Words of the wise
Apr. 14—details
Poetry workshop
* with Darryl Lorenzo Wellington
* 11 a.m. April 22
* Santa Fe Public Library Southwest Room, 145 Washington Ave.
* library@santafenm.gov, 505-955-6781
Poetry reading
* Darryl Lorenzo Wellington debuts his Poems about Santa Fe Murals series
* 5 p.m. April 23
* Teatro Paraguas, 3205 Calle Marie
* 505-424-1601, teatroparaguasnm.org
Naming of 2023 Santa Fe youth poet laureate
* 4 p.m. April 29
* Jean Cocteau Cinema, 418 Montezuma Ave.
* Free; RSVP to witterb123@gmail.com
While tastes in music may vary widely, nearly everyone enjoys some form of it, says New Mexico Poet Laureate Lauren Camp.
People don't dismiss the entire art form if they hear a song they don't like. Yet poetry as a whole is unfairly judged as something people either enjoy or dislike, Camp says — despite being every bit as varied in style and genres as any other art form.
Camp is one of four poets who shared their thoughts about the oft-misunderstood medium to coincide with National Poetry Month, with each answering the same set of questions. Their replies are edited for length and clarity.
In addition to Camp are Darryl Lorenzo Wellington, whose tenure as Santa Fe poet laureate continues through summer; Elena Gonzales, whose tenure as Santa Fe youth poet laureate ends April 29; and Santa Fe's Gigi Guajardo, stage name Gigi Bella, whose honors include being ranked the world's 10th-best female poet at the 2017 Women of the World Poetry Slam. Gonzales, a graduate of the New Mexico School for the Arts, is a freshman at Drexel University in Philadelphia.
What attracted you to poetry?
Gigi Bella: When I was a teenager, a friend was involved in theater with me. One night she took me to a poetry slam. It was the first time I had ever seen or heard anything like that. I hadn't realized poetry was a way to tell your own stories instead of performing pre-written work — which absolutely also has value. This was just way more interesting to me.
Lauren Camp: I had long been a prose writer. When I moved to New Mexico, I began making artwork in the medium of fiber, fabric, and thread. At some point, I put on a solo exhibit. Someone asked me who wrote the poems that were in the space, and I replied that there were no poems in there. That person took me from artwork to artwork of mine, pointing out the wall text that was beside the artwork and saying, "This is a poem."
Darryl Lorenzo Wellington: I think it's the capacity to say what you can't say in other mediums. In my journalism, I'm often obliged to be very literal. That was one of the things that I appreciated about poetry — that I could drift into a fantastic world.
Elena Gonzales: One person responsible for my interest in poetry would definitely be Joaquín Zihuatanejo. He's Dallas' [first] poet laureate. I had the privilege of him becoming my poetry professor [at NMSA]. I was a music major and a creative writing minor. Professor Zihuatanejo was a Chicano poet, and he really highlighted the works of Chicano folks, Black folks, Asian folks, transgender folks. He was very inclusive in his curriculum, but not in a way where it felt forced.
Is there a place in New Mexico that particularly inspires you creatively? And how does the state's abundance of quiet and solitude affect your output?
Bella: Being someone with mental illness, I don't really know how quiet things ever really are for me. I write to quiet a lot of things for myself. Everything just kind of feels big and heavy, and I can put it to the page into smaller words; into linear thought; into things that make more sense. Then things feel quieter no matter where I am. I wrote a book called big feelings that came out in 2020, and it was largely inspired by my time in New York [where Bella lived for a couple of years], juxtaposed with home. I feel like I can take my time when I'm in New Mexico. In New York, there was this urgency. The sound kind of goes along with that urgency.
Gonzales: I'm from Socorro, so my hometown is like 8,000 people. One of my favorite views is on the way from Socorro to San Antonio. Also, driving through Abiquiú on the way to Colorado, I feel really inspired there. Being in New Mexico and thinking about New Mexico, it's like 95 percent of my writing because that's where I spent over 95 percent of my life. Looking at the night sky, if you can see a clear sky full of stars, it really reminds you just how little everything is, and that you need to remember to laugh. It reminds you, "This is where I am in the world. This is where I am in the universe."
