Interview: Sarah Blake
Sarah Blake is the author of the poetry collection Mr. West, an unauthorized biography of Kanye West. She earned a BA from the College of New Jersey, an MA in creative writing from the University of Texas at Austin, and an MFA from Penn State University. Her poetry has appeared in the Boston Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, FIELD, Sentence, the Threepenny Review, and elsewhere. Blake is editor of Saturnalia Books, poetry editor of MiPOesias, and cofounder of Submittrs. She is also the recipient of an NEA literature fellowship. (Bio adapted from The Poetry Foundation).
TCJWW: Why Kanye? Why this particular muse? There is a lot of poetry with more general subject matter, so I'm curious why you went so very specific. And so big! There's a fun saying that "I want someone to love me the way Kanye loves Kanye." I find it fascinating that you take on the challenge of loving him so openly. What prompted this?
Blake: I admire Kanye West. My connection with him began when my grandfather died within months of his mother’s death. A year later he released 808s & Heartbreak and I was sitting on a pile of poems about my grandfather’s death. The reviews of that album weren’t great at first, and I was suddenly glad that no one was reading my poems. And I was struck by how grief happened publicly vs privately. As I continued to follow him in the news, listened to more music, watched more music videos, I went from an admirer to a superfan. I think the reason I went so specific and big and open is precisely because a lot of poetry goes more general. I wanted to push against that.
TCJWW: Why did you choose to include modern media like Twitter and YouTube? Do you feel that they are positive or negative societal forces?
Blake: I go on Twitter. I watch YouTube. I wanted to be true to my life and to how I experience celebrity, which is often through these modern media outlets. Years ago, when I was writing the book, I’m not sure I would have felt compelled to categorize Twitter or YouTube as positive or negative. They’re products with something to offer. But today, in the last year especially, it’s become clear that Twitter is an overwhelmingly positive societal force in its ability to spread news and videos quickly and effectively from many valuable sources.
TCJWW: Lyrically, do you see yourself as an artistic cousin of Kanye's?
Blake: I see all poets as artistic cousins to all hip hop artists, to all songwriters, to all artists, from chefs to painters. West and I both work with words, but he also produces, has visions for music videos, designs clothing. It’s hard to compare myself to him in any way. We are connected by art, along with millions of other artists. And further, to the people who enjoy the art. If you take any time from your day to think about art and how it matters and how it might develop and how it exists in your life and the lives of people across time, you’re connected to it and to others.
TCJWW: Poetry and rap are both deeply lyrical but many people do not see them as cousin genres, in fact there are plenty in the literary world who would not even recognize rap as a genre. What has been your experience blending poetry with a rap icon? Particularly, what have you found liberating (and constricting, perhaps) in making this collection?
Blake: In blending poetry with West, I’ve discovered those people that don’t recognize rap as a genre. Sometimes I forget about those people. I thought I was creating a book that looked out and encouraged others to look out, even as poetry continues as an inward act. I love that juxtaposition. But the publication of the book, combining poems about West and myself and pregnancy and the media, I keep stumbling on not the cross sections but who falls outside the cross sections. What was most liberating was not thinking about any of this prepublication—just following the inspiration.
TCJWW: How do you see Kanye's relationship to feminism? Does that relationship affect how feminist your book can be? What do you hope to see from new feminists? Why did you feel pulled toward Kanye and not female rappers like Nicki Minaj or Lil' Kim, for example?
Blake: Kanye has these moving songs about his mother, has stood up in front of millions to defend Beyoncé, has spoken up publicly for transwomen. He also has misogynistic lyrics in his songs. A lot of them. But I do wonder if that will change now that he has a daughter. We’ll have to see. I’m also ok with his contradicting self, that is like my contradicting self and everyone’s. I don’t think his complicated relationship to feminism can affect the feminism in my poems or my book. Poems are too strong, weird, and complicated to get swayed too much one way or another by one element. Or I hope mine are.
