Interview with Samuel Wagan Watson

3 september 2011 Michael Brennan: When did you start writing and what motivated you?

Samuel Wagan Watson: I was brought up in a household of storytellers and writers and was nurtured at a very early age to utilise and develop any creative energy that I had. Thankfully I was also blessed with teachers in primary and high school who encouraged my ability. At the close of my primary schooling, a teacher entered one of my short stories in a state-wide literary competition. The judges remarked that it was the worst piece of writing they had ever read!

I started writing in primary school and had my work entered into competitions by my teachers. We were made to keep journals, and that was a very important regime in my life – it still is. In the early years of high school, I’d listen to my Dad belt out the last drafts of his first novel in the middle of the night. He had an old Olympus typewriter. I then overheard him negotiating his book deal with Penguin. So it just seemed natural for me to write as well.

My Nanna’s cousin was Kath Walker and my Aunty Maureen Watson was on her way to winning a Red Ochre award in poetry. If you weren’t a writer in my family, you were an artist of some sort.

In my 20s I attempted a degree in film, and for the better part of a decade worked in the Queensland film industry. I recognised poetry as a very low-maintenance art form, as opposed to film, and while trying to develop scripts for the local market sent examples of my poetry to literary journals. Six poems were published in a space of six weeks! During this time my father published his first novel, The Kadaitcha Sung, with Penguin Australia. Following Dad to literary festivals, I began to recognise the viability and challenges of writing as a career.

I suppose another motivation at that time for me was the fact that I went to a good high school that had a few very ‘red-necked’ teachers. When I made them aware that I wanted to follow a career in the arts, I was attacked. “Do you want to be a poofter?! The Arts are for POOFTERS! You have the talent to be a draftsman or a cabinet maker . . . That’s what you should do!” Growing up, I had many extended aunties and uncles who were homosexual – all good friends of the family – and their ability to think and work creatively had made great contributions to arts and culture in Australia and overseas. Their stories and achievements were amazing! Their creative outlook on life was inspiring!

I worked in graphic design and film; two mediums that back then, and probably still now, were ‘heavy maintenance’ art forms, unlike writing. I also grew up with Dad’s stories of how Uncle Kevin Gilbert and other writers in jail would ‘smuggle’ their manuscripts out to the world, how writers wrote and published under persecution in other communities. I understood from an early age how viable creativity can be!

The ‘buzz’ of creativity has always been my main motivation. Every day I walk into my office and instantly I’m ‘spinning’ concepts as a conceptual writer in radio. The challenge of fitting a complex message into a series of 90-second time slots all depends on my ability to creatively interpret the subject for my client and my audience. We’ve done some good things in my team and have managed to win a few national media awards.

MB: Who are the writers who first inspired you to write and who are the writers you read now? What’s changed?

Samuel Wagan Watson: My Dad was one of the first Indigenous journalists with ABC in Brisbane – so naturally I read a lot of Hugh Lunn – a Brisbane journo. Which led me to discover Dr Gonzo Thompson. That just led me astray! I had an old Nikon and a notebook and that’s all I thought I needed. Problem was; I didn’t take capture good photos. I couldn’t take photos as well as I could weave short paragraphs of prose-poetry.

I found a collection of Robert Adamson’s poetry in the family library and that was a wonderfully insightful turning point in my writing! Thankfully, I’ve met and worked alongside Bob – he’s just a great old fisherman who can’t stop transcribing the tides of his journeys.

We have an 11-month-old baby in the house, so I’m only reading emails and Facebook notifications on a daily basis.

I had many influences from musicians, filmmakers, photo-journalists, poets and authors. The film Apocalypse Now by Francis Ford Coppola made a huge impact on my artistic vision.  Coppola conceived this movie from Joseph Conrad’s novel Heart of Darkness which I still pick up and read from time to time. Featured in the film is a captivating performance by Marlon Brando as the renegade American officer Kurtz who recites T.S. Eliot’s ‘The Hollow Men’ – a poem that has haunted my artistic conscience ever since.

l prefer the pages of Rolling Stone magazine than anything literary . . . especially writings by the late Gonzo king, Hunter S. Thompson.

