Peter Butler’s Ekphrastic Haibun

One doesn’t see an abundance of ekphrastic haibun in contemporary journals, but they do appear from time to time in various journals and collections. It’s my view that ekphrasis in haibun composition could, and even should play a more prominent role in our collected literature. I also think that the practice of ekphrasis is a useful way for writers to develop their haibun composition skills.

To explore the practice of ekphrasis, I’ll focus on one piece, Peter Butler’s “Instructing the Mona Lisa” in order to gain an insight into one approach to ekphrastic writing and as a springboard to discussing the technique of ekphrastic haibun.

The word “Ekphrasis” comes from the Greek ek and phrasis, ‘out’ and ‘speak’ respectively. Initially, Greek philosophers used the practice of ekphrasis to expand their students’ rhetorical repertoires by learning to bring the experience of an object to a listener or reader through highly detailed descriptive writing or oration. (1)

Instructing Mona Lisa

Relax, Lisa. Not quite facing me, more a half-glance. Nails clean? Then hands on lap, right over left. As to expression, no laughing please without your teeth. Lips together.

Now imagine yourself in a post-coital situation—not with me, of course, nor necessarily your husband.

That is perfect, Lisa. Hold it if you can, several hundred years.

gallery attendant
checking the time
to his next break

From its title, the haibun’s subject will be obvious to most, if not all, readers. Most will also be able to produce a mental image of the Mona Lisa’s enigmatic smile.

Currently ekphrasis refers to the use of a writer’s own literary genre (e.g., free verse poetry or haibun or tanka prose or prose poetry) to reflect on another art form (e.g., a painting or a stained glass window or a sculpture ). (2) Where a free verse or a haibun poet might pen a piece about a walk in a wildflower meadow (nature’s artwork), an ekphrastic piece would be about the writer’s projection into a watercolor of a wildflower meadow (a painter’s artwork). In general, the ekphrasis won’t consist of a simple description or literal translations of the painting, but instead modern ekphrastic writing serves as a creative bridge authors use the form to interpret symbolic meanings, impose new narratives, confront the historical context of a piece, or reflect their own emotional and psychological responses to the artwork. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

Ekphrasis has a long history in poetry, but ekphrastic haibun have appeared only recently. Modern ekphrastic poems have generally shrugged off antiquity’s use of elaborate description as in the case of Homer’s detailed description of Achilles’ shield. Instead, poets have tried to interpret, inhabit, confront, and speak to their subjects as a springboard to a poetic expression.

One that is unusual in content and that I found quite entertaining is Peter Butler’s “Instructing Mona Lisa”:

Butler’s first paragraph is both inventive and replete with descriptive detail. He imagines himself to be a painter with Madonna Lisa (who he calls “Lisa”) sitting for him. The charm of the piece comes with his instructions:

Relax Lisa. Not quite facing me, more a half-glance. Nails clean? Then hands on lap, right over left. As to expression, no laughing please without your teeth. Lips together.

As can be seen, his description fits perfectly with her demeanor.

In the second paragraph, Butler abandons descriptive detail and makes a further leap of inventive fancy that creates a shift in the mood to ribald. His protagonist suggests:

Now imagine yourself in a post-coital situation—not with me, of course, nor necessarily your husband.

The third paragraph delivers a witty punch line:

That is perfect, Lisa. Hold it if you can, several hundred years.

This serves as another shift, taking us back to the reality of the writer sitting at his keyboard spinning fantasy.

The haiku anchors us further in reality. The first phrase (“gallery attendant”) places Butler sitting in the Louvre (or any gallery or even at home looking at a reproduction). The second phrase (“checking his time / to the next break”) uses time to bring us back to the present.

gallery attendant
checking the time
to his next brea
k

Readers can spin off in different directions. Here’s mine: the guard spends a work-day lifetime among the paintings and viewers and I can’t imagine anything but boredom. But viewing art can become boring even for those (myself included) who have a difficult time spending more than an hour or two in a gallery. Perhaps with Butler-type fantasy-projection as a helpmate, I could last with “Lisa” a bit longer.

Butler’s take on the Mona Lisa captured my interest more than the plethora of art criticism that has been done on it and in particular the speculations about what that smile might mean. In short, he’s gotten me to take a closer look at a painting that I’d stopped being willing to give more than a passing glance.

A good deal has been suggested recently about the role of the title in haibun. Robert Beary, Haibun Editor of Modern Haiku thinks a title should be more than the one offered by Butler:

In haibun, the wrong title is like a wrong number. It makes the reader want to hang up the phone. A haibun’s title should be strong enough to draw the reader into the prose and make the reader want more. Let the title be a link to the prose and the haiku, not give away the rest of the piece. After reading the entire haibun, the reader should be able to look at the title and see more than one meaning.

For myself, I think that Butler’s title serves well enough to orient the reader about what’s to come. But some readers likely prefer less direction, a title that isn’t so predictive, allowing the piece to unfold more slowly.

