Dear Reader, it is difficult to deny that a side of art making is fatally concerned with the poetic grace of the gesture – it is expected that a work should exude a cosmic and ineffable air.
Regardless of your medium, I hope this glance into the minds of two established poets from very different walks of life can help dissipate the intimidating mist between process and product, as well as remind you that the transcendent and the familiar are often one in the same.
Global spectator Meena Alexander recognizes that even in the grand art of poetry is a desire to express what cannot be said through its own means. After eight books of poems and a lifetime of travel, Alexander continues to defend her craft as the most ordinary of entities, no more inexplicable than a child’s obvious and impossible sense of language or rhythm.
New York-based Eileen Myles approaches poetry from a reserved and humble perspective, with the intent of striking a tasteful balance between metaphysical grandeur and the habitual rhythm of the everyday.
Myles, a breathing artistic currency, treats poetry as an extension of the self with the potency of a movement and the collective memory of a civilization. Myles proves that common experience and abstract phenomena are synonymous when we step back to look.
If the weight of the world seems so immense that the few strands of creativity cannot unravel, the Mayer Foundation offers emergency funding for New York artists facing economic, residential or medical turbulence. Proposals may be submitted at any time, with over two thousand dollars granted to those with concrete objectives and a levelheaded art plan.
It is easy to forget that behind the polished mirror of history is a messy and cumulative reality. There is little difference between the intelligentsia of years past and the friends sitting at your dining room table. For the Silo, Brainard Carey.
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