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Review: Nommo: A Literary Legacy of Black Chicago (1967-1987) ~ An Anthology of the OBAC Writers’ Workshop

by The AOMuse

Nommo: A Literary Legacy of Black Chicago (1967-1987) ~ An Anthology of the OBAC Writers' Workshop Nommo: A Literary Legacy of Black Chicago (1967-1987) ~ An Anthology of the OBAC Writers’ Workshop by Carole A. Parks
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

“A Black aesthetic is based upon the conviction that Black people share a complex of perceptions that do not have the same meaning for other people. While it is true that all humans, have certain basic physiological and emotional traits, socio-historical experience divides us into ethnic groups whose members have more in common with each other than with members of other groups, even though there may be overlapping. We all belong to ethnic groups. Ethnicity is inescapable. There is no such thing as a “universal” person.” ~ from “Some Thoughts on The Black Aesthetic” by Eugenia Collier

While a flourishing hippie subculture was feasting upon the remnants of the literary and social counterculture once cultivated by the pioneers of the Beat Generation, Black literature was experiencing yet another cultural quickening in the form of the Black Arts Movement. A broad contingent of artists, critics, authors and intellects who eschewed the duplicity of Black authorship past which found our most nimble writers contorting themselves and their uniquely Black experience into a form more palatable for a mainstream white aesthetic now carved out independent publications, art houses, theaters and workshops. The call for Black Power, rising political resentment and a renewed embrace of the ideals of social separatism saw the revival of a “do for self” ethic sweep through the Black community. The old Civil Rights era alliances of the previous decade had shriveled and died upon the vine. Black people were shifted once again to membership along the social fringe.

Those arising during the Black Arts period began to wield this exclusion as an incentive for the development of an insular artistry deeply rooted in the language, style and existence of Black people which came to be defined as the “Black aesthetic”. A diminished appreciation for historical nuance often finds a more comprehensive story about the movement left untold. Much like the locational specificity of the Harlem Renaissance overshadows discussion about Black authorship outside of Harlem or Negritude in the Black Francophone diaspora, it is most often the case that the Black Arts Movement as a mystical literary milestone eclipses deeper scrutiny of any cluster of regional activity which contributed to its occurrence. The burden of fault rests with both poor scholarship and a lack of prominent documentation on how the movement transformed the creative landscape for Black artists throughout the country. Nommo: A Literary Legacy of Black Chicago is a history which serves to both amend and extend that record.

Nommo documents the creative and critical literary content generated by members of the Chicago axis of the Black Arts Movement operating through the Organization of Black American Culture (OBAC) over the course of 20 years at the time the book was published. Throughout their 30 year tenure, OBAC organized three artist workshops consisting of Visual Arts, Theater and Writing which provided spaces for peer review and mentoring. The Visual Arts Workshop was able to complete a longstanding mural known as the Wall of Respect at 43rd and Langley. The Theater Workshop found itself in a prodigious era as Chicago’s urban magnetism assembled the creative synergy which culminated in the Kuumba Theater, Southside Community Art Center and Afro-Arts Theater. The Writer’s Workshop saw a diversity of authors from varying levels of professional notoriety move through the nourishing space to bolster one another towards more keen insights and greater acclaim.

Nommo captures the essence of this extraordinary collective through writings which appeared in both the individual works of featured artists along with the OBAC writing journal also titled Nommo. The writing frequently manages to be both profound and overwhelming when one attempts to read the text without pause. Occasionally it veers off in directions which appear to be ideologically enigmatic such as Carolyn M. Rodgers’ “Black Poetry-Where It’s At” which found me pondering to myself if these were not merely a group of reckless young adults who had become fascinated with the sound of their own voice. She uses the space of her commentary to elaborate on the various forms and directions being created, evolved and engaged by Black poets in her generation. It is not until you reach the section entitled “Remembering Hoyt W. Fuller” that you can reflect deeply upon the measure and meaning of advancing the Black aesthetic. Rodgers’ determination to characterize the nuances of Black poetry as they existed then was rooted in a desire to stretch the boundaries of acceptable literary discourse where Black people were taught to circumscribe portions of their language and being in order to fit into the classical (read: white) construct being studied in academia. She refused.

