Integral Education: The CIIS Blog

CIIS Celebrates Launch of Mission at Tenth Inter-arts Journal

CIIS celebrates the release of volume 3 of its inter-arts journal Mission at Tenth, the Double Helix issue, on Saturday, March 31. The event will be held in Namaste Hall at the CIIS Main Building from 6-7:30 pm. The event is free and open to the public.

Mission at Tenth is produced by students in the MFA programs of the Writing, Consciousness and Creative Inquiry Department. Volume 3 features work by poets Jane Hirshfield and Pireeni Sundaralingam; "Action Architect" and MacArthur genius Elizabeth Streb; Exploratorium "Vision" prize winner Meeson Pae Yang; and "Robopocalypse" author Daniel H. Wilson. The "double helix" theme was suggested in an MFA talk last year by adventure writer Julia Whitty. Asked by a student to reveal the source of inspiration for her work, Whitty answered that she found it in "the deep scatter of science and art."

The event will include a panel of contributors: photographer Barbara Parmet, videographer Zig Gron, muralist/performance artist Johanna Poethig, and science writer, co-author of "How to Defeat Your Own Clone," Terry D. Johnson. Panelists will be interviewed by MFA students in the Editing and Publishing class, and introduced by magazine editor Randall Babtkis. Neil Freese, art director of the journal, will offer a short how-to on the QR codes featured in Mission at Tenth. Panelists will also take questions from the audience.

The first volume of Mission at Tenth, the Leaky Pen issue, was published in spring 2009; the Hieroglyph Issue followed in spring 2011, featuring work by Angelica Muro, Alonzo King, Vicente Aleixandre, Rabindranath Tagore, Quincy Troupe, Diane Di Prima, and others. Volume 4, the East/West issue, is planned for a spring 2013 release and submissions will open on June 1, 2012. For more information, write to rbabtkis@ciis.edu.

On Catharsis and the Interdisciplinary Project: HOMELESS IN HOMELAND, Part 3

By SARIA IDANA, a theater, literary, and music artist, committed to freedom of expression as a means to develop action connection and intimacy. Her work focuses on personal and global struggle in conjunction with human resiliency. She is a Creative Inquiry, Interdisciplinary Arts MFA student.

Saria Idana will be performing her solo show HOMELESS IN HOMELAND on March 1-3 at La Pena Cultural Center in Berkeley, Calif.

Catharsis is present in HOMELSS IN HOMELAND in three ways. First, through a dramatic arc in both the theater piece and spoken word album; second, in what I have learned from the different art forms speaking to each other as they develop multiple layers of meaning; and third, in how I have been changed on a personal level by engaging with the topics. The combination of these allows the audience to experience their own catharsis. When an artist has been changed through the process of making work, the showing becomes a sharing not a telling. This manifests through intention and into stance and tone. The action of sharing gives the audience permission to engage with the material in a more intimate way.

Structurally, the main character—based on me—goes through mental and emotional breakdowns and breakthroughs, which is a traditional form for catharsis. This is a classic structure developed with Aristotelian theater in ancient Greece. This dramatic arc invites the audience to identify with the protagonist and to go through mental and emotional shifts as the protagonist does. On a personal level, engaging with this material has changed my relationship to my own identity both as an American and as a Jew dedicated to the human rights of all people.

From feedback I received, I know catharsis has occurred for a number of audience members; I consider even the political hate mail emailed to me evidence of this. In both formal and informal post performances discussions, audience members have expressed having altering. This has been demonstrated through intense crying—coupled with bits of laughter—to people saying, “I just never thought about it quite like that”;  “it” has been applied to different aspects of identity, history, and experience shown in the narrative of the play, but most often refers to the Middle East conflict.

