The Watermill Center is an extraordinary interdisciplinary laboratory for the arts and humanities nestled on Long Island's East End. Situated on ten acres of Shinnecock ancestral territory, this creative haven offers artists from around the world the unique opportunity to engage in collaborative projects and exploration. Through year-round artist residencies and education programs, The Watermill Center provides a dynamic environment where creativity flourishes. We spoke with the Director of Programming Nicole Martorana to learn more about how The Watermill Center seeks to demystify the artistic process and foster a global community dedicated to creating and inspiring, especially in their new collaboration with the Adinkra Poetry Prize. We also spoke with and Beah Batakou (A’bena Awuku-Larbi), winner of the 2023 Adinkra-Watermill Residency, who was selected out of the five winners for her project SÌN, which sheds light on the intricate vulnerabilities and resilience of African women amidst the climate crisis.

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Thank you for making the time to chat with us. Can you share briefly about yourself and your role in helping artists reach their own goals at Watermill. 

Nicole: I spent the first part of my career as a creative producer in New York, which seeded a passion for collaborating with artists to develop new work. In my role as Director of Programming at The Watermill Center, I am fortunate to welcome artists from across the globe and across disciplines, so no two cohorts -- or two days -- are alike. I love seeing how time at The Center can impact a piece or an idea and how that impact can become an indelible part of the project going forward. Different projects have different needs, so sometimes being of service to the artist and the work means watching, listening, and giving good feedback, while other times it means simply giving artists the quiet time they've been craving. 

 In considering this idea of impact, what are you looking forward to the most in Watermill’s collaboration with the Adinkra Poetry Prize. 

N: We are so honored to be partnering with the Adinkra Poetry Prize. Given that we are a multi-disciplinary residency, sometimes people forget that writers are an enormous and critical part of our community. It is especially exciting to be welcoming Ghanaian artists in particular to Watermill. Reaching more artists on the African continent is something we have been actively pursuing and through our deep relationships with alumni like Afua, who brought this idea to us, we know that this partnership will enrich the experience of all artists that come through the space. 

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We're so excited to finally have this conversation with you Beah. Can you tell us about yourself— not the kind of things we would read in a bio.

Beah:I am a seeker. Exploration defines my very being. Life is like an expansive amusement park, and I possess the ultimate pass. I choose to freely indulge in the pursuit of my desires, to fearlessly chase after what others deem impossible, and to immerse myself in extraordinary experiences.

I express my activism through this approach. Being an activist, I value the freedom to choose. I strongly believe that every individual, irrespective of their identity, should have the chance to seize opportunities and have control over their own lives, without any limitations imposed by external influences.

All-time favorite songs:

Girls Want to Have Fun  Cyndi Lauper 

Try Everything  Shakira

Bohemian Rhapsody  Queen
                                 

How has your identity as an artivist evolved over time, and what role do you see it playing in your current project at Watermill Center?

The shame of being labeled as poor was so intense, the fear of not measuring up so deep, it made me question my very existence: Who am I in this world? What is my worth as an individual? The desperate attempt to distance myself from any association with poverty directed my focus towards the root of my anxiety. What could be so terrible about being poor in a place where everyone else was either wealthy or appeared to be comfortable? 

As a sickly child, I had to master the art of concealing my pain, ensuring that I didn't burden others with discomfort. I had to cultivate a stubborn sense of pride. I grew up teetering on the edge of the poverty line. We ate whatever we could find. Our home was located on the outskirts of a school park, within a compound that lacked a gate. Sometimes, when there was no water, we would trek for miles across different neighborhoods to fetch it. We received a Catholic education in a government school. Each day brought new challenges, so we learned to live day by day. Although things looked comparatively better, I was aware that we were not living comfortably. We were just one crisis away from complete disaster. 

Upon reaching the threshold of adulthood, I recognized the reality of my situation - a trifecta of poverty encompassing the body, mind, and spirit. There was no need to sugarcoat it with political correctness. When you are impoverished, life constantly reminds you that you cannot afford any unnecessary distractions, but I always sought an escape. Sometimes, during the night, I would sneak away to the school park and lie on my back, arms and legs outstretched, waiting for something to happen. I lost myself in fairytales and romance novels. I clung tightly to the belief in a savior. Growing up in a society that perpetuates gender-based power dynamics, where women are undervalued and their roles diminished, and where men hold dominion over women, I internalized the notion that my freedom hinged on catering to the desires and priorities of men, particularly those in positions of authority. It's hard to fathom the extent of damage this worldview inflicted upon me. Have you ever considered the consequences mentioned in the Bible for those who rely on men and depend on their limited abilities? Well, let me tell you, I endured a life filled with misfortune. Simply put, I saw shege. My life took a drastic turn from “comfortable poverty” to residing in the darkest depths of Satan’s toenails. 

As I reached a point of despair and lost hope in life, I unexpectedly discovered Wuxia and Xianxia, captivating genres of Chinese literature that delve into the thrilling escapades of martial artists and immortal cultivators in ancient China. It was within the pages of my initial novels, which showcased courageous female warriors, that I found the catalyst for my personal transformation. Immersed in the realms of alternate history and mythology, I came to a profound realization - the power to shape my own reality was within my grasp. During that particular phase, I embarked on a quest to discover my true voice. Countless hours were devoted to deep meditation, where I found myself groaning and praying fervently. It was a time of sheer madness, as chaos and tranquility alternated within me. And then, in a moment of revelation, I finally heard it - my voice, resonating with my unique language. As time went on, I realized that this phenomenon was referred to by various names, depending on one's perspective - prophecy, prayer, spiritual endowment, enchantment... even poetry.

