On this day, when Michael Joseph Jackson is finally laid to rest, I awoke to a single note, a whispered “butterflies.” Wafting from my neighbor’s open window to mine was Michael’s lovely spin on Marsha Ambrosius’ paean to longing and infatuation. I am transported to my DC childhood and a nearly unbearable crush on a beautiful brown boy whose precociously soulful sound touched me as deeply as his cherubic face and glorious corona of hair delighted my eyes. The Got to be There cover with Mike in an Applejack and a Colgate smile just set my heart aflutter. It was he who first gave “me butterflies, inside, inside and I” didn’t know what to do with them. My little heart would race and the telltale blush would spread across my cheeks, prompting teasing that would bring me to tears.
Over the years there would be a J5 lunchbox, Right On! pull-out posters, stacks of 45s –which provided the b-sides not always found on albums, bumping, roboting Dancing Machine contests; devoted viewings of the Saturday morning cartoon, appearances on Soul Train, variety shows, both others’ and their own. I learned the camaraderie-inducing effect of festival seating at the Cap Centre, where MJ and his brothers closed out their Destiny tour thirty years ago.
I had a resurgence of MJJ ardor in the Thriller era, complete with a bow-tied, yellow-vested Michael gazing out directly from my wall. And who can forget the unparalleled excitement of his show-stealing Moonwalk during the Motown 25th anniversary. My best friend Carla and I zipped around the city hoping to catch a glimpse of him during his 1984 NYC stop to be inducted into the Guinness Book of World Records for the most popular album in history and for winning the most Grammy Awards, eight, in a single show.
When my friend Barb toured with him in 1997’s HIStory Tour, I joined her in London for a few days. The concerts at Wembley Stadium, were, of course, sold-out. Seeing the endless sea of enthralled diversity from backstage was incredible.The Bunyanesque statue of Michael, at first glance a hallmark of egomania, really did need to be large to be seen from the furthest reaches of the adoring crowd. He had indeed become larger than life.
Flummoxed by the oddity of his behavior whilst enchanted by his many gifts, we offer him at the altar of public consumption: revered by some, reviled by others. It is my hope that his memory is not bludgeoned by speculation to a pulpy mass of unanswerable questions.
I hear his own voice, the plaintive Gone Too Soon. I am saddened by the early passing of yet another black man, saddened by the undeniable pain of another human being, yet Michael, how glad I am your anguished soul is free. Thanks for the butterflies. Rest in peace.
I’ve known the gentle-spirited Aquarian Rodney Hughes for a number of years but only recently have I had the opportunity to really sit a spell and enjoy lengthy conversation with him. We’ve tried to coordinate our schedules for some time now so that he might introduce his line of aroma-therapeutic fragrances, Therapeutaté to me in his fragrance studio, the genesis of the magic.
As we descended the stairs to the basement laboratory, I was struck by the desire for deep inhalation, I longed to fully absorb the lovely aromas wafting from below and was elated that I actually perceived them. Formerly anosmic, I savor scent. Post life-saving surgery for a cerebral aneurysm, I lost then gradually regained my sense of smell, though its acuity wavers from time-to-time. Unwavering, however is the intensely evocative nature of fragrance. Scent memory is powerful, from the mother whose breasts cry milky tears at the whiff of her baby’s blanket to the elation I felt on a sweltering day when a group of boys who’d been playing ball–hard–walked by and it all came back to me, the stench of sweat a welcome return to olfaction.
In an afternoon of beautiful discussion about the primal importance of the olfactory sense; the therapeutic power of plant essences, the wonders of Mandy Aftel and the varied paths –both planned and surprising– we find ourselves on in our life’s journey, I felt peaceful and contemplative before we even got around to sampling the gorgeously blended, healing fragrances of Therapeutaté (an ancient ascetic healing order.)