I love comics and graphic novels and would still love to create my own some day. I shattered my wrist last month (right hand – the writing hand – trying to be a photo-journo; but I didn’t drop the camera!) and I’m a bit worried about that because I adore pens and paper. My poetry has been translated into animation and I’d really like to pursue that again soon, but I need my drawing skills to storyboard my concepts.

I have a small collection of books at home and they’re mostly from writers who I’ve met, travelled and worked with.

It’s worrying to see that two major book stores/chains have wound up in my hometown – I worry about ‘books’ in general and the future of ‘poetry-lists’ with the country’s publishing houses. It’s just not the same to download a selection of poetry from Amazon to my iPad . . . It’s just not the same!

MB: How important is 'everyday life' to your work?

Samuel Wagan Watson: I’m the writer-in-residence for 98.9FM in Brisbane – one of the country’s premier Indigenous radio stations – a family legacy! When the floods came through Queensland this year, we lost a lot of equipment – sound desks that Kev Carmody and Warumpi Band recorded on.

Growing up as their work evolved has really impressed upon me the importance of ‘everyday life’ in my writing, the beautiful simplicity of their songs were woven out of the complexities of their everyday lives. That’s where the importance of keeping a journal comes into play!

My wife thinks I’m mad when I get up in the middle of the night and start writing – but she’s a wonderful artist too – Helen just worries, and that’s warranted, because I’ve had several strokes and I suffer from fatigue every day.  But capturing everyday life is the muse of the artist. It’s my ‘gas tank’ and it fuels my work.

The other day I was asked to quickly develop a 2-minute promo about dental hygiene in my community – so I delivered a script within a couple of minutes about a recalcitrant individual who hated the dentist, and his wife couldn’t understand him because his mouth was inflamed by an infection. A straight scene from everyday life and it sounds comical to the audience. The client loved it and now the message has been played on high rotation. That’s poetry . . . that’s everyday life!

MB: What is the role or place of subjectivity in your poetry?

Samuel Wagan Watson: I don’t think of the term ‘subjectivity’ in my usual practice, and it’s a term I’ve rarely used, but obviously, it is important.

MB: Do you see your work in terms of literary tradition/s and/or broader cultural or political movements?

Samuel Wagan Watson: Just being published and pigeon-holed as an Indigenous writer is political in itself. Lionel Fogarty is from my father’s tribe – the Munanjali people – and quite a few of us are published. That’s probably about as close to ‘tradition’ as we can get?!

MB: What aspect of writing poetry and working as a poet is the most challenging?

Samuel Wagan Watson: Paying the rent hasn’t been a problem of late, but then again, I don’t write poetry every day, although my daily quota of writing is completed because I deploy the same skills that have helped maintain my involvement in poetry.

Poetry in Brisbane and Queensland survives by the skin of its teeth from being sucked into a vacuum of non-commercial viability. We don’t do as well as our novelists. Some poets just don’t want Rimbaud to die! That lifestyle of the wandering poet/adventurer can’t be replicated every Sunday afternoon in a Brisbane coffee shop or poker-machine lounge!

I was lucky that several novelists and arts managers saw the viability of ‘introducing’ their readings with my poetry to ‘warm’ the audience. But then, we had an Arts Minister who was a poet and poetry was at the forefront of the State’s Arts Industry – much to the disgust of many bureaucrats and artists. The late 1990s until 2007 were ‘Golden Years’ in Brisbane if you were an emerging and established poet. I worked as a freelance speech-writer, television presenter and script developer. My poetry was permanently placed into works of public art in and around Brisbane. A short poem of mine opens the 2002 Queensland Government Cultural Statement. Somehow my work was launched into space on the international space station. They were good years and I travelled all around the world as a writer-in-residence. Unfortunately, it all came down to economic viability. Poets don’t make money for the State!

