Pleasures of 2015
by
Kiini Ibura Salaam
One of the essential questions that artists have to answer for
themselves is how they will be present, how they will show up and use their
voices, in service of what sensation, expression, intention? In a 2015 interview,
National Book Award-winning poet Terrance Hayes states:
“I’m just interested
in being present, not in being representative of anything.”
Hayes’s statement holds the tension of public and
private--publicly people want to sort you, classify you, use you as a
mouthpiece, a representation, but as an artist, the only way to authentically
do your work is to be present to your self. It is something of a koan: How can
you truly be present in and with and for yourself if you are representing someone
or something else—even someone or something that looks and sounds exactly like
you?
Much of the art I enjoyed in 2015 pivoted on questions of
presence and representation.
Ava DuVernay’s
Selma
In
January, I started my art immersion for the year with the film Selma. I found it to be a riveting and
intense look at one slice of the Civil Rights movement. What I
appreciated most about it was the layers of the Civil Rights Movement that it
revealed. History has flattened somewhat the broad span of groups involved with
changing the laws and practices of segregation and voter discrimination. The students, the
voting rights activists, the local workers, the movement architects, the
superstars, the rabble rousers, the freedom riders—everyone joined the
resistance from a different angle, representing a different demographic and a
different motivation, and all these disparate strands came together to speak in
one voice.
The
other thing the film did was take an unflinching look at the indiscriminate
violence that was visited upon anyone pushing for an integrated, equal society.
The film demonstrated that the Civil Rights Movement wasn’t a sanitized event
that—with a few marches and songs—created a more just society. The willingness
of so many to be beaten, jailed, and killed was the thing that moved the needle
in awakening the consciousness of a nation.
John
Lewis’s March
Selma dovetailed quite nicely
with the graphic novel March by John
Lewis, Andrew Aydin, and Nate Powell. John
Lewis was a college student during the Civil Rights Movement and was active in
SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee). SNCC was already working in
Selma when Martin Luther King and his leadership from the SCLC (the Southern
Christian Leadership Conference) came to town to support the push for voters’
rights. The graphic novel’s striking illustrations and compelling storyline
tells the boots-on-the-ground story of one young man who was unflinchingly
committed to change in this nation.
Though
Selma
and March deal with times past, both were shockingly relevant to
our nation’s contemporary identity, especially in a year filled with protests,
murders, and marches.
Toshi
Reagon’s musical production of Octavia Butler’s The Parable of the Sower
The
evening after I saw Selma, I went to
The Public Theater to see Toshi Reagon’s musical production of Octavia Butler’s The Parable of the Sower.
One thing that was conspicuously missing from Selma was the music of the movement. With the exception of MLK
calling up Mahalia Jackson in the middle of the night to sing to him so that he
might hear the voice of God, DuVernay chose not to include song. There was, of
course, a soundtrack, but during the march when there was singing, DuVernay showed
the actors mouths moving but did not reveal the audio.
During
that time period, music was a major component part of protests, whether
anti-war or anti-discrimination. There has been a lot of study of protest music,
notably Soundtrack for a Revolution http://www.soundtrackforarevolutionfilm.com/Home.html, a wonderful documentary
about the music of the Civil Rights Movement and what it meant to the marchers,
how it kept them fearless and motivated. I suspect DuVernay did not use the
music in the film because we are saturated with the image of people marching
and singing. To a degree, I think the national narrative we’d like to believe
is that the marching and the singing made change. The song was spirit food—it
fed the marchers, steeled their strength and their resolved, helped them carry
on when they were tired and face death when they were scared, but it isn’t what
won the battle.
Toshi
Reagon was born into the tradition of activist folk music. Her mother, Bernice
Johnson Reagon, was deeply engaged in the Civil Rights Movement and other
activist movements. She was also a founder of the group Sweet Honey in the
Rock. Toshi was named for activist, filmmaker, and wife of Pete Seeger—Toshi
Seeger, so activism runs deep through her lineage. Early in 2015, Toshi did a
series of performances to workshop the songs she’s developing for an opera of Octavia
Butler’s The Parable of the Sower. Because I saw it on the same day as Selma, I couldn’t help but view it in
conversation with Selma and it was almost
like the musical answer to Selma. Performing music from the folk tradition and
the church tradition with nods to rock and spoken word, Toshi gathered a
wonderful group of performers to bring Butler’s words to life through song. I
can’t wait to see the opera. One of the songs—dealing with the company-sponsored
town—referenced how hard it is not to sell out when faced with the difficulties
of life. For me, much of Butler’s oeuvre deals with humans in untenable
situations and the unthinkable acts that we engage in when our backs are
against the wall. One of the songs for this evening had a chorus that went
something like: you think you can’t, but you will; you think you won’t, but you
will, you will, you will. It is so Butler.
