Sunday, November 8, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Uncharted Dopeness
When coupled, these words present a problem and product of today's hip hop. As a recent attendee and contributor to the Art Beats + Lyrics annual gallery showcase, I wonder how long the afterglow of such a crossover event will last? The event has metamorphosed from its beginning at the High Museum of Art to its most recent location at the W Hotel.Co-founders Jabari Graham and Dubelyoo are using flashbulb miracle grow.
But what happens to Atlanta's incredible potluck of creative genius after the gala lights go dim and another week of trolling Castleberry ends up at MJQ? If prints aren't sold and your secret obsession with hip hop culture doesn't translate into a lushly spray painted mural then the incubated talent returns to preaching dopeness to the choir. Bboys and girls still break, real singers still gleam off rhinestones from commercial R&B, and the painters and djs mix colors and sounds for our chemically dependent palates. The process continues as more hipsters emerge from photoblog sites, the land of ego, claiming to slang the newest nuclear threat to those without ambition, sex, and spiritually - all on a graphic tee, in slim jeans, sporting spectral sneakers.
"Let the liquor tell it"
Black in America 2 did a fair job in displaying the multi-layered levels of Black thought, society, and process (emphasis on fair). Again, what happens to the characters after the cameras are switched off and the talents they employ return to just that, abilities? What becomes of our beloved superheroes if there isn't another episode next week? Same bat time, same bat channel, but no batman. To put it another way, if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to see it, does it make a sound... follow?
Without getting into the discussion about why talents aren't maximized or why one is more successful than another, I'll focus on the "Uncharted Dopness," those who manifest their very best but, don't make the ATL-List and blast off to inking a deal with (insert mogul here).
ATLanta has plenty of stars. Atlantis is a city born of starlight and tidal sways of passion, process, and progress.
For Example: On any given Sunday, Apache Cafe and Java Monkey host poetic open mics... As a former designated driver on the poetic highway, I've heard THE TRUTH in all its candid gore and abstraction leaking amniotic fluid on stages... It's amazing to behold! I bear witness to b-boy's grandeur on beer splattered floors and saw a flautist revert hip hop to straight ahead jazz. Singers still summon purple clouds to spill their guts. It's sickening.
Bottom line, moments like Prince's "Purple Rain" still occur. Black Love and hip hop aren't dead...just invisible, and in some almost forgotten corners of the world, truth prevails. There is a religion to this shit. If you don't know what you're looking for then you won't find shit. But, to those still digging in life's crates, there are more than enough enchanted jewels to raise Atlantis.
So, give an independent artist a try if they REALLY MOVE you. Ask who is still making beats (though the craze may be dying down as reality hits or misses so called "producers"), eat at a family owned restaurant, cop some couture, and you too can be a trend setter.
Seek your creative best and ye shall find... uncharted dopeness.
But what happens to Atlanta's incredible potluck of creative genius after the gala lights go dim and another week of trolling Castleberry ends up at MJQ? If prints aren't sold and your secret obsession with hip hop culture doesn't translate into a lushly spray painted mural then the incubated talent returns to preaching dopeness to the choir. Bboys and girls still break, real singers still gleam off rhinestones from commercial R&B, and the painters and djs mix colors and sounds for our chemically dependent palates. The process continues as more hipsters emerge from photoblog sites, the land of ego, claiming to slang the newest nuclear threat to those without ambition, sex, and spiritually - all on a graphic tee, in slim jeans, sporting spectral sneakers.
"Let the liquor tell it"
Black in America 2 did a fair job in displaying the multi-layered levels of Black thought, society, and process (emphasis on fair). Again, what happens to the characters after the cameras are switched off and the talents they employ return to just that, abilities? What becomes of our beloved superheroes if there isn't another episode next week? Same bat time, same bat channel, but no batman. To put it another way, if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to see it, does it make a sound... follow?
Without getting into the discussion about why talents aren't maximized or why one is more successful than another, I'll focus on the "Uncharted Dopness," those who manifest their very best but, don't make the ATL-List and blast off to inking a deal with (insert mogul here).
