Creativity Salon: an Interview with Uma Krishnaswami

Welcome to Bookjoy Creativity Salon, Uma! I so enjoyed the video on your site about your new book, Out of the Way! Out of the Way!  Actually, I learned from each of the sections on your visually-appealing site

To begin, Uma, please tell us a bit about yourself.

I was a klutzy kid and I am now a klutzy adult. I love cats, and the colors purple and green. I like hiking, especially if rocks are involved. I knit when I revise, and I have graduated from scarves to socks. I am a very messy writer, and I throw away more words than I keep. Is that more than anyone might want to know?

1. You are from India and now live in New Mexico (though I didn’t know that until I spent time on your site). How has living in the United States affected your creative life and process?

I was born in India and live in the United States. This experience allows me to create a mental geography beyond one place. I’ve forged an identity that lets me cross national and cultural borders. It’s made me profoundly grateful for the many people on two continents who have supported and encouraged me to tell the stories that matter to me. I’ve seen the children’s and YA publishing industry in the US open its doors over the years to culturally grounded writing, so that I, a nobody in the writing universe, could dare to aspire to publication.

2. Your new book was previously published in India and has now been published by wonderful Groundwood Books, a press I admire. How has the publishing process been different?

The editorial process with Indian publisher Tulika Books was quite different from what I was used to. For one thing, even though I was corresponding with a single editor, I realized that all decisions were made in community, with many editorial meetings underlying each question raised. There was no one “editor” for my book—they all worked on everything. You’d think that might result in a hopeless muddle, but it was quite the reverse. Everything was deeply embedded in a vision for the work that went beyond individual opinions. The insights I gained from those exchanges led me away towards a stronger story with a longer reach.

3. In the video of Out of the Way! Out of the Way! You mention issues of plot and action. Do you see a move in U.S. children’s published away from “quiet books,” and a growing interest action, action, action?

Yes, especially in the realm of picture books. That saddens me. We live in such a frenetically paced world, that it seems all the more important for young children to learn the joys of stillness and quiet. But then I see books like Ashley Bryan’s glorious renderings of hymns, or Janet Wong’s Hide and Seek, and I think maybe there’s hope.

4. You also teach writing for children and young adults in Vermont College’s MFA program. Your web site section “Tips & Tools for Writers” has so much good advice. I particularly smiled at the last item, the witty note in which you reject an editor’s rejection letter. Is accepting rejection the most difficult challenge your students face?

In our business, oddly enough, lasting professional relationships, even deep friendships, can spring from criticism and rejection! But I think the most difficult challenge is to let go of one’s own words—to understand that the first words that come to mind may not last. They may reflect some mirage of the story that the author is still chasing. I tell my students to let go of the words, but not of the impulse that made the story bubble up in the first place.

5. What do you enjoy reading, Uma?

I often read three or four books simultaneously. In contemporary children’s and YA literature I like to read a sampling of books published outside the US as well, so I don't get bogged down in a kind of “marketplace” mentality. I mix that up with books for grownups, to keep my mind flexible and open to options in my own writing. I’ve just finished Ursula Dubosarsky’s marvelous middle grade novel, The Golden Day, and am now reading The Art Forger by B.A. Shapiro and rereading Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel.

Creativity Salon: an Interview with Illustrator David Gardner

Welcome to Bookjoy Creativity Salon, David! I love the visuals on your site! Although we never get to visit enough in person, I’m so pleased that you and I both live in Santa Fe.


David, please tell us a bit about yourself.

Thanks so much, Pat. Let's see. . . I grew up in Memphis, Tennessee. I got my Film degree from Northwestern near Chicago, was a touring puppeteer based in Atlanta, a production assistant on the old TV show Solid Gold in L.A. and an artist for Walt Disney Studios there, too, on movies like Beauty and the Beast. I still do animation, in addition to illustrating children's books. The Harvey Milk Story  was my first picture book, and I got hooked.

I’m always curious about when visual artists began their art. Did you draw as a child? If yes, what was your family’s and teachers’ reactions to your art work?

