Michael McDermott: Today, we will be talking with Lauren Camp. Lauren is a multitalented poet who used to do fiber work. We have several things to talk about that require collaboration. Lauren is the Poet Laureate of New Mexico and has various opportunities and duties. My favorite is opening the state legislature session.
So, Poet Laureate is a big one. Another one was technically called Astronomer-in-Residence at the Grand Canyon, and we’ll talk a lot more about dark skies and the experiences of people there.
Who did you work with as Poet Laureate? Can you tell us what kind of projects were taken up? And (we’re not here to talk about any super difficulties), but if there are any things we can learn from it.
Lauren Camp: Being selected state Poet Laureate has been a tremendous honor, but there was a learning curve as I tried to figure out what was possible and who to connect with to do the things I had in mind.
It took several months before I felt secure in the projects I wanted to do. I had many questions about how to make those happen, how even to find the people to connect with around the state.
So, from the perspective of collaboration, I had to learn more about the umbrella organizations that handle the Poet Laureate position, and what they could do to assist me.
Michael McDermott: And what was your experience with that? Is there anything that was hard or that you learned from that?
Lauren Camp: When I thought it was just me trying to organize and do everything on my own, that was hard because this is a big state geographically, and I had a lot of large dreams of what I could do to bring poetry and people together. Once I figured out how where to turn for help, suddenly there was more possibility.
Michael McDermott: And how did those dreams get presented to other folks or organizations, and how did that then help you to settle in?
Lauren Camp: The dreams got bigger, as did what I took on. Partway through the first year of my term, I started an ambitious project that I called the New Mexico Epic Poem Project. It is based loosely off a project I did at the Grand Canyon several months before. The Epic Poem Project is designed to, um, well, let me back up and explain it to you.
As Poet Laureate, I was encouraged to connect with the 33 counties of New Mexico in some way. And because we were just coming out of the pandemic, I wanted to go—like, feet on the ground, go—and meet with people in as many places as possible, and to work with them in various ways.
The Epic Poem Project events are an experience, and different in each place. The events have been in libraries, museums, art spaces, coffee shops, elementary schools, high schools, universities, and other places.
I read a few poems. We have a conversation around poetry, and an easy open mic. Then, I give them a series of prompts that help them to write about their community. I’ve partnered with New Mexico Arts, the state arts agency, for this project. We work together toward inclusive, nurturing events. Later on, we return to their responses, building them into a poem for each community.
Looking back through my tenure in this role, it is a whole web of collaborations that are helping to undergird this project.
I could not do this project by myself at all. I’m very aware of how much work goes into it—from my partner organization to the many hosting organizations to each individual, each community member, who shows up and bravely participates.
Michael McDermott: What was the most difficult part of that?
Lauren Camp: The logistics. Arranging the events, the dates and travel time.
We’re counting on each host organization to do the necessary promotion in their communities. Some are better equipped to do that. Each time we headed out, we had no idea how many would show up. The events themselves are pure joy. I mean, they really are for me, and hopefully, for everyone who joins us. They offer a chance to come together, connect, have a voice, hear other people, and write. I believe the local folks should have the chance to share about their community, their region, their part of New Mexico—how they experience it.
Michael McDermott: So let me understand more. This is in the context of traveling around to the various counties of the state as your responsibility. What’s the most fun about that?
Lauren Camp: Being with people in their home territories… that’s incredibly fun. It’s a joy to learn more about the different communities and honestly, to travel to them. This is such a beautiful state; it’s exciting to have reason to get on the road. But also, sometimes I’ll start the event by asking if there are any writers in the room, even “secret” writers. And there are always many, no matter where I go around the state. I like seeing that there is poetry everywhere. And the third most fun thing is putting the community poems together. So that leaves all the logistics, which are the less fun but necessary part to make each event happen.
Michael McDermott: And how do you travel?
Lauren Camp: Driving in my little white car!
Michael McDermott: Yourself?
Lauren Camp: Yes, or sometimes with the executive director of New Mexico Arts.
