Sunday, October 02, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Reviving the Blog
So it's been a minute since I've blogged on this site. I've missed it, so I'm back. A lot has been going on since my last post in 2010. SOTRU is doing well, on over 200 stations. The shows keep getting stronger. Summer in Sanctuary opened off-broadway in March of 2011 and will be returning to NYC in November as a part of the "All for One Festival". In February of 2012, we will open at the New Jersey Rep. I'm happy with the progress of the show. More updates later, but since I haven't added anything substancial to this site in a while I thought I'd post some new video blogs I've been working on.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
We Count Too!
Rarely will I engage in the back and forth of politics on this blog. Actually, I’ve been so busy with my work on State of the Re:Union, that I haven’t had time to update this blog at all. Please forgive me, as the truth of the matter is that blog posts on this site will remain limited until September or so, when work lets up a little bit. I’m not going to whine and complain about the job because I asked for it and I love it. But it does have me working 12 hour days, six to seven days a week—not a lot of time to do any extra writing.
This post though, is somewhat a response to Tavis Smiley’s “We Count Summit.” For the record, I didn’t watch. I’ve watched Tavis’ State of the Black Union, and while I respect his idea, I didn’t get much more information or food for thought then I’d received when going to the barber shop to take my son to get a haircut, or at the hair studio where I get my dreds re-twisted. It’s good for black people to get together and talk about what’s ailing them and pose solutions. I get it. I engage it in. So while SOTBU is not for me, I understand its place in the conversation.
But my issue with SOTBU and “We Count” is simply this; do something. Period. While Tavis seems to be focused on making the government accountable, specifically the president, I haven’t heard an emphasis on black people and black communities making their own solutions. I agree that black people need to engage with the government to help facilitate change, but change isn’t something that starts from the top. In today’s highly politicized culture, how many of these proposals will actually gain fraction? We need to deal with reality.
In my opinion, forums like “We Count” or “State of the Black Union” should not be about creating an agenda for politicians, it should be about creating and agenda for black people. It should be about:
A) Examining the problems in the black community
B) Creating solutions
C) Creating strategies
D) Implementing those solutions
Respectfully, the other part of the problem with the “We count” forums are the participants: Cornel West, Valerie Jarrett, Michael Eric Dyson, Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan, Barbara Lee, Tom Burrell, Marc Morial, Ben Jealous, Al Sharpton and others. An impressive panel filled with people I like and that should be a part of the discussion. But the thing missing from this group are the people who are making solutions to the everyday problems of Black America.
Who would I add? Glad you asked.
Will Allen of Growing Power. We tend to not think about food and dietary issues as a part of the issue for African Americans, but with so many of us living in the inner-city without access to good and healthy food, it’s no wonder our rates of diabetes and other ailments are through the roof. Will Allen has created a farm in the middle of Milwaukee, where there is a large low-income housing project just down the block. Not only is he providing jobs, but he’s giving people healthy food.
Kevin Gaye of Operation New Hope. The national recidivism rate is around 70% (the percentage of former prisoners who are rearrested.) Operation New Hope in Jacksonville Florida has taken the recidivism rate and reduced it to 5%, rather amazing results. In Florida in 2008, 93% of the inmates were African American. So recidivism is a huge issue in the black community.
Mrs. Codelia Taylor of Family House in Milwaukee. The Family House is a “residential long-term care facility and has served the community for over 20 years. It serves men and women 55 years and older or disabled in comfortable, clean, and cheerful conditions in a row of houses.” The residents of Family House pay if they can, but if not, FH will still take them in. Years ago, there was a lot of talk about the greatest generation. Well, here they are and they need our help. Mrs. Taylor does all this work with very little help from the government.
These three are just an example of the solutions to the problems that are facing African Americans. There are many more, if we don’t hear from them on a national level, if they aren’t a part of the solution, how will we ever know about them? Too much of our time is spent on pointing fingers and looking for the government to solve issues. If black people of earlier generations had waited on the government to solve issues, the civil rights movement would have never happened. It was the will of the people, the grassroots work that pushed the government to do the right thing.
I do not buy into the post-racial America. I am a black man, and will be treated as such in this country. My time on the road in various places, many times being the only black man for miles has proven that point to me clearly. I have no illusions about that, but to move people to create this “Black Agenda” Tavis is talking about, we have to include everyone. If you want movement in the political arena, you have to label it what it is: solutions for America. As Jack White said over at the ROOT.com “The problems blacks want to address are not different than those facing many other Americans. You can't fix our catastrophic jobless rate without reviving the entire economy or extending health care coverage to our uninsured without extending it to everybody.”
I’m not saying there is no value to forums like SOTBU or “We Count.” Clearly it brings the issues to the forefront. But we are missing the big picture when we focus on getting a black agenda into the White House. We need to bring people who are getting their hands dirty, who see the problems on a day-to-day basis, the unsung heroes who struggle everyday with making their communities a better place. Work the solutions, then watch the political tide catch on. Washington loves nothing more then to claim success for a good idea, after it’s been proven to work.
This post though, is somewhat a response to Tavis Smiley’s “We Count Summit.” For the record, I didn’t watch. I’ve watched Tavis’ State of the Black Union, and while I respect his idea, I didn’t get much more information or food for thought then I’d received when going to the barber shop to take my son to get a haircut, or at the hair studio where I get my dreds re-twisted. It’s good for black people to get together and talk about what’s ailing them and pose solutions. I get it. I engage it in. So while SOTBU is not for me, I understand its place in the conversation.
But my issue with SOTBU and “We Count” is simply this; do something. Period. While Tavis seems to be focused on making the government accountable, specifically the president, I haven’t heard an emphasis on black people and black communities making their own solutions. I agree that black people need to engage with the government to help facilitate change, but change isn’t something that starts from the top. In today’s highly politicized culture, how many of these proposals will actually gain fraction? We need to deal with reality.
In my opinion, forums like “We Count” or “State of the Black Union” should not be about creating an agenda for politicians, it should be about creating and agenda for black people. It should be about:
A) Examining the problems in the black community
B) Creating solutions
C) Creating strategies
D) Implementing those solutions
Respectfully, the other part of the problem with the “We count” forums are the participants: Cornel West, Valerie Jarrett, Michael Eric Dyson, Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan, Barbara Lee, Tom Burrell, Marc Morial, Ben Jealous, Al Sharpton and others. An impressive panel filled with people I like and that should be a part of the discussion. But the thing missing from this group are the people who are making solutions to the everyday problems of Black America.
Who would I add? Glad you asked.
Will Allen of Growing Power. We tend to not think about food and dietary issues as a part of the issue for African Americans, but with so many of us living in the inner-city without access to good and healthy food, it’s no wonder our rates of diabetes and other ailments are through the roof. Will Allen has created a farm in the middle of Milwaukee, where there is a large low-income housing project just down the block. Not only is he providing jobs, but he’s giving people healthy food.
Kevin Gaye of Operation New Hope. The national recidivism rate is around 70% (the percentage of former prisoners who are rearrested.) Operation New Hope in Jacksonville Florida has taken the recidivism rate and reduced it to 5%, rather amazing results. In Florida in 2008, 93% of the inmates were African American. So recidivism is a huge issue in the black community.
Mrs. Codelia Taylor of Family House in Milwaukee. The Family House is a “residential long-term care facility and has served the community for over 20 years. It serves men and women 55 years and older or disabled in comfortable, clean, and cheerful conditions in a row of houses.” The residents of Family House pay if they can, but if not, FH will still take them in. Years ago, there was a lot of talk about the greatest generation. Well, here they are and they need our help. Mrs. Taylor does all this work with very little help from the government.
These three are just an example of the solutions to the problems that are facing African Americans. There are many more, if we don’t hear from them on a national level, if they aren’t a part of the solution, how will we ever know about them? Too much of our time is spent on pointing fingers and looking for the government to solve issues. If black people of earlier generations had waited on the government to solve issues, the civil rights movement would have never happened. It was the will of the people, the grassroots work that pushed the government to do the right thing.
I do not buy into the post-racial America. I am a black man, and will be treated as such in this country. My time on the road in various places, many times being the only black man for miles has proven that point to me clearly. I have no illusions about that, but to move people to create this “Black Agenda” Tavis is talking about, we have to include everyone. If you want movement in the political arena, you have to label it what it is: solutions for America. As Jack White said over at the ROOT.com “The problems blacks want to address are not different than those facing many other Americans. You can't fix our catastrophic jobless rate without reviving the entire economy or extending health care coverage to our uninsured without extending it to everybody.”
I’m not saying there is no value to forums like SOTBU or “We Count.” Clearly it brings the issues to the forefront. But we are missing the big picture when we focus on getting a black agenda into the White House. We need to bring people who are getting their hands dirty, who see the problems on a day-to-day basis, the unsung heroes who struggle everyday with making their communities a better place. Work the solutions, then watch the political tide catch on. Washington loves nothing more then to claim success for a good idea, after it’s been proven to work.
Monday, December 07, 2009
Valley of the Shadow
“They say the goodness in life comes to people who believe…so I believe..”
- Mos Def
As always it’s been a minute since I had the time to update this blog. Thanks for sticking in there with me. It seems like every time I do write there have been some tectonic shifts in my life and career. Things are moving pretty fast, and at the same time pretty slow. That statement might not make a lot of sense so let me explain.
In July of this year I was told that my radio show, State of the Re:Union was going to be funded. Huge development. Problem is, the funding was coming from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. CPB has been great and the people who work there have had so much faith in me and my vision, it’s been amazing. All that being said, CPB is a big ship, and big ships move slowly. From July to November we struggled to work of the details of a grant that would fund the show for a year, as well as set up the frame work for us to receive funding for two more years. The grant that CPB has given the show is substantial, and that’s great but there are a bunch of hoops that need to be jumped through in order to make it happen.
I sit here writing this now, a little shocked that it all worked out. There were months where I didn’t think it was going to happen, times when I had so much going on, juggling so many balls in the air, that I wonder what good was it all? Saying July to November makes it seems so insignificant, but it was huge because it wasn’t just those months. It was the culmination of the development year for the show. Prior to getting our current funding CPB gave us funding develop the show. This was tricky because it was a great opportunity, but I’ve never developed a public radio show before. To be honest, I learned a lot from the year I was in the contest which won me the opportunity to have a show in the first place, but that was like going to Elementary and suddenly being told that you were being promoted to college. My business partner Ian and I had to fight, learn, think, rethink, mold, burn, build, and start all over again to get us on the right footing. We have some great advisors, smart people who guided us into the right territories, but the work had to be done by the two of us. Of course we hired smart people to help, but at the end of the day, Ian and I were on the line.
It’s been a good experience and I wouldn’t change any of it, it all made me stronger but it was extremely tough. On top of all of that, in August I was performing my solo show at the Abingdon Theatre, and at the same time performing for the Lincoln Center with my boys Griot 3, (I mean literally at the same time, I had a show at the Abingdon, then left to perform at Lincoln center, then returned to the Abingdon for another performance). All this, and I was writing a new play “Crumbs” which debut in November and recording the final vocals for the Des Moines episode of State of the Re:Union. It was a nonstop grind. I’d stacked all these events together because that’s how you pay the bills as an artist. You line up as many gigs as you can in the hopes that one of them is going to be the one that pays the bills, or maybe little bits from all of them will pay it off. There were many nights when I laid in the bed after working 16 hour days (having no days off for three months straight) and wondered why I was putting myself through all of this. When stories broke down, when people didn’t live up to their expectations, when money ran out, when everything fell apart.
Two nights after “Crumbs” had opened in November, I could feel the weight of it all in my bones. I was working the play at night (every night) working the radio stuff during the day (every day) my bank account was negative 350.00 because I hadn’t had a paycheck since August. All my bills were behind, and if it weren’t for the kindness of some incredible friends I don’t know how me or my family would have eaten. I hadn’t seen my family in what seemed like months because I was working so many long hours. That night, it just all seemed too much and I just let go. Tears streaming down the sides of my face my body shook with the force of the emotion. I felt utterly lost, and alone. It seemed like everything I’d been working for was not working for me. I thought, God if you want to take me, now would be a good time. I went to sleep, praying I would wake up renewed. But when I woke up I felt like I was in a deep pit, and the only light I could see was above me, a mile away in the distance. That morning, I sat on the edge of my bed for a half hour, just wanting to curl up in a ball and quit. I thought back on this journey I’ve been on. The wins, the losses, the belief that so many people have in me. The sacrifices I’ve had to make financially and personally, all of it, and I stood up, and took a step, and kept moving from there.
