Art as Language: Open Mics & Spaces of Listening

I’ve been thinking a lot about how every form of art is, in essence, language. Almost every medium I can think of (music, photography, poetry, fine art, sculpture…) can be understood somewhat, at its core, as a language to communicate, connect, evoke, or resonate. If art is the medium through which outward expression of internality is possible, every medium is a voice, a language. We experience this in different ways: how two melodies create a conversation; how a black-and-white shadow touches on our longing; how a jazz standard sounds like a perfect morning; how a painting speaks without speaking.

A girl I had never met gave us roses.

If expression is a keystone of art, with a voice going outward from something within, there must always also be an ear to receive it. That might be one of the essences of language: an expression of phenomena (observable or otherwise) articulated through a medium constituted to be understandable for communication. Often, we strive to live out our creativity as modes of expression, as tools we use to make our truer selves clear and visible. We want to express some deeper nuance of our being, our thoughts, our ideas, our values. This does not make creation for the sake of creation any less meaningful, or expression for the sake of ourselves less important. But it’s easy to remember how our desire for expression sometimes stems from a desire to be seen or heard, understood or valued, or to create something that helps someone else feel less alone.

We create not necessarily for people we desire validation from, but even for the dotted outline of a person we will never be able to meet.

Communication through language is a tool for connection. Communication through art is a tool for connection. Is understanding possible without a shared language? If a speaker had no listener, would connection be possible at all? 

As I’ve recently joined Club Rambutan’s newsletter team–(hi!) I promise I’m not always this ruminative, except when I am :)– I’ve been reflecting on my understandings of language, medium, and what it means to build creative community. I’ve also been going to a LOT of Open Mics, pushing myself to speak at as many as I can, as a form of excruciating exposure therapy. 

Sitting at the Crocker Museum in Sacramento on a Thursday night, attending my second Open Mic of the week, I was struck, as always, at how powerful the space of an Open Mic can be. There are seldom other places that provide a stage and a voice for people who may otherwise feel voiceless, with no barrier to entry besides signing their name on a list. I’ve always thought that to be a rare and powerful thing. To be able to be a person of any background, of any history, suddenly in front of an attentive crowd. Where else is there a culture of community so welcoming as that of poets at an Open Mic? Where else is there such a celebration of voice? 

Chio Saeturn reading her original poetry at the Crocker Museum.

For some reason, the power of these facts struck me differently this time. All of those things were still true, and the silhouette of a microphone open to anyone was still powerful–but I noticed looking around me, that what was powerful in equal or greater measure was the willingness of every ear in the room being and remaining open to everything and anything the person behind the mic had to say. These spaces of listening felt rarer and more special to me in that moment than the spaces of speaking. The power of the listening did not feel inferior as it so often can, to that of the speaking; the power of the audience was not different from that of the artist.

I remembered then that spaces like these require a rare level of empathy and acceptance. Upon entering, there is a shared, unspoken agreement to provide a space of listening regardless of who or what stands behind the microphone and reverberates outward. And through this agreement, sometimes there are moments of communal, inaudible confusion; moments where a hushed silence befalls contracting hearts; and moments of hollering, foot-stomping laughter. There are always snaps and claps, by necessity. The beauty of a shared agreement like this reminded me of the beauty of art as a connective tissue, as a language for connection.

I felt as though the space of listening silently spoke these truths the loudest: that everyone is valued, deserves to speak, and deserves to be heard. 

The listening crowd.

The event was hosted at the Crocker Museum by the Sacramento Poetry Center in collaboration with Sac Poets founder Chio Saeturn, featuring Sacramento Poet Laureate Emeritus Andru Defeye and legendary local poet Traci Gourdine. It was hosted in part to celebrate the release of the 916ink anthology “Drop a Pen,” a collection aiming to amplify voices of historically marginalized communities in Sacramento through authentic contributions and representation from these neighborhoods. The event also had booths with art from local independent artist-poets, where they sold handmade zines and prints.

Zine by Reese Moon and prints by Jordan Gaona-Wilson + a free pass to the Crocker!

I think as a creative, it’s so easy to get lost in our heads and the spiral of our own self-perceptions. I think that’s where community helps so much. Despite my fear, intimidation, and constant impostor syndrome, I went up to Andru after the event, and he gave me a memento with an original quote of his on it. I looked down at the rectangular black sticker in my palm with the words in bright white: “you are enough for the stars to shoot about.”

I asked Andru what he would say to other young creatives looking to build community and grow in their passions, to which he responded:

“Building community requires a baseline of everyone feeling safe.

When creating community spaces, always consider not only physical, but mental and emotional safety. This is where codes of conduct can help create and anchor the culture of spaces to support true community building. Real leaders lead from the back, not the front. The leader has to be the one that keeps everyone’s best interests in mind and not just their own. It’s not always an easy role, but it’s crucial in true community building.”

Andru Defeye reading a Community Code of Conduct for Open Mics, and poems from his time as Sacramento Poet Laureate & community organizer.

“If you want to grow in your passions, just keep doing them and growth is inevitable.

I also think a major key is to define your own success as an artist. The creative industries will tell you what success is if you let them.

And they’ll have you feeling all kinds of ways holding yourself up to those definitions.”

I am lucky to have been able to speak to both Andru and Chio, as well as begin to get to know them through local arts and poetry events. Not only are they incredible poets, they also display a deep willingness to listen and be present for others. They embody such a palpable passion for uplifting young voices and the existence of everyone around them.

At the beginning of the event, Andru touched on the culture of snapping and mirroring in slam poetry circles: “it means ‘I hear you,’ it mirrors ‘I’m with you,’  it says ‘I feel that,’; you can say ‘Amen’ like you’re at church.” To me, nothing else but the snap, the stomps, and the mmhs can quite capture that specific culture of listening, mirroring, and being present for one another. But I deeply believe it shares the core of all of our approaches and responses to art when apprehended by its power. Art as language, language as art: we all create spaces of speaking and listening, regardless of medium.

Our friend Hazel, Chio, and I after the event.

Traci Gourdine’s poetry and stories have been published in numerous literary magazines, and she is currently a professor at American River College. Andru Defeye’s new book Unlocked has just been released and is available for purchase now. You can find Chio and Sac Poets holding weekly workshops, classes and events that are open to all. Both Andru and Chio are active community organizers in the Sacramento poetry scene and have readings forthcoming. Sacramento Poetry Center is wrapping up its Poetry Month celebration and has a plethora of upcoming events, in addition to its weekly Open Mic.