BIBA Vlog 1: COOS is growing!

Happy April everyone!

The BIBA Blog is changing! From time to time, these entries will be Vlogs! Today's post is the FIRST BIBA Vlog, and we're looking forward to presenting many more in the future! Please feel free to respond to our questions for you in the comments here, in comments on YouTube, on our Facebook page, as Tweets, through e-mail, or however you feel the most comfortable! As COOS grows, we need all the help that we can get, and we're willing to entertain suggestions and any other form of help and support from everyone! Thanks so much, and hope you enjoy!

(We'd Like To Hear From YOU!)

What does Black History mean to you?

It is now February, a time when churches, schools, libraries, boys and girls clubs, community centers, YMCAs, theaters, and other groups and organizations across the United States and Canada take advantage of a nationally recognized observance of Black/African-American history. In the United States, this observance started in 1976, almost a decade AFTER the civil rights movement ended. Canada followed suit in 1995, and an observation of Black History began at the urging of a Ghanaian in the UK in 1987. February is close to Martin Luther King Jr. Day (observed on the third Monday of January, which is usually close to his birthday - January 15th), but February is quite far from the official observance of African-American Music Appreciation Month (originally titled Black Music Month by President Ford), which is in June (which includes Juneteenth celebrations).

While Black History Month has caused strong criticism, many benefits have been birthed from its creation, including the obvious increase in awareness of important Black figures. And while Martin Luther King Jr. may get more accolades than his friend Bayard Rustin (who arguably is just as important or more important to Black History), such phenomena occurs throughout history (see Arnold Schoenberg getting credited for a serial system over Josef Mattias Hauer, or Antonio Meucci inventing the telephone, NOT Bell). Personally, when February comes, I do not immediately associate it with Black History Month until I start seeing announcements about celebrations. Perhaps because Black History for me is who I am, what I live, what I'm creating every day. However, February is a time when I contemplate what this tragic and beautiful history means to me.

In a recent conversation, someone questioned me as to why knowing the country of origin of my African ancestors is important to me. The question, admittedly, gave me pause. I responded in this vain: it is most likely impossible for me to find out this information. Instead, I can read and study and research the stories of slavery and how it manifested itself in the United States. Slave masters took Africans from their country, forced them to ride a slave ship in some of the most inhumane conditions that history has known. The survivors were treated like animals; beautified for the purpose of making a high profit, then taken to an alien domicile where they were forced to work for no pay, little food, no care, no mercy. They were stripped of their original names, not given any last names, stripped of their education, stripped of their original language, stripped of their dignity. Is there another people who has had this happen to them, where - through it all - they came out with education, family, religion, new culture, a mastery of language, an incredible arts tradition, wealth, property, fame, and now the highest political office in the USA?

Black History, to me, means encouragement. It is an empowerment. It reminds me that SUCCESS is where I come from, despite how Blacks may be portrayed or stereotyped or ridiculed or profiled. Happy Black History Month!

(We'd Like to Hear from YOU!)

Heri za Kwanzaa!!

The past couple years have been both brutal and enlightening regarding the race situation in the United States (and ultimately the world). Outside of the discussions of police brutality, Rachel Dolezal, Ta-Nehisi Coates’s theses statements, hidden racism against President Obama, and more, there have also been poignant discussions about Zwarte Piet in the Netherlands, France’s identity reversal problems in North Africa, even Lupita Nyong’o’s Mexican-Kenyan identity. One of the first BIBA Blog Posts looked at Nokuthula Ngwenyama’s African-Jewish heritage through her father’s lineage! This reminds me of the quote that my friend and colleague Ashe Gordon references often: "with 40 million African-Americans in this country, there are 40 million ways of being Black." (Henry Louis Gates Jr.). Now re-envision that number to apply to all Black people in the world.

Growing up Black in the USA, I did not celebrate Kwanzaa. A woman at my church held a Kwanzaa celebration, but not every year. It petered out after a while, and I never questioned why because I never cared for Kwanzaa. Children in my schools would talk about Kwanzaa. “It’s ridiculous!” “It’s hilarious!” “It’s a made-up holiday.” (As if other holidays weren’t also made-up!) And in talking about Kwanzaa, there was also a tinge of talking about Africa and Africans. I witnessed a classmate with a very African name and two African parents also talk about Kwanzaa in this way, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I participated in the mocking of Kwanzaa just to fit in. How tragic a commentary that a holiday created to help Black people in the United States be a tighter community and remember their African heritage has become the subject of such ridicule, especially amongst Black people!