One of my earliest memories is of my parents taking my three sisters and me to the theater to see Disney’s The Sword and the Stone, the first movie I sat still for instead of chasing my little sister up and down the aisle. I got kind of obsessed by that magic -- moving paintings! -- and my mom and my pre-school teacher were happy to oblige. Jumbo Crayolas and a coloring book were my "gateway drug." From there, I went on to drawing my own pictures, copying cartoon characters, mostly. My parents and teachers encouraged me, thank goodness. They made it possible for me to see the value in being creative. In first grade, Mrs. Hester thumbtacked my drawings on the corkboard border all around the classroom -- so of course I kept on drawing!

Tell us about your new book, Sarah Gives Thanks. How did the project evolve, what particular challenges did you face, and how did you solve them?

Sarah Josepha Hale was this powerhouse I'd never even heard of, a young widow, a successful poet, novelist, editor of writers like her friends Poe and Emerson, raising five kids on her own. Mike Allegra's manuscript moved me from the first paragraph.

One challenge was to capture her strong personality, dainty and forceful all at once. I kept her moving as much as possible, energetic, almost athletic, while wearing some bit of lace or a flowery shawl. Showing the passage of time was another challenge. I relied on costumes, sets, showing Sarah aging from eight to eighty, and showing her children growing up alongside her. Research was probably the biggest challenge. Books from our local library were essential, as always, for clothing history, architecture, hairstyles. I have stacks of printouts of details I found online, from Boston Harbor, 1832, to the size of a woman's bustle in 1863. I had to get every detail just right -- I owe that to the kids (and there are teams of sharp-eyed librarians out there, I'm told!).

Published by Albert Whitman, 2012

On your web site, Flying Dog Studio, you have the words illustration, animation and fine art? Do you enjoy creating each of these equally? How is each process different for you?

I do enjoy all three, for different reasons. With fine art, I can get lost easily, in the flow. It's relaxing to paint something that's right in front of me, and it informs everything else I do. Animation and illustration meant to so much me as a kid, I love carrying that forward. Reaching a broad audience is gratifying, too. But unlike fine art, I have to dive into my imagination while keeping someone else's story and production or printing guidelines in mind. It's a fun puzzle. Ultimately, all three forms are about storytelling for me, telling a story with pictures.

How do you like to relax, David?

Sitting on the back porch with a cup of coffee and a good book, the clouds skipping over the mountains. Heaven! And curling up with my partner and catching up on John Adams and Downton Abbey. These amazing, perfect blends of history and melodrama, they just whisk me out of my day for a while. Oh, and visiting with you is very relaxing, Pat!

Creativity Salon: an Interview With Poet Diana Garcia

Welcome to Bookjoy Creativity Salon, Diana! It was such a pleasure to meet and hear you at AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs) in Chicago last March. Your words about me at our panel were incredibly generous. I treasure them. Among other talents, you are a poet, a professor, and a committed advocate.

Diana, please tell us a bit about yourself.

“The biggest influences on me probably are being born to parents who worked in the fields and who were living in a labor camp when I was born. The camp and the people who lived and worked in the camp served as my earliest role models for what it is to live an honorable, hard-working life. At the end of your life, all you have is your reputation as a hard worker and the respect of those you worked with. Then, the San Joaquin Valley engraved its dry flatness on my consciousness. From an early age, I understood the importance of rain, the lack of rain when needed, the overabundance of rain at the wrong time. I reflect often on water and its many and various aspects. Finally, becoming a single mother when I was 20, struggling with the powerlessness of having to rely on welfare to make ends meet, filled me with a rage that's never completely left me. I discovered the tone deafness of those who have always known a privileged existence. It also makes me deeply grateful for all that I now have: a patient, generous husband and partner; parents, son and grandsons who make me proud to be part of the clan; and a university where I can teach what I've learned about writing and about living.”

Let me begin by asking about your work as a poet. You wrote the collection, When Living Was a Labor Camp, published in 2000. Such a moving title. Can you tell us about the impetus for that collection?