Reiki practitioner Rodney has felt the call to healing from childhood (his initial inclination was toward the clergy) and has studied myriad routes toward that end. An avid student/researcher of history, he embraced the ancients’ belief in the medicinal properties of botanicals, their efficacy extending beyond the physical being to the spiritual self as well. The age-old tradition of incense-burning across many differing spiritual practices attests to this belief.
During the course of many years of overseas travel, Rodney began utilizing the essential oils of Lemon and Rosemary to combat the perils of his growing intolerance for in-flight recycled air. He soon began creating personal blends for his Reiki clients to supplement their attunements and was then urged by a friend to create a line to sell at retail. Immersing himself in every book and article on the subject of aromatherapy that he could find, he developed a line within six months. He further stoked his aromatic passion by pursuing formal studies in aromatherapy and now Therapeutaté has expanded to 3 lines: Pure Essene Oil Therapy™, Parfum au Natural™ and Rx remedies.
I’d read about his Vert 9 on the wonderful men’s fragrance blog, Fragrant Moments, and was curious about that one. I see why blogger Barney Bishop fell for it. In its pure Essene oil therapy myst form, it is light, refreshing, a crisp breeze through verdant hills. The natural parfum iteration is earthier, with a woody, masculine feel that would be absolutely appealing on a man but also intriguing on a woman.
I am wildly enamored of the smoky blend of Vetiver, Citrus and Lavender that is Aur Kasdeem (Light of the Magician) a grounding fragrance purportedly good for use in high stress environments. I believe that it is, as some recent stresses have been abated by a calming inhalation of this divine concoction.
The Hierodulai oil therapy has a balancing effect on the divine feminine, the name a nod to the sacred women of antiquity. As he sometimes does, Rodney has expanded on this fragrance to create a more complex version. HD Extrême Reserve, in the natural perfume line is beautiful, sweet but not cloying. It immediately evokes in me memories of women I’ve loved and lost, my grandmother, a favorite aunt, strong women. A continuum of womanness. It is intentionally symphonic, strongly inspired by a 1957 Miles Davis soundtrack to director Louis Malle’s Ascenseur pour l’Échafaud.
Another popular scent, 775 Through the Smoke Reserve from the Haute Parfum au Natural line was deepened by the addition of a “stinky” note. “Can’t be afraid of the funk,” Rodney says. What might be considered a malodorous element singularly can round out a fragrance synergistically. By bringing in da funk, he created the sensual, intoxicating Extrême version that I love: a magic potion of fruit and flower, root and wood.
What is becoming a must-have for me is the Travel Set from Rx remedies, plant essences blended with botanical alcohol and distilled water for spraying. Consisting of the Jet Set Atomizer with its antibiotic, anti-infectious properties (not to be applied on the skin as it contains oils of Thyme and Oregano) and Purifying Myst to refresh and enliven the air, cleanse crystals and consecrate your space with essences of sage, rose and a hint of citrus.
It is a magnificent treat to be able to visit the studio for a personal fragrance tour, but if time or distance prevents that, the fragrances are available online at the Therapeutaté Etsy shop.
The master at work in the fragrance lab.
An awesome addendum:
In a moment of synchronicity, just before I touched the “publish” button to send this post into the blogosphere, I received word of a new limited edition Therapeutaté fragrance. When I snapped the pics above, I didn’t realize that Rodney was working on what would become une rose pour Sharon. I can’t wait to try it.A bespoke fragrance. For me. I’m honored. Wow!
About a month ago, tax monkey off our collective backs, a break in a long stretch of inclement weather and a small break in my increasingly hectic schedule, I, at the behest of longtime friend and staunch advocate of the Bedford-Stuyvesant community, the artist TRUE, decided to check into his Macon Manor, a lovely short stay rental in the heart of the Stuyvesant Heights historic district. TRUE and his family live in the garden duplex and welcome guests on the top two floors of their 102 year-old, art-filled brownstone. Arriving at three I grabbed a cold drink of water from the in-room cooler, took in the view of the landscaped garden and perused the well stocked library of books, games and DVDs. After a brief chat with a friendly Australian traveler who’d checked into the floor below, I settled into quiet, enjoying refreshing cross breezes in the floor-through apartment and a well-deserved nap — afternoon delight.
