Reading with CeeJay in L'Etiquette, Paris 2017.
In Memoriam
CeeJay -
Jean -Claude Crommelynck ( 1946 -2020)
A Personal Reminiscence
I read with some degree of
shock about the news of the passing of the Belgian poet and rapper CeeJay,
born Jean-Claude Crommelynck, last night. Although I had not met or spoken to him
since our last encounter together in Paris in November, 2017, I had recently
been brought into his orbit again due to the publication of the anthology Rimbaud
et Moi ( Editions du Pont de l’Europe, 2020) in which we both had some
poems published. This was fitting, as nineteenth century French poets such as
Arthur Rimbaud are what brought us together back in 2015.
I had been invited by the poet
and editor Walter Ruhlmann to co-edit an issue of his now sadly defunct printed
magazine mgversion 2>datura. Through Walter and his independent publishing
house mgv2>publishing which was publishing some of my early books at
the time, I was coming into contact with a number of contemporary poets and
writers writing in French and CeeJay was among them. I had been very
impressed by his first collection Bombe voyage, bombe voyage ( maelström,
Bruxelles, 2014 ). So much so that I invited the Belgian rapper poet to
contribute some of his poems to the Transverser issue I was editing in which I hoped to
showcase some contemporary writers writing in French, and who were not just
living in France.
CeeJay was delighted, and quickly gave me carte blanche to
transverse any of the poems I liked. This is something that I will always remember
about him, he had an instinctive trust in my transversions of his poems, as he
knew that to translate his work literally, as some writers and translators might
do, would not render the spirit of his work nor the idiom. This is the essence
of my relationship with him, that of two poets who had a deep deep love and appreciation
of 19th century French poets, such as Baudelaire, and the importance
of giving artistic freedom or license to other writers who wished to do
translation. CeeJay knew as a poet himself that all writing, to some
degree, is merely translation of sorts, in the end!
When my collection of
transversions The Enemy – Transversions from Charles Baudelaire (
Lapwing) came out in the summer of 2015, I was quite sick at the time and so
only felt safe doing a small reading down in my local pub here in Skerries in
North County Dublin. I am reminded now of a small group of around twenty
sitting in the front room of The Gladstone Inn. Poets Michael J. Whelan and
Christine Murray were there, along with CeeJay who had actually travelled
across from Belgium to be with us. I was of course very touched by his decision
to come over and join us. The publication of mgV2-81 Transverser had
pleased him very much, it was the first time that he had graced the cover of a
literary magazine, and he wanted to show his appreciation by supporting my
latest book. CeeJay was a huge fan of Baudelaire of course.
He was a larger than life
figure, and I will always remember meeting him at the airport dressed as he was
in all of his multi-coloured splendour. CeeJay was an openly gay man and
had been all his life. This couldn’t have been easy for him, his native Belgium
is a profoundly Catholic country and I know he must have suffered terribly as an
openly gay man. He spoke to me a lot about his first trip to the USA that night
when we arrived in Skerries. I had booked him into the local B&B and we
both spent a very pleasant few hours that night over a six pack of Chimay
talking about various writers and poets that we liked. It is my fondest memory
of him, talking into the wee hours over a few smokes and a few beers. The way
poets and writers have always spoken to one another, I suppose.
We were very different people,
CeeJay and I. He was the marginal poet and artist, eternally an exile.
He spent a lot of his time outside of Europe in North Africa, for example, like
so many men of his generation. Sometimes living in pretty extreme conditions,
as he told me that night. Of course, CeeJay saw himself following a very
specific literary tradition a la Rimbaud et Verlaine. He loved both poets
dearly, and Baudelaire, and was rather ashamed of how they all had been treated
in his native country. CeeJay then as the eternal outsider. I was a
family man, my bohemian days long since over. He must have found me quite tame
in comparison.
The next day, he joined me in
The Gladstone and he read some of his poems from mgv2-81 Transverser –
he was the very first poet that I invited to kick off The Gladstone Readings
which would draw poets from all around the country to come up to Skerries to
sit with me for a few hours in an old fisherman pub in Skerries to read and talk
about poetry. He was his typical self, that day. Larger than life. He stood in
the middle of the small seaside pub declaiming verses by himself in French and
of course by Baudelaire. Imagine Gerard Depardieu, a little. He had a very
large presence. He was full of joie de vivre that day, and I had a great
time reading my transversions of his work to the assemble gathered. They were
all clearly having a laugh too.
Ah yes, it was a good day. One
of my fondest memories, to be honest of all The Gladstone Readings. Well, Famous
Seamus, my publisher at the time, did a beautiful job on the anthology The
Gladstone Readings (2017) and which we published some years later. CeeJay’s
poems in French and my English transversions also appear. The book is out
of print now but if you are interested have a look on Amazon and you may find
some second-hand editions going to spare.
The next time, and last, I met
CeeJay was in Paris. Again, through my publisher at the time Famous
Seamus who were bringing out my Dublin Trilogy as part of a commemorative
reading again for Baudelaire. It was 150 years since the poet died in 1867, and
we both wanted to mark the occasion with a reading in Paris. It was to be another
fateful day as it was also the day that I got to meet Yan Kouton for the very
first time. Yan was to go on and translate Henry Street Arcade which is
due out in the spring next year.
CeeJay read alongside myself ( pictured above with CeeJay on
the day) Christophe Bregaint, Yan Kouton and the Beckettian actor extraordinaire
Conor Lovett, my old school-hood friend. Little did I know that it would be the
last time that I would see him. I was with my son Liam who had organised the
whole event which took place in a wonderful cave au vin behind Notre Dame. It
was a really special occasion, just some poets and Baudelaire enthusiasts and
perhaps the odd tourist congregating in the old cave.
He read with gusto, I
remember, on the day. But, then, that was so typical of him.
Sommets
Avec la volonté de ma maîtriser.
L’âme dans de gants de chamois.
Dans l’anfractuosité du roc je me love, je me délove.
Par moments là- bas sur la crête,
Alors que je deviens trés calme et silencieux,
Je peux entendre le crquement de la pierre.
Temps qui n’ai ni commencement ni fin.
Présent parallel qui emplit les espaces vides.
Les dimensions fluctuant impercetiblement.
Pétrifié mon corps cesse d’exister.
Au creux profonde du cervelet
Seule la commande d’immobilité persiste.
Mon cerveau, chaudron où bouillone le trouble
Jette l’anathème du bruit nu pour l’oeil et l’âme.
La tempête s’approche à toute Vitesse, il n’y a pas d’abris.
L’aigle passe et repasse à la recherche d’une proie.
Summiths
A soul in kid gloves,
With the will to control myself,
In the crevice of the rock I fall in and out of love.
At times down on the ridge,
When I become calm and silent,
I can hear the gentle pulverisation of stone.
Here, time has no beginning nor end.
The present parallel fills the empty spaces
Whose dimensions fluctuate almost imperceptibly.
Petrified, my body ceases to exist.
Only in the most profound hollow of the cerebellum
The sole command of immobility persists.
My brain, that cauldron where all trouble boils,
Spurts anathema of raw sound for the soul’s eye.
The tempest approaches rapidly, there is no refuge.
Time ticks away in search of prey.
( The poem Sommets by CeeJay first
appeared in Bombe voyage, bombe voyage
Published by his publisher in Bruxelles, maelstrom 2014.
It also appeared with my transversion into English in both mgv2>81 Transverser
2015, and The Gladstone Redaings Anthology, Famous Seamus, 2017.
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