Excerpts From Interviews With Mark Doty Essay Example

to the second part of your inquiry regarding my aspirations for my own writing. In recent times, I have predominantly delved into deeply personal subject matter.

These poems capture my own experiences of grief and aim to resonate with readers who have also experienced the fleeting nature of what we hold dear - at least, that is my hope! Poets strive to uncover points of connection within personal experiences and to share them with readers. In a way, these poems are both social and political as they tackle the impact of the AIDS epidemic, which is a highly-charged, politically-defined phenomenon that has greatly affected my life.

However, the poems take a personal approach to this task, focusing on everyday experiences rather than larger societal issues. I desire my own poems to shift towards a more social perspective, addressing the common conditions of American life during our uncertain times. I am currently struggling to navigate this direction, attempting to discuss public life without relying on public language. My goal is to confront and explore the fears and concerns that currently consume me. This endeavor feels risky since many American poets refrain from writing political poems due to feelings of inadequacy and a lack of authority or connection to broader social perspectives. Although I do not see myself becoming a poet who solely advocates for a specific cause or writes in a polemical manner, I cannot justify focusing solely on personal matters when there is so much happening around us that demands attention. On that note, Wunderlich and I will further discuss the idea of politics in poetry and explore how a poem can serve as a suitable medium

for expressing political subjects. We will consider what unique qualities poetry possesses when engaging with political subjects that other forms of writing or discourse cannot accomplishI think the reason behind this might have to do with how poetry captures the reader's attention. Doty has been discussing this topic extensively in various written pieces. One example is an essay published in the Boston Review during the summer, where he responds to Harold Bloom's introduction to the Best of the Best American Poetry collection. Additionally, he has engaged in a printed exchange with his friend J. D. McClatchy, which will be featured in the upcoming edition of the James White Review.

Influenced by my generation, my perspective on political poetry acknowledges the connection between personal experiences and political issues. When I use the term "political poetry," I am referring to poems that recognize how individuals' sense of identity is shaped by their interactions with society. While such poems may not directly address specific events like the crisis in Bosnia or America's mishandling of the AIDS epidemic, they may touch upon these subjects.

Although it goes beyond merely occupying the space of the lyric "I," this text is subtly interested in the interaction between self and history. Hence, many of my favorite poems are political poems. For instance, Bishop's "The Moose" brilliantly depicts an outsider who, separated from the constant voices of her family in the background of the bus, unexpectedly feels a mysterious connection and joins a community that is in awe of the unfamiliar.

The speaker in the proem to "The Bridge" experiences more than just a feeling of existential loneliness. They wait in the cold "under the shadows

of Thy piers" for a specific reason, related to their identity as a sexual other. The presence of the bridge's great steel rainbow above them is not accidental; their otherness is a necessary component that contributes to the joy they find in the bridge's promise of transcendence. These poems have the ability to explore the rich imaginative space of internal connection, something that discursive writing cannot achieve. They engage with the challenging reality of self in relation to the world.

In my perspective, the concept of a purely aesthetic quality lacks belief. Instead, aesthetics always serves as a response, an embodiment, a defiance against external pressures, or a reinterpretation of the narratives we encounter. I also concur that it aims to captivate the reader not through our opinions but by establishing an emotional connection with the world and acknowledging the inseparable bond between ourselves and culture within a specific time period. [... .] Wunderlich: I am intrigued to know your rationale behind why you believe poetry continues to flourish as an art form in today's era. Personally, I hold the view that filmmaking could be deemed as the most flawless art form: It integrates visual imagery, sound, music, spoken dialogue, actors, and other elements.

Despite the wide range of art forms available, people continue to gravitate towards poetry. According to Doty, poetry does not have the all-encompassing nature of film, which captures and monopolizes the viewer's attention. It also lacks the immediate impact of painting or the unique combination of aesthetics and tangible reality found in photography. With our current fascination with multimedia art that aims to create a seamless experience for the audience, one might expect

poetry to lose its appeal. However, this is far from true. In my opinion, although poetry remains a minority preference, it is flourishing.

