>> Hi, and welcome
to Director's Cut.
I'm your host,
Charles Monroe-Kane.
Here at Director's Cut,
we're dedicated to bringing you
the best in independent films
and filmmakers.
Our film today is a documentary
about the life of Wisconsin poet
Lorine Niedecker,
called "Immortal Cupboard."
Now, we're not talking on taking
a nap while the teacher shows a
boring movie bio-pic here.
This documentary is poetry.
Sure, it tells you the story of
a poet, Lorine Niedecker, but it
also lets you experience the
poetry itself.
It's rare and beautiful.
The film's director,
cinematographer and editor,
Cathy Cook, joins us today.
>> Cathy, welcome
to Director's Cut.
>> Thanks, Charles,
it's nice to be here.
>> I loved your film.
>> Thank you.
>> It was great.
I think it's the first film of
poetry I've seen.
I can't think of the last film
I've seen on poetry.
Are there any other films out
there?
>> There are a few.
There's one on Charles Olson
that just came out recently.
>> I'd probably like that one,
too.
>> I've seen some.
There was a series done in the
'80 that PBS sponsored.
>> Good old PBS.
>> Yeah, it was definitely the
'80s, a whole series of famous
poets.
>> I love it.
It was nice.
Where does the title
"Immortal Cupboard" come from?
>> Because Lorine Niedecker
wrote a letter to Cid Coreman,
thanking him for a wonderful
little book that he had sent
her, a very small handmade
Japanese book.
And she said, "You are now in my
collection called my immortal
cupboard."
And it's this shelf
that she had on her wall.
And she kept her favorite books
there of her favorite poets.
>> I think you showed that.
Do you show some of those books?
>> Yes, I recreated the shelf,
and I show somebody unwrapping
this special, little book and
placing it.
It's called "For Instance."
>> An immortal cupboard.
That's nice.
I should do that.
>> Yeah, we all have little
shrines and little collections
of our favorite things.
She had her favorite books.
>> Tell me, in a nutshell, who,
and we're going to find out more
throughout the show, but who is
Lorine Niedecker?
>> Well, she lived on Black Hawk
Island, or she grew up on Black
Hawk Island, in Wisconsin, just
outside of Fort Atkinson,
from 1903 till 1970.
She was well known in some
small circles, I would say,
nationally and internationally,
in small circles.
But not very well known to her
native area.
>> She was multiply published
while she was alive, correct?
>> Yes.
But the thing is, she didn't
want people to know that she was
a poet.
And she didn't want people in
the area to know what she was
doing.
She wanted to keep her anonymity
so she could keep creating.
>> Creating poetry.
>> Yeah.
>> I want to show another clip
from the film.
If you could set it up.
This is her on a walk
with her friend.
>> With Bonnie.
And Bonnie had taken a walk with
her one time.
As Lorine was leading her down
the path, or down the road, she
was pointing out roads and
paths, and houses that she had
lived in, or actually,
her relatives houses, etc.,
and just kind of reminiscing
about her history on
Black Hawk Island.
>> Let's see that clip
from "Immortal Cupboard."
>> She showed me her poem,
Paean to Place.
That gave me an insight
into her right away.
I asked her if that was an
autobiographical poem, and she
said yes it was.
And one day, I went for a walk
with her.
She came by and picked me up.
As we walked down the road, she
showed me where she had been
born, where her grandfather and
grandmother had lived.
Where her mother and father had
lived, further down the island.
And where her father had kept a
woman, next door, actually,
to the home.
That was the kind of
conversation we had as we went
down that road.
The poem had set the tone for
all of that.
When I came back from that walk,
she was exuberant.
She was elated.
And she just looked all around
her.
And she said, "I just feel like
a Goddess here."
I knew what she meant.
She just loved
the island so much.
It meant so much to her.
>> That was a clip from
"Immortal Cupboard."
Tell me, sense of place.
We talked about sense of place a
lot when you're talking about
literature and film.
But for Lorine, a sense of place
is everything in her poems.
Tell me about the place
where she was.
>> Well, the place was
Black Hawk Island, which I'd say
in the '30s and '40s,
and maybe even in the '20s,
I'm not that knowledgeable
in the history of Black Hawk
Island, actually.
But I do know that it was quite
a well developed resort area,
where lots of people from
Chicago, and you know, bigger
cities, would come to hang out
for the summer.
And it was quite a well
established resort town.
I think since then, it has gone
downhill.
>> She didn't live in a fancy
resort, though.
>> Oh, no, no, no.
She lived in a little log cabin
house.
A very small house.
Before that, she lived with her
parents in various houses.
So she lived very modestly.
>> Did she write always?
Like ever since she was a
teenager, younger, out with a
notebook?
Was that her?
