Poetry filmmaker Charles Olsen is inviting international poetry filmmakers to help mark the 10th anniversary of a project he’s spearheaded called Given Words. As he explains in the CFW,
Given Words is a poetry competition run by me—artist, writer and poetry filmmaker Charles Olsen—for Aotearoa New Zealand’s National Poetry Day in August. Each year I present five words and poets (New Zealand citizens and residents, both adults and children) write poems including all five words. I have also been a judge of the Aotearoa Poetry Film Festival (2023) and the ekphrastic poetry film competition Frame to Frames: Your Eyes Follow (2022).
In the last three editions, the five words have been presented in ‘word videos’ made by students in Honduras, Spain, and Aotearoa New Zealand.
Here’s an example of a given words video from López de Arenas Secondary School, Marchena, Spain, used for the 2023 competition:
For the tenth edition of Given Words I would like to invite poetry filmmakers from around the word to collaborate by contributing very short—from 5- up to 20-second—’word films’, from which I will choose five to inspire the poets of the 10th edition of Given Words. My reason for asking established poetry filmmakers is I would like to use this platform to both demonstrate the possibilities of the audiovisual medium, and hopefully inspire experimentation, as well as young future poet-filmmakers.
In a way it is breaking down poetry film into its most basic element: how to convey a single word through moving image and sound. In selecting the five word films I will consider the poetic nature and originality of each piece, alongside the final combination of the five words.
What will you get out of this?
There are no prizes or laurels or festival screenings. If chosen, your word film will help to inspire around 250 poems by adults and children across Aotearoa New Zealand next National Poetry Day in August 2025. It is an opportunity to be part of this innovative project, and may also get you questioning the relationship between text, sound and image in your own work. You should also have fun!
I have run Given Words for nine years with prizes donated by New Zealand publishers, and a minimal seed fund towards judging fees. No fee is asked of participants, and many schools across Aotearoa New Zealand invite their students to take part. We will promote the results and the winner’s profiles on our social networks during the National Poetry Day celebrations.
Guidelines
- Make a film that presents one word in an original poetic way. The word must be present visually, or in audio, or both.
- Each film should be less than 20 seconds long.
- You can choose any word. We usually choose a mix of nouns, verbs and adjectives. Words in languages other than English will need to be accompanied by the English translation.
- You can submit as many word films as you like, although for the five words we will only choose one per filmmaker.
- You may submit clips of your previous work if it fits the guidelines.
- Please do not include credits or logos.
- Submission is free.
- By submitting you acknowledge that the work is yours, and that you have obtained permission(s) where required.
- Email your word film, preferably as .MOV or .MP4, to nzgivenwords@gmail.com by 28 February 2025.
- Include your full name, a brief bio (up to 80 words), links to your social media and website, and an English translation of the word where necessary.
- By submitting your work you allow us to crop and edit the work, and present the work online. We will include the credit of your work.
- Any questions can be addressed to Charles at nzgivenwords@gmail.com.
Click through to watch more videos from the project and check out the winning poems that these videos have inspired. It’s interesting to see videopoetry being used to spark further poems. That’s kind of as it should be, I think. Let’s end with the 2024 Given Words video:
Lina Ramona Vitkauskas is a Lithuanian-Canadian-American video poet from Chicago living in Toronto. Her website is linaramona.com. We’ve featured her videopoems often over the years. I interviewed Lina via email about her new project, HALLUCINATIONS.
Large language models (LLMs) as deployed by OpenAI, Google, Meta, IBM, and other corporations are straining our energy infrastructure, putting technical writers out of work, and sparking lawsuits over perceived infringements on intellectual property rights. To many of us, this seems like a boondoggle pushed by techno-utopian fanatics obsessed with their end-time fantasy of a Singularity. For a poet to go up against it seems quixotic, to say the least. Why engage with AI at all?
This is a fascinating question. Short answer: we are beyond choosing to not engage. The internet and social media began this way. People dismissed both as fads or flat-out refused to participate, therefore dismissing any opportunity to have a voice in how either would play a part in our lives. We allowed big tech to dictate to — and sell us (literally selling us) — these technologies, thus, both ubiquitously seeped into the fabric of daily life. Because of this, we were unable to gain any footing in the narrative (too little, too late).
Big picture: AI would not exist without humans / human intelligence. Humans created, raised, and fed it on our collective knowledge and ignorance. It seems most rational to me that poets are the sole group to claim the narrative regarding this technology (as comedians have with politics, using satire, for example). What better group than those who wield language and thought, bending both to our will in a format / form that can never be fully defined? In my view, poets (as well as visual artists and filmmakers) are the voice of humans in this space, because we continue to defy expectations and perhaps most fully represent the expanse and uniqueness of creativity. While our collective experiences are similar, our subjective ones still remain authentic to each of us. LLMs can only regurgitate what is currently available to ingest. We haven’t reached singularity nor does AI currently have the capacity to read dreams, the human mind, or individual thoughts. Poets are the gatekeepers of reminding humanity of our humanity. We speak many languages that are untranslatable by binary logic. We speak and write the human condition, what is simultaneously innate, collective, and separate. This is also a great opportunity to reclaim our space in this domain, as mentioned earlier. As Nam Jun Paik once said, “I use technology to hate it properly.”
