Beginning with Joel 1 and then expanding to the entire book, poet GC Waldrep explores the divine act of artistically creating while addressing the book’s warnings of destruction in this stunning poem:

 

Hear this, you elders;
    listen, all who live in the land.
Has anything like this ever happened in your days
    or in the days of your ancestors?
Tell it to your children,
    and let your children tell it to their children,
    and their children to the next generation.
What the locust swarm has left
    the great locusts have eaten;
what the great locusts have left
    the young locusts have eaten;
what the young locusts have left
    other locusts have eaten.

(Joel 1:1-4)

 

 

Read GC’s poem, COMMENTARY ON JOEL

 

 

From the Artist:
 
I suspect that for the believing artist the question of where, how, when, and to what extent one engages Scripture is always thorny—especially when the grounds of engagement shift from belief itself (belief qua belief) to art, even when art feels essential to the believing artist’s fundamental sense of vocation. When Spark and Echo contacted me, I had already been thinking about a believing (or belief-driven) art as an exercise in parascription, a writing-around the Word. (I’d lately been co-teaching an interdisciplinary class on art practice, theory, and criticism focused on Dada, Surrealism, and Fluxus; it was Jackson Mac Low that provoked me parascriptively.)
 
In the case of Joel, there’s the added question of how one writes parascriptively around prophecy, around prophetic space. If one approaches prophecy as constantly and simultaneously both fulfilled and yet-to- be-fulfilled, then this space, this prophetic space, is an active, quickening zone. I think think this is especially true for the Hebrew prophets as acknowledged by the Christian perspective, their ministry both fulfilled (in the Person of Christ) and ongoing, as texts that reside and reverberate from and within the Word.
 
It’s easy to imagine Joel, for all his apocalyptic fervency, as a poet’s prophet, not so much for his images (although Joel deploys some fine images) as for his associational panache, which various Biblical commentators assure me has few contemporary parallels. The invasion of locusts is either prefatory to or like an invasion of flame (or drought), which in turn gives way (literally or figuratively) to an invading army. Locusts, flame, and armed invaders flicker, merge, fade back into the tightly-woven fabric of Joel’s verses. Similarly, the three valleys in the latter part of Joel function both literally and metaphorically, their aspects exchanging and imbricating. The structure of the book of Joel is associative, a nuanced equation moving organically into the unknowable. Various terms of that equation would have been very familiar to Jewish readers, but not the motion, the charged manner in which those terms were convoked, written-through.
 
As for my parascription, my writing-around, I worked initially in a constrained, rule-governed compositional space, moving through the text and also through four extensive commentaries (two ancient, two modern). That exercise in constraints gave way to the level of autobiography, the “locust”-ridden summers of my Southern childhood (actually cicadas) as well as my work as a young man in a maximum-security prison in North Carolina. My sense was of a gathering in the margins of the Word, an accretion—and then a paring-away.
 
I kept in mind the ancient and sacramental dictum (found in the Philokalia, among other sites) that God cannot be understood, only participated in. Thus, the poem, the artifact as an act not only of circumference, of writing- (or reading-) around, but also of ecstatic participation.

 

 

 
Lauren Russell_headshotG.C. Waldrep’s most recent books are a long poem, Testament (BOA Editions, 2015), and a chapbook, Susquehanna (Omnidawn, 2013). With Joshua Corey he edited The Arcadia Project: North American Postmodern Pastoral (Ahsahta, 2012). His new collection, feast gently, is due out from Tupelo Press in 2018. Waldrep’s work has appeared in Poetry, Ploughshares, APR, New England Review, New American Writing, Harper’s, Tin House, Verse, and many other journals in the USA and abroad, as well as in Best American Poetry 2010 and the 2nd edition of Norton’s Postmodern American Poetry. He has received prizes from the Poetry Society of America and the Academy of American Poets as well as the Colorado Prize, the Dorset Prize, the Campbell Corner Prize, two Pushcart Prizes, a Gertrude Stein Award for Innovative American Writing, and a 2007 National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship in Literature. Waldrep lives in Lewisburg, Pa., where he teaches at Bucknell University, edits the journal West Branch, and serves as Editor-at-Large for The Kenyon Review.
 

 

 

 
This work was curated by John Estes.

All materials are copyrighted by the artist and used here by permission.

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All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

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