If this was a Hollywood story, that day would be a turning point where everything got better. But it didn’t for two more weeks I had to struggle, feeling like I was falling apart every couple minutes, reassessing, regrouping and marching on until finally I’d climbed out of that pit and felt the sun on my face. I don’t proclaim to have done it myself. I have a great team & family; a support network that would prop me up when I wanted to quit, and every step of the way I felt the presence of God pushing me forward. It’s funny, when I hear people reference God speaking to them they tend to use bible verses, and sometimes when I feel like God is telling me something I do hear verses, (usually when I’m doing something wrong) but mostly when I need it, my God sends me something more accessible to me. He comes in the voice of movie scenes, hip-hop songs, but for this time in my life he sung to me in Bono’s voice “It’s not a hill it’s a mountain, as you start out the climb, do you believe me our you doubt it? But we’re going to make it all the way to the light”
Today, I’m in the light. Our show State of the Re:Union, has been funded, I’ve got a paycheck, my solo show Summer in Sanctuary is being considered for an off Broadway run by a really excellent theatre in NYC, Crumbs was a success, still much work to do on the script, but it’s a great start, things are lining up well. When I talk to people and they ask for advise about how to make it doing what you love I always wonder if they are ready for the heartbreak that happens on the way to your goal? I know I will face these valleys again, hell, it’s probably right around the corner. But the fact that I got through this one is going to help me get though the next.
- Mos Def
As always it’s been a minute since I had the time to update this blog. Thanks for sticking in there with me. It seems like every time I do write there have been some tectonic shifts in my life and career. Things are moving pretty fast, and at the same time pretty slow. That statement might not make a lot of sense so let me explain.
In July of this year I was told that my radio show, State of the Re:Union was going to be funded. Huge development. Problem is, the funding was coming from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. CPB has been great and the people who work there have had so much faith in me and my vision, it’s been amazing. All that being said, CPB is a big ship, and big ships move slowly. From July to November we struggled to work of the details of a grant that would fund the show for a year, as well as set up the frame work for us to receive funding for two more years. The grant that CPB has given the show is substantial, and that’s great but there are a bunch of hoops that need to be jumped through in order to make it happen.
I sit here writing this now, a little shocked that it all worked out. There were months where I didn’t think it was going to happen, times when I had so much going on, juggling so many balls in the air, that I wonder what good was it all? Saying July to November makes it seems so insignificant, but it was huge because it wasn’t just those months. It was the culmination of the development year for the show. Prior to getting our current funding CPB gave us funding develop the show. This was tricky because it was a great opportunity, but I’ve never developed a public radio show before. To be honest, I learned a lot from the year I was in the contest which won me the opportunity to have a show in the first place, but that was like going to Elementary and suddenly being told that you were being promoted to college. My business partner Ian and I had to fight, learn, think, rethink, mold, burn, build, and start all over again to get us on the right footing. We have some great advisors, smart people who guided us into the right territories, but the work had to be done by the two of us. Of course we hired smart people to help, but at the end of the day, Ian and I were on the line.
It’s been a good experience and I wouldn’t change any of it, it all made me stronger but it was extremely tough. On top of all of that, in August I was performing my solo show at the Abingdon Theatre, and at the same time performing for the Lincoln Center with my boys Griot 3, (I mean literally at the same time, I had a show at the Abingdon, then left to perform at Lincoln center, then returned to the Abingdon for another performance). All this, and I was writing a new play “Crumbs” which debut in November and recording the final vocals for the Des Moines episode of State of the Re:Union. It was a nonstop grind. I’d stacked all these events together because that’s how you pay the bills as an artist. You line up as many gigs as you can in the hopes that one of them is going to be the one that pays the bills, or maybe little bits from all of them will pay it off. There were many nights when I laid in the bed after working 16 hour days (having no days off for three months straight) and wondered why I was putting myself through all of this. When stories broke down, when people didn’t live up to their expectations, when money ran out, when everything fell apart.
Two nights after “Crumbs” had opened in November, I could feel the weight of it all in my bones. I was working the play at night (every night) working the radio stuff during the day (every day) my bank account was negative 350.00 because I hadn’t had a paycheck since August. All my bills were behind, and if it weren’t for the kindness of some incredible friends I don’t know how me or my family would have eaten. I hadn’t seen my family in what seemed like months because I was working so many long hours. That night, it just all seemed too much and I just let go. Tears streaming down the sides of my face my body shook with the force of the emotion. I felt utterly lost, and alone. It seemed like everything I’d been working for was not working for me. I thought, God if you want to take me, now would be a good time. I went to sleep, praying I would wake up renewed. But when I woke up I felt like I was in a deep pit, and the only light I could see was above me, a mile away in the distance. That morning, I sat on the edge of my bed for a half hour, just wanting to curl up in a ball and quit. I thought back on this journey I’ve been on. The wins, the losses, the belief that so many people have in me. The sacrifices I’ve had to make financially and personally, all of it, and I stood up, and took a step, and kept moving from there.
If this was a Hollywood story, that day would be a turning point where everything got better. But it didn’t for two more weeks I had to struggle, feeling like I was falling apart every couple minutes, reassessing, regrouping and marching on until finally I’d climbed out of that pit and felt the sun on my face. I don’t proclaim to have done it myself. I have a great team & family; a support network that would prop me up when I wanted to quit, and every step of the way I felt the presence of God pushing me forward. It’s funny, when I hear people reference God speaking to them they tend to use bible verses, and sometimes when I feel like God is telling me something I do hear verses, (usually when I’m doing something wrong) but mostly when I need it, my God sends me something more accessible to me. He comes in the voice of movie scenes, hip-hop songs, but for this time in my life he sung to me in Bono’s voice “It’s not a hill it’s a mountain, as you start out the climb, do you believe me our you doubt it? But we’re going to make it all the way to the light”
Today, I’m in the light. Our show State of the Re:Union, has been funded, I’ve got a paycheck, my solo show Summer in Sanctuary is being considered for an off Broadway run by a really excellent theatre in NYC, Crumbs was a success, still much work to do on the script, but it’s a great start, things are lining up well. When I talk to people and they ask for advise about how to make it doing what you love I always wonder if they are ready for the heartbreak that happens on the way to your goal? I know I will face these valleys again, hell, it’s probably right around the corner. But the fact that I got through this one is going to help me get though the next.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The end of Summer, a new beginning for Radio, and theatrical Crumbs
Usually after not posting in a couple months I start off with a promise to post more. Today I’m bucking the cycle. I’ll post when I can. I don’t want to write a blog full of useless information, and sometimes, I just don’t have the energy to pour it all out. Today is one of those days when I’m so tired but I can’t really sleep, or stop, so probably the best use of time is to write everything that’s going on. I know other people read this blog (four or five people who get bored) but this blog has always been a tool for me to write what’s in my head. An opportunity to write down the highs and lows of my career so I can look back, and understand where I’m going by knowing where I came from.
This has been an incredibly tough summer. How tough? Well I haven’t had a steady paycheck since July. So basically I’ve been living off my credit card since late August. Not having money, and having a family is extremely hard. Some days it feels impossible. I know there are a lot of families in America-in the world struggling like I am right now. But honestly, while it’s been hard I also feel blessed. I have the knowledge that in a couple weeks I’ll be financially fine. I just have to get to that point.
The radio show State of the Re:Union has been such a great unexpected endeavor. Three years ago, I never thought I would be here. An unexpected bi-product of the show is that it’s forced me to become a business man. I’ve always done the business of Al Letson, but honestly, that’s not that difficult. But the radio show- wow. I am a small business owner. Along with my business partner, in the up coming month’s I’ll be employing seven people. Pretty amazing. Also the reason why I’m so broke right now. We are in the midst of negotiating a contract with a funder, so we’ll be able to do the show. Things are working out, our funder is great but when they are giving a large check to a small company like mine it takes time. Apparently three months time. So after the last grant was over we have been in limbo waiting for the next grant to come along. Thus the hard nerve wracking summer. The good news is State of the Re:Union will be heard nationally and we'll be making full seasons whereas last year we were in development and only made three episodes. Time to do it big. I'm ready.
On the flip side, my work is never done. I’ve been on a hard press to write my new play Crumbs. It’s funny every time I sit down to write another play, I can never remember how to do it. I get nervous and wonder if the last play was a fluke. I try to rewrite the last play with a new name, then suddenly it comes. I don’t know how, but “It” comes. I calm down throw out most of what I’ve already written, and write the piece. Unfortunately for Crumbs my time frame was a little crunched. With all my activities in August, (see previous post) I couldn’t get started in earnest until late August. I didn’t finish writing until yesterday, and the show opens in two weeks. To be fair, I’ve had most of the play done for weeks. But still it’s unfair to the actors to give them final pages weeks before we open, but hey, that’s the way it is.
Summer in Sanctuary was my Spaulding Grey play. I was inspired by his work, and wanted to take what he did, i.e. telling stories about his life simply. Him, a glass of water, a desk and his words. Tough to entertain a crowd for 90 mins unless you got the skills. Spaulding had it in spades. I was inspired and wanted to do that myself. Thus, SIS. CRUMBS is my Lisa Kron play. I’ve been a big fan of Lisa’s work for years. She’s a monologist but she experiments with the form. I read her play Well and fell in love. It was essentially a solo show with help. Like Spaudling’s work it was a story from her past that could relate to everyone. After I read that piece I knew exactly how I wanted to tell Crumbs. I won’t go into it in this post but I plan to talk more about it as we pull the show together so stay tuned.
This has been an incredibly tough summer. How tough? Well I haven’t had a steady paycheck since July. So basically I’ve been living off my credit card since late August. Not having money, and having a family is extremely hard. Some days it feels impossible. I know there are a lot of families in America-in the world struggling like I am right now. But honestly, while it’s been hard I also feel blessed. I have the knowledge that in a couple weeks I’ll be financially fine. I just have to get to that point.
The radio show State of the Re:Union has been such a great unexpected endeavor. Three years ago, I never thought I would be here. An unexpected bi-product of the show is that it’s forced me to become a business man. I’ve always done the business of Al Letson, but honestly, that’s not that difficult. But the radio show- wow. I am a small business owner. Along with my business partner, in the up coming month’s I’ll be employing seven people. Pretty amazing. Also the reason why I’m so broke right now. We are in the midst of negotiating a contract with a funder, so we’ll be able to do the show. Things are working out, our funder is great but when they are giving a large check to a small company like mine it takes time. Apparently three months time. So after the last grant was over we have been in limbo waiting for the next grant to come along. Thus the hard nerve wracking summer. The good news is State of the Re:Union will be heard nationally and we'll be making full seasons whereas last year we were in development and only made three episodes. Time to do it big. I'm ready.
On the flip side, my work is never done. I’ve been on a hard press to write my new play Crumbs. It’s funny every time I sit down to write another play, I can never remember how to do it. I get nervous and wonder if the last play was a fluke. I try to rewrite the last play with a new name, then suddenly it comes. I don’t know how, but “It” comes. I calm down throw out most of what I’ve already written, and write the piece. Unfortunately for Crumbs my time frame was a little crunched. With all my activities in August, (see previous post) I couldn’t get started in earnest until late August. I didn’t finish writing until yesterday, and the show opens in two weeks. To be fair, I’ve had most of the play done for weeks. But still it’s unfair to the actors to give them final pages weeks before we open, but hey, that’s the way it is.
Summer in Sanctuary was my Spaulding Grey play. I was inspired by his work, and wanted to take what he did, i.e. telling stories about his life simply. Him, a glass of water, a desk and his words. Tough to entertain a crowd for 90 mins unless you got the skills. Spaulding had it in spades. I was inspired and wanted to do that myself. Thus, SIS. CRUMBS is my Lisa Kron play. I’ve been a big fan of Lisa’s work for years. She’s a monologist but she experiments with the form. I read her play Well and fell in love. It was essentially a solo show with help. Like Spaudling’s work it was a story from her past that could relate to everyone. After I read that piece I knew exactly how I wanted to tell Crumbs. I won’t go into it in this post but I plan to talk more about it as we pull the show together so stay tuned.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
90 Days of Summer
90 Days of Summer.
I realized with the last post I didn’t talk much about where I am and what I’m doing. So here we go……
In June State of the Re:Union hosted it’s first live event in Jacksonville Fl. It was a great little event. We got about 300 people to come out and check out the show. This was somewhat of a premier for the Jacksonville episode of SOTRU, we had three guest, and as we showed the multimedia clips we created, the audience was able to ask the guests questions about the show, the stories, and our process. Good stuff, and this event created a prototype of how we want to do live shows in the future.
