This week has been devoted to prepping for the McGroarty Arts Center’s first annual arts festival! Part of the festivities will include “Colliding Rhythms” a poetry reading on Sunday March 16th at 3:30 p.m.
Please, please come. The McGroarty Art Center is something of a poetic wonderland. There will be drums and poems and drinks and trees and incredible light cascading off of mountains.
I didn’t know anything about this place until Joe DeCenzo extended an invitation to participate. I didn’t know Joe; I didn’t know McGroarty. I didn’t know that McGroarty was designated poet laureate of California by the State legislature in 1933. I didn’t know that before the World Wars Sunland was created as a sort of utopian escape from the city—a place for dreamers to bed roots and grow a new life outside of lung-crushing factories. Joe knows this; Joe DeCenzo works diligently to weave California poets into the tapestry of their western heritage.
This magical tree-house of a historic site is a home for the arts. It is well worth your time to be in this space; it truly is an inspirational place.
Inspiration is essential to any artist—any community. It is easy to get lost in the maze ofwhy poetry; inspiration is the thread that leads an artist safely out of the labyrinth.
I’ve been teaching the myth of the Minotaur—that animal that marks our genetics and our reckoning of with the self. It is ultimately a recognition of the other that leads us out from the dark passages—those spiraling corridors of doubt and fear. For this reading, I commissioned one of my students to create a costume. Her handy work is quiet fine; her spirit is nothing shy of lovely. She dreams of being a fashion designer—a maker. She doesn’t just dream; she does the work of the dream. She sews and sews and sews until her visions become tangible. With her help, I’ve been transforming into my own sense of other—my bull of reckoning.
Oh other—bull in the darkness—my strange bread—my sideshow. For this reading I hope to give everyone who attends a little show—a little three rings of self exploration.
I have to admit an obscene about of work goes into any artistic endeavor. Adding to the obscenity is the persistent uncertainty that comes with any creative work. I’ve been working on a character for this reading—a transformation that helps us all enter a creative space—a place of images.
As a child, I liked to play with image. I would often cut off all my hair; sometime assume a male name—desperately attempting to understand differences. I thought assuming the differences would help me be closer to others. I often find myself wishing I was more like my younger self; she really didn’t give a fuck what people thought. She was obsessed with how they felt—she wanted to feel as they did, no matter how different they were from her. There was some magic in that—I would like to get back to that magic. I’m going to try on March 16th; please come with me.