House of Words fosters spoken word poets, artists with new “open mic” format

IOWA CITY — It’s a Thursday night, and a string of lights on the stage have framed the backdrop of the stage in the shape of a house.

The microphone is open to anyone, but it’s not your average open mic.

Spoken word poets are rated in colors instead of numbers. Everyone in the house is a critic. And if you’re good enough, they’ll make sure they get it on camera.

But here, the scathing judgment that slam poetry competitions have become known for is traded for something more constructive. Through call and response prompts, for example, there’s no shortage of creative ways to energize budding performers.

“We love you, poet!” shouts Caleb Rainey, founder and organizer of the event, as the first performer prepares for her set.

“We ain’t never gonna stop loving you, poet!” the audience replies, as readily as a call for an “Amen” in a church.

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Welcome to the “mid-leagues” — a new space bridging the divide between amateurs and professionals in spoken word poetry, comedy, singing and other performance-based art forms.

In a void for development that has become a purgatory of sorts for many of them, the House of Words has become a home for dozens of artists in Iowa City and Grand Rapids, Michigan.

If you go

What: House of Words

When: third Thursday of every month

Where: Follow the show’s Instagram page @howopenmic for location

Cost: $10

How it works

Audiences have been gathering since August for something new: 12 open mic slots, filled at random by a drawing, on the third Thursday of each month.

Each evening is set up into two halves — the first open, the second curated with the best performers of the night. Performers are set up for success in a place where beginners can cut their teeth on the stage, and audiences are set up for an evening without the usual open mic boredom.

Beginners are welcome, but excellence is fostered through a constructive environment that encourages growth.

Each performer in the first half is given 5 minutes, with a hard limit.

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The audience is given three rating cards: a red one, which can be used at any time during the performance to bring it to an end immediately; a yellow one, used to tell artists they’ve done very well; and a green one, used by audience members who want to hear more from that artist in the second segment.

Red and green are used sparingly. All colors are used instead of numbers to offer a more constructive form of feedback.

“Numbers can end up being what we carry around, from my experience in poetry slams. If that poem got an 8, all I can think about is that it got an 8,” Rainey said. “I’ve watched people leave slams going ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever do that again.’ ”

The four artists with the most green card ratings are invited to deliver a 10-minute set in the second half. But what’s more than a longer performance is the opportunity for growth beyond the room they’re in.

Along with a chance to deepen their bond with the audience, their second performance is professionally filmed and given to them as a free tool to secure other professional gigs.

“We as an audience are watching you take the step from beginner to at least intermediate,” said Rainey.

For spoken word poets across most of America, spaces offering that chance are rare.

Why he started it

Caleb Rainey, the University of Iowa alum known as “The Negro Artist” and subject of a documentary touring the country, has been working for years to create new stages for spoken word. Since graduating in 2017, he has sparked interest from the next generation through high school workshops and served as director of Iowa City Poetry’s IC Speaks.

But as he splits his time between homes in Iowa City and Grand Rapids, he’s found a lack of spaces for them to go from being interested to getting serious.

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“We’ve lost certain places that used to nurture artists outside the polished Englert (Theatre) shows, and even The James,” he said.

When he produced poetry events, artists hungry for more would ask what they could do and where they could go next. He had little to offer them.

Unlike page poetry, spoken word poetry continues to languish in Iowa. The historically Black art form doesn’t have as much backing from traditional institutions like universities, and has struggled to maintain national competitive spaces, even as it has gained more popularity.

“Especially here, spoken word is absolutely seen as lesser. Spoken word is (perceived as) a hobby you do — something little and cute,” Rainey said.

A lack of opportunities for artists to hone their craft has resulted in fewer serious artists. And when spoken word poets do make it to more professional settings, Rainey said they’re often ill-equipped to succeed.

That, in turn, reinforces a negative perception among those who may be seeing spoken word for the first time at those event.

“Some of the bravest steps we take, we take with community,” Rainey said. “I could write brave poems at home, but I won’t take those steps until there’s a community waiting to celebrate me.”

Therein lies the difference between the average open mic and House of Words: each performance isn’t just a spectatorship in a dark room — it’s an engaging conversation.

House of Words has drawn poets from all over Iowa to Iowa City for an event that’s just doesn’t exist in most places.

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“It’s not an open mic, it’s not a slam. It’s a curated show happening in the moment,” said Hannah Hall, an Iowa City poet known as Hannah/Charlie Hall who has toured with Rainey and films each House of Words. “I’ve seen a really excited community around it.”

A vision for growth

Rainey and Michigan poet Greg Foster, who performs as AutoPilot, have organized the event together in Grand Rapids. Foster, who approached Rainey with an idea for a new open mic event, planted the first thoughts of what would eventually become House of Words.

Drunken Retort, a predecessor event hosted by Foster, has a system of bells for feedback, as well as a particular phrase to give a performer the hook — “Get the (expletive) off the stage!”

“I’m always surprised by the level of talent that graces our doors,” Foster said. “The stage always shows talent — whether that talent needs to be polished, given critiques, or given the opportunity to do it again. Then, you shine when the opportunity knocks.”

Performers who make it to the final round love being able to use professional videos of their performance to secure new opportunities, he said.

Rainey has a vision beyond Iowa and Michigan, too. After inheriting leadership of the BlackBerry Peach National Poetry Slam with Des Moines poet Kelsey Bigelow, he has a vision to replicate House of Words in theaters across the country.

“When you have opportunities to regularly hone your craft, practice it, see how it lands for a crowd, you end up more and more invested in your work and ask ‘How do I get better?’” he said. “But if you never get the opportunity to get it off the ground, you stop becoming the artist you’re meant to be.”

Comments: Features reporter Elijah Decious can be reached at (319) 398-8340 or elijah.decious@thegazette.com.