ATLanta has plenty of stars. Atlantis is a city born of starlight and tidal sways of passion, process, and progress.
For Example: On any given Sunday, Apache Cafe and Java Monkey host poetic open mics... As a former designated driver on the poetic highway, I've heard THE TRUTH in all its candid gore and abstraction leaking amniotic fluid on stages... It's amazing to behold! I bear witness to b-boy's grandeur on beer splattered floors and saw a flautist revert hip hop to straight ahead jazz. Singers still summon purple clouds to spill their guts. It's sickening.
Bottom line, moments like Prince's "Purple Rain" still occur. Black Love and hip hop aren't dead...just invisible, and in some almost forgotten corners of the world, truth prevails. There is a religion to this shit. If you don't know what you're looking for then you won't find shit. But, to those still digging in life's crates, there are more than enough enchanted jewels to raise Atlantis.
So, give an independent artist a try if they REALLY MOVE you. Ask who is still making beats (though the craze may be dying down as reality hits or misses so called "producers"), eat at a family owned restaurant, cop some couture, and you too can be a trend setter.
Seek your creative best and ye shall find... uncharted dopeness.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Getting Close
The interview went great. Now you know there is more to the story but overall I am VERY proud of myself!
The trend echoed by the Universe continued during my recent trip to St. Augustine for an interview for PT School. Part of my dream is actualized by making it to this point in the process of becoming a doctor of physical therapy.
It started early friday morning (july 31). Coffee was made by a hostel resident who'd gotten up about 6:15AM. By, 6:40 I was on a lil jog through the neighborhood to wear off some of the jitters from percolated coffee beans and nerves.
I arrived to campus early and was delighted to have the picture requested of me in the interview announcement sent to me via e-mail a month prior. 8:30 rolled around and people trickled in over the thirty minutes allotted before the day's events started.
Founder/Owner Stanley Paris was graciously on-hand to give opening remarks welcoming we potentials of his Physical and Occupational Therapy School.
Two current professors answered questions about each respective program. To my surprise, I received a wave from one of the speakers who recognized me from my sit-in her Neurology class! Wow, the same two professors from the class I happened to observe! Coolness!
After a tour of the campus by two female students, it was essay time. I opened the "top secret" envelope and picked up a pre-sharpened pencil. I composed a perfectly academic 5-paragraph essay. Whew!
last was the interview. An African sounding (and looking) professor greeted my arrival to his office and the questioning began somewhat casually with him asking we three interviewees, "So, are you nervous? If so, why?"
Though the outcome is out of my hands, I left the interview feeling I'd put both my best feet forward.
I am coming close to my goal... "let's meet!"
-delano :c)
The trend echoed by the Universe continued during my recent trip to St. Augustine for an interview for PT School. Part of my dream is actualized by making it to this point in the process of becoming a doctor of physical therapy.
It started early friday morning (july 31). Coffee was made by a hostel resident who'd gotten up about 6:15AM. By, 6:40 I was on a lil jog through the neighborhood to wear off some of the jitters from percolated coffee beans and nerves.
I arrived to campus early and was delighted to have the picture requested of me in the interview announcement sent to me via e-mail a month prior. 8:30 rolled around and people trickled in over the thirty minutes allotted before the day's events started.
Founder/Owner Stanley Paris was graciously on-hand to give opening remarks welcoming we potentials of his Physical and Occupational Therapy School.
Two current professors answered questions about each respective program. To my surprise, I received a wave from one of the speakers who recognized me from my sit-in her Neurology class! Wow, the same two professors from the class I happened to observe! Coolness!
After a tour of the campus by two female students, it was essay time. I opened the "top secret" envelope and picked up a pre-sharpened pencil. I composed a perfectly academic 5-paragraph essay. Whew!
last was the interview. An African sounding (and looking) professor greeted my arrival to his office and the questioning began somewhat casually with him asking we three interviewees, "So, are you nervous? If so, why?"
