Live Virtual Group Session: 6pm EDT October 19th 2020

At least two new people joined our group of 21 participants tonight as we gathered around a poem by William Carlos Williams. People chatted in greetings and weather reports from MA, ME, NJ, NY, OR, PA, RI, TX, India and Canada, before discussing elements of the “The Artist,” noting the surprising balletic movement of Mr. T, a man in seeming disarray. We identified four people in the space of the poem – the speaker of the poem, a woman who is identified as “my mother,” the de-identified “Mr. T” and his wife. Mr. T is presented as “bareheaded in a soiled undershirt, with his hair sticking out on all sides.” Has he been wearing a hat? Has he been working, or is he known for neglecting his “toilette?” No matter: with no introduction or visible cue or musical accompaniment, he executes an entrechat bounding into the air and “whirling about” in an instant. We commented on the shape of the poem on the page: “centered” on the page and its short lines leaping. One person related this telling to a Lewis Carroll text, which she had recently read, about elderly people who perform remarkable physical feats. One participant commented that he, initially, entered the text as the woman described as an “invalid”. And then began to identify as the artist looking at that woman and deciding to perform. Before returning to what transpires in the text, we commented on the poet, William Carlos Williams, known for his practice of writing as well as his practice of medicine in Paterson, NJ.

We noticed that the poem begins in third person (describing Mr. T) before switching (whirling about) midway to first person as the speaker calls attention to “my mother” who, before exclaiming, “Bravo” is stunned into wordlessness at what Mr. T wordlessly communicates.  This brought our attention to what is given and what is received in every performance.

One participant had a strong reaction to the fourth person who makes an appearance in the poem: “[t]he man’s wife who came in from the kitchen.” She asks if the wife misses what merited applause because she has been working in the kitchen. Whatever the reason, she misses the brief beauty. In the poem, the wife’s “work” is to orient readers to space, suggesting that the action takes place indoors rather than out-of-doors as many people sensed at the beginning of the read. Other than the cry “Bravo” the wife is the only character with a spoken line. “What goes on here?” she asks before the poem ends, “But the show was over.”

            Our session was not over. Given a choice of prompts: Write about an unexpected moment of beauty or Write about a missed performance, we all wrote for four minutes. Four people read their work. One was about the camera on their iPhone being a constant companion and, yesterday, looking into the sun, being blinded by the sun, they took a leap of faith and took a photograph. There was also reflection on the possibility that a camera interferes with pure looking at moments of beauty. One participant commented on the author’s openness and expectation of finding beauty. Another noted that she had re-captured the image in words. The second reader had written about a walk in the woods in search of autumn leaves falling and leaving their impression on the ground. This piece contains dialog between two hikers, about which trail to take, when coming upon markers. The authors of these first two readings both shared the images they had caught on camera.

The third reading was a reflection on missing a performance: parents’ performance that led to conception. There was much amusement and also some discomfort, as participants contemplated or avoided contemplating their own beginnings.

The fourth and final reading, this evening, sounds like a play or film with two residents in a nursing home talking about the images one of them sees on the wall of their room.

Thank you everyone for bringing so much to the discussion of text and for sharing your prompted writing.

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Wednesday, October 21st at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

The Artist by William Carlos Williams

Mr. T.
                    in a soiled undershirt
his hair standing out
          on all sides
                    stood on his toes
heels together
           arms gracefully
                    for the moment
curled above his head.
            Then he whirled about
into the air
             and with an entrechat
                     perfectly achieved
completed the figure.
             My mother
                     taken by surprise
where she sat
             in her invalid’s chair
                      was left speechless.
Bravo! she cried at last
             and clapped her hands.
                       The man’s wife
came from the kitchen:
            What goes on here? she said.
                        But the show was over.

4 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 6pm EDT October 19th 2020

  1. A moment of unexpected beauty~~~

    I awoke to a chilly day in late September.
    A challenge I had made to myself months before was lying in wait.
    A challenge that I had been preparing for both emotionally and physically to undertake.
    I was, hopefully, to climb to the top of Jack’s Mountain, a test of my determination to negate an event that had tested my heart a few years before.

    It was an imposing mountain clad in pines and maples scattered among the jagged rocks which littered its surface.
    On this September day, the leaves had already done their costume change and had fallen to the earth.
    My path was littered with a cushion of partially decaying leaves softening my footsteps as I maneuvered up the trail.
    The remaining songbirds who had not felt the need to migrate welcomed me to their mountain with their cheery song.
    Sun rays wiggled their way through the pines that dotted the mountain, uplifting my spirit.

    The path at times seemed insurmountable as I tilted my head to view the incline up ahead.
    It seemed like a staircase up to the heavens with no apparent end in sight.
    As my steps accumulated, I felt the need to pause and catch my breath.
    I was trusting my heart to serve me without faltering on this special day.
    My knees were starting to rebel but I knew I had to keep on.
    And so I did, keep on keeping on.

    I caught a patch of blue sky ahead of me; I knew the top of the mountain was coming up.
    Step by step I pushed myself to keep moving.
    I hadn’t come this far to give up.
    I was too stubborn for that.

    Finally, there it was.
    The top of Jack’s Mountain.
    I stood there silently at the crest giving thanks to my Creator for being with me on this journey.
    As I peered down at the valley below, I wondered at the silence of the train so small moving on the tracks so far away.
    The innocence of life, the calmness of the world below me.
    I lingered there a while, trying to etch this sight into my memory so it would be there when I had to call upon it.
    Life is good, I am blessed.


  2. al3793

    It was just black and gray. The perfect imprint of a decomposed leaf in the hard mud. Perfectly beautiful. We would have missed it if we hadn’t missed the red blaze that led to the proper trail.

    “I don’t feel right in the woods if I don’t see those red blazes.”
    “But I am sure this path will bring us back to the red-blazed trail.”
    “I’m not going on without finding those blazes.”
    “Ok, I will be able to see those incredible leaf imprints again.”

    It showered ever so briefly. I think I counted 4 raindrops. We found the trail and the red blazes, but the etchings were gone.


  3. Patricia D.

    Three tickets bundled into a package for GG and me to attend dance shows from three countries – The Netherlands, Brazil, and Cuba. We were psyched. The Place des Arts where they were to perform is always a treat. Usually, we meet aftrer work for a light supper and walk to the venue. Montreal nights are special, especially when shared with a friend. The first show was better than the second. We waited with excitment for the thrid, bound to be the best. But alas, it was scheduled on March 24, 2020 – the evening following the COVID-19 lockdown. A missed performance that the refund could not replace.
    Since then, so many missed everything.


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