In July SOTRU went to Des Moines for the next episode. Taki Telonidis, Zak Rosen, and I went to the heartland to work on the episode while our crew in Jacksonville provided logistical support. We came home with a ton of material and a lot of work to do to create an episode.
Coming up in late August Players by the Sea will be doing a reading of my new play Crumbs. The piece is in decent shape. But I’m still writing it. Tricky, cause I love the story, but the style is a little different then what I normally do. Which is what I want. I always want to challenge myself, and this piece fits that category. So all August I’ve been working this new play getting ready for the reading.
In early August I performed my solo show Summer in Sanctuary at the Abingdon Theatre. But to tell this story we need to rewind a bit. In April I applied for a grant from the Community Foundation. I applied to get money to fund a workshop performance of the play. The idea was to find a good director that could help me as an actor, writer, but also help push the play into theatres and production companies, someone with a track record and connections. I was fortunate that my friend StacyAnn Chin directed me to a director that she worked with on her solo show. The director Rob is incredible, everything I’ve been looking for. I’ve worked with a handful of great directors, and Rob is definitely in that category. The difference between him and the others is that he’s a director that lives and works in NYC, so he’s got the connections to the places I’d like to have my work performed.
When I got the grant Rob went into action and booked the theatre, and along with my friend/confidant/sorta-manager Bobby, and myself we put up the show for one night. Two performances free to the public. The goal was to get people out that could help move the play forward. Rob and I worked on the script for a couple weeks we did rewrites, rethinking, and blocking. It was a really great experience for me, because having someone from the outside look at the work, and help me clarify points of the story was invaluable. We were able to make tough cuts that moved the play forward faster, and in a solo show, that’s extremely important.
In the meantime, my group, Griot 3 was invited to perform as a part of the Lincoln Center Out of Doors “La Casita Festival” a traveling festival that goes around NYC with artist who perform the spoken word and musicians. It was an honor, seriously, an honor to be invited by the Lincoln Center. Years ago my good friend Jimmy introduced me to Bill Bragin, who’s now at the Lincoln Center, and Bill introduced the curators to our work, and we got the gigs, four dates in one week.
Here’s where it gets tricky. I had La Casita, Summer in Sanctuary, writing Crumbs, plus finishing the vocals (an editing a story) for the next SOTRU installment, “Heart of the Heartland” all in the same week.
The last three weeks have been non-stop work. I would wake up start working on the radio stuff, then switch over to working on the Sanctuary script, then switch over to the Crumbs script, then go to rehearsal for SIS with Rob. I’d leave there, get something to eat then go back to working on radio, and scripts. Through all of this, I averaged about 5 hours of sleep a night. I was in NYC for two weeks before Larry and David joined me for the La Casita gig. Once they got there, I had to do the same stuff as before, but now I had to do gigs as well. On the day I performed SIS, @ the Abingdon, I also had a performance for La Casita. So on that day I performed 3 times. Crazy, but actually fun.
If I’m honest there where times when I wanted to quit. When I laid in bed and thought, “God if you want me, I’m cool, you can come get me tonight.” LOL, Like I have a choice in the matter or he needs my permission. I have a great support network, they all think I’m crazy for taking on so much, but they also help me through it. Without the good Lord looking over me and Ian, Stacie, Taki, Larry, and David I have no idea how I would have got through those weeks. But I did.
The results better then expected. SIS was a success at the Abingdon. I can’t talk specifics, but if things work out, the show might be off-broadway in the future. The La Casita, were great performances, we rocked every crowd we saw and I’m pretty sure the Lincoln Center was pleased. While I was in NYC I found out that SOTRU had passed a significant hurdle in it’s quest for future funding. Nothing in stone, but we are almost there. “Heart of the Heartland” will be the best episode of SOTRU yet. Hands down. I finished the vocals in my hotel room. Recording them under the comforter on the bed to get the best sound. Taki was able to take the audio and make it work. As I write this I’m tired, tired, tired. But I feel like this was all for something. It was all worth it and I’d do it again, and again, and again. In the movie “The Pursuit of Happyness” Will Smith says to his son. “You want something? Go get it. Period.” I’m going to get it. Period.
After I came back from New York in Feb from the reading of JX. I felt like I’d failed. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Either way, it was good for me to feel that, cause for me, that emotion just pushes me hard. Makes me get up and work longer. Because there maybe people who are more talented, smarter, prettier, but no one is going to work harder then me. I’m never going to settle for a loss. I’ll take it, and learn from it and then watch out, cause I’m going to get it.
I realized with the last post I didn’t talk much about where I am and what I’m doing. So here we go……
In June State of the Re:Union hosted it’s first live event in Jacksonville Fl. It was a great little event. We got about 300 people to come out and check out the show. This was somewhat of a premier for the Jacksonville episode of SOTRU, we had three guest, and as we showed the multimedia clips we created, the audience was able to ask the guests questions about the show, the stories, and our process. Good stuff, and this event created a prototype of how we want to do live shows in the future.
In July SOTRU went to Des Moines for the next episode. Taki Telonidis, Zak Rosen, and I went to the heartland to work on the episode while our crew in Jacksonville provided logistical support. We came home with a ton of material and a lot of work to do to create an episode.
Coming up in late August Players by the Sea will be doing a reading of my new play Crumbs. The piece is in decent shape. But I’m still writing it. Tricky, cause I love the story, but the style is a little different then what I normally do. Which is what I want. I always want to challenge myself, and this piece fits that category. So all August I’ve been working this new play getting ready for the reading.
In early August I performed my solo show Summer in Sanctuary at the Abingdon Theatre. But to tell this story we need to rewind a bit. In April I applied for a grant from the Community Foundation. I applied to get money to fund a workshop performance of the play. The idea was to find a good director that could help me as an actor, writer, but also help push the play into theatres and production companies, someone with a track record and connections. I was fortunate that my friend StacyAnn Chin directed me to a director that she worked with on her solo show. The director Rob is incredible, everything I’ve been looking for. I’ve worked with a handful of great directors, and Rob is definitely in that category. The difference between him and the others is that he’s a director that lives and works in NYC, so he’s got the connections to the places I’d like to have my work performed.
When I got the grant Rob went into action and booked the theatre, and along with my friend/confidant/sorta-manager Bobby, and myself we put up the show for one night. Two performances free to the public. The goal was to get people out that could help move the play forward. Rob and I worked on the script for a couple weeks we did rewrites, rethinking, and blocking. It was a really great experience for me, because having someone from the outside look at the work, and help me clarify points of the story was invaluable. We were able to make tough cuts that moved the play forward faster, and in a solo show, that’s extremely important.
In the meantime, my group, Griot 3 was invited to perform as a part of the Lincoln Center Out of Doors “La Casita Festival” a traveling festival that goes around NYC with artist who perform the spoken word and musicians. It was an honor, seriously, an honor to be invited by the Lincoln Center. Years ago my good friend Jimmy introduced me to Bill Bragin, who’s now at the Lincoln Center, and Bill introduced the curators to our work, and we got the gigs, four dates in one week.
Here’s where it gets tricky. I had La Casita, Summer in Sanctuary, writing Crumbs, plus finishing the vocals (an editing a story) for the next SOTRU installment, “Heart of the Heartland” all in the same week.
The last three weeks have been non-stop work. I would wake up start working on the radio stuff, then switch over to working on the Sanctuary script, then switch over to the Crumbs script, then go to rehearsal for SIS with Rob. I’d leave there, get something to eat then go back to working on radio, and scripts. Through all of this, I averaged about 5 hours of sleep a night. I was in NYC for two weeks before Larry and David joined me for the La Casita gig. Once they got there, I had to do the same stuff as before, but now I had to do gigs as well. On the day I performed SIS, @ the Abingdon, I also had a performance for La Casita. So on that day I performed 3 times. Crazy, but actually fun.
If I’m honest there where times when I wanted to quit. When I laid in bed and thought, “God if you want me, I’m cool, you can come get me tonight.” LOL, Like I have a choice in the matter or he needs my permission. I have a great support network, they all think I’m crazy for taking on so much, but they also help me through it. Without the good Lord looking over me and Ian, Stacie, Taki, Larry, and David I have no idea how I would have got through those weeks. But I did.
The results better then expected. SIS was a success at the Abingdon. I can’t talk specifics, but if things work out, the show might be off-broadway in the future. The La Casita, were great performances, we rocked every crowd we saw and I’m pretty sure the Lincoln Center was pleased. While I was in NYC I found out that SOTRU had passed a significant hurdle in it’s quest for future funding. Nothing in stone, but we are almost there. “Heart of the Heartland” will be the best episode of SOTRU yet. Hands down. I finished the vocals in my hotel room. Recording them under the comforter on the bed to get the best sound. Taki was able to take the audio and make it work. As I write this I’m tired, tired, tired. But I feel like this was all for something. It was all worth it and I’d do it again, and again, and again. In the movie “The Pursuit of Happyness” Will Smith says to his son. “You want something? Go get it. Period.” I’m going to get it. Period.
After I came back from New York in Feb from the reading of JX. I felt like I’d failed. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Either way, it was good for me to feel that, cause for me, that emotion just pushes me hard. Makes me get up and work longer. Because there maybe people who are more talented, smarter, prettier, but no one is going to work harder then me. I’m never going to settle for a loss. I’ll take it, and learn from it and then watch out, cause I’m going to get it.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Letters to a young poet/writer/actor/artist/dancer/fill in the blanks….
Dear Blog readers.
Forgive my absence. It’s been a minute since I had the opportunity to sit down and write another post. I don’t really have a lot of time these days to blog, but I got tired of looking at the old post “Failure”. That was a little too depressing. LOL. Today I’m feeling much more optimistic but at the same time, much more tired. So far this year I have nothing to complain about, I feel like I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, because opportunities have presented themselves, and I’ve tried to jump on every one. Lately a couple people have written me and asked for advice as far as their career is concerned. That seems a little odd to me because I have had the most unconventional career path, and I am very much still working hard to bring all of it in focus. Still, after receiving four such emails in the past two months, I figured maybe it’s worth blogging about. So I’m turning this into an occasional series,which I’m calling “Letters to a young poet/writer/actor/artist/dancer/fill in the blanks….” I’ll be posting on this topic from time to time.
RULE 1: NO PLAN B.
I always start with this rule because it’s the hardest to tell people. No Plan B. This goes against everything we are taught at school, from our parents, and society as a whole. They tell you to dream, but then always advise you to keep something in your backpocket, have a career you can rely on cause trying to make it as an artist is a crap shoot. And they are right. If you need that security, then go get it. Be a banker, a lawyer, a policeman, but don’t be an artist. If you want to create for a living then do it. No plan B nothing to fall back on. Because this life is hard, and uncertain. You will fail. You will be rejected. You will want to quit several times and if you have a plan B, you will do it. Save yourself the heartbreak make Plan B your path, and do art as a hobby. (Which is totally acceptable.)
People have told me how “brave” I am to go out there and keep doing what I do. “It takes a lot of courage” I couldn’t disagree more. It would be courageous if I had options. I do not. This is all I have. If I’m not making art, performing, writing, creating, then I have nothing. In the next 5 years I’ll be over forty, and all I’m really good at is my art. Because I have forged ahead with no Plan B, I fight for everything, I think my moves through, I work as hard as I can, because for me, it’s survival. I’ve worked several jobs, and been okay at them, and I can always find some side work to pay the bills. That is not a plan B however. That’s just filling in the blanks between gigs, it’s never an alternative career. I know a lot of writers and artist that teach, and I guess technically this is a plan B, but I think it depends on the individual. I think there are a lot of artist who teach to pay the bills. They enjoy teaching, but art is where their passion is. I think there are a lot of teachers who do art. They enjoy creating, but teaching is where their passion is. I believe it’s an individuals choice as to how to look at whether you are engaging in a plan B or just doing what you need to eat.
