Interview with Singaporean Poet, Marylyn Tan

Tay Jing Hui, Tng Yong Li, Tan Xin You

What do we expect of an author who is unapologetically female?

What do we expect of consuming art in general?

Should a work be easy, should a work be safe?

Marylyn Tan is a linguistics graduate, poet, and artist interested in conditions of alienation and marginalisation. Day by day, Marylyn works as a full-time teacher at a tuition centre. On the writerly front, Marylyn keeps things going with freelance writing, participating in events and performing gigs. Some of these include performances at the Singapore Biennale, the Singapore Writers Festival and SPEAK. Most recently, Marylyn had just wrapped up a mixed-media sculptural and perfomative installation, “Apotropaic Texts”, with Zarina Muhammad as part of N.O.W 2019.

In her debut volume, GAZE BACK, Marylyn writes for the disenfranchised voices of the minority through an unabashed exploration of femininity, queerness and occult. Through this quest of subversion against the social structures that oppress and restrict, GAZE BACK aptly transforms into a deeply personal work of self-discovery and catharsis for the various identities that Marylyn has come to adopt. In a daring exploration of form and content, GAZE BACK is more than just an anthology of poems; it is a grimoire, an instruction book and a call to insurrection to empower the disenfranchised.

We recently had the opportunity to interview Marylyn to find out more about her writing process, relationship with poetry and how GAZE BACK came about.

Hi Marylyn, thank you so much for agreeing to this interview! We really enjoyed reading your book GAZE BACK, and some poems really resonated with us, but first we would like to ask you some questions on your writing process.

Hi all! No worries. Hit me up with whatever you need!

First and foremost, as students who are somewhat new to poetry, we wanted to know, how did you start writing or get into poetry in general?

I actually started with my father - he’d assign me a writing exercise a day during the December holidays and some of those would involve poetry. I also remember being exposed to poetry from a young age - I had a couple of books of poems as a kid, particularly about dogs. Nursery rhymes are in themselves a kind of poetry. Being raised Catholic, my exposure to hymns and psalms also made accessing and writing in that kind of poetic language almost natural.

Since you started writing poetry in what we assume would be a structured kind of way with your father, do you think your relationship with poetry has changed? Is it more of a habit now and something that comes naturally?

No, my poetry writing wasn’t structured at all - my father just wished to keep me busy and out of trouble, haha! It’s not so much a habit as a necessity - I think a lot of (good) poetry is an untranslatable feeling that can only be expressed in verse.

What then is your approach to poetry? Do you start with a specific end product in mind or do you let the writing guide you? Do you have a message you wish to convey or perhaps it’s just cathartic?

As said, yes, I think I usually have an end product in mind, though I’m always mindful that the process of undergoing the project will change me and in turn change the parameters of the project. For example, in one of my recent works, Apotropaic Texts, I worked with both visual and textual pieces/sources to create an installation. The work blossomed from the books I was reading as well as the conversations I’d been having in the course of doing my research for the project. It’s all about cross-pollination.

Some writing is cathartic, but other examples of my writing are often experiments in juxtaposing two vastly different ideas together, especially if I want to expose uncomfortable or necessary truths. It doesn’t so much aim to disseminate a single message as ask the uncomfy, gross questions.

Having read your book, we realised that it incorporates certain cultural knowledge and traditions that might not be commonly known (e.g. bolita ball bearings, lang suir, mercilon, stigmata, prepuce, etc.) We wondered if these were things already familiar to you, or topics you had to do additional research on; and if so, how does this fit into your writing process?

I knew of these things, either because of life experiences - Mercilon isn’t a cultural thing but a form of birth control prescribed to me, for example, or because of my interests. I grew up reading horror and so it’s not a long shot to think that I’d enjoy reading about all forms of the supernatural or occult. Being Catholic, I had a passing knowledge of the stigmata, but the Holy Prepuce was something I only came across after reading a little more about Catholicism and its weird ways. Research definitely is a huge part of my process, as I love an interdisciplinary, promiscuous approach to subjects and forms. Even in my academic life, I often find myself straddling several disciplines and choosing subjects that cross intersectional axes of culture, social dynamics and beliefs.

On many levels, I [Yong Li] really relate to wanting to write for a female audience and people who have had similar experiences. However, an issue I face is that people who do not have such experiences are unable to access the things I write. It makes me wonder to what extent I should try to cater to these other people as well. While there is undoubtedly value in writing poetry that makes others feel alone (just like how reading your book made me feel validated in my experiences), I find myself feeling disappointed when others are not able to grasp certain allusions! How can we then write or represent minority voices in a way that is accessible? Or is that even something I should even be worrying about?

