make amends for new structures in his or her virtual path” (Smith, Organic 12). As

Don Ihde, a professor at Stony Brook University, told New York Times reporter Fred Bernstein,

the plastic arts “[make] people think through what they wouldn’t normally think through” (“A

House” par. 3). Ihde was referring specifically to Smith’s greatest influence, the Japanese

architect Arakawa, but his words hold true for Smith herself.

Smith's “The Wandering Rocks” is one of the structurally most interesting of her book of

poetry, Organic Furniture Cellar. The poem resembles a word search, and words can be read

both vertically and horizontally, and sometimes from both left to right and right to left. Specific

readings of the poem, therefore, are unique to specific readers of the poem, a concept directly

influenced by Arakawa, whose work Smith says she is “in love with” (“Hiroshima” par. 1). Like

Arakawa, whose architecture “makes people use their bodies in unexpected ways to maintain

equilibrium, and that...will stimulate their immune systems” (Bernstein, “A House” par. 3),

Smith employs this varied structure in order to allow the reader to create her own journey

throughout the poem, thus “changing the reading space in such a way that the one who reads is

forced to make amends for the

new structures in his or her

virtual path” (Smith, Organic

12).

This varied structure

and unique experience for each

individual reader contains a

sense of loneliness; each reader

having a different experience

when reading isolates each

reader, thus amplifying the

loneliness already implied by

the lone letters and incomplete phrases scattered over the page. This isolation is only amplified

by the concept of being “AMID A CROWD of stars” (Smith), as, in the same way that being

amid a crowd of people without actually being a part of that crowd, the subject of the poem is

isolated in a crowd of burning particles of gas. This is further supplemented by the implications

of the word “star” – a star tends to outshine whatever surrounds it, so in a reversed situation like

this one, the stars outshine the subject to create a sense of isolation for the subject as well as for

the speaker. This sense of isolation is one that is echoed on one of Smith's largest influences,

Homer's epic poem The Odyssey, which details the exile of Odysseus post-Trojan War, when he

is “being held captive on Kalypso’s island” (“The Odyssey Summary” par. 2). Like Odysseus,

the subject of this poem seems to be in some form of exile, randomly hearing or feeling bits of

conversation the speaker has either with him or with some arbitrary other person. This is

amplified by seemingly random, entirely isolated bits of words and phrases scattered throughout

the poem.

In this particular poem, the words and phrases that can be read horizontally are simple

observations – “the one veiled male face” and “the vulnerable sleeping chest,” for example –

while the words and phrases that can be read vertically are more conversational, with the speaker

at one point instructing some unnamed subject to “bring the camera” (Smith). The words read

vertically create a poem within a poem, one that at first glance seems completely separate from

the words read horizontally. However, this is not entirely true. The tone created by the horizontal

observations is wistful with a dash of fairy tale mysticism, bringing to mind the vulnerable

princesses of Disney movies and the fragile main characters of Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Virgin

Suicides. This ethereally suggests a lack of reality to the people referred to in the poem, though

the vertical lines again draw the reader back to reality with concrete bits of information and

dialogue.

In addition to isolation, Smith discusses memory in “The Wandering Rocks.” Smith is a

blogger, as evidenced by her Tumblr, Wordpress, Blogspot, and Twitter accounts -- in other

words, she preserves her memories, if only in some intangible digital form, either for future

reference or for catharsis. It is therefore unsurprising that throughout “The Wandering Rocks,”

Smith references memory often. In fact, her speaker instructs someone to “bring the camera” at

one point, while discussing “prememory” at another. This use of a camera here indicates a need

to preserve moments that cannot be remembered otherwise. This creates a sense of immortality,

one that is echoed by Smith's use of the phrase “amour immortal.” Interestingly, Smith detailed

her views on immortality as related to architecture “Hiroshima Mon Amour.” The use of the

word “amour” (which translates, obviously, to love) in both cases seems to indicate a sense of

immortality associated with love, especially in the latter, as it is a eulogy for the architect

Arakawa, who believed it to be “immoral...that people have to die” (Bernstein, “Arakawa” par.

