Word Order: Concrete Poetry & Its Influence
Until October 21; The Changing Room, Stirling

The best concrete poetry gives words such physical presence that they are somehow extra true. Before you even read the words, you can see what they are telling you. Or there is another approach: instead of conflating the twin processes of seeing and reading, the two are sometimes blown right apart. Either way, you become acutely aware of the processes of understanding going on in your mind.

The worst concrete poetry, on the other hand, can be nothing more than an overblown pun.

Scotland, fortunately, did it best, with Ian Hamilton Finlay and Edwin Morgan at the forefront of the international movement of the 1960s and 1970s. With such a distinguished history, it’s about time we had a major retrospective, but Word Order doesn’t fit the bill. Shying away from a proper survey, the touring exhibition from Peacock Visual Arts leads with four contemporary concrete poets, relegating a small selection of archive material to the wings.

The curator is Thomas A Clark, one of the four artists featured. His words cleverly describe themselves in terms which solidify them into something more concrete. SIX ORANGE SYLLABLES, says a card in the window, and FIVE BLUE SYLLABLES says another. Meaning and form have been made inextricable. Can a syllable have a colour? These do, as language becomes tangible.

Julie Johnstone’s prints are like yoga in a frame. They, and her magazines and artist’s books, are made with an almost unbearable lightness of touch. David Bellingham’s face/skull poses an interesting test of perception, where the meaning of the words seems to affect the image we perceive.

Alec Finlay’s visually striking plays on words take us back to where it all began, with his late father, Ian Hamilton Finlay. And that just serves to remind us what we’re missing: a good history of concrete poetry.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 24.09.06