>> Well, when I was going
through the archives, and when I
talked to all the wonderful
people at Fort Atkinson, they
said, yes, you should go through
and find her yearbook.
And sure enough, there were two
poems that were published in her
yearbook, her 1922 yearbook from
Fort Atkinson.
So yes, she was always writing.
>> Now, you spent years making
this film.
>> Yes, over six years.
>> So that sense of place, her
place, became your place in some
way, getting involved in it.
What's it like there?
What's it like being quiet out
there on the island, looking at
water?
>> Well, some days it's not so
quiet.
Some days, it's very quiet.
One day I was out there and
there was jet skis all over the
place, which kind of spoiled the
mood.
But after the sun set and you
sit out there for a while,
it does become quiet.
It's very mystical.
I don't know how else
to describe it.
The light is beautiful.
There is a sense of spirituality
out there.
It's quite wonderful.
I've been there at all different
times of the day, early morning,
late at night, so dark we
couldn't find our way out.
All different conditions,
weather conditions,
different times of year,
different seasons.
>> Did you run into moments
where maybe you saw--
For the viewers here, her
poems are mostly about nature.
Where you would see a duck
take off out of the water,
or a leaf fall,
and you'd be like, boom,
that reminds me of this poem.
Was it that close to the sense
of place, or was it more just
general?
>> Well, usually, my process is
that I would read her poems, and
then I would get flooded with
imagery.
And then I would go and look for
things that I felt corresponded
with my interpretation,
my visual interpretations,
and connected to her poetry.
>> Wow, what a cool process.
>> Yeah, so it wasn't
necessarily saying I'm going to
go find a duck, right?
I was lucky if I found a duck.
Or I'd just find things that
instantly connected.
I was always working.
It was always part of the
process, almost like a treasure
hunt.
I'd find things.
>> I want to show another clip,
because what I like about this
clip, and we have some more like
this, is that we have to see her
poems.
I mean, we need to see them,
because you don't have people
reading them.
And you'd use the setting of the
island to show her poems.
And here's a clip from one of
her more famous poems.
Maybe you could set up this poem
for us.
>> Yeah, this is the one called
"My Life By Water," which is
one of her most famous poems,
and one most people
are familiar with.
And I decided to not create too
much of a big visual for it.
I tried to keep it as simple as
possible, because it's such a
strong poem.
So I just have the poetry
scrolling up the side, and a
little bit of movement in the
background.
>> Oh, it's beautiful.
I love how you do it.
Let's see this clip of water.
( rain showers with thunder )
>> That was a clip
from the documentary
"Immortal Cupboard."
It seems inappropriate
that I'm talking.
It feels weird.
I see that clip and I watch the
film.
I should be quiet for a minute.
You were saying during that
clip, what's the sound that we
hear during that?
>> Well, there's a line in the
poetry that says that she can
hear muskrats gnawing on her
door.
And I had a guinea pig at the
time.
So I put a microphone in my
guinea pig's cage, and I gave
him some cardboard.
And I said, now make it sound
like you're gnawing on a door!
Because I've heard mice gnaw at
things when I stay in the
northern woods of Wisconsin.
And it's quite a distinct sound.
So, I can only imagine that
during a flood, to hear muskrats
chewing at your door, must be
rather haunting, but also very
close to nature, and that
connection.
>> It takes a poet to get that,
right?
It takes a poet to remember that
during the flood, there were
muskrats gnawing at the door,
and then that's a line in a
poem.
Talk about an evocative image.
I'm curious.
This film is very slow.
It's very observant, if that's
the right word for it.
That's the word I use to
describe the film.
And it's very poetic in a sense.
It's not what we're used to.
>> No, it's not.
>> And you spent six years
making this film.
Are you worried about the
reception of a film like this?
Are you expecting someone to sit
down for 90 minutes to really,
I mean, my wife and I watched
this and we really liked it,
but we had to like,
at one point after it started,
we like stopped the film for a
second and said, okay, I've got
to get into a different head
space here.
This isn't what I thought it was
going to be.
Are you worried about the
reception?
>> Oh, absolutely.
And it's not quite 90 minutes.
But it is almost feature length.
It's 70 or 74 minutes.
But considering the fact that
all of my films previous were
highly edited, fast-paced,
quick, quick, quick, you know,
get your attention, this was a
very difficult disciplined film
for me.
And one of the reasons was that
I had to take it at her speed.
And I really felt that I had to
operate and carry through and
give the audience sort of the
speed that I expected her to
maybe deliver through her
poetry, or when you're reading
her poetry.
It's very difficult for an
audience.
>> Yeah, you don't whip through
her poems.
>> No, you don't whip through
her poems.
And I found it very difficult to
try, how am I going to present
poetry on a screen.
>> Sure, that must have been an
amazing question for you.
>> And not bore the heck out of
people, right?
And also not lose them.