While it is left to one’s imagination to consider how the plays were interpreted on stage, the works of members from the Theater Workshop are exhibited including “Masque Etude” with its rich symbolism and spartan, poetic dialogue or the reflective examination of an interracial relationship of convenience from “Mr. Gooden’s House”. The poetry, prose and essay material assembled here searches out these tiny kernels of the Black experience and seeks to magnify their importance that we might appreciate, acknowledge and analyze them as art. The Black aesthetic as understood by Hoyt W. Fuller was not simply amplifying the widely touted sentiment that “Black is beautiful”, but building upon that notion further for if we value things of beauty then let the elements of Blackness be appraised the highest amongst Black people.

In closing with their reflections upon the life and legacy of Hoyt W. Fuller, the daring stance taken by OBAC is shown to be helmed by a fearless defender of Blackness. Fuller towers above this anthology existing still as the guiding light behind its formation. Throughout the tiny vignettes of his life, I found myself hungering to know and understand even more than these selections were able to express in the space of such brevity. Nommo is a text worthy of continuous examination. While no organization finds themselves advancing the Black aesthetic with such a rigorous and thorough program as OBAC did in their time, it remains important to our children that we link together the body of material already extant in order that they might learn early in life what is beautiful, valuable, worthy and artful about the Blackness they inherit. It ain’t just a pigment. It is a legacy.

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In Radiant Praise Of The Sweet Goddess Project

by The AOMuse

Destination: Experimental Station.  Several years ago while residing in my Hyde Park apartment on 48th and Drexel, I struck upon the idea of purchasing a bike for some light travel through the neighborhood during the warmer months.

When evaluating places to obtain a ride, Blackstone Bicycle Works arose as the nearest available option. I had first learned of Blackstone while doing community resource mapping with City Year, but the unusual hours they kept prevented me from paying a visit to the shop.  Upon finally deciding to drop in, I set out on the bus with the address transcribed in a notebook.  After 5 cycles spent pacing the 2 blocks between 61st and 63rd Street, I surmised that this trip and my phone calls would prove fruitless for the day.

A balmy Sunday evening last November found me repeating the same curious process I had done so many years earlier.  I never did find the Experimental Station after my first failed attempt.  Were it not for another couple hustling their way across the street from a parked car, I might have gone away puzzled on this occasion too.  Seeking not to arouse suspicion, I followed them around the corner toward the inconspicuous entrance.  Once inside, we were welcomed to the Sweet Goddess Project by a gracious hostess and a flurry of literature as I toted my traveling music bag in preparation for dancing at the Shrine later that evening.

The exposed red brick wall and photo array to the rear of the performance floor foreshadowed the experience to come.  A reminder of the gritty origins of underground dance born of any shelter offering open floor space and running electricity.  Yellow and blue lighting framed the stage on either side hearkening back to the optics that live in night clubs and on dance floors where the music never seems to be loud enough.  The DJ teased out with a mesh of electronic and world sounds at one point folding in a kalimba leading us closer to an audio crescendo, but drawing back before it culminated any movement.

My eyes darted between a Moleskine notebook and the audience.  Each time I threw a glance about the room I found another familiar face from our exuberant community of dance living and breathing beneath the Chicago night.  There was an immediate expansion of joy within my heart as we came together to partake of this expression.  It was a feeling of kinship that existed here amongst us loving the music, embracing that sound and inhabiting a lifestyle.  Enter Meida with her ever so gentle reminder, request and demand to silence all cell phones or other noisemaking devices.

Beyond this point in the performance, I must admit that I can not be entirely faithful to the journalistic intent.  Writing notes about this show became increasingly difficult as I found myself so deeply engaged in the music, movement and layered visual experience that I was compelled to bang my drum at quiet and loud intervals throughout the show.  My writing hand hushed so promptly that I found only time to jot down a series of terms hoping they might assist me later in transcribing verbally what I had experienced emotionally.

Playful.  Brash.  Synchronized.  Spontaneous.  Reminiscent.  Nostalgic.  Jazzy.  Electric.  Soulful.  Soft.  Sinew.  Sticky.  You may assemble those words in whatever order offers you the greatest measure of meaning and utility.

