Debortoli publishes poetry for haunted souls

In poet Elke Debortoli’s ‘Liquid Paralysis: Poetry for Haunted Souls’, an image that lingers is the moon. Sometimes iridescent, other times black, weeping or casting spells, it’s nocturnal and knowing presence gives light to an anthology enlivened by unflinching introspection, searing memory and tender remembrance.

It is this tenderness – alternately warm, contemplative or painful to the touch – that most imbues the anthology’s accompanying artworks by artist Erik Schnack. Bringing Debortoli’s artworks to life in a series of evocative acrylic paintings, Schnack joins the poet in a moving and multifaceted exhibition currently on display at Goethe-Institut Namibia.

The exhibition pairs Debortoli’s poetry and prose with Schnack’s responsive artwork and one can effectively read the anthology as one moves around the room, pausing at each frame. Should you have a spacious 40 minutes, the experience is worthwhile.

Expansive in her offering, Debortoli’s elegant, sometimes abrupt but thought-provoking reflections offer a glimpse into a mind intent on examining everything from her Catholic guilt, ‘cesspools of loathing’ and her ‘own capricious legacy’ to the ‘transcendent solidarity of women’.

Writing for Josef, Heather and Ericha, Belinda, Roy and Jeanne Dee, Debortoli introduces her ‘phantom visitors from the past’, one lost to the ocean, another navigating mental illness and others bonded in soul sisterhood.

Transportive in her depictions of campus life and in the promise of roses issued at a psychiatric hospital in 1987, Debortoli reaches back in time to share some of the moments that insist on a place in the present.

These and other recollections are an attempt to connect the dots, to solve the riddle of life, love, self and sheer existence that haunts us all.

“There is always one elusive clue that must be found to solve the riddle,” says Debortoli in her introduction.

“Most likely, the clue will be in words scribbled onto slivers of paper long ago in a seedy pub or at a road-side rest camp … on a cash receipt, a paper napkin, a matchbox or an empty cigarette packet long since surrendered to a dusty corner of home,” says Debortoli.

“I’ve conditioned myself to hoard my scraps, because each little note will bring me back to someone or some curious thing that evoked something in me … enough to hunt down ink, paper and bravado in an unlikely, unwritten place,” she says.

“Those scraps are the seeds of a thousand ideas and joyous expectation. I treasure them until I sabotage myself by second-guessing the sanctity of my inspiration,” she says.

“I forget that to be inspired is sacred, no matter how mundane the source appears.”

Alchemizing scraps into ruminations on relationships, the limits of language, grief, losing love for the ocean and on being foundlings and gods, Debortoli’s insomnia and her dreams come together to birth an anthology that is complex, at times cryptic but captivating.

“Elke is courageous,” writes fellow poet, artist and educator Don Stevenson in the anthology’s blurb. “By personal example, Elke has accepted the extreme discomfort inherent in embracing ‘fear and attraction in equal measures’,” Stevenson says.

“And doing so, [Elke] takes our hand to assure us: You will be all right, you’re alive!”

‘Liquid Paralysis: Poetry for Haunted Souls’ will be on display at Goethe-Institut Namibia until 25 April. Copies of the anthology are for sale at Goethe-Institut’s reception.

– martha@namibian.com.na; Martha Mukaiwa on Twitter and Instagram; marthamukaiwa.com

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