Friday, July 26, 2019

Poem by Gregory Luce

Trigger warning:  Institutionalized abuse

Not Again

Don’t shock me again
I’ll smile and eat
the rubber meat
covered in
congealing red
sauce I’ll put on
a clean shirt
if someone brings me
one just don’t turn on
that machine and put
the needle away
Biography:  Gregory Luce, author of Signs of Small Grace (Pudding House Publications), Drinking Weather (Finishing Line Press), Memory and Desire (Sweatshoppe Publications), and Tile (Finishing Line Press), has published widely in print and online. He is the 2014 Larry Neal Award winner for adult poetry, given by the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities. He is retired from National Geographic, works as a volunteer writing tutor/mentor for 826DC, and lives in Arlington, VA.

Friday, July 19, 2019

Interview with Su Zi (Poet, Artist, and Editor)

Description:  A woman with long, purple hair sits on a blue power scooter with crossed legs. She is wearing sunglasses, a gold jacket, and matching headwear.  She is holding a cigarette in her right hand.  There is a bunch of greenery on her left.
1. What does eco-feminism mean to you, and how does it influence your writing?

Eco-feminism is an academic term for what is also called Gaia Theory (a term elaborated on to book-length by a number of people, including a nice SciComm book by Lovelock): to wit, the planet, our beloved planet, is a living entity of herself. Thus, our behavior is in relationship with the Earth.

Eco-feminism describes our intellectual activities as part of our relationship with Gaia/Mother Earth.

Since I edit and create artist books of poetry by different authors, I look to their writing to see if it acknowledges, at least, or speaks to (or of) that relationship.

In my own work, it always has been about that relationship—overtly, or as an intrinsic underlying aspect of the thesis.

2. Why did you start the Red Mare Chapbook series? Why choose Etsy as a way to distribute the books?

I began Red Mare when Marie C. Jones sent me a manuscript to read that had been rejected—but it was dynamic and beautiful. I told her I would publish it: this turned out to be Red Mare one, but I didn’t begin numbering them until the second book. I had been making little books for years, and still do.

I am no marketing sensation, and since Red Mare is very much handmade (the bindings are handsewn, each one at a time), and since I make other art as well, it seemed logical to include Red Mare in my Etsy shop. Still now, it’s the only online purchase point for Red Mare. It’s not feasible to consign them—although I tried a few times— because the books are a tactile experience, they are really works of art—block prints sewn to poems—and don’t bear up well to the casual, multiple handlings some bookstores felt was okay... judging by the ruined copies that were blithely flung back at me when I stopped back in to inquire. I get that bookstores are businesses first, but...

So, as I am able (a big conundrum there) I have tried to attend small press events, so people can see the books in person. It’s surprising how uniform small press books have become, and what an accepted norm that had become.

3. What are all the types of art you create and which do you enjoy most?

I am a poet, painter, book creator, fiber artist, pottery-making, gardening, bird-watching writer [and] literature devotee.

It’s difficult losing spoons over time, because it keeps you from doing what you love.

4. On the subject of losing spoons: Do you have any tips for writers/artists with limited energy or chronic pain who still want to create?

Yes. You can: Find shorter forms you like, for when you cannot push your endurance. Use writing prompts you like. Keep parts of your week planner unscheduled, in case you are able to read or write. Try changing your writing stylus and tabla—a crayon on big paper is useful for everyone to play with, or big markers for when it’s a day of just a word or fragment. I have done all, at one time or another. Perhaps this will help.

5. Who are your literary influences?

Well, that’s a tough question, because I read as much as my damaged eyes will allow, and there’s the joy of a phrase previously unheard that stays in the mind, and teaches and influences. However, I ought to give credit to my Mother reading me Poe for bedtime stories when I was too young to read. Also, her own wide-ranging reading habits when presenting literature to me as a child. By the time I was a teen, I read voraciously and there was no household censorship: I read Genet at 16, Woolfe and Wolfe and a wide array of modern literature. I suspect that such early exposure was influential—later in life, I was first surprised that other people hadn’t done the same... until I became saddened to realize that it was odd or unusual.

6. Why do some people consider you a "controversial artist"? How do you feel about the label?

I had to think about this one awhile. On one hand, my experiences being called/treated as controversial/taboo were very painful emotionally. On the other hand, it’s stultifying to try to please people—and I have erred there too often. Of late, it dawns on me that my very existence is controversial—an educated female with no discernible cultural/ethnic group (not obviously Caucasian, not obvious of any other group), obviously physically impaired but not discernibly how, not young (anymore), and so forth. I have so many intersections that I was confused by the term intersectionality. Anyway, these aspects of myself filter into my art, my writing... However, I cannot say it enhances any sense of freedom; in our times, it can be terrifying to find oneself endlessly marginalized.

