In our December issue, Rebecca Nison’s “Eastward.” We talked about public performance, New York sensory experiences, and constructed environments, among other things.

1. “Eastward” is very precisely located: Manhattan, Union Square, proceeding east street by street. Yet despite such a specific setting, the story reads almost like a fable, of a woman breaking free from her bounds and returning to nature. Is this a modern myth? What does it tell us about the way we lead our lives?

I’m a fan of Chekhov’s belief that art should ask questions, not answer them.  Following that thinking, I never intend to tell anything about the way we live our lives.  I only hope that this story raises questions about the containers we put ourselves in (clothing, house, city, memories, past) and what we might uncover if we step out of them, even if just for a day, an hour, a moment.  If this can be called a modern myth, perhaps it’s one about stripping away the myths we tell ourselves.

2. This is also a story about public vulnerability, a body exposed to the eyes and attentions of innumerable strangers. You describe your narrator’s body, its past and its present, but overall, what comes across is a tremendous sense of awareness. Can you talk a little about the physicality of this piece?

The body is our first and final home.  Also our most important one.  As she separates from her former shelters and restrictions, Celia recognizes that her body remains what she’s left with – and her physical awareness awakens through this realization.  By living in her body on display, she undoes her shame and relearns herself.

While writing this, I thought a lot about Galway Kinnell’s poem “Saint Francis and the Sow,” and particularly the lines, “sometimes it is necessary / to reteach a thing its loveliness.”  Celia – like all of us – must act as both teacher and student in reteaching her own loveliness.  Recognizing her body as the most vital shelter frees her from other constraints, allowing her to live herself more fully.  Continue reading →