Afternoon light floods the living room.
Some of the in-suite artwork.
I awoke just in time to stroll the three or four blocks to Olivino, the newer sister location to Clinton Hill’s similarly named wine shop for a tasting. The gregarious co-owner, Tony Walker and his friendly, knowledgeable staff, welcomed a multi-culti mix of customers to join the oenophilic assembly. It was lighthearted, unpretentious and a pleasant blend of both longtime residents and newbies.
Olivino partner, Tony is flanked by Bed-Stuy newcomers from Japan and Sweden.
After nibbling assorted breads, cheeses & olives and sampling the evening’s tasting wines, I was sated and ready for a lazy return to the ultra comfortable bed at 424 Macon. I slept beautifully, really a wonderful night’s sleep and awoke to the sweet trilling of the birds on the tree-lined block and the gentle streaming of sunlight around the corners of the accordion pleated window treatments. I helped myself to the coffee provided in my small kitchen and ambled into the large, airy bathroom to prepare for the day and check out. With space at a premium for most New Yorkers, the apartments (sleeping 7 persons each) offer a wonderful, affordable way to put up out-of-town guests. Travelers from around the globe can get a taste of Bed-Stuy in a convenient location (near the A Express at Utica Ave).
The spare, zen-like bedroom features two super comfy queen beds.
True with one of the twins.
Delighted by the temperate weather, I tossed on a summery frock and out I went to brunch with my friend Julia, a local resident and unofficial brand evangelist for Peaches, a restaurant on the corner of Lewis and MacDonough. An extension of her dining room, it is her Cheers, she its Norm and she sings its praises mightily. Weekend brunch is clearly poppin’ at this place, but it’s a great spot for dinner or an evening hang at the bar. Though I settled on and thoroughly enjoyed the shrimp po’ boy and coleslaw, I was nonetheless happy to see that in spite of the Southern/Soul food inspiration, there are several offerings to sate the vegetarian diner as well.
Owner Craig chats with Julia about the close-knit nature of the Bed-Stuy community and its local merchants.
Will serves up libation at the bar, while “Peaches” (a family elder for whom the restaurant is named) watches over from the portrait on the left.
As we left we bumped into the proprietors, Hillary & Lloyd Porter of the popular, next-door coffee shop/wifi cafe, Bread-Stuy where Hillary whips up scrumptious baked goods; life-of-the party Lloyd makes every visit feel like hanging with a favorite cousin and baby Maclemore has captured the attention of the entire community. Impromptu chess tourneys and DJ sets are not uncommon in front of this “village center.”
Anchoring the other end of the bustling block of Lewis Avenue is Crystal and Walston Bobb-Semple’s Brownstone Books. With its emphasis on titles of African diasporic interest serving the longtime predominately African-American community (their second location, opened last year at the Brooklyn Academy of Music has a largely performing arts-related inventory), Brownstone Books serves the literary interests of young and old with their children’s story hour as well as author readings, lectures and open-mic poetry night. I plan to return to get the August Wilson Century Cycle soon.
Crystal Bobb-Semple and the seminal collection of August Wilson’s Century Cycle stocked at Brownstone Books.
I bopped around a bit, taking in the scene at the four corners of Macon and Lewis: the recent renovations to the Macon Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library; Gallerist Richard Beavers shared his commitment to established as well as emerging artists of the African disapora at his House of Art. Estelle Harris’ recent addition to the SOLA (Shops of Lewis Avenue) mix, Creative Blossomsbrings clean, simple floral arrangements and a gardening center to the neighborhood; and new Mom, Josie Almonte played with her gorgeous daughter while sharing her goal of bring stylish, affordable fashion, accessories and home accents to the nabe with her Little Red Boutique.
Renovated BPL Macon branch.
Currently on display at House of Art: Jennifer Crute’s hard-hitting, “I Pledge.”
