In 1942, Wallace Stevens published what is perhaps his greatest gift to the world of art, poetry, and metaphysics, Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction. Consisting of three sections, each made up of 10-poems, and a prologue and epilogue, Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction functions as an analysis of art, reality, and the modern human. This collection of poems, as Raina Kostova points out, “is not about a supreme fiction but constitutes a move toward one [...] in which poetic language, as a medium, will attempt to capture- or rather lure- a supreme fiction to take place” (33-34). From this statement, Notes can be looked at a way of thinking about the world and the role that human expression plays in creating and establishing it. Stevens solidifies this point when he claims, “the power of literature is that in describing the world it creates what it describes.”Stevens felt it was his duty to establish the role of the modern poet and artist, and considering the date of this book’s release (1942), this motivation was most likely influenced by World War II. Greed and hatred had produced vast waves of death and despair, and in the face of that horror, Stevens defended what he had always loved- his imagination and the unreal. The more people imagine, the more democratic our future reality will be.  

Looking at Stevens’ path toward a supreme fiction, with a heightened awareness of the Anthropocene, reminds me why we make art, and why we must all continue to make art. We make art to create future happenings, to inspire and change perspectives, to write new fictions, and to enrich people’s experience of the world. Considering the Earth’s current state of health, I find myself looking toward art and poetry more than ever to situate myself in the world. Humanity has entered the Anthropocene, an epoch defined by our own large-scale impact on the Earth. In the most ironic twist of fate, the epoch that is defined by our presence in the strata, often feels entirely out of our control. Erle C. Ellis’ Anthropocene: A Very Short Introduction falls into this trap, not in the material, but more so in the format, as a non-fiction book. Chapter after chapter of information detailing our absolute destruction of our beautiful planet left me feeling hopeless and out of control. It was not until the last chapter that Ellis offers us solace. Aptly entitled, “Prometheus” Ellis reveals more bias in this chapter than the rest of the book in its entirety. Prometheus, a Greek Titan, and god of fire, was often revered by artists for the role the god played in giving creativity and innovation to humanity. In the subsection entitled “Good Anthropocenes” Ellis alludes to the agency that humanity had in getting to where we are, and to the agency we still possess to be able to write new fictions. Ellis claims, “to imagine a good anthropocene is inherently a Promethean act” (156) well, then let’s be more Promethean.   

For this project I have decided to revisit what is perhaps my favorite poem from Notes, “Oak Leaves are Hands.” I wanted to return to this poem, to reframe it, as a supreme fiction written for the Anthropocene. As part of my own supreme fiction, I wanted to take Stevens’ anthropomorphism further. I wondered what Stevens’ poem would sound like to the tree that inspired it. The recording you are about to hear was made using an accelerometer- a special microphone capable of listening to sounds within three dimensional objects. I affixed the accelerometer to an oak tree that lives outside my bedroom window, and then proceeded to read “Oak Leaves are Hands” aloud.

"Oak Leaves Are Hands" Heard as an Oak Tree

This work was completed for the Digital Naturalisms Conference 2019 and is entitled Extemporization with Strangler Fig [Striation Sonification]. After finding a fig tree growing in the backyard of an abandoned home next to Adopta Bosque (a non-profit ecological conservation organization) and selecting it for its expansive size and symbiotic relationships with surrounding bushes and vines, as well as its sonic qualities and overall beauty, we inserted a stainless steel screw into the trunk and attached our accelerometer to the screw using a magnetic mount. The inner acoustics of the fig, including its ant and lizard inhabitants, were amplified and recorded with a digital audio recorder and monitored using headphones. We then enacted an improvisational performance with the fig using this system as a way of exploring material fetishism, ecological re-envisioning, and the poetics of digital interfaces.

For us, both musicians from a young age, playing music has always formed a large part of our social lives, and in catalyzing our ecological encounters- hearing and sounding as a way of belonging with others, in a space. We engendered that part of ourselves together in Gamboa by developing, researching, and completing this work together, with a single camera focussed on our trinity. Below is a link to the video of our performance, as well as still photographs that we took of each other as documentation of this union.

Dann Disciglio