Camp: The state as a whole makes me feel that — the spaciousness, the warmth of the colors, the quiet. It's desert, so it requires careful observation to see some of the extreme beauty, and I like all of it. Between noise and distance and visibility here, there is a lot of space for a person to be creative.
You've shared your art in crowds. What would you say to someone who finds that prospect terrifying?
Wellington: What is most important about any type of public presentation is finding a cadence or rhythm, a voice, a style that really represents you. If you can relax into being you, you will be good. To perform, you have to learn to live without a certain amount of control, which sounds like the easiest thing to do. And it's the hardest thing.
Camp: I heard something a long time ago on this subject that I really liked: An audience is there to support you. They believe in you, and they're not there to take anyone down. And I think that it's part of the circle of the poem, to write it and also to have someone on the other end of it, someone who sort of collected it from you. There's a great value to completing that circle.
Bella: It's my belief that the best writing is grounded in something that's in you, and that's harder to do. That's scarier to get up there and say. The thing I would say is that [gaining the confidence to write and perform] doesn't happen overnight.
Gonzales: I had a very wise music teacher — his name is John Rangel, and he teaches at NMSA — and he told me, 'Do you know why you're scared before your performance? Because you care.' Caring is the first step to creating good art.
Are there any misconceptions about poetry that you'd like to clear up?
Wellington: There is this bit of aura around poetry reading that it should be serious. There is nothing wrong with being serious, but all art is a form of entertainment. I find that artists tend to be rather playful people. They can be very intellectual, but when it comes down to it, you're making things up. And I know for myself, I cannot stay in environments where I feel the leaders are off-putting or are more about artists one-upping each other than about contributing to the art form.
Gonzales: I feel there's this misconception that poetry is this old, white Shel Silverstein or Shakespeare art form — that you have to be kind of a snob to get into it. I think the best poet of our generation, with the most widespread influence, is Kendrick Lamar. I'd say that poetry is historically a Black art form — like, we should be talking about rap and hip hop [as examples of poetry]. It's not like this old thing. It's a living, breathing art form and community of people.
Camp: There is no wrong way to interpret a poem. I teach, and a lot of times I'll have 10 students in a room who all have different opinions about either a whole poem or parts of a poem. They walk away from it feeling good or sad or just something different, or they interpret lines differently. And every [interpretation] is valid.
What's the best thing your poetry accomplishes, either for you or for others?
Bella: It's healing for me. Yes, I like telling my stories, but I do it because I know that it has saved my life in many ways and at many different points. And if I can reach young people who need something to hold on to, that's what I want.
Wellington: It's a release. I have too much in my head, and I have to release some of it. In fact, I wish I could release more of it.
Camp: The best thing it accomplishes for me is an ability to capture what I'm observing, or thinking, or worried about, or grateful for — any of those things in a way that is exhilarating to me. What I hope it accomplishes out in the world is some connection to even one other person.
Gonzales: I play the saxophone, and I thought artwork was a really linear thing — like, something's going to start here, and then it's going to end there. As I got into poetry, I had an epiphany, almost. The world is really not linear at all. I feel like there's this weird infatuation with things finishing and starting, but there are infinite eras in your life. If you want to have a new era every day, there's nothing stopping you. It's all just about where you put your mind.
How does identity manifest itself in your work?
Bella: I write a lot about my Mexican heritage. It's very important to the foundation of my life. And I wrote a book about my relationships and a little bit about identity. The place that I had experienced racism the most was in my intimate partner relationships with white men. And I've wanted to put a lens on that.
Wellington: I've done several presentations recently on the history of Black poets, and that's fascinating, because everyone in New Mexico has to deal with race or culture in a certain way. When I lecture on Black poets in New Mexico, many of their experiences — and I can tell this by the audience reaction — are relevant to all New Mexicans.