With his urban setting and elongated figures, Bua’s “1981″ is reminiscent of the work from the late Ernie Barnes.
Little Red Boutique owner Josie with her little angel.
Kicky Spring shoes.
A sampling of the simple, elegant arrangements from floral designer, Estelle Harris’ Creative Blossoms.
Before heading to my hotly anticipated appointment with friend Rodney Hughes at his fragrance lab (see the post, Talkin’ Shop: Therapeutaté), he introduced me to another offering on the art front. Brooklynite Gallery is a labor of love and creativity from couple Rae and Hope McGrath on Malcolm X Boulevard. I knew Hope back-in-the-day from her fashion production company, Asha and was excited to see what she and her artist hubby have brought to the area east of the SOLA hub. They rehabbed a dilapidated old building in the ‘hood into a sleek, modern gallery which takes advantage of yard space and natural light. The gallery is a celebration of Pop Art with a particular emphasis on Street Art and pushing the boundaries. The gallery website, for example, features new media elements like Brooklynite TV, streaming live video and encouraging live chat.
An iconic photo from National Geographic is re-imagined.
Culture reporter, music critic and local resident Siddhartha Mitter checks out the outdoor display at the gallery.
The office as seen from the backyard gallery.
On Sunday I had grits, eggs and thick slices of smoked turkey bacon at the counter of Ma-n-Pop, a humble diner with an Obama-inspired, patriotic stars-and-stripes decorwhile Beat Street played on the television hanging hospital-style overhead. A cheap, good meal in a real neighborhood joint.
Collard greens and potato salad at Ma-n-Pop
Later I was enchanted to stumble across Macon Hardware, a delightful hodgepodge of greeting cards, laundry carts, live plants, a selection of toy WWF championship belts and an extensive collection of church hats. When I saw a window full of Sunday-best crowns in a hardware store that proudly bore the name Mrs. Peter Hayes on the door, I had to take a peek. Mrs. Hayes, looking lovely in lavender was making a set of keys for a customer amid the nails, bobby pins and general store merch mix. She (and the space) reminded me of childhood Southern summers spent returning glass Coke and Mountain Dew bottles to Washington’s Servicenter in Kenbridge, Virginia where anything you needed could be found in Mr. Washington’s shop. I asked where she was from. “North Carolina, but I’ve been here 62 years, 47 in this building.” I noticed the prominently displayed black and white photo of her late husband and she began to share the story of how they once lived in the Marcy projects which were at that time, housing for military families, but the apartments were reserved for couples with children. They as a young couple were allowed to move in but “when I didn’t have a baby after six months, they said we had to move, but I wasn’t ready to have a baby.” With the gumption she still has today she convinced the powers that be to let them to stay. She has seen them come and go and with development many do go to somewhat nearby Home Depot, but she has a loyal community following (like that of paint specialists, Oz Hardware on Malcolm X) that I hope mightily continues to support her.
Mrs. Hayes, a photo of her late husband and the proprietor signage on the door of Macon Hardware.
Staff member Jace Rivera with Desmond Prince, owner of Oz Hardware.
I wrapped up my Bed-Stuy sojourn by strolling with friends to the nearby Weeksville Heritage Center, bordering Crown Heights for a free concert on the historic grounds by the awesomely talented DC native, Alice Smith. Giving body and incredible cool in the blazing heat, Alice performed a phenomenal acoustic set backed only by a guitar and sheltered by a yellow canopy which mimicked the sun.
There are many other treasures in this Central Brooklyn community: Solomon’s Porch restaurant, the new wine bar, Therapy, Hibiscus Day Spa, the positive vibes and healthful cuisine of Food 4 Thought Cafe, professional framing at the Lewis Gallery and the famed Italianate villa-cum-bed and breakfast inn, Akwaaba Mansionamong them. Coming soon will be the area’s answer to the Brooklyn Flea, SOLA Public Market; another wine bar with organic nibbles, Liquid Oz; what promises with its wood-burning oven to be a delicious hotspot for Neapolitan-style thin-crust pizza, Saraghina; upscale grocer, Butternut Market and from the mastermind of Cake Bliss,Margo Lewis, Dahlia’s, a Courtney Sloan-designed restaurant featuring healthy fare.