So, yes, it doesn't have as
many avenues, maybe,
as it could,
because of the slowness of it,
or the speed of it.
But I wanted it to be genuine
to Lorine.
I wanted it to be genuine to me.
>> You didn't do the whole
talking heads thing, which you
could've easily done, you know,
the whole Ken Burns, which is
great form for what it is, you
know, going back to this famous
person.
You really let it breathe.
You let this really breathe.
I mean, after that water poem we
saw, there was a couple minutes
of just us observing the water
before the scene changes.
>> Yes.
>> Which I appreciated, as
someone trying to understand
that poem.
But again, that must have been
hard to do.
I want to ask you a question,
and it seems just like a
horrible question.
Why?
You're from Maryland, right?
>> Well, I live in Maryland now.
I am from Wisconsin.
I will always be from Wisconsin!
>> That happens to Wisconsin
people, I think!
Why did you want to make this?
You dedicated a lot of stuff.
And then, this isn't going to
make you millions of dollars,
either.
You really were into it.
You spent a lot of time out
there.
You took this very seriously.
You were saying that in the
opening clip of the show, there
were different labels on beer,
and it was a garbage thing, you
made those labels.
>> Mm-hmm, yeah.
>> That's an act of love.
Why did you want to make a film
about Lorine?
>> Well, I had been making
very short poetry films for
about 15 years, very short.
And using Emily Dickinson's
work, using friends of mine,
Jen Benka, who's also from
Wisconsin, using her poetry.
I could go on and on and list.
I used many, many poets.
And I used visual collaboration
with very specific poems.
Never did I go past one poem.
I also write my own, what I call
found poems.
So I've been working in this
genre for quite a while.
This is the first time, what
happened was a friend of mine,
Jen Benka, handed me this book,
in fact, "The Granite Pail."
She handed me
"The Granite Pail."
>> Poems of Lorine, of course.
>> Poems of Lorine Niedecker.
And she said, "Okay, now you're
done with that last film,
you need this," and she
handed it to me.
And I'm like, okay.
>> That's how it happens.
>> I opened it up
and I didn't put it down.
I connected so much with her,
just idealism of Wisconsin,
and her interpretation
of Wisconsin, and her spiritual
connection to Wisconsin,
which is so similar to mine.
And I just said, I think
I have to do this.
I mean, it was almost
that immediate.
>> That's amazing.
>> Yeah, it was that immediate.
>> That's fantastic.
I want to show another clip.
This is an interesting one.
If you can set this up.
This is from,
later, she married.
She remarried later on,
when she was much older.
>> In her 60s,
when she turned 60, yes.
>> This is a great clip
about books that she made
for her step-kids, right?
>> Yes, step-daughters.
She married a man by the name
of Al Millen.
And they started traveling
together.
>> He seemed like a great guy.
>> And what was interesting
was that they were very
different, and they came from
very different worlds.
However, they both appreciated
the land of Black Hawk Island.
He worked for the Ladish Company
in Milwaukee.
You know, he was a hard working
blue collar type of person.
They just had a lot of
connection, including the sort
of yearn for discovery.
She had never traveled much.
And so, all of a sudden, they
started traveling together,
because he could drive and she
couldn't.
And they went on all these
trips.
>> Give us a timeframe for this.
What year was this?
>> 1960s, in there.
>> In the 1960s, okay.
>> Yeah, in '64, '65, '66.
And she would write down
all their dialogue,
document all their dialogue.
And of course, write down
tons of notes.
>> Right, of course.
>> And correspondence.
And she would put all this
together into these beautiful
little books.
And I handled one of them.
It was just like,
touching it was so precious.
>> Let's see a clip
of one of these books.
These are Lorine Niedecker's
books she made for her
step-daughters.
>> In 1968, they went to
Minnesota, up to Swan River,
which is near Hibbing
and the iron ore range there,
and out to North Dakota.
>> Door County and up around
Lake Superior and into
Minnesota.
And during this time, she would
make notes about their
conversations.
And then at Christmastime,
she would type Al and Lorine
dialogue.
And wrap it up in wrapping paper
and give it to Al's daughters.
It's just charming and intimate.
>> She had these little handmade
books she gave us at
Christmastime.
And those were very special,
because they were,
some of them were conversations,
others were her poems,
some referred to the trips
they took together.
>> Wow, she seems amazing.
She seems like a poet
with a capital "P".
This is a bigger question,
but you know, poetry today
is a lot about speed
and cleverness, and you know,
hip hop poetry, which I love.
It's interesting.
>> And performance.
>> And performance, absolutely.
She's from the old school poet.
She's from the alone
poet in the woods person.
What is the role of a poet
like that in society today?
What should we get from her?