I love Eve’s “Let Me Blow Ya Mind.” I love Missy Elliott and Queen Latifah. I love Nicki Minaj, especially in “Monster,” especially what she says in public, on Twitter and in interviews. I don’t know why I didn’t feel drawn to write about them. Or haven’t yet. It’s hard to know where or how or why inspiration comes from anywhere in particular.
TCJWW: Many people are quick to dismiss Kanye as a "jackass" (President Obama specifically comes to mind). Kanye claims that "If I were to write my title, like going through the airport, and you have to put down what you do, I would literally write 'creative genius'" (Podcast with Bret Easton Ellis) and then admits he can't spell "genius." What sort of icon is he? How do you respond to his many critics?
Blake: I love this question. I want to let it stand as just a great question to think about. What is an icon? Kanye West is definitely an icon. But I’m not sure I could define what an icon is. My response to his critics is my book. Not to dodge the question—only to state that my response is large and complicated. When it’s not, it’s along the lines of, “Kanye’s amazing! Pay attention!” which isn’t very helpful.
TCJWW: To continue along these lines, Kanye is a bit of an enigma—he makes himself well known, he is not everyone's favorite subject, and while his talent as a rapper has great weight, many dismiss him as an egomaniac unworthy of attention. Similarly, rap is a greatly polarizing genre with many dismissing it as a product of—and a producer of—urban, racial, and sexual violence while others argue precisely that it liberates the socioeconomically, racially, or sexually oppressed. For a poet, publishing as a white, middle class woman, it might appear to some casual observers that you have chosen Kanye as a subject because he is controversial and bound to garner attention. However, I think you truly love Kanye (and rap). I'd like to know how you bonded with rap (generally) and Kanye (specifically) in a way that prompted this lyrical love letter: as this collection is clearly a love letter, tell me how you fell in love especially given that you don't look like a stereotypical lover of either Kanye or rap. Could you explore the elephant in the room of your great physical, racial, and financial distinctions?
Blake: I fell in love with hip hop many years before falling for West. My favorite rappers are Busta Rhymes, Big Boi, and Black Thought. Some of my favorite songs are by Nappy Roots and The Goats. One of my favorite songs is “Lo-Fi Funk” by Blueprint. We went to see Blueprint in concert at a small venue in Philadelphia. I haven’t gone to many concerts in my life but I’ve been to a few hip hop concerts in Philly. The audiences are always mainly young white men. I don’t know how I fit in there or anywhere. But what’s interesting about music is that many of us fall in love with it very privately. We get our hands on an album and hole up in a space by ourselves and listen to it over and over. I fell in love with 808s & Heartbreak and the rest of Kanye West’s albums like this. I didn’t think about my position to West or hip hop when I fell in love with his music.
Similarly, the writing of poetry is private. A lot of slow risk taking with the page and then, bit by bit, showing it to friends and mentors, eventually literary journals and presses. It was not at the start of writing these poems that I thought about my position to West. But about six months in, a professor told me if I was going to continue I had to write about race. That was asking me to acknowledge that I might not be writing privately for myself, but that I might be writing a book that would be published. That was also asking me to accept myself as a worthwhile voice in a discussion of race. I did not think that was true. But I did like the poems I had been writing, and I thought it was more problematic to not write about race than to write about it. I could think of the poems as a book, and I could see how wrong that book would be that merely enjoyed Kanye West, without looking at his position in America and my position to him. I made myself as brave as I could be.
I often look at the book and see the ways I failed, didn’t do well enough, but I’m also trying to accept myself for who I am and where I am along the path of becoming as educated as I can be about feminism, racism, socioeconomic injustices, the industrial prison complex, and many, many other things in this world. I am doing my best and I hope it’s good enough, and I hope my work gets better.
TCJWW: An additional question I struggled and wondered about asking before: Would Kanye embrace you as a lyrical biographer?
Blake: I don’t know if West would embrace me, but I would bet that he would embrace the idea of lyric biographies. I hope people write more of them, even about Kanye West!
Photo credits:
Author photo courtesy of sarahblakepoetry.com
