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.