Robinson Jeffers & Tor House

Tor House


Hawk Tower

I was in Carmel-By-the-Sea in California in mid-February 2010 to give a presentation at the annual conference of the Robinson Jeffers Association, of which I am a member. (Giving this paper at this conference was my only fixed agenda on this recent roadtrip out to California and back; the rest of my time was devoted to being on vacation, making photographs, and visiting friends and family.) The theme of the conference was "Robinson Jeffers and the Poetry of the West." I was part of a Sunday morning panel that discussed ecopoetics, fire- and water-ecosystem management and its poetics, and related matters. I gave a talk as an artist, then showed an original video. I thought my presentation went very well; and it was well-received, and received some very good comments. (I'll post a version of it here, when I get a chance.)



I approached my topic as an artist, rather than as a scholar, academic professor, critic, or literary analyst. There were at the conference the usual number of papers that looked into the details of poetic content, form, and analysis; but I'm proud to say that I quoted no poems in my paper, and did no analysis. This set me quite outside the norm, where I am usually more comfortable. I've been an academic scholar; I've presented lots of papers at academic conferences, although it's been at least 15 years since I did anything like this; and I decided to do something completely different. I even went so far as to read my paper from my laptop, rather than print it out beforehand. I actually read from notes rather than a finished paper; I'm not that fond of just reading a pre-written text out loud at these sorts of conferences; it can get a bit deadening to do only that.





The first evening of this annual conference, there was an informal social gathering and poetry reading at Tor House, overlooking the ocean at the edge of Carmel, the home that Jeffers built out of the local stone for himself, his wife Una, and their children. During this social get-together, we were allowed to wander the grounds, explore the house, climb Hawk Tower to look out over the ocean and the surrounding lands, and take as many photos for ourselves as we wished. All of which I avidly partook. It was a real challenge climbing up to the top of Hawk Tower—steep, steep risers, narrow, rain-wet stairs with no real handholds except the stones themselves—but I'm glad I did. Not only for the view, but to have stood where Jeffers stood, and seen the view of Point Lobos and the other spurs of land extending out into the Pacific Ocean.


the oceanside gate, and Hawk Tower


garden bench at the foot of Hawk Tower

Tor House is maintained and operated now by the private Tor House Foundation, which offers tours and sponsors events, including an annual poetry contest. This year they also provided a lot of the logistical support for the annual conference; wonderful people doing wonderful work, to preserve the house that Jeffers built, and to preserve and extend his legacy.


lilies, by the gate

After the conference, as we were all breaking up to go home, one of my co-panelists told me that he had very much appreciated that I had approached Jeffers as an artist, not just as a writer. I thanked him for understanding my message, if you will, on that very point.



Robinson Jeffers was an artist: in addition to being a poet, he was a stonemason, a designer, a builder, a carpenter, a garden designer, and more. He was visually aware: I argue that his poetry is almost cinematic at times, giving us a sequence of images that create a narrative, almost non-verbally, although made of words, because presented without interpretation or commentary. Although he is well-known for his long narrative poems, his essays giving us his still-controversial views on poetics and politics and social reality, in fact in many of his shorter lyrics the world is just presented as it is: Jeffers was a keen visual observer. His observations led him towards an understanding of coastal fire ecology decades before such was formulated; he was keenly aware of the life and death of the natural world around him, the rhythms of the ocean and climate, the meanings given by us to the stars overhead. He knew his place very well indeed.


Tor House, from the top of Hawk Tower