This past fall I opened a workshop by asking the class to make a list of eight things they love. “You don’t have to write sentences; a simple list of nouns is fine,” I said, trying to ignore the skeptical looks directed at me from the twelve men in forest green uniforms, the rain pounding on the roof outside the prison’s library.
After about a minute, one of the students put his hand up and said, “What if you don’t got eight?”
I was caught off guard. My thought was, How can it be that you don’t have eight things you love? I felt like I could make a list of 80, at least—but then again, I inhabit a different world than those students, and I wonder, were I locked up, might I start to lose touch with the things that bring me infinite joy?
What I said was, “Go beyond just things you own or touch—like, do you love thunderstorms? Do you love the movie Airplane? Do you love laughter?” The student nodded, and kept writing. Later, when it came time to share our lists, he opted to keep his loves to himself, but I could see the page was full. He’d left eight in the dust.
I wanted to write a reflection on the things I’ve loved and learned since moving here in 2021 to work for the Adirondack Center for Writing, because beginning next week I’ll be moving on from ACW to work for a literary center in Rochester, NY. As I think back on everything I’ve learned and loved, I really think I could make a list of eighty, but I’m going to aim for eight. One of the many things I learned—whether due to the undeniable beauty of this place or to the necessity of preserving the work ACW does—was how to take photographs. What follows are some of my favorite moments and lessons distilled in snapshots I took while working as the Communications Manager and then Program Manager in my three and half years at ACW.
1. I learned that “photo ops” happen unexpectedly, and usually so quickly that you miss them. However, sometimes you just get lucky. This is one of the first photos I took that I was really proud of, because it captured the energy of the moment and told a story. This was Halloween 2021, when we passed out candy as well as books to anyone dressed like a “book or character from a book.” I also just love the clever genius of that little Shel Silverstein poem.
2. It might be difficult to read the glee on the faces of everyone in this photo through their masks (or through the grainy, low-light quality of the iphone snapshot), but I love that the storyteller is canted forward with laughter, and the audience is leaning in toward her too. You can see the teller and the listeners literally coming closer together. This is from an event we did called Embarrassing where people read poems, story, song lyrics, and artifacts from their childhood and teenage years. Laughter doesn’t capture it. The room was full of guffaws.
3. In the spring of 2022 when we were gearing up for our first Howl of the season (my first one ever) so many people were asking, “Where is Dickinson Center?” Being new to the Adirondacks, most towns were unknowns to me, but I remember feeling alarmed that we were kicking off our season in a place that even people who had grown up here had never heard of. It would not be the last time I learned to just let go and trust Nathalie. When we pulled up 45 mins before showtime, the parking lot was already full. People were so crowded in the bar that some sat outside the open door and listened, laughed, and literally slapped their knees.
4. In the summer of 2022, we trusted a precocious, new-to-town young writer, Jenna Audlin, to lead ACW’s first teen-led workshop for kids. Despite there only being two or three kids who showed up, Jenna brought enough positive energy and encouragement for thirty, and the kids who were there absolutely loved her. One kid was particularly bursting with energy, but Audlin managed and redirected him like a professional. He ended up contributing some of his work to Jenna’s second book. I learned about patience from watching Jenna manage her class. I’m so grateful for the Audlins, who have spearheaded the transformation of the teen lounge in ACW’s basement (after a broken water line last summer put the place out of commission). Just wait till you see it this Spring!
5. The first Kickass Writers Festival was amazing and exhausting for so many reasons, but the genuine enthusiasm of our featured author, Sylvia Vasquez-Lavado was what made Kickass something I could not wait to do again. It was so affirming to meet people who had traveled from many states away to see her speak in Saranac Lake. She took a group of festival attendees up to my favorite peak, Baker Mountain (which I have now climbed so many times I’ve lost count) and at the end of the festival at the Waterhole we talked about our shared alma mater, Millersville University, which she writes about in her memoir In the Shadow of the Mountain. (Okay, so I didn’t take these photos, but I still treasure them).
6. When my partner in life and lit, Erin Dorney won a grant with ACW to do two years of programming, the first project I watched her launch was the Poetry Machine, which we debuted at Chef Darrell’s diner in Blue Mountain Lake. We were greeted warmly by Chef Darrell who cooked us a delicious breakfast as we unveiled the machine and watched its first recipients—Betsy Folwell [RIP] and Tom Warrington—discover the poems inside. Then, Betsy and Tom ate with us and regaled us with stories of living on their boat and traversing the Erie Canal while we watched contractors, kids, and unsuspecting diners encounter the machine. It is programs like these that have instilled in me that poetry is for everyone. On the drive home I was beaming when I said to Erin, “I can’t believe this is my job.”
7. For Poem Village 2023, thanks to the participation of Mrs. Fobare and teachers at Petrova Elementary, we hosted a reading with their fourth grade classes. After discovering their poems around town, the kids then read their work on the mic. It was clear that for many of them this was their first time performing a poem for an audience, and many of them got really into it. Some of my favorite photos I’ve taken come from that day.
8. In an effort to bring more local writers into ACW and highlight important members of the regional writing community, I hosted Friday Night Writes for a few years. In the summer of 2023 I invited then managing editor of the Adirondack Daily Enterprise, Elizabeth Izzo, into the space to talk with her about the craft of writing an editorial for a newspaper, for which she had one a number of awards. It was important for me to spotlight ADE at ACW, because one of the lessons I learned from living here is how essential (and increasingly rare) it is to have trustworthy, independent local media institutions. Beyond presenting what’s happening in the world without the head-spinning pace and toxicity of social media, but also to learn about what’s happening with my own neighbors. Saranac Lake is special in that it has this daily paper where anyone can have their voice heard. I went on to start Teens Speak with ADE, a monthly opinion column written by Adirondack teenagers.
Okay so clearly I can’t stick to eight. Let’s try for ten.
9. Besides teaching me how to cook for seven people with a variety of diets, my time at Twitchell Lake over the last four Octobers has taught me to make the most of my time in the woods, to disconnect and go explore. I have looked forward to the residency every year, and I’ve made so many friends with the writers we’ve selected to join us for this unforgettable two weeks, but this last year’s residency was a delight and absolutely awe-inspiring. We climbed a peak for sunrise, and though we missed the elusive comet, we still saw a stunning show of color and fog. The photo at the top of this blog post is a “fog bow” I caught one morning on the dock. We also had the opportunity to go up in a seaplane and witness peak fall Adirondack foliage from a birds-eye view. This October I will be missing Twitchell Lake so hard.
10. It took me too long to learn that the best photos at events are not of the performers on stage, but of the audience enjoying the performance. What I see in this photo is an intergenerational diversity in our audience, a lot of joy, and evidence of the heretofore largest turnout we’ve ever had for an ACW event. It’s from two years ago, at the Howl Grand Slam at Harrietstown Town Hall. I have to wonder, as I write this just days before, whether this Saturday’s Grand Slam will beat that record.
ps. If you want to keep in touch, feel free to reach out at tylerstevenbarton@gmail.com, or find me on the internet at tsbarton.com or on Instagram (@tylerbartonlol) or BlueSky (@tylerbartonlol.bsky.social), or stop by Writers & Books in Rochester.