August was poetry month in Aotearoa New Zealand, and I participated in two poetry focussed workshops. Each very different that the other.
At the first, we talked about the art of stepping outside of yourself and inhabiting the consciousness of another. We discussed how changing our point of view can stretch our imagination and alter our vocabulary. This led us to explore how changing the habits we develop when writing can clarify our voice.
At the first workshop, we used images from gorgeous glossy art books to inspire our poetry. The first image that caught my eye was the impressionist painting, The Woman with Red Mask by Rufino Tamayo. It portrays a masked dark-skinned woman sitting upright in a chair. She's holding a mandolin and is naked, apart from a red cloth, which folds around her hips and across her lap. The portrait is painted in reds, burnt oranges and blacks (check it out HERE), it’s bold and beautiful and inspired me to write a poem about a woman who although exposed is not seen.
Our next exercise was to write from the perspective of an historical figure or a person at the time of an historical event. I wrote about the fall of the Berlin Wall:
The wall has fallen
Too late for her
The space between exposed
Where bullets had found their target
In tangles of barbed wire
Too late for her
The wall has fallen
The second workshop was a more academic, guided approach to the creation of a poem. We discussed how a poem tells a story in a way that combines meaning with musicality, the importance of a hook that captures the reader, connecting our words creatively with our senses, and using unexpected and interesting imagery.
During the writing exercise, the presenter guided us with verbal prompts to create a poem based on a memory, using a tone of voice I describe as ‘meditative’. It’s not the first time, I’ve been exposed to this approach, where the presenter’s voice is omnipresent stepping us through a set process. Unfortunately, as a visual person, it just doesn’t work for me and at the end of the session all I'd distilled from the three pages of scribbles in my notebook was two lines:
A fin slices through our calm
Rippling the smoothness of the sea.
BUT…in the week that followed...those lines changed and more were added. I took the first draft to my critique group and we joyously played with the sounds and shapes and order of the words. We searched for words that had more than one way of being interpreted and we considered how the rhythm and pace could match the oceanic setting. After several word experiments and edits, I now have a poem that reflects the magic and emotion that lives within that special memory.
So my lesson for this month is that writing workshops, even if they don’t work for me in the moment, will always leave me richer—especially if a friend comes along to share the experience!
At the first, we talked about the art of stepping outside of yourself and inhabiting the consciousness of another. We discussed how changing our point of view can stretch our imagination and alter our vocabulary. This led us to explore how changing the habits we develop when writing can clarify our voice.
At the first workshop, we used images from gorgeous glossy art books to inspire our poetry. The first image that caught my eye was the impressionist painting, The Woman with Red Mask by Rufino Tamayo. It portrays a masked dark-skinned woman sitting upright in a chair. She's holding a mandolin and is naked, apart from a red cloth, which folds around her hips and across her lap. The portrait is painted in reds, burnt oranges and blacks (check it out HERE), it’s bold and beautiful and inspired me to write a poem about a woman who although exposed is not seen.
Our next exercise was to write from the perspective of an historical figure or a person at the time of an historical event. I wrote about the fall of the Berlin Wall:
The wall has fallen
Too late for her
The space between exposed
Where bullets had found their target
In tangles of barbed wire
Too late for her
The wall has fallen
The second workshop was a more academic, guided approach to the creation of a poem. We discussed how a poem tells a story in a way that combines meaning with musicality, the importance of a hook that captures the reader, connecting our words creatively with our senses, and using unexpected and interesting imagery.
During the writing exercise, the presenter guided us with verbal prompts to create a poem based on a memory, using a tone of voice I describe as ‘meditative’. It’s not the first time, I’ve been exposed to this approach, where the presenter’s voice is omnipresent stepping us through a set process. Unfortunately, as a visual person, it just doesn’t work for me and at the end of the session all I'd distilled from the three pages of scribbles in my notebook was two lines:
A fin slices through our calm
Rippling the smoothness of the sea.
BUT…in the week that followed...those lines changed and more were added. I took the first draft to my critique group and we joyously played with the sounds and shapes and order of the words. We searched for words that had more than one way of being interpreted and we considered how the rhythm and pace could match the oceanic setting. After several word experiments and edits, I now have a poem that reflects the magic and emotion that lives within that special memory.
So my lesson for this month is that writing workshops, even if they don’t work for me in the moment, will always leave me richer—especially if a friend comes along to share the experience!
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