Episode 77: What Is the Work of the Artist?
Poet aaron a. abeyta on life as a "channel between despair and hope"
“There it is, salvation. That is the artist’s job.” —aaron a. abeyta, poet
Preview: Episode 77 with aaron a. abeyta
“Do you believe as I do that we are here to save language and therefore the power of the written word?” So writes poet aaron a. abeyta in his newest collection of poems and letters ancestor of fire. In this episode, we talk about the work of the writer, the liberating power of words, the importance of giving voice to what is broken, and how to be open to beauty and power in even the most abysmal of circumstances. On the practical side, aaron talks about his practice of writing on folders, why he uses green ink, the power of repetition, and shares many lines and bits of wisdom from his mentors and literary heroes.
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aaron a. abeyta is a Colorado native and the author of five collections of poetry and one novel. For his book, colcha, Abeyta received an American Book Award and the Colorado Book Award. In addition, his novel, Rise, Do Not be Afraid, was a finalist for the 2007 Colorado Book Award and El Premio Aztlan. abeyta was awarded a Colorado Council on the Arts Fellowship for poetry, and he is the former Poet Laureate of Colorado’s Western Slope and was a finalist for the 2019 Colorado Poet Laureate. Abeyta is also a recipient of a Governor’s Creative Leadership Award for 2017. aaron has over 100 publications in journals, anthologies, textbooks and books. His most recent book, ancestor of fire, was just released by Lithic Press.
abeyta also served as mayor of his hometown, Antonito, for eight years, completing his two terms in April, 2022. aaron, his wife Michele and their daughter, Rut, call Antonito home. Michele and Aaron are co-Directors and founders of The Justice & Heritage Academy, a school based on the three pillars of Environmental, Social and Food Justice.
What We’re Reading and Listening to:
Rosemerry:
Though it is four years old, it’s timeless, this performance by poet Gregory Orr and the art/folk group Parkington Sisters. I have been watching it a lot lately—Gregory Orr’s luminous poetry about loss and the beloved and this fabulous musical collaboration—from the Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival. Soul food.
Many of you know I have been recently obsessed with Vincent van Gogh’s life and art—and such a way to explore them in book form: Desperately Seeking van Gogh … it’s an eye-opening, heart-breaking look into the life of the famous painter. Full of images, pocket-sized, and offering glimpse after glimpse of his life.
Christie:
I finally found a word for an emotion that so often ties me to Rosemerry: freudenfreude (the ability to experience someone else’s positive emotions).
This story about Ukrainian mushroomers gave me hope. “Mushroom hunters may have lost loved ones, but they were not ready to lose the glimpses of their former lives they found in the misty, damp autumnal forests.”
I sort of love Brennan Kilbane’s advice for overcoming writer’s block: try interviewing yourself. “The self-interview is a way to ask myself real questions about whatever I’m working on without it feeling like work,” he writes at Catapult.
Today is December 12 or 12/12, and poor Chris Duffy is not having any luck turning One-Two Day into a holiday.
ekphrasis or konjo
after Exquisite Corpse, 1928
my daughter tells her 2nd grade class
she came to this country
across the atlantic in a basket
stories of Moses Jochebed pharaoh’s daughter
replayed with her as the
child left at river shore
an art professor says
hands and feet are
the most difficult these
artists struggle with hands proportion
dear touch with
hands too large like fire
or burning or loss or
countries with tongues
and mothers forgotten
her eyes my daughter’s
are ancient 60,000 years
in their creation her jawline
80,000 years since its genesis
bodies sectioned
broken by ink rendered
then mended by imagination
may we reflect here
this moment sweet and
broken fire
and what of hands
drawn too small does
this mean their mother
left them in an orphanage
or does it mean
they guide her still
unknowing tender ghosts
that taught love then kindness
then leaving
she says she came here in a basket
we were not at the shore
the shore the shore the shore
of her arrival yet
we open our hands too broken
too small too big
—aaron a. abeyta, from ancestor of fire
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This week, aaron a. abeyta reads “A Letter Regarding the Saint of Broken Things,” and then talks about the letter as art form, trusting the blank, and how it is language helps us reinvent, reinterpret and remake ourselves and life itself. If you are not yet a paid subscriber, you can go now to our website, EmergingForm.substack.com or by clicking the button below. Thank you!
Two Questions:
(share your answers with us here on Substack or in our FB group)
What is the work of an artist?
What kind of ancestor do you want to be?
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Emerging Form is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Emerging Form is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.