Cyberspaces 18 April 2005 part two

Bernie talks about the new Jean-Michel Basquiat exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Me and my roomies plan to go soon.

The beautiful Mama Junkyard turns us on to Mshairi, the Kiswahili word for "poet." Check out both of their sites.

Troy has an interesting entry about hands. It makes me think of a few lines from Toni Morrison’s Nobel Lecture. Here’s a snippet:

“One day the woman is visited by some young people who seem to be bent on disproving her clairvoyance and showing her up for the fraud they believe she is. Their plan is simple: they enter her house and ask the one question the answer to which rides solely on her difference from them, a difference they regard as a profound disability: her blindness. They stand before her, and one of them says, "Old woman, I hold in my hand a bird. Tell me whether it is living or dead."

She does not answer, and the question is repeated. "Is the bird I am holding living or dead?"

Still she doesn't answer. She is blind and cannot see her visitors, let alone what is in their hands. She does not know their color, gender or homeland. She only knows their motive.

The old woman's silence is so long, the young people have trouble holding their laughter.

Finally she speaks and her voice is soft but stern. "I don't know", she says. "I don't know whether the bird you are holding is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands."

I encourage you to follow this link for the rest of the story.

I am not sure if Maurice’s last post, “His Cups Runneth Over” (great title, by the way) is the stuff of fiction. You read it, you tell me.

Heru posts an update on the update on the investigation of a rare strain of HIV in New York. Also: check out his illuminating view on same-sex marriage, or rather how same-sex marriage advocates shoot themselves in the foot trying to look, act, present homos as normal. We all know they ain't, the buggers they are!

In an interview, Merv’s was asked: "You're from England. Did you ever meet Winston Churchill?" Churchill died January 1965. Merv is, like, 19.

Ronn remembers Emile Griffith. Here are not one but two articles about Griffith, and an interview. Bob Herbert wrote an ed-op piece about Griffith for The New York Times last week.

I haven’t seen Donald in week or so. We hope to break bread this week. We have many projects between us. Both of us work 9-5ers and, well, I’ve been cleaning house obsessively.

Larry revises "God" and shares why. Also: check out his beautiful spring-inspired photographs.

EJ’s trip to New York was inspiring (even though I didn’t get to see him (that was one busy-assed weekend!) or any of the other bloggers in the Brown Bloggers event. Waaah!

Black Griot is reading Samuel Delany’s Motion of Light in Water - his life's story up to the 60's. Lovely book, lovely man.

Kevin reports on problems at the Source. He has an interesting post about Mariah Carey, as well. Personally, I find her a little annoying. What a great voice, what pedestrian songs. I hope she stops being sexy soon. Maybe then the music will get better, which is all I give a fuck about.

Monday, April 18, 2005 @ 11:28 AM
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Comments

Thanks for the link. Awfully sweet of you. (Mama Junkyard is right - you are goodlooking :)

Posted by mshairi / on Apr 20 @ 4:14 PM

When he gets out of the hospital, I'll let you know.

</sarcasm>

Posted by karsh / on Apr 18 @ 9:59 PM

yes, heru.. go the hell off.
give me intelligensia

thanks for linking to the Morrison piece, stevie G. it's right on time.

Posted by Larry D. Lyons II / on Apr 18 @ 9:53 PM
banality: triviality; something that is trite, obvious, or predictable; a commonplace

Yeah, I can imagine the goings-on in that elevator. Seems like a perfect fit. I've been seeing the ads for the exhibit and he looks at me like he wants to say something. Like "What the fuck am I doing up here surrounded by Arial text?" or "You bringing records this time?" or maybe something without words. I'm still not sure what to think of him or if I connect with his art (I heard he was a horrible DJ), since most of what I know has been filtered. But Jeffrey Wright WAS cute in that role, wasn't he?

Posted by Donald / on Apr 18 @ 4:03 PM

I went to the opening reception for the Basquiat exhibit and then went back with my artist godson, Charly. On the nite of the reception, I found myself experiencing deep pain and rage. The spiritual and artistic leeching of this black boy, this young black man was palpable in so many ways: the names of the current "owners" of "his" art; the middle-class, middle-aged white woman in the elavator who felt she needed to not only share her feelings about the exhibit to her group of middle-aged, middle-class friends but also to me - how deep and rich the art was - she marvelled, deep and rich meaning soulful I'm sure; and yes the Basquiat store at the end. I connected with the social reality that these same people are frightened by the Basquiats, the black boys, the young black men who currently roam the streets as Basquiat had - tagging, being bodily and heady at the same time, countering the social demands placed upon them while conforming to the social fate inscribed upon their bodies. I wanted to mug that white lady in the elevator at that moment but instead I maintained my social position as a member of the black intelligensia--working out my rage thru analysis, satire, and polite banality (what does that word mean? I don't know but it sounds like it fits). Now I wonder, would Basquiat have gone to this exhibition? Would they have let him in the door before he was Basquiat, when he was basquiat, when he was jean-michel, when he was samo, when he was just this cute, lanky, brown boy with his hair uncombed full of questions, and chaos, and creativity, and lusts, and blackness.

Posted by Herukhuti / on Apr 18 @ 1:42 PM
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