As the title of his 2022 poetry collection, Play: A Reclamation of Soul suggests, Christian Perfas, aka Soul Stuf, is heartwarmingly goofy. He’s able to lightly poke fun at his foibles while staying honest about who he is. He’s able to invite the reader into a difficult situation he’s navigating in a way that is familiar, yet affably engaging, before filtering it through his perspective, his life experiences, enabling the reader to pick up the life lessons and insights Perfas has gained along the way.

This “play” in terms of personality and understanding stems from Perfas’ immersion in hip-hop culture, “growing up in sleepy upstate NY.” Through the internet, he was “fond of rap and free-style rap, honing the craft from age 12…through college.”

In 2014, after graduating from college, Perfas moved across the country to Los Ángeles “to pursue a creative lifestyle,” he said in a VoyageLA interview. To engage in the myth, that L.Á. is free from the burden of traditions, from the expectations of history. Often hindrances to the creative play of ideas.

But when Perfas is behind the mic in Historic Filipinotown, Long Beach or anywhere else in Greater L.Á., he channels his goofy and affable personality to deliver his woods, his play, “to feel unfettered…” while ensuring “to remember” as seen in poems written after Dante Bosco and Alyesha Wise.

Recently, I asked Christian Perfas about the influences on his writing, local and otherwise and how they’ve shaped his poetry.

---

Brian Dunlap: Who were the original influences on your writing? Poets, writers, maybe even musicians? Teachers? Why and how have they influenced your writing?

Christian Perfas: Ooooh, there’s so many to pick from, where do I even begin? In no particular order, I’d have to say my biggest creative influences are: Bo Burnham (musical comedian), Lin-Manuel Miranda (actor-director), Donald Glover (multi-hyphenate), Jonathan Park AKA ‘Dumbfoundead, Carter Deems (rappers), Phil Kaye, Sarah Kay, Rudy Francisco, Olivia Gatwood, Sabrina Benaim, Beau Sia, Arianna Basco AKA. Lady B, (poets). And regarding the last two, I consider both of them de facto mentors of mine through the Our Mic and Palms Up Academy spaces, respectively.

As a rapper & actor prior to my adoption of poetry as my primary craft, I’ve always been very attracted to a certain level of performative flair combined with earnest heart and grit, so to speak. I wasn’t particularly confident as a poet starting out (hence my predilection for improvisation), so I drew a lot from artists who seemed to incorporate multiple types of media in their work (which I did as well, starting out) and who also had a very satirical, tongue-in-cheek take on what they produced.

I feel like artists of all genres take themselves too seriously sometimes, so a big flavor in what I write is playful, pokes fun, and deconstructs a lot of things we (as a society) take for granted. In regards to the poets I listed specifically, I feel like a lot of my voice originates from some key aspect I’ve resonated within their work: whether Gatwood’s venomous, biting wit—Kaye’s methodical painting with precise words- or Sia’s boundless energy, I love carrying echoes of my favorite authors in my writing and performance.

Dunlap: What local writers, past or present, have been influential to your writing and/or you’ve fallen in love with? In what ways have they been influential to your writing and/or in what ways have you fallen in love with their work?

Perfas: Oooooh, okay—locally? Well, not including the aforementioned Basco and Sia, I’d say I’m particularly entranced by the likes of Shihan Van Clief, Sheila Sadr, Edwin Bodney, Brian Oliva AKA. SuperB, the late Joe Limer, Marc J. Cid, Pastiche Queen, and Ravina Wadhwani, to name a few. Honestly, they’re all pretty different poets, stylistically speaking (though incredible performers one and the same), but from each, I’ve garnered a lot both on a writing and performance level. If I break down some of those fundamental features one at a time, I’d say:

Shihan is a masterclass in owning your own space and style and showing up as your authentic self. I heard him say once that you should always show up to each and every performance as you are, not as the person you’d like to project to the audience, and that really stuck with me. And even outside of his poetry, he’s a fascinating storyteller to watch, partly because he never seems deterred from telling the truth, regardless of how it might sound, which is incredible.

I believe I wrote this in my book, but Sheila represents everything good about poetry to me. You can virtually see her bleed through the page and she does so much with so little, really bringing you into space with her, it feels like a magic trick.

