Doublethink
Thought is made manifest in the mark as a trace
but let me tell you about the trouble with traces
I rummage through life’s leftover marks
Traces from a previous exhibition
Text left on a wall,
plinths not yet been removed,
drawings now dumped in a corner as rubbish
I am for a poetry of embodied debris,
left in the aftermath
Speaking bodies caught
between memory and everyday life,
between private, public and pop-cultural history,
between present and absent
whilst recognising the crossfire of staying
in the comfort blanket of past violence
and possible future self-liberation
She left behind many scrapbook albums in her passing
Scrapbooks full of seaside postcards
of Britain making do with the beaches that we have
Postcard snapshots of a less cosmopolitan England,
Englishness and a nostalgia for an England
that may or may not have existed
but did at least in my mother’s mind
1990s pop music mixtapes and Chelsea football matches
I recorded off the radio onto cassette
Drawings I made by hand
in the late Eighties of a young Rupert Everett starring as
hunky schoolboy in Another Country (1984)
Embodied in every pencil mark:
desire, discomfort, emancipation, shame
Those drawn marks - traces of elegy indexical of
the person I once was,
the person I am proud I left behind,
and the person I wish I never had to be
Collapsing and combusting past and present,
these portals help connect us with the now gone
Conduits to access the absent, welcome or not
Mum’s memory objects, hidden from sight,
dormant in boxes for years,
prompted my own sea change in archive fever
Reanimate the archive
Use your own archive of the past
as calls for action in the present
Make traces and memory objects come alive again
Ventriloquist objects surviving fine without operator
I love rewinding my old mixtape cassettes
by hand with pencils through their eyes,
conjuring memories and traces in my mind
of people, places and things
with every turn
Each turn though, a doublethink,
sweet as first kiss
painful as first heartbreak
Traces become invitations
to be there again
in the here and now,
to feel exactly what it was like
to be in that place at that time
The moment is live
Will this invitation be one you accept?
Rolph David
Sun 12th Jan 2025 13:10
Lee, your poem "Doublethink" is a profound meditation on memory, the traces left behind, and the complex relationships we have with the past. You bring to life the idea that traces—whether physical objects, snapshots, or sounds—are not just remnants of what has been, but powerful forces that shape how we experience the present. The way you speak of rummaging through these remnants, these "embodied debris," feels like a form of re-engagement with both personal and collective histories. You invite us to consider how memory is not static, but alive, constantly reshaping itself in our minds, intertwined with nostalgia, loss, and the longing to return to—or escape from—what once was.
Your references to mixtapes, postcards, and personal drawings are not just nostalgic, but deeply layered with emotion, offering windows into the self you were and the self you’ve become. The concept of "doublethink" beautifully captures the tension of revisiting these traces: they are sweet and painful, comforting and uncomfortable, as they force us to confront who we were and who we are now. I love the way you describe these traces as "invitations"—inviting us to be present in those moments again, but also challenging us to make sense of them in the now.
You’ve captured the essence of how we live between these two worlds: the one we’ve left behind and the one we’re still navigating. It’s a moving exploration of memory, identity, and the layers of time we carry with us. The archive, as you put it, becomes something alive, a place where past and present are in constant dialogue. Your poem gives those traces weight and power, asking us whether we’re ready to accept their invitation and engage with them once more. I hope I am correct in my interpretation and analysis. If not, please forgive my mental ‘encroachment’.
Great work!
Regards,
Rolph