Archive for the ‘DC’ Category

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Fathering Words with E. Ethelbert Miller

May 16, 2010

Egberto Miller walks to the subway carrying his lunch. My mother has taken the time to fix him a good meal. I will remember the exchange of small brown paper bags more than hugs and kisses between my parents. When we moved into the St. Mary’s Housing Projects, we lived on the seventeenth floor; my mother would watch my father walk to work from the bedroom window. Behind her would be an unmade bed. The outline of my father’s body was still trapped against the sheets and blankets. My father never overslept when it was time to go to work. He never dragged himself out of bed. He was up and in the bathroom washing his body before you could even talk to him. This is why I believe he never dreamed. His eyes never had that soft, hazy, distant look. His eyes never looked tired. When you work hard everyday you don’t look tired; you are tired but you never mention it. There are no excuses.

I wonder what my mother thought about my father always sleeping? No time to really go anywhere. What was she thinking while bending over the stove? My father is sitting at the kitchen table. He props his head up with his hands. He is waiting for his meal. Years from now I will recognize this pose. It’s the picture we get from the loser’ locker room after the World Series, the Super Bowl or the N.B.A. finals. It’s defeat after making an error, the ball going in and out of the rim. A foot touching the line in the end zone. Or worst, the referee or umpire missing the call. Yet there is something heroic about my father. It took many years for me to realize the simple beauty behind how he ate his food. The care that he gave to even the most mundane task.

Just before I went off to college, he printed my name in the inside of a new typewriter case, his block letters so beautifully even. I looked at my name each time I took the typewriter out.

Excerpted from chapter two of Fathering Words: The Making of an African American Writer by E. Ethelbert Miller.
*Posted with permission of the author.

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New Chapter

May 7, 2010

When I read stories–regardless of genre–I like a good sense of place. I might even go so far to say that I enjoy when the writer gives the place a personality. For instance, Morrison literally makes the house in Beloved breathe, haunt, and also comment. It almost becomes a character in the novel. Gloria Naylor does a superb job of make Brewster’sPlace sing. James Baldwin writes of Harlem and Greenwich Village like no other.

When we think of documenting history, the places the people gather are equally if not more telling that who was there. I realized this early on. And while I knew that Bus Boys and Poets was a special place, I hadn’t realized the gravity of the place until recently when I was offered a job as Marketing Coordinator with the Marketing and Events team. What makes Bus Boys and Poets different than any other above average place to eat is that there’s a real production at work in inviting the kinds of people that they invite. It’s become so contagious that folks such as Cornell West, Common, and so many others are dropping by to see what it this place all about.

As an artist, I’m fascinated by productions. How movements are staged. How political agencies caucus in backrooms and divide the city, develop and ignore other parts of the city. I think it’s important for any artist to understand how the arena they wish to enter operates. And most important, who are those power brokers making things happen. And how can they find a seat at the table.

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Murillo Returns

April 13, 2010

Poet John Murillo (Up Jump the Boogie) will be in DC this weekend leading a workshop for Split This Rock and giving a reading at Bus Boys and Poets with KatyRichey. There are still spaces left for the workshop, I believe. You should contact Sarah Browning at browning@splitthisrock.org for registration or further details.

Here’s a clip of Murillo reading at the Bowery Poetry Club. I was very fortunate to be in the audience.

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Portraits of a Photographer’s Muses

April 8, 2010

 For as long as I can recall photography has been a central force in my life. It may have had something to do with my uncle being a photographer. But, I suspect it was something more than that. How you can stare at a photograph for an hour, then come back to it and see something different. It’s always been fascinating to me.

When I moved to Washington, I noticed photographer Mig shooting many of the literary events. At some point, I met her husband poet Brandon Johnson and got to see more of Mig’s work. One day, probably while our kids were playing, she share an idea to photograph DC poets. It was exciting because I always wanted to do something to bring together DC poets. So I wrote a grant that was accepted at the American Poetry Museum. I titled our collaboration The Washington Caravan after The famed anthology, The Negro Caravan. 

Mig Dooley is important and noteworthy because she’s a bridge to the Scurlock Family and historic photographers like James VanDerZee.

Her family, she says, is her muse.

Husband, Brandon Johnson

Son, Cyrus Johnson

Daughter, Naomi Johnson

To check out more of Mig’s work, visit her site.

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Four Days Away…

March 6, 2010

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Register Now. Less than Three Weeks Until Festival.

February 19, 2010

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A Conversation With Randall Horton

December 26, 2009

In the lingua franca of ninth street, the reader encounters a barrage of pathologies threatening the District’s residents such as death, drug addiction, and hopelessness. How did you emerge a prodigal son—if you will allow me to read this as autobiographical—there’s a running suit of poems titled “notes from a prodigal son”?

