MER PARAGUAYENNE / PARAGUAYAN SEA

Andrew Forster & Erín Moure


 

Wilson Bueno à Montréal via Erín Moure via Andrew Forster, l’Endroit indiqué  évenement hors site :
pavilion EV Université Concordia, 1515 Ste-Catherine Ouest (entre Guy et McKay)
août – décembre 2017


Une intervention textuelle dans l’espace public produite par le collectif l’Endroit indiqué et la galerie FOFA (Université Concordia), Mer paraguayenne est le fruit d’une collaboration entre l’artiste visuel montréalais Andrew Forster et la poète montréalaise Erín Moure. Cette œuvre graphique et typographique trilingue  —  français, anglais et guarani  — relaie le texte poétique d’Erín Moure, une traduction en «frenglish» du roman Mar Paraguayo de l’auteur brésilien Wilson Bueno. Le roman de Bueno est écrit dans un hybride de trois langues, en portunhol (portugais/espanol) et guaraní. Le guaraní est l’une des langues originelles du Paraguay et des régions avoisinantes. La traduction de Moure conserve le guaraní et mêle le portunhol de Bueno à l’anglais et au français. La police typographique (Iguana) a été conçue spécialement pour cette œuvre.

L’œuvre exprime un questionnement sur la possibilité de tourner les pratiques créatrices complexes et rigoureuses (comme l’art) vers l’extérieur et l’espace public – telle une peau retournée. Comment ce viscère de langage poétique rivalise-t-il avec la syntaxe instrumentale des publicités et du « branding » de la rue? Le texte n’est pas bilingue ou trilingue, mais sinue entre trois langues pour rendre un sens global. Ainsi, il reflète non pas une politique linguistique officielle, mais plutôt un amalgame vécu et imaginatif de langage et de signification qui évoque le mélange créatif propre à l’hybridité urbaine montréalaise.

Une table ronde sur l’art public et la traduction aura lieu à la Galerie FOFA en novembre.

Wilson Bueno in Montreal via Erín Moure via Andrew Forster – l’Endroit indiqué off-site:
EV Building, Concordia University, 1515 Ste-Catherine west, Montreal (between Guy & McKay)
August – December 2017

A public typography produced by the collective l’Endroit indiqué and FOFA Gallery (Faculty of Fine Arts, Concordia University). Paraguayan Sea is a text intervention by Montreal visual artist Andrew Forster in collaboration with Montreal poet Erín Moure. This graphic and typographic artwork in a mix of three languages—French, English and Guaraní—relays Moure’s poetic translation into Frenglish and Guaraní of the novela in Portunhol and Guaraní, Mar Paraguayo, by Brazilian writer Wilson Bueno. Guaraní is one of the original languages of Paraguay and surrounding regions. Bueno’s Mar Paraguayo is written in a hybrid of three languages. Moure’s translation maintains the Guaraní and allows Bueno’s Portunol to slide between English and French. The typographic font (Iguana) was designed specifically for this piece.

The piece questions if it is possible to turn rigorous and complex creative practices (such as art) outwards towards public space—like a skin turned inside out. How does this viscera of poetic language compete with the instrumental syntax of advertising and branding on the street? The text is not bilingual or trilingual but, rather, moves in and out of three different languages making one meaning. As such, it reflects not an official politics or policy of language but a lived and creative amalgam of language and meaning reflective of the creative ‘mix’ that is Montreal’s urban hybridity.

A discussion with Erín and Andrew on public art and translation will take place at FOFA in November.

 

Wilson Bueno (Jaguapita, Paraná, Brésil, 1949—Curitiba, Brésil 2010) est l’auteur de nombreux livres fondamentaux de la littérature moderne brésilienne : Bolero’s Bar (1986), Manual de Zoofilia (1991), Cristal (1995), Pequeño Tratado de Brinquedos (1996), Jardim Zoológico (1999), A Cavalo (2000), Amar-te a ti nem sei se com Carícias (2004) et Cachorros do Céu (2005).  Son ouvrage Mar Paraguayo (1992) est un cas particulier, il s’agit de la seule œuvre de Bueno écrite dans un mélange de trois langues: portugais, castillan et guarani. La première édition de Mar Paraguayo a été publiée par Iluminuras (Brésil, 1992) avec un prologue de Néstor Perlongher. Le livre a été republié dans sa version originale au Chili (Intemperie, 2001), en Argentine (Tse-Tsé, 2005) et au Mexique (Bonobos, 2006).  L’écrivaine et traductrice montréalaise Erín Moure en complète présentement une traduction en franglais qui sera publiée aux États-Unis afin de faire connaitre ce texte magnifique au nord des Amériques.