Though the outcome is out of my hands, I left the interview feeling I'd put both my best feet forward.
I am coming close to my goal... "let's meet!"
-delano :c)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Choose Your Own Adventure
If you want to look for treasure turn to page 37.
If you want to wait for the storm to end turn to page 92.
As a child I distinctly remember "Coose Your Own Adventure" books. These delightful books not only created a wonderful fantasy, but allowed for its readers to play an integral part of the plot development. I'd make a decision, turn the pages quickly and eagerly absorb the fate of the protagonist... Sometimes the "treasure" lead me to be attacked by "pirates" and I'd lose some valuable time or resources on my quest. I'd turn back to the decision-making page and try the second option and turn the pages, with some relief that this fate would at least be different, if not better, than the first outcome.
However, in life, we are not always so fortunate to go back and amend our past mistakes or poor decisions so effortlessly...
A fair approach seems to create as many memories to base future decisions off of. Also the use of breadcrumbs or Polaroids as a trail of reminders can help when trying to find your way back home...
As an adventure seeking, patient, and optimistic person, I'm determined to enjoy life before and after each crossroads. True there are consequences for chosing one path over another, but that's life! I proceed with confident caution. Stay tuned for more unfolding events, as the pages turn!
-dniceness (ooh i like that, d niceness!)
If you want to wait for the storm to end turn to page 92.
As a child I distinctly remember "Coose Your Own Adventure" books. These delightful books not only created a wonderful fantasy, but allowed for its readers to play an integral part of the plot development. I'd make a decision, turn the pages quickly and eagerly absorb the fate of the protagonist... Sometimes the "treasure" lead me to be attacked by "pirates" and I'd lose some valuable time or resources on my quest. I'd turn back to the decision-making page and try the second option and turn the pages, with some relief that this fate would at least be different, if not better, than the first outcome.
However, in life, we are not always so fortunate to go back and amend our past mistakes or poor decisions so effortlessly...
A fair approach seems to create as many memories to base future decisions off of. Also the use of breadcrumbs or Polaroids as a trail of reminders can help when trying to find your way back home...
As an adventure seeking, patient, and optimistic person, I'm determined to enjoy life before and after each crossroads. True there are consequences for chosing one path over another, but that's life! I proceed with confident caution. Stay tuned for more unfolding events, as the pages turn!
-dniceness (ooh i like that, d niceness!)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The Funk of 40,000 years
Even in death Michael united the planet. That proves who the Baddest is and will ever be. He shared 40 years of his life with us. He defined icon. His brand ranks next to Jesus as a globally recognizable figure; a class that includes Santa Claus...
Michael Jackson was a gift from God. I consider it a blessing to live during the reign of the King of Popular who encouraged me to look at myself, love deeply, and care for those forgotten about or without voice. He was childlike. He was a witness for Jehovah.
He was the child star who grew into an international obsession. He awakened our desires to stare at a train wreck. He gave the world uncompromising vision that I compare to humanitarians like Gandhi or Mother Theresa. By consolidating the elements of human entertainment: song, dance, acting, appeal, and "faint factor," Michael was inhuman while he walked (backwards) on this earth. His unexpected departure came at a time when underground apparition Jay Electronica was one of few modern entertainers to express sympathy to Michael's mercurial lifestyle.
I believe Michael's actions, though controversial, were right for Michael. Not even the brightest of stars possessed the tear-jerking draw of Michael Jackson... and his death and the international outcry that followed was pure testament that through his God-given talents, his purpose was to connect us. To manifest a harmonic, gyrating, and soul stirring ether that had no boundaries. And he was the vessel chosen by our Creator to deliver powerful messages that crossed generational, ethnic, and musical expectations.
On June 25, 2009, I stood in my parent's driveway, anticipating my own birthday a few minutes later on the 26th. "Human Nature" majestically flowed from my ipod headphones. As the emotional song sparkled in my conscious mind, I had a moment where I acknowledged the global anguish and triumph of our greatest performer's final curtain call.