Telling Stories Through Art

By CINDY SHEARER, professor and program chair, MFA in Creative Inquiry, Interdisciplinary Arts and MFA in Writing and Consciousness

Account, anecdote, backstory, chronicle, drama, fable, fantasy, history, lie, legend, narrative, myth, memoir, parable, plot, romance, saga, serial, tale, thriller, witness, yarn: all describe how artists convey stories.

But as you walk through "Telling Stories Through Art," the exhibit Tricia Grame and I have curated for the Diablo Valley College Art Gallery, a different (and more eclectic) set of words, such as symbol, cardboard, color, wax, white gloves, found objects, dress form, texture, whimsy, wire mesh, humor, paper bag, might come to mind. Here the artists push against how stories are generally told—and convey them through a wide range of forms—and distinct, evocative uses of visual materials.

The exhibit is definitely “mixed media," suggesting it takes many visual materials and multiple ways of using them to fully convey a story (a story well told must be evoked in layers?). Included—among many other mixed media works—are Laura Towne’s illustrated poem on paper, April Zachary’s hand-made book, Tanya Wilkinson’s mixed media sculpture and mixed media 3D collage, Marsha Balian’s found wooden bird and metal bird cage sculpture, Sarah’s Loomis found wood, bottles, paper and thread assembled into visual stories, Tricia Grame’s paintings with text, Jenelle’s Campion’s work on cardboard, Mira M. White soft pastels/acrylics on paper, and Wendy Robushi’s oils, wax and repetitively etched words on wood panels. Nanci Price Scoular’s installation uses sand and water and Plexiglas to tell a story from beginning to end, from start to moment of change.

The exhibit is also evidence that artists and viewers create story together. Tanya Wilkinson writes: “When a piece of art works for you, it draws you in, it evokes feeling; you become a part of the story of the piece.” Wendy Robushi speaks to the “story not yet told”—art as a vehicle for unconscious story to become conscious. Several artists, such as Michelle Champlin, Mira M. White, and Tricia Grame, draw on symbols as a metaphor for story or as a way to share the influences that others’ stories have on them. Juan-Carlos Gonzalez and Aaron Rose collaborate—using the buffalo as catalyst for his painting and her handmade book.

An Interview with CIIS Alum Katie McCleary

By LOIS KEANEY SMITH, student in the Writing and Consciousness MFA program and intern in the CIIS Communications Department.

The more I learn about careers, the more I wonder to myself: Who do I know who is actually doing these things? Do I know anyone who is actually managing to create their own work life, or developing a portfolio career? Instantly I thought of someone—Katie McCleary.

I first met Katie when she was working as the writing coach at Susurrus, Sacramento City College’s literary journal. Katie is a graduate of the CIIS Writing and Consciousness MFA program, and the person who brought me to CIIS. I caught up with Katie to talk about her book, her new nonprofit, and her work life before and after CIIS.

What were you doing in terms of your creative writing practice/career before you got to CIIS?
Before I entered the Writing and Consciousness program, I was writing very little, helping out a local literary journal, and working 60 hours a week at a nonprofit that mentored at-risk youth. Needless to say, I was completely burnt out. I remember calling in sick to work to have entire days at home to write. I spent a lot of time daydreaming about a writing life and being in the world of books, but was failing miserably at producing one.

What tools did you learn at CIIS that have helped you to develop your career?
Well, I learned how to cultivate a writing life—everything from creating a writing practice, learning craft, and integrating myself into a community of passionate writers. The consciousness piece fit well with learning how theory can be bridged into action. I was already “in action” prior to entering the Writing and Consciousness program, but now I had theory to back up what I already knew in my gut. This may sound silly, but in a way I was able to not feel so guilty about leaving my nonprofit job to pursue a “selfish, ridiculous dream.” I felt that I had walked out on teens and parents and teachers who needed me. I was able to actualize that writing has a place in social action and movements, particularly storytelling.