Wilson Bueno (Jaguapita, Paraná, Brazil, 1949—Curitiba, Brazil 2010) was well-known in Brazil, and wrote several books fundamental to contemporary Brazilian literature, such as: Bolero’s Bar (1986), Manual de Zoofilia (1991), Cristal (1995), Pequeño Tratado de Brinquedo” (1996), Jardim Zoológico (1999), A Cavalo (2000), Amar-te a ti nem sei se com Carícias (2004) and Cachorros do Céu (2005).  His Mar Paraguayo (1992) is a special case, the only work of Bueno written in a mixture of three languages: Portuguese and Spanish (or Portunhol) and Guaraní. The first editoin of Mar Paraguayo was published in 1992 in Brazil by Iluminaras, with a prologue by Néstor Perlongher. The book was republished in its original version in Chile, (Intemperie, 2001); Argentina (Tse-Tsé, 2005) and in Mexico (Bonobos, 2006).  Montreal writer and translator Erín Moure is completing a translation into Frenglish (leaving the Guaraní) for publication in the USA, so that this magnificent text can be read in the north of the Americas.

Erín Moure In 2016, poet Erín Moure published translations from French of François Turcot’s My Dinosaur, and from Galician of Chus Pato’s Flesh of Leviathan and Rosalía de Castro’s New Leaves. A 40-year retrospective of her own poetry, Planetary Noise: Selected Poetry of Erín Moure , edited by Shannon Maguire (Wesleyan University Press), appeared in spring 2017. Her translation from Brazilian Portunhol into Montreal Frenglish of Wilson Bueno’s Paraguayan Sea (Nightboat Books) will appear in October, 2017, and in Galicia, her translation of Antón Lopo’s biography of Uxío Novoneyra, Distance of the Wolf (Novoneyra Foundation), will be published in June. Moure holds two honorary doctorates for her contribution to poetry, Brandon University (2008) and Universidade de Vigo in Spain (2016). As the Woodberry Poetry Room Fellow for 2016-2017 at Harvard University, she spent nine days in April listening to the poetry of Elizabeth Bishop and Muriel Rukseyer, and reading that of Angelina Weld Grimké, in preparation for creating a new poetic work on migration, asthma, and women.

Erín Moure En 2016, la poète Erín Moure a publié My DinosaurLeviathan et New Leaves, traductions anglaises de recueils écrits respectivement en français par François Turcot et en galicien par Chus Pato et Rosalía de Castro. Au printemps 2017 a paru une rétrospective de sa propre poésie intitulée Planetary Noise: Selected Poetry of Erín Moure. Couvrant une période de 40 ans, l’ouvrage est publié par Wesleyan University Press sous la direction de Shannon Maguire. En octobre 2017, la poète publiera une traduction en frenglish de Montréal de Paraguayan Sea (Nightboat Books), œuvre en portunhol du Brésil signée Wilson Bueno. De plus, en juin prochain, elle publiera en Galice, sous le titre Distance of the Wolf (Novoneyra Foundation), une traduction de la biographie d’Uxío Novoneyra par Antón Lopo. Erín Moure est titulaire de deux doctorats honorifiques – un de la Brandon University (2008), au Manitoba, et l’autre de l’Université de Vigo (2016), en Espagne – pour sa contribution à la poésie. Chercheuse associée en création de la Woodberry Poetry Room de l’Université Harvard en 2016-2017, elle y a passé neuf jours en avril à écouter la poésie d’Elizabeth Bishop et de Muriel Rukseyer, ainsi qu’à lire celle d’Angelina Weld Grimké, afin de se préparer à la création d’une nouvelle œuvre poétique sur la migration, l’asthme, et les femmes.