Disclaimer 1: If you sign up for the no plan B, chances are you will be broke, A LOT. Art is a whole is not a very financially rewarding endeavor. It can be, but most times not. Therefore if money is your goal, make a really good plan B.
Disclaimer 2: I am in no way sittiong in judgement of people who choose path B. Not at all. I think it’s an individual choice and making that choice does not mean that you have nothing to contribute. On the contrary, some of the most incredible art comes from people doing it part time. I am only stating what I have done, and why it works for me.
Forgive my absence. It’s been a minute since I had the opportunity to sit down and write another post. I don’t really have a lot of time these days to blog, but I got tired of looking at the old post “Failure”. That was a little too depressing. LOL. Today I’m feeling much more optimistic but at the same time, much more tired. So far this year I have nothing to complain about, I feel like I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, because opportunities have presented themselves, and I’ve tried to jump on every one. Lately a couple people have written me and asked for advice as far as their career is concerned. That seems a little odd to me because I have had the most unconventional career path, and I am very much still working hard to bring all of it in focus. Still, after receiving four such emails in the past two months, I figured maybe it’s worth blogging about. So I’m turning this into an occasional series,which I’m calling “Letters to a young poet/writer/actor/artist/dancer/fill in the blanks….” I’ll be posting on this topic from time to time.
RULE 1: NO PLAN B.
I always start with this rule because it’s the hardest to tell people. No Plan B. This goes against everything we are taught at school, from our parents, and society as a whole. They tell you to dream, but then always advise you to keep something in your backpocket, have a career you can rely on cause trying to make it as an artist is a crap shoot. And they are right. If you need that security, then go get it. Be a banker, a lawyer, a policeman, but don’t be an artist. If you want to create for a living then do it. No plan B nothing to fall back on. Because this life is hard, and uncertain. You will fail. You will be rejected. You will want to quit several times and if you have a plan B, you will do it. Save yourself the heartbreak make Plan B your path, and do art as a hobby. (Which is totally acceptable.)
People have told me how “brave” I am to go out there and keep doing what I do. “It takes a lot of courage” I couldn’t disagree more. It would be courageous if I had options. I do not. This is all I have. If I’m not making art, performing, writing, creating, then I have nothing. In the next 5 years I’ll be over forty, and all I’m really good at is my art. Because I have forged ahead with no Plan B, I fight for everything, I think my moves through, I work as hard as I can, because for me, it’s survival. I’ve worked several jobs, and been okay at them, and I can always find some side work to pay the bills. That is not a plan B however. That’s just filling in the blanks between gigs, it’s never an alternative career. I know a lot of writers and artist that teach, and I guess technically this is a plan B, but I think it depends on the individual. I think there are a lot of artist who teach to pay the bills. They enjoy teaching, but art is where their passion is. I think there are a lot of teachers who do art. They enjoy creating, but teaching is where their passion is. I believe it’s an individuals choice as to how to look at whether you are engaging in a plan B or just doing what you need to eat.
Disclaimer 1: If you sign up for the no plan B, chances are you will be broke, A LOT. Art is a whole is not a very financially rewarding endeavor. It can be, but most times not. Therefore if money is your goal, make a really good plan B.
Disclaimer 2: I am in no way sittiong in judgement of people who choose path B. Not at all. I think it’s an individual choice and making that choice does not mean that you have nothing to contribute. On the contrary, some of the most incredible art comes from people doing it part time. I am only stating what I have done, and why it works for me.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Failure
Failure
"I have missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game winning shot... and missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why... I succeed."
Michael Jordan
I wasn’t going to post these thoughts because I look at this blog as a place where I talk about what’s going on in the career of Al Letson. Generally, I like to keep it positive. I usually try not to talk about the struggles here, but in reflection, I think that without talking about the bad times, the celebration of the good times doesn’t have as much meaning.
That being said, I’m at the point of burn-out. On everything. I need to get away for awhile. Leave the computer on the desk and relax. But I don’t see where I’ll have time to do that until August (if then). All the projects I’m working on seems a little too big, or a little too hopeless. I’m still working to perfect the Jacksonville episode. I like what I have, but I feel like I could do better. I need to give people a better sense of the place. Right now I think I have good solid stories, but I need more parts to fill it out. If I was okay with being good, then I think it’d be fine. But I’m not okay with being good. I want to be brilliant. I will be brilliant. Period. The space between good and brilliant is a hard spot. In some ways I feel like I'm just not doing enough. Like the show needs to work better in some key areas, and I'm not sure how to do it. So, yeah, it feels like I'm failing. I don't know what else I can do. It's got to come from outside of me. I have a great team but I need a senior producer to really help find that missing part. Until then, I've got to push to make it work. Fortunately, in circumstances like this, I am always at my best.
The theatre side of my career is where most of my frustration comes from. My best friend Jamel told me the other night, “How come every time I talk to you, it’s like you are waiting on someone else to give you the green light?” He's right and for a person like me, who likes being in control that’s the part of being an artist that kills. I’ve got all of these great ideas, scripts, and stories, and yet I always feel like I’m on the outside begging to get in. Today Julius X will be read for a second time by the Classical Theatre of Harlem @ the cell theater. I am extremely excited for this to happen. But on the flip side, I’m a little disappointed because I feel like this will probably be the end for the play. I could be completely wrong, but I can help but feel like what I was hoping for (someone who could help produce the play) would see the work, and want to help find a way to make it work. I’m confident, that if the right person is in the room, the play will get what it needs to be given a full run in NYC. The actors are amazing, the director is excellent, and the story and writing are on point. And yet, I don’t have much working as far as getting people out. It’s the never-ending problem for me. I create good work, but have no advocate to get that work out there. It’s beyond frustrating.
My play Summer in Sanctuary is in neutral. After having great success in at home and in Baltimore, the piece has been rejected by every juried festival I’ve sent it to. I believe in the play again I know it’s strong. I’ve seen solo shows in NYC and I’m always disappointed. I know my plays are stronger then what I’m seeing, but I can’t get anyone to really take me seriously. I’m working on a new play and I’m getting the feeling of “Why?” Why create anymore because it will be like all the other pieces. Good work that will collect dust. That feeling never last for long because the answer to the question “WHY?” is simple, because I could not, not do it. I can’t stop writing. I can’t stop performing. It’s who I am. On a dark day in Boston eleven years ago, I learned what the consequences were of not following the art. I’d tried to stop writing to make other people happy to fit into someone else box, and one day it all came crashing down. I thought about just ending it all because I was so lost. It was a terrible day that I had to go through to learn who I really am. An artist. A writer. A doer. A dreamer. And no matter how bad I feel right now, it’s nothing in comparison to sense of utter loss I felt when I tried to stop being me.
My mantra has always been “Do the work” and everything else will work out and I’m going to keep that mantra going, but some days when you do all the work and nothing works out it can be demoralizing.
"I have missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game winning shot... and missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why... I succeed."
Michael Jordan
I wasn’t going to post these thoughts because I look at this blog as a place where I talk about what’s going on in the career of Al Letson. Generally, I like to keep it positive. I usually try not to talk about the struggles here, but in reflection, I think that without talking about the bad times, the celebration of the good times doesn’t have as much meaning.
That being said, I’m at the point of burn-out. On everything. I need to get away for awhile. Leave the computer on the desk and relax. But I don’t see where I’ll have time to do that until August (if then). All the projects I’m working on seems a little too big, or a little too hopeless. I’m still working to perfect the Jacksonville episode. I like what I have, but I feel like I could do better. I need to give people a better sense of the place. Right now I think I have good solid stories, but I need more parts to fill it out. If I was okay with being good, then I think it’d be fine. But I’m not okay with being good. I want to be brilliant. I will be brilliant. Period. The space between good and brilliant is a hard spot. In some ways I feel like I'm just not doing enough. Like the show needs to work better in some key areas, and I'm not sure how to do it. So, yeah, it feels like I'm failing. I don't know what else I can do. It's got to come from outside of me. I have a great team but I need a senior producer to really help find that missing part. Until then, I've got to push to make it work. Fortunately, in circumstances like this, I am always at my best.
The theatre side of my career is where most of my frustration comes from. My best friend Jamel told me the other night, “How come every time I talk to you, it’s like you are waiting on someone else to give you the green light?” He's right and for a person like me, who likes being in control that’s the part of being an artist that kills. I’ve got all of these great ideas, scripts, and stories, and yet I always feel like I’m on the outside begging to get in. Today Julius X will be read for a second time by the Classical Theatre of Harlem @ the cell theater. I am extremely excited for this to happen. But on the flip side, I’m a little disappointed because I feel like this will probably be the end for the play. I could be completely wrong, but I can help but feel like what I was hoping for (someone who could help produce the play) would see the work, and want to help find a way to make it work. I’m confident, that if the right person is in the room, the play will get what it needs to be given a full run in NYC. The actors are amazing, the director is excellent, and the story and writing are on point. And yet, I don’t have much working as far as getting people out. It’s the never-ending problem for me. I create good work, but have no advocate to get that work out there. It’s beyond frustrating.
My play Summer in Sanctuary is in neutral. After having great success in at home and in Baltimore, the piece has been rejected by every juried festival I’ve sent it to. I believe in the play again I know it’s strong. I’ve seen solo shows in NYC and I’m always disappointed. I know my plays are stronger then what I’m seeing, but I can’t get anyone to really take me seriously. I’m working on a new play and I’m getting the feeling of “Why?” Why create anymore because it will be like all the other pieces. Good work that will collect dust. That feeling never last for long because the answer to the question “WHY?” is simple, because I could not, not do it. I can’t stop writing. I can’t stop performing. It’s who I am. On a dark day in Boston eleven years ago, I learned what the consequences were of not following the art. I’d tried to stop writing to make other people happy to fit into someone else box, and one day it all came crashing down. I thought about just ending it all because I was so lost. It was a terrible day that I had to go through to learn who I really am. An artist. A writer. A doer. A dreamer. And no matter how bad I feel right now, it’s nothing in comparison to sense of utter loss I felt when I tried to stop being me.
My mantra has always been “Do the work” and everything else will work out and I’m going to keep that mantra going, but some days when you do all the work and nothing works out it can be demoralizing.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Julius X comes home.
“I’m going to remember this night, for the rest of my life.” That’s what I was thinking when my cousin walked into Schomburg Center in New York City. I have a strange relationship with New York. I love her. Seriously. I have such great memories of NY. Syretta, Bassey, Sabrina and I walking through Brooklyn in the summer. Stacie, Rich and I stumbling from bar to bar in the West Village. Seeing Passing Strange on Broadway, wanting to throw my concessions at a solo performer while Lucy and Jason practically snored next to me. I could go on and on.
Then there are the tough times; As a kid I was a leader in a hip hop group, Jamel, Squiggy, LJ, we drove up to NY looking to break in. I remember leaving to get on the subway, and I told everyone, “Grab a tape, we’re in NY anything can happen.” Nothing happened except we spent a ton of money with nothing in return. Dan and I went to NYC to do my solo show Essential Personnel, I later returned with Barbara, Mark and a band to put the show up again. Sometimes I’d perform for forty people most of the time I performed for three. I thought the experience of performing for such a small crowd was the worst thing that happened to me. Now I know it was one of the best. Traveling that for to perform for three people seemed like such a waste. But really it prepared me in ways I couldn’t imagine at the time. Professionally, every time I left New York, I’d think, she got me again. While staying in the city rehearsing with a new director for Essential Personnel, Ron, I woke up in Bassey and Maro’s apartment in Brooklyn to find out the sky had fallen. I remember clearly walking through the streets going to get something to eat, and the ash from the Towers floating in the air. Seed and I “escaped” New York three days later. When we drove out from the city, I looked out of the rear window and watched as the smoke crept from the mounds of debris and stretched itself into the night sky. I mourned for the city, the people, and the idea of New York. The idea that all these people of all different backgrounds could be in the same place, work together, live together, love/hate and struggle together it seemed that 9/11 had destroyed that.
Thankfully New York and her people are stronger then that.
I wrote Julius X, about a mythical time and place in America, Harlem more specifically. The play is set in an alternative universe, but it is about honoring a man, Malcolm X, a place, and a time. I did a ton of research, talked to Jimmy, Dr. Felicia and her mother to help me fill out the vision of what Harlem was, what it meant to the people who lived there. It’s a complicated piece with a lot of layers. I’ve had two really excellent directors do the play and I’m happy with both of their visions. Gary’s (Plowshares in Detroit) version was tight and well staged, Barbara’s (Players by the Sea in Jacksonville) was big, and smart. Both got the poetry right for the most part. The actors in both were good. Except, Julius. The Detroit Julius was good, but not what I was looking for, I enjoyed him as an actor, just not sure I dug him in that role. The less I say about the Jacksonville Julius probably the better.