The Project made brilliant use of a series of video interviews that were done with groups of women regarding their experiences in the house music scene in order to punctuate the transition from one performance to another.  These interviews covered first virgin steps into the party and onto the dance floor, carving spaces in party promotion and DJ’ing and extending the engagement of House music far beyond mere entertainment or social diversion into the arena of a philosophical construct for how we move through through the world as seen and felt vividly through women’s eyes.

I am a zealot, enthusiast, devotee and acolyte for the work of the Sweet Goddess Project and Honey Pot Performance, but you shouldn’t take my word for it.  You should investigate and discover their process for yourself.  On February 3rd and 4th, the collective will be performing at Northwestern University’s Marjorie Ward Marshall Dance Center in the Ballroom Theater.  For more information on how you can partake in this work, visit the Honey Pot Performance blog or their invite on Facebook.
 


Late Fall Musings on Aniba Hotep & the Sol Collective

by The AOMuse

“Give that baby water / And bath her in the garden of the sun / Give that baby water / Cause water will go back to where it is from / Freedom” ~ Give That Baby Water by Aniba Hotep & the Sol Collective

In April of 2010, I developed a serious audiophile obsession after being within earshot of a group known as Aniba Hotep & the Sol Collective.  I later discovered they had released an album entitled “Sol of a Goddess” which I knew was a must have for my audio collection.  While they had a website posted, the Paypal link on the site wasn’t active for processing payment.  Neither deterred nor defeated, I reached out to some band members I found to be part of my social network.  I was not in the least disappointed for my effort.  The album was a warm, lush concoction of live instrumentation and layered vocal arrangements which fulfilled long forgotten musical yearnings and sauntered gently through my ears.  It was indeed and in fact a delicious assemblage of sound.  I later went on to purchase their follow up EP “The SOLution” which continued the tradition of beautiful music established in the orchestration of this first album.

 Aniba Hotep & the Sol Collective

With all of the enjoyment I had experienced from recorded material, I had not yet seen them play a live show despite numerous opportunities having arisen.  On October 22nd, I decided to rectify that as I sat in Wicker Park at Jerry’s sipping on one too many bottles of a generous selection of hard ciders: Ase Pear, Hard Julian and Original Sin.  This might not have been such a terrible thing were it not for the fact that I had spent much of the day in my role at the Healthy Food Hub as the Dancing Cashier.  By the time I arrived at the show, I was acutely exhausted.  Never afraid to push the envelope in writing, dance or life, I took the time to wet my face and kept busy etching at my notebook until the show started so that drowsiness would not overtake me.

I took down a few observations about the venue which seemed a slight small to me.  We in the artistic world classify these spaces as cozy when drawing your attention away from the fact that you should be careful not to bump the person to your rear when exiting to the restroom.  I didn’t make any bones about that as it would certainly make for a more intimate concert experience.  I noted the eclectic, artful decor; the warm, ambient lighting.  Jerry’s had done well to set the mood for those whose sojourn here found them on date night.

While I sat nursing the first cider, one of the hosts came to ask me if I might be able to change my seat in order to accommodate two sisters wanting to be seated together.  This shifted me from the long side of the table to the seat on the end which to my delight turned out to be center floor and the most optimum viewing angle for the main event.  The show set in motion just after 10:30 pm when “The Big Payback” sounded the triumphant onset of a playful jam session amongst the members of the Sol Collective.  The crowd warmed up while fingers snapped and shouts of musical approval were bandied about generously.

The background vocalists made their way to the stage first in fabulously fitted blue pantsuits.  Aniba came forward shortly thereafter in what appeared to be a black sash, blue halter and black pants though I Iater came to wonder if the color of the pants might not have been a deception of lighting.  The band brought the change up and suddenly we were engulfed in a Sol Collective rendition of The Mary Jane Girls’ “All Night Long” which found the musicians playing a little too loudly against the vocals, but still extending forward the playfulness of the opening jam session.  Suddenly a question struck me as I examined each aspect of the stage, “Are they barefoot?”  I was tickled in the deepest part of my belly at that realization, the intimacy of this minor detail only serving to enchant me further.  After I watched the EPK a few more times, I realized that they play most of their dates in a similarly Earth-grounded manner.  As a dancer who delights in any excuse for going barefoot, I honor that.