20). Though Smith does not necessarily subscribe to this specific concept, as “architecture

creates neither morality nor immortality, because at the end of the day, bodies and architecture

are extricable and one lasts longer than the other” (“Hiroshima” par. 4), she does feel that

memory and immortality are intrinsically related, as one renders the other obsolete because

“there is no need for memory in immortal life” (“Hiroshima” par. 5). Her use of memory in this

poem then becomes fascinating, as she clearly does not mean it as a way to create immortality in

the way that Arakawa and his wife used their form of art to create immortality prior to his death.

In fact, she seems to use it to counter the immortality that she mentions. Though the memories in

the poem do not seem to have a specific meaning, their inclusion indicates the significance of

memory and of the past, while simultaneously downgrading the importance of immortality.

Smith continues the idea that memory is detrimental to immortality in her poem,

“Locations along the Rust Belt.” This structure of this poem is vastly different from that of “The

Wandering Rocks,” as it begins almost conventionally, with a concept that is almost entirely

unique amongst Smith's poetry: the ability to number lines. At first, the poem seems melodic in

that it makes sense in a single, linear path. However, soon enough, the poem dissolves into what

reads like several poems at once, once again allowing the reader to choose her own path

throughout the poem and therefore create her own meaning from the words that she reads.

In fact, the structure of this poem mimics the jazz music that Smith praises. Like John

Coltrane's music, this poem begins in an almost expected manner, but soon comes to resemble

the “controversial experiments”

that Coltrane (and Smith)

favors (“PBS – JAZZ” par. 4).

This rejection of expectations is

evident in all of Smith’s poetry,

which, because of its ability to

be read in various directions

and interpreted in infinite ways,

defies the expectations of

typical poetry. This particular

poem almost tricks the

audience into believing that it

will work as typical poetry, but quickly goes on to defy these expectations when it quickly

switches into the more atypically structured plastic poetry that Smith so prefers. Like Coltrane’s

music, this poem starts out almost melodically, with the reader able to understand and interpret a

single line of poetry down a single path until the music of the poetry suddenly stops and becomes

much more typical of both Coltrane and Smith – unique and multi-rhythmic, allowing the reader

to choose a specific path or indulge in all of them.

Interestingly, Smith switches to her clearly favored plastic poetry immediately after

suggesting that the reader might “want to remember” something, then going on to scatter the

remaining text and allow the reader to choose what to remember: “sloss furnace,” “a loved one,”

or “glasses with limes at the / bottom.” The scattering of the text here does exactly what Smith

describes in the foreword of Organic Furniture Cellar – it “entangles the reader in a web of

undetermined syntactical relations,” thus allowing the reader to “choose from many possible

syntactical paths.” This “multi-linearity” thus “allows for a constant opening of new paths in the

poem’s field” (13), here meaning that it directly allows the reader to choose precisely what

memory represents for her.

Here, the glass with limes at the bottom suggests an alcoholic beverage – in other words,

choosing not to remember anything at all. Meanwhile, the loved one gives a sense of positivity to

the idea of remembering. Unfortunately, this positivity does not stick – Birmingham’s Sloss

Furnace is considered to be “one of the scariest places on earth” (“The Sloss Furnace” sec. 1).

Because of its “extremely dangerous” living and working conditions, “several hundred” of the

men who lived and worked there died” (“The Sloss Furnace” sec. 3), causing some to believe

that “several spirits lurk in the Sloss Furnace” (“The Sloss Furnace” sec. 1). This adds chilling

connotations to memory in general, as ghosts tend to hover in the space between memory and

immortality. The Sloss Furnace is especially significant when one considers that what was once

one of the most dangerous factories in the United States has now become a tourist attraction; in

other words, though the ghosts themselves are interesting to people, the significance of the

memories they once had has been essentially destroyed in favor of immortalizing the pain

associated with them.