7. How did you realize you were trying to please people and not being true to yourself as an artist? How did your work change when you started creating what you wanted?

I had gotten in some trouble over a painting—a portrait of filmmaker Renvik—and my only exhibition possibilities were craft shows. It’s a lot of time-expense work to exhibit at farm markets and craft shows. After I heard "family friendly" enough times, it began to constrain my work. It’s still a struggle to break free. It’s becoming more and more crucial to me as my illness steals my available energy—to pour it in without censorship.

8. What (do you think) is the biggest barrier to your career as a writer/artist? How do you work around it?

That’s an ironic question, considering we are communicating via DM, instead of whatever; therefore, it seems obvious that my non-urban endless data access in our times doesn’t help. My isolated existence is not conducive to inclusion in an arts community that might emphasize group dynamics. Being disabled/impaired makes people uncomfortable. I am not so great at hustling the game—my work sells, but it would sell better if it was sold by a seller, a pro.

Okay. So there’s lots and lots of barriers—more than that, cuz it’s Always Juggling Energy (spoons).

How do I get around these? I don’t know that I do. I just persist. What I do is born of passion. The intersections of what I make and the work in the world is a constant conundrum.  I made a decision—had a moment of realization, actually, at the Heartland Cafe where I was giving a poetry performance—that it’s the work.

I realized, while I was waiting to go onstage, and watching a performer who was a real hustler, who hustled up a brief few years of arts fame—in so much as no one alive is household famous in most of the arts—but her work was sooo similar to other plots and performances done then. Yes, I saw her hustle, what is called "game" now, and realized that you can game/promote/hustle your work, or you can focus on the quality of the work. I chose the latter, but it comes at a cost.

9. What accomplishment in your artistic/writing career has meant the most to you and why? Did it change your career's trajectory?

My life’s trajectory was formed in fourth grade when I wrote my first poem. I have tried to stay committed to poetry ever since. Along the way, there were incidents that felt supportive of my commitment to my writing; these include, but are not limited to: my first paid poetry reading as a featured reader, opening a number of times for Lydia Lunch, certain publications, certain inclusions... the last is more problematic the more obvious my impairments (disability being a legal term that’s still in decision) are.

The literary and arts communities are usually not warm and welcoming these days—ours are not arts-supporting times.

Nonetheless, I persist. Coping with the deleterious effects of chronic illness is quite the challenge, and it doesn’t leave much room for arts politics, or marketing (submission) and book promotion. The choice is always that if I can create something on a day, I will always choose to keep working.

10. What are your plans for the future? Where do you hope your career is a decade from now?

I am a poet and will be all my days remaining. There are art forms that often require more strength than I have, so I work more slowly. I have whole books buried in obsolete computers and I hope to lazurus those somehow—I have problems with these devices—true story: I once sat down at a computer, not touching it, merely presenting myself in the chair, and it crashed. It did. I don’t know if I have internal electrical divergence too, myself. Amusing thought.

Anyway, I will continue to produce, as I am able. The question is:

Who will find me? Some people really get what I am doing. How will the works find their way to such people? That’s what another ten years will decide.
Biography:  Su Zi is equal parts writer, artist, and badass eco-feminist.  She holds an MA in English and has published in such places as Driving DigestExquisite Corpse, and Blue Heron Review (where she was nominated for The Pushcart Prize).  She resides in Florida with her horses, dogs, cats, and turtles where she runs The Red Mare Chapbook Series.

Friday, July 5, 2019

Branching Birds by Hugh Cook

I stare at shifting light
Bleeding through the curt branches
Tapping shadows and sunburnt clouds.
I feel like the wind-caught leaves
Finding themselves walked in delicate circles.

Chestnut and dark cinnamon feathers
Land above,
Looking at me,
From endless black eyes that say
“Beauty remains.”

A teary breeze took the bird off
Leaving me for what
Next drives into my mind’s wild circles.
Biography:  Hugh Cook attends University of California, Santa Barbara, studying Writing and Literature. He has authored a collection titled The Day it Became a Circle (Afterworld Books). His poetry has been published in Tipton Poetry Journal, Ariel Chart and Muddy River Poetry Review.