Babette “Babs” Puzey: Finding Voice and Vision
On a sweltering midmorning in Mercer Park, Baldwinsville, the kind of August day where the air seems to hum with heat, Babette “Babs” Puzey sat across a weathered picnic table beneath the shade of a broad, forgiving tree. The Seneca River moved steadily behind her, a quiet counterpoint to the restless activity nearby Canada geese wandering the grass, leaving their familiar messes in their wake. It was here, in this unassuming setting, that Puzey spoke candidly about a life shaped by words, music, and the persistent pull of creativity.
Puzey, a singer-songwriter, writer, and poet rooted in Central New York, is not someone who rushes to define herself by a single discipline. Instead, she exists in the intersections between lyric and melody, between observation and expression, between intention and the elusive act of making time to create. “I really want to spend more time writing,” she said early in the conversation, her tone both reflective and lightly self-critical. “I love to put words together.” It is a simple statement, but one that carries the weight of years. For Puzey, writing has never been about ambition or recognition. It has been something more essential, something closer to survival.
Puzey’s relationship with writing began in her youth, during a period she describes with restraint but unmistakable significance. “When I was in high school, I would write poetry all the time,” she said. “I went through some stuff as a kid, and putting words together was good therapy.” Like many artists, she found that language could hold what conversation could not. Poetry became both refuge and release a private space where emotion could take shape without judgment. Her academic choices reflected this early affinity. In high school, she immersed herself in English and music, taking multiple English courses during her senior year and gravitating toward anything that allowed her to explore expression more deeply. “English and Music was really all I wanted to learn,” she said. That dual focus words and sound would become a defining feature of her creative life.
Despite her lifelong connection to writing, Puzey is candid about the challenges she faces in maintaining consistent creative practice. “It’s a matter of self-discipline and actually spending time on your own creativity,” she admitted. “Which is where I fall short.” But her reflection goes deeper than simple discipline. For Puzey, the issue is not just about willpower, it’s about permission. “It’s not necessarily always self-discipline as it is allowing myself the time, and finding the time,” she said. “I’m not very good with time management.” This tension between the desire to create and the reality of daily life is one that resonates with many artists, particularly those whose creative pursuits exist alongside other responsibilities. Puzey does not present a solution; instead, she offers an honest acknowledgment of the struggle. Still, her creative output persists. In collaboration with musician Todd Brown, she has contributed lyrics to songs, embracing a partnership where roles are naturally divided. “I’m more of the word person and Todd is more the music person,” she explained. Their collaboration highlights a key aspect of Puzey’s artistic identity: she is not driven by the need to control every element, but rather by a willingness to contribute to where her strengths lie.
When asked about inspiration, Puzey does not cite books, theories, or structured practices though she acknowledges the value of reading. Instead, her creative spark is rooted in the physical world. “My inspiration comes from being out in nature,” she said. “Sunsets, sunrises, waterfalls, people and amazing places.”
It is a sensibility that feels almost instinctive. For Puzey, creativity is not something that must be chased; it is something that emerges when she is present, when she allows herself to observe and absorb. “I find my inspiration sitting by water or under a tree,” she added, gesturing subtly to the setting around her. In that moment, the connection between artist and environment was unmistakable. The river behind her, the shade above, the quiet movement of the park all seemed to reinforce her words.
Puzey’s creative path was not shaped in isolation. Formal education and external validation played important roles, particularly during a period when she returned to structured learning. “I took some online classes a few years ago Composition 1, 2, and 3,” she said. “My teacher loved my work, and that gave me the inspiration to write more.” Encouragement, especially from mentors or instructors, can be a turning point for many artists. For Puzey, it was a reminder that her voice had value that her words could resonate beyond her own experience. This renewed confidence led her into freelance writing, where she contributed to an online magazine focused on tourism and the Central New York music scene. Through this work, she not only honed her skills but also built connections within the local creative community. “It allowed me to get connected with many folks in the Syracuse area,” she said. These connections, though often informal, form the backbone of regional arts scenes networks of mutual support, shared spaces, and recurring faces.
Puzey’s story is also one of place of growing up and moving within Central New York, and of the ways those environments influenced her development. Her early years were spent in Palermo before her family relocated to North Syracuse and later Liverpool. Eventually, her mother purchased a home in Bridgeport, where Puzey attended Cicero High School. It was there that her musical identity began to take shape. “I joined chorus, all-state, all-county,” she recalled. “I took music appreciation and music theory.” But beyond the classes and ensembles, it was a teacher who made a lasting impact. “I was fortunate to have an amazing choral director, Fred Haag,” she said. “He really worked with me… He helped me to open up.” At the time, Puzey described herself as an introvert, someone who did not naturally seek the spotlight. Haag’s mentorship challenged that tendency, encouraging her to step forward and trust her abilities.
One pivotal moment came when he invited her to join an adult church chorus a significant leap for a high school student. “He said, ‘I would like you to join the adult chorus. I really need your voice,’” she recalled. The experience proved transformative. Not only did it expand her musical opportunities, but it also introduced her to new relationships and responsibilities, including teaching a younger choir alongside a fellow singer. “It gave me a chance to be involved in music, and I was all over it,” she said. Eventually, she began performing solos, an achievement that once seemed out of reach. “It was Fred Haag who gave me a little bit of self-confidence to sing,” she said. “He helped me to find my voice.”
While music and writing form the core of Puzey’s artistic identity, photography has long been another important outlet. Her introduction came early, through a simple but meaningful gift. “Do you remember the old Kodak Instamatic?” she asked with a smile. “My mom gave me one for Christmas one year. I just loved taking pictures.” By the age of 13, she was developing black-and-white photographs in a school darkroom, learning the technical and artistic aspects of the medium. One assignment in particular left a lasting impression. Tasked with photographing a dog, she captured an image that deeply resonated with the animal’s owners. “They loved it so much,” she said. “I framed it for them, and they put it on their wall. I was 13, and this meant the world to me.” It was a moment of recognition, a realization that her perspective, her way of seeing, could hold meaning for others. Though she acknowledges the limitations of her current equipment, Puzey remains committed to the craft. “I work with what I have,” she said. “I can’t afford all the fancy equipment, but I can still produce some amazing photographs.”
What emerges from Puzey’s story is not a narrative of arrival, but one of continuation. She does not present herself as someone who has fully realized her creative ambitions. Instead, she exists in a state of constantly negotiating time, inspiration, and opportunity. Her honesty about these challenges is perhaps what makes her story most compelling. She does not romanticize the creative life. She acknowledges its difficulties, its inconsistencies, and its demands.
And yet, she continues. She writes when she can. She collaborates. She observes. She creates.