I wrote When Living Was a Labor Camp out of a deep commitment to the generations of farm workers whose sacrifices weren’t represented adequately in the poetry I read in the 1990s. In my own family, one uncle was poisoned and died after picking tomatoes in a field that had been sprayed with pesticides. Another uncle, a former bracero whose permit had expired, was picked up during Operation Wetback in the 50s and 60s and returned to Mexico. In both cases, the men left behind women who struggled to raise children on their own. I also wanted to capture the perseverance of the generations that followed, the children and grandchildren whose lives were impacted by prejudice. Finally, I wanted to write a book that my parents and my aunts and uncles could read, hear and understand and know their lives, and those of their children, were being honored.

In what ways does creativity shape your work and your life?
I have always trusted my response to the natural world, that sense of self that is best reflected by moments in nature. Similarly, when I write, I feel a sense of connectedness to the world around me, to the expressions and experiences reverberating in the world. Writing also is like intellectual weight lifting for me. Much as a sturdy weight lifting workout leaves me drained and tranquil, a good bout of writing leaves my brain strangely emptied and refreshed.

I know you teach an upper division course, Social Action Writing. How did that course evolve and can you tell us a bit about it?
California State University Monterey Bay, established in 1994, is the first university in the CSU system to require 30 hours of service learning at each of the lower and upper division levels. Within our interdisciplinary humanities and communication major, two such courses, “Social Action Writing” and “Creative Writing and Service Learning” (originally titled “Creative Writing for Teachers”), were developed as part of our creative writing and social action program. The focus is on learning as much as it is on service. We value the commitment our neighboring communities—Seaside, Salinas, Marina, Monterey and Pacific Grove—made to converting the former Ft. Ord to a university. Not just communities, but the neighboring counties of San Benito and Santa Cruz were also involved. We want our students to learn from this level of civic engagement, this commitment to the issues affecting our neighbors and colleagues. In “Creative Writing and Service Learning,” students focus on using creative writing to engage children’s creativity and imagination in after school and community school programs. In “Social Action Writing,” depending on the theme that semester, students might work with community partners examining substandard housing, pesticide poisoning, educational inequality, or the peace movement. Our partnerships are on-going and a vital part of our students’ education.

In a political introduction recently, Obama was described as “burning on the inside” referring to his passion for a just nation. Though I was only with you briefly, my sense is that Diana Garcia also burns on the inside. Am I right?
Injustices of any kind anger me, especially since in most cases, injustice is leveled by those with power against those who are voiceless and powerless.

What were you like as a child and what advice would you have given to that young, beautiful self?
As a child, I was a bookworm, reclusive, and living in a world of my imagination. I imagined a world of books, of teaching, of travel. I never would have imagined that all my dreams would come true, and then some!

Creativity Salon: an Interview with Metal Artist Anna Jaquez

Anna Jaquez

Welcome to my Bookjoy Creativity Salon, Anna. You and I are both from El Paso, and you teach art at UTEP where I taught part-time and was an administrator. I feel so fortunate to have met you on recent visits and am amazed by the art you produce. Miniatures in metal, no less. I can’t fully express how honored I am that some of your pieces are based in my poems. The whole notion leaves me a bit breathless.

Please begin by briefly introducing yourself.

AJ: I was born and raised in El Paso, Texas shortly after my parents migrated from Mexico. I am a life long resident of El Paso where I graduated from UTEP with a BFA then MA in Metals, then went on to receive an MFA from NMSU in 1993. I am now an artist and a lecturer at UTEP, active in several art organizations.

Have you always thought of yourself as creative?

AJ: The word “creative” is problematic for me because it can be intimidating for what it represents. I remember feeling envious of my siblings’ artistic creativity when my mother would challenge us to draw and color a picture to see who could create the most beautiful piece. I would sit and stare at the blank white page, afraid of ruining the perfect white paper with my “uncreative” marks, a frustration that follows me to this day.

How do you nurture your creativity?

AJ: Nature often incites the flame of creativity, but music, poetry, and exploring other visual artists’ work helps focus my inspiration and nurture my creativity.

What are your challenges in your creativity practices?  Is fear an element?

AJ: I always fear that things will not progress smoothly, since failure with a technique can destroy the creative process or omission of the minutest details can adversely affect its creative impact.

Do you have a space that helps you be more creative?

