perceptual processes.í^61 Paulinís poem ëThatís Ití plays with both
conceptual and perceptual processes. The poem begins with a scene
composed of light, line and clarity, yet the indefinable and ambivalent
quickly seeps into the poem as it opens with the word ëmaybeí:
Maybe because the lightís so marine clear
in this new room
ñ this unexpected studio
maybe thatís why the chest of drawers
placed in the dormer window
has to be stated like a proposition (p.104)
The ëstudioí or home of the artist is presented alongside a concern
with the pictorial and the poem is like a painting or photograph in
which the poetic speaker finds himself.^62 The scene is set with a ëman
lying on a mattressí regarding a ëchest of drawersí like ëa big bold
drawing/ that overpowers and oppresses himí. The chest of drawers
placed in front of light from a window would exist as a silhouette,
heavily outlined in black. The subject is objectified, sitting in the
space between reality and dream or in a situation where the objects
challenge the subjectís sense of self so that ëthe chest is neither one
thing nor the other/ for it belongs no more than he does.í The stripped
pine chest of drawers ëdipped in an acid bathí constitutes the
furnishings of a middle class home and compares with the
ëmiddleclassí ënovelí that ëtries to make a bit of a splashí (p.105). The
man dips into it like the novel yet feels unhomely within the proximity
of this ëprose garmentí or ësocial skiní.
In the second stanza the chest is transformed, losing any sense of
reality. In the mode of philosophy lecturer, the speaker asks:
ëñ supposing I treat that chest as a novel/ as a complete fiction?í
Comparably, Klee writes:
the artist must be forgiven if he regards the present state of outward
appearances in his own particular world as accidentally fixed in time and space.
61 Cf. Readís ëPrefaceí to Klee, On Modern Art, p.5.
62 The scene set within the poem is evocative of the ponderous mood of a
photograph of an ageing Klee seated in his studio, bathed in light. Cf. The
Diaries of Paul Klee, pp. 42ñ3.