An interview with David Barrick

David Barrick’s poetry appears in The Fiddlehead, The Malahat Review, Event, Prairie Fire, The Antigonish Review, The Dalhousie Review, and other literary magazines. He teaches and writes in London, Ontario, where he is Managing Director of the Poetry London reading series. His first chapbook is Incubation Chamber (Anstruther Press, 2019).

How did you begin writing, and what keeps you going?

I started taking writing more seriously in my late teens and early twenties. I had always been interested in storytelling and art, but my main focus throughout high school was math and science with the goal of eventually studying paleontology. I remained very fixated on dinosaurs as a teenager. While OAC Calculus ended any desire for a scientific career, I realized that my true interest in dinosaurs related to their fantastical, imaginative possibilities, and I could explore those inclinations in stories and poems instead. I’m still fascinated by paleoart—the cover image that I chose for my chapbook, Incubation Chamber, is Philip Henry Delamotte’s etching of Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins’s partially-built Crystal Palace dinosaur statues—and I’ll never grow tired of the sensational illustrations in Gregory S. Paul’s Predatory Dinosaurs of the World (1988).  

My writing practice has a fair amount of ebb and flow, but I keep a regular journal to stay focused and explore new ideas. Reading a wide range of books, going to local arts events, and watching movies all provide creative fuel. Listening to music is especially important for me. Often, I try to capture the feeling of specific songs in my work; for example, I wrote the poem “Love Song” (recently published by post ghost press) while listening to “Clowns” by Goldfrapp on repeat. I think many writers do this sort of thing. As of late, my playlists have had a lot of horror movie soundtracks (John Carpenter, John Harrison, Goblin), ECM jazz albums from the 1970s, and of course, a good dose of metal.

Have you noticed a difference in the ways in which you approach the individual poem since you published your first chapbook?

Since Incubation Chamber was published, I’ve continued writing recurrent dream poems because they just keep coming (and they’re fun). The poems in my chapbook tended to be very compact, often a single concentrated stanza, so I’ve tried experimenting with some forms that breathe a little more freely—my poem about moths (“Open,” published here on Train’s website) is an example of that. I’ve been trying to find different ways to create tension and motion in my work. So far, that has seemed to result in poems that are either weirder or more tranquil than those in the chapbook.

What poets have influenced the ways in which you write?

My earliest poetic influence was probably Gwendolyn MacEwen, along with other famous Canadian poets such as Michael Ondaatje and bpNichol. Ondaatje’s Rat Jelly is a deeply strange collection, and that made a lasting impression on me. Stylistically, my writing doesn’t resemble Nichol’s, but I’ve always loved his ability to bring warmth and wit even to his most experimental language poems. The more of his work you read, the more you see just how expansive his creative vision was. In recent years, I’ve been inspired by Stuart Ross’s blend of surrealism and family memories in A Sparrow Came Down Resplendent and Pockets, as well as Eve Joseph’s magnificent prose poems in Quarrels—I like when poetry has an element of narrative and character in it. I also marvel at the lean, razor-toothed enigmas that are Jim Johnstone’s poems.

How important has mentorship been to your work? Is there anyone who specifically assisted your development as a writer?

Many people have played crucial roles in my ongoing development as a writer, so I’ll just mention a few. My parents provided essential early creative encouragement, and I think of my brother Dan and my wife Theresa as ideal first readers. My former undergraduate thesis supervisor, Joel Faflak, who teaches at Western University, is one of those professors who invariably gets his students excited about art, culture, and ideas; the fact that he took a very generous view of my creative writing both amazed and motivated me. Kathryn Mockler has given me lots of excellent insight into the writing life over the years. Most recently, I’ve appreciated the encouragement of Tom Cull, who is one the best literary community builders I know. My chapbook editor Blair Trewartha and the Anstruther Press team have been wonderful guides into the world of small press publishing.

What are you currently working on?

I’m finishing a full-length manuscript, tentatively titled Nightlight, which has grown from my chapbook and its themes of anxiety, imagination, and dreams.

Can you name a poet you think should be receiving more attention?

I can’t name just one—there are so many incredible poets writing in Canada right now, and they all deserve more attention (even if they’re already well known). Currently, I’m re-reading Roxanna Bennett’s Unmeaningable and Sue Goyette’s Ocean, a pair of very different but equally remarkable poetic sequences. I can’t wait to get my hands on new books by Canisia Lubrin, Michael Prior, Annick MacAskill, Shannon Bramer, David Ly, Conyer Clayton, and Amy LeBlanc, to name a few. If we’re talking about very recent work, I’ve enjoyed Anton Pooles’s eerie, cinematic image poems. If we’re talking about older work, Nelson Ball’s sublime minimalist poems can never receive enough attention—he is one of the best kept secrets in Canadian poetry, and sorely missed.