Michael McDermott: Yeah, I think these connections are so interesting. I mean, on the one hand, you’ve got factors that make it more likely for people to cooperate with you. But that’s not a guarantee. So it’s interesting to hear both partner organizations and individuals that are drawn into these events.
Did any of the poems get published?
Lauren Camp: Only one has been published—in the Academy of American Poets’ magazine, American Poets. The rest are embargoed by the state until we have the project all together.
But there’s another part of the project that grew out of these events and visits and conversations that I was having with New Mexico Arts over time. And that is the possibility of creating an anthology, which would gather these community poems together. We will do a call for artists from the 19 pueblos of New Mexico and the counties we have not been able to reach during my term. Putting together a book means yet another collaboration—with the artists and the press. By the time this is wrapped up, there will be so many organizations involved.
Michael McDermott: That sounds very exciting and impressive. I know you very well, I think, and I know how easy it is to cooperate with you and that your leadership is unending. So, I think to put you in the context of these people who want to come forward is most impressive. And I hope that an anthology along the lines of what you want gets done. Might we talk about the Grand Canyon?
Lauren Camp: Of course, I’d be so glad to!
Michael McDermott: Okay. Tell us how you became the Astronomer-in-Residence at the Grand Canyon.
Lauren Camp: Grand Canyon National Park put out a call for Astronomers-in-Residence, a new program in the format of the artist-in-residence programs that national parks across the country offer.
I believe this was the first Astronomer-in-Residence program in the country. Writers, or maybe even poets specifically, were listed among the examples of people they said could apply. They widened it beyond astronomers or people in the astronomy field. And because I saw that opening as a possibility, I applied.
I’m not an astronomer, but I crafted my application, sent it in, and was chosen as the fourth Astronomer-in-Residence for The Grand Canyon, following two astronomers and an astrophotographer.
Michael McDermott: And what did you do as the Astronomer-in-Residence?
Lauren Camp: I spent a glorious month at Grand Canyon in 2022. I planned some public programs for later in the month. Meanwhile, I had the chance to be in one of the wonders of the world, really trying to understand not just the history of the Grand Canyon, but also the further, deeper, older history of the cosmos.
Shortly after I got to Grand Canyon, the ranger who was deeply involved in setting up the program asked if I would create some dispatches for Grand Canyon’s social media platforms, so I got to work very quickly to start writing poems that they could post. That imminent deadline helped me to distill some of how I felt more quickly than is my usual process.
The public programs were set toward the end of the month because that was when the night sky conditions were best. For these presentations, I read poems I had curated across time and cultures—going back to the mid-700 A.D. through to other continents. Many different places, different perspectives on the night skies. And I read those out to invisible audiences in the dark who were listening and looking up, letting their eyes get dark-adapted to the night skies. And then a ranger did a laser-led constellation talk. We did that several times. Those were magnificent special programs.
Michael McDermott: I’m very interested in this. I think that we may have the opportunity to also publish a different activity, a different group of people on night skies. And from talking to you and others, I’ve become more aware of the Night Skies Movement. And I think that it’s deep, and it’s not something that we think about a lot.
How did people sign up for these evening dark sky activities? Who were the people? Were they ordinary tourists? Did you have to convince them the darkness was safe?
Lauren Camp: I did three such programs at Grand Canyon that first month I was there, and then I was invited back last summer for their Star Party. It was a huge honor to be invited to participate in that. I did a talk and reading. They said the audience was around 650 people.
A smaller group filtered out, following me for poem readings under the stars. The people who come to that don’t sign up; they just show up. And I don’t know who they are or what their interest is. Is it in the constellation talk? Is it in the combination? Is it in slowing down or learning more? Is it in letting the words wash over them?
I just did two similar programs—in Death Valley National Park in late February for their Dark Sky Festival, and a few weeks later, another version of the program in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. Each time, the conditions are slightly different, but in all ways, it’s words whispered out to an audience, it is poetry under the stars. I love doing it. I think it’s an extraordinary thing to be outside in the dark, letting people of this day and age where everything is too busy, letting people slow down and attend to something that is far wider and places us more deeply than whatever is going on in the world right now.
