Just recently there seems to have been something of a renaissance here in poetry - and in particular Maltese poetry. Do you agree and if so, why do you think this is?
In some ways there is a renewed interest but the product lacks consistency. It also lacks originality, because many themes are being recycled over and over again or keep covering ground charted by the new wave of poets who came after political independence. Moreover, almost all literary activity stays within the confines of a couple of groups and does not seem to have the urgency to communicate on a large scale, as used to happen in the 1960s.
One has to ask why poetry is not reaching out, why it is not drawing any attention to itself on the mass media, why it is largely restricted to compulsory reading for examination purposes. On the other hand, it is good that there is currently an interest in translating works and I would say that there should be created a proper apparatus, with proper state funding, towards such activity.
The real renaissance seems to be happening in prose, not in poetry: we even (recently) had the first explicitly anarchic novel written by a young journalist and a set of cutting-edge short stories by a young woman.
Do you think poets are born and not made?
There are many who believe that poets, like all true artists, possess talent that cannot be taught. Creative people are often subjected to speculation, including recent links psychologists have identified between creativity and sexual encounters. Still, many academic institutions around the Western world now offer structured courses in creative writing. There does seem to exist a certain attitude with poets and creative people, which with practice could develop and acquire accomplishment, but as John Stuart Mill would warn, there are hordes of poetasters who expect to reap without sowing.
When did you first start writing poetry?
I don't remember the exact moment or the exact period. In my late teens I started reading literary material which was considered dangerous and effectively banned by the Church, like Joyce's Ulysses, Wilde's subversive work or Dostoevsky's spiritual rebellion. I was introduced to those works underhandedly and had the audacity of trying to translate excerpts from them. They also provoked in me many qualms of conscience and seem to have given me the impulse to write.
Who have been your strongest influences when it comes to writing and poetry?
The authors I mentioned were influential in different ways, and in my 20s I was already reading voraciously. I became attracted to Apollinaire, who had reacted strongly to repressive traditions in outlook and style, as well as the experimental writing of poets like e.e.cummings, Olson, Corso and Ferlinghetti. They provided a strong focal point in my early attempts to produce projective verse.
I was also keen on the Confessionalists and the Beat Poets. Then of course there was T.S. Eliot who, I believe, was effectively helping to "stabilise" my excursions of unbridled energy. From Eliot I learned that poetry can be both topical and timeless in its multi-level implications.
But currently I am writing prose poems with a reactivated flair for the fantastic, the bizarre and the erotic. I also discovered my interest in writing what I call committed stories for young people.
The late Francis Ebejer once said that he preferred writing in English, because by doing so he could reach a wider audience. You have written in both English and Maltese. Which do you prefer and why?
I have never been a purist and I am convinced that contemporary themes in Maltese literature have to reflect the dynamics of contrasting identities and realities. Bilingualism represents a voice within a voice and in itself this is an intriguing connection involving not only register and structure but also an active intellect and feeling. Linguistic shifts and explorations enhance communication, something direly needed if our literary product is to make a significant break.
Can we learn a little more about you? When and where were you born, get your education etc...?
I was born in Hamrun in September 1944 and had my education at the Lyceum, the School of Art, the Teachers' Training College and the University of Malta. In my teens I was very active within the Catholic Action Movement and I think my communication skills, as well as my flair for journalism and the theatre, evolved from that period. For many years I taught art, literature and educational drama in state schools, formed part of the Policy Unit for Culture at the Ministry of Education, Culture and Youth and currently lecture in theatre on a part-time basis at the university, besides directing the Malta Drama Centre. I was also at the forefront of the literary radical movement of the 1960s.
In your view and briefly, what do you think is the main thing wrong with poetry and writing generally in Malta today? How would you set about correcting it?
I feel it is not authentic enough and it often conveys a sense of déjà vu. It is a poetry running short of truthful experiences. I need to heed the perils of sounding patronising, but I feel the younger poets should really hold a mirror to themselves and analyse whether they can move away from already-charted courses, whether their poetry is new enough in concept, theme, style and the interpretation of experience. They should ask themselves whether they are committed morally to society and whether they are prepared to disturb the rules when necessary. I fear there is too much complacency and that horizons are too limited.
