Dale M. Kushner
// Author & WriterDALE M. KUSHNER is an author, writer, and Founder of The Writer’s Place, a literary center in Madison, Wisconsin. She is a recipient of a Wisconsin Arts Board Grant in the Literary Arts and has been honored by a fellowship to the Wurlitzer Foundation, The Ragdale Foundation, and the Fetzer Institute. Her poetry collection “More Alive Than Lions Roaring” has been a finalist for the Tupelo Prize and Prairie Schooner Book Award, and her first novel “The Conditions of Love” (2013) is available from Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and independent bookstores. Dale is involved with the Core Faculty at The Assisi Institute, and is Poetry Editor for The Journal of Pastoral Counseling and Care.
Website: www.dalemkushner.com
Photo: Harriet Chen
Interview:
“ART’S EMBRACE”
Have you ever read a book, seen a movie, or found yourself repeating lyrics you swear were lifted from your life? Have you ever been blown away by riffing guitars? Ever stared into the eyes of a stranger in a photograph and felt a shudder of recognition? Has a painting of a battle given you the chills? Art presents someone else’s version of the world that we recognize as our own.
The creation of art is a basic human instinct that cuts across all cultures. Tribal chiefs, medicine men, and before them, our primordial ancestors lived in a world in which art wasn’t Art, it was a sacred head-dress, a holy bead necklace, a ritual clay pot. It was the song sung to the spirits to praise their generosity or request help. Art was what we lived and how we spoke to the Divine. Shamans, our first poets, brought us survival-chants from the gods.
This yearning to connect with a spiritual world has not disappeared, only gone underground. As a writer, I tell stories, one of the oldest of human arts. All of us tell stories—to ourselves, to others. Gossip is story; texting is story; dream is story. Everywhere on earth, people exchange stories and through the interchange recognize their kinship with a vast human family. It’s almost impossible to imagine a world without stories, music, painting, dance—symbolic representations of our deepest emotions. We may cry out to God for help, but we are also pack animals. We need our packs. Without them, we’re wild with loneliness. When we compose a symphony because an unstoppable melody pushes to get out, what brings us joy —its creation—becomes a gift to others.
Art fortifies our capacity for compassion, which means “to suffer with,” by allowing us to step into experiences radically different from our own. Here’s an example: I read a novel about an African boy forced into a terrorist organization. The boy becomes a soldier for the cause. I’m horrified by the actions of the group, but as I read the book I feel the terror the boy must feel. I understand his bewilderment, his rage, his fear—feelings like my own. My world and the African boy’s world come a bit closer, and because I more deeply understand his helplessness and sorrow, I can forgive the perpetuation of violence. Another example: ever think you’d cry over a vampire’s troubles? In the world of pop culture, vampires have their tragedies, and their moral dilemmas. Who knew a vampire’s life could be so tough!
Art fosters empathy, breaks down our sense of isolation, speaks to our longing for permanence and marriage to the Divine. I must have known this as a child. I never dreamed of being a writer, but my head buzzed with other universes where I was not alone. At night while my family slept, I conversed with my dolls and together we inhabited a secret world. They bore witness to my dreads and sorrows. They laughed at my jokes. Though I never wrote down our conversations, my writing life had begun.
Writing a novel transformed me. “The Conditions of Love” took years to write during which time I faced many upheavals. I learned I had to ignore the scary movies in my head, movies about one type of failure or another. I discovered that even without a map to the territory, I had the courage to stay with my project and face the unknown. I had to forgive myself over and over for being self-critical; I learned that without compassion for myself I would sink. My writing raised difficult subjects, but I kept going spurred by the intention of telling the truth. Determined I was and am. Writing a novel showed me I could endure a kind of suffering similar to prolonged labor without the guarantee that a baby would be born.
Every piece of art is a statement about the human condition, every effort to create, a reflection of our tender, brutal, poignant selves. Art inserts its presence into our lives because it is life-giving and because we would not be quite human without it.
“Art fortifies our capacity for compassion, which means “to suffer with.””
– Dale M. Kushner, Author & Writer