Michael McDermott: How did people respond? Were people frightened of the dark? Did they enjoy it? Was it a new thing for them?
Lauren Camp: These programs with the constellation talks were very safe and an unusual, communal experience of being in the dark. But I think maybe more pertinent to your question is learning how many people fear the dark in general.
When I was at Grand Canyon for that month, I wrote a lot of poems. I had been hearing about people being afraid of the dark. I’m not, or I’m not all the time, I should say. Perhaps only in areas that are dangerous, and I didn’t find Grand Canyon dangerous. After a while of writing from my own perspective of the night skies, I started looking to explore other understandings. One of my poems, “Fear of” grew from an internet search for what else people are afraid of, in addition to dark.
While I was at Grand Canyon for that month, I also undertook a rather large-scale collaborative project involving the tourists. I put out a call for Grand Canyon visitors to respond to statements and questions about the darkness in the park. Grand Canyon Conservancy, the nonprofit arm of Grand Canyon National Park, provided notecards and collection boxes for people’s written contributions in every GCC shop along the South Rim. After a few weeks, I had gathered hundreds of visitor responses. From those responses, I built what I called an “epic poem” about how others see the Grand Canyon and the night skies. This poem is included in my book, In Old Sky, that the Conservancy published after my residency.
Michael McDermott: Did you have any experiences where people talked about their fears about darkness and how the group dynamic helped them to, I won’t say, overcome, but to have a different feeling and perspective?
Lauren Camp: Not that anybody spoke to me about it, but each time I’ve done one of these programs, people come up and thank me for the chance to slow down or the chance to understand poetry differently or even just hear a poem, let it wash across them.
You know, I think sometimes when people are listening to poetry, they think they must get all of it. And while that’s fine, I think there are other ways for a poem to reach someone.
At Grand Canyon, three or four young people who were visiting from Poland came up and thanked me for reading a poem by a Polish poet that they knew. It was like a bit of home on their distant travels. My curated selection is mostly others’ poems and often I find that people respond and connect to different poems for various reasons. The response to these programs has been incredible and deeply satisfying. I love the blending of poetry with other forms, and have done so with art, music, dance, science—and now darkness.
Michael McDermott: As I mentioned, I’ve become aware of the Dark Skies Movement. Can you say more about that at the Grand Canyon and in your travels around the state?
Lauren Camp: Grand Canyon National Park was certified as an International Dark Sky Park in 2019. There are compliancy requirements to that, including retrofitting thousands of light fixtures to be downward-pointing, hooded, or amber-hued. All those lighting shifts help allow the dark skies to be more visible.
Death Valley, also an international dark sky park, covers a huge amount of acreage, a lot of which is not inhabited by humans, so already is unlit. But at the Dark Sky Festival, where I did a few programs in February, we could see the light bubbles coming from Las Vegas, a couple of hours away, and Los Angeles, which is many hours away.
It’s not like it takes a long time to enact change in this realm of environmental pollution. This change can happen quickly if people are willing to reduce their overuse of light. The Death Valley rangers had a simple message: if everybody in Las Vegas turned off their lights for a night, we would be able to see the dark skies that very night.
None of this means that people should go around being unable to see. But many places are too lit. Think about parking lots, especially car lots and big box stores. Those lots often overdo the lighting, which is unnecessary and disrupts the night skies. But—and this is important—that kind of light does not produce safety. Think about it: If you look into a bright light and then look away, you will effectively be blinded for a few moments. Such an intensity of light, intended to quell people’s fears of darkness, does not in any way reduce the danger of what could happen. In fact, it leaves us more open to missing the cues.
Michael McDermott: What were some of the reactions you could perceive from the public?
Lauren Camp: It was wonderful to watch people see the Milky Way for the first time or see a constellation for the first time. People were looking through telescopes and seeing things they’d never seen before.