There is a noticeable increase in audience attendance for readings and the publication of poetry. This suggests a genuine interest and appreciation for the art, especially among young individuals. The cause of this trend remains uncertain. However, I personally believe that poetry offers a special way to express one's subjectivity. A skillfully crafted poem reflects the unique nature of its author, allowing readers to delve into their uniquely peculiar perspective. There seems to be a longing for individuality, as people seek out aspects of themselves that cannot be bought or sold.

In a time when everything seems to be the same all over the world, with desires being shaped on a global scale (the Gap store in Houston is no different from the one in Kuala Lumpur), poetry can offer a truly distinct experience. Unlike other popular art forms of our era such as film, video, and architecture that involve collaboration, poems are always created in isolation, often on the fringes of society. If they are successful, they are infused with the rich texture of a life experienced uniquely. (source: The Cortland Review, December 1998)

Katie Bolick Bolick: Discussing your book [Firebird], you reflect on your early fascination with beauty, sparked by your sister's collection of shiny trinkets: crepe and tulle, glittery ribbons, and "scraps of sheer and sparkled treasure." Can you elaborate on your childhood understanding of beauty? How has your perception of beauty and artifice evolved over time?
Doty: In my early years, I quickly grew tired of the plainness I observed

in the clothes, toys, and assigned roles for young boys. I failed to see a promising future in that realm.

The contents of my sister's special drawer of souvenirs emitted a fragrance reminiscent of something different - enthusiasm, playfulness, and freedom. These items held a certain beauty for me because they stirred up alternative possibilities, something clandestine and off-limits yet teeming with vitality. I grew up in a disconnected suburban environment, moving from one town to another. It seemed to me that there was scant enchantment or inspiration, lacking opportunities to stimulate our inner beings and ignite our potential. In essence, there was a dearth of art and an abundance of pragmatism, with lifestyles shaped by social and economic necessity or aspirations.

My affection for the shiny objects in the drawer seems to have been an initial manifestation of desire - a yearning for life to hold greater significance. If not for subsequent developments, I may have pursued a career as a drag queen instead of becoming a poet! My connection to artifice has evolved in intricately nuanced manners. The young boy captivated by his sister's concealed drawer possesses an appreciation for superficial attractiveness. Presently, the kind of beauty that captivates me is one that unveils aspects of a person's character - frequently flawed, yet deeply intimate.

I am fascinated by the ways in which individuals transform themselves or their surroundings - creating order and harmony amidst the chaotic and uncertain. Take, for example, a character from Firebird, an elderly gentleman I encountered during my teenage years. This man constructed a personal sanctuary called The Valley of the Moon. He utilized shattered dishes, cement, remnants of

old toys, and desert stones to construct a rendition of paradise. This space aimed to symbolize and perhaps conserve innocence.

Although it appeared messy and disorganized, it struck me as remarkably beautiful, a unique expression of someone's personal taste in the world. Bolick interviewed Doty about his poems, which are known for their lyrical language and attention to detail. They have faced criticism for being too focused on adjectives and embellishments, as one reviewer recently stated. Doty reflects on the resistance to visually appealing elements in his work, acknowledging a preference for simplicity and directness often being associated with truth.

I am doubtful of the notion that simplifying reality is the most effective way to depict it. I believe language falls short in capturing the intricate and ever-changing nature of reality, making it challenging to fully comprehend and express. Instead, I propose that reality can be alluded to and explored through diverse stylistic approaches. In the title poem of my book Atlantis, a collection of sections revolves around a central theme representing inherently indescribable experiences.

However, I attempt to convey my message in various ways. I experiment with plain and conversational language, as well as elevated and formal language. I explore different narrative styles, lyrics, and metaphors. While formal density is a strategy used in both Atlantis and Sweet Machine, there are also poems in both books that are straightforward and direct. An example of this is "The Embrace" from my latest book, which uses plain language that suits the seriousness of the occasion. Nevertheless, I would not want every poem to be so uncompromisingly plain in its approach.