The poems titled “Notes from a Prodigal Son” are mediations and laments to my father. My father has been a strong influence in my life. During the time that I was incarcerated, it was his constant encouragement along with the purging of my life onto a notebook that helped me to get through a difficult period. These poems are meant to add balance to the poems as a whole. I wanted readers to understand that the book is about forgiveness and consequences for one’s actions.

There’s a blues aesthetic that undergirds each of your poems in this manuscript. Can you talk about your interest in the blues? Would you consider yourself a bluesman?

My interest or relationship to the blues extends from my childhood growing up in Birmingham, Al. My grandmother played blues music almost everyday on her stereo in the “big room.” I could not help but be influence by people like B.B. King, Bobby Blue Bland, Gene Chandler, and Johnny Taylor. Also, I would like to think of the blues aesthetic as a lived experienced that most people go through at sometime in their lives. I think you have to know how to recognize this experience and articulate it.

What would you say was the most difficult aspect of writing the lingua franca of ninth street? From the outside, you’re so far away from ninth street—you hold a Ph.D, have published in peer reviewed journals, and in many ways are a bridge between Etheridge Knight and younger poets like R. Dwayne Betts? Does one ever really leave ninth street?

As you know the lingua franca of ninth street is my second book. This is the book I wanted to write first, however, I needed to put more distance between the actual experiences and how I chose to write about them. It is always difficult remembering the hard challenges in one’s life. I can say that I have physically left ninth street, mentally I am in a different place, however, one never forgets. I think I add a different and needed experience to American Letters.

Tell me a bit about your poem “Origin Explained to my Cellmate?” The refrain “I come from” creates a form that I’ve seen in other manuscripts (e.g. Terrance Hayes, R. Dwayne Betts.) Are you and your fellow poets speaking to each other and witnessing to the world about your origins? You also credit your Southern roots as helping you survive and realize the possibilities that life has to offer. Can you expand on this?

 The poem was conceived in a workshop ran by Kelly Norman Ellis at Chicago State University where I received my MFA, and I consider the poem to be a breakthrough in how I looked at the Roxbury section of the book. The idea of the repetition “I come from” to instill the blues and create a mental landscape in the readers mind for me was crucial. I don’t know if we poets are speaking to each other more so than we are speaking to poetry readers, helping them understand that place is important in a poem, that one’s human condition is intrinsically tied up within the beauty of art. Also, for me, having grown up in a community that was once segregated and forced to form familial and communal bonds, instilled a sort of ethnic pride that I had lost, however, in the remembering of where I came from while I was in prison, I was able to gain it back and make my community proud instead of ashamed. This form helped me to bring that out.

Arguably one of your most poignant lines comes from the last poem in your manuscript where you enter a prison to give a poetry reading—but you enter not as Dr. Horton but as you put it “How do I say welcome me, I am your brother?” Can you talk a bit about this? Are you received as a peer when you go into prisons and share your story and knowledge of the craft of poetry? And the converse of this is, are you received as a peer when you move through academia?

Going back inside prison to work with incarcerated people has helped me to be thankful and understand how full–circle my life has come. Traveling life’s circumference has been arduous, yet rewarding. There is no denying that I am their brother, as in we have a shared experience that few people in life go through. I hope that in some way, what I have done can provide a bit of hope, a bit of willingness to change one’s life. My story is a passport to that place where few inmates will let people on the outside come into. So they grant me access because I know their human condition.

 To answer your question about academia, my reception has been mixed. I have received the most resistance from HBCUs. Howard University would not readmit me to finish my degree once I got out of prison so I went to the University of the District of Columbia. Just so you know I completed four years at Howard, however, I never finished my degree. I left and life got in the way. I was seeking re-admittance as an old student returning. My grades were always good. They flat out denied me because of what I had gone through.

 Most recently I received of Scholar-in-Residence position at Central State University where the provost had a problem with my past record. This happened after CSU had done a very thorough reference check from individuals and schools. I was extended an offer, gave full disclosure, signed the contract and then had the contract revoked. The process of this position required approval by the students and the chair of the English Department who very thoroughly checked my teaching and scholastic references.

 Actions likes these make me rethink the mission of HBCUs. I teach at the University of New Haven now, and the administration and English Department have been great in understanding what it is that I bring to an institution in terms of creative writing and fellowship with students. My record over the last ten years speaks to commitment and scholarship. In case you want to know, my crime was nonviolent. I have taught at SUNY Albany and now UNH, and in each of these places I have been received favorably by both the faculty and the students. I got my MFA in 18 months and my PhD in 3 years flat. I am very focused and feel that I have found what it is in life that I am supposed to do. Plain and simple.

Thanks for taking the time to talk Abdul, much appreciated.