He had 50 shows in London that were to be his last. Imagine the dollar signs lodged in the eyes of many who wanted their piece of the action. He was an exploited genius. He lived to see his own brand become one of the most recognizable on the planet.
his music stands as an immeasurable contribution to contemporary Black entertainment laced with heart breaking controversy. He brought America's color divide to a song where each could be proud to feel. His smile arose from the most genuine parts of the human experience. His voice gushed with candy and gold.
"sing a simple melody, that's how easy love can be"_ABC
it was 11:30. I stood with many in awe of his departure and my own memory of his music and dance. I felt his kaleidescope aura and influence spread across the vastness of space above planet Earth. His star power reached across the solar system. He was truly international, a universal figure in the pantheon of world music. He had no classification and held the title of King of Popular...
his face wore the scars of personal control in a world of demands...
his final bow was as meteoric as the youthful falsetto that captivated a nation.
He made MTV a place for all musicians.
He sold over 750 million records.
I celebrate my birthday with the world lifting up one of the best to ever...
in a word, my 28th birthday was
THRILLING.
Michael Jackson was a gift from God. I consider it a blessing to live during the reign of the King of Popular who encouraged me to look at myself, love deeply, and care for those forgotten about or without voice. He was childlike. He was a witness for Jehovah.
He was the child star who grew into an international obsession. He awakened our desires to stare at a train wreck. He gave the world uncompromising vision that I compare to humanitarians like Gandhi or Mother Theresa. By consolidating the elements of human entertainment: song, dance, acting, appeal, and "faint factor," Michael was inhuman while he walked (backwards) on this earth. His unexpected departure came at a time when underground apparition Jay Electronica was one of few modern entertainers to express sympathy to Michael's mercurial lifestyle.
I believe Michael's actions, though controversial, were right for Michael. Not even the brightest of stars possessed the tear-jerking draw of Michael Jackson... and his death and the international outcry that followed was pure testament that through his God-given talents, his purpose was to connect us. To manifest a harmonic, gyrating, and soul stirring ether that had no boundaries. And he was the vessel chosen by our Creator to deliver powerful messages that crossed generational, ethnic, and musical expectations.
On June 25, 2009, I stood in my parent's driveway, anticipating my own birthday a few minutes later on the 26th. "Human Nature" majestically flowed from my ipod headphones. As the emotional song sparkled in my conscious mind, I had a moment where I acknowledged the global anguish and triumph of our greatest performer's final curtain call.
He had 50 shows in London that were to be his last. Imagine the dollar signs lodged in the eyes of many who wanted their piece of the action. He was an exploited genius. He lived to see his own brand become one of the most recognizable on the planet.
his music stands as an immeasurable contribution to contemporary Black entertainment laced with heart breaking controversy. He brought America's color divide to a song where each could be proud to feel. His smile arose from the most genuine parts of the human experience. His voice gushed with candy and gold.
"sing a simple melody, that's how easy love can be"_ABC
it was 11:30. I stood with many in awe of his departure and my own memory of his music and dance. I felt his kaleidescope aura and influence spread across the vastness of space above planet Earth. His star power reached across the solar system. He was truly international, a universal figure in the pantheon of world music. He had no classification and held the title of King of Popular...
his face wore the scars of personal control in a world of demands...
his final bow was as meteoric as the youthful falsetto that captivated a nation.
He made MTV a place for all musicians.
He sold over 750 million records.
I celebrate my birthday with the world lifting up one of the best to ever...
in a word, my 28th birthday was
THRILLING.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
prositry
dried flowers never cease to amaze me spacey
are her withered feathers
dancing on the wings of love?
misty are my eyes of glory
staring into the sun
paint the tide upon my brow
and wish upon the starry gate
228am est.
are her withered feathers
dancing on the wings of love?
misty are my eyes of glory
staring into the sun
paint the tide upon my brow
and wish upon the starry gate
228am est.
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