Andrew Forster lives in Montreal. His work includes installation, video, performance, live public events and other collaborative and cross-disciplinary projects. His current work centers on video-video installation of movement-based performance shown in visual art and dance venues, and text-installations for public space. Forster’s past work includes a performance for 75 people entitled En masse with choreographer Suzanne Miller (Tangente, Montreal); Ossip, and a dance performance based on the poetry of Ossip Mandelstam (coproduction OVertigo/Tangente). He has done several performance-based works for public space including Cinéma (Société des arts technologiques), a multi-media piece with live performance and live-mixed audio taking place outdoors in Place de la paix for an audience seated indoors looking out through SAT’s storefront windows.He has also participated as an artist in several design competitions for public space, including the winning proposal in a competition for a new entrance to Place des Arts, Montreal (with architects Atelier Big City) and a competition for a video projection on the new Wilder Espace Danse in Montreal (2017).

Andrew Forster vit à Montréal. Dans sa pratique, il utilise différents médias : installations performance-vidéo, performance, vidéo, installations textuelles et photographie. Son travail actuel prend deux directions principales : des installations textuelles pour des espaces publics ; et installation, performance-vidéo et performance présentées dans des lieux dédiés à l’art visuel ou à la danse. Il a réalisé plusieurs projets artistiques pour des espaces publics, dont Cinéma (Société des arts technologiques), pièce multimédia avec performance et diffusion audio en direct ainsi que projection vidéo, se déroulant à l’extérieur, sur la place de la Paix, pour un public assis à l’intérieur de la SAT.  Parmi ses autres projets, on retrouve : En masse, performance pour 75 personnes (avec la chorégraphe Suzanne Miller, à Tangente, Montréal); et Ossip, performance dansée inspirée de la poésie d’Ossip Mandelstam (co-production O Vertigo/Tangente). Par ailleurs, il participe, comme artiste, à plusieurs concours de design, notamment la réalisation du projet lauréat du concours pour une nouvelle entrée de la Place des Arts à Montréal (avec l’atelier d’architectes Big City); programme d’identité du Quartier des spectacles, Montréal (2004) ainsi que Concours international d’idées YUL-MTL : Paysages en mouvement (2011).

 

links / liens :

Galerie FOFA,  Université Concordia : http://www.concordia.ca/cuevents/finearts/fofa/2017/08/03/exhibition-andrew-forster-erin-moure.html

Nightboat Books (Paraguayan Sea appears in October) :
http://nightboat.org/catalog/2017

Interview with Erín Moure :
http://www.wordswithoutborders.org/dispatches/article/the-translator-relay-erin-moure

 

 

extrait :

one dusk après une autre I sit ici on this sofa diagonal to the window, and in sitting it’s presque as if everything’s crumbling into bits: cramps in the guts: setting sun weaving humid nuances: spaces from où move déjà les occupations cérémoniales of light and lune: between the crowns of sombreros or entre les durs vides of the fig tree that devastate into shadow and suspicion in the crépuscule of the sea resort: figuier, couronne, sombreros: la ancestral speech of fathers and grands-pères that infinitely vanishes into memory, they entertain all speech et tricot: these Guaraní voices simplement eternalize as they go on weaving: ñandu: there is no better fabric than the web des feuilles tissées all together, ñándu, together and between the arabesques that, symphonique, interweave, checkerboard of green and bird et chant, in the happy amble of a freedom: ñanduti: ñandurenimbó:

Paraguayan Sea Soup

original introduction to Mar Paraguayo by Néstor Perlonguer, São Paulo, 1992, translated and intertweeted from Spanish by Erín Moure

Paraguayan Sea, by Wilson Bueno, is an exceptional event, of the kind that are usually so quiet they are almost imperceptible, detected only by those in the know. But once they happen, it’s as if they were always meant to exist. Everything’s the same yet, subtly, all is altered. The event pokes holes in our habits, and in the rhythms of the cosmos; its perturbations are tinged with an indescribable glint of the irreversible, of the definitive.

