'Dirty Laundry' mixes poetry and laundromats

The Dirty Laundry poetry series — sponsored by the Jackman Humanities Institute’s (JHI) Program for the Arts — is a unique performance experience that mixes poetry readings with laundromats. The creation of U of T PhD student Zak Jones, the series has been running for a few years. This year, Jones will be hosting events at monthly intervals. Dirty Laundry is also part of JHI’s Talking Books.  Information about each event is shared on JHI’s Twitter and Facebook pages and in their monthly newsletter.

Sonja Johnston of JHI asked Jones to tell us a little about himself and Dirty Laundry.

What's your background?

I’m an American who grew up in rural North Carolina. I’m an Army veteran and was a proud “mature student” attending undergrad here at U of T on the Post-9/11 GI Bill. In my PhD, I don’t feel like much — if any — of that matters. It feels more like my “background” has been abstracted to a description of my studies. If that’s the case, I’m a student of American Literature, specifically 20th century novels and particularly a re-examination of what we can learn from American “epics.” I just finished my master’s thesis in Creative Writing here at U of T, as well.

What attracted you to poetry?

When I was about 12 or 13 my mom went on a crusade to try to get me into poetry like she was rescuing me from some precipice I was about to walk off – the end of the world for her is a world without verse. She spent a good amount of her very little money on Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Joni Mitchell CDs and we would read the lyrics together as the songs played. She took me to see Rita Dove recite some of her work at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill shortly thereafter. I’ll never forget that. It worked and I’ve been writing and reading poetry ever since.

Who are your influences what inspires you?

In terms of poetry readings and how one might go, I draw my biggest inspiration from my fellow grad student and friend Fawn Parker. She has a great eye not for what’s “good” in a subjective sense but what type of work and what type of literary readers give a damn and runs her poetry readings and her magazine, Bad Nudes, accordingly. She’s also a great and humble writer.

In terms of my own creative influences, I tend to really “feel” and understand Karen Solie’s poetry as incredibly important to me. I’m inspired by Cody Caetano. “Inspired by” is the only way I can describe how I feel about him. 

Why laundromats?

Well, at first, I decided that they worked for “flash-mob” or “pop up” type poetry readings, and the events are still widely about that feeling of spontaneity. Also, most laundromats are accessible (or at least profoundly inaccessible in an egalitarian way, with no bathrooms for anyone) and they create the polar opposite atmosphere that bars do. These are spaces of work and introspection and a kind of ablution and domesticity. They’re sinless, mostly, and a strange place to gather people. My dream is to host readings that are “relaxed performances” and there is something so un-stuffy about laundromats that evokes a sense of relaxation and unpredictability because these readings are so unusual. I like that.

What kind of response have you gotten?

With the help of JHI’s Program for the Arts I’ve been able to pay the performers for their time. It used to be the case that I’d “pass the hat” to try to raise some money for the poets, but now when I pass the hat it’s for a local charity. That has gotten a great response from the now-well paid readers and the audience who feel like in addition to an aesthetic experience, they’re given the chance to do a little philanthropy. Those two groups are happy. The laundromat owners, however, and for whatever reason, are always quite suspicious of the whole event until the end. When it is revealed to him that their laundromat hasn’t burned down – they usually come around to the idea.

What can someone expect if they've never attended a Dirty Laundry event?

Excellent poetry, excellent poetry readings (the two are not mutually exclusive, usually). They can also expect a really welcoming crowd and something like a party after. They should not expect some kind of gala or polished performance but instead expect to be surprised.

What do you hope people take away from attending your events?

I hope that attendees realize that there is a lot more to their communities than they imagine. There is an incredible amount of creative work happening in this city, and people are willing to come out and see it, regardless of where it’s presented. I hope that they brag to their boring friends about “this wild thing” they did on the weekend. I hope that they remember the poets and buy their books and come out to more traditional readings.