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This won’t be a very long post. I’m just uploading my Digital Story.
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Goodnight, And Joy Be To You All
My last snapchat in Cork City, The Republic of Ireland
Oh God, this trip. This wonderful, exciting, draining, infatuating, and soul crushing trip. There was a moment, as we were pulling out of the Cork bus station, and I used the “Corcaigh” geotag on snapchat for the last time, I actually started crying. Last night (1/2/18), Ericka, Esther and I were talking in the hotel lobby, and I came to a very stark realization, I was not lonely on this trip. I went to Spain my first year of high school and knew no one, I was the bottom of the social ladder on that trip. The same goes for my trip to South Africa, my trip to Rome ended one of the best friendships I’ve ever had and my trip to Paris left me feeling completely depressed about high school. However, this trip has taught me so much. Some women in Ireland have been fighting to repeal the 8th for thirty-five years. This is an issue that must be resolved soon, because those women deserve it. And I’ve realized, that as Americans we are the cause for a lot of the issues overseas. That may sound very self-centered and vain – but I don’t mean it that way. It is not like we, as a country, are going out into the world and trying to screw it up… Instead, we are so blind to the fact that the entire world, in order to keep up in a race that has no clear purpose, is taking tips from how we act – even if we don’t want them to. I would have loved to have been able to hear Irish pop music – besides Ed Sheeran who isn’t even Irish by birth – when I was at the Woodford when the cover band played. But the closest they got to playing Irish pop music was Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran. Granted, Galway Girl is a very good song, but most people were not singing along to that song. Instead, I witnessed more people singing at the top of their lungs to Taylor Swift than Ed Sheeran. While I cannot fix the fact that the US is being used as a testing ground for the rest of the world’s obsessions, I do believe that as an individual I can make a conscious choice to keep myself appraised of what is going on in other countries in terms of music, movies, news, and sociopolitical issues. While I knew that Repeal the 8th was a thing before signing up on this trip, it was only because I happen to have a friend who lives in Dublin and I happened to see something about it on her Facebook feed. I cannot say, for certain, that I would have heard about Repeal the 8th if it wasn’t for Heather. And that is honestly terrifying. And that is just one issue in one country. But the people I met in Cork were very aware of things that were going on in the United States, and it was embarrassing. To have someone know – probably – more than you about what is going on in your own country and I consider myself a well-informed citizen of the US. There is also something about the fact that Cork is so immersed in the arts, something about how that room in the Long Valley was filled with upwards of 80 people each Monday night we were there, I think Cork is onto something that the US needs to get back into. The arts. When I interviewed people at Ó Bhéal, I noticed that people were throwing out the names of American poets, but they were all from the 1900s. Emily Dickinson was a favorite alongside Robert Frost and Walt Whitman. But there was not a single poet from the modern era. We are slacking when it comes to art. I feel like this country would rather invest more money in keeping people stupid in front of televisions watching sports instead of fostering communities where artists can flourish. And I know that there are places in the States that does that, the Green Mill in Chicago is an amazing space for poets, but on a large scale, schools are losing their arts programs in order to fund their athletics and line the pockets of bureaucrats who say they care about our children while cutting writing, reading and art classes left and right. If I am being totally honest, I hate the idea that the arts are being seen as acts of resistance. I am not saying that using art as a form of resistance is a bad thing, I think it is one of the most powerful things a person can do because they are putting a piece of themselves out into the world and saying “hey world, I don’t give a fuck what you think, this is important to me!” But the idea that I am resisting society just by studying writing creatively instead of majoring in business is psychotic. Most of this world is based in writing, and honestly people would learn so much about themselves and the world around them if they just sat down to write or read. But, I will get off of my soapbox now. If I’m being completely honest, I had no idea what to expect when embarking on this trip. I remember at the first info session that I went to – when I walked in five minutes late with Starbucks – I was completely ambivalent to Ireland. I had just been sent on a reconnaissance mission for Esther, she was the one who was initially interested in this trip. However, by the end of the info session, I desperately wanted to get on a plane to Ireland immediately. The community formed by the people on this trip allowed me to be my true self. I got to share poems, that if I had written them at SMC would have never left my notes app. For that, I am and will be eternally grateful. I think the amount of trust we had in each other was shown at the final workshop with Professor Garcia, when I read my story that I’ve kept locked away on my computer for years. I never let people read that. I am always too scared of being told that it is complete shit, but I felt so comfortable enough with the people on the group that I read it. And even though this trip is now over, I want a community like this at Saint Mary’s. I want to be able to share my writing and know that it will not be judged. I just hope I can find that space.