The criticism of "word-stitchery" is intriguing due to its

gendered nature. Instead of being praised for the craftsmanship of words, it is seen as something feminine and trivial compared to the straightforwardness of plain speech, which is considered more masculine and valuable. As someone who identifies as queer, I am fascinated by the various surfaces created and the inherent dissonance between those surfaces and their underlying meanings. Bolick, I am particularly interested in your exploration of rupture – the cracks on the surface and the shattered facade.

The metaphor of a crack in a delicate cup soldered with a seam of gold is used in Heaven's Coast to illustrate how loss shatters and transforms us. This notion of fractured beauty has always intrigued me, even before experiencing grief. I have always been attracted to things that are not whole, that exhibit some indication of limit or failure. Perhaps it is because I believe this kind of beauty is attainable for me. Moreover, there may be profound psychological origins to this fascination. We all encounter a disjunction early on between our interiority and how others perceive us, which is one of the fundamental social experiences. Typically, this realization occurs when we begin school around the age of six.

The text suggests that there may be further implications for gay children, as they learn that they possess a significant difference that may not be visible to others. The discussion earlier on the contrast between surface and core seems to originate from this fascination. Consider the numerous gay boys who grow up and become deeply involved in matters such as decor, appearance, staging, and style. These activities all revolve around recognizing the tension between what something truly is and

how it appears to be – a sort of rupture. This perspective is taken from an interview with Michael Glover titled "Fallen Beauty" in Atlantic Unbound - www.theatlantic.com/unbound/interviews/ba991110.tm. In the interview, Glover recalls reading a book by an exceptional young American poet named Mark Doty two years ago.

He was completely unknown in this country. His poetry had a compassionate, lyrical urgency along with a descriptive and metaphorical power that was more thrilling than anything I had read from America since the death of Robert Lowell in the 1970s. Doty recently visited Britain to stay at the Arvon Foundation in Totleigh, Devon, where he stayed in a converted pigsty and taught poetry to aspiring poets, just as he does at the University of Utah.

He is a professional, tenured poet, which is a common occupation in the United States but rare and sometimes viewed with suspicion here. His schedule at Utah includes teaching two days a week from January to June, but he earns the majority of his income from workshops and fees for poetry readings, as well as grants and book royalties. He describes his time in Devon as "very intense," where he worked closely with 16 student poets, conducting workshops, discussing poems, and engaging in writing exercises.

Some may argue that spending excessive time thinking and talking about poetry is detrimental to a poet's creativity. Shouldn't they have experiences outside of poetry to draw inspiration from? When we met at the Poetry Society in London's Covent Garden, he shared that "what's good is that I get to participate in a conversation about the art." He expresses this sentiment in a soft yet persistent tone. While acknowledging

the difference between discussing poetry and actually writing it, he believes that the dialogue between teacher and student nurtures him as a writer.

He appreciates having a structured connection with individuals and their narratives, witnessing their efforts to express themselves on paper. According to him, reading poetry to crowds enhances his writing skills. He acquires knowledge of new poems while reciting them out loud. Reading to an audience changes the way he listens - it feels like a part of him is in that audience, attentively absorbing the words of the new poem. Weaker lines, glitches, and rhythmic issues become apparent during this process, aiding in the revision phase.

The act of truly experiencing poetry occurs when a reader is alone with a book. This solitude allows for pausing, reflecting, and daydreaming about the words on the page. When a poem is read aloud in a poetry reading, only the surface of the poem is conveyed. To fully comprehend the depth and intricacies of a good poem, it requires multiple readings.

The speaker identifies himself as a literary writer who values complexity and rich language. He believes that his poetry cannot be fully appreciated in one hearing. However, he ponders why poetry holds such value and importance to humanity. He explains that poetry is a condensed expression of an individual's unique identity amidst a world that tends to homogenize experiences. As an example, he mentions encountering a branch of Staples, an American office supply chain, in Devon. This represents the universalization and standardization of various aspects of life. Poetry stands as a resistance against this phenomenon.

Poetry can be commodified and sold to some extent, but it can also

be easily replicated, published online, memorized, and owned by multiple individuals. A poem is essentially a representation of a unique personal experience of understanding. Each person has their own way of knowing and their own voice and perspective, which makes the poem uniquely theirs. Therefore, poems constantly bring the self to the forefront in a deeply valuable way.