Randall Horton is a former editor of Warpland: A Journal of Black Literature and Ideas (Fall 2005) and co-editor of Fingernails Across the Chalkboard (Third World Press, 2006). He received his undergraduate education at both Howard University and The University of the District of Columbia (B.A. English). He has a MFA in Creative Writing with an emphasis in Poetry from Chicago State University. He holds a PhD from SUNY Albany. the lingua franca of ninth street is Mr. Horton’s second collection of poems. Randall Horton is the editor-in-chief of the newly minted lit journal, Tidal Basin Collective.  He is also a Cave Canem fellow.

Horton, originally from Birmingham, Alabama, resides in Albany, New York. He is a former editor of Warpland: A Journal of Black Literature and Ideas (Fall 2005) and co-editor of Fingernails Across the Chalkboard (Third World Press, 2006). He received his undergraduate education at both Howard University and The University of the District of Columbia (B.A. English). He has a MFA in Creative Writing with an emphasis in Poetry from Chicago State University. He is also a first year doctoral student at SUNY Albany. Randall received an Archie D. and Bertha H. Walker Foundation Summer Scholarship to attend Fine Arts Workcenter at Provincetown in 2005. He is also a Cave CanRandall Horton, originally from Birmingham, Alabama, resides in Albany, New York. He is a former editor of Warpland: A Journal of Black Literature and Ideas (Fall 2005) and co-editor of Fingernails Across the Chalkboard (Third World Press, 2006). He received his undergraduate education at both Howard University and The University of the District of Columbia (B.A. English). He has a MFA in Creative Writing with an emphasis in Poetry from Chicago State University. He is also a first year doctoral student at SUNY Albany. Randall received an Archie D. and Bertha H. Walker Foundation Summer Scholarship to attend Fine Arts Workcenter at Provincetown in 2005. He is also a Cav

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Lauryn Hill Does Nina…

December 16, 2009

For my senior thesis at Howard University, I wrote a play about the life and times of Nina Simone. In this play–which I hope to get on a stage soon–I make a comparison to Nina Simone and Lauryn Hill.

One of my favorite songs is Sinnerman. Watch Lauryn’s rendition. What do you think?

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A Black Shadow Returns

December 15, 2009

contributed by Melanie Henderson
 
Most mornings, I drive to work. But after a weekend of tree-trimming with babyboy, baking, and gift-wrapping, I was running a little low on energy and time. So, I took a walk to work so the sounds of the city could wake me. While walking down K Street near what used to be the Sursum Cordas Project (moment of silence…it’s all electric-wired fences and unkempt grass now), I happened to look down. Low and behold, I saw a soggy postcard:

I remembered how the mystery and persistence in the bold angles and curves of blackprint gave a sort of haunting feeling to all travels through the District in the 80s. I remember asking my mom, “Who is Cool Disco Dan?” She didn’t know. I never knew. After a while, I didn’t care. Figured he was locked up somewhere for all that damn tagging. But, I did know this dude was on a mission to imprint his character across the District as often, as prominently, and as boldly as he could. From what I can remember, he never used colors like other taggers. But then, he wasn’t your average tagger or graffiti artist. You could tell he was serious about this. I mean, his tag was under bridges at heights it seemed only spiderman could reach. Always in black. His tags stood out the best in the rain, letters bursting at the hips like one of my uncles old girlfriends he had met at the go-go. His girlfriends always had Venus Hottentot hips.

It’s funny, I wasn’t particularly a fan of Cool Disco Dan spraying himself all over town, on buildings, walls, trash cans, I mean, anything. But now, the little postcard with the familiar bold print reminds me of a totally different DC.

Of course, there were a lot of things about the 80s in DC that are worth forgetting, but there was a flavor and a heat about the city then that seems to be trickling away at an uncontrollable pace. The retail shops filling up old Chinatown. Humongous condos blocking the neighborhood’s perfect view of fireworks on the Mall from New York and New Jersey Avenue. Strange, the neighborhood once affectionately known as simply New York Avenue is now “Truxton Circle” and “Mt. Vernon” according to Historic Preservation. They’re preserving something, but nothing I remember. I miss the O Street Market. The numerous fireworks stands lining the major thoroughfares of DC at the crack of summer. The feelgood of the annual Black Family Reunion. It’s all different. Some change is good. Just some. But what can I say. Some of us are still here and will always remember that once upon a time in DC.
Thanks Cool Disco Dan for taking me back for a spell.

Based on the postcard, it seems Cool Disco Dan has grown up! Entrepreneur with a product to sell. Check him out at www.CoolDiscoDan.com.

Melanie Henderson, 4th generation native of Washington, DC, is a graduate of Howard University and an MFA candidate at Lesley University in Cambridge, MA.