(Guest post by Hannah Stephenson)
I was left thinking about what allows an audience to feel immersed after attending a Sufjan Stevens concert two weeks ago. It was truly an entrancing and bliss-inducing spectacle with almost a dozen musicians, silver lamé-outfitted dancers, and a video screen. From the first song of the night, after which he admitted, “Wow, that was dramatic. Hi, I’m Sufjan Stevens, and I’m a drama queen,” the audience was in love with him. I counted no less than four shouted out marriage proposals. It wasn’t only a result of the electro-orchestral songs that poured out of Stevens and his band; he earned much of the audience’s devotion through bodily and emotional commitment to his songs.
How do we, as poets, create this kind of inviting and intimate space for listeners? Most of us don’t have instruments, shiny costumes, or back-up singers (though I have attended readings with go-go dancers!). And audience members typically don’t scream out proposals (except at spoken word poet Shane Koyczan’s readings). How do we show our listeners that we are performing our work for them?
Though we poets have varying performance styles, I do think it is essential to not only perform our work, but to guide our audiences while we read. The poets I have enjoyed watching and listening to most are fully present for their audience; this could mean sharing nerves or admitting imperfections, or expressing pleasure and joy. They take care of of their audiences by leading them through poems, by not lecturing. Poets who are excellent readers succeed at making the private act of reading a public, yet still intimate one.
I love when poets comment on their own process, when they explain where a poem has come from, for them, or how they composed a piece or collection. Many (if not most) poets treat the gaps between poems as an opportunity to chat with the audience. But this between-poem commentary does more than provide humor or behind-the-scenes information. It is a poet’s chance to include listeners in our process as both writers and performers.
I once heard Kevin Connolly read, and was struck by how present he was. He read a line that contained the word “sneeze,” and an audience member sneezed at that exact moment. Everyone laughed, and he smiled, looked up, and interjected, “hey, thanks!” The audience was even more attentive after this moment, knowing how attentive Connolly was to us. Sharon Olds is another poet I remember as being especially mindful of her audience. In this clip, we see her inviting the audience to experience the poem with her, grinning a little and encouraging everyone to laugh at the humor in her words (the audience feels in on the joke). These poets allow space in their readings for audiences to respond (waiting for certain lines to resonate, or pausing with a half-smile for laughter).
Like musicians, we can step outside of the performance to comment on it, while it is happening. At a recent reading, I recall Gabrielle Calvocoressi explaining that she was reading a specific poem (and providing music and images) for the first time, and that this would be an experiment for her. The audience was rooting for her before she began.
As a listener, I feel included in a reading when the poet:
- is not afraid to deviate from his script.
- shares her excitement or discomfort.
- shows awareness of when and where the reading is taking place.
- speaks at a pace that allows the audience to react.
What readings have you attended where you felt that the poet included you? How can a reader show attentiveness to an audience? How else can we learn from performance styles of musicians (besides, of course, bringing a slew of go-go dancers to our readings)?
I agree with you that poets can “create this kind of inviting and intimate space for listeners” and am eager to hear from others about how, and what readings they’ve attended that do! I do think the way to have an attentive audience is to trust and be attentive to them. Be as vulnerable (naked) as you are and feel, and share your joy and delight in what you do! I keep calling it love, and, for me, it is that.
Eager to hear more on the music/poetry performance connections, and Donna Vorreyer’s earlier comment on composing poems as songs makes another connection here.
I love what you say about love and vulnerability (especially in your article yesterday).
Another excellent post. Thank you, Nic, for inviting Hannah to write on this important topic.
The choice of poems to read aloud is also a consideration, because it can be difficult to fully appreciate aery long poems being heard for the first time. Also, if the poet is especially popular (say, a Mary Oliver) and knows her audiences have favorites, allowing time at the end for a favorite or two (via audience request) is a nice touch, as is being willing to answer audience questions.
You’re so right! I’m trying to think if I’ve been at a reading where the poet has taken requests…what a great idea.