Though my trek was within the 11233 and 11216 zip codes, Bed-Stuy is a vast neighborhood bordering Bushwick, Brownsville, Clinton Hill, Crown Heights,East New York, and Williamsburg. Don’t sleep on the historical, architectural, cultural and gastronomical gems in this vibrant community.
(Thanks to Julia Chance for providing some of the photos)
Akwaaba Mansion 347 Macdonough Street 718.455.5958
Bread Stuy 401 Lewis Avenue 718.771.0633
Brooklynite Gallery 334 Malcolm X Blvd. 347.405.5976
Brownstone Books 409 Lewis Avenue 718.953.7328
Creative Blossoms 370 Lewis Avenue 347.240.9720
Food 4 Thought 445 Marcus Garvey Blvd 718.443.4160
Hibiscus Day Spa 558 Halsey Street 718.573.0831
House of Art 373 Lewis Avenue 347.663.8195
Lewis Gallery 225 Decatur Street 718.624.8372
Little Red Boutique 374 Lewis Avenue 718.443.1170
Ma-n-Pop Soul Food 349 Lewis Avenue 718.596.9933
Macon Branch, Brooklyn Public Library 361 Lewis Avenue 718.573.5606
Macon Hardware 339 Macon Street 718.574.4244
Macon Manor 424 Macon Street 718.919.8925
Olivino Bed Stuy426D Marcus Garvey Blvd. 718.249.0721
I remember riding in the Torino, my mom’s best friend at the wheel, the women in the front all cigarettes and Afros, the kids in the back all Afro puffs and yarn-tied pigtails. Car door locks looked like silver golf tees, asking the cat at Esso for directions was the GPS of the day and spinning the radio dial to WOL introduced some DC babies to the wonders of Stevie.
The man born Stevland Hardaway Judkins has etched beautiful memories in the hearts of generations of music fans; created an anthem for and fueled the movement toward federal acknowldegement of MLK’s birth; been lovingly parodied by Eddie Murphy and is celebrated yearly at Wonder-Full, a roving musical tribute to Mr. Stevie Wonder. Mix masters DJ Spinna and Bobbito Garcia spin only music either recorded or written (for example Rufus’ Tell Me Something Good) by Stevie, in a hotly anticipated event with the spirit-raising intensity of a Southern tent revival.
Happily, this year’s soiree was within walking distance of my home at Clinton Hill’s BK Studios. I went with last week my ace, writer Julia Chance as she covered the scene for WNYC. She documented with photos, gathered stories and still managed to get her dance on. I know I did. By 3am I was a hot mess, and I mean that in the best possible way.
If you wanna get your shop on during the balmy weather predicted for us this weekend, sisters seem to have it going on. On Friday (4-8pm) the wonderfully down-to-earth celeb designer Ashaka Givens starts her two-day Spring sale and fashion event at 580 8th Avenue 21st floor (between 38th & 39th Sreets in Manhattan) Stop at the ATM, it’s cash only for her sexy summer somethings.
Ashaka Givens and her summer sizzler.
Across the bridge, Wall Streeter-turned-technically-trained-fashion- designer Kenya Rice hosts a cocktail trunk show and sale starting at 6pm at 227 Gates Avenue in the BK. RSVP requested at kenya@kenyarice.com.
One of Kenya Rice’s feminine frocks. The designer herself.
Stylist Joan Van Hees, vintage maven and Afri-centrifugal fashion force, has been holding court at the Brooklyn Fleasince its inception and getting some well-deserved shine. She shares her space this weekend with fellow style chile, filmmaker Crystal Whaley, there to recirculate some treasures and spread some Warrior Woman love. Lafayette Avenue between Clermont and Vanderbilt.
