Atsushi Ikeda is a writer and musician whose work I admire for its openness, playfulness, and experimentation. I met him through ergot., a literary website I also value for its frequent experimentation. I wanted to do an interview about experimenting, and in the process, we had an experimental interview (for me!) of talking over video chat instead of just typing (which is what I normally do). This led to a wide-ranging discussion that I tried to capture here in writing. I didn’t even come close to succeeding, but such is the nature of trying something new!
I also asked Atsushi to write a collaborative poem with me where we took turns writing each line, and I’ll include that poem at the end. It was a lot of fun, it helped me think in new directions, and I recommend this exercise to others!
Okay, now for the interview:
Where do you usually begin with a piece?
Usually an irresolute feeling, or an image that begs elaboration/exasperation. Words I'm fond of usually inform poetry more so than the little bit of prose I do, unless they need to have a more situated voice. Though as with music, where anything starts or might start feels a bit more loose, as long as something catches. A phrase or a groove.
What do you hope the reader gets from your work?
Rhythm and atmosphere.
Can you tell me a little about life as a young artist?
I started playing guitar and writing when I was 14 or 15, around when I first moved to Canada. I didn’t know that art was a separate activity from life itself when I was a kid. When you’re younger or when you’re less informed, you don’t feel as much distinction between art and life, or different artistic mediums. You learn to categorize things as you grow up. And then, over time, I had to unlearn it. It feels much more integrated to me now.
How did you reintegrate art into your life?
There’s a quote by Victor Shklovsy, about artfulness…the gist is that artfulness is less about the object you’re directing your attention to, but about how you’re directing your attention. I would say it’s also a spiritual matter in a fundamental sense.
I sometimes joke about wanting to achieve enlightenment, but that’s what I mean! I want to be at peace with my surroundings rather than judging, and when I can do that, I feel spiritual and artistic joy.
Yes, before I get into writing or cooking or any specific form, I have to focus on my attention, which is my relationship to the world. Building a strong, clear bridge that allows for a maximum ebb and flow of information and impressions.
What’s the biggest obstacle for you now with this practice?
Life gets in the way of life. Practical matters and daily things. If I have to take out the garbage, for example, and I spend an extra five minutes sitting at the table and dreading taking it out, probably because I’m weighed down that moment by some inner garbage too, then that’s distracting.
So ideally we can accept what’s around us rather than dreading it.
And that gives presence and clarity, and the ability to go deep.
I’m a spiritual person, and what you’re saying about art really resonates with me in terms of a spiritual practice as well.
Me too, and it’s hard to articulate that relationship. But there is the matter of judging art based on its merits, too, which I think still matters.
Who does it matter to?
Of course, I love ecstatic expressions. But sometimes speaking in tongues really is just speaking in tongues. It’s not like everyone who goes to a certain place spiritually, mentally, or emotionally is going to have the same prophetic or profound results. Sometimes it’s really - maybe you were just really high and thought you touched something, but it was just the inside of your own skull.
(I can’t remember what question I asked to provoke this, but Atsushi said this as well, and I wanted to write it down.)
Clarice Lispector and Leonora Carrington are two inspirations for me.
Also-
I like it when artists talk about certain questions/hunches that arise in their work. What recently stuck to me: Wendy Eisenberg in this Bill Orcutt guitar quartet interview, talking about the nature of improvised music, how it actually feels/what domain it creates.
"I improvise as a way to metabolize the world":
https://reverb.com/news/bill-orcutt-guitar-quartet-interview
Improvisation is more fundamentally a way to move through the world, to become as open as my environment to actually dance and not just get snared or tangled. So, anytime a musician or artist or person talks consciously/seriously (which does not negate playfulness) about the substance and structure of their life, there's some learning there. I don't care about the little rituals people do or practice routines per se, as much as how they add up to become sound. It’s about the integration of practice and philosophy.
When you decided to integrate art into life, what obstacles did you encounter?
Sometimes you lose the sense of art, and it feels like it’s gone from real life. Sometimes I truly think I’ve lost it forever, but then somehow it swoops right back in. If you’re lucky enough and also persistent and faithful, it’s always there, but it is something you have to tend to. How do we continuously become more discerning, and refine our perception?
Between writing and music, which one is most challenging for you?
In both, it does depend who I'm doing it with/around/for. I like writing that's musical, or where it feels like the sound is the sense or story, and I think music when it's really happening is poetic in nature. Between the two, the situational challenge is that at any given moment there may be too much self-consciousness and not enough practice for what I want to express. So, maybe tense around other new musicians in a room, or just not reading/listening consistently enough to have a bedrock. But also I love the immediate response of playing music/being musical with people.
(At some point, I asked how he knew when he was connecting with his audience while playing music, and he said it had to do with their movement, and I insisted that I’m often really enjoying music but not moving AT ALL. Somehow this led me to say I should probably make a New Year’s resolution to learn to dance, but the thought is very unpleasant to me.)
Could you share a couple of links to projects you’ve done, and include a thought you currently have about them?
Here’s a few scattered outings from the last two years. All my musical contributions thus far are as lead guitarist/sideman. Most of my recorded work has been with dear friend Holly McLachlan. I chose the live version of “Honestly” because we were all just ripping that song, way chaotic and slippery, and I always love these wild warbling side duets that Em (our inimitable violinist) and I get into when we do certain tunes live. But please do check our studio work! And if you do, really dig Holly’s words. Maybe my circle’s too tight or I don’t have a circle at all but I don’t know anyone around who writes like her, with such variegated, yes, honesty.
I’m putting out a four track EP in late January with my friend Shershah a.k.a Grand Trunk, a project where we had equal share in the writing, which is new for me musically. We’re called Jasmati, and the tape will be called, I think, “Sakhi Dare?”
That one I’m especially proud of, more than anything because it just really really sounds like me and Shershah–our tastes, our friendship, our growth together and individually. The music in there feels firmly like the step I want to take, broadly and brightly, towards the direction of dance music. And my boy Shersh is also just unstoppable sooooo~
Poetry
“No takers” - Apocalypse Confidential (Feb 2023)
3 poems - Bruiser Mag (May 2023)
“Border Soul” - talking about strawberries (Oct 2024)
Prose
“The Yellow Pill Game” - ergot. (Jan 2023)
“needle stalked” - new_sinews (April 2023)
“The Purple Line” - Propagule (July 2023)
Music
“Honestly” (live version) w/ Holly McLachlan, off her EP “Wooden Foot”
“Arshad Nadeem” w/ Grand Trunk and GQ97, off the EP “Dissonance on the Sir Syed”
“Sakhi Dare?” w/ Jasmati, out late Jan 2024!
Thanks to Atsushi!! And finally, our poem:
Poem by Ivy and Atsushi:
One more piebald automaton roosted summer square
fresh from the poured canyon
eyelashes, hundredth silence near riverbed
grief kept catching me like money
and the wind was ripping me off.
Rampage through the town with all my boxes
I ducked swords, charmed filaments
What does your name mean?
“Don’t leave your blessings out to dry”
the sun has an eyelid
trust the naught beneath enough to close
I want to live everywhere
a feeble squawk in a loose trap
gristle in the hands of a square man.
****
"Life gets in the way of life. Practical matters and daily things. If I have to take out the garbage, for example, and I spend an extra five minutes sitting at the table and dreading taking it out, probably because I’m weighed down that moment by some inner garbage too, then that’s distracting."