My final YouTube video of the day: The Parting Glass – The High Kings because this song perfectly encapsulates how I feel about leaving Ireland. Especially the lines “Of all the money that e’er I had, I spent it in good company.” And, “Of all the comrades that e’er I had, they’re sorry for my going away. And the sweethearts e’er I had, they wish me one more day to stay.” Also, I chose this song because it is a traditional Irish song that I was truly hoping to hear while we were in Ireland. It holds so many fond memories for me, and the High Kings are some of my favorite bands ever.
*Apology* I am so sorry that this is so long. I did not expect it to be, I kind of just felt like I had to write all of that.
**Disclaimer** I will be uploading the Digital Story after get my hands on a USB to USBC cord at Apple so that I can get photographs from this trip that aren’t from my phone since that took a picture maybe 1/8 of the time, everything else was on my camera.
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Poison Control
During the month of January, I decided that I would face my mental health issues head-on and put them out to the world. Little did I know, however, that my hardest challenge was to come during the actual showcase. The first night of the showcase is when I presented, and though it is a little bit of a departure from what I am supposed to write about it, I’m going to do it anyway. Once I’d finished my piece, and successfully sat down without feeling any desire to vomit – something that usually happens when I’m in front of a microphone for more than a minute – I thought I was in the clear. I had my Beamish in hand, and I was about to calm down so that I could cheer on my best friend once the break was over. I listened half-heartedly to a story I’d heard already – only because I wanted to keep down the alcohol I’d paid for – when I heard something that shook me to my core. Sexual harassment being talked about with no warning. The desire to vomit bubbled up in my stomach, and if I hadn’t been so close to the microphone, I would’ve made a mad dash to the bathroom to unload the contents of my stomach. As someone who has lived through sexual harassment and assault, I was floored – and I wondered if maybe I was drunk or hallucinating. Rage also ran through my blood as I saw a few people leave the room, I felt like the unhealthy wellspring that Kathy D’Arcy talked about, ready to explode. And when it was finally over, when I finally thought I could breathe, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs or go cry in the bathroom for an hour but my best friend was next, I didn’t want my emotions to ruin something for her. But, I digress. I think that as an artist, I learned that I do not need to be an unhealthy wellspring of emotions to write. Kathy D’Arcy kind of put it perfectly that writing every day will make the juices flow a lot faster than if one just waits until they cannot hold it in anymore. Even though I had a few bad days on the trip, most of the poems I wrote came from days where I was happy and or just mediocre. While I might have felt that my work was provocative and thought provoking just on its own, I decided to channel my inner physical artist and create work that is multimedia. With pictures that were taken by my lovely roommate Esther, handwriting done by Ches – and one by Rachel – I put pieces on the tables of the Long Valley that had questions attached. Each question correlated to the picture and poem – like my poem about Jameson with a picture of a bottle of Jameson and a question about other kinds of stigmatized issues. I would love to think that the audience had learned that even the most “normal” seeming of people can have demons and that they are more than just what the demons say they are. I think they did learn this because a few people came up to me the next night and told me that they were moved by what I had written. If I had the chance to change anything about my project, I would most definitely have moved my work to the Village Hall and paired all my poems with pictures and hung them on the wall to spurn even more of a discussion. But, I did not have enough time or foresight to think of that. It was only when we did the workshop with professor Garcia that I thought that maybe it was a good idea to branch out from just standing in front of a mic and reading my words aloud.
Youtube video of the day: BLACK PANTER Final Trailer (2018) because when it comes to Art as Resistance, this movie is going to be pure art, and it is subverting so many social “norms” and I truly cannot wait.
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The Boring Stuff
If it is not legible:
My teacher in high school once told me not to go too close to the edge. She did not want me climbing out onto the outcrop above the crashing waves, only to slip and fall into the water below to my death. That same sentiment was repeated when, while on the trip of a lifetime, I visited the mini Cliffs of Moher. Beautifully dangerous, the sea sang to me like a gorgeous siren, she became my muse. My studio became the silent bus on the way back to Cork. Over the course of this trip I realized that I can write wherever I want, whenever I want. Whether it is in the back of the crowded Long Valley Bar, while people are reading and writing or at the top of the Shandon Bell Tower – shaking with fear after climbing through a staircase that is barely wider than my shoulders – I have realized that I do not need to be a font of anger and depression in order to write things that are beautiful. I could have written a poem at the table in the Woodford if I truly wanted to, or over a beer at the Franciscan Well. I wanted to write one about the trivia night we experienced, and how our comments changed one of the questions. I became basic when I wrote a picture while drinking coffee one night – it wasn’t a good look for me. It seems like the wisdom of the Celtic gods and goddesses had been imparted onto me – maybe it is because we met with a man who was named after the famous Fionn McCool – he must’ve seen the salmon of knowledge too. Whatever the case, Ireland has changed my life and I will be quick to return, once I have the time and funds to do so.