You know, there are very few people in the country who can see the Milky Way where they live. Less than 20% of Americans get to have that experience. Of course, that’s because a lot of people are concentrated in urban areas that are very lit.
But then I look at Flagstaff, Arizona, recognized as the first international dark sky city in 2001. I was just there a month ago. It’s lit, but it’s lit in a way that the light goes down. It does not go up into the sky, so you can walk around downtown, get to the shops, bars, restaurants, and whatever you want to do, and still see the dark sky arcing over you.
Michael McDermott: I’m taken by the number on the Milky Way. As you know, I live in the country, and if the sky is clear, you see the Milky Way all the time. It’s just shocking to me.
I’ve been introduced to various constellations, but I don’t know them very well, but to watch Orion through the year change, it’s pretty impressive.
But I never thought of darkness per se in the way that people experience it there because they’re going from light into dark. And that experience is something special for them. And I assume not only was it expressing your responsibilities, but it must have been very emotionally satisfying, occasionally challenging. But I would think listening to people in their responses would be very interesting.
Lauren Camp: An appreciation of the night skies is something positive we all get to share. A self-selecting group of people show up for astronomy events—either because they’re curious or because they’re astronomy addicts. The people with the telescopes are usually volunteers from the local astronomical society who are excited to share their equipment and what night phenomena are visible, and to talk to the public. Some people just happen to be in that national park, and they have time. Often, I see parents with their kids who need an activity for the night. The program pulls them in.
And the rangers are always fantastic about sharing what they see and helping people learn. It’s been extraordinary to be with these various groups of people. To know when they leave, they have the wonders of the world in their vision. As do I.
Michael McDermott: Do you have any sense of what happens to them when they go home?
Lauren Camp: I hope that they go back to their homes and turn off the lights a little more often, like their porch lights when they don’t need them, or in some other way, change something.
After I was at the Grand Canyon and learning more and more about light pollution, I got serious about the lights in and around my own house. I changed out many light bulbs, some to red. I was inspired to try harder for my neighbors and for myself. I wanted to be better able to see.
Michael McDermott: I live in an area where there’s new housing going in, and it’s a challenge. I think putting people in a position where they have to experience more of their surroundings is important. This is one very encompassing experience, I would think, going into that dark darkness.
Lauren Camp: It really is. At these various dark-sky events, I can never see the people I am talking to at all. It’s a different sort of conversation. I’m not just chatting. It’s not small talk. I am talking about very specific things. I’m talking about poetry, or I’m talking about poetry and the night skies, or I’m talking about how incredible the Orion Nebula looks through this particular telescope and how it’s different from what I saw over here at this other scope.
But another thing darkness does, and here I mean a safe kind of darkness, is it makes us focus. People can’t multitask. It’s impossible to be out there doing all the things we do in real life, all the busyness. We’re in the dark in a place where we all need to keep the darkness pristine. No phones light up. It’s often quiet. Nearly a religious experience in some ways. It’s surreal and lovely. These events are a kind of special set of circumstances, an experience that is a not much like real, ordinary life.
Michael McDermott: In traveling around as New Mexico Poet Laureate, how do the events of the day come up? You know, the changes in the country and the environment? How do how do those issues sneak in?
Lauren Camp: Sometimes they don’t, honestly. I am traveling to parts of the state that have different political leanings than the part of the state I live in. So, there are certain subjects I don’t go anywhere near. If they don’t come up from the audience, and they rarely do, I don’t bring them to the table.
My focus when I go is to highlight the residents’ voices and their community. Our conversations and the writing and reading center around that, whether that’s the university-based community of Las Cruces, which is the second largest city, or the tiny town of Reserve, in west central New Mexico, which has a population around 300, or anything in between.
Sometimes, it comes up when people stand up at the open mic to read, and that’s fine. But mostly, I steer clear of it. I’m talking about things related to New Mexico. One of the poems that I read periodically as I go around the state is a poem about New Mexico’s worst weed. That weed is such a terror, and it’s everywhere across the state. That’s something we share, whereas environmental views and political views may or may not be something we have in common.
