Meet Maggs Vibo

We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Maggs Vibo. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Maggs below.

Maggs, thank you so much for taking the time to share your lessons learned with us and we’re sure your wisdom will help many. So, one question that comes up often and that we’re hoping you can shed some light on is keeping creativity alive over long stretches – how do you keep your creativity alive?
My creativity comes from my love of language. Everything starts from wordplay and builds from poetry. I create a poetic turn of phrase which sits inside my head until I am able to record it. A recording usually involves writing and/or typing the piece out and then a reading of the poem (either in public, via podcast, or as some type of livestream event). Other times, I develop an idea into a type of script or screenplay. Every element of the recording is developed through this initial creative spark which develops its own cadence and rhythm. The wordplay usually involves at least three parts: • a spoken word or vocalizing of an oral tale (a recording either in person or livestreaming)
• a visual element of the story (some image I hope to post online or publish)
• a final exhibition space (a gallery or museum opportunity)
The more ways the story thrives, the more I feel my creative energy lived a full life cycle. It’s as if I was able to give birth, raise an artwork into a physical form, and then set the art free to be interpreted in perpetuity. If a poem isn’t known by anyone other than me, I feel the art didn’t live to its full potential. Creativity is nourished through the work, so I feed that part of my imagination through constant learning. The only way to ignite my creative energy is through sustenance and for that I have to study and be a good student. I am a lifelong learner.

My love of language started in my formative years. My first short stories were innocent. I remember writing about popcorn at a movie theater, a vacation to the Black Hills and a book about the puffins in Maine. My teachers always gave high marks for my creative stories. I was attracted to folklore and art, but rarely focused on personal topics or things that impacted me. After my grandpa passed away, however, I wrote a short story about grief which won an award at a state writing competition. Although this was not the first time I turned to writing as a type of therapeutic tool for processing pain, it was the first time I allowed others to read my work. My mother shared the story with our family members. My relatives asked if I would reread this story on specific dates as a type of in memoriam. The story included details about my Grandpa’s abuse of prescription pain medications and alcohol. He was prescribed pain medication after a leg amputation, but his usage eventually turned into a battle he lost to a horrific opioid addiction. I was told that I was an “old soul” and used mature writing themes not characteristic of someone my age. I was able to communicate with adults more effectively when crafting stories from the real moments of my childhood. I learned to write from my personal experiences. If the story was authentic, it always found an audience.

My creative outlets became exercises in self-expression and communication well before the loss of our family patriarch. After a trauma I experienced when a home intruder assaulted me, a psychiatrist explained the importance of words to effectively work through the physical and emotional toll inflicted. I learned about anatomy and medical jargon through my physical examinations. I learned about narrative through the testimony provided in court. I learned about writing themes from the cross-examination of lawyers who defended the unspeakable acts of violence against me. In truth, this was the cruelest way to learn about the importance of language. It would take loving kindness and nurturing to mend the damage. My mother provided a paintbrush and many cans of paint. It was as if each stroke of new color I painted over my bedroom furniture provided a means to create a safer space. Painting empowered me with courage when many of the words I knew turned ugly. This was truly when I learned to love visual poetry, but in the early days I didn’t have a name for it. I just felt that words and images belonged together. I would find self-love through making art. I don’t know that anyone ever fully heals from extreme cruelty, but I do believe that having a place to put rage and grief is very helpful.

My journals were filled with dark words and darker imagery which I didn’t share with anyone. These words and images helped me process the experiences and attempt to make sense of the senseless. It was absurd to me that anyone would hurt the defenseless. Art gave opportunities to embrace absurdity when everything else grew silent. My parents never spoke to me about the sexual assault. In those days, doctors suggested that my young age would make any painful events disappear. My memories, however, did not fade. Art was my solace. My furniture was painted colorful and bright, but my mind was filled with dread, guilt, sadness, and fear. I learned to process this pain alone through poetry, painting, writing, and singing. I was a successful artist and singer throughout school, and always in the school choir. Many of my friends never knew the reason for my love of singing. The more I identified with the message in the lyrics, the more I wanted to sing out. I did not understand the reasons I loved to sing, but knew it was described as “soulful.” My heart held many secrets, but singing helped to release lots of anger I was carrying. It was about controlling the very air through singing techniques.

It was not until my Grandpa’s passing that I realized why art was, in all its various mediums and styles, so important. I finally correlated why art was a powerful tool and how making art provided a space to express whatever range of emotion I was experiencing. I began to understand that all of us (as humans) understand some sort of trauma. I think everyone has an innate awareness that art is the means to share experiences that are oftentimes too sad or scary to express in other ways. Stories help us work through conflict. By creating stories, I learned to share terrifying moments in an honest manner. Just as a fairytale is a way to explain that the Big Bad Wolf exists, the contents (no matter how horrible) are kept between a front and back cover (the wolf cannot get beyond the barriers). For me, creativity is a way to harness power over my experiences through writing, painting, creating, singing, dancing, and breathing—inhaling art and exhaling creative responses. I breathe life into the heart of storytelling. When I control the narrative, I beat the monsters—it’s not about painting over the story, it’s about showing how the protagonist is a fighter (I am a badass warrior artist).