But this status of Kwanzaa is a result of systemic racism – a type of racism that is not overtly nefarious, but contributes to maintaining the “inferior” status of anything that is not “typical American”. A good example of a comment that embodies this systemic racism is “I want my country back”, which is usually uttered by an older Republican woman who wants to return to a time when gay people, immigrants, and Black people didn’t have that much of a voice or a presence in the American political fabric, and you could knock on your neighbor’s door to borrow sugar. It wasn’t until Castle of our Skins started that I began to intimate the true spirit of being Black, and the diverse ways to celebrate and own this identity. With that in mind, I am proud to include Kwanzaa in this celebration. I do not have a kinara (the candle holder). I do not know Kwanzaa songs. I have not memorized all of the Swahili terms. However, the 7 principals that come from African harvest traditions are available for me to reflect upon in the context of reflecting upon my Black identity. Setting aside the end of the year to do this every year is symbolic for me; a way for me to look back upon my identity that particular year, and to remind me to always celebrate my identity in the coming year.

Habari gani? Umoja – Unity!

(We'd Like to Hear from YOU!)

MassQ revelations

Many cultures and traditions practice some ritual of transformation, ranging from traditional "talks" to elaborate ceremonies into adulthood. For the multimedia and design artist Daniel Callahan, transformation occurs through his practice of MassQing, which draws elements from various African rituals and ceremonies. In Daniel's words, MassQing is a ritual application of paint to the face in order to reveal one's inner state of being. The alternative spelling of MassQ is to differentiate it from the concept of a mask. A mask is an object used to disguise, distort, protect, and/or conceal one's true identity. The purpose of a MassQ, however, is to reveal something about ourselves."

I recently had the honor of engaging in this process. To reveal my inner state of being, Daniel asked me a series of questions about my life, my art, my processes, my family, my relationships, my approaches to certain issues, and more. What is unique about Daniel's process, though, is that this does not in any way feel like an interview, but rather a talk with a close friend, partner, mentor, or family member. As we discussed various aspects of life, he sketched my face and plans for my MassQ. I only quickly glanced at his sketches, but what I saw showed a level of technical mastery that rivals the great artists of our time.

During the actual MassQing, the discussion continued. While I couldn't physically see my face being altered under Daniel's capable talents, I did notice myself thinking more about the topics we discussed, especially about political issues and the love I have for my complex and supportive family. Daniel made impromptu alterations to his design during the process, and paid meticulous attention to detail. His announcement of completion wasn't grandiose. Rather, it felt like an organic, subtle ending - a culmination of various factors simultaneously competing against each other and working with each other.

The time came to look at my transformed, MassQed face in the mirror. My immediate reaction was a sense of wonder at the talent of the artist. Then it occurred to me that the person in the mirror was me!

A sudden sense of pride came over me, as well as a unique type of strength that I knew existed, but perhaps never knew how to reveal. The MassQ that Daniel created has elements of multidirectionality     juxtaposed with a focal point, a multicolored palette that is focused and strategic, a design of lines and curves that bring out certain features of my face while creating an element of dance for the eyes, and a sense of partitioning that extends physical as well as personal/emotional features. Only a persona that is truly invested in his/her artistic practice can achieve such a combination of intuitive creation and flawless execution. 

After the MassQing session, Daniel explained to me that the removal of the MassQ is also a part of the ritual. I spent the rest of my day with the MassQ, which included interactions with workers, a commute, walking and driving by hoards of teenagers in line for a concert, and doing karaoke. People were not shy to either ask me about the MassQ or give massive compliments. It did give me a sense of power and confidence, but a different type of a confidence. It is the type of confidence that comes from not being afraid to be who you are, in spite of how the world may look at you. While certain groups of people may experience being "viewed differently" for various reasons on a day-to-day basis, the MassQ forces the bearer to come to terms with this differentiation-through-transformation, and encourages to keep this feeling after the ritual has ended. 

In March 2017, Castle of our Skins is planning on collaborating with Daniel Callahan on various events related to celebrating Black visual artists. Be on the lookout!!

(We'd Like to Hear from YOU!) 