How has your career path changed since CIIS?
Since CIIS, I’ve had two children—that’s taken up a lot of time. However, I’ve been able to balance a writing life with work and parenting. I’ve taught at various community colleges, edited a literary journal, published in my community, and spearheaded The Writing Table, a collective of writing teachers who offer workshops around Sacramento. My latest project, 916 Ink, has bridged my past with my education at CIIS.

What career goals do you have that you didn't before CIIS?
Well, I had dreams of writing a novel, but without CIIS I wouldn’t have actually completed one! I wrote a collection of short stories and the first draft of a novel at CIIS. Since then, my novel has been re-drafted at least 13 times. Excerpts have been published and one awarded me a fellowship at the Tomales Bay Workshops, where I personally worked with Dorothy Allison for a week. Beyond publication, I’d love to teach in an MFA low-residency program in the future—but that’s pretty far off, I think.

What teaching/writing jobs are you currently doing/have you done recently?
I am revising my literary young adult novel, "The Chandelier Forest," with agent Amy Tipton of Signature Literary Agency. I’ve just finished a draft of my second novel, which is about a group of orphans who inherit a zoo for injured creatures.

I am actively teaching creative writing through The Writing Table, and at UC Davis Extension. I also coach beginner writers on their manuscripts, which is rewarding.

But my biggest project is starting 916 Ink. We are dedicated to promoting literacy by empowering youth in the Sacramento region to engage in literary arts. 916 Ink seeks to excite young people with language, particularly written language; to instill in children a sense of joy, wisdom, whimsy, and wonder with words; to celebrate syntax; and to support teachers, schools, and libraries in their efforts to share the benefits of reading and writing with all area youth.
 
Currently, I am the executive director, and in spring our organization will be inspiring 70 students (ages 8–18) to write. Once our programming is complete we will publish their creative writing in real, beautiful books in partnership with the Sacramento Public Library.

An Interview with Career Advisor Margie Lam

By LOIS KEANEY SMITH, student in the Writing and Consciousness MFA program and intern in the CIIS Communications Department.

At several points in my life, I have faced a dreaded beast: the Craigslist job search. I sat at the computer, watching my hope free-fall until I felt only despair, clicking through listing after listing and finding nothing. By the end of the day’s job hunt, I felt desperate, hopeless, and, worst of all, directionless. There are no jobs at all. There are too many jobs. I don’t know where to look. Back then, I didn’t really know what I wanted to be, so where would I even start looking?

We did not have a career counselor at my high school, just a college counselor. I never visited the career counselor as an undergraduate—it simply did not occur to me to go. So, on a Friday morning this fall, at age 28, I visited a career counselor for the very first time in my life.CIIS career counselor Margie Lam made the experience as painless as possible. She grabbed her mug of herbal tea and we headed into a meeting room.

Margie listened patiently as I described my wayward journey towards a career. I asked her if she had any general job hunting advice that would help anyone who was in graduate school. The first step, Margie explained, was to develop a “career action plan.” A career action plan, as Margie described it, works best when broken into small, orderly, bite-sized pieces. The necessary steps for any job search should function in much the same way. Here are some of the steps:

• Start in school
• Know yourself
• Stay specific
• Ask for help
• Be realistic
• Be flexible

Start In School
“Don’t see yourself as just a student,” Margie warned. Instead, she stressed the importance of seeing graduate school as an opportunity to further your career and to make connections that might benefit you in the future. There are many ways to do this, she said. One is to make connections with people in this community. Another strategy is becoming close to other students and to professors, and knowing what projects they are working on.

Margie recommended taking on “internships or volunteering, paid or not. Take on leadership projects, coordination, anything to add to your experience and skill set.” There might also be a professional association to get involved in through your program. The goal of all this, of course, is to build connections, and to learn what is out there in your field.

Know Yourself
But before you do any of this, you have to know what your field is. If you are still figuring this out, or have many interests and have trouble narrowing it down, as was my problem, there are several resources that might help. One is a personality-based career test. Two tests Margie recommended were the John Holland Typology test and the Meyers-Briggs type indicator. Both ask you a variety of questions about your personality, interests, and skills, and then based on your answers, classify you into a particular group.