Wild
Tales
This film had
nothing to do with representation—except, perhaps, the representation of other
types of stories on film, something Argentinian filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky
pleads for in this passionate,
philosophical crowd-funding video.
Wild
Tales features five madcap stories about the ravenous nature of
revenge—how it consumes the person seeking revenge and burns down much more
than the intended target. As stated in a review from The Guardian:
“Characters
surrender, gratefully, to the thrill of losing it and letting someone have it.”
The end result of the film is quite thrilling as you watch people push
themselves to the limit to take revenge on others—and suffer the consequences.
Rotten Tomatoes calls it “Wickedly
hilarious and delightfully deranged.” I wholeheartedly agree.
Amaryllis DeJesus
Moleski’s futuristic romps through time and space
Amaryllis
DeJesus Moleski
Amaryllis DeJesus
Moleski presented a series of drawings at MoCADA in the spring that features
big-bottomed, curvaceous women who seemed to be both futuristic and of the
moment. There was so much playfulness as she explored self-image, mythologies,
and the fantastic. I loved the exuberance, unexpectedness, and other-worldly
nature of the work. More images and thoughts from the artist here.
Cassandra
Wilson’s Tribute to Billie Holiday
For
her tribute concert to Billie Holiday, Cassandra Wilson
created an
immersive experience that built its own setting, aura, and sensation of
romance--transporting us into two hours of altered feelings that mirrored the fluttering
pleasures of being in love. Being vulnerable before others is immensely
challenging. Wilson immersed herself in emotion in front of a packed theater.
She was positively altered by the music, the musicians on the stage,
emotionally embodying that which she was singing. It’s the type of presence I
want to bring to my work.
When
we called her back for her encore, she strapped on her guitar and used it to
introduce sonic dissonance and squeals as accompaniment to her vocals on the
classic Strange Fruit. At the end, she went wild, continuing to improvise on it
while slamming it back down in the stand. She left the guitar squealing while
she exited the stage, leaving her band to reconcile the sound, to handle what
she had flung out into the world.
Basquiat’s
Notebooks at the Brooklyn Museum
You
can’t see Basquiat’s work without thinking about representation, fame and pain.
… I was discomfited at the spectacle of all of us, seeing his notebooks, his private
scribbling, each page in each notebook taken apart so as to spread our
consumption of him wider—especially as I suspect the consumption of him, the
contradictions therein, led to his overdose death. This experience was thought
provoking as it showed how Basquiat worked through his ideas and creative
impulses. I am often jealous when I see artists playing with their thoughts, creativity,
process, ideas, because I dream of returning to a state during which my
creativity roams without constraint. As someone who squeezes in the time to
work when I can, I am inspired when I see other artists existing in state of
creative immersion. The exhibition showed the depth and breadth of his creative
instincts, impulses and compulsions.
One Way Ticket: Jacob
Lawrence Exhibition at MoMA
One-Way Ticket was a fantastic exhibition centered around Jacob
Lawrence's seminal Great Migration
series. I also appreciate seeing art I learned about in art books in
real life. Seeing this series really made me reflect on my commitment to making
work. The series consists of a 60 very small panels made with humble materials.
The small scale and readily available materials, made me think that the artist
was dedicated to telling his story with whatever materials he had on hand. The
work itself was great to see in person, but what really elevated my enjoyment
of the exhibition was the expansiveness with which the exhibition was mounted.
There were additional rooms that stretched out to share literature, music,
video, and photographs of other artists from the time period. It was wonderful to
get a multidimensional view of the explosion of black arts at the time.
Fantastic
What
Happened, Ms. Simone?
I found this Netflix documentary about Nina Simone absolutely
riveting and layered. The level of presence she brought to performing was a major
theme of the documentary, but for me the theme that was most compelling was the
issue of representation—how issues of abuse, family, mental health, freedom,
the cost of life, the cost of fame, genius, racism, social unrest and escape
are explored through her body and her presence. I felt each of these issues
intensely and viscerally through the lens of Nina Simone’s tumultuous life. She
was a woman of the times in one sense—in the sense of a woman being expected to
marry and let her husband take care of things. At the same time, she was
timeless, a woman of another world completely, with her vision, her talent, and
her fierceness. An amazing portrait of both a woman and a time; a society and a
situation.
