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bigger slam prizes - one poet's viewan interview with Samaiya Ewing, continued; page 3 Can a slam with a large prize make a statement about slamming? ... about a community? ... about the poets in a given area? I don't feel that money makes a statement about slamming. Poetry slamming was poetry slamming before excessive amounts of money were ever entered into the equation. I don't think the money changes slam itself, just the ways in which some people, myself included, approach it. More money definitely brings out people who wouldn't normally slam, but I really feel that that's less about slam and more about the finances. I mean, if you slapped a fifteen hundred dollar prize on ring toss contest you'd get a whole slew of people who don't even know what a ring toss is, and normally wouldn't care, come out to compete. Likewise, I don't think it can make a statement about a community or the poets in a given area, money is the great equalizer, you could have a big money slam on the West Side or on the Gold Coast. It doesn't matter. If the price is right, and you do a good job of advertising, people will come from wherever they have to in order to compete. That being the case, it's impossible for big money to make a statement about a community or the people in it. Whenever you introduce money into a situation, unless you purposefully lock out or in a particular group of people as with the Black Pride slam, the population that you're drawing from isn't what it would be on any given night. It's much more diverse because people are importing themselves for the love or need of money. Do you foresee a slippery slope with larger prizes, as competing venues vie to claim the largest prize? Oh, God, I hope so. It'd be great if venues got into a sort of pricing war, fighting for the time and energy of poets... That's my idea of utopia in a nutshell. But no, I really don't think that will happen. Well, actually, I suppose it depends on the type of venue. If it's a rented hall type of venue, then no. But if we're talking about bars or clubs that make money on drinks, food, and merchandise as well as what they take at the door, then maybe. After all, if you're a club owner and you can find some sort of corporate sponsor to put up a few thousand every month, and you could charge at the door, charge again to enter the slam, sell poet merchandise as well as your own, plus food and drink, and the residual effects of introducing a new population to your club every month... People who might like the place and come back for other events... If you've got three or four venues that operate in that particular way, then you might get the sort of competition you're talking about. Other than that, no, I don't see it. Do you feel the money can taint the poetry in such competitions? Competition taints poetry, regardless of whether or not there money is involved. Poetry doesnt need money to taint it, slam has already taken care of that. There has been a lot of talk in slam, of course, about the vitality of the form, particularly since the last couple of Nationals. By changing the competition, the rules in particular, a lot of people hope to revitalize slam. But of course, the rules aren't the only way to affect the poetry heard at slams (or on-mic, for that matter). What do you think would improve the future for performance poetry in general, and slam in particular? Burn it to the ground, bury the ashes, salt the earth! All except one poem. Laminate that (whatever it is) and hide it away. Wait until everyone who’s ever heard even the slightest whisper of performance poetry or slam is dead. When you’re sure they’re all gone, wait a decade more. Then make sure that poem falls into the hands of lonely, pouty, spoiled, outcast type sixteen year old kids, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll save performance poetry. Slam however, is dead, in all the important ways at least. Slam has left it's mark on the poetry world for good or ill. I don't think slam has anything else to say about poetry or the people who write it. If I'm wrong, if it does have more to say, well, then I'm perfectly willing to admit that I lack the imagination to predict what that could possibly be. Thankyou, Samaiya Ewing.
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