Second Sunday in September September 14, 2008

The annual Brooklyn Book Festival takes place tomorrow at Brooklyn Borough Hall and Plaza. The free day-long literary event encompasses themed readings and panel discussions with a diverse group of literary giants and emerging authors alike. Among the many choice offerings, I will definitely check out the brilliant Paul Beatty who reads from his novel, Slumberland at 2pm and the 4pm discussion between author/activists Kevin Powell (good run, Kevin) and Naomi Wolf.  Then I’ll make my way in (to Manhattan) and up (to Morningside Park) for the backside of DJ Stormin’s Sundae Sermon, for some musical anointing from Pete Rock and DJ Beverly Bond.

Naomi Wolf and Kevin Powell

Heath Brothers’ Quartet at Birdland September 11, 2008

I enjoyed a live performance of one of my favorite jazz standards last night, Mal Waldron’s Soul Eyes from the tenor saxophone of the legendary Jimmy Heath. His tone was perfect, masterful.  He turns 82 next month, but my how he can still blow.  Backed by his former Queens College student, Jeb Patton on piano, David Wong on bass, and his “baby brother,” Albert “Tootie” Heath (who, by-the-way, nattily rocked a perfectly-knotted bowtie) holding it down on the drums, he brought the bop blessings. My friend, the jazz-loving Henry Adebonojo, beautifully photographed the shots below.

Jimmy Heath plays Billy Strayhorn’s “Daydream.”

Jeb Patton on piano; David Wong on bass.

Remembering Artist and Friend, Michael Rolando Richards September 11, 2008

In early 2000, I spent some time in Miami’s South Beach, where coincidentally, my friend Michael Richards was living during an artist’s residency, a fellowship that would culminate in an exhibition at the Corcoran Gallery of Art.  Though I’d known Michael and his work for a few years, it was during this time that I got to see the artist at work and was impressed with his work ethic and process.  I also saw his camaraderie with and Leonine generosity toward his fellow artists in the program.  When the Corcoran show was mounted that June I traveled to my DC hometown for the opening.  The work was extremely well received by guests and both Michael and I were particularly moved by the reception from museum security.  The mostly African-American security detail stood sentry, chests puffed up with pride at inclusion in their museum of the work of a young black man. One gentleman in particular, an elder, smiled and asked if Mike would take a picture with him.  “I know we’re not supposed to do this, but I am just so proud of you, I haven’t seen the likes of you in here.”  Michael warmly embraced him and smiled.

The following year Michael excitedly shared the news of his residency in the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council’s “World Views” program, which provided him with studio space in one of the iconic towers of the World Trade Center.  I remember a foreboding feeling upon hearing it, but beat back the chill and offered enthusiastic congratulations to my clearly delighted friend.  We then spoke of trying to catch up on some of the “Summerthings” he’d been missing because of his busyness and he invited me to visit the WTC studio to “sit and enjoy the lovely view.”  I was, in fact, at the Trade Center when I saw Michael for the last time. I was sitting in the plaza with a friend who was about to depart for a year-long stint in India when I noticed him, dressed in black striding purposefully in our general direction, his gaze fixed forward. I wanted to get his attention and hug him hello but I didn’t want to divert attention from a poignant goodbye to my subcontinent-bound friend. Besides, Michael wasn’t planning to go anywhere any time soon, so I made a mental note to schedule that visit and applaud him for the new work he was sculpting in the studio and tease him about the new body he was sculpting at the gym.  The visit never happened. Michael, gifted artist, music lover, thoughtful, loyal friend and simply one of the loveliest people I have had the good fortune to know was one of the 2,749 people who perished when terrorist planes pierced the Twin Towers the morning of September 11th.

Michael R. Richards (August 2, 1963 – September 11, 2001) with his seminal and seemingly prophetic work, Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian

Tar Baby vs. St. Sebastian, 1999
Resin and steel, 81 x 30 x 19 (205.7 x 76.2 x 48.2)

Check the following links to read more about Michael’s life and work:

An obituary from The Independent.

An excerpt of a statement from curators Christine H. Kim and Franklin Sirmans.

A press release from the North Carolina Museum of Art.

A moving essay from someone inspired by his work.

Another essay

An article from Carib Voice.

A Juilliard Journal article.

“Remix” at The National Museum of the American Indian until 9/21 September 9, 2008

There are still a few days left to see, Remix: New Modernities in a Post-Indian World, at the National Museum of the American Indian.  The museum, part of the Smithson endowment, is housed at the former US Customs House at Bowling Green in Manhattan.

The exhibition, which traveled from the Heard Museum in Phoenix, features the works of fifteen artists of Native American descent.  The artists move beyond blankets, dreamcatchers and the stuff of the tourist trade to both embrace and redefine indigenous art of the Americas through media as diverse as painting, sculpture, photography, film, even video games (Zuni-Laguna artist Alan Natachu’s Playing NDN examines the Native American motif in console video gaming.)

Fausto Fernandez, “Adjustment Line for Miss Petite,” 2005. Collage: sewing patterns, acrylic, asphalt.

Bernard Williams, From “Charting America,” 2002-present. Wood & cardboard cutouts.

Kent Monkman, “The Emergence of a Legend,” 2007. Digital print on metallic paper.