Edwin is one of the most haunting, poignant, and heart-grabbing writers & performers I’ve ever had the privilege to watch. The way they dance their words on and around the page is nothing short of theatre.

SuperB is who I want to be when I grow up. He is not only a fantastic writer, but has this certain type of magnetism that I find undeniable in how he performs. I love how his lines seem to cascade into one another, creating this freeflow experience of literally being wrapped up in his poems.

Joe Limer was one of the first people to ever encourage me to slam and I am eternally grateful to him for that. His level of commitment and intensity within each and every one of his poems was palpable to any who were lucky enough to witness him. Whenever I think of the term “throat punch,” I always think of Joe, because that was the kind of effect a lot of his poems had…yet, you couldn’t stop listening. It was beautiful to watch.

Marc Cid is a waterfall of a poet. I envy his ability to just be consumed by his work, to be immersed in a world and bring his audience along with him—because reading or listening to him is like going on a roller coaster, each and every time. I feel like every Marc Cid poem is an absolute epic and I’m always the first one in line to sign up.

Pastiche Queen is one of my favorite storytellers, period. Their background in Speech & Debate really shows in their ability to ground an argument through laying an intricate foundation and then pulling the rug out from under you before you know it. The way they control their audience like a marionette is unbelievable.

And lastly, Ravina (my CLI sister) is suuuuuch a heavy hitter. I love her intentionality and purpose she brings, both in and outside of poetry, as well as how she can so effortlessly switch from colorfully rich writing to stories that feel like a straight punch to the gut. I think I was most influenced by how meticulous she is in all aspects of her artistry—how she curates an entire world to step into as a reader or one privy to her live work.

Dunlap: What writers do you read today, whether poets, essayists, novelists or others? What draws you to their work?

Perfas: Let’s see, I mostly read poetry these days (as with days past), but currently, I’m in the midst of Hatred of Poetry by Ben Lerner, I Will Destroy You by Nick Flynn, and 101 Essays That Will Change The Way You Think by Brianna Wiest.

And outside of a recommendation from a good friend, I’m typically most drawn to collections or essays that seem to have an interesting take on poetry or the medium at large. Or at least tell a refreshing story. I get a little tired of reading the same type of thing, over and over, as I’m sure many do.

Dunlap: From your engagement in the local literary community, what are your honest thoughts and opinions about this community, good, bad or otherwise? It’s issues. It’s positives and anything else?

Perfas: Oof, tough question to tackle. I’ll try to parse this out as succinctly as I can, but put frankly: I feel like the literary community in LA feels very underground, pretty fractured, and a little “gatekeepery,” so to speak. Beyond the obvious divide between what I’ve heard coined as “page poets” (writers more concerned with publication status and notoriety amongst literary journals & magazines) and “stage poets” (poets more invested in developing their performance chops), I feel like the community can be a difficult one to navigate for folks newer to the craft and for folks who’d like to cut their teeth in multiple spaces around LA.

I’ve been working as a poet in this city for about seven years (give or take a pandemic), and I’m grateful at what I’ve been able to witness and achieve in that span of time. I’m eternally indebted to spaces like The Definitive Soapbox, Palms Up Academy, The Sunday Jump, and Da Poetry Lounge (amongst others) for giving me an outlet as a young and enthusiastic writer and showing me the strength and value of supportive community spaces.

But I can’t tell you how many lackluster “open mics” I’ve been to, especially ones that charge poets through the nose just for a chance to get some stage time (not unlike some of the predatory singer-songwriter spaces I’ve seen and heard about through artist friends in the field). Additionally, it seems to be such a social taboo to discuss monetary compensation for performing your work (especially as a poet), which I think needs to be more normalized. I believe poetry to be just as valuable a medium for entertainment as live music and stand-up comedy and think poets who’d like to professionalize their venture should look at it as such. One thing I’d like to see more from this community is more intentional crossover between some of the bigger hallmark institutions and transparency on how to make more of a living as a poet, regardless of your educational or performance background.

Honestly, there’s a lot more I could say, but that’s a pretty deep rabbit hole to go down, so I think I’ll just stick with that for now, haha.