Creative Class Collective uplifts Long Beach’s artistic community

Creative Class Collective uplifts Long Beach’s artistic community

From Long Beach Walls to Art Renzei, Creative Class Collective is an organization behind numerous art initiatives in Long Beach.

While the organization formalized around 2018 or 2019, these initiatives have been ongoing for decades, explained director Cassandra Leeman.

Originally conceptualized through the multicultural marketing agency interTrend Communications, Creative Class Collective became an organization to specifically house its community programming, Leeman said.

All of the nonprofit’s programs foster and support creativity within Long Beach—whether it’s through community engagement or assisting those working in creative industries.

Perhaps one of the organization’s most notable programs is Long Beach Walls, which since 2010 has brought murals to public spaces in cities like Honolulu, Seoul, Washington D.C., Taipei and Tokyo as part of the globally recognized World Wide Walls series of street art events.

While introducing Long Beach Walls was a large endeavor for the city, Leeman said, the annual event, apart from its artistic contribution to Long Beach, provides a bridge between the community and the muralists. Throughout the process, community members are able to engage with the artists and learn the stories behind each mural, Leeman said.

While Long Beach Walls murals are hopefully meant to be forever (although this is not always the case, Leeman said), its accompanying event, Art Renzei, brings a temporary sculpture and multimedia installation to the Long Beach community.

Apart from this, Creative Class Collective programming includes Unexpected Connections, a conference and dinner series where visionaries from different industries come together to inspire and uplift, as well as discuss the creative economy, which Leeman expects will return this October in conjunction with the Long Beach Economic Partnership.

The Port City Creative Guild, meanwhile, is an art exchange program that was developed during the pandemic, which partners professional artists with the Long Beach Unified School District. Initially, 10 artists were given a stipend to create a large-scale artwork, which was intended to be displayed in Community Hospital, but when this plan fell through, the Port City Creative Guild then shifted to its second phase, which included selecting artists to create small-scale artwork to trade with students from six-to-eight middle school and high schools.

Inspired by the 1960s mail art movement, when artists would create small-scale work on envelopes and post cards, the Port City Creative Guild encourages the idea that art doesn’t need to be only found on a canvas, Leeman said.

With the help of art kits created by Creative Class Collective, about 400 students participated in the program, Leeman said.

Of the 100 students who ended up submitting art to be potentially traded, about 60 pieces ended up being selected by professional artists, Leeman said.

“Artists didn’t have to pick anybody, so it was really instilled that if you were chosen, it was because the artists saw value in your work and appreciated what you did,” Leeman said.

In a city like Long Beach that is home to so many creatives, providing the various Creative Class Collective programs creates both an outlet for artists while supporting economic development, Leeman said.

Initiatives such as Long Beach Walls can even help sustain businesses—creating a focal point that people will return to again and again, Leeman said.

People remember the moment they met the artist or learned about the background or the hidden image behind the mural, Leeman said. “It’s just like something really meaningful … to hopefully inspire you to do whatever you’re passionate about,” Leeman said. “I think that’s needed everywhere.”

Right now, one goal for the Creative Class Collective is to create more permanent, large-scale installations throughout the city, and to truly uplift Long Beach, which has the potential to become a global destination for art, Leeman said.

Back in 2021, the organization placed temporary stained-glass art installations along the beach, an initiative that Leeman said she would love to see on a more permanent scale.

Specifically, Leeman would love to see a sculpture park created in Victory Park right off of Ocean Boulevard. As of now, the area doesn’t really look like a public space due to its proximity to high rise buildings and hotels, but through creating a sculpture park, it has the potential to integrate the beach more to Downtown, which currently seems disconnected, Leeman said.

“I would love to create a reason for people to explore how beautiful our space is,” Leeman said.

“Everybody knows Long Beach has wonderful local artists—everybody within Long Beach, but I don’t know if everybody outside of Long Beach knows how creative we are as a city and community,” Leeman said. “So I would like to make it more known and just really uplift us as this fine art, creative space.”

Here are the 10 finished murals after this year’s Long Beach Walls

City hosts exhibits to celebrate Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

City hosts exhibits to celebrate Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

May 2 reception will kick off shows

In recognition of Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, the City of Bellevue is hosting two free exhibits during the month of May, one showcasing diverse artworks from a variety of AANHPI artists and another highlighting the role of Chinese immigrants in the history of the first transcontinental railroad.

