typewriter

On a Wednesday morning in Terminal 1 at LAX, traveler Nikki Hexum found herself in tears. Crying, on its face, is not an unusual occurrence at LAX. The notorious airport is a tender spot for Angelenos and tourists. Nearby, a displeased lawyer squabbles about a case into his phone. Flight attendants whisk by in pressed uniforms. A delay is announced over a speaker.

Today, an unexpected brush with poetry brought Hexum to tears. She was about to board a flight to Nashville, where she would discuss AI regulation at a film festival for her job, when she stumbled upon Brian Sonia-Wallace, the poet laureate of Los Angeles, sitting at a 1940s-model Underwood typewriter writing custom poems for passing travelers. As Hexum told him about her trip, he began to type, the clacking of the keys echoing through the terminal. When he finished, he read the poem aloud. Hexum’s eyes began to well.

“I sat in something where there was discomfort, but at the end of it, it became something amazing,” Hexum says. The encounter affirmed something for Hexum: the importance of spontaneous human interactions in a world where communication is increasingly relegated to AI. “I think we lost that ability to do that a lot,” she says as she wipes her eyes.

Hexum was one of dozens of travelers who received a custom poem from Sonia-Wallace as they waited to board their flights. Some were traveling to funerals, weddings and family reunions that the poet laureate commemorated in a poem written in minutes. Even flight attendants confided in Sonia-Wallace about their love of travel, which he honored in a poem. Soon, a line of eager travelers began to form.

Poet Brian Sonia-Wallace, center, chats with a traveler as others wait their turn for their own personalized poem in Terminal 1 at LAX.

“We had a couple of criers today,” says Sonia-Wallace. “There’s something about the typewriter and poetry that brings out the best in people.” On the table beside the typewriter, a placard reads: “Retro Chat GPT.” Behind the poet, a banner reads: “Everyone deserves a poem.”

Traveler Silvia Portillo was waiting to board a flight to Colorado. She was heading to her hometown of Glenwood Springs, Colo., to attend her sister’s wedding when she encountered Sonia-Wallace and his typewriter. She asked for a poem dedicated to her sister’s wedding, which she plans to present on the big day. “I thought it would be really cool if he made a personalized one for her, a little extra wedding gift,” Portillo says.

Waiting for a delayed flight, traveler Cassie Feldman tells the poet that she’s looking to shed old patterns before boarding a flight to St. Louis for a family gathering. He begins to read her the poem: “We gather with our old new selves.”

Feldman is delighted. “It was really cool,” she says. “It was an experience you don’t really get, especially at the airport.”

Los Angeles Poet Laureate Brian Sonia-Wallace dubs his pop-up poetry project as “Retro Chat GPT.”

Sarah Cifarelli, the LAX arts program director, was thrilled when Sonia-Wallace reached out about doing an installation at the airport. “Airports can feel very transactional with lots of logistics and very functional. Being able to engage with someone like Brian brings more humanity to that journey,” says Cifarelli. She works on programming art and installations at LAX that showcase the city’s vibrant arts scene, including its literary merits. “I think this helps us recalibrate our brains … to connect with others and take notice of what’s going on around us.”

The interactions between subject and poet can be surprisingly intimate. Travelers described lost loved ones, personal tragedies and battles with insecurity, regret and doubts. “My favorite people will be like, ‘I didn’t know this was going to be therapy,’” says Sonia-Wallace. “It’s whatever you want to use it for.”

Over the last decade, Sonia-Wallace has made it a habit to bring poetry to unexpected places like the Los Angeles airport. Since being announced as the poet laureate of Los Angeles in April, he has hit the ground running — delivering poetry to civic spaces like the L.A. Zoo and animal services. “What a poet can do is create pause,” he says. “Like, ‘hold on, what am I thinking? What am I feeling?’”

Poet Brian Sonia-Wallace’s beloved 1940s-model Underwood typewriter.

Sonia-Wallace describes the clacking of the typewriter as his siren song. The inherent theater of it lures a crowd. “If you see someone with a notebook or a laptop, that person wants to be left alone. If you see someone with a typewriter, there’s something happening here,” says the poet. He’s become something of a collector, with 10 typewriters stored in the trunk of his car because he’s run out of room in his studio apartment, even storing one in his bathroom.

Clad in a newsboy hat, Sonia-Wallace sees his practice as being as much about performance as the poetry, comparing his work to that of a pastor or tarot reader. “I was really into [the performance artist] Marina Abramovic, and this idea of the artist is present, and how does the presence of someone making something influence how we think about art,” he says.

The collision of LAX pandemonium and poetry intrigues Sonia-Wallace. The poetry softens people even in the throes of a hectic travel day, he argues. “I love the element of surprise. If someone comes to a poetry event, they’re expecting that. If someone’s just in the airport, and then there’s poetry there. All of a sudden, poetry becomes more interesting,” he says.

The practice began in 2010 when Sonia-Wallace wrote custom poetry for travelers at a Metro line opening on a borrowed typewriter. In 2014, when he got laid off, Sonia-Wallace experimented with making a living from poetry by writing at farmers markets, festivals and the Venice Beach boardwalk — and accepting tips. “I just popped up wherever I could,” he explains. Eventually, the poet began writing custom poetry at private events like weddings and corporate parties before he partnered with the city of Los Angeles.

Traveler Silvia Portillo, center, in Terminal 1 at LAX, accepts her freshly written poem.

The poet hopes to humanize bureaucratic spaces like the airport, a thorny subject for many disgruntled travelers. “I think about using poetry as a stand-in for arts and culture more generally to humanize bureaucratic spaces and create an experience for people that’s a little more personal.”

Cifarelli plans to bring Sonia-Wallace and his typewriter back to LAX in the coming months, and to invite a piano and other poets along.

Hexum prepared to board the plane to Nashville with her freshly inked poem in hand. “I’m gonna treasure this forever,” she says, gripping the poem as she floats toward her gate, and soon, into the sky.

Upcoming poetry pop-ups with the poet laureate of Los Angeles:

• Nov. 21 — Poets in the Wild at the Los Angeles Zoo
• Dec. 7 — Terminal 3 at LAX, a three-poet activation marking National Letter Writing Day.
• Feb. 11 — Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX, West Gates, a full performance activation with multiple poets and a pianist, ahead of Valentine’s Day.

Connors is a culture journalist in L.A. She covers books, food, entertainment and offbeat Los Angeles. She’s currently at work on a book of essays about tourism in all its forms.