Jane Eaton Hamilton

"At the bottom of the box is hope." – Ellis Avery.

Tag: Eileen Myles

Writing the body body body

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sketch: Jane Eaton Hamilton 2016

Michele Filgate talks to Anna March, Ruth Ozeki, Eileen Myles, Porochista Khakpour, and Alexandra Kleeman about writing the body. I so wanted to attend this panel, so I’m glad to be able to read it and share it now. Writing the body fantastic, folks. From LitHub.

Writing the Body: Trauma, Illness, Sexuality, and Beyond

Eileen Myles Animated

Eileen Myles

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The irreduceable Eileen Myles interviewed in her East Village apartment by Ben Lerner:

Eileen Myles in Conversation

Eileen Myles by Rachel Munroe:

After 19 Books and a Presidential Bid, Eileen Myles Gets Her Due

New Republic interview

NaPoWriMo

I’ve never participated in any writing intensives, but this month I have been writing a poem every day for National Poetry Month.  It’s been fun experimenting at the edge of form and from intriguing prompts.   I would never have written these poems otherwise.  I have written on the Tar Sands, on being given up for dead as a 2-year-old, about being in NYC for Hurricane Sandy, about a magician on the metro in Paris, a poem made up of ten lies, a poem to something inanimate, and so on.  Catch the New York School prompt, below, for a great example of what we’ve been challenged with.

The other terrific part has been participating as a group member with 17 extremely talented Canadian poets–their support has been invaluable, their talent and skill breath-taking.  To read their work day after day?  Priceless.  (For everything else, there’s MC.)

This challenge has been completely and utterly exhausting.  I will be glad when it’s over next week.  Really, really glad.

To quote Thom Donovan, whose guidelines we used for the New York School poem:

“It is a “recipe” or constraint of sorts for writing a New York School poem (my class read James Schuyler, Bernadette Mayer, Charles Bernstein, and Dorothea Lasky—a heterodox selection, I realize; and listened to Eileen Myles, Schuyler, Robert Creeley, and Ron Padgett via PennSound).

“Students were encouraged to use as many of the following “ingredients” as possible:

  1. at least one addressee (to which you may or may not wish to dedicate your poem)
  2. use of specific place names and dates (time, day, month, year)–especially the names of places in and around New York City
  3. prolific use of proper names
  4. at least one reminiscence, aside, digression, or anecdote
  5. one or more quotations, especially from things people have said in conversation or through the media
  6. a moment where you call into question at least one thing you have said or proposed throughout your poem so far
  7. something that sounds amazing even if it doesn’t make any sense to you
  8. pop cultural references
  9. consumer goods/services
  10. mention of natural phenomena (in which natural phenomena do not appear ‘natural’)
  11. slang/colloquialism/vernacular/the word “fuck”
  12. at least one celebrity
  13. at least one question directed at the addressee/imagined reader
  14. reference to sex or use of sexual innuendo
  15. the words “life” and “death”
  16. at least one exclamation/declaration of love
  17. references to fine art, theater, music, or film
  18. mention of genitals and body parts
  19. food items
  20. drug references (legal or illegal)
  21. gossip
  22. mention of sleep or dreaming
  23. use of ironic overtones”

NaPoWriMo

Western Front

Just finished two days at “There are reasons for looking and feeling and thinking about things that are invisible: a two day event on New Narratives in art writing” at Western Front featuring Eileen Myles, Jacob Wren, Lynne Tillman and Maria Fusco. This was on many levels a satisfying and intriguing mini-conference, exactly what I needed to organize inchoate thoughts around the intersection of art/art writing/literature, and past that, to begin to shape my lecture about the process of creation. If there was a cohering theme, it might have been unity–of purpose, of mind, of perception.  How to look attentively at a mouse, power, a breakup, a relationship, a therapist, a life ebbing, artworks.  Their tricks of alchemy were, it seemed to me, divisable by accretion and allusion. 

I could have wanted visual artists to join these four–but that is not a comment on what they were able to extend to us, but rather simple gluttony. The presentations were taped, so they will be available (I don’t know details). Below: Wren, Myles.  Apologies for no second photograph of Tillman and Fusco, but I was not seated advantageously.  Thanks to Alex Leslie for letting me know about this event.

Wren:Myles

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