I’d like to see more writers occasionally stray from more traditional approaches and give invention, of which ekphrasis is one form, a try. I did a survey of the haibun and tanka prose appearing in the 2013 year’s issues of A Hundred Gourds, Contemporary Haibun Online and Haibun Today and found that of the 626 total haibun and tanka prose that appeared, only 19 were ekphrastic pieces (3% of the total) and 6 of those 19 were by one writer. Of course, there were other types of imaginative writing.

Poet Martin Porter provides a motive for trying ones hand at ekphrastic writing:

Finding ‘stuff” to write about can be difficult. The notions of “writing what you know,” “write what you see around you” and “write from experience” are all good in principle, but when these sources seem exhausted, dry or repetitious and unchallenging, it can be useful to take a break and borrow material from somewhere else.

I’d go further than Porter. Most haibunists live in urban environments that provide little access to natural settings, and with lots of access to humankind’s rich accumulation of artwork. Museums, art galleries, statuary, architecture and even expressive graffiti are part of this heritage. Thus, for inspiration, one type of contemporary ginko can be thought of as a museum or gallery visit, a walk around the town square, or even an evening by the fire with a photography book.

Butler’s brand of inventive wit made my day as reader and editor. I enjoy pieces with rays of lightness as a balance to the more somber tones that dominate our genre. While some definitions of haibun mention humor, my sense is that there’s very little humor or wit to be found in the pages of our journals. How about we lighten up a bit!

. .

Notes:

“Instructing Mona Lisa” first appeared in Haibun Today 6:4, December 2012.

Peter Butler’s newly released collection contains a different, expanded version of “Instructing Mona Lisa.” Peter Butler, The Trouble with Mona Lisa: A Haibun Collection, 2015, paperback: 64 pages, can be purchased through Alba Publishing.

To see Homer’s ekphrastic poem and an image of Achilles’ shield go to “The Shield of Achilles.”

For more a formal art criticism discussion about the Mona Lisa, visit the Art and Critique website.

Roberta Beary’s comments on haibun titles are found in “The Lost Weekend,” Frogpond, Volume 34:3 2011.

Martin Porter, “Notes on Ekphrasis,” Poetry Notes and Jottings website, December 19, 2012.

Passages above on Ekphrasis were taken from a number of sources, including: “Ekphrasis: Poetry Confronting Art,” taken from the American Academy of Poets online site Poets.Org.


A Monk’s Journey

courtesan and monk,
we sleep under one roof together,
moon in a field of clover
~ Bashō

Outside, apple blossoms glow in the dusk. She lies on her side, head propped up on a pillow, her eyes telling me that something important is coming, my eyes taking in the candlelight on her breasts.

“I need to know more about you,” she says.

“Do you mean about being a monk?”

“Yes, because right now you don’t seem very much like a monk.” She glances at my hand wandering slowly along the curve of her hip.

“You’re thinking about Christian monks, the ones who lived in dank cells, ate lentils and hard bread; the ones who whipped themselves. Think instead about Bashō, the Japanese monk who traveled extensively, shared his poetry with peasants and samurai nobles, loved flowers, enjoyed the company of women. Think more of a European troubadour with haiku as his song – but in this case, an older guy, with gray hair.”

I’m a wanderer
so let that be my name –
the first winter rain
~ Bashō

“Does this mean that I’m just someone who happens to sleep with you?”

“No, but I’ve been a partner all of my life and for now I need not to be.”

“So what am I?” she asks. “I don’t know how to tell my friends whatever it is we’re doing. It feels like more than dating or having sex and it’s not friendship because I don’t sleep with my friends.”

how reluctantly
the bee emerges
from deep within the peony
~ Bashō

“Can’t we simply enjoy what we have,” I reply.

“I’m reluctant to give up the feel of your skin against mine, but I’ll have to think about this.” She pecks a kiss, dresses and leaves.

A week later her note arrives: “I have such good memories of our moments together. It’s a gift to desire and be desired, but we need such different things.”

winter seclusion –
sitting propped against
the same worn post
~ Bashō

monkshood bloom
the whine of mosquitoes
seems dimnished
~ Ray Rasmussen

red bar

haibun: First published in Simply Haiku, 6:4, Winter 2008.
Ray Rasmussen’s haiku was published in Modern haiku.
Basho’s haiku are translations found at the website titled “Bashō” which cited R.H. Blyth, W.J. Higginson, J. Reichhold and Sam Hamill as among the various translators.

Exploring Haibun, Haiga and Haiku

Welcome. My intent is to show examples and to discuss contemporary English-language haibun and haiga which necessitate also exploring haiku (haibun prose’s and haiga image’s little partner).