I took one test and found that I was categorized as: ASE: Artistic, Social, and Entrepreneurial. Artistic and social were not a huge surprise, but I’ve never seen myself as being particularly entrepreneurial, so that was news.

Stay Specific
Many of my ambitions over the years have been vague, which made it incredibly difficult to know how to begin working toward them. I knew I wanted to write, and I knew I wanted to help people. I had no idea what career those vague aspirations might translate into. The trick, Margie explained, is to find ways to narrow your dreams down into something achievable: “Look at your dream and see it as a goal. The more you can narrow it down and be specific and concrete, the better.” It is far easier to start researching organizations if you know what you’re looking for. It’s also far less scary and overwhelming if you have a specific place to start.

One resource to help you concretize your dreams is the Occupational Outlook Handbook provided on the United States Department of Labor. This handbook provides useful, specific information about skills required in different fields, what the job market is like in these fields, and the training and education needed.

TravelBlogue 2: How to Maintain that State of Inspiration and Wonder You Felt Over There

By RANDALL BABTKIS, writer, poet, and professor in the Department of Writing, Consciousness and Creative Inquiry

Photo by Lisa Moriss-Andrews: Early gathering “scene” around bagel party, courtyard in Vilnius, Lithuania

Last August, I was scheduled to give my first overseas reading of work from a novel-in-progress. An excerpt from the book landed me in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania. I invited my new friends Elena and Gintaras to the reading. I met them because we kept showing up at the same spots—molecules held together by a mysterious band of hydrogen. At first I believed Elena and Gintaras might be following me. But since we seemed interested in the same things (I was here looking for slaughtered forbears, they were tuned into the historical vibe), I latched onto the pair as they latched onto me. Elena and Gintaras were the only Lithuanians I knew, so I wanted to nurture our friendship.

It turned out the young couple already planned to be at the reading—serving home made bagels—they were hosting the event.

Moments before our bagel party/reading began, a well-known Vilnius writer remarked: "Lithuania is so small that a visitor may come to recognize all the same faces he has seen one day, again the next morning." Certainly it was true in the case of Elena and Gintaras. It seemed to me Vilnius offered so much of that fusion, the entire city appeared under a double helix.

So the writer's remark felt convincing. 850,000 inhabitants of Vilnius and its surrounds today? Never mind. The idea one might continually see the same people conjures the sort of exotic distortion one experiences in travel. While I remain on foreign ground, I drop all doubts. The secularism I wear like dress code in home-life disappears. Routines in everyday places—dreams of cleaning the same cupboards I scrubbed that morning, or mowing lawns I clipped this afternoon—give way to telepathic imagery. Those chimeras are as intense as they are extraterrestrial. False awakenings I experience back home—through which I really only continue to sleep—fall away to more profound visual fields abroad.

How do we hold onto that poetic jetstream, once the banality of our return home surrounds us again? Walter Pater writes: To burn always with this hard, gemlike flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life. That burning is success in art! I hoped to return with the force still in my head.

It was early August; we were in the far northern hemisphere, corralled in a small courtyard behind an ancient arts collective, to which Elena and Gintaras belonged. Perhaps 60 of us gathered in the twilight. The crowd was young and hip, highly ambitious faces with keen expressions.

Most were North American—writers half-way around the world mixed with a small fusion of Vilna bohemia. My two young Lithuanian friends offered a flourish of artisanal bagels with salmon fished out of a briny looking barrel. Posters of Elena's printed invitation in 12 icy shades of blue were stapled around the courtyard. Elena spelled “party” with an “i” someone pointed out. Her boyfriend, Gintaras, said that was the correct spelling, he double checked it for his e-blast before sending it.