In this sense, poetry creates a global community of internal lives. I hope that it continues to prioritize interiority. However, a poem cannot solely exist in the internal world. If it did, it would be no more than a personal journal entry or purely solipsistic. The best poems reach out to include readers and serve as models for the merging of interiority and exteriority, showcasing the self in a community. This is something to celebrate.

Doty's voice has a Southern tone, reflecting his familial roots.

His mother's family, who were Irish immigrants that emigrated during the potato famine, established themselves in Sweet-water, Tennessee. My great-grandmother recollected journeying in the rear of a covered wagon from Georgia to Tennessee, escaping from Sherman's return march. They were impoverished millet farmers. Doty's parents departed from the rural South at the onset of World War II.

His father's occupation as an army engineer meant that his family frequently relocated, often in different regions of the South and West, never staying in one place for too long. As a result, he grew up with the belief that home was something one had to create or carry within themselves. He developed a fondness for books during his upbringing because they provided consistent companionship and could be taken anywhere. At the age of 16, Doty met a poet

and realized that poetry could offer a fulfilling way of life. He decided to attend the University of Tucson, Arizona, but eventually dropped out and got married at 18. He pursued a career in teaching, completed his education, and even took an intensive poetry course. It wasn't until 1981 that he fully accepted his homosexuality. Discontent with a miserable and stifling marriage, he set off for Manhattan with only $600 in his possession.

«I started working as a secretary,» he comments, «and began what felt like a genuine existence since, in my early twenties, I, like numerous gay men from my era, had been running away from my own sexuality. I had to resolve issues pertaining to my identity before I could embark on a life that was based on something more genuine.. .» He managed to get two poetry collections published. However, his life and work were profoundly transformed when he discovered that his partner, Wally Roberts, was HIV-positive. Wally's subsequent deteriorating health, which ultimately led to his demise in 1994, profoundly influenced Doty's art much like how the personal and horrific experience of war influenced Wilfred Owen's work 80 years ago.

Doty's poetry collections, My Alexandria and Atlantis, along with his prose memoir Heaven's Coast, all reflect the impact of AIDS. Doty describes AIDS as "the great intensifier," and his poetry increasingly explores the anguish and complexity of facing imminent death. As Doty's partner, Wally, declined, they settled in Provincetown on Cape Cod's tip. In Doty's poems, this little town, with its salt marsh and shifting dunes, symbolizes the idea of transience. I asked Doty how his poetry and perception of Provincetown have changed since

Wally's passing; he still resides there for six months every year.

Once the threat is eliminated, what follows thereafter? The poems I've composed in the previous two years no longer center around sorrow, but rather on rediscovering a path into society and restoring our connection with existence. These fresh poems have a more outward perspective as they aren't consumed by the desperate battle against death. I am now shifting my attention towards other concerns.

The narrator expresses that Provincetown appears different to them now, with various colors, music, and a distinct harmonic character. They have spent less time there in the past two years to distance themselves from its intense and small-town nature. Provincetown holds significant personal history for the narrator, including their relationship with Wally and the loss of many acquaintances within a short span. Despite only residing there for seven years, it feels as if they have lived there for decades. The community's character is also evolving; previously attracting those who didn't expect to live long, it now sees fewer individuals moving there with the intention to die due to new drugs and a more hopeful stance on the epidemic.

When questioned about his political views, Doty surprisingly lacks confidence and fluency in his response. He admits to consistently voting Democrat but reveals that his true inclination aligns closer with libertarianism. Although he has been politically engaged primarily with gay issues, Doty believes his writing is the best way to utilize his energy instead of organizing. He clarifies that this doesn't necessarily mean writing overtly political poetry.

The reason behind this is as follows. My approach to writing has largely been driven by the desire to make

new discoveries while composing a poem. If I already knew what I thought or felt, I would be less motivated to write, as I rely on the energy generated from uncovering my thoughts and emotions about any given topic. Consequently, this makes writing political poetry – especially when it is explicitly political – particularly challenging.