What makes art feel so worthwhile and meaningful? It can be deceptively difficult to pinpoint a single answer, but Ivy Hoffman’s ’27 pure enthusiasm for poetry and prose certainly seems to provide quite a few.
When we first met, we discussed the evolution of her creativity. She said that as far back as she can remember, she’s always been interested in poetry. When she was a little kid, her dad would read poems to her and her sister before bed. Even back then, she remembers thinking, “man, I wish I wrote this.”
Ivy continued to intensively read, write, and develop her literary vocabulary throughout her arts-focused middle and high schools. In middle school, she was able to “major” in communication arts, a program which required daily creative writing. She credits this focus quite a bit with helping develop her creative voice.
After we talked a bit about her experience, I asked Ivy an admittedly impossible question: why is she so drawn to poetry? I’ve asked (and been asked) this question of “why art” often, whether in casual conversations or formal interviews, and almost always the respondent is caught off guard. For many people, it seems as though art has an inherent meaning: that it is inexplicable and universal … And to some degree, maybe it is.
But Ivy argues there’s more to art than that. She doesn’t see poetry as one tool of many for expression and interpretation. Instead, it is a colored glass through which we can better understand life. In other words, it is a medium rather than a philosophy.
Ivy explained, “When I was 14 or 15, I wrote a poem that got published in the Rattle Magazine’s Young Poets Anthology. They asked everyone ‘why do you write poetry?’ … And I remember really struggling with it. I remember saying that it just is a part of my identity … The way I see the world and how I live is through the lens of poetry. It’s always been my way of working through my thoughts and feelings about the world. As I’ve written more, it’s become my way of thinking about the world outside of myself.”
Given her intense, lifelong relationship with writing and creativity, I was curious to hear how she would describe her present style of poetry. Had she discovered a specific rhythm she liked, or a poet she modeled her work after?
“I like to write every day,” she said, “so I’m often a little less concerned about strict form … But recently, I’ve been into retellings, so thinking about the voices in stories that are not as well told. I wrote ‘Grendel’s Mother,’ which is about the mother of the monster in ‘Beowulf,’ and then ‘Ophelia’ [based on the character from ‘Hamlet’].”
Ivy delved into 10 different versions of ‘Hamlet’ to learn as much about Ophelia as possible. While she shared her research process, her enthusiasm filled the room. Each successive word followed just a bit quicker, and it became apparent that her analysis of older works is as energetic and creative as entirely new and fresh rethinkings.
Given Ivy’s limitless bounds for (re)imagination, it was difficult not to lose myself in her infectious excitement. But, as she discussed ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Beowulf’, I couldn’t help but wonder who has influenced her diverse style.
Ivy responded, “One of my favorite poets is Carlos Drummond de Andrade … He has this poem called ‘Seven Sided Poem’ where he addresses himself in a way that I have found so beautiful and honest, and he also is not afraid to be silly or break conventions, which I think is important — just being able to play, as a poet.”
Ivy loves creatives who break conventions, but simultaneously enjoys the classics. She’s even memorized one of Shakespeare’s Sonnets, and she appreciates the forms that operate within their complicated structure. With her lucid and insightful perspective, Ivy reminds us that there’s so much form to explore in the unbelievably broad field of English literature.
From Amiri Baraka to Sharon Olds, Ivy’s grasp of diverse texts reminds us to sit down and take a second to read. Perhaps we, too, can discover the power of poetry just as Ivy did in her childhood.