The Band

The selection that followed listed in my notes only as “Sweet Talker” found the vocals much tighter with some intriguing drum transitions.  By the time they had set themselves upon “Who’s Gonna Save My Soul Now?” and “Waiting On You”, I was thoroughly delighted by their choice of complex vocal arrangements in both cover songs and original material.  Aniba proved unafraid to play staccato over the track or add new flavor to well established songs using jazz and gospel technique claiming the voice as its own magnificent instrument.

“Sweet Thing” was remixed with all of the buttery soft and soulful nostalgia that Chaka’s original invoked as she vocally looped the opening line “I will love you anyway”. The Sol Collective’s rendition of “It’s Love” found all of these abilities colliding inside of a single song.  Aniba, Neri and Caress’ choral interplay and the band’s skillful smooth transition indicative of classic jam session musicianship showed in their skill for claiming a contemporary cut with a still strong resonance.  Aniba again played with the levels in her voice in similar character to Jill’s own antics on the original song until the band threw us a head spin by playing the break from “Da Butt” before changing back to the closing harmonies from “It’s Love” to end the first set.

The group went on to play 3 more sets that evening.  This first set was described as “Uptempo”.  Set number two was “Soft Soul’.  Set number three was “Jazz”.  Set number four was described simply as “Soul”.  The highlight of the second set was a gem that seems to absent from both of their albums which I think was called “Landmark” during which Aniba recounted living in Virginia for many years and coming to Chicago to start a new life.  This combination of lyrics and words that I drew down for my notes entailed the following “Don’t stay where you have already left / I don’t want to be your landmark / Runaway / Say everything you’ve ever wanted to say to me / Cause I don’t know when I’ll be coming back to town”.  This year marks her 34th year on the planet.  While I was playing the “Sol of a Goddess” album at a recent Healthy Food Hub Market Day, Dr. Jifunza’s ears perked up and asked “Who is that? Aretha?”  “No Dr. J.  That’s Aniba Hotep & the Sol Collective.”  I think that mistake on the part of a listener from a generation steeped in soul should portend all you need to know about how deeply the Sol Collective has mined the soul tradition of the past while being attentive to the evolution of the future landscape of soul music.  Check out their EPK below and when you are done, visit their fan page on Facebook so that you won’t have any excuse for not being in the front row of their next show.  Your so(u)l will undoubtedly be replenished.
 


NaPoWriMo 1:30 ~ Echoes of an Industrial Wind

by The AOMuse

oh westward facing nautilus
you post industrial shell
heir to an illegitimate body politic
chicago fathered
like a rolling stone
where shadows
go home
to die
fields that found green
too weighty a task to maintain
appear to grow brown
all
year
round
i wander
between warehouse walls
wooden plankboards
come here to hang about
with one another
upon the face of windows
riddled in disrepair
writing enigma
behind their backside
what wonders await us
in the dark corridor
of an abandoned
production floor
but no one is heading
to the west really
we are all just transients
passing through
to our next destination
sidewalks fracture
in impressionistic patterns
this tectonic shifting
of Earth
owns an artistic sensibility
all its own
pale red brick rubrics
offer this pitiful
visual assessment
of how we measure
"redevelopment"
you are a neighborhood
diagnosed schizophrenic
how else would it be
that your simple floral oasis
owns the dividing line
between the two halves
of your mind
east garfield here
west garfield there
if international history
is any predictor
of outcomes
dividing land masses
typically precedes a war
and i ain’t willing
to let this home i hate
be your economic battleground
for it still smells
of presbyterian
and mama’s angel birth
3832 w. washington
still looks like the biggest house
on the block
because it is our own
and garfield park
is still the best thing
amongst bad things
that ever came
of a wretched city
where politicians
make monarchies
the most expedient
form of governance

but the serfs
are searching
and soon come
the kings
will be swept away
in this departing
industrial wind.


True Love For The Culture Album Release Party

by The AOMuse


Listen To The True Love For The Culture Compilation Here

What do you create when you combine one of the loves of my brief Life, Tigi Nii, with her own undying devotion and love for the people particularly the young people? You create a brief, yet potent compilation of artists who have come together out of their mutual love, respect, and admiration for the youth to give voice to messages that were felt might enrich their souls and stimulate their minds.