The saddest day in the contemporary history of Australian poetry was the loss of Aunty Dorothy Porter. Now there was a poet who could write and attract business! A real role model! If every city had a poet with Dorothy Porter’s creativity and vision, then we’d have an ‘industry’ instead of a ‘fringe’ movement that follows the literary festivals. Greater opportunities need to exist for poetry so it can be consumed as ‘the main course’ at a literary dinner, rather than being a tasty entrée.

Recently I co-wrote a show for the Adelaide Cabaret Festival. It was very successful and in a way it went in the vein of what Dorothy Porter achieved, what Luke Davies has achieved, by allowing their writing to be so versatile and attractive to wider audiences. So more of my work now will involve collaborations with musicians and digital mediums like video – poetic themes for wider broadcast capacity.

MB: What reading, other than poetry, is important to your work as a poet and why?

Samuel Wagan Watson: Science fiction and world affairs are quite important to me at the moment. Contemporary-arts literature and biographies about musicians are also very valuable to me also, especially if the writer comes from a music industry background.

I keep a tattered copy of On the Road in my bag and it’s accompanied me all over the world.  When I need to escape, I just open it to any page and begin reading. And you know, it’s not great writing but it captures the moments of the road perfectly!

MB: What is ‘Australian poetry’? Do you see yourself as an ‘Australian’ poet?

Samuel Wagan Watson: I don’t see myself as an ‘Australian’ poet until I’m actually performing outside of Australia. It’s an odd way to exist. I’ve shared a podium with some fantastic ‘Australian’ poets and I understand their position. I’ll never be a Les Murray. I’ll never be as dedicated to the form as Dorothy Porter – but it was a pleasure to work alongside those artists! I’m more comfortable being a Brisbane writer. The muddy swell of the tides have been a good muse!

My audience is a diverse mixture of peoples. Lately, I’ve been offered several commissions; from cabaret festivals to leading newspapers. In my day-to-day work in the radio station, I primarily concentrate on an Australian Indigenous audience . . . My workplace is also a ‘Country Music’ hub – the only one in Queensland – so I’m listening to more Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash on a daily basis than I ever have . . . Yet I still love Radiohead and the Pixies!

At times I don’t know where I sit in the Australian realm of literature, although I’ve shared podiums with some incredibly talented national and international poets and authors, I sometimes still see myself and my writing as an emerging entity and maybe just a passenger on this obscure vehicle that my writing pushes.

MB: Don Anderson once described Australian poetry as Australia’s only ‘blood sport’. More recently critics have seen Australian poetry in terms of a ‘new lyricism’ (David McCooey) and ‘networked language’ (Philip Mead). What is the current state of play in Australian poetry? How do you think Australia poetry and discussions about Australian poetry might best develop in the next ten years?

Samuel Wagan Watson: I’ve seen blood on the podium definitely, and I’ve seen blood in editorial meetings, blood that critics have spilled and the outright jealousy in the blood of some of my contemporaries. (I once witnessed an established poet down south walk into a festival and make the obscene proclamation that ‘HE’ was the ONLY poet at the whole festival!!!) It can bring the good, bad and ugly blood out of the artist. 

Let’s face it; there aren’t many opportunities for poets who want recognition and opportunities. The big publishing desks don’t like a poetry manuscript being dropped onto them. That’s where the jealousy starts. When you have a publisher and distributor behind you, you really have to be creative if you want to create an opening for your friends. I haven’t been active for a little while – Australia has its pockets of poetry, but it’s still a hard sell to get poetry into the pockets of Australians. 

MB: How is poetry relevant or valuable to contemporary society and culture in Australia or at an international level?

Samuel Wagan Watson: Poetry exists at a high level in Australia advertising and media – but that kind of poetry makes $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$!  Yet, it’s not recognised as poetry – it’s campaign writing, spin, jingles!

Poets are encouraged in the nation’s private schools – and there’s just as many poets in our prisons that are dedicated to the form. Some people would find that statement a silly ‘moot-point’, but I find the irony fascinating! Australia is still very much a nation of convicts, and poetry is a victim and victor of Australia’s institutions!