To kick off AANHPI Heritage Month and the exhibits, the city will hold a reception Tuesday, May 2, 5-7 p.m. at City Hall, with remarks from city leaders and light refreshments. Registration is required.

The AANHPI art exhibit, a philanthropic collaboration with MG2 Foundation’s executive director, Jerry Quinn Lee, will feature more than a dozen multimedia pieces centering on the voices and experiences of the AANHPI community. The cross-cultural collection is open to the public at no cost in the first- and second-floor concourses at City Hall May 1-26 (event flyer).

The city will also honor the contributions of Chinese railroad workers through a partnership with the Chinese American Civic Association. The exhibit, “Applaud to the Chinese Transcontinental Railroad Workers,” features 60 bilingual educational panels depicting how an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 Chinese immigrants built the most challenging part of America’s first transcontinental railroad in the 1860s. The panels will be on display in the first-floor concourse at City Hall May 15-19 (event flyer).

Exhibit hours are Monday to Thursday, 8 a.m.-9 p.m., and Friday, 8 a.m.-4 p.m.

Recognition of AANHPI Heritage Month will also include a proclamation read at the May 1 City Council meeting.

For alternate formats, interpreters, or reasonable accommodation requests please phone at least 48 hours in advance 425-452-7881 (voice) or email diversity@bellevuewa.gov. For complaints regarding accommodations, contact the city’s ADA/Title VI administrator at 425-452-6168 (voice). If you are deaf or hard of hearing dial 711.

The radical potential of photography

The radical potential of photography

“Not all realisms: Photography, Africa, and the Long 1960s,” on view at the Smart Museum of Art, examines the mobilization of photography amid the shifting cultural and political dynamics that coincided with the African independence movements of the 1960s. The show surveys the dissemination of images over an array of print media, featuring the work of photographers Ernest Cole, James Barnor, Marc Riboud, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Paul Strand, and many others. The Reader connected with curator and art historian Leslie M. Wilson, now the associate director of academic engagement and research at The Art Institute of Chicago, to talk about the research that shaped the exhibition and photography’s narrativizing role in material culture.

Curator Leslie M. Wilson

Alexandra Drexelius: Can you discuss the title of the exhibition, “not all realisms”? The lack of capitalization suggests an ambivalence towards authority or a troubling of universal statements. What does “realism” mean to you? 

Leslie M. Wilson: “Not all realisms” is a phrase taken from the last paragraph of the American photographer and photo theorist Allan Sekula’s 1986 essay “The Body and the Archive.” That essay focuses on how photographs have been used as a means to represent, to study, and surveil different types of people. At its heart is the tension between a medium that can be used all at once to make the portrait of a loved one and a mug shot, between what he frames as the “honorific” and “repressive” functions of the photograph. 

While that essay largely focuses on North American and European examples, at the very end, Sekula turns his attention to the work of the South African photographer Ernest Cole, whose book House of Bondage: A South African Black Man Exposes in His Own Pictures and Words the Bitter Life of His Homeland Today, published in 1967, was a powerful indictment of South Africa’s brutal system of racial segregation known as apartheid. Reflecting on the impact of Cole’s work, Sekula wrote, “Not all realisms necessarily play into the hands of the police . . . .” Writing this in the essay’s last paragraph, Sekula suggests that even though photographs can be used in repressive ways, they may still provide “testimony” about lived experiences that support meaningful challenges to unjust systems. This exhibition is interested in that potential.

As for the lack of capitalization, that actually reflects that in turning over the phrase from Sekula, “not all realisms,” I started to read it anachronistically through what we might call “hashtag logic,” as in #notallrealisms. And by that I mean a thought process that might sound something like: “I know realisms can be problematic and that I shouldn’t trust photographs and the ways that people and systems use them, but not all realisms are bad.” Or, “I know some really great realisms.” Against a lot of the distrust that people—that we—express about photographs on a daily basis, we make exceptions for the photographs we believe in or want to believe in. I wanted to hold space for the hope that the makers of photographs have for the medium’s capacity to represent aspects of lived experience. I wanted to make space for the hopes and the risks of making photographs and making claims to and about photographs. And I think we can really see that through the dynamic practices and the very high stakes of photography amidst the major political and social shifts in Africa in and around the 1960s.

