Art is Not a Luxury

From Amy:

This year, more than ever, I wanted to honor Black History Month, at a time when attempts have been made to erase it. I invited my friend Terry Newby to help me do that. As a white woman in America, I loved literature, but I did not grow up reading many marginalized voices. While I knew the name James Baldwin, I couldn't have told you what he stood for. And now? I know him as a Black man and a gay author. And what else? I've admired him interview clips. He feels important. How do I talk about his contributions, beyond a surface level?

I'm no expert in Black literature. I'm still very much learning. But this is knowledge that Terry brings.

I'm also not German, and I taught those stories for seventeen years, within a historical context. That was not an accident. I was trained by some excellent literature teachers. I learned about the authors as people within their life circumstances in concert with reading their writing. For our six-hour comprehensive graduation exam, we German majors were required to know all relevant information, literary terminology, authors, character names, themes, and dates for all literary movements and a selection of eighty German canonical works. And were required to figure out what "relevant" meant for ourselves. It was brutal. I read some in the German original, some in translation, and met with fellow German majors to compare notes. We passed, all six of us, which is to say: We graduated, none of us with honors in our major, not even my classmate who graduated Summa Cum Laude. I will always remember how Julie Klassen, our beloved mentor, brought us strawberry tea and donuts for a break three hours in. It was more than perfect. She gave us a powerful lesson, better than acing the test, honestly. We didn't know everything we were asked, but we could prepare, come close enough, and celebrate our exploration of writers.

This took place in a language that wasn't even mine until I was fourteen. Let that sink in for a moment. Their voices were truly foreign to me. But they came from a context I needed to learn and these were their authentic voices. What a gift. So what I have, really, is the training to ponder the authors I read. Where do they come from, and what does that bring to their writing?

What's there for me to take away from the reading?

Please understand, I don't mean that an author intended to include all the meaningful connections that show up in their writing. I firmly believe that things land in creative works that a writer never consciously intended to add, but readers see them, because I have experienced this in my own writing. It's magic, really. It's the fullest expression of what it is to be human, and it's essential. The writer's gifts take on a life of their own. But what the writer does, and must do, is gather the courage to show up and publish the words. And readers make meaning.

We, the readers, can ask the questions together and individually and trust that it's going to be a good journey, whatever we find.

James Baldwin had courage in spades. I've seen him in those video clips and thought of him as another mentor, albeit not one I know well. And when Terry Newby came into my world, we started having conversations that make us both think deeply, as I once did with my German major peers. (You'll hear this in the interview. I pose some questions where it's clear that I'm formulating. I have no idea where we'll end up. Terry laughs and calls me out and responds with his own surprises. Not all of it makes it into the final product. Terry can attest to that.)

It's a creative process we capture, just as Baldwin was known to say unexpected things on the video clips that I've seen and admired.

This is actually the antidote to that star-student perfectionism that society trains us to reach for. When we don't have to be the expert, this makes room for us to appreciate the experience of all the interesting