PORT FOLIO September 25, 2001

couple of years, but ended up putting down roots there and serving as president of several institutions of higher learning.

Over the years, however, she's led anything but a stereotypical ivory-tower existence. Her travels have taken her on adventures many academics only dream about, and her newest work - a collection of essays and poems about the Arctic - reflects her explorer's spirit.

"I spent three weeks camping at the edge of the ice floes with the Inuit," she says. The experience was profound. At one point, she recalls, she was asked if she would take her turn playing a sacred drum. She refused, thinking it would be inappropriate for an outsider to do so and instead offered to tell a story. She was taken by how quietly everyone sat, in rapt attention, and the next morning, she says, there was a knock on her door.

"They wanted me to come tell stories to the children," she explains.

RUNTE'S FASCINATION with other cultures has brought her together, as well, with artists from Asia. Perhaps her most interesting project was a collaborative poem she wrote with two Japanese and one Korean poet. "We sat down and wrote it in 24 hours, working simultaneously in four languages." Runte later commissioned a

Canadian artist to illustrate each verse with a painting. The paintings, in turn, were projected on a screen during a reading, while a Japanese dance troupe performed a work that had been choreographed for the affair. The words, the images, the movement and the music "became one," she says.

As I listen to her describe this experience, it occurs to me that it says so much about Runte's outlook - and about the possibilities of poetry. In her view, art is not something static, not something that should be limited to the printed page or the museum gallery - and certainly not something that should be limited to the world of academia. True art, she seems to believe, is always overflowing preconceived boundaries and categories.

Just like good conversation. At one point, Runte steps out briefly to take a call, and as I look at my watch I see that an hour and 15 minutes have passed. So much for schedules.

When Runte returns, we talk for 10 more minutes, mainly about her upcoming reading. She plans to take a multimedia approach, using music and photography to complement her readings. As the conversation resumes, I begin to feel as if I've only scratched the surface. Her poetic sensibilities run so deep, and the experiences that have shaped them are so varied, that I fear I've only just begun to get a handle on them. But this, of course, is the way it is with most artists even - those who run universities. •