Meet Tina Demirdjian

We recently connected with Tina Demirdjian and have shared our conversation below.

Tina, we’ve been so fortunate to work with so many incredible folks and one common thread we have seen is that those who have built amazing lives for themselves are also often the folks who are most generous. Where do you think your generosity comes from?

There were moments I truly understood I was being led. Poetry entered my life unexpectedly–after my first poetry workshop with Manazar Gamboa at Homeland Neighborhood Center in Long Beach in 1990, a magical place thanks to the vision of Dixie Swift. I wanted to donate my time to support the community program that she and Manazar ran. That evening he asked: “Why don’t you stay and write poetry tonight,” “I don’t write poetry,” I said. He laughed; and so I went.

It was so long ago that I can’t remember, now, doing anything BUT writing poetry for the last 33 years. Life is swift and slow and meaningful all at the same time. I was open to seeking something new; something I would never expect. That night we sat upstairs in a loft with one light bulb and two rectangular tables. Manazar would always chuckle and grin at so much of what we said and wrote. He knew that it was on the page where magic and skill met.

He learned to write poetry in prison; so when he got out he gave back to the community by teaching poetry in juvenile halls throughout the state. At times, he’d tell us stories from prison; moments that collapsed in his memory while we were there. Our memories collapsed there, too. Poetry brought everything forward.

It was either my first or second poem I wrote that charmed the group. I remember the feeling. “Wow, I just did something I’ve never done before.” The poem was about my mother and her gentle touch when I was a child; a breeze or a gentle leaf that caressed me as if I was sitting under a tree. It became the portal through which I walked a poet; as if poetry was waiting for me under that tree or in the memory of my mother’s touch.

It gave me hope for something I didn’t know about yet; my first step into a new world. I am always grateful to Manazar for inviting me. I understand that role, now. It is both a gift and a purpose; a service in the world to open doors for others; to honor our experiences, and to understand our inside world.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

Often someone will ask me (like a dear artist friend recently did!) “Can’t everyone write a poem?” “Yes, poetry is both an art form and a tool,” I replied. This is a fact: everyone can write a poem—it is what has led me during most of the 33 years I have taught in schools, museums, libraries and businesses–however, not everyone is a poet. It is a personal choice and it is what continues to lead me, to honor myself and where I come from. On the one hand, being a poet is a choice one makes. It is how I choose to be in the world, to frame my days, and moments in time; and the work that I choose to do vigilantly. On the other hand, poetry is also a tool for all of us to use–to participate in–to value–and to serve us in developing ourselves, and to express our thoughts, feelings, experiences and responses to the world.

In the beginning, my creative practice centered around my grandmother and ancestors like in the poem “Oranges from the Bosphorus.” It followed moments that reflected the life/death cycle like in “Two Dying Bees” or in “COMPACT.” I found my grounding in what came before me and what was in front of me that I became witness to. It was a journey of past and present. After more than 30 years of writing and teaching poetry, my creative practice has expanded to include research in physics, neuroscience and how it relates to subjects in my poems, how memory is created and dispelled, how time and space linger in reality, how one learns to write poetry and what lights up in our brain when we do. My observations into nature, memory and the lack of memory, my commitment as a culture bearer in the Armenian diaspora, and my experience in the aging process and the impending future shape my need to create experimental work to revisit and reconfigure the imagined, and visualize new work. My interest and enthusiasm about these subjects deepen my practice.

In the working manuscript: “Ardemis and the Book of Questions” I am led by the everyday life of my past as in “BEESWAX” or the everyday occurrences that form into the questions we might all ask like in the poem “Infinity of a Small Space.” Poetry folds me into spaces that are known and unknown, but provides a pathway where I can lead myself out through writing and rewriting. It is a testament to a life lived through poetry as a daily practice, and a life still uncertain, yet, curious for the road ahead.