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1. Insert photograph from SA on the rocky beach. (mine)
2. Insert photo from Mini Cliffs of Moher looking down at the sea. mine)
3. Insert photo of road to Dublin.
4. Insert photo of 5 word challenge.
5. Insert photo of Shandon Bell
6. Insert photo of river reflection
7. Insert photo of Franciscan Well
8. Insert photo of Trivia Night
9. Insert photo of Bean and Leaf (Esther)
10. Insert photo of Tower from Cliffs
11. Insert photo of my earrings
12. Insert photo of Blarney Castle
13. Insert photo of me with teddy bear
14. Insert photo of Ó Bhéal
15. Insert photo of group selfie. (Dylan)
**Disclaimer** The more interesting travelogue is the previos post.
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Cork is a county and a city?
Saint Patrick’s Church, Cork City, The Republic of Ireland (my photo)
I have never spent more time on my knees, begging in submission and pain, than I have in these past three weeks. I am not usually a submissive person, nor a religious person but there is something about churches that draws me inside. As a student of Art History, I fell in love with the churches of Europe as they were spread out across my page. As a member of choir in high school, I found myself in love with liturgical music. Is it any wonder that the second most Catholic country – by stereotype – in the world would attract me in a way that the Orthodox church could not? I just wanted pictures and to listen to pretty music, I did not want to get on my knees to pray. But I guess, on our last Sunday in Ireland, praying that the workload would somehow get easier and that I wouldn’t vomit after my showcase, was a shot worth taking. Not that it helped at all.
The Shandon Bell Tower, Cork City, The Republic of Ireland (my photo)
Miracles do happen though, at two separate places, Esther and I heard “our song” being played. The first time was wholly surreal, we were walking up past the Shandon Bells – I was grumpily complaining to her that I was cold and wet, and I just wanted to sit – and as if to tell me to shut up, the clock tower began singing out in a cacophony of bells to the tune of Amazing Grace. At the time I thought maybe a higher power was telling me to shut up and stop complaining because I was in fucking Ireland, and therefore I had no reason to complain. That was not the case. In reality – the Shandon Bells can be played by tourists wishing to climb the bell tower, as long as they are willing to pay €5 and whatever it takes to buy new pants – and it is probably the most popular song to be played on those bells since people are basic as all hell.
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Snapchat Story Compilation from January 27, 2018 (my videos)
The night before I sat on my knees, praying for things to work out, I found myself back at a bar I’d visited the night before. I just wanted a super low-key night, I wanted to drink and just listen to people talk. But my friends wanted to listen to music, and the night before that bar had been playing the best American music of the 80s, 90s and now, even though it wasn’t live music – it was good enough for them. Little did our tired selves know, we would be in for a treat that night. Instead of sitting at a small table, listening to Michael Jackson follow Adele, we bore witness to one of the most popular cover bands in the country playing. With an bonus entertainment of inappropriately dressed (and behaved) 30 something-year-old women – who were two hours late for their reserved tables – try to sway the bar owner with their “womanly charms” in order to kick us out of the table we’d gotten because we were young and American. While they only drunkenly danced to Taylor Swift’s scarring “Shake It Off” before going bar hopping, the five of us stayed until the lead singer could no longer remember what song he was supposed to play – and therefore the concert came to an end.
Food and Drink from Aobaba, Dublin, Ireland (my photos).
As crowded as that bar was, it will never compare to trying to fit eight people into a restaurant about the size of a back bedroom in an apartment that should only have one bedroom. I was elected to go in and wait for openings so that people could go in to eat. There was no way any of us were going to another restaurant – like a few others had done when they saw the size of the restaurant – we had one night to try the restaurant, a place that was probably the only in Ireland that sold Boba. Getting to our seats, and ordering our food, was harder than climbing to the edge of the Mini Cliffs of Moher and I fell while trying to get out there.
Mini Cliffs of Moher, County Clare, The Republic of Ireland (Esther’s photo)
While my senses were assaulted by the familiar smell of Pho and noodles at the restaurant, the ocean decided to physically assault me. The bus driver on our tour to the cliffs had told us that we were going to the splash zone, but nothing exciting ever happens to me, therefore, I figured I was safe. Holy hell was I wrong. I was probably sitting down on the cliff for a minute or two, when the ocean came up and covered me with seawater and a chill that spread down my spine. I had already fallen on my ass in my excitement to see the sea, and I knew I was about to spend three hours muttering angrily to myself as I sat uncomfortably on the bus.
Group photo, Cork City, The Republic of Ireland (Dylan’s Photo)
Yet, as this trip draws to a close I feel inexplicably blessed. There have been so many people who I’ve met, many of whom will be leaving SMC in a semester – and so the only memories of a life well loved (or a trip well loved) will be the small journal I’ve been using every day. The sticker on the front that was chosen for me, because according to Rachel “[I should] have the polar bear… because [I’m] white.” After Friday there will be no more traipsing along the River Lee, hands in my pockets as I wonder if it will rain. There’ll be no more “Sláinte,” or “Cilantro,” or even “Shalom.” We could continue that in the US but there would be people missing and people missing out on the joke. Hunter won’t be sitting at a table in the bar area, with a half-finished Guinness on the table while Dylan won’t be jamming out to music trying to finish a new piece. Kaitlin and Gabi will no longer be late to every single thing we have to do, and Rachel won’t be asking the randomest questions at dinner or lunch or coffee. Kassandra will not be telling us about her favorite things, while Ches won’t be there to listen to everyone intently – laughing breathlessly at even the smallest things. Abby will no longer grace us with her beautiful, striking words at Ó Bhéal. There’ll be no more commiserating with Blythe about stress, and Tegan won’t be there to always want coffee and talk about nothing and to spend hours in Penney’s shopping and procrastinating. Ericka won’t be taking down notes of the funniest quotes, and Katie won’t be ahead of the whole class because she actually thinks ahead. Castro won’t be dancing in Irish pubs, and Natalie won’t be there to shake her head at our horrible jokes. However, come second semester, Esther will still be my roommate – unfortunately.
And now it is time for the Youtube Video of the day: Nancy Mulligan by Ed Sheeran since I am so sad that we are going to leave.
**Disclaimer** - The Script will come in the next post.
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HOOB (Humans of Ó Bhéal)? Maybe not...
Photo snapped by myself, at Ó Bhéal during their five-word challenge (22/1/18).
Truthfully, I did have the faintest idea of what to expect when I signed up for the photojournalism project with Ó Bhéal. I half expected to sit in front of a computer for hours, writing about Cork in general while sticking in my own photos in a mad dash to explain what I was writing about – kind of like this blog – but when my group first met with Paul Casey, I found that that was the exact opposite of what we were going to be doing. Since we had met at The Long Valley Pub before ever going to the Civic Trust House – I had no real idea of what Ó Bhéal was and how we could do anything with them. It was very clear upon arrival at the Civic Trust House, that Paul Casey had a very different idea of what we should do to promote Ó Bhéal, and even though the first group had met with him earlier that morning, our group walked out with a very similar idea to theirs. Based off of my love for Humans of New York – the Facebook page that takes photographs and stories from people all over the world (even though the name insinuates it is just in New York) in order to share lived experiences to bridge gaps of ignorance – my group eventually decided that we would do that with regulars at Ó Bhéal’s poetry nights. Within thirty minutes of arriving at the Civic Trust House, we had a game plan lined up along with about nine questions that we were going to rotate when we interviewed people. While the first three questions (What is your day job? How did you end up at Ó Bhéal? And where are you from?) were standard on most of the interviews, the others were to be used at discretion and the answers we received were amazing. One man, that Tegan and I interviewed, said that if he had to have a poem tattooed – or a line from said poem – he would get “I Felt a Funeral, in My Brain” by Emily Dickenson tattooed. Another person interviewed by our group thought that the five-word challenge section of the night was amusing but stressful and that she usually could not put her particular spin on poems written in such a short amount of time. However, all that work we did – since it truly just required typing up and sending to Paul Casey to be put on the Ó Bhéal website – made the second to the Civic Trust House feel completely unnecessary. For the majority of the time we were there, we were talking about other things and itching to do our work for the project – except we did not have laptops so there was no way to put it on WordPress at that moment. Since we have plans to interview a few more people on this coming Monday night, we are very hopeful that we’ll get more gems from the people at Ó Bhéal, one person gave a copy of her poetry after the event was over and since the poem was from a sheep’s perspective, it is one that I’m looking forward to transcribing into my notebook. So, while the administrative side of the project was a bit dull, actually interviewing the people was a wonderful experience that I am so glad to have had.
If you have not taken a look Humans of New York’s website or Facebook page, please do. It is a bright spot in this world at the moment.
Youtube video of the day, since we visited the Cliffs of Moher today - and there is a section of the cliffs named after the Cailleach: Witches and Hags: Crash Course World Mythology #39.
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My work will never be in a Paris salon, and that is ok with me.
Painting is Impression, Sunrise (1872) by Claude Monet.
For people whose work does not fit the mold of what art should be, arts administration can provide a place to share and work without the crushing views of society. From Dada art to Monet’s Impression, Sunrise, artists across all of time and space have dared to break the mold of what society has wanted. And to be able to curate events that might not be welcomed by the by the elite is a privilege that everyone should partake in. For me, I see myself doing arts administration as resistance by bringing women together to write about – and then share – pieces on sexual assault, mental health and even just menstruation as a way to tell the general public that these things are experiences and our experiences should not go unnoticed. Even though I am not very good at bringing people together, I would definitely love to be a part of a team – with more charismatic people who can draw in crowds – to create spaces that are available for sharing. It also kind of relates to my job in the Intercultural Center on campus where I work to create dialogue in first-year residence halls surrounding cultural competency and creating an inclusive community on the SMC campus. While my job is not focused on art, we do use art in the form of activities such as “My Life Collage” to have people share parts of their lives that may not be visible unless it is drawn out on a piece of craft paper. Personally, I believe that it is very important to learn about arts administration as an artist, because before this class I never knew that people all over the world were holding events in pubs for poetry readings or putting on events in the spare rooms of theatres, just because they really enjoyed what they were doing, also I never knew about artists residencies and because of this trip I have had so many doors opened. In terms of having my work supported by arts administration, I am now confident that there are people out there who will help me if I decide to pursue art in my future. There are people who will allow me to live in cities across the world in order to be inspired, there are people who allow me to take the microphone in order to share my experiences as someone with mental health issues as well as someone who has been party to sexual harassment. My words, my resistance, is not alone and I am so glad that I now have the tools to put myself out there and spread my work. I have also learned that there are publishers who go against the norms, who don’t care what others think of them and who will publish work that does not fit the normal literary canon. And to me, that is purely amazing. But, it has also opened my eyes to the fact that arts administration is something that can take a lot of work – and to those who decide to run administrations for the arts are akin to saints.
Here is a link to the Intercultural Center’s website.
Also, art as resistance youtube video of the day: Oh Love by MisterWives...
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A Poem for Repeal the 8th.
Inversion
Break bread for their sins / Pray for the lives of those / They force to be born
Condemn them, oh Lord / To the pits of hell, a lash / For each child who must / Suffer a life half lived
They claim a haughty / Moral high ground that / Teeters on children’s backs
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A Visit and a Meeting
A Visit and a Meeting
I would be lying if I said that this past weekend (Friday through Monday) wasn’t a struggle. Though there were many issues at play as to why I was not in the best state – I have to say the most prevalent reason was that I had finally been hit with the sickness that has been slowly creeping across our group since the day we came over from San Francisco. However, what pushed me through the weekend was the trip to Dublin and my meeting Monday afternoon with the poet Kathy D’Arcy. It seemed almost fortuitous that our group travelled to Dublin on the anniversary of the inauguration of America’s 45th president – and also on the eve of their referendum to repeal the 8th amendment to the Irish Constitution. The night we spent in Dublin – I spent more time on my phone watching videos, pictures and social media post stream in as people back home in the states took part in marches. There was something about that and knowing that I would meet with Kathy D’Arcy a short time later, that renewed my spirit to write and I found myself writing my first poem since I had gotten sick – which doesn’t sound too impressive, but I was also in an emotional rut as well. If I thought the videos from the Womxn’s March was a muse, then the signs that I saw on the way back to the bus station were the muse to my muse. It was at that moment that the meeting with Kathy D’Arcy a few nights earlier at dinner actually sunk in, I was disgusted by what I saw and I wrote another poem that I am now considering including in my final project.
The interview with Kathy D’Arcy though, that was something truly special. For around an hour, I found myself listening more intently than I have probably ever done, and taking more notes than I thought was possible. Not only were her words of advice as a writer relatable and impactful, but they were also funny. Her comment about wishing she was a novelist only because there is more money to be made there instead of in poetry was so grounded in this idea that no matter how creative we want to be, there is still a societal pressure to earn money and be famous. And I think meeting with her really illuminated some things that I hadn’t really thought about – but had unconsciously made my mind up about. I want to write, and I want to create art but at the same time, I want to live comfortably and if that means that I have to write as well as do other things then that is really okay with me. Her words also rung true when she talked about how her family only started “paying attention” to her work once she was being interviewed for the radio and major events – because at this point my parents think that my writing is not good enough at all, and that if I try it out I’ll somehow lose interest and find a more respectable career. On the activist side, for Kathy D’Arcy, I found it interesting how she was saying that she is not really sending out works or attending writers circles because she is more focused on the Repeal the 8th movement. She criticized other writers who have said that they support the campaign, but who are still attending writers circles and sending out their works instead of working on an issue that she said is one of the most important in Ireland.
Some additional things that really struck me - in relation to activism and writing as a woman:
Last year, this video was filmed at the Women’s March on Washington, and the song has always popped back up into my head when I think of how tough it is to be a woman at this juncture of history.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLvIw8J8sWE
Though this poem was written by a man, the words speak to me as someone who is struggling to push off the thumb of many issues trying to suppress my voice,
Then, since I talked about the Women’s March, I thought it was very topical to attach pictures from the march I attended last year.
*All photos are mine. The first two photos are from Dublin and the meeting with Kathy D’Arcy, respectively.
Since my interview notes were well over 800 words long, they can be found in the preview blog post. And, the poem I wrote in response to seeing something in Dublin will be in the next blog post along with signs that inspired it.
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Repeal Woman: Who is She?
On January 22, 2018 in a small café called Quay Co-op on the south bank of the River Lee, I – along with six others - got the honor to interview a local poet and activist who goes by the name Kathy D’Arcy. I first saw her perform her work at Saint Mary’s in October for a class I was enrolled in. In fact, one of the assignments of that class was to email the professor afterwards with questions for the speaker we had just seen. And while I did not think to look up the question I had emailed my professor before I went to the interview – my question was answered just by the conversation we had.
Interview Notes*
Artist and Activist:
How did you get into poetry? –> been into poetry since she was 8, just started one day. Doesn’t remember a time when she wasn’t a poet. “I wish I was a novelist. There’s more money there.”
When she was a teen, used to write pressure cooker poetry –> word vomit, sometimes at 4 am**. Not a healthy lifestyle.
Found discipline in writing in her 20-30s. Took her a decade to nail it down.
Do you do any other type of art? –> No, she has a job now. Except she does write plays. She used to do other forms of art in the past. Played piano at home, had to move into an apartment with no piano. Used to paint on the floor with makeup.
What was your first published work? –> Couldn’t remember. Knew she had work published before her 1st collection was published. Her 1st collection came out very early in her career. “I didn’t give a shit about the literary scene [when her first collection was published]”.
“[First publisher] didn’t give a shit [about the literary scene], no one likes them so they don’t get funded.”
Where do you find your motivation to write? –> Finishing is a state of mind. At that point of her life [1st collection], she thought she could die anytime. She visualized reading at the publication of her 2nd collection, she could see the carpet, what she was wearing and the page but not the poems.
Does the content of your poems differ from your plays? –> They used to. Her poetry used to not be political, “[Irish population] wants you to write about family dynamics, The Odyssey or flowers.” Her plays used to be more political, now they’re equally political.
Her family hates that she writes poetry. It feeds back into her writing, gives her a lot of material. Also, being catholic – it’s a curse and a gift.
Do you have any siblings? –> She has a sister who is a secondary school teacher. Her brother is a software architect. She is the oldest. Her siblings also aren’t too chuffed that she writes poetry. Her father’s family are frustrated artists. Like the Irish stereotype, artistic souls who get drunk then go out into the field to work.
What is your artistic process? –> She tries to meditate. She likes to leave thing up to chance though.
Artistic practice vs Activist, do they clash? –> They mesh together usually, but she is focused more on repealing the 8th than publishing her work. She finds it hard to write about the 8th. It has to come from the heart. Isn’t a fan of the over the top political poetry about it that sounds forced***.
She is the media spokesperson for Rebels for Cork.
Do you experience writers block? –> Not anymore. Not since she started doing stream of consciousness writing. She has system in place to get in the mood to write. She believes that you have to “cue your senses like a fucking Pavlovian dog” in order to write.
What is your favorite poem to read? –> The curse poem****. Though she believes that it might be a little overdone and she’s sending bad karma into the world. She’ll retire the poem when the man dies. [I don’t know who the man is].
How did you get into the Repeal the 8th Campaign? –> When she was 18 she was very anti-choice. Used to protest and silently hold signs up. “I was a mouthpiece for my mother.” Women talked to her, slow change into her views. She was always a feminist, she just used to be a sheltered child. “I was enraged that I had been raised to hate my own body.”
Repeal is a pinnacle, lot of weight on the shoulders of very few. The rest are “armchair activists.”
You said you don’t like writing poetry about Repeal, will you write poetry about it once it gets repealed? –> Maybe, it is like a relationship, you can’t write about it while you are in it but once you’re out of it…
Are there any spearheads of Repeal the 8th? –> Abortion Rights Campaign.
Are there any larger feminist goals in Repeal? –> No, they tend to be very insular with the one issue. However, she wants to end Direct Provision – in Ireland, when it comes to maternal mortality 60% of the deaths were migrant women.
It cost around €2,000 to travel to England to get an abortion.
Are there any programs to support single mothers or children who are given up for adoption? –> No, there aren’t many. Mostly because the Magdalen laundries were dismantled not too long ago.
Watch the movie Grandma with Lily Tomlin.
Did the Women’s March on Dublin (in support of the one on Washington DC) do anything to fuel support for Repeal? –> A little bit, but here every issue with women usually turns into an issue on abortion.
She is Repeal Woman, a superhero.
*disclaimer, these are all just typed from my notebook.
** Funny how she mentioned 4 am. All the best things happen at 4 am.
Link to Ted Talk: https://www.ted.com/talks/rives_a_museum_of_4_o_clock_in_the_morning
*** Oh god, she won’t like my poem about it then…
**** She said she might read it tonight at the Long Valley.
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How the Hell Have I Made it this Far?
READING RITES
The works of Kathy D’Arcy from her book The Wild Pupil are a striking example of what a woman’s voice can do when it is not silenced by the world of men. Her poetry is emotional, personal, mundane at points and evocative of an experience that has been silenced for far too long. In her poem “Work��, she writes about how a man can soil a woman. Her poem goes “After you leave / I follow the trail of you around the house / with the Hoover,” while the piece then goes on the evoke the idea that she is getting rid of the trail of a workman in her house, the idea that she has to erase the memory of any man is a narrative so prevalent in a woman’s life that even I have had to do that by having a bonfire of my ex’s stuff. The work also – as mentioned before – paints the man as a worker who has come into her house and rifled through her things. And while that can be taken in a quite literal sense, it can also be seen as the idea that she did not intend on falling in love with the man. And now that he has left, she has to clean up the mess that he left behind. Another way to read the poem is to read it as the woman has been assaulted or raped, and therefore her story becomes even more powerful because it is seen as society telling her to clean up her life and just move on, even though that is almost impossible to do. On Thursday, January 18, 2018, we had a workshop with Kathy D’Arcy where we did some erasure poems. The pieces we pulled poems from were mostly Irish documents – some literary, some historical, some contemporary and some were prose or fiction – and the piece I chose was a piece called “Gile Na Gile” by the poet Egan O’Rahilly. His work is about Ireland as a maiden who has been sullied by Britain and is in need of a change – a change that only Irish men can bring about. So, on the whole, a really sexist piece. But as a woman, I was able to black out the horrible parts and create a piece that speaks to the state of women today. Not only was it liberating to do, but it also was amazing to read out to the whole class and get applause for what I had done, bringing to the forefront a woman’s voice when society wants us to be quiet. A few questions I had mainly revolved around women’s voices as a whole. How can men work to be good allies to women, to lift us up but not overpower us with their voices and privilege? What would the world look like if more women did erasure poems to historical documents, would the American Declaration of Independence be fairer and actually equal? And finally, how does Kathy D’Arcy’s work relate to the burgeoning movements across the world when it comes to other oppressed voices, can her work cross racial and cultural lines and be relevant there?
ARTISTIC PORTION
As I mentioned above, I truly think the workshop with Kathy D’Arcy changed the way I view my work. It is no longer just for me at this point, I want to share it with others and I want it to speak to others, not just my tortured soul. My project, which I have tentatively decided will be called Ours Poetica will relate to how my mental state is universal. It was also inspired by the box project we did at UCC. The box that I decided to become an expert on was half light and half dark. The light side was filled with the artist’s hobbies and loves – which were numerous, while the dark side was painted jet black and only contained one item – which was a canister labeled fears. It really spoke to me because it made me realize that my struggle was not just felt by me, but even by a college student 5,078 miles from Saint Mary’s.
Attached is the link to the original “Gile Na Gile”: https://archive.org/stream/dntaaoaginuraail03orah#page/18/mode/2up
Photos are of the physical text that I blacked out.
Erasure poem of Gile Na Gile
I saw lonely blue eyes /Morose and white /Robbed of creation
He was of /Destruction and fear, / Captive of Mary and maiden
Mad with a bounding sorcery / Mocking a maiden in bondage / Ill to an awkward churl
The race was waiting / He weeps upon a lonely path
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Shandon Bells & Tower
Today, my wonderful roommate dragged me out to the Shandon Bells and Tower in the Shandon neighborhood or Cork, Ireland. We ran over there when we noticed the skies were sunny - for once - and it seemed like a good idea at the time. The website said that it was only 132 steps to the top - it sounded so easy. We were so wrong. Yes, it was 132 steps, but the steps were the size of two regular steps, and the corridors were only slightly wider than my shoulders. It would be an understatement if I said that I was terrified. The view at the top, was so beautiful though that I was truly okay with it when we got up there. I just forgot to realize that we had to walk all the way back down as well…
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Free To Speak, Resist the Oppressors
When I was a sophomore in high school, I was admitted to the psychological ward of Ann and Robert H. Lurie’s Children’s Hospital of Chicago due to a suicide attempt. When I returned to school after that, I was told not to talk about what had transpired because it was not socially acceptable and that it would bring great shame to my family as a result. During that time, because I could not turn to the people around me, I turned my thoughts and pain to my writing. As a writer, I am constantly trying to incorporate the traumas in my life in a way that does not paint me as the victim. Just because I have gone through things that no one else should does not mean that I am not powerful and I want my writing to reflect that. In my fiction, it is through portraying flawed female characters as my heroes while in my poetry it is by bringing mental health struggles to the forefront. I’d like my work to be seen as a guidebook on what life can be like for someone who has suffered at the hands of both mental illness and abuse – two things that society believes it is comfortable talking about until the conversation actually starts. On January 1, 2018, I began a project called Ours Poetica, the title being a play on Horace’s Ars Poetica. The project consists of me writing a poem every single day, that somehow has to relate to my mental state, even if it does not seem like it is directly correlated to me. While I have not delved into the problems I face because of abuse, I have already touched upon depression and the pain in my life. The source of inspiration for this project came from the fact that I am tired of playing second fiddle to my trauma. I am tired of not knowing who I am without the scars of depression and abuse, and through writing about it – even when I really don’t want to – I hope that maybe I can start healing and find myself as a human. My art as resistance really is about being frank, I don’t want to sugarcoat anything. The internet has this bad habit of saying that relationships can fix anything, no matter what and personally I think it is a load of bullshit. I want the audience to realize that the toxic way people can talk about these topics is not only damaging people who have to live with those scars every day of their lives but also that they are damaging themselves by not being as aware to the fact that the scars aren’t the only defining features of someone. One of my greatest inspirations for this project was the late Carrie Fisher, who had been very blunt about her struggles with addiction, depression and mental health issues in general. That challenge of social norms is something that I want to do as well, but I want to do it from a place within myself, not from a place that holds an air of superiority or distance from the problem.
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In the modern world, society puts the mark of a black sheep on those who have taken their own lives because of mental health issues – society says that their lives were not worth grieving over because they took a selfish act and made their choice. However, as someone who is suffering, I have made it my goal to shed some light on the inner workings of someone who has mental health issues – particularly PTSD, borderline personality disorder, generalized anxiety and major depressive disorder – to name a fair few. My project desires to fight the status quo when it comes to how people talk about mental health issues by baring my soul for the world to see. One of my key beliefs is that everyone should have the right to say whatever they please, even if it goes directly against what society believes is normal. There are things that society does that is not correct or even right, and people should be able to speak up about their lived experiences to challenge the status quo. To quote Jon Voight in National Treasure “Cooperation only lasts as long as the status quo is unchanged. As soon as this guy gets to wherever this thing ends… he won’t need you anymore.” People in power only want to work with others to ensure that things stay the way that they always have been. To go against the status quo would be akin to painting a target on one’s back – but if enough people band together and alert society to the issues at hand then the target can no longer be placed – and people can speak openly about their lived experiences. With lived experiences being spoken about, then a dialogue can be created and everyone’s lived experience is valid no matter what they say.
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