>> Well, part of the reason
I was so interested in working
with her poetry is that she
brought, not just her place to
the surface, but she brought how
she was interacting with other
international affairs, or
cultural issues, or economic
issues that she came up against
every single day.
And it's all in her poetry.
Like when she was poor,
she talked about being poor.
>> Right.
>> When her houses were going
through foreclosure, she talked
about foreclosure.
She wrote poems about
foreclosure.
When her parents died, she wrote
poetry about her parents dying.
Oh, and when her pumps didn't
work, she wrote several pump
poetry, excuse me, pump poems.
It's hard to say pump poems!
But she was always reflecting
what she was going through or
what she was exposed to.
And I just love that
interpretation of her.
>> You know, I was waiting.
I was watching your film,
and I really was into it.
So now I'm into it.
Totally into it.
I'm doing the poems.
She meets Al.
She's in her '60s.
And I'm waiting for the rug,
right, I'm waiting for the rug
to get pulled out.
I'm waiting for the alcoholic,
commit suicide, he beats her,
she kills herself, that way the
poet does things for some
reason.
>> The artistic drama.
>> Yeah, the artistic drama,
which is tedious in some ways,
but you always see it.
I'm waiting for it.
And I don't get it.
Instead, she totally thrives.
And she's awesome.
Were you like surprised by her
life, when you really got into
it?
Even at 60, she's still writing
these amazing books?
>> And even towards the end, her
strongest poetry was written in
the last few years of her life.
>> What a great thing to say
for yourself.
>> Yeah, her longer poems
were written the last few years
of her life.
But that was the other thing,
I couldn't put in longer poems,
because the film format
is somewhat restricted.
I had to use very short poems.
So, you know, I'm just touching
the very, very top of the
surface of her work through this
film.
Whereas if you really want to
know something, go get her
books.
And there's many out there.
>> Speaking of which, I'm going
to do, actually.
I've committed to buying a
couple books of hers.
>> That's great.
>> You brought in, this is the
first book that you got from
your friend.
>> Yes.
>> And I'm assuming you have a
favorite poem in it.
I would love for you to read it
for us.
>> Okay.
Well, this one, I didn't end up
putting in the film, but it's
still one of my favorite poems.
It's primarily because I also
believe.
This is my process also.
I also believe this poem.
And the poem says:
For best work
You ought to put forth
Some effort
To stand
In northwoods
Among birch
>> How do you know her now?
How intimate are you with her?
How connected are you?
Is this a sister now?
Is this a teacher?
>> She, to me, she acted through
the process of the film,
definitely as a mentor.
I learned from her.
I learned what she had to put
aside, or move things around in
her life to make room for
poetry.
I often make those decisions in
my day to day life.
Am I going to go to two parties,
or am I going to stay home and
work on my film?
Am I going to go to such and
such house because they invited
me, or am I going to stay home
and work on my film?
Am I going to go on vacation, or
am I going to work on my film?
Right?
And she often made some very,
very difficult decisions on what
path her life took, so that she
had room to make her poetry.
And I found, whether I like it
or not, I've made those similar
decisions.
>> We talked about it earlier.
In that island, she didn't want
anyone to know who she was, even
though she didn't mind being
published.
She knew that if she got famous
there, it was all over.
She begged someone at one point,
a local newspaper editor,
please, please do not publish me
here.
I don't want anyone to know.
That's a sacrifice.
>> Yes, it's a sacrifice.
It is.
Because she also had some very
trusting friends on Black Hawk
Island.
And I think the key thing here
is that she really did only
befriend people that she
absolutely trusted.
And it was a very selective
process, as far as I can tell,
the people that she became
friends with.
>> And now, you've befriended
her to us, which I really do
appreciate.
I did not know who she was
before.
I really love poetry, and I was
really surprised I hadn't heard
of her.
I was really excited.
>> Well, I had never heard of
her either before six or seven
years ago.
>> Well, now everyone else knows
who she is.
Before we go, we have another
clip.
And this one doesn't need much
set up, except for this is her
voice.
This is her reading her poems.
>> The only recording ever of
her voice.
>> Wow, I'm excited to hear it
again.
Let's hear that clip from the
film.
>> Another Thomas Jefferson...
>> Then of a sudden,
all their lights go out.
Well, that's a good thing
to end on.
Thank you very much.
I really appreciate
you introducing us to Lorine.
>> Thank you.
>> It was a beautiful film.
And thank all of you
for joining us today
and watching Director's Cut.
For more information
on "Immortal Cupboard,"
please go to:
www.wpt.org/directorscut
While you're there,
send us an email, because
we love hearing from you.
I'm your host,
Charles Monroe-Kane.
For everyone here
at Director's Cut, thank you
very much for joining us today.
Check the gate.
>> She really grasped the idea
of plain, curt talk.
Even her long poems
are so dense.
I mean, there's not
an extra word any place
in any of that poetry.