Similarly, teaching poetry allows me to guide others to have meaning, to come together as a community, and to learn how to claim one’s stories and experiences through poetry. Within the writing space, it is an avenue for team-building as well as developing resilience and confidence through awareness and the development of a new skill. It harnesses our voices individually and collectively. It is a place to rest and rise up. When I first began to teach in 1991, I thought my life was only about teaching poetry in the classroom; getting students excited about what they were capable of; believing that they were capable of writing, and then encouraging them to read their work outloud. Working primarily with English Language Learners—I expected this of myself as an arts educator; but as years passed, I learned more about my practice in the classroom and I began to connect with a global view of the work being done in the community-at-large.

Approaches to writing and teaching continue to expand my view as an artist and as an arts educator; the two of which are imbued in my daily living; it is the slow and gradual change that I discovered wasn’t only happening to me in my creative practice– both as a poet and as an arts educator–but on a collective level. Research in neuroaesthetics, and the foundational development of neuroaesthetics and the field of neuro arts validated my hunches. In addressing the value of the arts with health, wellness, the process of creativity, and creating greater impact in the community, the NeuroArts Blueprint began to spread strategically into businesses, government, (even) insurance companies, and non-profits worldwide.

But this is where I’ve currently landed; so let me backtrack a bit. The desire for greater impact first evolved when I taught how to edit a poem, and led the youngest of students through that process. It wasn’t about something being right or wrong; bad or good. The question had changed: “Is this a powerful line or poem, or can it be more powerful? Every student and workshop participant knows this and it became central in my teaching. Recitation also took center stage. It allowed the shyest students to stand up to read, and over time it transformed their confidence. Creating line breaks. Breathing. Allowing themselves to slow down, and giving time to their peers to listen to the words and visualize the poems.

It is the practice of visualization that poetry lives within us and on the page. Editing and reciting poetry are its adhesives. They serve to connect us more to ourselves and give us agency. It is having agency that serves as an opportunity to give students or workshop participants a means to connect even more deeply. It is what empowers us; we watch the words on the page blossom, and a part of ourselves blossoms, too. It is what defines creativity, and it is what eventually led me to my interest in neuroscience and poetry; a new understanding, that is both part of my own process of writing and editing as well as what I choose to research and apply in the classroom or workshop setting.

Editing and recitation are what leads me to more fearless writing as a poet; what helps me step outside of myself and listen to the time and space that lives within me. There is power in understanding how we function in the world; how leadership takes shape from our experiences, and how writing it down–finding what loosens our voices and glues our fragmented world–produces leaders.

Out of this connection and interest in the ever expanding view and power of poetry is how programs such as ARTful Conversations, A Cadre of Poets: Leadership & Literacy, Uncertainty Explored: An Experimental Series of Art and Poetry, and Women on the Verse developed and continued to develop over time.

This is what excites me; knowing that I can be a bridge, and witnessing how I am led as an artist and arts educator to be part of the larger conversation around the arts and healing, wellness, leadership, and the application of neuroscience research. This is how poetry is created for greater impact. It is much more than what I had expected 30 years ago, and it is also my mission: to empower all communities to read, write, edit, and recite poetry and to use it as a means to lead in their lives.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

When I first walked through those doors at Homeland and experienced poetry, I understood I needed to follow it. It was an intuitive response. It reminded me of the day I decided to major in political science at Stockton University in NJ. I was so excited to make that decision. The intuitive decision came with connection–to myself and something greater than myself that I wanted to learn–the way it has with poetry. It was the same way I decided I needed to move to Washington, DC when I graduated college. I went door to door to look for work (it was 1985 and no one had email and certainly there were no cell phones!). I got a job at the National Academy of Sciences. Intuition played a role, and a belief in myself: in Armenian we say, “eenchoo che” or why not? Try it. Follow it. Experiment. How does it feel?

I wasn’t the best student. Even when I was selected as drum major in high school, I knew I wasn’t necessarily the best choice. I played the flute, and didn’t play the much-needed brass instrument for the marching band that the other two contenders played. Yes, but I owned my role. I honored my bandmates and our collective vision to be a small and excellent band. We practiced and memorized the songs during the summer. I partnered with the football coach, and I secured the football field before school began so we could practice the formations for the half-time show. Building community became fun. Now, I also understand that it is the essential ingredient, and allows us to understand our needs and adapt to situations that create greater impact.

