"The speaker in Shelley Puhak's Harbinger is no closer to knowing
herself than I am, than we are, which is why we trust her. Each
similarly titled poem holds a triptych mirror up to the artist and, in
so doing, up to us all, so we may better see ourselves as we are. In
ever-changing form." --Nicole Sealey
A stunning meditation on artistic creation and historical memory from
the winner of the National Poetry Series, chosen by Nicole Sealey
From "Portrait of the artist, gaslit" to "Portrait of the artist's
ancestors" to "Portrait of the artist reading a newspaper," the poems in
Harbinger reflect the many facets of the artistic self as well as the
myriad influences and experiences that contribute to that identity.
"Portrait of the artist as a young man" has long been the default
position, but these poems carve out a different vantage point. Seen
through the lens of motherhood, of working as a waitress, of watching
election results come in, or of simply sitting in a waiting room, making
art--and making an artist--is a process wherein historical events
collide with lived experience, both deeply personal but also unfailingly
political. When we make art, for what (and to whom) are we accountable?
And what does art-making demand of us, especially as apocalypse looms?
With its surprising insights, Harbinger, the latest book from
acclaimed poet Shelley Puhak, shows us the reality of the constantly
evolving and unstable self, a portrait of the artist as fragmentary,
impressionable, and always in flux.