I know you are a passionate advocate for the formation of a national drama company. Why and how would you go about forming and financing it?
To be precise, I always advocated a national drama formation, not a resident drama company, because the latter is a prospect which does not appear to be financially sustainable at present. But surely, the State ought to be able to support a national drama programme by way of commissioning the creation of new scripts and productions. Besides a local and international repertoire, such a programme should be able to go for those ventures which are ignored by commercial companies. For instance, it should involve schools and include the animation of texts. Because of its lack of theatre policy, Malta is missing out on the European scene: we have no representation at all at the European Theatre Convention, which involves 40 theatre companies from 37 European countries. So the deficit also has political tones.
As a writer and an acknowledged man of culture you don't seem to find a lot of room for lightness or humour in your work. Is there a reason for this?
It all depends on the context. I have written some biting satirical poetry and in the early '90s wrote and presented a devastatingly-hilarious show for a radio station, which had listeners on both sides of the political divide in stitches.
As somebody who has travelled extensively and experienced theatre, music and literature in many countries, where do you think we in Malta stand in the cultural league tables?
Our best bets are in lyrical opera and conceptual/installation art. In these areas we definitely have worthy ambassadors, but in other categories we go by fits and starts and generally fail to make the grade. Apart from the reputation we are developing as devisers and animators of sociodrama within the framework of EU programmes, our participation in international amateur theatre festivals is indeed rare, as is the case in other areas like dance.
We prefer to import cultural fare rather than export it, and this lack of proactivity condemns us to the role of passive cultural consumers. Then, the literary scenario requires a series of energising shots in the arm if Maltese writing is ever to gain proper recognition overseas: the acute dearth of translation and the customary handful of Maltese writers who are "selected" to attend literary events abroad are bad omens.
Five or 10 years down the line, what would Mario Azzopardi like to be doing?
I would have to slow down. Most of all I want to express my creative energy through writing, an activity that requires reflection, time, private ritual and composure. At present I'm on overdrive, mostly because of my drama commitments, and cannot manage enough the density of my thoughts in terms of literary production. I desperately need to listen to my internal voices, to my innermost rhythms and get on with my writing. There are thick layers of life experiences, which are still in wait to be exploited. And I'm not getting any younger.
In some ways there is a renewed interest but the product lacks consistency. It also lacks originality, because many themes are being recycled over and over again or keep covering ground charted by the new wave of poets who came after political independence. Moreover, almost all literary activity stays within the confines of a couple of groups and does not seem to have the urgency to communicate on a large scale, as used to happen in the 1960s.
One has to ask why poetry is not reaching out, why it is not drawing any attention to itself on the mass media, why it is largely restricted to compulsory reading for examination purposes. On the other hand, it is good that there is currently an interest in translating works and I would say that there should be created a proper apparatus, with proper state funding, towards such activity.
The real renaissance seems to be happening in prose, not in poetry: we even (recently) had the first explicitly anarchic novel written by a young journalist and a set of cutting-edge short stories by a young woman.
Do you think poets are born and not made?
There are many who believe that poets, like all true artists, possess talent that cannot be taught. Creative people are often subjected to speculation, including recent links psychologists have identified between creativity and sexual encounters. Still, many academic institutions around the Western world now offer structured courses in creative writing. There does seem to exist a certain attitude with poets and creative people, which with practice could develop and acquire accomplishment, but as John Stuart Mill would warn, there are hordes of poetasters who expect to reap without sowing.
When did you first start writing poetry?
I don't remember the exact moment or the exact period. In my late teens I started reading literary material which was considered dangerous and effectively banned by the Church, like Joyce's Ulysses, Wilde's subversive work or Dostoevsky's spiritual rebellion. I was introduced to those works underhandedly and had the audacity of trying to translate excerpts from them. They also provoked in me many qualms of conscience and seem to have given me the impulse to write.
Who have been your strongest influences when it comes to writing and poetry?
The authors I mentioned were influential in different ways, and in my 20s I was already reading voraciously. I became attracted to Apollinaire, who had reacted strongly to repressive traditions in outlook and style, as well as the experimental writing of poets like e.e.cummings, Olson, Corso and Ferlinghetti. They provided a strong focal point in my early attempts to produce projective verse.