On Attending Writing Conferences

By WENDY STERNDALE, second-year student in the Writing and Consciousness MFA program

Whenever I’m at a writer’s conference I feel slightly giddy among admired writers who struggle with words on the page, just like I do. When listening to an author who gets it right, it can feel like all of us are breathing in unison.

Maybe you’re like me. As a practicing writer, I search for answers to craft-related questions through other writers’ examples. How far can we stretch the truth in creative non-fiction before it becomes a lie? What makes prose flow as beautifully as poetry and still retain its clarity? When authors and poets read their own work, the emphasis they use sometimes answers these and other questions. Literary conferences are some of the best places to listen to best-selling authors read and discuss their craft. Over the last year, I have attended three conferences, and in early 2012 will return to the biggest one, Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP).

The most recent conference I attended, LitQuake, happens over all of San Francisco every October. Most events are free or very inexpensive, making it accessible financially, if not logistically. Our own Carolyn Cooke read from and discussed her latest novel, “Daughters of the Revolution” in a lovely South of Market theatre. Many events are in bars, reiterating the impression, whether true or not, that San Francisco is a writer’s town, and that San Francisco writers drink a fair amount. At historic and poorly ventilated Vesuvio’s in North Beach, readers yell from the balcony to listeners sweating in history, a standing room only crowd. I imagine beat writers did the same thing 50 or so years ago, with or without a conference to justify them. A parade of listeners then strolled across Columbus Ave. to Tosca’s Restaurant where a former mobster, a lawyer, a local satirist, and a few others read from their thrillers at an event called, “These Mean Streets: Reality and Fiction Collide.” They agreed that if the truth could get you killed, fiction is preferred.

LitQuake culminates with LitCrawl on Saturday night in the Mission District, when bars and restaurants open for an evening of reading, listening, walking, drinking, and eating. Some of the second year MFA students, along with a couple of instructors in the Writing and Consciousness program, signed on to read current work to fellow students, teachers, and complete strangers. I only looked up once for the briefest moment, and kept on reading. I didn’t die.

Inspiration

By TRICIA GRAME, visual artist and faculty member in the Department of Writing, Consciousness, and Creative Inquiry

Last week I saw "A Weekend With Pablo Picasso," a one man play by Herbert Siguenza, at the Lesher Theatre in Walnut Creek, Calif. Siguenza writes, paints, and performs in a tour de force interpretation of the legendary artist. Picasso, a most prolific and obsessive multimedia artist, knew he had no choice but to spend each day making art. Siguenza’s dialogue concentrates on quotes by Picasso that spoke loudly to me: “An artist begins by making mistakes—that is natural—do not make any excuses, work every day, everything is art.”

Two weeks ago I saw Rita Moreno’s one-woman play, "Without Makeup," at the Berkeley Rep. She spoke about her journey, her struggles as a woman, and her passion as an artist. She will be 80 years old this year. Her concluding statement was, “I absolutely have no idea what people are talking about when they say that getting older prevents one from creating.”

Cindy Shearer curated an amazing, creative interdisciplinary exhibition and event, "Offerings," at the Village Theatre Gallery in Danville, Calif. The opening night, September 10, was very inspirational, with poet Judy Grahn, musician Anne Carol, Storyteller Jovelyn Richards, poet and playwright Genny Lim, and Anne Bluethenthal and Dancers. I sat in the second row and felt like I had an enlarged heart. I thought, oh, how much we need artists in this world, how much I love being with them, and without them it would be like not having enough oxygen. I spent the next week locked in my studio.

Exposure to other artists and writers has an enormous impact upon us intellectually, emotionally, socially, and creatively. Although, as with the story of any life, the starting point is important to establish a basis for attitudes and beliefs, it becomes less significant over time as the connections we make during the journey cause revision of personal identity. The body of work produced over the course of an artist’s life is many and can mark various milestones.

