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Many different terms have been used to describe Scott Wicken. He's been
called a poet/musician/writer/raconteur/slash, slash... whatever media
monikor is bestowed upon him. Wicken is absolutely positive about one thing:
he does not want to suck.
Local arts circles know him mainly as a poet. Yes, he's usually the
headliner because he's really good. In spite of himself, Wicken is the
darling of poetry and spoken word circles everywhere. He has been an avid
supporter of many groups since the phrase 'big beat speak' was ever uttered.
His CD Something Wicken This Way Comes has had considerable airplay
on campus and other alternative radio frequencies. Wicken's caustic and
often comedic word offerings on the urban everyday trivialities like ordering
french fries in a restaurant, or a hairdresser-cum-vampyre, or the sheer
rites of shameless puberty leave an edgy, lasting impression on the brain.
It is only fitting that on the brink of the millenium, Wicken accompany
his uncanny word power with an ardent visual thrust. Wicken recently received
a grant from Bravofact to do just that. But suprisingly, this short poetic
film isn't about wannabe goths, or dusty flies gathered in the bottom of
a filthy old lampshade, or going on a 'tear'. It reveals another layer
of this writer. The short poetic film called Where Do the Souls of Children
Go? is about the place that Wicken grew up, his first home, in the countryside,
not far from here and the beautiful yet haunting memories it holds, even
today.
Echo talked to Wicken at 'aproprose' bistro The Rude Native about his
latest and most challenging creative process to date.
Echo: How Did you get this grant?
Wicken: The only other time I applied for a grant was out west. It was a Factor (music) grant and I didn't get it. Also a lot of books of poetry that I haven't liked have been completely financed by grants. I had this thing against grants. I thought it was an easy road to get things done. It wasn't a reflection of what the people want to hear, but more a reflection of who could fill out their little rectangular pieces of paper properly. I thought there were a lot of people filling forms getting a lot of grants for poetry, instead of poets getting grants to do poetry... until I got a grant and that changed my mind.
Echo: And why do you think you got one then?
Wicken: The reason I got a grant was because of Mario Madau, director of photography, at Giant Films in Toronto. He phoned me and said he was putting in a couple of proposals, one for a big band, and he was wondering whether I had thought of having a grant done. I basically went in, and had a couple of meetings. Over the weekend we put the idea together on the computer, the text of the poem with a bunch of clip art that showed the approximate kind of tones, pictures and images that we were thinking of linking together for the piece.
Echo: Where did you shoot this?
Wicken: The whole poem is about where I grew up in the country, just
past St. Agatha, in Wilmot Township during the first five years of my life,
We actually went to the house that I grew up in. There was a graveyard
in the backyard and some of those shots are from that graveyard. The farm
with the cows is my neighbor's next door, who I hadn't seen in 20 years.
The poem is about the experiences living there so I actually went back
to the real locations in many cases and shot the stuff. I shot the film
in the same places. I was shooting in all these locations from decades
ago and I met many people that I hadn't seen in years. I went back to my
school that I went grades one through five and walked across the playground.
In making this film a whole new rush of memories came back. I could probably
write another 10 of these poems.
Echo: Why this poem and why now?
Wicken: People have asked me why make a film of this poem rather than
the more urban work. This piece has a different tone and stands on its
own, with a very specific tone to it. I think it is one of the best ones
I have ever written by my own standards however I judge that. The images
are the clearest and the cleanest and the rhythms all make sense.
I also chose this one because I knew that it would have a better chance
of getting grant money, and when I do a recording, this piece will be on
it. And it might get a better chance of getting airplay on radiostations
like the CBC, which is an important station for people like me, because
it is the only station that would play my work. There is no way the big
commercial stations would play me, or any of my friends. Everything is
too formulaic in general. There are some interesting things happening but
not enough on a consistant basis.
Echo: How long ago did you write this poem?
Wicken: I remember where I wrote it. I wrote in The Duke of Wellington right by the swinging door to the kitchen. That's where I used to hang out and write. I lived at the corner of King and Erb, and I went to the Duke everyday and wrote. I spent hours writing there, drinking coffee and I knew all the waitresses, and they all gave me free coffee. I sat there and I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.
Echo: What was the best thing about this whole process.
Wicken: I was working with people who are very skilled in what they do. In many respects I acted in just a watching capacity. I watched what was going on. I would ask questions I would learn. On other occasions, I would help choose the shots, I pointed out shots and I helped with the editing, every step of the way. I really feel like I was part of the whole process. I never felt I was fighting to assert my own particular vision. People added to vision.
The most important thing to me is the same when I record, I perform, or am making a film, and that is it doesn't make me wince to listen back to it. And it doesn't suck. It is very important to me that I don't suck. It is the worst thing in the world to know that you suck.
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