February 13, 2021 ~ For Janice
Large pink post-its adorn the pages of my copy of Janice Lobo Sapigao’s book microchips for millions

The heater is on blast. I’m listening to Khruangbin radio on Spotify as I write this missive to you. I’m re-reading your book microchips for millions and preparing for a talk I’m giving in April about the relationships and genealogy of capitalism, race, and the electronics manufacturing industry.

Your words are potent. Your lines and stanzas are lightning bolts and shields.

Your writing has deeply inspired how I work, look at objects, and how I excavate my experiences, memories, and the knowledge I’ve gained over the years. Suddenly, I’m thinking of how I had your jacket for months after the &Now conference back in Fall 2019. You read some of your newer work based on EKGs and heartbeats. Then, in January 2020, a couple of months before the shelter-in-place (SIP) mandate, I saw you, grace burns and Melinda de Jesus read your poetry in a subterranean room in the South San Francisco library. It was an incredible line-up and I was fortunate to see you read, yet again, listening to your new work. But this time, it was about your mother and I was left speechless. As I listened, I felt my organs crowding inside my body around my heart. There was a pressure, it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it’s as if my body couldn’t contain what I was listening to. Does that make any sense? Perhaps, it’s also my nervousness about writing you a letter, a writer and artist I deeply admire. Although we’ve met and hung out, the pandemic took away the opportunities to see you again, listen to you read your work and just connect in person. I’ve been thinking about you this past year because of what your heart has been going through on top of what I imagine is not the most ideal situation when it comes to teaching. I don’t know about you, but I mentioned to a dear friend yesterday that it’s been difficult to work with students I’m unable to see. I don’t blame them. Many of these students I work with were hoping to socialize, hang out, enjoy the between-class-banter, party with friends, and be free to be young and adventurous.

I express all of this because in-person poetry readings are something I miss very much. Your reading was the last poetry reading I attended. While I’ve gone to untold readings online and have done my fair share of zoom panels and talks, there’s nothing like seeing the artist flip through the pages of their book, manuscript, or papers. Last year, I started reading Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings and she writes about studying stand-up comedy, in particular, Richard Pryor. I also attempted to take a stand-up comedy workshop a few months into SIP, which was extremely frustrating (because it was online, not because of the instructor) because it’s…STAND-UP (the name is a physical act(ion)). I share this because you have a way of sliding jokes into your writing and poetry readings that is extremely endearing, but also made me feel, instantly comfortable. Before I formally met you, I remember discovering your work through KQED’s Women to Watch back in 2017 and watching a video of you reading your poem My Name is Janice. It forced me to think about my relationship with my name, which I had not thought deeply about until hearing you read all of the intricacies in your name. There were moments of humor, but the emotional beats captivated my interest and I’ve been hooked on your work since then. Your students are so incredibly fortunate to have you as their professor. I remember seeing Douglas Kearney at the &Now conference and he spoke highly of you. ♥️

As I think about you, your mother, and the state of our world, I, truly, hope I can do your work justice during my talk because of how much it has inspired the way we ought to look at the technology we use because there are many people especially women and femmes at the helm of what makes our world run and enables us to connect. You know, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Melanie Hoff’s work, but she led a workshop recently and one of the guiding questions she goes by in her work is “What if all the software we used was made by people who love us?” She’s a lovely human being and I feel you two would have a fascinating conversation. The relationship between software and hardware also doesn’t have to be as binary as we might think. I guess that’s where your work serves as a bridge for me to understanding new media and digital art. I remember, when I was working on my master’s (geez, that was 8 years ago now!), I remember talking to one of my friends Vanessa (she was in my cohort) and I told her how I wish there was a way for me to write about the digital and technology that was much more tender, soft, and where the boundaries and edges weren’t so, well, straight-edged and sleek. Believe it or not, your work showed me that this is very (very) possible and not in some anecdotal way, but in a way that pierces the heart and, just, stays there and becomes a part of who we are. You do this for me and I’m certain, for many others. You are an inspiration to me and everyone that meets you. Please never forget that and if you need reminding, reach out. I will, most certainly tell you how special and necessary you are in this world and beyond. 🥰
['Dorothy Santos']
['Bay Area', 'Poetry', 'Creative Practice', 'Technology', 'Janice Lobo Sapigao']