A Community Choir's Work

The value of community ensembles is often overlooked. If you are reading this now, think of a community vocal group or music group or annual event that gave you some joy in your life. Now take that feeling in - the feeling of people coming together, sharing something in common, appreciating life and warmth and brotherhood. Additionally, if you are reading this and you belonged to a community group (or still do), congratulate yourself for the work that you do. This work is often not acknowledged or appreciated!

On the 15th of November, the HildaMan Chorale will be celebrating its 35th Anniversary - 35 years of providing music and culture and strength to the Wilmington, Deleware community. The event will include choral works as well as presentations of dance and instrumental works. The guest conductors include the influential conductor and music educator C. Lawler Rogers, music educator and church leader Shirley Brockenborough, and the prestigious conductor and composer-arranger Roland M. Carver. The dance presentation will be given by Melody Dale, member of D'elegance, the dance team of the Deleware State University Band.

Another guest artist will be Castle of our Skins's very own Director of Outreach and Community Engagement, Adrienne Baker. Originally from Wilmington, DE, Ms. Baker has studied music at Ithaca College and the Longy School of Music in Boston, MA. Now residing in the Boston Area, Ms. Baker's passion about accessibility in music has lead her to teach musicians of all levels, create and conduct workshops linking music with storytelling, and study music entrepreneurship with one of today's leading ensembles, the Imani Winds. For the program, Ms. Baker will be playing "Flute Set" by Adolphus Hailstork, and her own arrangement of the Gospel standard "Total Praise" (Richard Smallwood). You can hear some of Ms. Baker's recordings on her SoundCloud page.

According to one of their members, "the HildaMan Chorale is a talented volunteer vocal ensemble group founded by Leander Morris and Allen E. Clark in 1980, at the urging of Bebe Ross Coker. Ms. Coker felt the need for a community-based ensemble whose primary objective would be singing and preserving the spiritual. As a secondary objective, Morris and Clark selected performing music by local composers. The members of the chorale share a love of music and the joy of performing to the delight of the audience. Their repertoire ranges from spirituals, standard oratorio and classical literature, madrigals, jazz, and show tunes."

Brava to Adrienne Baker, and congratulations on 35 years of service, HildaMan Chorale! Here is to 35 more!

(We'd Like to Hear from YOU!)

CBMR Part Three: An Inspiring Charge

As the week of research drew to a close, books piling, lists growing, inspiration expanding and filling our souls, we were introduced to yet another section of the archive that filled us with joy. The archives have a large filing cabinet where, alphabetically, people and organizations and ensembles and other events/items related to Black music research have folders that contain writings, press clippings, official documents, and other related material. Seeing this large cabinet full of documents of events we wanted to attend, people we want to know, music we want to hear - it was extremely moving for many different reasons.

Firstly, I have often times - as a "classical musician" with brown skin - felt as though people like me are few and far between. I can never shake the feeling, even today - even after immersing myself and surrounding myself with other musicians, composers, and enthusiasts with brown skin - that I don't belong and that no one is paying attention. Now, whenever this feeling comes upon me, I can think of my time at CBMR. I can think of the hundreds of names I came across, knowing that this quantity of names does not represent everyone who has been involved in this work, and definitely does not represent those to come! I can think of the many events I read about in this file cabinet, spanning the gamut of renaissance and baroque music to contemporary and avant-garde expression. There are people documenting this community and its work, and those documenting it don't just exist at CBMR! It may be a simple feeling, but it is also an important feeling, and this message is one that Castle of our Skins wishes to extend to any other brown skinned "classical musician" who may also feel alone.

Secondly, while this cabinet was large and packed, I could not shake the feeling that this cabinet of events cannot represent even a 16th of the total events out there related to Black Music Research, with a focus on "classical music". What a thought! What have we missed? What other collections out there can help fill in our gaps? How can we extend the awareness of these collections to a broader public? I'm sure that this blog helps, social media helps, but can conservatory curriculum change to reflect a more complete picture of this world? I do remember discussing the lack of representation of composers like me within conservatory curricula with a former private composition teacher. This particular teacher was admittedly a bit naive, but well-meaning. The teacher told me simply "if the worth of the music is strong, its impact will be made." Perhaps he is right. This approach is similar to the quote about the arc of the moral universe bending towards justice. However, there must be actors working to bend this arc, and the week spent at CBMR made me feel like one.

