Week 20 - Yakov Wahnich - Pick-A-Poet “The Gallerist”

As a quick reminder, my poet is Kevin Coval, a Chicago-born Jewish artist that frequently highlights his deep felt connection to Chicago and his Jewish heritage through his writing. Most of his poems describe the hardships he’s witnessed while living in the inner city of Chicago, but the flow of his poems are often unique; sometimes choppy, sometimes ambiguous, and sometimes just explicit storytelling. In my last Pick-A-Poet, I discussed his poem “The Oil and Incense Man,” in which he vividly describes, and almost glorifies, a local corner-store owner that sells incense, oils, and things of that sort. Today, I found another poem of his that shares a few commonalities with “The Oil and Incense Man,” one being that Coval once again fixates on a central main character throughout the poem. In this poem, Coval describes a gallerist using abrupt, contrasting details presented in a choppy (and seemingly confusing) rhythm. 

Common in Coval’s writing style, this poem “The Gallerist” is rich with descriptions like “he stirs a pot of gumbo beneath the blue line” and “he’s avenue royalty in a gas station onesie.” Out of context and without proper analysis, these details may seem abstract and unrelated, but like I said, they are vivid descriptions from the right perspective. The “blue line” Coval alludes to here represents the concept that the police act like a line, preventing society from turning into anarchy. This gallerist cooking, living, and working below this “blue line” seems to illustrate that he’s a part of the inner city of Chicago that Coval correlates to being chaotic; a symbolic no-man’s land that lies beneath this “blue line” of protection. Coval continues to outline that the Gallerist has a significant presence in this community by describing him as “avenue royalty,” most likely suggesting that people on the Gallerists’ block know and respect who he is. As per usual, Coval sprinkles in little details that usually amount to his social commentary on living in the heart of Chicago. He mentions that the gallerist “sells paintings” and wears “a gas station onesie,” as well as operating or working at a coffee shop. I think all these details serve to outline the day-to-day hustle Coval witnessed in this Gallerist working multiple jobs all the while establishing his presence on “the ave” and in his community.