In this feature, we ask writers from one area of the country
to discuss the meaning of place and how their neighborhood, city, or state
plays a role in their work. In this edition we asked Virgogray Press
editor/publisher Michael Casares about the Austin/San Antonio region of Texas
and the similarities and differences between the literary scenes in these two
cities, which are much closer geographically than most people realize, and yet
are very different in so many ways. Because a couple of other poets fell
through for various reasons (illness, scheduling, etc.), I decided to step up
to the plate and add my two bits to the discussion, since I spent 1/3 of my
life living in San Antonio off and on over the years.
1. What does your respective city mean to you as an artist
and how does it affect your work?
Michael: I had to mull on these questions for a while because I was born inSan
Antonio , lived there most my life, and transplanted
down the road to Austin a few years
ago. What Austin means for me is
opportunity. For my work that just means growth. As a writer and a publisher, I
pretty much do the same thing that I’ve been doing when I lived in SA, it is
simply accelerated. I’ve been tapping into the Austin
lit scene a little at a time. I even served for a short time on the board of
directors for the annual Austin International Poetry Festival, attended open
mics and readings, and will now be hosting a poetry open mic venue in downtown Austin ,
TX called The Austin Salon Poetic. I
encourage traveling poets to visit!
Michael: I had to mull on these questions for a while because I was born in
James: San Antonio
always meant a lot to me because it was a my long-distance second home. Growing
up in New York , San
Antonio felt like another planet: the food, the
downtown Riverwalk, the tourist attractions, the massive sprawl of suburbs and
strip malls that suddenly dump out into the desert-like hill country. As an
adult I could tap into the blue-collar sensibilities, especially knowing that
most of the rest of Texas looked
down at San Antonio as being a
dirty, “lame” city. San Antonio is an underdog, especially compared to the
artistic opportunities available in Austin, and the feelings of rejection,
dust, and struggle found its way (I think) into my poetry about the area,
especially my bar poems. There are lots of great dive bars in San
Antonio .
2. What would you say is a fair assessment of the literary scene in your city, and how does it compare with the other? Do they complement each other, or are they wholly different animals?
Michael:
James: I always heard about the variety of events up in Austin
when I lived in SA, but I rarely got up there to see readings. I went for the
music and musuems (I saw Kerouac’s scroll in Austin …amazing).
I tried to dedicate myself to what SA had to offer, which wasn’t a lot, but for
what it had it was interesting. The open mics and slams were grittier than in
other places I’ve been, and by that I mean there was edgier,
fighting-up-from-under poetry. There’s a lot of pride in the region, the
painters, poets, musicians, they all love the city and want to see it flourish,
even though it has been in the shadow of Austin for decades and is really only
sliding deeper into that shadow. But there are dedicated small presses,
writers, small events here and there…like any city, SA is what you make of it,
and there are a lot of people trying there best down there.
3. What makes being a writer living in this area of the country such a unique experience, and what is your favorite/most inspirational part of your city (neighborhood, person, bar, bookshop, school, club, street corner, whatever, etc.)?
Michael:
James: Even though SA is one of the top ten most populous
cities in the country, it feels remote, like you’re in your own pocket of the
country removed from everyone else. There’s a very individualistic vibe down
there, a one-of-a-kind atmosphere of us-against-the-world. While the Riverwalk
is pretty, especially around Christmas, there are lots of areas of the city
that are run down but retain the small border-town architecture you can find even
downtown because the city grew so fast in the last 100 years, spreading and
growing, and these dingy conrers and dusty side-streets have lots of stories.
Places like Bar America, the string of joints along N Saint Mary’s, the outdoor
bar La Tuna, and the biker bar Hills & Dales, all have been around forever
and a day and have a great mix of young people and old timers. Every place will
tell you ten stories a night, and I’m thankful for having experienced as many
of them as I could.
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