CELEBRATING THE ASPEN WORDS WRITERS IN RESIDENCE PROGRAM- The importance of supporting the creative process
Attending the Aspen Words Book Ball from left to right: Dan Porterfield (President and CEO of the Aspen Institute), Adrienne Brodeur (Executive Director of Aspen Words), me, Daniel (my husband), and Caroline Tory (Managing Director of Aspen Words). Photo: Dan Bayer, courtesy of Aspen Words.
I have a stubborn case of look at me/don’t look at me syndrome. As an artist, my fine art is on full display, and it’s no small joy when people respond to my creative expression. The same goes for my writing. But the thought of public speaking thrusts me into a tight corner with my chorus of inner critics who insist on enumerating my many shortcomings. I curtail their power by rendering them into cartoonish sketches, but they can still be shrill. Recently I had to silence my interior monologue and step out of my comfort zone and onto a stage at the Aspen Words Book Ball. But let me begin with the beginning.
"People rescue each other... We have a real role in how our own collective lives, our nation, and our world and society turn out."
- Rebecca Solnit
For ten years, my husband and I have hosted the Aspen Words Writers in Residence with our partner, Aspen Words. It’s a great collaboration — Aspen Words handles the selection and administration of all of the residents, and we provide the space and solitude to work, along with a vegetable garden. The selected writers come to research or write for three weeks in our barn apartment with a refrigerator full of groceries to get them started. When they are not working, they have access to this valley’s wealth of cultural opportunities and four wilderness areas. Even our dogs participate. They train our residents to supply biscuits when they show up at the back door.
In the Process
All of us struggle with time in a world that seems spinning off its axis. Artists in particular need both space and time to work. Producing great work takes work, and that variable never changes. Which is where the residency comes in. I am married to a writer and producer, and we are passionate about supporting artists in general and the artistic process in particular. Both of us understand how the modern world intrudes and even tramples on creative processes, so transforming a spare apartment into space for a residency seemed like a good idea. Process is an oblique notion, usually hidden from view, and most of us marvel at a finished masterpiece while oblivious to what it takes to get there. The magic comes from the long hours–some blissful, some torturous, all vital–not from shortcuts. But here’s an amazing thing: this Aspen Words Writers in Residence program has wound up serving us. We live in a small community with all of the benefits of rural small-town life, except for one: diversity. The visible part of the community is white, privileged, and geared towards recreation. So welcoming different people and voices into our family, and into our small, wild canyon, has been a blessing. The writers who have flowed through our lives have exponentially opened up our perspectives.
So, back to the talk. Last month Aspen Words honored the Writers in Residence program and the incomparable Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Jericho Brown. I took the stage before his acceptance speech. So that was humbling.
Here is what I said in my speech:
Frankly, we are conflicted about receiving this award. Our relationship with Aspen Words has given far more to us than we have to it.
Through the years, we have hosted 50 novelists, poets, essayists, historians, memoirists, and young adult authors--and each one has expanded our family’s universe. Some of the writers have become our good friends. One of our residents even turned out to be an 8th cousin. This residency has reinforced the importance of artistic process and underscores the power of hospitality.
We are all aware of how our beloved valley is in peril -- in peril of becoming a monoculture, a place that is too precious and exclusive. Literature and nonfiction keep different voices and stories in circulation and are the best antidotes to prejudice and ignorance. When we take words and stories for granted, we do so at the risk of diminishing our intellect, our collective curiosity, our freedom of expression. And our sense of community. The debacle at The Aspen Times is a perfect example of this.
When I went to college eons ago, my father left me with a letter of advice — what he called his 16 corollaries to the ten commandments. Top of his list? Never pass up an opportunity to pee. My father was always a pragmatic soul. But number 14 is equally good. “You never know as much as you think you do -- don’t be seduced by your own voice. Listen and ask questions.” Aspen Words brings SO many voices, SO many perspectives to this valley and that keeps us all listening. To stories. To excellent journalism. To sublime poetry.
My parents believed that hospitality was a verb and the exchange of diverse views was essential to human evolution and potential. So thank you, Jessica and Henry, for showing us the way. We want to thank Adrienne and Caroline, the Aspen Words board, this amazing room of supporters — honestly it is an honor to be here with you — and everyone at Aspen Words for a seamless partnership. Aspen Words — you keep knitting this community together. We need words to bind us now more than ever.
I stepped off the stage in one piece, internal critics kicked to the curb. At least temporarily.
Here is the poem Jericho Brown read to the audience:
The water is one thing, and one thing for miles.
The water is one thing, making this bridge
Built over the water another. Walk it
Early, walk it back when the day goes dim, everyone
Rising just to find a way toward rest again.
We work, start on one side of the day
Like a planet’s only sun, our eyes straight
Until the flame sinks. The flame sinks. Thank God
I’m different. I’ve figured and counted. I’m not crossing
To cross back. I’m set
On something vast. It reaches
Long as the sea. I’m more than a conqueror, bigger
Than bravery. I don’t march. I’m the one who leaps.
Every artist knows that they occupy a peculiar space. The world often thinks the arts are quaint, or superfluous, or the provenance of extremely wealthy patrons, or at worst, some sort of charade. This is why arts education and arts advocacy are critical not only to our survival but also to society’s survival. But we also have to support individual artists in any way we can. By showing up in any way possible, however possible.
If you are interested in the nuts and bolts of starting your own residency, here is an excellent resource: Alliance of Artist Communities. All you have to do is show up.