So tell us how you set about creating your own answer to an LLM. What did that process look like? Who or what was your inspiration?
Two inspirations: co-founder of the Oulipo, Raymond Queneau, wrote A Hundred Thousand Million Poems, which consisted of ten sonnets that were then “sliced-up” to offer the reader an infinite number of new poems — contingent upon how one arranged the lines; and experimental filmmaker, Nam June Paik, who famously “uses technology to hate it properly”. It is also slightly reminiscent of the Surrealist Compliment Generator.
HALLUCINATIONS is human mimicry — and rebuke — of AI “hallucinations” (irony abounds as hallucinations are an intrinsically human experience, and for AI, an LLM in recursion is ultimately unable to emulate humans). It is simultaneously a book, a collective digital project, and video poems. I invite collaborators to send poems with the intention of adding to the LLM (Lina Language Model), ultimately fostering poetic community and exemplifying that humans still reign in poetic originality.
It began with three poems which spun up into 48 variations. The new poems / versions shape-shift and take different forms, as they would after being repeatedly fed through an LLM. Binary number titles are used to help democratize the content, helping readers focus more on the poems (less on titles) helping to build a more collaborative, collective unconscious mindset.
Exact Method:
Using one prompt in an LLM to engage in a “hallucinatory” brainstorm, I began generating original, new poems. The poems are each labeled by a binary number / code and leverage literary devices such as repetition and juxtaposition.
Poems became extensions of one another, as they are “unplugged” and “replugged” in randomly to create new poems (reminiscent of neural networks, fibre optics, 20th c. switchboard cords, etc.)
Italicized commentary throughout the poems echo the type of feedback language that some LLMs now ask of users — very similar to reviews or surveys online (i.e. “how did we do?”) I use these spaces to inhabit the voice of the LLM, attempting to emulate a “mechanical grief” (perhaps the desperate lament of machines longing to be human?)
What did you make of Google’s decision to name their LLM for video generation VideoPoet? It’s as if they’ve read the manifesto on your project’s website, and decided that, as you put it, “hallucinations are poetry”!
We can hardly call what they are showcasing on their capability reels poetry (PIXAR raccoons swimming and going to the Eiffel Tower, cute teddy bears playing drums, weird bear-owl hybrids on a branch roaring, or pastel paint blobs exploding, etc.)
For my video poems, I source archived and public domain footage (as well as free download stock) but I create my own pieces / footage from those foundations. I use filters, editing tools, even my own collage pieces (print and digital) to mix it up.
I think it is another great example of how technology can flatten creativity, but I’m sure it will progress beyond cartoon animals doing “funny” human stuff in a few years. I’m still hoping this type of banality goes away and they actually start using AI to help people and the environment (healthcare, climate change).
Has this project affected the way you approach or compose videopoetry, or poetry in general? I’m wondering whether, for example, it’s changed how you view authorship, or the relationship between the writer and the work…
I approach all of my video poetry projects differently, so this was actually borne out of conversations being had at my current day job (workplace) about protocols to integrate AI into our workflows.
I immediately became fascinated by the idea of hallucinations and recursion by reading more about it here: https://xn--wgiaa.ws/6-gunnar-de-winter-recursions-curse-when-ai-eats-ai-content
Humans can properly hallucinate, meaning there is even some value in when we cerebrally hit a wall. Friction is good for creativity. When a machine hits a wall, it becomes redundant (dual meaning). Or it can destroy everything. I guess one could argue that humans could do the same, but we also have decision-making ability and free will.
Poetically I think recursion is interesting if only for what creative iterations are generated.
The exercise of doing this particular project hasn’t changed the way that I would compose or create video poems, no. I think we are at an interesting inflection point in general, however: do we symbiotically incorporate this technology into everything we do, or, are we more selective as humans as to how we can help us?
I still think that there is much to be discussed publicly around the ethics and repercussions of using AI / LLMs in creative spaces. I personally think creatives should be vigilant and wary. Verify then trust. Play but don’t publish. It can help, but not fully take on creator roles. It’s a tool, not an entity.
The five videopoems you’ve shared online from the project so far certainly flow into one another, drawing on a common vocabulary of sounds and images, almost like stanzas in a larger poem. Is that how you think of them? I gather you’re working toward an anthology or collection. What form(s) do you anticipate that will take?
There are currently 48 poems in a limited edition chapbook (contact Gagnè Contemporary to purchase), all of them iterations of 1-3 original poems spun from one LLM prompt: “write a long form essay about how AI and creativity coexist”.
The next phase of this larger, collaborative project is up to you, the people, my fellow humans. Become part of the HALLUCINATION project by submitting your own poems to the Lina Language Model at hallucinations.me.
Folks in the Toronto area can check out a gallery showing of HALLUCINATIONS as part of a new show called Post Future Era at the Gagné Contemporary Gallery at 401 Richmond. The show features Vitkauskas, Kunel Gaur, and Justin Neeley. Otherwise, check out the videopoems on Vimeo.