Michelle
Dorrance’s The Blues Project
I was
thrilled to see Michelle Dorrance’s
Blues Project
at Lincoln Center this summer. It was such a breath of fresh air on so many
levels. Throughout the concert, it was clear that something different was
happening—in addition to the fact that it featured tap choreography that was
more like what you see in modern dance, than Broadway razzmatazz, there were
female hoofers going in hard with the foot stomps and thumps as I’ve only seen
men do. Dorrance also included in her dance company dances of different sizes,
heights, and shapes. Throughout the show, it was clear that this was a
passionate groups of dancers committed to a rare artform. Later in the year,
Dorrance was awarded a MacArthur fellowship for her work. Her interview is here and you can see her
dance here. Like her dancers,
Dorrance is a delight and a marvel to watch. As Gia Kourlas of The
New York Times states Dorrance’s “sunny charisma and lanky body work in
mesmerizing combination as she glides across the floor or hits it with fury.
(Her coordination and speed are incredible.)" The New York Times does not exagerate,
Clementine Wamariya’s essay
Everything Is Yours, Everything Is Not Yours
In
a multi-part essay, called Everything Is Yours, Everything Is Not
Yours,
Rwandan Clemantine Wamariya writes about her life as a refugee following the
Rwanda massacre. in addition to the harrowing details of surviving while the
world is crumbling around you, Wamariya has a piercing analysis of the world
and a wit that makes you want to keep reading and reading.
Grace Jones at the AfroPunk
Music Festival
The other thing that
makes me jealous of artists is when I see an artist being completely free. At 67
years old, Grace Jones is a riot of freedom, self-possession, outrageousness,
and ferocity. Changing her robe and headgear between every song, Jones pranced
her way through a full set at the 2015 Afropunk music festival. We were
thrilled, we were enchanted, and we were inspired, as she:
Wishing you all a fierce 2016 full of presence, passion, and
bold artistry.
Be well. Be love[d].
Kiini Ibura Salaam
Kiini Ibura Salaam is a writer and painter from New Orleans, LA. Her
work is rooted in eroticism, speculative events and worlds, and women's
perspectives. Her fiction has been published in a number of
anthologies, including
Dark Matter, Mojo: Conjure Stories, and
Dark Eros. Her essays have been published in
Essence, Ms., and
Colonize This. She is the author of the
KIS.list, an e-column that explores the writing life. Her first collection of short stories,
Ancient, Ancient, was published by Aqueduct Press in May 2012 and was a co-winner of the James Tiptree Jr. Award. She lives in Brooklyn.
I read from my forthcoming novel, "The Waterdancer's World," but otherwise did not participate in programming. This was the first year of all the WisCons I've attended, in which I didn't appear on a panel. I wasn't sure how I would feel about it, but it feels, in retrospect, like a brilliant decision to have made. I'm going to listen, reflect, & ask questions this year, I told myself. I in fact still did a lot of talking this year (especially on Friday, for some reason, as a few people who might be reading this might readily attest to), but looking back over the weekend, I think I did spend more time than I usually do listening with my full attention to what other people had to say. I half-think this had to do with my decision not to sit on any panels (thus unconsciously shifting my orientation), & also suspect it might have to do with the fact that last year I was depressed, which meant that my energy level was way down & my interest in the rest of the world sadly reduced. This year I was hungry for news of what others had been thinking & doing. I was also pretty lucky in my choice of programming to attend. (I made one wrong choice, which is actually not so bad.) & I sadly had to miss the panel on Octavia Butler's work (which I've heard was dynamite), because it coincided with one of the three Aqueduct Press authors' readings. I missed another panel I wanted to attend because I was in the middle of a conversation when it started and had gotten caught up in another when it was about two-thirds through. It can be a tough call, choosing between conversation & a panel one wants to attend, but the fact is, for me, those conversations are part of what makes WisCon so vital for me. They're the reason I always go home from WisCon changed. At 65, I've never been more aware of how important it is to me to feel myself still learning & changing. I may not have the energy & stamina I once had, but my capacity for engagement is, I hope, as strong as it's ever been.