  • Haibun: A mix of Title, prose and haiku. Akin to short memoirs and personal essays. Typically non-fiction.
  • Haibun: A mix of image and haiku. Images including paintings of any type, photographs, digital art.
  • . . . -> More about this blog and Ray Rasmussen

Haiga Galleries: haiga – a mix of image and haiku

Haigaonline Journal:

Daily Haiga Journal:

an’ya: Haiga Gallery

Pamela A. Babusci: Haiga Gallery

Ron Moss: Haiga Gallery

Nicole Hague-Andrews’ Haiga pages

Maria Tomczak: Haiga Gallery

Ray Rasmussen: A Covid Summer, 2020

[other haiga themes along with examples by other haiga practitioners will be added from time to time]

About Haiga

As is the case with haiku and haibun, contemporary English-language haiga is only recently adapted from the early and contemporary Japanese forms to fit Western poetic and artistic sensibilities. The internet is rife with pronouncements, prescriptions and orthodoxies about the relationship of image and haiku. Does the haiku serve as a metaphor for the image, or does it jump-shift to form an oblique association with the image, or does it simply serve as a kind of caption for the image? And the usual arguments about the haiku itself are also are in abundance, e.g., whether the haiku should be able to stand on its own, sans image. For now, it’s likely that English-language western haiga practice will continue to evolve and gain in practitioners.

While the original Japanese haiga were usually a combination of monochrome (grey-scale) brush paintings with kanji-type characters and calligraphy for the poems. Contemporary haiga as shown in various publications such as Haigaonline employ paintings of various media, photographic images and digital artworks.

In short, as with any evolving form, one hopes for creative image-making and pleasing to the eye artwork along with poems that are poetic and stimulating to the mind.

Asian practitioners employed a “chop” – a symbol representing the author. If well done, the chop itself has some beauty and lends an association with the lengthy tradition of Asian art.

Commentary: Glen Coats’ Witness

| Haibun Exemplars | Haibun Commentaries | Haibun Close Reading Guide |

from the film “Witness”

Commentary by Ray Rasmussen

This commentary is one of several on the Haibun Exemplars I’ve selected for viewing. It follows well-known poet Robert Pinsky’s idea that to know poetry, in our case haibun, is to do close readings, at least on occasion of writers whose work you enjoy, and that close readings will help improve the reader’s range of writing styles and the quality of his or her writing. -> read more

If you want to learn about poetry — if you want to “access” it — what you need to do is find great poems you like, figure out which are worth rereading and then reread them.
~ Robert Pinsky

Haibun Exemplars

| Haibun Exemplars | Haibun Commentaries | Haibun Close Reading Guide |

Exemplars: What are they? Why are they here?

The Rogue River falls shown above is, in my estimation, nature’s exemplar of a waterfall. I’d also like to say that it’s a photographic exemplar, aka an excellent photograph, but for that it’s my own shot of the falls. Thus someone else will have to praise it or buy it or publish it for it to approach the lofty rank of exemplar.

On this page, over time, I’ll post a number of haibun by writers other than myself that in my view are both well done and help to show the variety of styles that represent contemporary English-language haibun.

For some of these exemplars, I’ll offer commentaries – close readings to explore what makes them work well enough to have been published by a journal editor.

Of course, my tastes in this selection are showing, which is why I think it’s important to post published works where an editor independent of the writer saw fit to select the piece for the enjoyment of his or her readers.

If you read any of these, please use the comments window where they appear to tell me what you think of them and a bit about why.


How to Read Haiku

With The Heron’s Nest Editor Fay Aoyagi and Haijin Chad Lee Robinson

Kitagawa Utamaro, circa 1790s

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Early on in my haiku and haibun journey, editors rejected my haibun and several advised me to read haiku, saying that I’d not be able to write a good haibun until I had mastered the haiku part of haibun’s prose-haiku partnership. I had already looked at the many definitions of the two related genres (haiku and haibun), but found definitions lacking in specifics and mostly useless except as a rough guide, particularly the formulaic definitions like number of lines and syllable counts.

So I read a lot of haiku, both those of the Japanese masters and of the published works contemporary haijin and learned I simply didn’t get much out of them except that most didn’t follow the 5-7-5, 3-line, short-long-short structure learned in English classes.

And I mostly wondered why the editors picked the haiku featured in their journals. I concluded that haiku are not only difficult to write, but they are also difficult to read and understand, to “get the poetic spark,” so to speak. A problem was that I had a tendency to read them once quickly and to read too many at a time. In short, I was merely glancing at them, expecting a spark to jump out at me. I wasn’t engaging in what might be called “deep reading.”

I decided that in order to better understand haiku and thus, to be better able to write a worthy haiku and haibun, I had to first hone my haiku reading skills. In this way, I might be able to appreciate and understand why the editors selected some and not others, and particularly why they didn’t accept mine. And that’s what this three-part series is about – How to do a deep reading of haiku for better understanding of the nature of haiku.

Continue reading -> Part 1