On Confidence

By ANNE BLUETHENTHAL, professor in the Department of Writing, Consciousness and Creative Inquiry and Artistic Director of ABD Productions

At a recent Saturday Night Event for the Writing and Consciousness and Creative Inquiry, Interdisciplinary Arts MFA programs, a question was posed to a panel of artists on the subject of confidence. To what do they attribute their apparent confidence? Is it a constant thing, or does it waver?

I thought it was an interesting question, particularly for a panel of mostly young guests who were discussing how to sustain a life as an artist. They were all eloquent, passionate, and intriguing interdisciplinary artists each of whom has carved out a niche or woven a tapestry of activities, pursuits, and art works into what appears to be a functioning, possibly sustainable life—not at all a simple or easy accomplishment.

The question sent me wondering about the question of confidence. What is it, exactly, that confidence is made of and how does it serve us? Is it a value, really, or is it something that, when possessed by someone, pulls us, attracts our attention, the way one is drawn toward authority? Are we drawn because of the exuding of authority, or is it an ardent interest that compels us—a sort of magnetism of curiosity?

If confidence is the “feeling of self-assurance arising from an appreciation of one’s own abilities or qualities,”¹  then how does an artist acquire this?

I don’t see artists being confident, so much as having a sort of courage of conviction. We are a faith-based community, often having little in common beyond our wild and unfounded belief that this thing we cannot articulate, this thing we can only sense in a most watery way, must be brought into being. We feel this with such zeal, we are willing to put words to it and imagine it, will it—carve, sculpt, dance, play, and dream it into being as thought our lives depended on it. And I daresay in some real sense, our lives do depend on it.

The Importance of a Business Card

By LOIS KEANEY SMITH, student in the Writing and Consciousness MFA program and intern in the CIIS Communications Department.

Recently, I attended the opening night party for LitQuake, the Bay Area’s nine-day literary festival. I snagged this plum invite because I was reading in LitCrawl, the literary “pub crawl” portion of the festival. None of the other readers from my MFA program could make it, so I went to the party by myself, feeling like a teenager who shows up to prom without a date. No one was dancing when I arrived. A disco ball whirred on the ceiling, a dj spun a danceable mix, and literary folk milled around wearing devil horns (the party’s theme was The Devil’s Lexicon.) Knowing that writers can be shy, the LitQuake organizers very kindly provided us with an ice breaker: literary bingo. I wandered around, searching for writers who had a literary tattoo, or whose book had been made into a movie (both boxes on the literary bingo game).

The ice breaker worked wonders. I met an MFA student from another school, as well as the editor of a literary magazine, who helped me cross off a lot of squares on my bingo game. At a certain point in the conversation, he asked me the dreaded question: What do you do?  I told him I was an MFA student, and, of course, a writer. Then he asked me, “Do you have a website with your work on it?”

I hesitated. I didn’t have a portfolio website yet, but I managed to name a site where I’d published an essay. Balancing his LitQuake program on my knee, I scrawled down the URL, smearing the ink slightly with my hand (I’m left-handed, so I do this all the time). I returned the program, feeling slightly sheepish; a moment had presented itself, and I was totally unprepared. I had no cool-looking business card to give him, only a messily scrawled address to a website that wasn’t even mine.

I’m taking a class this semester called The Business of Art, in which MFA students from the Writing and Consciousness and Creative Inquiry, Interdisciplinary Arts programs learn techniques for marketing ourselves as “cultural producers.” Our professor, Christian L. Frock, is a cultural producer in her own right: She’s an artist, writer, and independent curator, as well as the creator of Invisible Venue, an enterprise that collaborates with artists to present art in unexpected settings.

Frock is consistent in stressing the importance of a good business card and a “web presence” as vital components in a successful networking strategy. Early this semester, she asked us to make the leap and to create our own cards. I poked around several business card-making websites, and found a few design templates geared towards writers. One had a typewriter on the front, which looked okay, but a bit generic. Another used a graphic of a pen, which, again, seemed a little obvious.