[encore] 236: Polaroid Ode by Cori Winrock

Summary

Summary of [Encore] 236: Polaroid Ode by Cori Winrock

Podcast Information:

• Title: The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily
• Host/Author: American Public Media
• Episode: [Encore] 236: Polaroid Ode by Cori Winrock
• Release Date: May 16, 2025

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Introduction and Episode Context

In this encore episode of The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily, host Major Jackson delves into the rich archives of the show to revisit a memorable episode originally presented by former host Tracy K. Smith. This special selection highlights Tracy’s insightful exploration of nostalgia and the evocative power of photography through Cori Winrock's poem, "Polaroid Ode."

Reflection by Tracy K. Smith [00:31 - 05:42]

Tracy K. Smith begins by reminiscing about her childhood experiences with photography, specifically contrasting her mother's vintage Kodak Brownie camera with the iconic Polaroid SX70 instant camera. She paints a vivid picture of the tactile and magical process of instant photography, emphasizing the imperfect charm of Polaroid images:

“There was something off, compositionally speaking, in just about every Polaroid photo I ever saw. Too much rug, too much shadow, too bright a glare off the velvet sofa.” [02:15]

Smith reflects on how these flawed yet sentimental photographs became cherished time capsules, preserving moments that define personal and familial histories. She shares a poignant memory of her sister capturing an image of Al Pacino during a movie, illustrating how these images serve as enduring witnesses to fleeting moments:

“Somehow that photo and others like it bear witness to our lives in ways little else can.” [03:10]

Transitioning to the present, Tracy discusses the modern resurgence of Polaroid cameras, gifted to her daughter Naomi. She observes the continuation of the Polaroid's magic despite technological advancements, drawing parallels between past and present generations:

“To my 21st century kids, the instant pictures are a fleeting novelty, something more concrete than a cell phone selfie. To me, the feeling is one of safety, nostalgia, and maybe even a little dram of grief.” [04:05]

Presentation of "Polaroid Ode" by Cori Winrock [04:30 - 05:42]

Tracy introduces Cori Winrock's "Polaroid Ode," highlighting how the poem encapsulates the bittersweet ceremony of taking instant photographs. She articulates the poem's ability to evoke both hope and disappointment, fostering a sense of wistfulness for both the past and the present.

The poem reflects on the tactile and chemical processes behind Polaroid photography, intertwining memories with sensory experiences:

“O snapshot. O etherized flash of childhood swarm of chemicals murmuring together to form empty sky exposing days blue dissolve from blue.” [04:50]

Through vivid imagery, the poem explores themes of memory, loss, and the passage of time, emphasizing the emotional resonance of captured moments.

Concluding Reflections by Major Jackson [05:42 - 07:20]

Major Jackson concludes the episode by acknowledging the collaborative efforts behind The Slowdown, highlighting contributions from producers, composers, and previous hosts. He extends gratitude to the Library of Congress for their partnership, underscoring the show's commitment to celebrating poetry and reflection.

Notable Quotes:

• Tracy K. Smith at [02:15]:

  “There was something off, compositionally speaking, in just about every Polaroid photo I ever saw. Too much rug, too much shadow, too bright a glare off the velvet sofa.”

• Tracy K. Smith at [03:10]:

  “Somehow that photo and others like it bear witness to our lives in ways little else can.”

• Tracy K. Smith at [04:05]:

  “To my 21st century kids, the instant pictures are a fleeting novelty, something more concrete than a cell phone selfie. To me, the feeling is one of safety, nostalgia, and maybe even a little dram of grief.”

• Excerpt from "Polaroid Ode" by Cori Winrock at [04:50]:

  “O snapshot. O etherized flash of childhood swarm of chemicals murmuring together to form empty sky exposing days blue dissolve from blue.”

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Conclusion

This encore episode serves as a heartfelt homage to the enduring legacy of Polaroid photography and its profound impact on personal memory and cultural history. Through Tracy K. Smith’s eloquent reflections and Cori Winrock’s evocative poetry, listeners are invited to contemplate the intricate dance between past and present, captured forever in the fleeting moments of an instant photograph.