In this case, the event involves the invention of a language. Imitation and invention, says Gabriel Tarde, are the greatest of human passions (practices). Maybe it was Wilson Bueno who actually “invented” Portunhol (a Portunhol dappled with Guaraní which deploys from beneath, in the pulsing marrow of the language, something Argentinian—or Correntine— poet Francisco Madariaga invoked from above in his luxuriously humidly surrealist gaucho-Bedouin-Afro-Hispanic-Guaraní) or else, from his artistic Altazor, Bueno plucked it out, or snitched it from small talk, warm bowl in hand and the gringa keeping the maté topped up from the pot, outside behind the kitchen in wicker chairs in the yard. He grabbed it in Spanish and Portuguese, let it enter one ear without it escaping the other. It might seem a stretch but Wilson Bueno has something of Manuel Puig, whose writings, based in conversation, also shoot the breeze, and something of the commentator as well, because he absorbs then broadcasts in a common parlance. For almost all Hispano-Americans in Brazil express themselves in an inconsistent, precarious and fickle mix of languages.

This mixture, well entrenched, is not structured as a predetermined code of signification; it’s faithful only to its own capriciousness, deviance and error.

Portunhol is immediately poetic. Between the two major languages, there’s a vacillation, a tension, a constant oscillation: one is, at once, the “error” of the other and its possible destiny, uncertain and improbable. A singular fascination arises from this clash of deviances (as a linguist with a legal bent might say). There’s no rule of law: there’s grammar but it’s unruly; there’s orthography, but it’s erratic: chuva and lluvia in Spanish and Portuguese (spelled whichever way) coexist in the same paragraph, to mention but one of innumerable examples.

As aberrant mixture, Paraguayan Sea is akin to Paraguayan soup, a dish that, contrary to expectations, does not invite a soup spoon, but is a kind of sui generis omelet or corn bread. The waves of the Sea are tottering: who knows where they’ll topple, they lack harbour and itinerary; everything in them bobs in baroque suspension between prose and poetry, becoming-animal and becoming-woman.

Out of the breadth of this blooming Paraguayan Sea—which recalls a schoolchild’s epic poem by Esteban Echeverría, “incommensurable, open and mysterious from head to toe”—poetry catches us, leaps on us like a puppy—the microscopic Brinks—sometimes playful, sometimes savage. Perhaps it is poetry, for it appears—some critics would say—casually, without determination in the indeterminate.

A continual hilarity, unprovoked and born naturally from the linguistic amalgam, marks Bueno’s disquieting text. An avant-garde experience, the text can be compared to Catatau by Paulo Leminski (significantly, also from Parana) and, even more daringly, to Julián Ríos’s Larva: they all play with language, inventing and reinventing it. But whereas Catatau rests on the high culture that impregnates its subtext despite collapses, destructions and reconstructions, Bueno’s book is founded on a pathetic burst of laughter, the tragi-comedy of everyday agonies incarnated in the slippage of languages, one of those tragic soap operas that ends badly if at all, though one with more density, depth: it may seem entertaining but is no entertainment.

The merit of Paraguayan Sea lies precisely in the microscopic and molecular labour within its galloping inter-languages (or inter-rivers), within its indeterminations which function as a minor language (to echo Deleuze and Guattari) that mines the preposterous majesty of major languages, through which it wanders as if without intention, without system, completely untimely and surprising, like good poetry, never predictable. The tale is like Bueno’s Guaratuban doll-face who, in giving her dog kilometrically diminutive nicknames (blossoms plucked from Guaraní that irrupt to intensify the poetic temperature of the tale), extends the microscopia of its canine grandeur, to attract and seduce us with the motion of its bifurcated tail, as if it were mermaid pretending to be manatee, or manatee mimicking mermaid, until the sprinkled glitter of its scaly tail drowns us in the irridescent ecstasy of a vast, deep sea.

How, finally, to read Paraguayan Sea? Those with an obsession for plot (which exists but its matter is indecisive and entangled, given its porous composition) who ignore the poetic evolutions and mutations of its language will miss out, like those readers of (badly) translated pulp novels who gravitate toward half-digested plot resumés. Paraguayan Sea may be a torrid tale, but it can’t be turned into a tweet!

 

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