There have been other productions, one in Cleveland that I didn’t get to see. I was curious how that production was because I was not able to work with the actors on the poetry, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to work out. The reviews were mixed, I didn’t expect to get much out of it. But oddly enough that production is how the Classical Theatre of Harlem found out about the play. While on tour they’d heard from someone that they needed to check out the play, they asked for a script, I sent it in and didn’t hear anything for a while, and then they schedule the reading. Between radio, Summer in Sanctuary, and my new piece Crumbs, I hadn’t thought much about it.
I came to New York for rehearsal a little unsure. The director Tracy, was young and hadn’t directed a lot. She was nice though, and I thought she got the material… but still. All of that was erased the minute we started rehearsal. The cast was phenomenal, and Tracy’s command of the rhythm was impressive. In a week’s time we bonded and created something that was better then I’d even imagined it in my head. Each actor did amazing work, but I’d seen great actors in various roles, so while I was impressed I wasn’t surprised. It was the smaller roles that blew me away; usually in a production the weaker actors get the smaller roles. In this reading, we got some excellent talent to read these small parts and really bring it to life. And then there was Julius. Ty Jones is an incredible actor, I’ve seen him, do his thing a couple times, and I enjoyed watching him. When CTH said they wanted to read the play I asked if Ty could be Julius because I knew he could kill the part. Thankfully Ty is on the board of CTH, and agreed to do it. He was magnificent. He gave the reading exactly what the role needs. Fire, smarts, and a magnetism that makes you as an audience member want to follow him. Without that fire, the play loses much of it’s punch. The actors, the drummer/violinist, Tracy and I were able to collaborate on the material and elevate it beyond what I have been hearing in my head into something beautiful.
The night of the reading, I got all screwed up on subway, and had to jump in a cab to get to the Schomburg Center. When I read the address to the cabbie, is when it hit me. The Schomburg is in Harlem. 135 and Malcolm X Blvd. Performing the piece in Harlem was something I wanted to do since started writing the play, but honestly I never thought it would happen. It struck me watching the actors, give the play it’s due, in some ways I’ve accomplished a goal, a dream that I held on to so long, I just didn’t even think about it anymore.
I’m not one for looking back when it comes to my career. When good things happen, I take it, enjoy it for a day or two then let it go. I learned long ago that the business is a series of ups and downs and the way you survive is not to get too high or too low. But this week, I know I will feel similar to the way I did when my children were born. A continual floating high, that’s not so easy to let go.
God is good, and the universe makes space when you dream.
Then there are the tough times; As a kid I was a leader in a hip hop group, Jamel, Squiggy, LJ, we drove up to NY looking to break in. I remember leaving to get on the subway, and I told everyone, “Grab a tape, we’re in NY anything can happen.” Nothing happened except we spent a ton of money with nothing in return. Dan and I went to NYC to do my solo show Essential Personnel, I later returned with Barbara, Mark and a band to put the show up again. Sometimes I’d perform for forty people most of the time I performed for three. I thought the experience of performing for such a small crowd was the worst thing that happened to me. Now I know it was one of the best. Traveling that for to perform for three people seemed like such a waste. But really it prepared me in ways I couldn’t imagine at the time. Professionally, every time I left New York, I’d think, she got me again. While staying in the city rehearsing with a new director for Essential Personnel, Ron, I woke up in Bassey and Maro’s apartment in Brooklyn to find out the sky had fallen. I remember clearly walking through the streets going to get something to eat, and the ash from the Towers floating in the air. Seed and I “escaped” New York three days later. When we drove out from the city, I looked out of the rear window and watched as the smoke crept from the mounds of debris and stretched itself into the night sky. I mourned for the city, the people, and the idea of New York. The idea that all these people of all different backgrounds could be in the same place, work together, live together, love/hate and struggle together it seemed that 9/11 had destroyed that.
Thankfully New York and her people are stronger then that.
I wrote Julius X, about a mythical time and place in America, Harlem more specifically. The play is set in an alternative universe, but it is about honoring a man, Malcolm X, a place, and a time. I did a ton of research, talked to Jimmy, Dr. Felicia and her mother to help me fill out the vision of what Harlem was, what it meant to the people who lived there. It’s a complicated piece with a lot of layers. I’ve had two really excellent directors do the play and I’m happy with both of their visions. Gary’s (Plowshares in Detroit) version was tight and well staged, Barbara’s (Players by the Sea in Jacksonville) was big, and smart. Both got the poetry right for the most part. The actors in both were good. Except, Julius. The Detroit Julius was good, but not what I was looking for, I enjoyed him as an actor, just not sure I dug him in that role. The less I say about the Jacksonville Julius probably the better.
There have been other productions, one in Cleveland that I didn’t get to see. I was curious how that production was because I was not able to work with the actors on the poetry, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to work out. The reviews were mixed, I didn’t expect to get much out of it. But oddly enough that production is how the Classical Theatre of Harlem found out about the play. While on tour they’d heard from someone that they needed to check out the play, they asked for a script, I sent it in and didn’t hear anything for a while, and then they schedule the reading. Between radio, Summer in Sanctuary, and my new piece Crumbs, I hadn’t thought much about it.
I came to New York for rehearsal a little unsure. The director Tracy, was young and hadn’t directed a lot. She was nice though, and I thought she got the material… but still. All of that was erased the minute we started rehearsal. The cast was phenomenal, and Tracy’s command of the rhythm was impressive. In a week’s time we bonded and created something that was better then I’d even imagined it in my head. Each actor did amazing work, but I’d seen great actors in various roles, so while I was impressed I wasn’t surprised. It was the smaller roles that blew me away; usually in a production the weaker actors get the smaller roles. In this reading, we got some excellent talent to read these small parts and really bring it to life. And then there was Julius. Ty Jones is an incredible actor, I’ve seen him, do his thing a couple times, and I enjoyed watching him. When CTH said they wanted to read the play I asked if Ty could be Julius because I knew he could kill the part. Thankfully Ty is on the board of CTH, and agreed to do it. He was magnificent. He gave the reading exactly what the role needs. Fire, smarts, and a magnetism that makes you as an audience member want to follow him. Without that fire, the play loses much of it’s punch. The actors, the drummer/violinist, Tracy and I were able to collaborate on the material and elevate it beyond what I have been hearing in my head into something beautiful.
The night of the reading, I got all screwed up on subway, and had to jump in a cab to get to the Schomburg Center. When I read the address to the cabbie, is when it hit me. The Schomburg is in Harlem. 135 and Malcolm X Blvd. Performing the piece in Harlem was something I wanted to do since started writing the play, but honestly I never thought it would happen. It struck me watching the actors, give the play it’s due, in some ways I’ve accomplished a goal, a dream that I held on to so long, I just didn’t even think about it anymore.
I’m not one for looking back when it comes to my career. When good things happen, I take it, enjoy it for a day or two then let it go. I learned long ago that the business is a series of ups and downs and the way you survive is not to get too high or too low. But this week, I know I will feel similar to the way I did when my children were born. A continual floating high, that’s not so easy to let go.
God is good, and the universe makes space when you dream.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Today is the Future.
Today is the Future.
Happy 2009. Now time to get to work. I’ve been working on the next installment of my radio show State of the Re:UNION Jacksonville Bold New City of the South for a couple weeks now. The process of creating a show is a weird mixture of excitement, fear, and logistics. I’m embracing it, but just like every show Jacksonville presents a challenge. Here, I’d say the biggest challenge comes in three areas.
1. I was on my way to report a story, ran into on of my favorite spots the Burrito Gallery, to grab something to eat came out to my car 10 minutes later to find that my car had been broken into and all of my audio equipment was stole. The thieves must have been watching me when I parked because I made sure all my doors were locked and put my bag under the seat with a jacket on top of it. They went right for the bag, leaving everything else in tact. At first I was pissed. But a week later I can look back on it and be glad. I’m happy because right now, I’m sad to say the city I love so much is in the throws of violence. It’s everywhere. People are being killed for less then nothing. If I’d left the Burrito Gallery five minutes earlier, I might have caught the thieves, and they might have caught me with some bullets. Eight hundred dollars worth of equipment is not worth mine or anyone else’s life.
2. This is my home city. You’d think it would be easier to do a show on your home territory but in some ways that familiarity is the enemy. It makes objectivity hard. The staff of SOTRU and I have spent weeks thinking about the stories we would tell, how could we sum up a city we know so well, we almost have too many ideas.
3. I love SOTRU: Motor City Rebound. But there are things in the show that I want to do better. This is our development process, so we are allowing ourselves to experiment with form and content. With Detroit, I feel like we didn’t get the grit of the city, we got so many stories of optimism, which was great, but I think it would have been better to have a little more balance.
These three challenges are going to make this show special. I’ve decided that this episode needs to be extremely personal. Like I must take ownership of this city, the good and bad. I have a personal history with this place, some days I love it, other days I want to run as fast and far as I can to get away from it. So my goal is to take that contradiction and give it life.
Happy 2009. Now time to get to work. I’ve been working on the next installment of my radio show State of the Re:UNION Jacksonville Bold New City of the South for a couple weeks now. The process of creating a show is a weird mixture of excitement, fear, and logistics. I’m embracing it, but just like every show Jacksonville presents a challenge. Here, I’d say the biggest challenge comes in three areas.
1. I was on my way to report a story, ran into on of my favorite spots the Burrito Gallery, to grab something to eat came out to my car 10 minutes later to find that my car had been broken into and all of my audio equipment was stole. The thieves must have been watching me when I parked because I made sure all my doors were locked and put my bag under the seat with a jacket on top of it. They went right for the bag, leaving everything else in tact. At first I was pissed. But a week later I can look back on it and be glad. I’m happy because right now, I’m sad to say the city I love so much is in the throws of violence. It’s everywhere. People are being killed for less then nothing. If I’d left the Burrito Gallery five minutes earlier, I might have caught the thieves, and they might have caught me with some bullets. Eight hundred dollars worth of equipment is not worth mine or anyone else’s life.
2. This is my home city. You’d think it would be easier to do a show on your home territory but in some ways that familiarity is the enemy. It makes objectivity hard. The staff of SOTRU and I have spent weeks thinking about the stories we would tell, how could we sum up a city we know so well, we almost have too many ideas.
3. I love SOTRU: Motor City Rebound. But there are things in the show that I want to do better. This is our development process, so we are allowing ourselves to experiment with form and content. With Detroit, I feel like we didn’t get the grit of the city, we got so many stories of optimism, which was great, but I think it would have been better to have a little more balance.
These three challenges are going to make this show special. I’ve decided that this episode needs to be extremely personal. Like I must take ownership of this city, the good and bad. I have a personal history with this place, some days I love it, other days I want to run as fast and far as I can to get away from it. So my goal is to take that contradiction and give it life.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
End of the Year Round up.
EndEnd of the Year Round up.
A bunch is going on with me at the close of the year so I thought I’d wrap it up here.
Everyone has been asking me about the cuts at NPR, and wondering if it affects me. Yes and no. I know a lot of good people who got hurt by the cuts at NPR, my “Obi Wan” Doug Mitchell, the staff of New and Notes and a couple other people who have really helped me in this journey through radio have felt the pinch. They are so brilliant at what they do, it sadness me that NPR couldn’t find a way to keep their shows and programs running. Knowing all of these people, I can comfortably say, this will not stop them. It might actually be a blessing. Freeing them to do bigger and bolder projects.
As for me, I’m not affiliated with NPR. My show is funded by CPB, which is the big boss for all Public Broadcasting. What it might affect is my ability in the future to make shows. My development deal runs through 09’, if I am funded in the future by CPB it will depend on a few things, the national economy being one of them. I’m not worried. I’m going to make the best damn show possible and make what I bring to the table essential to the future of public broadcasting. And if they don’t pick up the show, someone else will. The future is bright because the big guy upstairs told me to do the work and let him handle the rest. I can do that.