For those who have not yet experienced this episode, it offers a compelling blend of personal narrative and poetic artistry, exemplifying The Slowdown’s mission to provide daily moments of calm, inspiration, and deep reflection through the power of poetry.

Transcript

[Lisa]

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[Major]

Hey there. It's major. As we take a look back at the Slowdown's deep well of episodes, we're revisiting some standout moments from past hosts. Today, we're going into the Vault to bring you an episode from Tracy K. Smith, one of the voices that helped shape the Slowdown into what it is today. This is just one of the many special selections from our archives.

[Tracy K. Smith]

I'm Tracy K. Smith and this is the Slowdown. When I was a kid, my mother had an old Kodak Brownie from the 1950s. It was a camera made of pebbly black Bakelite and brushed chrome. To capture an image, you held the thing at waist length level and looked down into its viewfinder, which must have been fashioned out of some kind of a mirror. By the time I played with it, that camera was just a toy, a reminder of another era. The only evidence that it had ever worked came from all the photos of my parents in their youth that filled so many of our family albums. The reigning camera of the decade was the Polaroid SX70 instant camera, which spat 3 inch square images out of the front. Images we shook in the air and then watched slowly, magically come into view. There was something off, compositionally speaking, in just about every Polaroid photo I ever saw. Too much rug, too much shadow, too bright a glare off the velvet sofa. The glossy images got tucked into books, stashed in junk drawers, shuffled away only to turn up months or years later like a time capsule attesting to what once made up our lives. I have a very clear memory of a Polaroid. My sister Jean once snapped of Al Pacino when the movie Serpico was playing on television. The image is all pale greens and blacks, watery and muddy at the same time. Somehow that photo and others like it bear witness to our lives in ways little else can. Two years ago, Jean sent a modern day reboot of the Polaroid camera to my daughter Naomi. There are differences in size, shape and proportion, but the basic magic remains the same. You put your eye to the viewfinder, press the button and out is spat a soon to be legible photographic image. Through some alchemy of chemicals and light, the scattershot images make the world my children and I live in look uncannily similar to the world my family inhabited in the late 70s. To my 21st century kids, the instant pictures are a fleeting novelty, something more concrete than a cell phone selfie. To me, the feeling is one of safety, nostalgia, and maybe even a little dram of grief. Today's poem is Polaroid Ode by Corey Winrock. It captures the look and feel and ceremony with all its hope and disappointment of taking instant pictures. And it makes me wistful both for the past and the present. Polaroid Ode by Corey Winrock oh four cornered room in which we tuck the ever developing light of our warm bodies. O snapshot. O etherized flash of childhood swarm of chemicals murmuring together to form empty sky exposing days blue dissolve from blue. Oh bad 70s plaid sofas and pearl snapshirts, costumes fading like Fisher Price cars on washed out lawns. O moon boots without stars. O family regathering as light seep as grief. O ablation and emulsion and actual moon. You day lurker, you balloon. I imagine deflating above our duplex. Why the resistance? Tell me who was in our living room to capture this instant? Whose hand was shaking us into existence?

[Major]

The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the [e-mail] to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram at slowdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org our lead producer is Micah Kilbon and and our associate producer is Maria Wartel. Our music is composed by Alexis Cuadrado, engineering by Alex Simpson and Josh Savageau. Our digital producer is James Napoli. Additional production help by Susanna Sharpless, Rebecca Rand, Jordan Turgeon and Lauren Humpert. Our executives in charge of APM Studios are Chandra Kavati and Joanne Griffith. Special thank you to former Slowdown producers Jennifer Lai and Tracy Mumford, who critically shaped the show. You know, today, an appreciation to the Library of Congress for your partnership.

[This Old House Host]

This old house has been America's most trusted source for all things DIY and home improvement for decades. And now we're on the radio and on demand.

[Major]

I think you're breaking into this wall. Regardless.

[Tracy K. Smith]

I was hoping you wouldn't say that.

[Major]

I need to go and get some whiskey. I think I would get the whiskey for sure.

[This Old House Host]

Subscribe to this Old House Radio hour from LAS Studios. Wherever you get your podcasts.