As an obstinately monolingual American, I rely on the precious work of translators. The three poets I read most often in translation, in order of frequency, are Dante, Eugenio Montale and Zbigniew Herbert. I have much English and American poetry safely stored in memory – one of many reasons I am almost never bored -- but only scraps of the Italians and the Pole. Rough outlines, fragments, incomplete lines, yes. This is shameful, I know. One of the tests of great writing, especially poetry, is memorability. The personal stamp of some poets is so indelible, so poetically DNA-specific, as to lay claim not only to stanzas, lines and phrases but individual words. Perhaps this is the ultimate memorability, to wield a single word so forcefully that readers, centuries later, recognize its ownership. “Slant” immediately conjures Dickinson; “madding,” Gray. “Fruitfulness” and “clammy” are forever Keats’. I'm denied this with the three foreign-language poets cited above.  Montale was also a memorable writer of prose. In his 1949 essay “The Second Life of Art” he writes: "An art which destroys form while claiming to refine it denies itself its second and larger life: the life of memory and everyday circulation. I will try to explain what this second life of art is so as not to be misunderstood.” Montale dismisses much of modern poetry for it absence of this “second life”; that is, in the reader’s consciousness and, sometimes, his memory:   “Paradoxically, one could say that music, painting, and poetry begin to be understood when they are presented but they do not truly live if they lack the capacity to continue to exercise their powers beyond that moment, freeing themselves, mirroring themselves in that particular situation of life which made them possible. To enjoy a work of art or its moment, in short, is to discover it outside its context; only in that instant does the circle of understanding close and art become one with life as all the romantics dreamed.”   Montale was a rare critic who changed for the better my understanding of art. Clive James writes of him:   “If it ever came to the point where a lifetime’s memories of artistic exaltation shrank to nothing except a single image, an image of dignity would be a good one to see. One would want to retain at least that much. But Montale must have had that idea in mind, or he would not have talked about the inevitability of forgetting in a way that emphasized the quality of what is remembered.” Montale was born on this date, October 12, in 1896 and died in 1981 at age eighty-four.   [The Montale prose translations are taken from The Second Life of Art (trans. Jonathan Galassi, 1982). Clive James’ essay on Montale can be found in Cultural Amnesia (2007).]

The golden window of tech may have expired. In 2010, I came across a video of Mick Jagger being interviewed (text version here). It was for a re-release of Exile on Main Street with 10 new tracks. During the interview he says this: But I have a take on that — people only made money out of records for a very, very small time. When The Rolling Stones started out, we didn’t make any money out of records because record companies wouldn’t pay you! They didn’t pay anyone! Then, there was a small period from 1970 to 1997, where people did get paid, and they got paid very handsomely and everyone made money. But now that period has gone. So if you look at the history of recorded music from 1900 to now, there was a 25-year period where artists did very well, but the rest of the time they didn’t. In 2009, I had just started to recover or find my footing from the dot-com bust and the 2008 recession. I wondered about the tech industry’s longevity and resilience then, having experienced my first taste of startup life from 2000-2002. After which, I did my best to navigate what it meant to be a maker on the internet, before it figured out how to make money. I certainly didn’t make any for a number of years. What Jagger said has stuck with me ever since. I often come back to this when I think about any industry or vocation — how long do people really make money doing a thing? Tech feels that way now, again — that for a decade or more, coming out of 2008, people started to make money hand over fist, and tech was rosy, optimistic and all blue skies. We believed we could shape a utopian future, but eventually extracting value came calling, and has always been at the core of capitalism. And tech is a capitalist endeavor. Today, streaming has lobotomized all earnings for musical artists, which has led to heavy touring schedules and lucrative reunions capitalizing on fanbases that have only become even more endeared to the artists of their youth or formative years. Audiences are willing to dole out hundreds of dollars to see their favorite artists perform for hours in an arena or venue. We’re at an inflection point again, facing a different kind of existential threat. The younger generation will chalk this up to how tech is today, while those of us with decades in this industry and the long view of experience have either accepted it, made good money from it and retired, or are fighting the good fight. Is that period gone for tech too? And if so, what’s the equivalent of touring? → This looks better on the web → Reply via email Thanks for reading and using RSS!

it’s been going well for me.

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