I have been missing the stage like crazy. With all of the other stuff that’s going on; projects I can talk about (radio) and projects I can’t (shshshsh), I been working my butt off. But no theatre time. It’s driving me a little nutty. I need to get on stage, I need to write for the stage; the feeling I get from both of them is unparalleled. I don’t feel like my theatre career has stalled, but I also don’t think it’s moving at the pace I’d like. But I guess the more important thing is that I can’t control that, what I can control is the work. That sounds clinical when the truth is for me it’s not about making work to advance a career path. It’s about making work because I have a story to tell, something to say. It’s about being in love with the stage, the hot lights, the conversation between me and the audience. I can’t live without it. And so I’m in the midst of working on a new theatre piece. Crumbs.
I’m sure I’ll be writing more about the play here, but in this post I won’t talk about the story itself. This will be the first piece that I’m working with a composer on. It’s a poetical that will use music in a way I haven’t in the past. I’m excited to have a collaborator and though we have not officially decided to work together we are moving in that direction. Very exciting for me, to have someone that can score behind my words because I hear it in my head musically, but mostly I have had to settle for it without music. Irritating. I can’t wait to see and hear how the piece shakes out.
I'm applying for a bunch of fellowships and residencies across the country. I'm excited about the prospects. These things though come and go. You put together a package and then you forget about it. Pray that someone reads it, and gets the work you are looking to do. So we'll see, deep down, I feel like a few of these fellowships are mine. I don't know why but on some of the stuff i submit for, I know before I send off the package that I'm going to get it. Two of them specifically I can feel it. Let's hope that feeling is true.
2008 has been a very good year for me. So personally I feel like things are moving in the right direction. Still it’s hard to be too happy when the economy is falling apart and people all over the country are struggling to pay bills and feed families. The world on a whole is in a tough-tough spot. In the New Year, I of course would like to professionally move forward, but more importantly with all the stuff going on, I want to be apart of the solution. It may be a corny sentiment, but we’ve tried all the other stuff and nothing seems to be working. Personally, I’m going to try and bring what little light I have, I want to be the open palm instead of the closed fist. I’m so tired of the closed fist. So is the rest of the world. May we all wake in a better world tomorrow.
A bunch is going on with me at the close of the year so I thought I’d wrap it up here.
Everyone has been asking me about the cuts at NPR, and wondering if it affects me. Yes and no. I know a lot of good people who got hurt by the cuts at NPR, my “Obi Wan” Doug Mitchell, the staff of New and Notes and a couple other people who have really helped me in this journey through radio have felt the pinch. They are so brilliant at what they do, it sadness me that NPR couldn’t find a way to keep their shows and programs running. Knowing all of these people, I can comfortably say, this will not stop them. It might actually be a blessing. Freeing them to do bigger and bolder projects.
As for me, I’m not affiliated with NPR. My show is funded by CPB, which is the big boss for all Public Broadcasting. What it might affect is my ability in the future to make shows. My development deal runs through 09’, if I am funded in the future by CPB it will depend on a few things, the national economy being one of them. I’m not worried. I’m going to make the best damn show possible and make what I bring to the table essential to the future of public broadcasting. And if they don’t pick up the show, someone else will. The future is bright because the big guy upstairs told me to do the work and let him handle the rest. I can do that.
I have been missing the stage like crazy. With all of the other stuff that’s going on; projects I can talk about (radio) and projects I can’t (shshshsh), I been working my butt off. But no theatre time. It’s driving me a little nutty. I need to get on stage, I need to write for the stage; the feeling I get from both of them is unparalleled. I don’t feel like my theatre career has stalled, but I also don’t think it’s moving at the pace I’d like. But I guess the more important thing is that I can’t control that, what I can control is the work. That sounds clinical when the truth is for me it’s not about making work to advance a career path. It’s about making work because I have a story to tell, something to say. It’s about being in love with the stage, the hot lights, the conversation between me and the audience. I can’t live without it. And so I’m in the midst of working on a new theatre piece. Crumbs.
I’m sure I’ll be writing more about the play here, but in this post I won’t talk about the story itself. This will be the first piece that I’m working with a composer on. It’s a poetical that will use music in a way I haven’t in the past. I’m excited to have a collaborator and though we have not officially decided to work together we are moving in that direction. Very exciting for me, to have someone that can score behind my words because I hear it in my head musically, but mostly I have had to settle for it without music. Irritating. I can’t wait to see and hear how the piece shakes out.
I'm applying for a bunch of fellowships and residencies across the country. I'm excited about the prospects. These things though come and go. You put together a package and then you forget about it. Pray that someone reads it, and gets the work you are looking to do. So we'll see, deep down, I feel like a few of these fellowships are mine. I don't know why but on some of the stuff i submit for, I know before I send off the package that I'm going to get it. Two of them specifically I can feel it. Let's hope that feeling is true.
2008 has been a very good year for me. So personally I feel like things are moving in the right direction. Still it’s hard to be too happy when the economy is falling apart and people all over the country are struggling to pay bills and feed families. The world on a whole is in a tough-tough spot. In the New Year, I of course would like to professionally move forward, but more importantly with all the stuff going on, I want to be apart of the solution. It may be a corny sentiment, but we’ve tried all the other stuff and nothing seems to be working. Personally, I’m going to try and bring what little light I have, I want to be the open palm instead of the closed fist. I’m so tired of the closed fist. So is the rest of the world. May we all wake in a better world tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Back in the Saddle
It’s been a few months since I’ve updated this blog. I promise for the five people who read this it that I will not disappear that long again in the future. So what’s been up with me? A ton. In the last couple months I’ve been to NY, Detroit, Chicago, LA, Ashland, Oregon and Atlanta. Mostly for the radio show but also for some theater stuff.
I’ve been working on the newest episode of State of the Re:UNION: Motor City Rebound. It’s been a while since I put together an episode, actually close to a year ago, so I’d forgotten how intense of a process it can be. Fortunately I have an excellent team. My advisors helped me find the producer of the show Zak Rosen, and I got my old producer Taki Telonidis to be the senior advisor of the show for this episode and hopefully for the entire development process. I think it’s important that Taki stay involved with the program since we made the pilot together. He took all my ideas and gave them shape. I think the concept could stand on it’s own without either Taki or I, I believe together we can put our personal stamp on the program and create something really special. Along with Zak, Willie Evans Jr (the incredible beatmaker)and my business partner, Ian, I think we have a good team.
That however does not mean that everything is easy. Creating an episode is like giving birth. It is giving birth, not the physical pain of course, but the mental strain, the sleepless nights, the joy of seeing the baby for the first time, all of it is the same. Zak and I started working on story ideas in August. Zak had an idea of the story he wanted to tell, I had a different take. We went back and forth for a while, but once I got on the ground in Detroit, I could see the story, and it was much closer to Zak’s vision then mine. Taki listened to our ideas gave us some insight, Ian was excellent logistical support. We did all the field recording in Detroit for about three weeks total. For the two weeks we edited the interviews did a lot of writing, and a lot of polish, and I can finally say it’s done.
Prior to going to Detroit, I was really nervous about what kind of show I’d be creating. I wanted to create something that uplifted people but all I heard about Detroit was negative. I’m writing this two weeks since completing the episode, and still the only things I hear in the news or online are negatives. What’s striking to me is that when I went to Detroit, I found a lot of positives. In the vast space between what you’d normally expect in a city and what they actually have in Detroit, I found that the people are making it happen on their own. They aren’t waiting for the government or outsiders to handle it and save them. Instead they’ve started finding ways to get around the road blocks and create a new model for how a city can work. It’s not perfect. People are hurting, the economy is in shambles, the political structure is struggling and yet when I left the “D” I felt hopeful.
Right before our eyes the world is changing. America as a whole is being challenged in a way it hasn’t in decades. What Detroit taught me, was that beyond all of that are the people. The foundation of this republic and that foundation, while battered and bruised is what will see us through.
If you get a chance check out the episode here:
http://www.stateofthereunion.com/podcasts/motorcityrebound.mp3
I’ve been working on the newest episode of State of the Re:UNION: Motor City Rebound. It’s been a while since I put together an episode, actually close to a year ago, so I’d forgotten how intense of a process it can be. Fortunately I have an excellent team. My advisors helped me find the producer of the show Zak Rosen, and I got my old producer Taki Telonidis to be the senior advisor of the show for this episode and hopefully for the entire development process. I think it’s important that Taki stay involved with the program since we made the pilot together. He took all my ideas and gave them shape. I think the concept could stand on it’s own without either Taki or I, I believe together we can put our personal stamp on the program and create something really special. Along with Zak, Willie Evans Jr (the incredible beatmaker)and my business partner, Ian, I think we have a good team.
That however does not mean that everything is easy. Creating an episode is like giving birth. It is giving birth, not the physical pain of course, but the mental strain, the sleepless nights, the joy of seeing the baby for the first time, all of it is the same. Zak and I started working on story ideas in August. Zak had an idea of the story he wanted to tell, I had a different take. We went back and forth for a while, but once I got on the ground in Detroit, I could see the story, and it was much closer to Zak’s vision then mine. Taki listened to our ideas gave us some insight, Ian was excellent logistical support. We did all the field recording in Detroit for about three weeks total. For the two weeks we edited the interviews did a lot of writing, and a lot of polish, and I can finally say it’s done.
Prior to going to Detroit, I was really nervous about what kind of show I’d be creating. I wanted to create something that uplifted people but all I heard about Detroit was negative. I’m writing this two weeks since completing the episode, and still the only things I hear in the news or online are negatives. What’s striking to me is that when I went to Detroit, I found a lot of positives. In the vast space between what you’d normally expect in a city and what they actually have in Detroit, I found that the people are making it happen on their own. They aren’t waiting for the government or outsiders to handle it and save them. Instead they’ve started finding ways to get around the road blocks and create a new model for how a city can work. It’s not perfect. People are hurting, the economy is in shambles, the political structure is struggling and yet when I left the “D” I felt hopeful.
Right before our eyes the world is changing. America as a whole is being challenged in a way it hasn’t in decades. What Detroit taught me, was that beyond all of that are the people. The foundation of this republic and that foundation, while battered and bruised is what will see us through.
If you get a chance check out the episode here:
http://www.stateofthereunion.com/podcasts/motorcityrebound.mp3
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Pro-Life
Dear Blog readers. First forgive me for taking so long to update this blog. In the near future you will be sick of reading all the post I’ll be putting up. Big things happening, and I’ve got a ton to talk about. But today it doesn’t feel appropriate. I, like most of the nation have spent the last couple weeks engrossed with politics, the conventions, the protest, the speeches, the candidates… After a while it all becomes white noise blaring in the background of life. Today that white noise seemed to roar a little louder in my ear then normal.
I’m working on an hour long radio documentary about violence in my home town Jacksonville Florida. My goal is to work from the bottom up. To talk to the people who experience the violence first hand, and try and understand where it comes from. Most of Jacksonville is a pretty peaceful place. But one area of town the Eastside/Springfield and parts of the Northside are plagued with violence. These parts of town are economically depressed and primarily African-American. As the rest of the city marches to the beat of the Florida sun, young people are dieing and killing each other.
If you read this blog at all, or know my work then you know I’ve got some roots in this community from my work at the Sanctuary on 8th street. I’ve been volunteering/working there for three years now, and I have a real connection with the kids there. As apart of the series I’m working on, I went back to the Sanctuary to interview one of the boys, Biko. Biko is one of the brightest kids I know. He’s got this big open smile, and always willing to help out. At 16, Biko has been shot at more then four times and hit twice. When we sat down to talk, Biko’s leg was bandaged from a gun shot wound to his knee. He was much skinnier then I’d last seen and it was obvious that the whole incident weighed heavy on him. But he still had a big smile and hug for me.
When Biko got shot this time, he was at a store talking to a friend, a car rolled by and shot him in the leg. He didn’t know who the shooter was, and no one knows for sure why he was shot. Most assume it was mistaken identity. Image that, you are minding your business, getting a soda from the store, and someone shoots you in the leg. What’s ironic about Biko’s existence is that he’s an immigrant from Africa. He moved with his family from the Congo to America to escape the wars. With the sound of gun shots breaking the silence of the night, I can’t help but wonder what the differences there are between the war he is currently fighting, and the wars his parents tried to protect him from. This is Biko’s reality. It’s not a movie. It’s not made up, it’s life and death every day in a way most of us can’t image.
