I'd been promising myself I'd write
a poem every day during my too short two week vacation. Most years I'm in Colorado dealing with my
mom's inability to do anything quietly or the franticness that my sister approaches buying presents for her husband's side of the family. But, this year, I'm home and really wanting
to spend my time writing. Usually that
involves poetry, but this year, the essay seemed to tickle my muse and I've
found myself drawn to the form again and again. So, here I am, Christmas morning and I'm
thinking and wanting to get my thoughts down on paper because I don't really know
what I'm thinking until I put it down on paper (virtual paper). The
pattern this year seems to be to really break down how art works (or at least
how I see art working), so after finding
myself talking about my set at the Green Mill and my next morning conversation
with Marc I thought I'd get it down and relate it to Louis CK's show at the
Beacon Theater.
When
I began thinking about my set for Chicago, I knew I wanted to do work that I
connected with. I also knew that the
deadline of the show would force me to memorize work so I included pieces that
were haphazardly memorized and pieces that needed to be memorized (for a longer
monolog that I want to perform next summer).
Here was the list (with notes that I'll talk about):
Setlist for Chicago:
(change to Chi-town
references-casual intro) Answer me that
Jack
(first poetry reading and about
Chicago) When the Revolution Really
Deja Vu
Dear Tom
Underwater
So...what I've really been
interested in is when a performance start and what constitutes performance in a
poetry reading. Now I'm not
particularly fond of the "traditional" way poetry sets are
arranged. Most of the time, an
experienced reader/performer will have some sort of anecdote/comment and then
say something like "This poem is called...." or "My next
poem..." It seems to me to be this
is a rather clunky way of letting the audience know when they should focus and
when they shouldn't. I, however, wanted
a way to hold the audience for longer chunks of time, to string poems
together. I wanted to take the audience
on a longer journey (20 minutes) not just 2-3 minutes, then a short breather,
then 2-3 minutes, etc. So in picking
the first poem, I decided I wanted to make the poem conversational, so that the
audience wouldn't know that the reading
had started and I'd have to sort of coax them into paying attention instead of
metaphorically announcing, "Pay Attention." So what I did was take the below poem,
"Answer Me That," and change the references so it seemed as if it
just happened. Here's the original:
I’m sitting in a coffee shop on
Central and I’m a little shocked by what I just saw on the walk over. A white truck with a black dog in the bed
pulled out in front of this green Saturn and was struck by it and spun around
ninety degrees. The dog became a cart
wheeling bundle of black fur and twisted and turned in the air for a good
twenty feet. None of the people were
harmed, and the cars – good old disposable cars – who cares. But the dog – he trotted back to the truck
and jumped into the bed like nothing happened.
Now I can’t get the image out of my
head, this black mass flipping and twisting in the air and I’m almost glad I
didn’t see him hit the pavement, and I couldn’t stop and say I was a witness
and give my name and address because I kept seeing this bundle of black fur
that I didn’t even realize was a dog at first flying through the air in a mass
of legs and paws and I’m supposed to write about Kerouac. I’m supposed to write about the disjointed
style and verbal barrage of The
Subterraneans when all I see is the black fur flipping and twisting and
that image is juxtaposed against an image of my own black dog running out into
the street and hitting a car and running back inside and dying on my living
room floor. And I’m supposed to write
about Kerouac when I can’t help but shake and freak out.
Take this image from my mind
Jack. Take it with you on the road and
you and Cassidy can mull it over and talk about how grand it is as you plow
through the eternal present of 40’s America.
And I wonder if you could write fast enough Jack. I wonder if the very act of writing is
counter to Zen because you have to absorb the world then spit it back out. Then why write? Why write Jack? Answer me that.
Basically my tone was
conversational and I changed one reference "Central" to
"Broadway," because the Green Mill is on Broadway. From my perspective, the audience was
actually sucked in and it worked. My
anecdotes were simple and short between poems: going to hear Peter Michaelson as my first
poetry reading before a cover of his poem (which is basically set in downtown
Chicago), talking a little about part of the reason I was in Chicago (which
actually was my nephew's Bar Mitzvah), noting that I still don't have "Deja
Vu" memorized, and talking about me and Mindy's sort of "Panel
Discussion"/reception with her family to announce our marriage (which was
the preface to a love poem that I added to the set right before I went up there). And it worked. The crowd listened, laughed, and I got many
compliments after the show.
So,
in talking to Marc the next morning, I asked him what he thought of my
set--(Seriously. You're sitting in Marc
Smith's apartment and have a chance to get feedback why wouldn't you ask for
it?). He was generally complimentary but
actually surprised me because he felt that I "betrayed" the audience
with my first poem by starting it that way.
Betrayed?
Wow! I didn't feel that. My experience was that the audience was with
me the whole time. Marc felt that I
lost them but regained them because the rest of my set was authentically
me. Interesting. So what I'm left with is this: do poetry audiences
have expectations of the performer? Obviously,
a stand-up audience expects to laugh and the lights will dim when the comic
comes out on stage (but they also know to pay attention when the comic comes
on-more on this in a bit). And an
audience in a movie theater knows the movie is going to start because the
lights basically go to black (even beyond the dimming during the
previews). But many poetry shows don't
have visual cues, the light don't dim, etc. so the poet has to provide the
"roadsigns" so that the audience is in on the act.
When I started my set the way I did, I
actually kept the audience out of the act.
They didn't know that my first poem had actually started, but that was
what I was trying to do. So the
question really is, "Did it work?" and taking Marc's criticism to
heart, I don't think that it did. He
pointed out that for it to "work" I'd have to let the poem be more
than it was....it really is a pretty simple poem. But, I think there's another way to do it and
that would be to really change the poem so that there are no markers to it
being a poem at all.
Ironically,
Louis CK's new special (downloaded off his website) starts with Louis walking
to the Beacon Theater (through the streets of Manhattan-deliberately similar to
his intro from FX show) and then into the crowd mulling around the entrance,
people handing over their tickets, taking their seats, etc. Finally as the crowd settles in the camera
follows Louis onto the stage and him explaining he's going to do all the
necessary announcements (turn off your cells, etc). And then he's off. The lights are dimmed (but Louis's already
on the stage and initiates it) but there really is no marker that the show has
started. And it works. I think part of the reason it works is that
Louis's whole act is sort of "conversational." But can it work with a poetry set?
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