Book Report: A conversation with Oregon's new poet laureate

Elizabeth Woody the first Native American to hold the title

Elizabeth Woody is leaving Portland for good. In March, Gov. Kate Brown named Woody the eighth poet laureate of Oregon. Woody joins the ranks of poets and writers including William Stafford, poet laureate from 1970 to 1989. She is the first Native American Indian poet to be named Oregon poet laureate.

I hunted for her poetry at Powell’s City of Books on West Burnside, alone at first. I asked for help but, despite the staff’s valiant efforts, we couldn’t locate the sole used copy of her book, “Seven Hearts and Seven Hands,” that had entered their inventory the day before. A copy of the provocatively titled “The Hatred of Poetry” hollered from an endcap — the idea there is that people don’t just ignore poetry, they actually hate it.

Not everyone, apparently. Three of the four copies of Woody’s book at the Multnomah County Library are checked out to people who probably at least like poetry. Another copy is reserved for in-library use only.

Woody is well known in some circles. She completed her master’s degree at Portland State University in 2012, and served as director of the Indigenous Leadership Program at the nonprofit environmental organization Ecotrust for 12 years. Next she moved to the National Science Foundation’s Center for Coastal Margin Observation and Prediction at Oregon Health & Science University. She has worked as the K-12 program coordinator and is a past program officer at the Meyer Memorial Trust.

Now Woody, an enrolled member of the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs, just left her longtime Portland apartment and will settle into a home in Warm Springs. She plans to prioritize reading requests from Oregon’s rural areas, explaining that places like Portland, Eugene and Ashland are well-served as it is.

The Tribune asked her about many things:

Tribune: Oregon poet laureate sounds grand, but what does it actually mean?

Woody: It’s been around for a long time. At a certain point of time it was a volunteer role, and at another it was difficult for Bill Stafford to be every place he was asked to go. In 2000, Gov. Ted Kulongoski’s wife, Mary, revived it and I was on the committee to bring it back as a poet and member of literary and arts organizations.

We knew it needed a stipend and fee to cover travel. The poet is required to complete from six to 22 readings a year. So we go, and we share what our lives are like and cultivate and nurture people who need to have art in their lives.

Tribune: When did you first arrive in Oregon?

Woody: Well, my family has been in Oregon and Washington for over 12,000 years. I was born in Arizona and came to Oregon when I was about five months old. I had a piggy bank and I counted out my pennies to save for college. My grandparents believed in going to college, and I learned to read. My grandfather’s brother went to college. He paid for it with his own savings and that of my grandparents.

Tribune: Painting, basket weaving and writing — what do you enjoy most?

Woody: I’m a mixed-media artist. I’ve done a lot of different things. I like making things, constructing things. People push the edges with conceptual things, I respect it all. I’ve seen a lot of exceptional things outside the mainstream canon we study in school. I find myself loving and caring for the little pieces found in secondhand stores, and the people who are very unique and creative behind them.

Tribune: Maker is a catch-all term these days, isn’t it?

Woody: Well, I use it and my grandmother used that title, too. When I learned to tan hides and how to bead, she said, “Oh, you’re a maker. You’ll always survive.” There are people who embody the true network, and commerce is ancient. People are going back to that economy. If you have certain poundage of food and water, you are self-sufficient, and can carry yourself forward.

Tribune: You’ve played many interesting roles. What’s next?

Woody: I’ve left Portland, I’ve left it now. The rent is too much, and every block has a brewery, a wine bar and a pot dispensary. I’m part of a different class of people. There’s a writer named Jane Jacobs who talks about how there’s an important economic loop that goes from the country to the city, a place that’s egalitarian and has environmental regard. But there’s not much you can do if your pipes are full of lead, and there’s nowhere to live. People in my neighborhood have two cars per apartment, and there’s no parking. There’s really a false sense of privilege. There are people from other places who have spent a lot of time building up their self-esteem, and they see themselves as creative but there’s a lack of diversity in business, education and in the people themselves. I’m a brown person and I’m trying to negotiate my life as a person who is being misunderstood, mistreated or ignored, so I have to explain myself and go into this other role. I have to become very patient.

Tribune: It seems our city is being demolished and rebuilt with little regard for the past.

Woody: There have always been boom and bust cycles in the West, and they’re going to happen on greater extremes. Take climate change — the massive forest fires and decaying trees. People think they’ve gotten a good deal but the mountains and rivers are dry and the trains are polluting. There’s a limit. We’re going to hit a wall.

Tribune: Have you always worked to support yourself?

Woody: (Most) of my artist friends have had to make a living — work to get healthcare and really plan on how to take care of themselves. I wanted an income so I could purchase the things I needed. I did many commission pieces and essays. I’ve got a lot of stuff to sort through once I’m situated here. I have a manuscript of poetry with comments from Gloria Bird, a friend I trust. And I have a collection of work from over 20 years.

Tribune: What is life like at Warm Springs these days?

Woody: I grew up here. I went to high school in Madras. Not much has changed, people are still dropping out, not just on the rez, but all around. If we want to have a strong work force we need to start in elementary schools with strong reading and a strong, supporting environment. My family all believed in education. When I came home from school my uncle wanted to know, “What happened today?” He still remembers those funny stories. That’s the kind of interest that needs to be shown.

(Woody’s likeness is painted on the “Women Making History” mural located just off North Interstate Avenue, watching over us. Tell her goodbye the next time you pass it.)