On writing for a female audience, I think it’s really important to fantasise your audience. Who do you wish to be reading your poetry? Is it okay with you that you aren’t pandering to people who won’t ‘get’ your poetry in the way you want them to? What will catering to the lowest common denominator do for your poetry? Be clear about what your poetry is attempting to achieve and you will be less afraid to write yourself into a box of accessible-to-all. I think it’s definitely the reader’s own responsibility to educate and engage deeply with a work. But you can’t control others’ interpretation of your art and you shouldn’t attempt to.

I’m glad my poetry validated your experiences!!

We also noticed that you experiment quite a bit with form in your poetry, for instance, in poems such as Barrier Method, SEXTS from the Universe and Unicode Hex. We were wondering where you got your inspiration from for such unique forms?

I don’t know what inspiration means. I think I decided to write subjects based on uncomfortable or unexpected synchronicities. Having a mentor also helped immensely in opening my eyes to thinking about form and function - there is a Charles Olson reading she suggested to me which asserted that ‘form follows content’. In the case of GAZE BACK, I wanted it to be a journey of breaking down dualities, boundaries between imagined dichotomies and power dynamics, and that resulted in playing with the boundary between established poetic forms and more visual texts, blurring the line between what can be considered visual art, and what can be considered a text.

We understand that you also make art! What is your relationship with poetry and art? Do they influence each other?

Tying in to the previous answer, I think art and poetry are almost the same processes but in different languages. The medium/form also, as previously said, informs the message. Presently, visual/performance art seems like something that connects with a different audience from poetry. I was told that I was ‘rowdy and rude’ during a performance titled TO KNOW A NAME IS TO POSSESS, precisely about giving up control and breaking down control and punishment enacted upon disobedient women, so there are definitely people who have to have the art explained to them. I believe as well that art, like music, because it isn’t usually text-based, is a great way to tap straight into the emotional jugular.

One other thing we are curious about is your critique and revision process! Can we find out more about how these processes were like for you?

I usually get someone I trust to do the critique process, as there really aren’t that many people I trust to see my work and understand what I’m trying to achieve with it. Being given the tools to discern what makes a poem tighter also helped immensely - in my poetry classes, I learnt about breath, musicality, and to be more cognizant of word choice. These helped me be more critical and write ‘like a knife’, cutting straight to the quick. I have a habit of long-windedness (as you can probably tell) so this was one of the more definitive learning points in my poetic career.

On that note on finding people who understand your work, we actually read in a Straits Times interview that your mother mentioned "Eh, not very nice to write like that" when your book was published. We were wondering where your family stands in your relationship with poetry and art; especially since you come from a Catholic family, and most of the themes you explore subvert Catholicism.

Hahaha! Yes, most of the time they either don’t understand it or disapprove of it, so I try not to wave it in their faces. to them, I’m not ‘pursuing the arts’ because I’ve completed a B(A) in Linguistics and my first job out of college was teaching so really, as long as I’m earning a good wage, they’re fine. but my parents also came a long way towards accepting my queerness (not so much my interest in the occult). I was forcibly outed at 17 and we’ve had to have some uncomfortable conversations, so I think they’re either resigned to it or the coolest parents in the world.

With the completion of GAZE BACK, we were wondering what you are thinking of exploring next! In terms of themes, will you be sticking with related themes? Or will you be exploring new ones?

I think some of the broader thematic obsessions will obviously always colour my work, such as feminist body politics, Catholicism, horror, queerness, etc. But I’m very easily bored so I definitely am going to play with subject matter and form - for instance, one of my next works is The OSCAR ROSARY which is a work intended to be performed and discomfit the audience in the process.

One final question! We were discussing the Alfian Sa’at saga (when his poetry was quoted in Parliament) in poetry class this week and we are curious to hear your opinions on that. Or more generally, what does the relationship between poetry and politics mean to you?

Oh! I feel like that was the worst literary analysis I’d ever seen. The two lines taken out of context in Parliament actually (a) had the opposite effect as the poem probably jettisoned to a much wider readership than before and (b) more or less reflected how far back (1998!!!!) Minister Ong had to go to find something worth quoting. Alfian’s poetry (and indeed, body of work) speaks to a place that longs deeply for a just Singapore, fraught with disappointment, and one can only be disappointed with something if one expects and cares for it in the first place. Poetry has always been political. Poetry is one of the best vehicles for engendering and engaging with politics. Both are deeply personal and intimate. Both require deep excavation of the human condition and what one’s values are. If you make a choice to say that your ‘poetry isn’t political’, well, that’s a political choice too.

Thank you so much Marylyn for your time!