"I thank the Lord for crudity, which is rawness, which is raw material, which is the part of life not yet worked up into form, or at least not worked all the way up. We meet with another fallacy of the foolish: having had a glimpse of finished art, they forever after pine for a society that shall be nothing but finished art–why not a world safe for good government and art–all things perfectly accomplished. An artist delights in roughness for what he can do to it. He's the brute who can knock the corners off the marble block. So also is the statesman politician: only the statesman works in a more protean mass of material that hardly holds any shape long enough for the craftsman to point it out and get credit for it. His material is a rolling mob. The poet's material is words that for all we say and feel against them are more manageable than men …"
.
From The Notebooks of Robert Frost, as excerpted in Harper's January 2007 issue.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario