Like most writers, I find myself very intrigued by opposing desires. I like to explore how several emotions, needs, or ideas can exist inside the human body and mind at once, and what reaction that may cause; or how one need impedes on another. The alcohol, specifically a bottle of vodka, became a metaphor for this exploration in Half Empty Bottle. The descriptions in this poem move back and forth between pleasure and displeasure. At the beginning, there are soothing details like “silk” and a “breeze” followed by the threatening description of the “pinch to the mouth;” then, there is the hopeful image or idea of the “wishing well” followed by the discouraging “bitter rim of flame.” Pleasure is always accompanied by antagonism: the idea of something being comforting or enjoyable, but also having a certain danger to it.
I tend to view alcohol through this lens of duality, because my birth father was an alcoholic, and I, as well as some of my other family members, have confronted other struggles involving it. I was less interested in exploring the social ramifications of alcoholism and more interested in exploring the complexity of the drinker’s relationship to alcohol. I wanted to examine how this person sees the substance and negotiates the opposing desires of wanting the feeling of what the liquid offers (relief, pleasure) with the knowledge that those gulps can harm or threaten their stability. This fragile line the drinker walks lends to the tension and images in this poem.
Open endings risk misinterpretation, which is why some writers avoid them, but they can also lead to complexity and discovery, which is why I find them so engaging. I have received some feedback on this poem before where opinions were divided between a positive and negative interpretation of the ending. Some interpreted “the things that/hide/ breathe again” as lines that indicated the emergence of dark emotions, while others found a sense of relief, as if the poem’s character was being stifled and is now able to breathe in some way. I appreciated each of these interpretations and believe the ending as well as the rest of the poem is a mixture of these two ideas. I want readers to engage in the experience of the poem and make conclusions about it based on their worldview and relationship to the bottle.
Denise Rodriguez currently lives in Austin, Texas. She received her MFA in Poetry from Texas State University in San Marcos and her B.A. of Arts from The University of Texas at Austin. She has been published in Analecta 33, Kweli Journal, A River and Sound Review, and The Pedestal Magazine. She has work that will be published in Room.
In Scranton, Pennsylvania, Jack’s Draft House serves its patrons a bi-monthly reading series called Prose in Pubs. The recipe for this stellar event is quite simple: “No microphones. No stage. No fancy cheese.” The organizers declare this on their Facebook page. “Just prose…oh, and beer.” I’m heartbreakingly in.
Unlike those ‘normal’ readings you have attended at bookstores or some dive-y coffee shop, this literary troupe congregates at a pub, because, as Amye Archer, the founder of this assembly says, “[I wanted to] host a reading series that felt like a few friends just hanging out in a pub… I didn’t want people to feel that they had to dress up or be self-conscious in any way.” Prose in Pubs, then, is a success. The laid-back and welcoming qualities of the bar creates an encouraging atmosphere in which we artistically minded folk can feel comfortable and un-judged—a place where we can both work on and celebrate the writing that we do, with an elixir by our fingertips.
“I started Prose in Pubs simply because I found a great venue, and I felt the atmosphere lent itself nicely to an artistic crowd,” Archer explains “The audience and the readers get to share a drink, share stories, and just share space.” Maybe Bukowski had it right all along: bars and booze can be the writer’s muse.
In April, our very own Rae Bryant, author of The Indefinite State of Imaginary Morals, read at Prose in Pubs. But you don’t have to be a published author to attend. Any writer or admirer of the pen can take part in Prose in Pubs. And, many do. Especially when the readers offer a writing workshop for only $20. Add to that the “seriously casual” tone of the workshop—as Archer puts it—and you have a well-attended event in which “a dozen or so writers” gather to ponder “what moves us forward as writers.”
Archer elaborates that “the tone of the workshop is usually set by the invited reader; so, it can go anywhere the writer wants to take it. Sometimes we write and write and write; other times, we talk about process, which can be inspiring in its own right. The workshops usually run for about an hour and a half, but we’ve gone over that length often.” Archer’s literary crowd can listen to and learn from writers of plays, poems, fiction, and nonfiction.
Hopefully, Archer and her colleagues can sustain this gathering that is longingly evocative of the beatnik era, because gone seem to be the days when literature graced more than just coffee shops. It’s fitting, then, that Jack’s also offers music, such as jazz. Ah, bebop. Let the impassioned, howling, and beer guzzling-spurred creativity begin!
Prose in Pubs meets every other month. In June, the reading will have an open-mic session. “The readings are supposed to run for two hours, but everyone usually stays and mingles well into the night,” says Archer. Damn. How cool is that?
So, why not be a Beat and hop a train or catch a ride, and caravan it over to Jack’s Draft House to revel in those enlivening words? As Bryant said, “the group who does this, several talented writers and poets, are a lot of fun to just hang out with, read with, talk craft with.” I’ll see you there. The first round’s on me.
Vipra Ghimire is a student at the Johns Hopkins University’s MA in Writing Program. She has an MPH, and her interests in writing and health care range from felines to tuberculosis. Originally from Kathmandu, Nepal, she’s lived in the US since 1980. Her passion is literature, feminism, animal rights, politics, music, and art. The vast world sometimes frightens her. However, she laughs easily and has been known to say and do many nonsensical things.
Last month, Eckleburg Gallery featured Mark Posey’s paintings. We interviewed Posey to understand more about his creative process, what role art plays in his life, and how these utterly intriguing paintings help him to communicate with the world.
What inspires you to paint?
One of the reasons why I enjoy painting so much is because I deeply value expression. It’s what differentiates us from other animals and helps give us identity. Our DNA is close to 99% identical to that of chimps. It is the small 1% that accounts for the all the triumphs of man, i.e., art, science, technology. I feel like as humans we have been blessed with this 1% advantage and need to make good use of it.
Is there a unique story behind one or more of your pieces?
On my painting ‘Nothing to Lose’, the movement of the nose was completely accidental. I had been working on that painting all night and couldn’t get the nose right. I picked up the painting to move it to a drying rack and I accidentally tilted the painting, causing the wet paint to shift to the right. It looked great, so I kept it!
What is your favorite type of art and why?
As time has passed by, I have grown increasingly fond of abstract art. Abstract painting cuts to the bone of art and expression. Its about mark making, color, and emotion. Though I greatly admire the talents of many realist and representational artists, I grew tired of looking at paintings that were ‘safe’. I want to see someone go wild on his or her canvas. I want to see and experience someone’s raw emotions, and be able to look at a painting and know exactly what they were thinking and feeling. I want to see people taking risks! To look at a painting done by someone who colors inside the lines is just boring for me. Who wants to watch a timid person follow all the rules? Nothing is off limits in art; people should take advantage of that! I want to look at a painting done by an artist that is unpredictable and spontaneous, someone who will keep me on my toes and show me things I have never dreamed of seeing before.
Why do you enjoy looking at art? What do you think makes great art?
One of the reasons why I enjoy looking at art so much is because I feel that it can be an incredibly revealing thing. Everyone leads different lives and has been exposed to different things. Art is able to show those differences in a way that nothing else can. Great art is about the unique spirit of the artist, something that cannot be genuinely duplicated by any other person.
In what ways do you consider art to be its own type of language?
I think that everything, not just art, has the ability to communicate its beauty to you if you give it a chance. One of the reasons why art exists is to remind us of the beauty and creativity that lies within our everyday actions, mistakes included.
In what ways do you feel that art can speak for things that verbal language cannot express?
Many feelings are hard to put into words. Painting speaks for feelings that are often left unsaid. As Kandinsky said, ‘compositions can never be entirely rational, but a balance between reason and intuition.’
What keeps you painting and creating art?
Painting keeps me wondering and imagining. It’s the only way I know how to occupy my time, and is one of the only things I feel I really understand. I find it comforting. The only thing you can do wrong in painting is nothing at all.
Do you feel that painting is something that can be taught, or is it more of following an intuition? Or both?
One thing that really grinds my gears is when people say, ‘I always wanted to be an artist, but I can’t paint at all!’ What I have to say to that is if you really love art, you’ll need to push yourself to get through the first 50 or 100 or even 200 bad paintings before you produce anything worthwhile. Do you think Michelangelo was able to paint the Sistine chapel the first time he picked up a brush? Of course not.
As I write this I am surrounded by paintings of mine that are complete failures. I had high hopes for each one — confident it was going to be my next masterpiece, only to be let down and needing to start from scratch. Being an artist is a commitment that requires a tremendous amount of heartbreak and failure. If you really love it, you will get through it.
As for art being learned or intuitive, I will say that some people are certainly naturally more creative than others, in the same way that some people are naturally better at math. But remember, your brain acts like a muscle, and creativity can be strengthened with training.
Mark Posey’s work has been exhibited in New York, Milan, Tokyo and San Francisco, among other places. Read more at www.markposeyart.com.
“My current art thrives on intuition and spontaneity. I use thick layers of fluid paint to capture my energy, and embrace the unexpected movements of the paint. It is the randomness and an embrace of the unforeseen that makes my art true to my nature and to life itself.”
Like most writers, I find myself very intrigued by opposing desires. I like to explore how several emotions, needs, or ideas can exist inside the human body and mind at once, and what reaction that may cause; or how one need impedes on another. The alcohol, specifically a bottle of vodka, became a metaphor for this exploration in Half Empty Bottle. The descriptions in this poem move back and forth between pleasure and displeasure. At the beginning, there are soothing details like “silk” and a “breeze” followed by the threatening description of the “pinch to the mouth;” then, there is the hopeful image or idea of the “wishing well” followed by the discouraging “bitter rim of flame.” Pleasure is always accompanied by antagonism: the idea of something being comforting or enjoyable, but also having a certain danger to it.
Last month,