Fragments of dark truths

self portrait, Guggenheim Museum NYC

self portrait, Guggenheim Museum NYC

Italian writer Francesca Interlenghi and I in conversation on art, self expression, and writing poetry, for the ‘The Dummy’s Tales.’ Milan.

FRANCESCA INTERLENGHI: We live in the era in which dreams appear to be dead and we no longer have faith in utopias. I wonder if the increasing reliance on technology has led to an excess of rationality. Relatedly, it seems that human beings can’t survive long without an ideal, and maybe there’s the hope that art that evokes the sublime could help to fill that void. Is today’s poet as outmoded as he or she seems to be?

KATHRYN CARTER: I think we still dream as wildly as we always have, and we always will. But I think it is the pursuit of those dreams that has become an endangered endeavour. We live in an incredibly materialistic culture, one that places greater value on how much money you earn and how many possessions you own, and not necessarily on the beauty you want to share with the world or the love that is in your heart. To dedicate one’s life to art is often seen as foolish—unless you can prove that it will lead to quantifiable wealth—which is an incredible shame, and an unfortunate truth that I feel lowers the vibration of our culture. Despite poetry’s lesser-prominence in the fabric of contemporary culture, I think it still has a place. In a world where we’re often taught to justify and rationalise all that we encounter and experience—to others and also to ourselves—poetry liberates us to feel without the need for explanation. It allows us, if we’re willing, to attune to what is within amid the endless distractions of the external realm. I think we still need that prompt from the poet, and I think we always will, if only to be moved in a way that has not been mapped out or predetermined.

Inspiration behind ‘gentle despair’—painting 'Entangled' by © Schalk van der Merwe, courtesy of the artist

Inspiration behind ‘gentle despair’—painting 'Entangled' by © Schalk van der Merwe, courtesy of the artist

FRANCESCA: According to Rainer Maria Rilke, poets need to be completely devoid of ego. They’re not preoccupied with themselves, they’re freed from themselves and refuse personal expression in their work. Do you agree with this definition? Do you strive for self-effacement when you are caught up in your writing?

KATHRYN: A few years ago I watched a commencement address delivered by Jim Carrey at Maharishi University in America, during which he stated that the effect you have on others is the most valuable currency there is. Everything you gain in life will rot and fall apart, and all that will be left of you is what was in your heart. For some reason that commencement address resonated with me so strongly. I never write so that my “self” can be seen or heard, that’s not the point. I write in the hope that my words can offer an alternate way of looking at the world, acting kind of like a kaleidoscopic lens of the cosmos. That never has anything to do with “me,” and I like it that way.

It’s not about writing to serve the concept of the self that you have built to satisfy the whims of others. It’s about satisfying the yearning of the soul, dedicating yourself to sharing with others what truly excites your spirit. Not for the sake of renown, because fame is nothing, but for the sake of sharing something with the world.

Inspiration behind ‘the abyss’—photograph from ‘NAKED’ by © Sarai Mari, courtesy of the artist

Inspiration behind ‘the abyss’—photograph from ‘NAKED’ by © Sarai Mari, courtesy of the artist

FRANCESCA: By fusing emotion and synthesis on your writings, you create a tension between the external world and the inner world - I mean the soul. The form in which you decide to express yourself, the haiku, seems to be a perfect incarnation of this delicate balance. How do you manage this interplay between intuition and representation?

KATHRYN: A lot more feeling than thinking is involved, it’s almost 100% intuition. I’ve always been an incredibly quiet and introverted person, so I suppose you could say that haikus are my way of responding to the world around me. Some people are good at talking about experiences that they’ve had; I’m better at writing things down. So whether they stem from interactions with lovers or strangers, paintings or sculptures, I feel like they always emerge as tiny fragments of the things my soul is urging to say, in its own unassuming style. Rumi once said: “Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.” This quote always reminds me of the haiku. It’s such a gentle form of prose, and yet it can be so powerful, too.

Inspiration behind ‘hollow’—artwork by © Tine Isachsen, courtesy of the artist

Inspiration behind ‘hollow’—artwork by © Tine Isachsen, courtesy of the artist

FRANCESCA: Haiku is a medium of immediacy but, at the same time, it can encourage (you) to abandon consciousness and to evoke a desire for dizziness. Does this characterisation of Haiku resonate with you?

KATHRYN: Definitely. I think the beauty of this particular style of poetry really does lie in its brevity, and its unpredictability. Often haikus only take a few seconds to write, as though they just abandon my subconscious when they feel the time is right. Yet for others I agonise over single words for days, which always feels both ridiculous and very necessary. I think there always needs to be an element of surrender when you’re writing poetry, of letting yourself be moved by an obscure force that you know you’ll never completely understand. A poem is not an equation, you’re not supposed to figure it out, you just feel it into being.

Inspiration behind ‘disruptive calm’—artwork by © Katerina Bak, courtesy of the artist

Inspiration behind ‘disruptive calm’—artwork by © Katerina Bak, courtesy of the artist

FRANCESCA: The images of the artists with which you accompany your poems sound like meditations on lost intimacy. They are delicately balanced by dark drama and sophisticated glamour. It's like you create a fictional world made by "assemblage" scenes, and there you appear with your poetry sharing your fascination with questioning love and life. When did you start to connect with art?

KATHRYN: As a little girl I spent a lot of quality time with my mother’s collection of artbooks, in particular one she had on the ballet dancers painted by Edgar Degas. I guess that was the beginning, and I doubt there will ever be an end. I don’t think you ever consciously decide to become involved with art; it’s a longing that lies deep within you. Art, no matter what form it takes, is born from an incurable ache to express your inner world. To the artist, and to those who feel most at ease within the transient parameters of the artistic realm, it is and always will be deeply necessary.

Inspiration behind ‘pour’—photograph of Eduarda Loch for @pmagazine.co by © Nicolau Spadoni, courtesy of the artist

Inspiration behind ‘pour’—photograph of Eduarda Loch for @pmagazine.co by © Nicolau Spadoni, courtesy of the artist

FRANCESCA: My final question: what would your advice be to a young emerging writer/poet?

KATHRYN: Never let anyone tear your eyes away from your road less travelled by, no matter who they are. Pursuit what you love relentlessly, even when you feel afraid. And be patient with yourself, it takes time to become who you already are.

This interview first appeared on ‘The Dummy’s Tales’