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?
I am a Uniting Us artist and my work has featured with this nonprofit in many key locations, such as the Military Women’s Memorial in Arlington National Cemetery, the Library of Congress, Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, and The British Embassy in Washington DC to name a few. I have also published several pieces in military journals over the years, the latest being a piece called “CO$T OF WAR” which is inside a military writers’ anthology “Things We Carry Still: Poems & Micro-Stories About Military Gear” (Middle West Press, 2023). This collection features the poetry and prose of more than 50 military writers inside its nearly 200 pages. It is really fun to know that pieces I’ve written can be purchased at major book retailers and are available on bookshelves inside of libraries. I want other veterans to have this sense of community. The camaraderie of the military doesn’t disappear just because we no longer wear the uniform—we will always be brothers and sisters in arms. The difference is that the pen is mightier than the sword. It’s time to use our voices to share our perspectives. If you’re ready, I know places to submit your pieces. You can find out more by visiting unitingus.org.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?
The most important thing for an artist to remember is AIR: • Acceptance,
• Imposter syndrome, and
• Rejection

Acceptance
When my work is accepted, it is magical. It happens that sometimes the first go of a poem or story practically writes itself. All the stars align, and the alien voice speaks in a highly communicative manner, and I get the tempo, style, rhythm and dance moves just right… and the judges like it! A judge is generally an editor or the person who reads and decides whether or not to publish my piece. When my art hits the perfect beat, it gets published or when my art is accepted in an exhibition, and it fits (just so) these are moments of acceptance. These diamond moments are rare. I feel really content and peaceful in these instances because my art is finding life beyond my imagination. In some ways, it feels like my art will survive me. I gave birth to it and raised it, but the art lives a larger existence where it is no longer just my creation. It breathes inside of other vessels. The work is accepted. This phase is called acceptance. Being a writer, however, is not just about being accepted into the writing community. There are many parts to being a writer that are also important and teach you things about your craft.

Impostor syndrome
When my work is in a state of limbo, it’s generally in an importer syndrome phase. This is a fairly common response and defense mechanism. In the literary world (especially) writers send a lot of material to editors and publishers. I send out a lot of material to submission calls. Not all of that work is accepted for publications. Even the best writers have work which isn’t published or picked up for a project. It happens that there are moments when nothing feels good enough. It is as if the work is just plain awful. I feel that at any moment, the world is going to find out that I am a terrible storyteller. It’s like I will wake up to find a headline: MAGGS VIBO IS AN IMPOSTER. Or I will create something and instantly think that the piece is absolute garbage and I have no business creating anything. Believe it or not, this is a fairly common occurrence for all artists. All of us feel this way at some point. It’s natural. The trick is to allow the feeling of doubt to creep into your head and share the work anyway! This is the imposter phase, but you are not an imposter. Your voice and your story matter. Which leads to the final stage of being a writer…

Rejections
When my work is rejected, I like to think of this phase as a steppingstone. My art might not be the right fit for a publication, exhibition, or project, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the piece is rubbish. It might just mean my work needs more time to find its audience (the timing is off). If you are a writer, an artist, or have some creative calling, it’s important to breathe—in through the nose and out through the mouth. Inhale and exhale as if practicing a Lamaze method. All of the phases are just stages in the production of art. As Shakespeare wrote, “All the world’s a stage.” Just breathe in art and exhale creativity.

Okay, so before we go we always love to ask if you are looking for folks to partner or collaborate with?
In 2024, I will be busy working on projects for the Department of Veterans Affairs as a fellow for the Office of Health Equity. The plan is to expand the veteran online gallery space to focus on works by Asian American, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander (AANHPI) artists. The artists featured will be military service members, their family members, caregivers, or veterans. If AANHPI artists have artwork or pieces of art that relate to their military experiences, I want to share their stories. As a veteran, I know storytelling has helped me through many types of injuries (both seen and unseen). Art is helpful to warfighters and people in our military communities. It is my ardent hope to see other veterans thrive like I have through using art. It is my hope to see lots of veterans take the first steps towards showing their work and identifying themselves as creators, writers, or artists. This is a full circle moment because my first published pieces were military-centric. In fact, I collaborate often in the military writing community. This is the year I hope to see a move from artist collaborator to curator. To learn more, visit https://www.va.gov/HEALTHEQUITY/Veterans_Health_Equity_Art_Gallery.asp or maggsvibo.com

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