The negativity behind memory is further stressed throughout the rest of the poem, which

discusses death in relation to memory. At one point, Smith writes, “remembering is suffocating,”

again associating remembering with a destruction of life. Using suffocation here, as opposed to

some other form of death, indicates that memories are stifling in their ubiquity, so stifling that

they almost inevitably lead to death. Smith goes on to imply that memories themselves are only

“mementos / of / suffering,” thus furthering the discussion of the negativity of memories,

especially when associated with the word “vulcan,” which is the name of the Roman “god of fire,

particularly in its destructive aspects” (“Vulcan”). This association with something as destructive

as fire makes memories themselves seem somewhat destructive, thus giving memory itself a

sense of power over the person who has said memory.

Ironically, Smith seems to value memory despite this negativity; in most of Organic

Furniture Cellar, poems are referred to by the date on which they happened, indicating a sense

of importance in preserving those memories. Like photographs, the poems seem intent on

capturing specific moments in her life, especially those with both locations and dates, such as

“Niagara Falls Revisited / 12.04.2003” (Organic 50). This suggests a sense of futility in fighting

the memories that otherwise seem to have negative connotations in “Locations along the Rust

Belt.” Smith does seem intent on preserving memories; in fact, she does not try to promote

immortality in her poetry, nor even on her blog, despite posts about Arakawa and his belief in the

possibility of immortality. Her preservation of these memories, despite their destructive nature,

speaks to the importance of preserving memory, not only for its ability to aid in predicting and

enhancing the future but also for its amplification of relationships.

Of course, these relationships are often downplayed in favor of discussing isolation.

“Locations along the Rust Belt,” for example, speaks of death and the loneliness associated with

it. It also contains imagery typically associated with isolation -- for example, the "unused / grain

elevators" and clear lack of a"loved one" that causes the subject to "want to remember" him all

create a distinct feeling of isolation and loneliness. In fact, every instance of a person in this

poem except for the the suggestion of a reader ("you") speaks only of someone lost, whether

through death or just forgetfulness. This poem has the same sense of lonely ethereality as “The

Wandering Rocks” and any of the rest of Smith’s poems, all of which seem to place the reader in

a strange, somewhat imagined location wholly independent of other human beings. This is

enhanced, naturally, by Smith’s structure, which she uses to isolate specific words in the same

way that she isolates her reader (and, in some cases, her speaker). Furthermore, the unique path

each reader will take throughout “Locations along the Rust Belt” speaks to that particular

reader’s isolation, as no two readers will read the poem in the same direction. This isolates each

reader, thus enhancing the feeling of isolation that Smith creates throughout her poetry.

Smith, with her penchant for unusual (often to the point of frustration) structure and

unique ability to create individual meanings for each individual reader, manages to set an almost

ethereal tone to most of her poetry, which is naturally supplemented by the plasticity with which

she writes. This poetry, influenced by her taste in art, music, and literature, creates a unique

experience for each reader who finds her poetry, specifically in the various paths in which most

of Smith’s poetry can be read.

Works Cited

Bernstein, Fred A. "A House Not for Mere Mortals . " The New York Times 3 Apr. 2008. Web. 13

Jan. 2011.

---. "Arakawa , Whose Art Tried to Halt Aging , Dies at 73. " The New York Times 20 May 2010.

Web. 13 Jan. 2011.

"PBS - JAZZ A Film By Ken Burns : Selected Artist Biography - John Coltrane . " PBS: Public

Broadcasting Service. Web. 14 Feb. 2011.

Smith , Jessica . “ Hiroshima Mon Amour . ” 20 May 2010. Web. 13 Jan. 2011.

---. Organic Furniture Cellar : Works on Paper , 2002-2004 . Lowell, Massachusetts: Outside

Voices, 2004. Print.

"The Sloss Furnace in Birmingham , Alabama ." Haunted Places To Go. Web. 18 Feb. 2011.

"The Odyssey Summary ." Shmoop: Study Guides & Teacher Resources. Web. 01 Feb. 2011.

"Vulcan." Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica,

2011. Web. 18 Feb. 2011.