Integrity Sucks (Where and Why Poets Have to Sell Out)
This is a poem. Okay, it’s not, it’s oil, tempera, and pastel on cardboard. It’s Edward Munch’s 1893 painting The Scream. But. This is a metaphor. Let’s pretend for a moment this is a poem and my friend Edward Munch is a slam poet. Edward is about to go on stage and he wants to his poem just like this.
But, Edward wants to win the slam and he knows this poem, looking like this, doesn’t get 10’s, or even 9's. So he does this (which is done by Joel Grannas):
Slam poetry is the process to asking, “How much will I sell out my art?” And to compromise, to parody yourself, is good and funny and at times, appropriate. Because slam happens on a grading scale, when you become a slam poet, you move from doing the work for the satisfaction to doing the work so you can become valedictorian.
Think of it this way. Slam began with poetry. Poetry is art. This is a controversial statement for two reasons (1. What is poetry? 2. What is art?) I’ll define art, at least, with a little help from my old friend Wikipedia: “Art is the product or process of deliberately arranging items (often with symbolic significance) in a way that influences and affects one or more of the senses, emotions, and intellect.”
BUT, because slam deliberately arranges people to judge how a poem has influenced and affected the senses, emotions, and intellect, it is antithetical to artistic integrity (artistic integrity being the art the artist wanted to reveal to the audience). Sacrificing artistic integrity is not an inherently bad thing (perhaps I say this self-justifyingly).
The other thing that happens in slam is a very socialist, liberal, and terrifying thing: the artist revokes full ownership of the art. A poem moves from a purely literary or oral experience to an interactive, collaborative experience. Each time you perform a poem, it looks a little different; it becomes a different artwork each time. This is not bad. This is, for lack of a better term, artistic evangelism.
On the other hand, it’s still a sacrifice of integrity. Control of what you produce is no longer in your hands alone. And you’re still participating in a patronage system—you’re competing for love, recognition, and often money. This is where integrity is really compromised. Most of us have 3-6 poems that consistently slam well and our temptation is to only use those same poems in competition. For example, some poets avoid their gay poems or their sad poems or their woman poems in order to garner more points. Or they play their sad poems and their pity poems (what we call "pimping pain for points.") And that’s dumb (so much so that a deeper explanation seems excessive).
As a slammer, I really suck at balancing artistic integrity and the desire of the judges. I try to use three (ambiguous and loose) rules to guide my ethic. Bottom line, there’s always artistic compromise. It comes with any art; we’re influenced by our audience’s response. So it’s always a balance act. But these rules often help me.
1. Do the poem that lets you do more poems. This is where I throw integrity to the dogs. I want to do as many poems as I can. I like getting on stage. I like being liked. Screw my heart, I want to win their hearts.
2. Do the good poem. This is ambiguous, almost unhelpfully so. Often, when (and if) I get to the final round of a slam, I do the poem that I’ve been sitting on all night. Or I do the poem I want to leave the audience with. Conversely, I’ll start the night with “the good poem”—the poem I’ve been itching to do all week, even if it’s not usually a high-scoring poem. My theory is that if that’s where I am, that’s the only place I can take the audience convincingly. Unless it’s tournament or if I’m competing for a slam team. Then, I do the poem that will get me onto the team, so that I can do more poems (see #1).
3. If they ask for it, give it to them. This applies especially to sexist, homophobic, racist, self-absorbed, cheap shot, poems. If I’m in a slam with all men, I do “the woman poem” without hesitation. If I’m in a slam with all self-absorbed sob stories, I do the “get over yourself” poem. I try to change the perspective. Because slam is, above all, slam is a dialogue. If someone starts the conversation about sexism, or revenge, or God… then yes, I will respond. Thank you very much for asking, but these are my three minutes. And I’ll say what my integrity dictates (mostly).