I was also keen on the Confessionalists and the Beat Poets. Then of course there was T.S. Eliot who, I believe, was effectively helping to "stabilise" my excursions of unbridled energy. From Eliot I learned that poetry can be both topical and timeless in its multi-level implications.
But currently I am writing prose poems with a reactivated flair for the fantastic, the bizarre and the erotic. I also discovered my interest in writing what I call committed stories for young people.
The late Francis Ebejer once said that he preferred writing in English, because by doing so he could reach a wider audience. You have written in both English and Maltese. Which do you prefer and why?
I have never been a purist and I am convinced that contemporary themes in Maltese literature have to reflect the dynamics of contrasting identities and realities. Bilingualism represents a voice within a voice and in itself this is an intriguing connection involving not only register and structure but also an active intellect and feeling. Linguistic shifts and explorations enhance communication, something direly needed if our literary product is to make a significant break.
Can we learn a little more about you? When and where were you born, get your education etc...?
I was born in Hamrun in September 1944 and had my education at the Lyceum, the School of Art, the Teachers' Training College and the University of Malta. In my teens I was very active within the Catholic Action Movement and I think my communication skills, as well as my flair for journalism and the theatre, evolved from that period. For many years I taught art, literature and educational drama in state schools, formed part of the Policy Unit for Culture at the Ministry of Education, Culture and Youth and currently lecture in theatre on a part-time basis at the university, besides directing the Malta Drama Centre. I was also at the forefront of the literary radical movement of the 1960s.
In your view and briefly, what do you think is the main thing wrong with poetry and writing generally in Malta today? How would you set about correcting it?
I feel it is not authentic enough and it often conveys a sense of déjà vu. It is a poetry running short of truthful experiences. I need to heed the perils of sounding patronising, but I feel the younger poets should really hold a mirror to themselves and analyse whether they can move away from already-charted courses, whether their poetry is new enough in concept, theme, style and the interpretation of experience. They should ask themselves whether they are committed morally to society and whether they are prepared to disturb the rules when necessary. I fear there is too much complacency and that horizons are too limited.
I know you are a passionate advocate for the formation of a national drama company. Why and how would you go about forming and financing it?
To be precise, I always advocated a national drama formation, not a resident drama company, because the latter is a prospect which does not appear to be financially sustainable at present. But surely, the State ought to be able to support a national drama programme by way of commissioning the creation of new scripts and productions. Besides a local and international repertoire, such a programme should be able to go for those ventures which are ignored by commercial companies. For instance, it should involve schools and include the animation of texts. Because of its lack of theatre policy, Malta is missing out on the European scene: we have no representation at all at the European Theatre Convention, which involves 40 theatre companies from 37 European countries. So the deficit also has political tones.
As a writer and an acknowledged man of culture you don't seem to find a lot of room for lightness or humour in your work. Is there a reason for this?
It all depends on the context. I have written some biting satirical poetry and in the early '90s wrote and presented a devastatingly-hilarious show for a radio station, which had listeners on both sides of the political divide in stitches.
As somebody who has travelled extensively and experienced theatre, music and literature in many countries, where do you think we in Malta stand in the cultural league tables?
Our best bets are in lyrical opera and conceptual/installation art. In these areas we definitely have worthy ambassadors, but in other categories we go by fits and starts and generally fail to make the grade. Apart from the reputation we are developing as devisers and animators of sociodrama within the framework of EU programmes, our participation in international amateur theatre festivals is indeed rare, as is the case in other areas like dance.
We prefer to import cultural fare rather than export it, and this lack of proactivity condemns us to the role of passive cultural consumers. Then, the literary scenario requires a series of energising shots in the arm if Maltese writing is ever to gain proper recognition overseas: the acute dearth of translation and the customary handful of Maltese writers who are "selected" to attend literary events abroad are bad omens.
Five or 10 years down the line, what would Mario Azzopardi like to be doing?
I would have to slow down. Most of all I want to express my creative energy through writing, an activity that requires reflection, time, private ritual and composure. At present I'm on overdrive, mostly because of my drama commitments, and cannot manage enough the density of my thoughts in terms of literary production. I desperately need to listen to my internal voices, to my innermost rhythms and get on with my writing. There are thick layers of life experiences, which are still in wait to be exploited. And I'm not getting any younger.