Finally, I think it’s the willingness to learn and to have fun. I remember in the early days of writing poetry, I had performed at Highways. I was excited because I thought I did a really good job–actually I thought I was being very “cool” until Manazar said “you know, you’re supposed to have fun up there!” Ugh! What? I always remember this when I’m performing my work. I also understand that reciting my work is a way to be of service to the poem which is what I tell students and workshop participants. It’s no longer about you when you’re up there; it’s about the poem. Some pieces have also taken years to shape. I am an artist, and while some people might say “life is short,” I also know that life is long. It has offered me time to create and practice my art. Poetry is always present. Capturing the words necessary means I am willing to give it time, and to learn my craft, to connect with other poets and listen to their work–to learn how to “critique” work (theirs and mine) rather than be a critic. It is to listen. To learn. To be.

Allow yourself to be excited. Believe in yourself and your vision, and get so excited about it that you continue over time no matter what happens. I still need to get extra work to pay the bills, and sometimes don’t know how I will make ends meet, however, I know that I need to continue–to follow intuitive leads, to develop clarity over my lessons and my practice as a poet. As a freelance artist I continue to learn more about business and communications, improve my writing, be of service, and connect with the community. Most importantly, when I have an idea I write it down. So create proposals even if you don’t have funding yet, bring people together around your ideas, call or email people you’re afraid to call. You are not alone. People are around to help you. Find them.

All the wisdom you’ve shared today is sincerely appreciated. Before we go, can you tell us about the main challenge you are currently facing?

There are two challenges for me right now. First, it is deciding whether some of my ideas and project proposals are ahead of their time, or if they’re not fully formed, or if they miss the mark altogether? How do I know? How much time do I invest in developing and spreading the idea and secure funds? Am I really talking to the right people? Which project do I spend more time on? Finally, am I willing to wait and work on the projects not yet funded in ways that help shape them, bring clarity to them, and even some possible funding? My answer is that I’m doing the latter, and I am creating opportunities to have discussions about these ideas, and developing more extensive proposals with timelines and budgets.

Second, it is making sure I have cash flow that extends outside the school year which is when I earn consistently, and because I need to account for budget changes that I have no control over. I’m working toward two options. This first option requires me to expand my profile with corporate and non-profit businesses using poetry as a means for team-building and wellness. This work is already part of my services and my passion, but it entails more connections and opportunities for workshops and newer testimonials with a larger network of associates.

The other option is decluttering and re-creating thriving spaces. It is how my motto “Courage Happens Here: Clarity of Mind, Vision and Space” developed over time, and “The Decluttering Poet” emerged. What is unique about being of service is when I witness how a client feels when they are “unburdened.” It becomes the gift of what they thought was impossible and experience the aesthetic pleasure of a cleared out space. It is a similar feeling I experience when a student or workshop participant writes a poem for the first time. Either way, it is a hit of dopamine. It is also what has led to a clearer vision of how I can create greater impact for others.

Finally, my art practice and my teaching practice are symbiotic in nature; they inform each other. Taking time to write is as important as taking time to develop lessons and earn a living wage. Sometimes, though, it’s just about writing, editing and reciting poetry; using this experience to tap into the intuitive and creative mind that is a gateway to leading, to visualization, and to the empowerment needed to forge ahead. It is what happens on the inside. It is the slow maturing. The time and tenor of being open to my practice and process of learning, developing, and the co-mingling of ideas, words, metaphors, possibilities and purpose; a gift that gets larger when I choose to share it.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.poetryconsults.com
• Instagram: poetinastudio
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/tina-demirdjian-a102488/

Image Credits

Tina Demirdjian teaching at ARTful Conversations at Brand Library & Art Center. Photo credit: Valerie Taylor.