Through the interview Biko keeps smiling. When I ask him where he will be in five years he says, without a smile, lowering his voice, “Probably dead… or in jail” There is such certainty in his words, the type of certainty that a grown man has from the hard experiences of life. We talked about life on the street, police harassment, having no opportunities, no hope. When we were done with the interview I struggled to not weep. I know that must sound melodramatic, but the truth is at 16 and two bullet wounds already, what kind of life is waiting for him outside that door? Most of you will never know Biko, so you will have to take it from me. He’s the type of kid that lights up any room he’s in. He could be a computer technician, a programmer, a mathematician, a physicist, but most likely he won’t. And yes there are people who can rise up from their bootstraps, but I’d argue that most people who do have much more support then he does.
I watched Biko limp away on crutches, acting like it’s all going to be okay, like what he just said was about someone else and not him. But it’s not. With five siblings, a dead father, an unemployed mother, and a neighborhood in the on the verge of death, where can he go?
It was on my drive home when that the white noise started roaring in my ears. Someone on the radio was talking about the Christian Right, and their Pro-life stand, and it infuriated me. It infuriates me because these same people who scream pro-life will do nothing about the lives being lost in ghettos of America. They stand in their Ivory Churches and protest the loss of life when it’s in the form of an abortion, but turn a blind eye to children like Biko. Is he not sufficient for God’s grace? Does the fact that he is in the ghetto disqualify him from receiving help with the same vigor with which they protest abortion? Of course not all on the Christian Right fall into this category. There are people who come into the ghetto’s everyday and give their heart, but for change to happen Pastors like Rick Warren, James Dobson, TD Jakes, and John Hagee need to mobilize their congregations for the cause of children like Biko, the same way they mobilize them for other causes.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in any way taking sides on the issue of Abortion, I’m just asking why the need to defend life doesn’t extend to the life already here. Why it is acceptable to have a rash of violence where young people are the victims? What have they done that makes it okay for them to die? I think people tend to think that people living in poverty are there because they deserve it. I do not agree with that concept but I won’t argue the point, what I will argue is if that is true, do their kids deserve it?
Please don’t point to the government programs. They obviously don’t work, or there would be no need to write this post. I think the Christian Right needs to ask themselves What would Jesus do? I don’t identify myself with that group. I’m only asking them the same questions I’ve asked myself. I am not perfect, I don’t profess to have a direct line with God, or that I am his messenger and know his will. But when I ask myself the question that the Christian Right has begged us to ask, the answer I come up with is this: He’d help the poor. He’d help the children. He’d try to save people without judgment in his heart, because it’s the right thing to do.
I’m working on an hour long radio documentary about violence in my home town Jacksonville Florida. My goal is to work from the bottom up. To talk to the people who experience the violence first hand, and try and understand where it comes from. Most of Jacksonville is a pretty peaceful place. But one area of town the Eastside/Springfield and parts of the Northside are plagued with violence. These parts of town are economically depressed and primarily African-American. As the rest of the city marches to the beat of the Florida sun, young people are dieing and killing each other.
If you read this blog at all, or know my work then you know I’ve got some roots in this community from my work at the Sanctuary on 8th street. I’ve been volunteering/working there for three years now, and I have a real connection with the kids there. As apart of the series I’m working on, I went back to the Sanctuary to interview one of the boys, Biko. Biko is one of the brightest kids I know. He’s got this big open smile, and always willing to help out. At 16, Biko has been shot at more then four times and hit twice. When we sat down to talk, Biko’s leg was bandaged from a gun shot wound to his knee. He was much skinnier then I’d last seen and it was obvious that the whole incident weighed heavy on him. But he still had a big smile and hug for me.
When Biko got shot this time, he was at a store talking to a friend, a car rolled by and shot him in the leg. He didn’t know who the shooter was, and no one knows for sure why he was shot. Most assume it was mistaken identity. Image that, you are minding your business, getting a soda from the store, and someone shoots you in the leg. What’s ironic about Biko’s existence is that he’s an immigrant from Africa. He moved with his family from the Congo to America to escape the wars. With the sound of gun shots breaking the silence of the night, I can’t help but wonder what the differences there are between the war he is currently fighting, and the wars his parents tried to protect him from. This is Biko’s reality. It’s not a movie. It’s not made up, it’s life and death every day in a way most of us can’t image.
Through the interview Biko keeps smiling. When I ask him where he will be in five years he says, without a smile, lowering his voice, “Probably dead… or in jail” There is such certainty in his words, the type of certainty that a grown man has from the hard experiences of life. We talked about life on the street, police harassment, having no opportunities, no hope. When we were done with the interview I struggled to not weep. I know that must sound melodramatic, but the truth is at 16 and two bullet wounds already, what kind of life is waiting for him outside that door? Most of you will never know Biko, so you will have to take it from me. He’s the type of kid that lights up any room he’s in. He could be a computer technician, a programmer, a mathematician, a physicist, but most likely he won’t. And yes there are people who can rise up from their bootstraps, but I’d argue that most people who do have much more support then he does.
I watched Biko limp away on crutches, acting like it’s all going to be okay, like what he just said was about someone else and not him. But it’s not. With five siblings, a dead father, an unemployed mother, and a neighborhood in the on the verge of death, where can he go?
It was on my drive home when that the white noise started roaring in my ears. Someone on the radio was talking about the Christian Right, and their Pro-life stand, and it infuriated me. It infuriates me because these same people who scream pro-life will do nothing about the lives being lost in ghettos of America. They stand in their Ivory Churches and protest the loss of life when it’s in the form of an abortion, but turn a blind eye to children like Biko. Is he not sufficient for God’s grace? Does the fact that he is in the ghetto disqualify him from receiving help with the same vigor with which they protest abortion? Of course not all on the Christian Right fall into this category. There are people who come into the ghetto’s everyday and give their heart, but for change to happen Pastors like Rick Warren, James Dobson, TD Jakes, and John Hagee need to mobilize their congregations for the cause of children like Biko, the same way they mobilize them for other causes.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in any way taking sides on the issue of Abortion, I’m just asking why the need to defend life doesn’t extend to the life already here. Why it is acceptable to have a rash of violence where young people are the victims? What have they done that makes it okay for them to die? I think people tend to think that people living in poverty are there because they deserve it. I do not agree with that concept but I won’t argue the point, what I will argue is if that is true, do their kids deserve it?
Please don’t point to the government programs. They obviously don’t work, or there would be no need to write this post. I think the Christian Right needs to ask themselves What would Jesus do? I don’t identify myself with that group. I’m only asking them the same questions I’ve asked myself. I am not perfect, I don’t profess to have a direct line with God, or that I am his messenger and know his will. But when I ask myself the question that the Christian Right has begged us to ask, the answer I come up with is this: He’d help the poor. He’d help the children. He’d try to save people without judgment in his heart, because it’s the right thing to do.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Repackaging Racism
Jesse Helms died recently, and the press and politicians have been clamoring to pat him on the back. I’ve heard things like he, “He stood for something” and that he was a hard charging politician that stood for something.
What they don’t say is that he stood for racism. He stood for me not being equal to other folks. He blocked every civil rights bill that came before him, and had nothing but disgust for the people fighting for the right to be equal.
The flags are flying at half mass in his home state. I can’t help but wonder what the reaction would be if say, Louis Farrakhan had died and black politicians made similar comments about him?
Sometimes America makes me sad. I’m sad that politicians praise an outwardly racist man, and can’t deal with the truth. I’m sad for all the black people in his state that was supposedly represented by this man in the Senate. I’m sad for Jesse Helms, sad that his entire life, he had an evil cancer of hate in his heart. I’m sad that another human being, no matter how much he may have disliked me has passed.
I will not dance on his grave, but I will also not pretend he was something other then what he was; a small man of huge limitations, that allowed his hate to run his life. May God have mercy on his soul and may he have mercy on mine as well.
What they don’t say is that he stood for racism. He stood for me not being equal to other folks. He blocked every civil rights bill that came before him, and had nothing but disgust for the people fighting for the right to be equal.
The flags are flying at half mass in his home state. I can’t help but wonder what the reaction would be if say, Louis Farrakhan had died and black politicians made similar comments about him?
Sometimes America makes me sad. I’m sad that politicians praise an outwardly racist man, and can’t deal with the truth. I’m sad for all the black people in his state that was supposedly represented by this man in the Senate. I’m sad for Jesse Helms, sad that his entire life, he had an evil cancer of hate in his heart. I’m sad that another human being, no matter how much he may have disliked me has passed.
I will not dance on his grave, but I will also not pretend he was something other then what he was; a small man of huge limitations, that allowed his hate to run his life. May God have mercy on his soul and may he have mercy on mine as well.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
State of the Re:UNION Coming to a Public Radio Station near you!
So this is it. For those of you who never heard of the Public Radio Talent Quest, State of the Re:UNION, or of Al Letson, here’s a quick primer. My name is Al Letson, I’m a playwright, performance poet, actor, director, and a few other titles, I won’t bore you with. I’ve been working as an artist professionally for about 10 years, doing any gig that can pay the bills. I started as a Slam Poet, and still very much consider myself one, even though I don’t actually slam anymore. A year ago (April 07), I was looking up the results of American Idol, which I don’t even watch, but I was curious for some strange reason. When I googled American Idol something entitled Public Radio’s American Idol popped up. I click on the link and found out that the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) was looking for new host, and new ideas. I love Public Radio, and figured what the hell.
I entered the contest with 1400 other folks, and with nine other contestants was chosen as a semi finalist. The ten of us, had to go through some pretty strenuous tasks to get to the finish line, along the way, the contestants got pared down to three, and the top three of us, where given funding to make a pilot. Here is where the plot thickens. CPB created two contests to find host: Public Radio Talent Quest run but The Public Radio Xchange (PRX), and Launch productions. I don’t know much about LAUNCH. The way it was described to me is that PRX took the grassroots approach, whereas LAUNCH took the top down model and contacted people who were in Media/celebrities of a sort to have their own shows. Each contest was given funding to create three pilots, and those pilots would vie for their own show. Out of the six, the conventional wisdom was that CPB would pick two.
After a year of competing and a whole lot of waiting, CPB informed me that my show State of the Re:UNION, was chosen as one of the winners. They’d decided to award three shows total. Two from PRX, mine and Glynn Washington’s Snap Judgment, and one from LAUNCH, The Promise Land with host Majora Carter (whom I have not met, but have been a huge fan of for years).
What does all this mean? In the history of Public Broadcasting State of the Re:Union will be one of the first shows ever given this opportunity. For the next year CPB will allow me to develop the program, find out what works, get my footing as a host, and make some killer shows. At the end of that process, you’ll be hearing the show on your public radio station next to Public Radio giants like Ira Glass and Garrison Keillor. I’m honored to have this opportunity. I’d like to give thank you’s in this blog, but there are too many to name. Rest assured if you’ve helped on this journey, you will be personally hearing from me. The staff of SOTRU, and myself will be posting on this blog to from time to time to give you an inside scoop on the progress of the show. It should be a wild and fun ride, so fasten your seatbelt, adjust your seatbacks to full upright position and prepare for take off.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
A match made in Heaven
Usually I don’t post silly things on my blog. My brother Jamel tells me I’m a bore and corny-as-hell cause I’m not that serious in real life. He might be right. I’ll be posting some other news here, FINALLY today or tomorrow or so, BUT today I was trolling around the internet, and I found a video of my girlfriend on line professing her love for me…… Okay maybe she’s not my girlfriend….. And maybe she’s not professing her love for me specifically… BUT it’s a coded message. You just gotta know how to read it!
See! She loves me. Don't hate congratulate.
See! She loves me. Don't hate congratulate.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A love song for my mother
A love song for my mother.
My mom will tell you I never write about her and I guess I don’t. We’ve had difficulties in our relationship. Mostly because we are too much a like, stubborn, opinionated, fire-in-belly, and not shy to show it. Two people like that always seem to bump heads. I love my mother. Deeply. She loves me deeply. But we always find away to not connect the dots between us. There is no big reveal here. She was, is, and always will be, a great parent. I have friends with mothers who are the exact opposite, and I thank God for my mother.
Lately I’ve found a way to keep us centered. I don’t argue with her about things that she says that I disagree with. I want to, but sometimes the best thing you can do is to shut up. I guess that was the problem when I was younger. I always wanted to be heard, always need to have the last word. The older I get the more interested I become in listening.
