R e f l e c t i o n s
on James Joyce
A drawing reflection on the writer through figurative imagery, based on his biography and his prose. It seeks to reclaim through its visual language analogies or traces of influence by the author’s peculiar temperament.
Portraits
Moments
Telemachus
Joyce in Trieste
This is the story of a youth
Who left his country to go south
Willing to launch a brand new life
Together with his Dublin wife
In a determinative jest
He took the way to Trieste
To safeguard his vanity
From nation and Christianity
Because he wants to write some prose
Which could get in his townsmen nose
And deems that writing from the distance
Would save from danger his existence
***
In an apartment of one room
He’s far from being the perfect groom
Family life he abhors
And visits frequently the whores
Marriage can transform any man
To a domestic animal
And to escape a life bovine
He finds refuge to bottles of wine
And pride won’t let him to repent
His impotence to pay the rent
For men who worked for sacred causes
Life’s never been a bed of roses
***
And as inside his troubled mind
He still misses his motherland
His steadily uncommon sense
Calls for some kind of revenge
And targets with his bitter pen
Preferably fellow countrymen
***
As if all this was not enough
He’s envying his pretty wife
With bitterness combined with lust
For her affairs in distant past
Keeping always an eye on her
He lurks for the adulterer
Which he will suddenly uncover
And the affair will be all over
Meanwhile his rage and desperation
Have fetched delights of inspiration
Still the intensive tribulation
Of that feverish mind
And his life's stresfull situation
Deteriorate his troubled eyes
***
Throughout his working as a teacher
He manifests his discontent
And benefits of every chance
To proudly talk about his troubles
With funny words and self-sarcasm
To supplement his low income
Some private lessons should be done
To pretty girls of high class
To merchants and aristocrats
To businessmen and men of power
He teaches English by the hour
However this is not enough
To pay the bills and he cannot
Refrain himself from carelessly spending
His very meager daily earning
***
Then he thinks as a wisely owl
To call in help a brother soul
Whose loyalty from childhood
Was usefull and well understood
Without delay the good ally
Comes to support his carefree life
By financing his family
He saves them from calamity
***
Meanwhile the author tries hard
To advertise his fine art
And as the way to publication
Won’t be without solicitation
Some unexpectable success
Will help him out of distress
Cause he is destined to be found
By someone named Ezra Pound
The editors of Egoist
Would put him high on their list
Among them one progressive mother
Admires him more than any other