Heid E. Erdrich writes from the present into the future where human anxiety lives. Many of her poems engage ekphrasis around the visual work of contemporary artists who, like Erdrich, are Anishinaabe. Poems in this collection also curate unmountable exhibits in not-yet-existent museums devoted to the ephemera of communication and technology. A central trope is the mixtape, an ephemeral form that Erdrich explores in its role of carrying the romantic angst of American couples. These poems recognize how our love of technology and how the extraction industries on indigenous lands that technology requires threaten our future and obscure the realities of indigenous peoples who know what it is to survive apocalypse. Deeply eco-poetic poems extend beyond the page in poemeos, collaboratively made poem films accessible in the text through the new but already archaic use of QR codes. Collaborative poems highlighting lessons in Anishinaabemowin also broaden the context of Erdrich’s work. Despite how little communications technology has helped to bring people toward understanding one another, these poems speak to the keen human yearning to connect as they urge engagement of the image, the moment, the sensual, and the real.
Heid E. Erdrich writes and publishes poetry and non-fiction. Her NEW book of poems, Cell Traffic, a new and selected from University of Arizona Press, IS NOW AVAILABLE. Please consider buying it from www.birchbarkbooks.com
Heid's most recent book of poems, National Monuments from Michigan State University Press, won the 2009 Minnesota Book Award. Heid Erdrich teaches writing workshops, often as a guest at various colleges and universities. Each year she leads the Turtle Mountain Writers Workshop on her home reservation in North Dakota. Heid also works with American Indian visual artists as a curator and arts advocate. Author of the play "Curiosities," she collaborates broadly on multi-discilinary performances of other artists as well.
Founder of Wiigwaas Press, along with her sister Louise Erdrich and poet James Cihlar, Heid continues to publish Ojibwe language books in an effort to assist in indigenous language revitalization work.
Autobiography as Gesture All that I meant All my intent What I had to say
very very soft for the accrual of all that is fleeting and the idea that one could impose enough agency over that to curate it. wedging this in here with some favorite moments.
and all these labels meant to prove the thesis of my love Remember I gave one to you? But I kept one too I had the kind of faith that duplicates even in those days when we gave it all away
And then? We just let it go no record left of what it was so needed to be said There was no Curator of Ephemera though if there were she would be me
I loved the museum theme, and the interplay with visual art--both through her poemeos/QR codes, and through poems in conversation with unseen works of visual art. The overall collection taught me a lot about how a collection can be made of disparate parts, and yet feel whole.
I don't speak a lick of Anishinaabe, but I loved the language lessons--seeing the poem in English, then in Anishinaabe, then again in English gave me a real sense of the way language does and does not change, and gave me plenty to chew on about how meaning is made in language.
Individual poems I particularly like: What Gathers (felt exactly like a Minnesota summer to me), Incantation on a Frank Big Bear Collage, Four Women, Lexiconography I/Clothes Pins.
Like a museum, this collection is work of intellect + creativity. At times it is far-out cool, at times very heady and dry. Many of the pieces that direct the reader to online exhibits and supplemental work do not stand on their own for me, but I admire the undertaking.
A beautiful collection. Really gets at the heart of tradition and technology, especially awe-inducing through the indigenous lens. Wished the sections of the book were a bit more clear, but ultimately this book resonates via poem-by-poem praxis. Exceptional!
This is one of those books that one reads, thinks about and then returns to certain passages because there is something in there that sticks in a place that is hard to scratch. An interesting read.
A book passed on from a friend, published by MSU Press. I adored it even more than I expected to. It took me a little while to learn how to read it. It's a true multi-media experience, with QR codes leading to videos that provide readings on some of the poems. Many other poems provide commentary to songs, mixtapes, paintings, art installations -- and looking up the original inspirations online (where available) almost always added invaluable depth and nuance to the poems.
What at first felt awkward drew me in deeper and further the more that I read. By the end I was clamoring for more! More poems! More paintings! Spotify playlists for the mixtapes! An interactive website to supplement the book! A rare instance in which I actually felt excited about an interconnected, multi-media, hypertext experience. Definitely my favorite use of QR codes so far.
An author I will definitely keep an eye out for in the future.
Every word she writes is delicious, but this might be her most visually gorgeous book yet, with fantastic b&w artwork by Andrea Carlson, Maxell mixtape labels, and QR codes leading you to her awesome video poems. Many of these poems curate other artworks and writings by Indigenous artists. Playful, witty, smart. I love how she is always pushing in new directions with each book.
Museum curators and librarians will adore these poems that riff on archaic media including QR codes, mix tapes, dark skies, endangered ecosystems and Native American language.
There was no Curator of Ephemera though if there were she would be me
“Once we suspended fire in the night sky / we could no longer see in the dark and darkness deserted us / we knew then the infinity of fire and how our fire hangs on us / How we must hang with fire.