Michael McDermott: What did you learn about collaboration that you might not have experienced before? What were the skills that you could apply? What were the difficulties that you might have had personally?
Lauren Camp: You know, I came to poetry through a career as a visual artist, and those years I worked on my artwork hour upon hour by myself. It was a solitary endeavor. This is part of the reason I don’t do it anymore.
The act of writing is also solitary, but this Poet Laureate role has pulled me into collaborations in so many fields and with many different types of people. I’ve learned to be patient because there are other people involved, so things don’t always happen at the pace I want them to or not in the way I might think I want them to. On the other hand, they might turn into something far better than I can imagine. That’s been quite a lesson.
I could not have done everything I’ve done in this role without a heck of a lot of help, and that help is sometimes an equal partner. Sometimes, it’s someone just saying, we’ll put the word out to our library patrons, or we’ll put a sign up on our window. There are so many ways that I have learned to respect the interconnectedness that makes these activities possible.
Michael McDermott: What can you say about getting out there and collaborating with people in daily life?
Lauren Camp: There’s something different about the kind of collaboration I’m doing in this Poet Laureate role versus a regular job or interactions with family. In those cases, you’re dealing with the same people day after day, right? You know them; you know what to expect. Most of the people I’ve worked with in this role are people I’m just meeting for the first time on the day of the event. Though I’ve often communicated with them, through email or phone, that’s all. I show up at their door, and there’s really this opportunity for trust. I’m counting on them, and they’re counting on me. We don’t know each other, but that’s one astounding thing about collaboration. You don’t know where it’s going to go. You’re kind of letting go a little bit, and that can be good for creativity, too.
Michael McDermott: I think it’s interesting that you say that. You think of making connections, but at the same time, as you put it, there’s a letting go. So you’re both connecting and, on your side or somebody else’s side, letting go of things as well.
Lauren Camp: Yes, absolutely. I think it is an acceptance of other actions and directions. With one or more other participants, it is likely to go in a direction you might not have planned. And that might mean I earn something more than I could have expected.
I’ll give you a recent example. I traveled south a few hours to Socorro, New Mexico with the Executive Director of New Mexico Arts (my partner organization) to do a New Mexico Epic Poem Project event. We planned to stay over and travel the 3 or so hours west the next day to Reserve, near the border of Arizona for another Epic Poem Project event and drive home that day from there.
As we headed south toward the event in Socorro, we drove into blizzarding conditions. The city of Socorro was entirely shut down by the time we got there. The schools had closed. Government buildings, restaurants. Everything was shut. But the library was open, and that’s where our event was. Because everything was closed and the roads were treacherous, we hardly had an audience for the event. Three people—among them a librarian and a professor at the neighboring university.
Of course, that was disappointing because we had traveled to get there and needed the community’s responses to build their poem. But it worked out in surprising ways. These two women enthusiastically offered to take the project to patrons and other groups that they worked with to help gather responses. Then, they mailed those many responses to me, giving me enough material to build a rich poem for their community.
So that’s one example of you not knowing what you’re going toward and what will happen. You don’t know who will step up to help and how they will help.
Michael McDermott: Can you explain the project?
Lauren Camp: In each community that I go into, I am asking the audience members to respond to certain things related to that community. I’m not asking them to write poems. I’m asking them to write little responses. I gather those, curate the parts that I want to use, and from that, build a poem about their community that is entirely in their words. By the end of my term, I hope to have visited 29 counties around New Mexico, resulting in a unique poem for each community. These poems will be printed as letterpress broadsides with one gifted back to each community and a second held for an exhibit.
Many of the people in the communities we’ve visited have never identified as poets, some have never met a poet, and have never thought they could write a poem. But they helped me see their home place just by participating. Hopefully, their words—and these finished poems—will help others to experience their home region.
Working collaboratively requires you to leave some space for what other people will bring to the project. You have to allow that it could be more than what you have dreamt it to be.
Michael McDermott: That’s a good expression. I like that. Allow it to be more than you originally may have thought.
