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Friday, May 27, 2011

Eve Packer

One evening, it was in December 1999, my sister Jill gave me a call and said that we were invited at a party at a very good friend of her, Eve. I left home, took the ferry (I was living in Staten Island), and met in Manhattan with Jill. Together we went to the party, in an apartment not far from Washington Square. Eve opened us, it was the first time I was seeing her: a very nice person with witty eyes and a genuine smile, busy with the refreshments for the partiers. We entered the living room, Jill and me, it was full of people. I think there were twenty or thirty people there, maybe more. Later came also Pola, my other sister, with her husband.

Wine and beer was in abundance, sweets, cheese, grapes, and the like. A guy was gently playing a keyboard, his name was, if my memories are good, Funky Felonious. Steve Dalachinsky was there, along with Yuko, his wife. I made friends quickly with several people in the room, the atmosphere was very open. They all were artists of some kind or another, poets or musicians, or both (like Steve), the artistic milieu of the Village.

A Bronx-born, Eve Packer is a poet and a performance artist. As a poet she's the kind of Weegee poet, it means, as authentic, as provocative, as the New York shot by Weegee is. As a performer she is a spoken word artist, it means, her performances add to poetry the fourth dimension: her art is poetry, and her art is jazz - her jazz is spoken word art, that's it.

I'm going to post here in near future some of Eve's poems, each one is a gem: fun, thrilling, provocative, sharp as a stiletto (Stephen Wolf, the Villager). Here is an interview she gave in January 2011. Enjoy!

(A Life in Books)



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