AJ: I do have a few spaces throughout my house that are important in recharging my spirit, yet aside from feeding the spirit, an artist must have a workable space to accomplish what he/her sets out to do, and despite the tiny 12’x 16’ space, my backyard studio is quiet, well lit, and comfortable.

We’re including your pieces based on my poems. Can you tell us which poems, your titles for the pieces, and how you decided to create these them? What was the process?

AJ: “There Was a Woman”(from Agua Santa: Holy Water) left me with a desire to make a visual interpretation of the overwhelming essence of lemon and woman as envy incarnate. The idea for Limonacida evolved from countless readings of the poem to help identify the kind of imagery necessary to convey my view of the poem. I knew I wanted to incorporate the luscious yellow fruit cradled in hands throughout the tree; however, the concept for the squeezed half lemons was an after thought, to exaggerate the lemons to a point where the viewer could practically smell and taste them. The dark overtones of the knives refers to the woman’s piercing and cutting attitude, while the mountain of sucked lemons alludes to her rotting teeth – victims of acidic excess.

Limonacida

In contrast, Colibri Argentina: Argollada is a much softer approach. I relate to “Pajarita” (from Borders) because of how I see my own mother and how she seems to defy all the odds in her daily battle against Diabetes. Despite her tired, frail body, she continues to live as the woman described in the poem, quietly and subtly enjoying life’s small pleasures.

I love the puissance of the cage analogy, and how in my mother’s case, her home is a place of confining security. Even after my father’s passing, my mother seems to demonstrate her newfound liberty yet continues to be confined in the same cage.

Colibri Argentina:  Argollada

What is your advice to people who doubt their artistic ability?

AJ: Stephen Vollmer once told me, “I don’t believe there is any bad art, it is simply a stepping stone for the next piece.” Express your creativity, since you never know where your stepping-stones will lead.

Creativity Salon: an Interview with Dr. Janice Gould

I’ll begin the post by saying: Welcome to my Bookjoy Creativity Salon, Janice, and congratulations on recently receiving tenure at the University of Colorado, Colorado Springs. You are a new friend with whom I’ve so enjoyed spending time recently.

Photo by credit Jason Ordaz, School for Advanced Research, Santa Fe, NM

 1. You’re a poet, scholar, teacher, musician, photographer, a woman creative in so many ways. When and how did your awareness of your creativity begin?

JG: My mother encouraged my sisters and me to be creative when we were just little. She gave us lots of room to explore our world and to play. We made up stories and acted them out: we were pioneers, cowboys, Indians, detectives, railroad engineers, wanderers and explorers. I liked to draw and color; my mom was always enthusiastic about my work. She taught us music—we had a piano—and we were always singing. In first grade, I wrote a poem about the rain, and doing this I realized all in a flash how I felt about rain, how I perceived it.

Writing that little poem provided me with an opportunity to gain insight into how I connect with the natural world. I had found a new way to see things and it felt exciting and marvelous.

2. Thinking back to yourself in third grade, are you surprised at what you are doing now, at the woman you have become?
JG: When I was in third grade, I had a teacher who segregated our class, putting all the “dark” children together, and treating us one way, and placing all the white children together and treating them another way—giving them certain privileges, and treating us “dark” children as if we were too “dumb” to protest this. Back in those days, we learned folk dancing as part of our curriculum. The teacher didn’t want the white children to partner with the “dark” children.

My mother had talked with my sisters and me about discrimination based on race, something she had faced as a young person (and as an adult). It seemed wrong to me that the teacher had separated us children into distinct groups. I went home and complained about this to my parents. The sense of social justice and injustice my mom instilled in us still resides in me.

I was also sure from an early age that I wanted to be an artist. I loved drawing, enjoyed making music, and as a teenager began exploring poetry. I studied oboe, and when I started college, I majored in music. But because I liked to read and write, and because I was rebellious in my own way, I eventually followed the path of poetry.