Crystal Whaley and Joan Van Hees. One of Joan’s vintage finds.
Just blocks away Erica Hutchinson’s beloved Ft. Greene shop, Addy + Ferro celebrates its last weekend after four years of business with great sale items and loving goodbye nibbles.
While trying to find a fly menswear shop near the Brooklyn home of a makeover candidate, I stumbled on Steev West Fourth on Google. When the team and I pulled into a small parking lot adjacent to a deep gray granite edifice off the beaten path on Kings Highway we were surprised by its clean, modern lines. When we entered the 10,000 square foot store, we were stunned. A little Barney’s Co-Op feel in Gravesend. Michael Kors, James Perse, Rag and Bone, Zegna, Ralph Lauren, John Varvatos and an awesome selection of denims. Though our focus was menswear, the women’s department was bangin’ too–up-to-the-minute, savvy and sexy.
Owner Steev Eitelberg knows the high-end rag trade. For years his first eponymously named store on the Jersey Shore served the fashion needs of affluent patrons who summered there. Smartly, he followed his clientele back home and opened Steev West Fourth in Fall 2007, bringing the style they crave right into their Gravesend backyard. Gregarious and nattily attired, he tells the story of playing congas onstage with friend (and Jersey Shore customer) Bruce Springsteen. He revels in the brushes with fame brought on by his keen retail acumen and keeps his clients happy and well-dressed.
It’s a beautiful shop, set your GPS and go (or hop the N to Kings Highway). It’s worth the effort.
Zegna cardigan, Ralph Lauren shirt, Kors trousers and Varvatos shoes.
Arbiter of style on Kings Highway.
Steev West Fourth
355 Kings Highway
Brooklyn, NY 11233
718-336-6260
Open Sunday, 11am-6pm; Monday-Friday, 10am-7pm; Closed Saturday.
Thanks to a heads up from artist Bianca Dorsey, I was among the many well-wishers on hand at a reception for nonagenarian sculptor Elizabeth Catlett at the June Kelly Gallery last week. It was my absolute pleasure –and honor –to join the crowd in singing “Happy Birthday” to the esteemed artist, who at 94 is still producing work in various media from printmaking to sculpture of warm woods, patinated bronze, red onyx and black marble. Wearing vibrant magenta silk dupioni, she graciously received guests with a radiance that reflects a life lived embracing her passion for creation and arts education.
Ms. Catlett receives a cupcake from gallerist June Kelly.
The native Washingtonian’s impressive body of work was first publicly lauded when in 1940 her figurative limestone piece, Mother and Child won first prize in sculpture at the American Negro Exposition in Chicago. Moving to Mexico (where she still resides much of the time) in the late 1940’s, she married Mexican artist Francisco Mora and became a Mexican citizen, yet her work strongly celebrates African-American identity and remains resonant and relevant into her seventh decade of creating art.
Bather, 2009 Mahogany
Elizabeth Catlett, Recent Sculpture (2006-2009) is currently on view through Tuesday, May 2 2009.
When style expert, author and friend Lloyd Boston approached me to join the dedicated team which would ultimately produce his new makeover show for the Fine Living Network (FLN), I jumped at the chance to work with him again.
Lloyd’s style philosophy is one that is within reach and that accessibility has garnered him a loyal following as the Jones New York“Style Guy” at fashion clinics nationwide. His books have brought the basics of style into clear, user-friendly focus for both men and women and now his show, Closet Cases, which debuted last week, takes a similarly co-ed approach, putting him out there as a “BFF, best friend in fashion” at the ready to solve sartorial conundrums. By encouraging makeover participants to edit their own wardrobes to uncover hidden gems as well as retire those items no longer serviceable, Lloyd helps each make the most of what they’ve already got. A shopping excursion introduces the participant to a local boutique to pick up a few supplementary pieces and gives the show’s closet-designing dynamo, Carey Evans, time to reconfigure the person’s existing closet into an organized, highly functional yet visually pleasing dream.
