CHILDREN OF AN EXPRESSIVE GOD

Preview by Karl Young

The Roman alphabet you're now reading evolved over a period of some
four thousand years. Though it began as a form of picture writing, its 
main line of development has been toward phonetic notation, eliminating all 
pictorial content and intrinsic significance. The result is a set of flexible 
symbols, capable of recording any sequence of words simply, clearly,
transparently. It can be seen as one of humanity's greatest marvels.

That is , if you can hear and hence understand its phonetic
base. If you can't hear, it may seem diabolical: a system of
communication that presupposes intuitive knowledge of a
dimension of reality completely outside your experience, one
that might just as well depend on your ability to perceive X-ray
frequencies. Though deaf people can master this seemingly arbitrary set 
of symbols it remains a foreign language and reading is not the same sensible 
activity it is for those who can hear.

Given the absence of sound and the foreignness of alphabetic writing, it might 
seem that poetry is an area of experience from which the deaf are excluded. 
As a matter of fact, ASL (American Sign Language) does not as yet include a
sign meaning "poetry."

But poetry is more than linguistic frameworks, and there
are deaf poets. Some have reached out toward a hearing audience.
A good example of this is The Flying Words Project, made up of
deaf poet Peter Cook and his speaking partner Kenny Lerner. They
will be performing at Woodland Pattern on Saturday, April 1, at 8 p.m. 

The center of Cook's poetry is ASL, a means of communication 
through hand gestures. This flows into a larger mode of expression, 
including gestures that employ the whole body, facial
 expressions, and mime. Cook has adapted techniques
from the movies into his poetry, including close-ups, angled
shots, zooms, and panning shots. Anyone who has seen a skilled
signer communicate knows how graceful and expressive these
gestures can be. Add to this the skills in other forms of nonverbal 
communication, and it's not hard to see how deaf poetry can be beautiful, 
and not completely alien to those who don't understand ASL. It is an intensely 
physical art, and hence demands empathy. 
 
Cook's work ranges from the comic to the deadly serious. He
presents clear, high-impact images, sometimes in surrealistic
sequence. The audience may find itself riding in a Space Shuttle
along with Cook, exploring several new worlds at once; or Cook
can lead them apprehensively through a booby trapped tunnel in
Viet Nam. What's it like to be trapped inside a bottle of beer?
Cook has a rendition of that experience.

Kenny Lerner translates Cook's signs into spoken English enhanced by a wide 
range of mimetic and abstract sounds. He originated the minimalistic approach 
to vocalization which has greatly influenced deaf performing arts and aided the
interaction of deaf poets and hearing audiences. Lerner and Cook have been 
working together for four years, chalking up a fair share of awards and 
generating interest in deaf poetry and theater.

In the days of Imperial Rome, poetry readings were popular -- and poets were 
well aware of the need for physical gesture in poetry. It was common for 
poets with poor declaiming voices to hire orators to do the actual reading. 
But it was absolutely necessary for the poet to stand next to the speaker
and supply the appropriate gestures. Maybe those of us who hear have lost 
something since that time. If we look for what is essential in poetry outside 
of sound, we can see rhythm, balance, and surprise as basic elements. These 
can be achieved without sound. Cook can even approximate some of the 
traditional repertoire of spoken poetry. A series of parallel rhythms can
suggest lines, and Cook often employs handshape rhymes. 

But more important is communication of basic human feelings. Cook and Lerner 
may appeal particularly to people for whom the words of contemporary poetry 
get in the way. Lerner entered the field of deaf education in 1980 after 
seeing a production of "Children of a Lesser God." His inspiration came
from both the human drama of the play and the beauty and expressiveness of 
signing. The movie version of that play ends with the line "do you think we 
can find a place where we can meet -- not in silence . . . and not in 
sound . . ." Perhaps Cook and Lerner are in the process of finding a collective 
door to such a place.