After I realized that I was a lesbian (I was a teenager, and this was an era when people did not talk about sexuality or sexual orientation), I felt that there was no place where I could be naturally and truthfully myself. It was a very difficult time, and it took years before I felt comfortable being “open” about my sexual preference. As feminism emerged on the scene, making it possible for girls and women to dream and imagine different possibilities for themselves, the world opened up in new ways. I found I could live truthfully.

3. Family and nature seem deep sources of inspiration for your poetry, yes? Are they also sources for your other creative work?
JG: While family and the natural world are to be sources for my writing, it is the idea of relationship that motivates and inspires me. As a photographer—and I am an amateur at this practice—I love recording the natural world. I respond affectionately to “landscape” in my photographic work and also with my music.
Friendship and love are equally inspiring sources for writing. Perhaps inwardly (and against all reason), I am always fearful that love will withdraw, leaving me bereft, lacerated, and in a kind of despair. The power of that withdrawal is frightening to me. I have always pursued intense friendships and sought intensity in lovers. And like many artists and others, I desire praise; it helps feed creativity. “Am I connecting with you?” is my unspoken question.

4. Are your varied creative expressions connected?
JG: Yes, but I’m not entirely sure how. Music and poetry have much in common: sound, rhythm, and tone. My poetry tends to be lyrical—I sometimes use more formal structures to express an idea, though I also employ free verse. My work is also narrative. My impulse, again, is to connect with others through emotional knowledge, through the body’s knowledge.

I’m still learning how to take photographs. I notice in professional photography uses of lighting or coloring that ask me to look deeper, to observe the surface and also what lies below the surface, what emerges from another layer. I am drawn to work that is generous, inclusive, and affectionate, that helps us connect with the beautiful and fecund world.

5. You have studied and been inspired by the grand Spanish poet Federico García Lorca. What fascinates you about his voice on the page?
JG: Lorca seemed aware of the power that brings both life and death. He called it “duende,” a term that we associate with flamenco, with the movements and rhythms of dance, theater, and performance. In his famous essay on this subject, Lorca disposed of the muse and the angel, forces that worked for earlier generations of writers—those given to nostalgia or pure intellectualism. He wanted to tap into a stronger impulse, something that came right up out of the earth and entered the body, tearing away masks and pretences, useless language, politeness, effeteness. He wanted to connect with something that felt more raw, “primitive,” and truthful. For him, it seems, truth could be found in the magic of the natural world: in wind, shadow, snow, and water; in the various acids that eat away at surface; in death and decay.

While Lorca’s imagination could explore violence, he tempered violence with language, always aware of the sounds of lamentation, loneliness, and longing. As a homosexual living under the repressive order of that day and time, he probably experienced life as a surface, for when people cannot live openly, they must resort to secrecy and deceptions—ways to carry on their own natural impulses inwardly when the reality of the surface prohibits and disdains them. I believe that Lorca imagined the stultification and sterility of Spanish conservatism through a feminine reality (for example in his plays) because it was clear to him that women suffered from sexual and political repression. Yet Lorca’s voice seldom feels “political,” and never didactic. His approach was to encourage human connection through lyricism—song and music were important to him—and imagination, through a magical, sometimes whimsical, sometimes violent apprehension of the natural world and the world of human making.

6. In your essay in the book you co-edited, Speak to Me Words: Essays on Contemporary American Indian Poetry, you write, “We have to forgive our imperfections and heal the hole in our hearts that is left there by shame.” The book was published in 2003. What have you learned in the intervening years about the connection between creative work and healing ourselves?

JG: Healing is creative when it comprises a re-creation of self, the work of the psyche, the soul. As I think about my own inner work, I realize I have become clearer about what I want to do, and as importantly, what I do not wish to do. I have learned to say “no” to certain tasks that would take psychic time and energy away from writing poetry or music. Creative work is healing when it’s undertaken without guilt, when we move past the distractions that life presents. If we believe our job is to give back through our creative works, we must sometimes be “selfish” to accomplish this.

7. Any new projects you’d like to share with us?
JG: I’ve been working on a new manuscript of poems since 2009. I have several “gacelas” (a term I borrow from García Lorca), some lyric poems in free verse, and some that I term “prose poems.” I post some of my photos to my blog. And I continue to practice guitar and to write music for it and for accordion.

