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The editorial staff of the American magazine
Two Drops Of Ink recently decided to bring more literary interviews.
Befriended author Neil Leadbeater coincidentally had just finished one
with Albert Hagenaars. His article was published in the magazine
August 7th 2017.
What inspired you initially to become a writer?
Like most adolescents, I wrote my first poems when I was fifteen or
sixteen years old. The poetry lessons at school were important, in the
four languages most Dutch high school kids are taught. But I also
started painting and, later, had an art gallery. For a few years, I
couldn’t choose between these disciplines. Around 1980, staying in
France, I chose poetry. I just couldn’t stop writing poems, even when
I wanted to. I have to confess the choice also depended on the lack of
space for more canvasses.
Where do your ideas come from?
In principle, I feel inspired by anything, but most of the time by
travel experiences and books about history, spirituality, politics,
and maps. At eighteen I started discovering Europe. Mostly I
hitchhiked because I hardly had any money. Later on, other continents
became important to me, with stays in Latin America (Mexico, Peru, and
Surinam), the USA and especially East Asia.
What are the main influences on your poetry?
An early influence came from Hendrik Marsman (1896-1940), especially
his early and late poetry. Charles Baudelaire was another important
influence on me. I still admire the balance that he achieved between
strong emotions and strict forms. That tension can still excite me.
Since then I must have been influenced by thousands of poems. Over the
years I have written more than 1300 critical reviews on poetry and art
for newspapers and journals and for the National Library Service in
The Hague.
What would you say are the main themes of your poetry?
These are, inevitably, traveling, alienation, plural identity,
spirituality, war, and love, in brief: the whole range of emotions
experienced by mankind. Cultural diversity is not just a literary
orientation, it plays a daily role in my life, partly because I have
been teaching Dutch to newcomers for many years: ex-pats, political
refugees, technical specialists, brides and grooms and other
fortune-hunters like Brexit-escapers. And also partly because Siti, my
wife, is from Java. Together we translate Dutch poetry into the
Indonesian language. So, we constantly live in other cultures.
What are your thoughts on the art of translation?
Well, easy translations are rare. One of my aims is to introduce
poetry in The Netherlands and Flanders by authors that are still
unknown in these areas. But sometimes I try to come up with a new
version of a popular poem. I translate from English, French, and
German. Indonesian translations are always a joint adventure with
Siti. So far we have made over 200 translations of Dutch and Flemish
poems into Bahasa Indonesian. We intend to have the best texts
published in a bilingual anthology. We also translate work by
Indonesian poets such as Afrizal Malna. I’m convinced translations
must be done effect by effect, rather than word by word. Better than
the original text or worse, each translation (‘vertaling’ in Dutch)
must always remain a re-creation (‘hertaling’). Confronted with the
choice between closely following the original but ending up with a
moderate result or loosely following a poem but coming up with a
poetically strong version, I prefer the latter.
I notice that in your collection ‘Tropendrift’ each sequence comprises
three poems and each verse is set out in quatrains. Is form important
to you and, if so, why?
Yes, form is essential but it should never be used at the expense of
content! In the case of ‘Tropendrift’, I focused on the similarly
shaped reliefs of the Buddhist temple Borobodur, which plays a central
symbolic and spiritual role in the book. The poems are reliefs in
words. Hence the choice for a composition of respectively
3-6-9-12-9-6-3 poems (the stupa is in the middle of the book of course
since this temple is located in the middle of the central island of
Java), and three stanzas for each poem. Numbers represent symbols,
like in the holy books. Borobudur is a religious poem in stone. Last
but not least, form helps me to delete what is less important, dixit
Goethe. My other books are ‘dressed’ less strictly by the way.
Could you tell us something about your involvement in the Frozen Poets
Project?
In 2010, I realized I had taken dozens of photos of poets, especially
during travels, but had never done anything with them. Initiating a
blog gave me the possibility to bring these pictures together. Since
then I have been publishing pictures of 450 metal, marble, stone,
wooden and terracotta poets that are viewed each month by about 1000
people from all over the world. Most of the time I get curious, so I
read part of the works by the poets that I have met as a statue or
bust. The process has broadened my literary horizon. I hope your
readers will send me many pictures.
Music and art are both clearly important to you and you have
collaborated with musicians and artists on a number of occasions. Do
you find the act of collaboration rewarding enough?
It can be so inspiring to be exposed to the ideas of fellow artists,
whether they are translators, musicians, painters, film makers or
sculptors! I have worked with artists from all of these disciplines.
That made it possible for my poetry to be experienced in other
languages, other forms, and other colours. Each approach offers new
perspectives. I’m always as grateful as I am excited!
What have you published to date?
Two novels, six collections of poetry (some of which were also
published in other languages), two cd’s (one with Dutch composer Jan
Walraven, the other with American musician Dirk Stromberg), and other
titles including a literary guide. One book, ‘Linguisticum’, was
staged in Luxembourg in 1995 when it was designated as the Cultural
Capital of Europe. This ‘Gesamtkunstwerk’ was made possible by the
multi-talented Hubert Wellenstein. Six poems have been realized in the
public domain so far, on buildings and in parks. And I should mention
12 poetry videos on
www.alberthagenaars.nl
, You Tube and Vimeo. I believe that the best is yet to come.
Do you feel positive about the future of Dutch poetry?
Absolutely. From Hadewych, who lived in the 13th century, to
contemporary poets such as Ida Gerhardt and Hans Faverey, there have
always been fertile periods, full of renewal and variety, just as
there have been times that focus more on consolidation and
stabilisation. On the positive side, Dutch is the third biggest
Germanic language, after English and German, with almost 24 million
mother tongue speakers in The Netherlands and Belgium and there are
still millions of people for whom Dutch is a second language in other
parts of the world. So, Dutch poetry has in principle a reach which is
much larger than the limited surface of The Low Countries suggests.
Currently, there are hundreds of interesting poets many of whom are
excellent. Dutch poetry is increasingly translated and spread by more
media than ever before. What an unprecedented prospect! But I happen
to be a born optimist.
Neil Leadbeater is an author, poet, essayist and critic, born in
Wolverhampton, England and now based in Edinburgh. He was educated at
Repton and is an English graduate from the University of London. His
work has been published widely in anthologies and journals both in the
UK and abroad.
His publications include Hoarding Conkers at Hailes Abbey (Littoral
Press, 2010); Librettos for the Black Madonna (White Adder
Press, 2011); The Worcester Fragments (Original Plus, 2013);
The Loveliest Vein of Our Lives (Poetry Space, 2014) and The
Fragility of Moths (Bibliotheca Universalis, 2014). His latest
book is Finding the River Horse (Littoral Press, England, 2017).
An e-book, Grease-banding The Apple Trees is available as a PDF
from Raffaelli Editore, Rimini.
His work has been translated into Romanian, Spanish and Swedish.
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