Length of poems is very tricky. Too long, like you say, can put listeners to sleep. Too short, and listeners almost don’t have time to sink their teeth into anything.
Here’s my suggestion for increasing infectious I really want to be here vibes from the audience in your direction. Read at least two poems that aren’t yours but were written by two other poets in your audience. You’d have to set it up beforehand, so you can get their permission, practice and give their poems the respect and attention they deserve, but it would be a total win-win-win!
What a great idea! I have never heard/seen this done before. Love this concept, though…it really reinforces community.
This is a great idea. I would love to try this, especially at open mics where the audience is fairly regular. It would be easier to get permission that way and maybe even start a new trend!
I remember the first poetry reading I even went to. I was ten or so, and had just won a prize in my age-category for local summer arts festival’s poetry competition. The reading was for winners of the competition, and included readers from the age of 5 to around 85. Anyway, what I remember was the guy with the chant-like poem who made the audience supply the rhythm by chanting “do, do, do, do, do” while he improvised over top of that. I even remember his opening line: “I really wanna do.” (Have I mentioned this was the 70s?) The fact that I remember that all these years later says a lot, I think. Don’t remember my own reading at all, other than the fact that I was scared shitless beforehand, and afterwards was on Cloud 9. I was hooked!
I agree with you, Hannah. Very good points you make! Joan Murray, former Poet-in-Residence at the New York State Writers Institute is, in my opinion, an ideal public reader of poetry. First because her voice is so luxuriant and expressive. (Not every poet is gifted with such a voice; nevertheless, poets can adapt their voices to best effect for particular poems or venues.) Second because she relishes what she’s doing and wants to be there (the audience can tell). Third because she is affectionate and considerate towards her listeners. Fourth because her graceful hand gestures are so unusual, memorable, a special feature of her readings. Fifth because her poems delve into The Human Condition.
http://www.joanmurray.com
Great points, Hannah. Being an avid concert-goer as well as a poet, when a band can bring me something new with their performance (humor, intensity, improvisation), something that I can’t get in the recording, I am hooked. When The Decemberists perform “The Mariner’s Revenge Song,” they often bring a large whale puppet onstage for the part of the song where the characters are swallowed at sea. At a recent Mumford and Sons show, they were joined by their opening band Cadillac Sky for a veritable “hootenanny” of exuberant jamming, brimming with infectious joy.
One reading I enjoyed immensely included a poet collecting impromptu lines from the audience before the feature and reading an exquisite corpse poem she composed from those lines during the open mic. She shared a newly-birthed thing that could only have been created with those people in that room, and it was exciting.
Choosing your poems ahead of time may be important for a reading, but reading your audience and knowing when to switch gears is also crucial. At a recent reading, the whole open mic was very serious and dark. I dropped any poem with that tone from my list that night and tried to bring a more light-hearted tone to the evening.
One reading I enjoyed immensely included a poet collecting impromptu lines from the audience before the feature and reading an exquisite corpse poem she composed from those lines during the open mic. She shared a newly-birthed thing that could only have been created with those people in that room, and it was exciting.
What a terrific idea! I will have to try this sometime.
I’ve been at several release readings where the editors or jurors read poems for poets unable to attend. I’ve done this myself at Woman Made Gallery in Chicago, reading the Her Mark art/poetry datebook poems for the poets who can’t come to Chicago for the event, since the submissions come from all over the country, and internationally.
And I have a feeling those enthusiastic Seattle poets read each other’s work at events!
@Kathleen – Like!
i get so angry with myself when i read in public and get back to my seat and think, “oh, what just happened?” i’m not talking about making any huge gaffs, but i’m talking about being completely zoned out. it’s a terrible habit, and people can tell. i really make it a goal to be present with the poems. it sounds like a no-brainer, but you’re right: the audience can tell the difference. and it’s easy for us to be thinking about the bills or the laundry. but i love it when for a few minutes, people in the room are together inside the sound of a poem. it’s exquisite when people “show up.”
Here the poet shares so much with the stand-up comic: intimate engagement with the audience and seductive language out loud.