My voice, my language and my poetry are simply breathtaking. It stands out like a vibrant crimson flower amidst a pure white snowfall. It embodies the divine presence within me, a true manifestation of God's grace and beauty. Poetry became my sanctuary, my language of liberation. Within its verses, I could fully unleash my groans and frustrations.  I could scream out my frustrations and eloquently express my thoughts in ways that others could only speculate about, unable to truly comprehend. I grew audacious with it, constantly pushing its boundaries. Eventually, I realized that by sharing my poetry with others, I was offering them the chance to learn from our shared experiences while reflecting on their own - just as the novels and books I devoured had done for me. 

For the past few years, I've been pondering how to raise awareness about the state of our environment. It's disheartening to witness the earth crumbling before our eyes. I can see the anguish reflected in her gaze, as if she's been oppressed for far too long. Whatever is happening to the earth is directly impacting humanity. It's as if my own body no longer feels like my own. The ailment that's sapping the earth's vitality is gradually infiltrating our beings, and its effects are worsening. We discuss the symptoms and signs, yet struggle to pinpoint the root cause - poverty.  

In the context of climate justice and sustainability, this diagnosis prompts us to ponder the true meaning of poverty. It compels us to question what is happening to our precious planet and how poverty is affecting it. Moreover, it urges us to explore ways to restore the earth's well-being and make her whole again. Amidst all these concerns, we also wonder where poetry fits into this grand narrative. The Watermill Artist Residency Program offers me a unique opportunity to uncover the answers to these burning questions. By fully immersing myself in a fresh and inspiring environment, I can delve into uncharted territories of artistic techniques, materials, and styles that will undoubtedly illuminate these very questions.

Thank you for sharing this deeply profound experience with us. Now let’s talk about your project. Can you tell us a little bit more about its connection to As your work deals with climate change?: how  do you envision the poetry project you will create at Watermill Center as interdisciplinary? 

My project is SÌN. 

SÌN, the Fon term for water, holds a significant place in my mother's language. It goes beyond its literal meaning and delves into the very core of African womanhood and its profound relationship with the natural world. African women, through their labor that is attuned to the earth, not only shape their own social identities but also sustain their communities. The concept may seem vague and unclear, yet I perceive the African woman’s relationship with water as the answer to the poverty of the earth.  But how can this be achieved? In what manner? And what connection does this have with poetry? SÌN is intended to be a powerful testament to the interplay between politics, climate change, and power dynamics, where battles are fought through displacement, exclusion, and the commodification of the earth and where the African woman is placed in all of this.

The central focus of this work revolves around the intersection of gender and climate justice, a matter of importance in our society. In the realm of activism, we delve into the concept of intersectionality, which highlights the idea that social relations encompass various overlapping forms of discrimination. Grasping the concept of intersectionality enables us to understand how different types of discrimination intertwine and exacerbate inequality.

The objective of this project is to bring to light the intricate vulnerabilities and resilience of African women amidst the climate crisis. I must confess that comprehending the misunderstandings, complex cultural conflicts, and symbolic clashes entwined in this issue poses a challenge for me. Furthermore, I find myself constrained by established practices and my own biases, relying on a limited range of personal experiences and methods of engaging people. To present an honest and genuine narrative of African women and the climate crisis, I must embrace new ways of thinking, expand my vocabulary, and collaborate with new partners.

Art goes beyond being a mere tool for communication by reshaping stories and embracing diverse forms of expression. It creates an environment that sparks curiosity, sparks conversations, and inspires action on crucial societal matters that intersect with gender and other feminist topics. To refine the project and smoothen its imperfections, the valuable insights, contributions, and feedback from my collaborators from various fields are immensely valuable.

We are excited and look forward to reading this project in the future.  On a lighter note, how did you celebrate when you learned you had won the residency despite being a runner-up for the prize? 

When I received the email, I thought to myself "Ah-ahn shey na scam be dis one?". I ignored it and continued with my day. I'm accustomed to working hard and facing challenges before good things come my way. I didn't expect to win. I applied because I could and wanted to give it a try. Later, I shared my day with my partner and mentioned it to him. That's when it truly sank in. He asked me to read the email out loud, which I did, and then he started celebrating and singing. It was a moment of realization for me. He then praised me in Igbo (which I love). After that, he gave me a lecture on why I deserved it and why I should take poetry seriously. Later that week, I went to the gym and pushed myself even harder, then treated myself to a plate of grilled grouper and ginger tea.

You have a lovely and supportive partner, and this win is well deserved. If you could collaborate with any artist, living or deceased, on a poetry project, who would it be and why? What do you imagine the creative process would be like?

Àkpà Árinzèchukwu, Nigerian Poet

He possesses unwavering faith in writing as a profession. His adoration for poetry and all forms of art is evident. It is a profound and enduring love that can almost be felt. While I write about freedom, he delves into the depths of grief. It's as if I am running away while he runs towards. He takes pleasure in tradition and history. His work themes and values mirror mine. This may pose a challenge in collaboration as our approaches to life are nearly opposite. 

When it comes to the creative process, people with a creative inclination, such as writers, are often associated with having unconventional mental states. This has led to the belief that the most extraordinary art originates from uncontrolled environments. We both subscribe to this belief. Therefore, I envision a disorderly process of attempting to bridge our differences, understanding each other's perspectives, and establishing a form of communication that surpasses our comfort zones. I consider it a chaotic process because during our collaboration on Poem-A-Day in Translation, intense emotions were at play. Although we ultimately appeared harmonious and peaceful, we occasionally clashed. I personally enjoy engaging in spirited debates as it fuels my passion, while he prefers a serene tranquility. However, many of our greatest inspirations have emerged from the clash between opposing forces, much like the interaction between water and fire.  When we work together, art happens to us, like a combustion.

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For partnership and support email:adinkrapoetryprize@gmail.com