Lastly, Castle of our Skins has the goal of serving as a type of model for others interested in starting an organization similar to ours, whether it focus on celebrating Black artistry through music or celebrating the artistry of another culture through painting. Our mission, while focused, is inclusive. It is more of a critique rather than a filter. Today, despite the overwhelming number of orchestral works by composers such as Gary Nash, Kevin Scott, Jeffrey Mumford, Jonathan Bailey Holland, Ed Bland, Margaret Bonds, Evan Williams, George Walker, Olly Wilson, Florence Price, Renee Baker, Tania León, Mary Watkins, and others, it's typical today to go to an orchestral concert for an entire season and not see one work programmed by a composer with brown skin. And while chamber music concerts provide a bit more of a complete cultural picture with regards to "classical music", there are numerous ensembles that are proud of the "diversity" in their program, and this only extends to women and composers from less-represented European nations. The concept of diversity in "classical music" today does not usually include composers with brown skin. In my professeional travels, I try to make it a point to ask my colleagues their general knowledge of Black composers outside of me. The answers are rather dismal. Some might say, "this is okay because composers should be associated more with nationality rather than race/skin color." I would be okay with this, but the problem then lies with the fact that Black Americans are generally not included in the fabric of "classical music". In discussions of American Composers (which usually focus on composers from the United States rather than all of the Americas), how often do you come across Julius Eastman or Blind Tom? While they are definitely American composers, the label is usually Black composer. Perhaps collections of Black music further exacerbate this separation. But then I ask myself, would this documentation exist within the fabric of "American Music" if it weren't separated? The state of Blacks in "classical music" is definitely a complicated catch-22, in which the general system of "classical music" includes unspoken expectations that conceal segregation. Castle of our Skins attempts to change the system. Hopefully a box for us will be created in some Black Music collection in the future.

Thanks, CBMR!

(This is the last part of the BIBA Blog's CBMR series! We'd Like to Hear From YOU!)

CBMR Part Two: Perfect Guidance

During our research week, Ashe and I (along with the other grant recipient Kirk Smith) received guidance from the amazingly well-informed staff. Particularly helpful to us were Melanie Zeck and Janet Harper. Both of them were always available to give us information, whether it was a name of a performer or composer that we should look into, books and scholars to explore as another avenue of inspiration, or cultural events throughout the great city of Chicago. One of these events was an exhibit of the paintings of Archibald Motley.

Just like President Barack Obama, Archibald J. Motley Jr. (1891 - 1981), was of a mixed racial makeup that included direct African and European backgrounds. He grew up with his family in a  quiet middle class neighborhood in Chicago that did not emphasize racial disparities. Consequently, throughout his life he never identified as with any racial label, but used his art to delve deeper into racial stereotypes and the politics of skin tone. Of these works, the portraits of mixed race women were of a particular focus for him.

During his time, labels such as "octoroon" or "quadroon" or "mulatto" were used in abundance, even though it was difficult to exactly determine these qualities simply by looking at skin. Motley's portraits embodied this message, along with other piercing critics regarding race in the United States of America. Ashe and I were so moved by this exhibition that we decided to base Castle of our Skins's next Call for Proposals on works of visual art by Black artists.

Other suggestions (just to mention a few out of many, including the Helen Walker-Hill books mentioned in the previous post) were the music of Akin Euba and Fred Onovwerosuoke. Both still living, these composers represent their native African countries very well in their clever, moving music. The suggestion of these composers has lead me to look into the music of other African composers, like Fela Sowande and Samuel Ekpe Akpabot and Halim El-Dabh. So much good music to discover!

On a final note, doing this research has uncovered to me how much improper documentation exists for Black composers. I often came across contradictory birth dates, contradictory or missing death dates, contradictory titles and instrumentations, and many pieces that have been lost. One such death date gave Ashe and me a bit of a pause. We came across some pieces by Dr. Lettie Beckon Alston that are perfect for the COOS Collective - the flexible ensemble that is a part of our organization. In our search for her contact information, we came across the news that she had passed away, yet online source after online source did not mention this (and they still do not). She passed away in 2014. Luckily for us and the world, she left behind some wonderful music.

(Stay tuned for part 3!, and We'd like to hear from YOU!)