That wandering divider of the world,
So casually able to do anything:
The extended clothesline that will carry trains,
For instance, or the lines of letters whose
Interstices vary the planes between
The far horizon and the very near nose."
This is Howard Nemerov in “Metamorphoses” (The Next Room
of the Dream, 1962), a poem “according to Steinberg” -- that is, Saul Steinberg
(1914-1999), a rare artist who makes anything seem possible with the simplest
of artistic means. “Line” is a useful word because it applies equally to
the graphic and the linguistic. It’s where cartoonists and poet begin and
where they remain first cousins. Steinberg called himself “a writer who draws,”
and titled one of his largest works “The Line.” In 1945 he published All in Line. Laurence Sterne drew a memorable line.
Joseph Epstein titled his 1991 essay collection A Line Out for
a Walk. He borrowed the line from Paul Klee, who, when asked to
recount his artistic strategy, replied, rather wonderfully, “I take a line
out for a walk.” Epstein writes about Steinberg here, and goes on to say of the
line from Klee: “I have thought of it afresh each time I began a new essay; it
describes exactly, precisely, absolutely, what I do.” At the risk of
presumption, it describes exactly, etc., what I do as well, each time I sit
down to write, usually with only the vaguest notion of where I’m headed, what
line I’ll follow.
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