At the end of last month in Ireland, poet and filmmaker Colm Scully curated the 3rd International Poetry Film Competition as part of Drumshanbo Written Word festival. Here’s his account. —Jane Glennie
Once again, this August, we gathered in Drumshanbo to screen our 18 shortlisted films. It was a miserable Friday evening and we could hear the driving rain cascade off the roof and hammer down the drain pipes of The Old Mayflower Ballroom, a thousand miles away from the baking sunshine, open doors, and coffee stand days of the two previous years. Still, the people came and Willie, along with his faithful dog, worked his technical magic, setting up screen and sound so we could cozy down to two hours of entertainment and prize giving.
This year we were chuffed to have 175 entries from 21 countries worldwide, with a huge sweep of talent present from established film makers and new names. As I said at my intro I could have easily chosen a totally different 18 and they would have been just as good. However in the spirit of eclecticism and inclusiveness I chose films from a myriad of styles and practices. The result, I think, was a selection where everyone in the crowd found something to enjoy.
We had humour and slapstick comedy from Australia’s Patrick Gamble with Bakers Son. We had black humour and collage animation from the US with Michael Mitchell’s Resume (an account of Dorothy Parkers famous poem about suicide). It was very gratifying to be able to show Finn Harvor’s excellent elegy of his late father, which contained humour and pathos in equal measure. People were very taken with the rhythms and musicality of Kenneth Karthik’s Punjabi Market from Canada. The subtle message about sexuality and how different communities and cultures adapt to a changing world really struck home. Barry Hollow’s Cap-cut created-struggles of life-piece was touching, and it was wonderful to hear the Scots of his childhood. I must say it reminded me very much of Burns with his ‘many a slip twixt cup and lip’. Eileen and her crew provided half time refreshments, wine and nibbles, then we returned to more great films.
At the end we introduced the poets/filmmakers who had travelled. Mary Guckian, from just over the road (the first lady of Leitrim Poetry) spoke of how Eamon De Burca adapted her poem Night Time, a tale of childhood memories. His two daughters starred and chose their own dresses. It was a realistic interpretation, but the subtle film work and touching reminiscences made it very satisfying.
Tara Luger and Julia Galley from Vienna and Freiburg traveled specially for the event. They made their film as part of an Erasmus module assignment while studying in Belgium. The narration was in Japanese and the narrative had us thinking all sorts of things until the final twist explained everything. Houseplants has to be watched to be appreciated. They regaled us later in the pub with stories of their Irish connections.
Csilla Toldy, a well known poetry film maker and lecturer, came south and explained to us the story of Jewish Lithuanian poetess Matilda Olkinaite (My Dear Idealist). Csilla’s use of refrain, overlay, historical images and aged modern footage created a haunting space in which to relay the poignant poetry of the victim of Nazism.
Anne MacDonald spoke emotionally of her own mother, who was the subject of the short animated piece, Crows’ Books. Animated by her niece (Kate Hanlon—away in Australia) it was very much a family affair.
Ceara Carney, actor and tour guide, came from Dublin. There were fewer environmentally driven films submitted this year, I hope that is not a symptom of climate change fatigue. Ceara’s film Residents of 49 represented the cause well, her spoken-word mastery energising with rhyme the beautifully filmed (on super 8) goings on of nature in her back garden.
There were other great films, such as Olaf Boqwist’s Pained Flowers/Printed Leaves from Germany, Jane Glennie and James Kenward’s Dark, Mersolis Shone’s Repeat from Austria, Andre Chiaradi’s My Son, Diek Grobler’s – I haven’t told my garden yet, Brent Walbilligs – Ad Hominem from Canada, a film of post imperial introspection.
But there had to be winners, and Eileen O’Toole, our Chairperson, awarded, in absentia, a lovely set of handmade Drumshanbo pottery to Marcella O’Connor from Kerry, for Best Irish Poetry Film. Her film, Night Drags, touched me. It was an interpretation of a poem by Aogán O’Rathaille (the Gaelic Bard of the 17th Century). I am forever intrigued by old Ireland and this piece, filmed so beautifully around the west coast, capturing rutting stags in Killarney and keening heard of seals on a Blasket beach, seemed to reach deep into the past to that time of desolation and dispossession. Also it was nice to have an Irish language poem in the set.
But our winner, this year for the first time from outside of Ireland, was Jim Haverkamp’s Blink Once. A film he made when paired with the fine American poet, Karin Gottshall as part of the Filmetry Project in Michigan. Jim gave us his acceptance speech via video, humouring us with his jibes about Jameson Whiskey while explaining how he made the film by combining the discovery of an old book about metal detecting with Karin’s poem of childhood memory. Many people asked me why I picked it. Put simply, it worked for me. It brought the magic out. The magic of the poem, the magic of the story. It’s all the little things that make it work. The old-style, low-definition camera work, the stark colours (blue, brown, white). The pacing and dramatic intent in the narrator’s voice. The lack of connection between the visual and the words, and yet paradoxically, the perfect symmetry between them. And of course the perfect words; words about gender, sexuality maybe, or just about dreaming and hope, longing. Whatever it was, it was beautiful.
Watch the full shortlisted programme: