John Ashbery | |
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Born | John Lawrence Ashbery July 28, 1927 Rochester, New York, U.S. |
Died | September 3, 2017 Hudson, New York, U.S. | (aged 90)
Occupation | Poet, professor, and art critic |
Education | Harvard University (BA) New York University Columbia University (MA) |
Period | 1949–2017 |
Literary movement | Surrealism, The New York School, Postmodernism |
Notable works | Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror |
Notable awards | MacArthur Fellowship, Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, National Book Award, National Book Critics Circle Award, Guggenheim Fellowship |
Spouse | David Kermani |
Signature | |
John Lawrence Ashbery[1] (July 28, 1927 – September 3, 2017) was an American poet and art critic.[2]
Ashbery is considered the most influential American poet of his time. Oxford University literary critic John Bayley wrote that Ashbery "sounded, in poetry, the standard tones of the age."[3] Langdon Hammer, chair of the English Department at Yale University, wrote in 2008, "No figure looms so large in American poetry over the past 50 years as John Ashbery" and "No American poet has had a larger, more diverse vocabulary, not Whitman, not Pound."[4] Stephanie Burt, a poet and Harvard professor of English, has compared Ashbery to T. S. Eliot, calling Ashbery "the last figure whom half the English-language poets alive thought a great model, and the other half thought incomprehensible".[5]
Ashbery published more than 20 volumes of poetry. Among other awards, he received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, National Book Award, National Book Critics Circle Award for his collection Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror (1975).[6] In 2007, he became the first living poet to be anthologized by the Library of America. Renowned for its postmodern complexity and opacity, his work still proves controversial. Ashbery said he wished his work to be accessible to as many people as possible, not a private dialogue with himself.[2][7] He also joked that some critics still view him as "a harebrained, homegrown surrealist whose poetry defies even the rules and logic of Surrealism."[8] He reflected: "I’m not very good at explaining my work... I'm unable to do so because I feel that my poetry is the explanation. The explanation of what? Of my thought, whatever that is. As I see it, my thought is both poetry and the attempt to explain that poetry; the two cannot be disentangled."[9]