I was poet in residence at the Writers Center at the Chautauqua Institution for Week 8, Summer 1997. I gave a poetry reading, conducted a workshop entitled "Writing Poetry as Mythmaking" and delivered a talk entitled "Jazz Poetry: Function at the Junction." Here are some impressions of my marvelous week there.

Chautauqua -- I kept saying chaw while others said shaw. What vestigial cello torture memory made me think I disliked Brahms? The Brahms played by the Chautauqua Symphony Orchestra led by Marin Alsop spoke to me, with a clarity and modernity (well movingly okay) that astonished. Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98. I also was wild for a piece called Short Set for String Quartet(a tennis reference) by composer Gwyneth Walker played by the Chautauqua Quartet. I lucked up and got a ticket from the brother of the woman who made the connection for me.... the tickets are free and people line up for this starting at 7:30 in the morning. Ticket holders are admitted until 3:50 pm and after that all seats are filled. It was a rainy day and when I left right after the Walker, there were 100 people standing outside in the chilly rain, waiting to get in any seats emptied....wow!

The best audience I ever had at a reading--- they clapped after every poem and it's the first time I ever saw tears in listeners' eyes. I am grateful, I was gratified, such a warm reception to my work, last Sunday at the Writers' Center as I launched my week. One woman said she decided to audit my course based on that reading.

Sunday night there was a "Service of Afro-American Worship and Song" like another welcome, held in the Amphitheater right after I had attended the Buddhist evening prayers. The woman I scooted in next to, shared the lyrics and music with me--- there were no more handouts to be had--- and none of the songs were sung the way I had learned or sung them however, the arrangements were for familiar to this woman and then I saw that she was just a better sight singer than I! LOL! and at the end she gave me the program! A sweet beginning to the week.

The workshop-- I first started talking about Writing Poetry as Mythmaking five years ago and tried to conduct such a workshop locally. I believe I was useful to a number of the participants --- they said so. I at least know I met their expectations-- because before we did anything, I asked them what their expectations were, and checked in on them before we disbandaed yesterday, was it yesterday? Each day at Chautauqua was a month--- I had conferences with individual participants, went to see a film or heard music or a lecture by someone else, walked verywhere in this Brigadoon of art, culture and good will.

Housing-- at the lovely home of soon-to-retire head of the writers' center program, Mary Jean Irion. I stayed at her house named Fernwood on the second floor where I had a kitchen, porch with swing, bedroom and living room. I took as many meals and rests as possible on the porch. Chautuaqua is a porch place where these Victorianesque houses and even the newer apartments are equipped for that semiprivate endeavor of porch sitting. Lots of folks would be out, reading, eating, talking on the porch.

Friendly-- People would pause to chat, people I didn't know, no morning's trot to the Writers Center occured with exchanging good mornings to strangers, biking, strolling, jogging, or assisted walking on the way. I mean-- intitated by them. And the delightful "you're the poet!" that ocassionally rang out.

Films- Do see Kolya and Brassed Off. don't see La Promesse unless you feel indomitably happy secure whole and able to heal from assualts on your sense of well being.

Music -my yen for jazz had to be satisfed with Natalie Cole pastiche of borrowed stylings-- I guess she and I are the same age 'cuase that was my favorite Nancy Wilson album she stole from though Ella's A-tisket A-tasket was never supposed to be sung straight (I mean minus the sense of mischief and wry sly irony and does it even work in an era when children no longer know nursery rhymes and instead sing Barney's tune--I was delighted when the quartet played unadorned by the horns, synthesizers and even the gloriously skilled and able string section.

Energy- how can I even be on-line-I haven't had a weekend in 4 months, not with preparing for Chautauqua and the Festival of Arts Show. I am so glad I did not bring my laptop, nor have I seen TV. I do regret not seeing the end of the Japanese Animé on the Science Fiction Channel.

Talks-- only heard Doris Kearns Goodwin who read from Wait Till Next Year, and Richard Selzer. Both dynamite. compelling, warming.

Art- a crafts fair there where I was taken by a handmade papermaker who quilts/sews fabulous assemblages... glorious and subtle color she's from Mansfield Ohio and was struck by the carved and colored porcelain by a craftsman from West Virginia. At the Center there for Visual Arts like the work of a young sculptor--- a miniature helmeted soldier in a miniature bathtub floating in dark oil in a tin box.

The Lake-- I was told to have a lake experience everyday. Wasn't able to, but how it breathed a sweetness into the night air, sitting beside it, looking at the sailboats at rest, hearing the moorings sound.

Chautauqua- it's 30 dollars a day. even homeowners have to have tickets. the woman who brought a seat to the Cole concert, as I did (thanks to QVC and my Art Festival needs I was equipped) and chatted warmly with me as we sighed and said I like that tune, told me this. Her children don't come see her there much.... it's too expensive. She feels she double taxed. She's from New York City. Since we were both "on the grounds" we did not waste/spend time standing in line to get a seat. But it's a shame she said. People paid the thirty dollars to see this and don't get a seat. They always oversell. We spent time shooing people away from squeezing thin bodies in front of us and blocking our view of the stage. It's gated. Children ride free within its bounds. Lots of children sounding happy, riding bikes in small groups. Reminded me of the last part of my childhood, in Queens, where we lived by the bike, my girl group and I.

There's a daily paper. I was interviewed before my arrival and the article appeared the day of my reading.

John Ciardi (whose How Does A Poem Mean I told workshoppers was a must read) was a Chautauquan, a regular.

It's an experience I want all my friends to have and preferably all of us together, like Paris or Dakar.

Akua's Homepage|ArtFarm|Poems at this Site| Literary Resumé|Papier Maché and Hand Papermaking| Hand Papermaking WebRing|Glassmaking and Jewelry|Creators' Links|ArtFarm Press|Jazz Poetry Bibliography|SHIELD| Art Resumé |