Though the show is infused with humor, Lloyd’s quick wit never panders to mean-spirited snarkiness, which seems to have become part of the makeover canon. Refreshingly, it is a program done with levity, good heart and realistic, useful and sustainable results. It has been rewarding to hear from participants, singing the praises of Lloyd and the show and sharing the positive impact the makeover experience has had on their lives.
Closet Cases airs Monday nights at 10pm. Check the FLN website for the channel in your area. Tonight’s episode, Let Go My Logo features Clive, who needed to up the style ante to meet his aspirational zeal.
I am hugely enamored of the work of playwright and 2007 MacArthur Fellow, Lynn Nottage. From laughing heartily and feeling the first flush of love with a date at her Fabulation, or the Education of Undine, to obsessing over costuming her beautiful, Pulitzer-nominated, turn-of-the-century play, Intimate Apparel, many wonderful moments of the past few years have been punctuated by the enjoyment of her work.
Last Thursday was another such moment when I took in a performance of her latest staged play. In 2005, Ms. Nottage, who feels a “social responsibility” to give voice to the voiceless, traveled with her husband, filmmaker Tony Gerber and the director with whom she is most closely aligned, Kate Whoriskey, to Uganda (more stable than the neighboring embattled Democratic Republic of Congo) to speak with Congolese refugee women and gather their stories. The resulting Mother Courage and her Children-influenced piece is the powerful Ruined, on stage at the Manhattan Theatre Club through May 2, 2009.
Set in the recent past in a small mining town in the Ituri Rainforest of the Democratic Republic of Congo (props to the scenic and sound designers), Ruined introduces us to Mama Nadi, proprietor of a bar/brothel that keeps the local miners and soldiers lusts for Primus beer and paid sex sated and ironically the women whose bodies are offered for consumption, safe. For food and shelter in a weapon-free zone (patrons are asked to remove their bullets before entering Mama’s doors) the women provide housekeeping duties and sexual favors– always with condoms. An odd bit of safe haven in a region where women are often brutally ravaged in unprotected, non-consensual sex in great numbers and left “ruined” thus shamed and unwelcome in their villages.
Saidah Arrika Ekulona’s turn as the Brechtian entrepreneur Mama Nadi is flawless. Though Mama’s livelihood depends on the spoils of desperation and devastation, she unapologetically views prostitution as an act of defiance rather than defilement, a choice. Josephine, as portrayed by the lithe Cherise Boothe, is the proud daughter of a village chief whose excommunication has brought her into Mama’s fold, her gift of dance used as enticement, a weary-feistyness that keeps her (like Intimate Apparel’s 1905 prostitute, Mayme) moving toward something more. Russell G. Jones, nuanced as the sensitive Christian, brings the violated girls, Salima and Sophie and ultimately, love to Mama’s insular world.
Quincy Tyler Bernstine’s poignant portrayal of the tragic Salima, “You will not fight your battles on my body anymore,” brings tears to the eyes. We actually feel for Chike Johnson when he, as Fortune realizes the err of his ways and seeks redemption and reunion with his wife. Christian’s “ruined” niece Sophie cannot be offered as a prostitute, so she earns her keep in song, performing at the bar. With her large, expressive eyes and clear, beautiful voice, Condola Rashad shows us the spirited hopefulness that remains with Sophie in spite of the constant pain that wracks her abused body.
There are moments of wrenching gravity and yet the play is rife with humor. As in life, there is the mercy of levity, momentary reprieve that along with hope allow us to move through the now with the belief in a better tomorrow.
Here, the playwright Lynn Nottage and actor, Saidah Arrika Ekulona discuss Ruined with WNYC New York Public Radio.
Condola Rashad on the promotional poster.
I have to admit that I was taken aback by the fact that the little being, the reason for belly bump camouflaging on The Cosby Show, (as Clair Huxtable, Phylicia Rashad’s real-life pregnancy was hidden behind props) was performing beautifully before me, a grown woman. Fugit hora.
