The Complexity of Seeing and Being Seen
Carol Moldaw discusses her latest collection, Go Figure, and shares insights about art, perception, and poetry
I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Poet Carol Moldaw about Go Figure, her seventh poetry collection, including how themes emerged organically, influenced by a longstanding interest in how we see the world and how we are perceived by others.
We chatted about:
Themes of perception and being perceived, drawing on Moldaw’s experiences as both an artist and subject in art
Complexity and duality in Go Figure, and in poetry, generally
The importance of balancing attention and inattention in the creative process
The necessity of persistence, finding good readers, and maintaining a balance between vulnerability and critical self-assessment
Carol Moldaw is an American lyric poet. Go Figure was published in 2024. Her other books are Beauty Refracted; So Late, So Soon: New and Selected Poems; The Lightning Field, which won The FIELD Prize; Through the Window; Chalkmarks on Stone; Taken from the River; and a novella, The Widening. Published widely in literary journals, Moldaw is the recipient of several literary honors including a Merwin Conservancy Artist Residency, a National Endowment for the Arts Creative Writing Fellowship, a Pushcart Prize, and a Lannan Foundation Residency Fellowship.
Watch the video below, or keep scrolling to read an excerpt from the interview. To hear Carol read poems from Go Figure, check out the video.
The Complexity of Seeing and Being Seen
[Interview lightly edited for clarity.]
Radha Marcum: We talked briefly about the book before starting this interview, and I was immediately struck by a recurring theme in these poems—seeing and being seen. There’s an exploration of how the world strikes us and how we, in turn, are perceived by others. Can you share more about those themes and what was coming up for you in this work?
Carol Moldaw: I think it started organically, stemming from how I look at art—particularly art that portrays women—and the intersection of looking and creating. I’ve often struggled to understand how I’m seen, which became an area of interest for me. When I realized it was almost a blind spot, I started thinking about it more deeply. But what really drew me in was the complexity of it—the experience of being an artist while also being a figure in other people’s work. It strikes me as a complicated, intricate, and important question: how we see, how we create from what we see, and how we are perceived in the world. I suppose you could call it an obsession of mine, but in this book, it surfaced in a new way.
Radha: Some of the poems that explore this theme are ekphrastic works. Can you talk a bit about those moments of perceiving artwork and how they lead to a poem?
Carol: The first thing I’ll say isn’t actually in a poem—though it’s referenced in one. I came across a quote from Modigliani, though I don’t know its exact source. I saw it written on an index card at a Stanford Art Museum exhibit of his drawings. The paraphrase—though I have the exact wording somewhere—is something like: With one eye, we’re always looking inward, and with one eye, we’re always looking outward. That quote, along with another from the same exhibit about art resisting obligations, became two guiding ideas for me.
One of the poems that emerged from looking at art is “Painter and Model (I).” What fascinated me about that piece was the dynamic between Lucian Freud, the painter, and his model, Celia Paul, who is also an extraordinary painter herself—and the mother of one of his many children. I was struck by the idea of a painter modeling for another painter, being both subject and creator. Celia Paul has also written beautifully about the experience in her memoir Self-Portrait, which added another layer of intrigue for me.
The other day, I was talking to someone about the poem “On Being Mused Upon” and how I was surprised by the ending—how it veered into a reflection on the daughter. Sometimes, when a poem takes an unexpected turn, you might wonder if you’re avoiding something, steering away because you don’t want to confront it. But in this case, it felt right. I think part of what the poem is grappling with is the idea that, in the end, it doesn’t really matter how you’re seen. It’s important not to be preoccupied with that—just as, in a daughter’s growth, it’s important for her not to care if something gets approval or disapproval.
Radha: I can relate to that—a mother seeing her daughter in a kind of dissonance in self-perception. There’s my own perception of my daughter, of course, but then there’s the added complexity of her being female in the world. Perceptions are so layered, with a lot of dissonance between how we see ourselves and what the world projects onto us.
Carol: Yeah, and I think it changes at different stages of life as a woman. As a young woman, you're inevitably seen in a certain way—by older men, younger men, or even by society at large. And then, as you age, that perception shifts. One of the poems in this collection, “Game Face,” explores that idea—how aging affects the way you’re seen and whether that matters. Does one want to be seen differently? And if so, in what way?
Radha: That complexity comes through in poems like “Painter and Model (I),” which, on the surface, seems to be about the subject-object relationship. Yet, there’s a sense in which the inner and outer worlds are inseparable—they can’t be unblended. Similarly, past, future, and present all seem to coexist within the poem, just as they do in the painting. That tension is so present.
In a recent reading you gave, you mentioned that poetry arises from a deep attention—really looking—but also from its seeming opposite: a lack of attention or a failure to look. Can you talk a little bit about that?
Carol: What I was referring to was the balance between attention and inattention. But before I get into that, I just want to acknowledge the complexity you mentioned. When we ask, What is a poem about?, we might give a simple answer—hope, or the relationship between painter and muse, poet and muse—but really, a poem is about so many things. Every detail adds to its complexity.
For example, when I read “Painter and Model (I)” and reach the part near the end where I describe the invisible lines of perspective that the feet create, I sometimes wonder if I might lose listeners there. I think readers can follow it, but that moment feels so important to me because it's about perspective—how intersecting lines shape what we see. And in many ways, poetry itself is about seeing, about holding multiple perspectives at once.
When I was assembling this book, I was startled to find a close phrase in two very different poems. In “Lessons,” which reflects on how I was raised as a girl, particularly in relation to men, I wrote: Inattentiveness and inattention assume the same rapt mask. Years later, in a poem about W.S. Merwin’s work, "First Days at the Conservancy,” I wrote about his poems as grown from syllable seeds and a custom mix of attention and inattention. These poems were written years apart, and I hadn’t realized the parallel at the time. But what fascinated me was that the very thing I had criticized—the way I was conditioned to be inattentive—also holds a seed of creativity.
To create anything, you need attentiveness. You have to look outward with intention. But at the same time, there has to be space for creativity to emerge, and that space comes from inattention. Neither one works fully without the other. Pure inattention gives us little, but if it’s all attention, there’s no room for the unconscious, the subconscious, or the metaphorical weaving that poetry does so beautifully.
A similar idea came up recently in a discussion about creativity and will. Someone was talking about creating from willpower alone, and I responded that while will is important, what’s even more essential is willingness. It’s a subtle distinction, but a significant one—just as both attention and inattention play crucial roles in the creative process.
View this and other interviews on the Poet to Poet YouTube channel.
Learn more about Carol Moldaw’s work on her website.
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UPCOMING EVENTS
Colorado poets, join Elizabeth Robinson on February 8, 10:00am-5:00pm for Contemporary Eco-poetries, Lighthouse Writers Workshop (Denver, in person). The workshop is followed by a happy hour and reading (featuring Elizabeth and yours truly!)—open to all, but you do need tickets. Hope to see you there!
So much wisdom here. Gold.