by Ian Hatcher
|Poor Claudia, 2016
Reviewed by Heather McAdams
In The Question Concerning Technology German philosopher Martin Heidegger explains that technology is a framework through which man can access a higher plane of truth and understanding. However, the creation of this framework inherently conceals truth in its attempt to provide a comprehensible platform. It’s a paradoxical relationship, and Heidegger argues that only an artist or poet will be able to navigate the disorientating relationship between man and machine. Ian Hatcher’s 2016 collection of poetry entitled Prosthesis is perhaps the best answer yet to Heidegger’s Question.
A binary in and of itself, the word prosthesis has two distinct uses. First, a prosthesis is a device, whether external or implanted, that supplements or supplants another part. Second, prosthesis is the attachment of a sound or syllable to the beginning of a word or verse, often seen as a result of translation. Hatcher draws on both definitions of the word, breaking away from any traditional, or perhaps programmed, form of poetry. Studded with computer code and Boolean symbols, Prosthesis verges on falling into the multilingual category and functions itself as a hybrid of man and machine.
The text covers an array of topics relating to the interdependence of humanity and technology—from the breakdown of individuality in this copy and paste culture to the binary quality of our true/false society. Hatcher is smart and mindful with his word choice, delivering sharp lines, like “how i i sees itself seeing itself in time” and “time is only measurable in instants of structural interruption.”
The image of the mirror crops up more than once. In the case of the following passage, Hatcher uses the mirror to reflect on self-image, the battle between self and image, and the inevitable breakdown of one at the expense the other:
folding (another) / into (another) / yourself (another) / with that (another) / self in (another) / breathing (another) / it’s not (another) / me it’s (another) / this that (another) / holds me (another) / mirror (another) / me that (another) / i put (another) / in me (another) / u are (anothe) / nothing (anoth) / u are (anot) / just an (ano) / image (an) / deferred (a) / waking () / to find / this just / ticking / down time / steady / from this / til when / we’re no / longer / ticking / down time / into / fusion / into / numbers / what more / than this / could be / going / on
As in this segment Hatcher often uses the repetition of sound throughout his poetry, perhaps to mimic a mechanical feedback echo or maybe the fading beat of a human heart.
One of Hatcher’s most memorable pieces is an observation on the absurd interdependence of our world. His poem “Attachments” spans over three pages with strange associations:
LONELINESS ATTACHED TO MONSTERS ATTACHED TO ALZHEIMER’S ATTACHED TO ARE U THERE ATTACHED TO THE GREAT CORAL REEF ATTACHED TO ALMOST ATTACHED TO ZZZ ATTACHED TO THIS.FIND(\”*\”) ATTACHED TO WIKIPEDIA ATTACHED TO WIRELESS SIGNALS ATTACHED TO MEMORY
Like most everything else in Prosthesis, these attachments could refer to something intensely human, such as an erratic thought process as synapses fire spastically across the brain, or something intensely machine like a search engine’s browsing history.
With an infinite number of messages to decode within the pages of Prosthesis, New York-based text / sound / code artist Ian Hatcher challenges readers to open their minds to a new era of poetry.