I don’t think I ever thought about our relationship much in the last couple years. Just kind of maintained. Not to say we didn’t have our ups and downs in that period, but I haven’t fully examined it. And then a couple months ago I saw Passing Strange on Broadway, and it all came back to me. All the anger, self-righteousness, the resentment. I look back on all those petty feelings and realize that my whole relationship with my mother has been framed by the mind of a teenaged kid. That many of the decisions I made in my life that my mother vocally disagreed with were decisions of child that have impacted me as an adult, and she knew it. Of course she did, cause she’s dealing with her own. I don’t know what hers are, but I know we all face them.
After I saw Passing Strange, I realized that the tough spots in our relationship came because she loves me, cause she wants the best for me. It’s such a Hallmark sentiment, something that I the introspective poet should have picked up on a long time ago. But we all got our own blind spots, and I guess this was one of mine. I think it’s gotta be hard for a parent to have a child like me. Especially from my mother’s generation. In her mind the man went to work got a good job, pension, and raised his family. He didn’t go off and decide to travel the country to recite poems. She grew up with 3 brothers two of which became alcoholics, and never lived up to their potential. I think my chosen lifestyle must have scared the hell out of her, probably still does.
Through my childhood she could be tough on me. When I got older, she was even tougher. No coddling, nothing. I always felt because I couldn’t live up to my father’s example, she just didn’t love me. I was never going to be a Baptist preacher. I was never going to be able to live in the 9 to 5 world. All I could do is me. Because of all that heavy stuff I use to think she didn’t support me. For years I held this idea in my heart that one day, I would show her. Show her that I am somebody. That my art has value. That I have something to say. That in some ways I am like my dad, we just are talking to different congregations. For years I wanted to tell her, I’m not the person she thinks I am. That I’m not some selfish artist that doesn’t care about anyone else. ‘Cause I’m not. For years I wanted her to see the real me. That was one of the motivations that pushed me on to prove to her.
One day I was so mad at her, I needed vent, so I stopped by my friend, Keith house. Keith is close to twenty years older then me and for the last five years has become somewhat of an Uncle to me. We were sitting on his porch and he patiently listened to me. He looked down at the floor and said, “Sounds like your right on this one”. Before I could pat myself on the back he said “But she’s the only mother you got. You know what I’d give to talk to my mother?” It struck me then. You only get one shot with most of the people in your life. When they are gone they are gone.
The lead in Passing Strange takes a similar journey. I’m listening to the soundtrack now and it’s all coming back to me. This week I stand on the verge of some really excellent professional possibilities on several different fronts, somewhat of a milestone year. I can’t wait till the ink is dry on all of these deals to tell the world. I thought at this point I would feel some sort of vindication. Like I could finally tell my mother, see I was right! I thought I would feel validation, that I’d see her and gloat over it. I realize how foolish I was. What I feel now, is this overwhelming desire to ask her forgiveness. For all those stupid things I thought, the dumb things I’ve said, the heartbreak I put her through. I want to thank her, because she was the one that prepared me for all the obstacles I have to face. She never did it in spite she did it because that’s what a parent does for a child. All the times I thought she wasn’t supporting me, she was making me strong so I could support myself.
My mother will tell you I never write about her. But that’s not true, she’s behind every word, she just never took the credit.
I love you mommy
My mom will tell you I never write about her and I guess I don’t. We’ve had difficulties in our relationship. Mostly because we are too much a like, stubborn, opinionated, fire-in-belly, and not shy to show it. Two people like that always seem to bump heads. I love my mother. Deeply. She loves me deeply. But we always find away to not connect the dots between us. There is no big reveal here. She was, is, and always will be, a great parent. I have friends with mothers who are the exact opposite, and I thank God for my mother.
Lately I’ve found a way to keep us centered. I don’t argue with her about things that she says that I disagree with. I want to, but sometimes the best thing you can do is to shut up. I guess that was the problem when I was younger. I always wanted to be heard, always need to have the last word. The older I get the more interested I become in listening.
I don’t think I ever thought about our relationship much in the last couple years. Just kind of maintained. Not to say we didn’t have our ups and downs in that period, but I haven’t fully examined it. And then a couple months ago I saw Passing Strange on Broadway, and it all came back to me. All the anger, self-righteousness, the resentment. I look back on all those petty feelings and realize that my whole relationship with my mother has been framed by the mind of a teenaged kid. That many of the decisions I made in my life that my mother vocally disagreed with were decisions of child that have impacted me as an adult, and she knew it. Of course she did, cause she’s dealing with her own. I don’t know what hers are, but I know we all face them.
After I saw Passing Strange, I realized that the tough spots in our relationship came because she loves me, cause she wants the best for me. It’s such a Hallmark sentiment, something that I the introspective poet should have picked up on a long time ago. But we all got our own blind spots, and I guess this was one of mine. I think it’s gotta be hard for a parent to have a child like me. Especially from my mother’s generation. In her mind the man went to work got a good job, pension, and raised his family. He didn’t go off and decide to travel the country to recite poems. She grew up with 3 brothers two of which became alcoholics, and never lived up to their potential. I think my chosen lifestyle must have scared the hell out of her, probably still does.
Through my childhood she could be tough on me. When I got older, she was even tougher. No coddling, nothing. I always felt because I couldn’t live up to my father’s example, she just didn’t love me. I was never going to be a Baptist preacher. I was never going to be able to live in the 9 to 5 world. All I could do is me. Because of all that heavy stuff I use to think she didn’t support me. For years I held this idea in my heart that one day, I would show her. Show her that I am somebody. That my art has value. That I have something to say. That in some ways I am like my dad, we just are talking to different congregations. For years I wanted to tell her, I’m not the person she thinks I am. That I’m not some selfish artist that doesn’t care about anyone else. ‘Cause I’m not. For years I wanted her to see the real me. That was one of the motivations that pushed me on to prove to her.
One day I was so mad at her, I needed vent, so I stopped by my friend, Keith house. Keith is close to twenty years older then me and for the last five years has become somewhat of an Uncle to me. We were sitting on his porch and he patiently listened to me. He looked down at the floor and said, “Sounds like your right on this one”. Before I could pat myself on the back he said “But she’s the only mother you got. You know what I’d give to talk to my mother?” It struck me then. You only get one shot with most of the people in your life. When they are gone they are gone.
The lead in Passing Strange takes a similar journey. I’m listening to the soundtrack now and it’s all coming back to me. This week I stand on the verge of some really excellent professional possibilities on several different fronts, somewhat of a milestone year. I can’t wait till the ink is dry on all of these deals to tell the world. I thought at this point I would feel some sort of vindication. Like I could finally tell my mother, see I was right! I thought I would feel validation, that I’d see her and gloat over it. I realize how foolish I was. What I feel now, is this overwhelming desire to ask her forgiveness. For all those stupid things I thought, the dumb things I’ve said, the heartbreak I put her through. I want to thank her, because she was the one that prepared me for all the obstacles I have to face. She never did it in spite she did it because that’s what a parent does for a child. All the times I thought she wasn’t supporting me, she was making me strong so I could support myself.
My mother will tell you I never write about her. But that’s not true, she’s behind every word, she just never took the credit.
I love you mommy
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Perspective
The worse thing about performing is when its over. For me, it leaves a big hole. When I’m on stage I feel a certain magic, very specific to that place. I never want to let go of it. And then the show is over and I’m in this funk from missing it. So here I am in Funk City.
We put Summer in Sanctuary up at Theater Jacksonville this weekend. We got decent turn out, and people told me they really enjoyed the show. I’ve said this in previous blogs, but people have responded to this piece more then anything else I’ve done. I’m honored, and now feeling a little empty because I’m missing the stage, and worried about the future of the play.
I love my home city because I get to work on material here, and it’s a great place to raise kids, but for my career, it’s a tough sell. I don’t get to network, and people that could help me don’t get to see my work. So I sit here at the end of a very short run, and I don’t know what to do. I go through this stage after every show. The question of what’s next? The answer is I have no idea. I know the show will be in Detroit in October, I’m excited by that, but October seems so far away. I wanna do it tomorrow. One of my personal goals in life is to win an Obie. The Obie is the equivalent of an off Broadway Oscar. The key for me getting an Obie would be to perform off Broadway, in NYC. With the current status of the play, I don’t see that happening. I’m not saying it won’t just saying that getting an off Broadway run for a relative unknown, is not an easy sell.
Today in the midst of stewing over all of this, and feeling somewhat melancholy, I found out I had to pay a bill that I shouldn’t have had to pay. That sentences is intentionally vague. Anyway, when I went to pay the bill, I ran into a young lady broke down in the parking lot. I helped her jump her vehicle, and no dice the truck wasn’t moving. I was going to leave her there after that, but she started crying and said her 80 year old Grandmother was with her (she was standing outside the building, in the hot Florida sun). I felt bad for her and gave them both a ride across town. As we drove the more the young lady talked the more I could tell the car breaking down was just another mishap pushing her over the edge. She’s had a hard life, some by the choices she’s made some just by circumstance. She was scared I was going to judge her, but I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, I have no right to judge anyone. I told her that and she seemed to become a little more comfortable. Her grandmother sat in the back of the car having an in depth conversation with my youngest Aiden, about dogs and other important things 3 year olds like to talk about.
We got to their house and the Grandmother was so sweet instructing me to come back and not be a stranger, but when the young lady got out the car she was crying, feeling like her life was falling apart. I grabbed her hand and told her, “This to shall pass. You go through rough times, to get to the good” She smiled at me briefly, then walked into her house.
I drove away and thought a lot about her, and her life and the troubles she might not ever escape. I thought about my own problems and while my feelings of emptiness was still there, but it was easier to look at it for what it is. I don’t have half the money I need, it’s hard making a living as an artist, but my struggle is nothing compared to many. Doesn’t change the fact that I want an Obie, doesn’t invalidate that desire, just puts it in perspective.
We put Summer in Sanctuary up at Theater Jacksonville this weekend. We got decent turn out, and people told me they really enjoyed the show. I’ve said this in previous blogs, but people have responded to this piece more then anything else I’ve done. I’m honored, and now feeling a little empty because I’m missing the stage, and worried about the future of the play.
I love my home city because I get to work on material here, and it’s a great place to raise kids, but for my career, it’s a tough sell. I don’t get to network, and people that could help me don’t get to see my work. So I sit here at the end of a very short run, and I don’t know what to do. I go through this stage after every show. The question of what’s next? The answer is I have no idea. I know the show will be in Detroit in October, I’m excited by that, but October seems so far away. I wanna do it tomorrow. One of my personal goals in life is to win an Obie. The Obie is the equivalent of an off Broadway Oscar. The key for me getting an Obie would be to perform off Broadway, in NYC. With the current status of the play, I don’t see that happening. I’m not saying it won’t just saying that getting an off Broadway run for a relative unknown, is not an easy sell.
Today in the midst of stewing over all of this, and feeling somewhat melancholy, I found out I had to pay a bill that I shouldn’t have had to pay. That sentences is intentionally vague. Anyway, when I went to pay the bill, I ran into a young lady broke down in the parking lot. I helped her jump her vehicle, and no dice the truck wasn’t moving. I was going to leave her there after that, but she started crying and said her 80 year old Grandmother was with her (she was standing outside the building, in the hot Florida sun). I felt bad for her and gave them both a ride across town. As we drove the more the young lady talked the more I could tell the car breaking down was just another mishap pushing her over the edge. She’s had a hard life, some by the choices she’s made some just by circumstance. She was scared I was going to judge her, but I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, I have no right to judge anyone. I told her that and she seemed to become a little more comfortable. Her grandmother sat in the back of the car having an in depth conversation with my youngest Aiden, about dogs and other important things 3 year olds like to talk about.
We got to their house and the Grandmother was so sweet instructing me to come back and not be a stranger, but when the young lady got out the car she was crying, feeling like her life was falling apart. I grabbed her hand and told her, “This to shall pass. You go through rough times, to get to the good” She smiled at me briefly, then walked into her house.
I drove away and thought a lot about her, and her life and the troubles she might not ever escape. I thought about my own problems and while my feelings of emptiness was still there, but it was easier to look at it for what it is. I don’t have half the money I need, it’s hard making a living as an artist, but my struggle is nothing compared to many. Doesn’t change the fact that I want an Obie, doesn’t invalidate that desire, just puts it in perspective.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
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