The indie filmmaker was one of many notable speakers at Kenneth Koch at 100: A Celebration, held last month at The New School’s Auditorium in Greenwich Village. Kenneth Koch, who died in 2002, was a leading member of a loosely grouped circle of poets of the 1950s and ’60s that included Frank O’Hara and John Ashbury. Revered for his gifts as a teacher of writing, Koch was Jarmusch’s instructor at Columbia College.
He was “a kind of godfather to me, aesthetically,” Jarmusch said, noting further that the “so-called New York School of poets “in general remain as my godparents in almost anything I create.”
Others speakers at the centenary tribute were the artists Jim Dine and Alex Katz, Koch’s longtime agent (and former editor of The Paris Review) Maxine Groffsky, the essayist Phillip Lopate, the critic Lucy Sante, and the poets Charles North, Tony Towle, John Keene, Jeffrey Harrison, and Ron Padgett. The poet and editor Jordan Davis hosted the event. Robert Polito, of The New School, gave a general introduction.
Among the more interesting tributes, I thought, were Groffsky’s for its lengthy history and, via video, Katz’s for its directness. I found Jarmusch’s the most amusing. This is what he said:
“When I think of Kenneth, I often think of this quote of Oscar Wilde, who said ‘Life is far too important to be taken seriously.’ Kenneth was very playful. He taught us a lot about structures and the importance of games, and being playful with structures. He taught us about the importance of games in the way they can create things. He was also very serious and kind of difficult sometimes. He didn’t suffer bad poetry.
“I had a conference with Kenneth in his office at Columbia, a relatively small office containing a desk two chairs and two doors of the same dimensions, one of which was the entrance door to the office and the other to a closet. I was talking with Kenneth seriously about what we were studying etcetera for maybe 15 minutes, at which point he paused and said, ‘Excuse me one moment.’
“He got up and opened the closet door. Exiting from the closet was a very tall, striking, beautiful woman, maybe a Barnard co-ed or a graduate student. I still remember she had on a very soft cashmere cardigan, a pleated skirt, knee socks, and loafers. She was very beautiful. He just opened that door, she exited. He opened the other door. She exited. He closed both doors and sat back down. Nothing was mentioned. It was very interesting.’
“Kenneth once gave me a poem by Rilke, and he said, ‘Now I would like you in the next two days, to bring me back a very beautiful translation of this poem. However, you can consult no dictionary.’ I said, ‘Great, but Kenneth I speak absolutely no German.’ And he said, ‘Precisely.’”
