An Interview with Elizabeth Alexander

Abstract

An Interview with Elizabeth Alexander Christine Phillip (bio) Click for larger view View full resolution Elizabeth Alexander photo by Barbara Kigosi. This interview was conducted via telephone on Thursday, February 22, 1996. CHRISTINE PHILLIP: You have added a new dimension to your writing. Already established as a poet and essayist, you have now ventured into drama. Your first play, Diva Studies, was staged by the Yale Drama School in May 1996. Does the theater offer new avenues for creation and expression not available in other genres? ELIZABETH ALEXANDER: It absolutely does. First of all, in my poetry, I am always borrowing what I think of as poetic vernacular language. I am fascinated by the distinctly wonderful ways that people talk, particularly the ways that black people can talk. So what seems exciting about working in the theater is that borrowed language is put back into live bodies when actors embody the language. The issue of audience is also important. Those who love poetry are true devotees. A poetry reading audience is rarely as large as most theater audiences. When a book of poems is published, probably a thousand copies are printed, even if the book’s hand to hand life is greater than that. But hundreds of people see a play on a single night. Of course, what is completely different about working in the theater is that it is collaborative. Even though I have found that to be difficult, as I am used to working in solitude, it’s wonderful to receive other peoples’ expertise to help realize your work. There is something very moving to me about other people devoting their skills to making my words live. I am actively learning about that difficult, exciting new dimension of writing. PHILLIP: As a poet and essayist, you have a great deal of control over your work. Do you have that same kind of control as a playwright? What is it like to see your work manifested through the eyes and voices of others? ALEXANDER: When I got to see, for the first time, the beautiful costume drawings and model sets the designers had made, it was completely thrilling. As a poet, I don’t talk about my work very much at all. In fact, I think that when you talk about poetry before you’ve written it, it kills it. Talk is only a substitute for writing, and the only thing you are supposed to be doing is writing. The part that is perhaps the hardest is that I’ve had to get used to talking about my work before it’s finished, showing my work to people, to the director, Leah Gardiner, and the dramaturge, Elizabeth Ackerman, before it is finished. Aside from simply getting over the ego part—I don’t [End Page 493] like to let my work go until it’s polished—it’s unsettling. I’m really, really used to pouring all my energy into making the work so that it can speak for itself. What you get back from collaboration is that the dramaturge and director have come to know my characters, they’ve helped me see who those characters are through their eyes. Also, what I have found is that going from the very small scale, miniaturist, meticulous world of poetry, it’s hard for me this first go ‘round to hold on to the architecture of an entire full-length play. So my collaborators have helped me understand the overall structure and the overall curvature of what it is I’m trying to make, and then make explicit threads that tie it all together. That training is a different kind of mind training than mine, which is more language-based and image-generated. And, of course, there’s nothing like watching wonderful actors bring your words to life. PHILLIP: What sparked your interest in the theater, and what is your association with the Yale School of Drama? ALEXANDER: Those two answers are related. My interest in theater has been lifelong because I grew up dancing ballet and then modern dance quite seriously through my teenage years. Then when I was in college, I did some choreography and a little bit of...