8. What makes Janice really laugh?
JG: I saw Marcel Marceau in performance once. He made me laugh because Bip was most always in a daydream, which meant that whatever he was trying to accomplish came with goofy mistakes (having to re-button his shirt many times, tripping over his own feet, trying to look nonchalant, even debonair, but slipping on a banana peel at the last moment). Bip had a sweetness and innocence that came from having an affectionate heart, a heart that took in all the world and gave it all back with the largest of grins, voicelessly.
Although Marceau has passed on, I still love Bip’s humanity and relate to his penchant for error. I enjoy being in the company of people who act from the heart, who are not afraid of silliness, who laugh with soft laughter.

Read Janice's blog and see more photographs.

Creativity Salon: David Fernández-Barrial and Jill Garcia

A few years ago, my escort at the National Book Festival in DC was gracious David Fernández-Barrial. I was intrigued by the specific work he does at the Library of Congress and am delighted that he agreed to participate in our Creativity Salon. I'm also pleased that he invited his colleague, Jill Garcia, to join us too.

1.What is the National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped and what are your roles?

David: The National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped (also known as NLS) is the national library program for persons with blindness, physical limitations or print disabilities that prevent the reading or handling of standard print. NLS ensures that people who have difficulties reading standard print are still able to have access to reading. We are a part of the Library of Congress in Washington DC, which is the world's largest library!

Jill: I select the young adult and kid’s books that will be recorded as an audio book and/or read in braille. The titles we choose are for patrons across the entire U.S.

David: And I am the foreign-language librarian at NLS, responsible for selecting books in Spanish and other languages.

2. Do you consider yourself a creative person? If yes, how does your creativity affect your work?

Jill: Strangely enough, I never really thought about it. But I do get to be creative when I write the annotations for the books I select. We write short descriptions about the books for our patrons. And what really thrills me, is trying to create a summary that entices a person to read a book they normally would never pick up. Now that is pretty cool.

David: Yes, I think we are creative people. Our jobs involve creativity, but we also love words and book culture and actively participate in it. If you are a creative person, it is not as though you come to work and push that creativity aside: it informs everything you do. Outside of work I love to write, and have dabbled in different things like novels and short poems. And within the hallowed halls of the Library, I actively problem-solve, open my mind, and breathe in the centuries of human knowledge. Being creative is a lifelong process: it is about participating fully in the world and being aware of things. Being a librarian makes you hyper-aware of the larger, expansive, and active, volcanic world all around us. A world of becoming.

3. What are your two or three key challenges in the work you each do?

David: One challenge is that things happen very, very slowly in our workplace. We try to accomplish many things, yet they take time and much negotiation. What makes it so rewarding, though, is knowing that your job has such a positive impact on people’s lives.

Jill: My biggest, heartwrenching challenge is being limited on how many books I can select for the collection. I love them all, but I can only pick a small amount of what is published.

David: Yes, there are so many good books out there.

4. What were you like as a child? Were you a reader?


Jill: Given the amount of toys laying about at work, I think we both never grew up. Yes, I was a happy, lunatic reader as a child … I carried books with me where ever I went. I had a burning need to be surrounded by the magic of stories. I think that is why I grew up believing that anything is possible, if you just believe.

David: I was a gloomy and morose child, trapped in the world of imagination … no, I am joking. I still am a child. I loved (and love) to read, which is why being a librarian in the world’s largest library is really a kid’s dream job.

5. Día is one way I promote bookjoy. Do you see possible connections between your work and Día?


David: Día is about promoting bookjoy and inspiring the love of reading. We at NLS help provide access to all readers, including those who are multilingual or multicultural or just want to read books in other languages.

Jill: I agree. We love books and love to make people aware of the great diverse literature out there.

Pat: Many thanks again for your time.

David: It is our pleasure, Pat. It is an honor to talk about our program to let your readers know about how reading, literacy, accessibility of learning materials are a right for every person, including persons with disabilities. And that creativity and love of learning are alive and well in corridors of the temple of knowledge that is the Library of Congress.

Jill: Thank you, Pat. One very nice thing about our jobs is that we can meet great people like you!