The plan for the project is that it will be distributed both locally and nationally directly to youth and organizations that work with youth in a mission to spread the message in the music. The website listed above features not only each of the tracks included on the compilation, but also the method of contacting Tigi in order to obtain FREE copies of the compilation CD and its associated chapbook for your organization. The chapbook includes the lyrics to these magnificent compositions as well as bios of the feature artists and a closing message from each artist to the youth.

On Saturday, August 25th, the release party will be held at Mercury CafĂ© located at 1505 W. Chicago Ave. at 7:30 pm. The project will feature Zenif Be.P, Camil Williams, Tekhen, Karega Ani, Veronica Bohanan, and e.nina.jay. In addition to the poets and MC’s already featured on the project, the release party will feature the highly talented all female live band, Molly Sue Africa. Now I was only blessed to have a single rehearsal date with these sisters, but the way they pulled together the improvisation of my backing track for this session was nothing short of marvelous.

For those who have never heard me reference myself as such, I am the artist featuring as Tekhen on the track with Karega Ani, a brilliant artist out of

Detroit and if I may make a modest claim, the track is something extraordinary. If you are in the

Chicago
area, check in to this event for some dynamic performances and find out how you can assist with sending this injection of love out to the heart of youth where it is sorely needed.

Peace!

Mikey ~ Tekhen ~ The AOMuse


Dance: The Cure For What Ails You

by The AOMuse

Summertime in Chicago is known for many things. Increased traffic as folks who stowed their convertibles for a harsh winter now bring them back to compete for lanes on Lake Shore Drive. The unusual notion that you are simultaneously delighted and disgusted at the daily beach report which outlays the level of bacteria that is present in Lake Michigan and determines the beach going behavior of a careful few. Never to be ignored, forgotten, or disparaged are the profuse number of neighborhood festivals held throughout Chicagoland.

If you have been aware enough to attend any of those festivals that are held in Chicago’s downtown area, you may have come across an ingenious little event known to we Chicago natives as the Summer Dance. A festival brought about to celebrate low cost Sangrias, live bands from every musical genre, and the joy of people dancing on a hardwood dance floor with just enough alcohol in the blood to prevent you from talking yourself out of a good time.

I was once quoted as saying that we could cause a movement of peace across the planet if we promoted this concept worldwide. Pretentious attitudes tend to melt away when a crowd of onlookers are worked into a rhythmic frenzy during a jam session by the Chicago Afrobeat Project, Funkadesi, or Kokolo. There is also no shortage of opportunities to learn to move with other styles to which you are not yet accustomed. If you are a brave soul, come out to Grant Park, throw back one of those $5 Sangrias and find your way to the dance floor. You may find kindred soul in rhythm such as myself. As the old mystic aphorism goes, it is only when you lose yourself (in the rhythm, some forget that part) that you will find yourself again.

I must graciously thank Ms. Ashera and Ms. Elise for attending this year’s festivities with me. They were very capable of handling themselves on the floor since I occasionally become quite intense. I must also offer my thanks to that sister with the short cropped cut who rocked a tank top and a full length blue jean skirt whose Ebon complexion evoked all sorts of emotions in me beyond the dance floor. I am quite sorry the excitement caused me to miss your name. I experienced a physical rapport with you in that moment that was unable to be matched for the remainder of the evening. Respect!


shala esquire’s Seven Spoon

by The AOMuse

The brother who writes this piece is pure comedy. Irreverent and upbeat. Keen observations from the young, vibrant Seven Spoon always confined to 40 words or less, but never without invoking the deep thought and/or raucous laughter. The publishing of such has been running in email syndication for 2 to 3 years in between the Shala’s work with the hip hop group Qualo. Expect that I will treat you to other such episodes of Ms. Spoon that I find to be well woven into a future commentary. I simply hoped to introduce you in this first instance to the unequivocal Spoon as well as offer you a link to the artist’s website where you can subscribe to his work and order t-shirts with your favorite Spoon-isms inscribed upon them. Hope you have as much fun with this one as I did. Remember this insight the next time you are talking to someone that you think should have been swallowed.
 
More Seven Spoon Can Be Seen Here

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