Robert Graves said, “If there's no money in poetry, neither is there poetry in money.” Prove this. Or prove it false.
The simplest argument against Graves’ statement can be summed up with the phrase, “Correlation is not causation.” In other words, no money in poetry does not necessarily mean that poetry cannot exist in money. Taken literally, if a poet writes well without payment, and, further, avoids associating himself with money under the belief that it inhibits his artistic vision, there is still no evidence that poetry cannot be inspired by money. After all, money is both the decider of class and a potential push factor in poetic movements; it is impossible to describe life without taking into account the most important factor that shapes its quality, and it is hard to ignore the moneyed moguls that encouraged the existence of several poetry movements (Amy Lowell, a heiress that financially backed the imagist movement, is an example).
To further this argument, there are plenty of situations where the existence of poetry was spurred by money, or lack of it. American poetry is especially susceptible, considering its country of origin has a long capitalist history that, in theory, encourages individuals to rise above their class. Walt Whitman celebrates the diversity of class in the US in “Song of myself,” when he writes of canal boys and conductors, cattle-prodders in Missouri and connoisseurs ‘peering’ at art galleries. He does not hesitate to place the jobs of president and prostitute next to each other, cognizant that money was intricately involved in the former’s ascent and the latter’s descent in society. Even today, American poetry still explores the importance of money in our lives – Alexander Hamilton, the popular Broadway musical, has a constant theme of “rising up” [“As a kid in the Caribbean, I wished for a war, I knew that I was poor, I knew that it was the only way to rise up”], Kendrick Lamar’s “Humble” touches on his climb out of poverty [“I remember syrup sandwiches and crime allowances … now I’m countin’ this Parmesan where my accountant lives”], and Migos’ Bad and Boujee starts off with “You know so we ain’t really never had no old money, We got a whole lotta new money though.” Having money may not be important for the poet to create, but it shapes their world view and later can define their success.
Additionally, throughout history, poetry movements were often initiated or popularized with the help of rich backers. As mentioned earlier, cash from Amy Lowell helped promote the work of the Imagist poets, changing the culture of the movement (it became more democratic) and getting them published more often. The Beat poets got their start at Columbia University, which, in the 1940s, was overwhelmingly for people from families with money (Berlowitz 1993). Poets from the medieval ages to the Age of Enlightenment depended on the aristocratic class for their livelihood: after all, the rich were the small portion of the population that were educated enough to appreciate their art. Of course, there are many cases where poetry movements started in universities, or poet-populated neighborhoods, places that probably were not overflowing with money. However, that just proves the inaccuracy of Graves’ statement: yes, no money in poetry can still lead to its creation, but the existence of money has never inhibited poetry.
-Ana
Source:
Beard, Rick, and Leslie Berlowitz. 1993. Greenwich Village: Culture and Counterculture. New Brunswick, N.J. Published for the Museum of the City of New York by Rutgers University Press. 167.