Installation view, “not all realisms: photography, Africa, and the long 1960s,” Smart Museum of Art, The University of Chicago
Credit: Robert Chase Heishman

The exhibition’s geographic scope includes the postcolonial context of West African nations Ghana (formerly Gold Coast) and Mali, which had both gained independence by the start of the 1960s. You also look at South Africa—reconstituting itself as a Republic in 1961, this so-called independence advanced the National Party’s discriminatory agenda and the ongoing disenfranchisement of Black South Africans. This juxtaposition offers a heterogenous view of Africa during this period—one articulated by the shifting map of independent African nations on the 1964 cover of the magazine Bingo, featured at the beginning of the exhibition. Could you talk about the role of place and what led you to focus on these nations?

I started with the Smart Museum of Art’s collection and built from there. When I began my two-year curatorial fellowship at the museum in 2019, I noted that only four photographs in the Smart Museum’s collection were made by African photographers: three photographs by the South African photographer Ernest Cole and one photograph by the Malian photographer Malick Sidibé. And all four photographs were made in the 1960s. And so I thought about what I could build with that work as a starting point. 

In thinking about that work, I reflected on the overlap in time frame but the radically different histories of these places. Yet, despite those differences and their geographic distance, through the circulation of images, through the circulation of publications, there were overlaps and connections and themes in conversation. I began to think that focusing on Ghana as well could further complicate and complement those explorations. From there, necessarily, the exhibition reaches beyond those three countries in following the flows of visual culture, of populations, of ideas.

In March 2020—before rushing back to the states and into pandemic-related lockdown—I was on a research trip to Johannesburg where I spent time with Ernest Cole’s papers in the Historical Papers Research Archive at Wits University. Cole’s exhaustive research in support of House of Bondage is evident in his extensive notes and his collection of booklets, magazines, newspapers, and more. Cole annotated many of these texts refuting the official accounts of the apartheid state. When the pandemic started, I wasn’t sure of the fate of the exhibition and whether I could reach out to collections beyond Chicago for loans, so I turned my attention even more emphatically to Chicago-area collections to serve as an engine for developing my thinking about the exhibition. With Cole’s papers still very much on my mind, I really dug into libraries and archives—especially the Herskovits Library at Northwestern and Regenstein Library at UChicago—as I focused on the material through which photography circulated most broadly in the 1960s before art museums and galleries in many parts of the world, including South Africa, Ghana, and Mali, began taking photography seriously as art. Books, magazines, newspapers, posters, and booklets were especially important.

“I wanted to hold space for the hope that the makers of photographs have for the medium’s capacity to represent aspects of lived experience,” says curator Leslie M. Wilson.
Credit: Robert Chase Heishman

Time also plays an important role in the exhibition. The long 1960s suggests an expansive temporal framework that allows for bleed. Can you discuss what the long 1960s means to you and the narratives it opened up for you?

I was living in South Africa back in 2015-2016, and during that time, a major period of student-led protests took place, motivated most directly by an announced plan to raise fees for university education—but more broadly by the colonial legacies and profound inequalities enduring in South Africa. There was a noticeable uptick of interest in the Black Consciousness Movement that emerged in South Africa in the 1960s, and I was really struck by the ways that it felt like the 60s were back—not only ideologically, but even in fashion, in style. I found myself thinking a lot about what students who hadn’t lived through that period of time and who were born after the official end of apartheid in 1994 were calling forth. And then I was thinking about how different that 60s was across southern Africa—where many countries were still mired in anti-colonial and anti-racist struggle—from what is so often thought about when the 60s are referred to in Africa, which is a shorthand for liberation and independence. Recent books like James Meyer’s The Art of Return: The Sixties and Contemporary Culture (2019) encouraged me to go even further in this direction. And then, there are my own imaginings about the 60s, a time that I didn’t personally experience but which has felt so culturally and politically alive in my life. That sense of presence has been fostered especially through the photographs and stories that my parents share, having immigrated to the United States from Jamaica in that decade, emphatically embracing their lives in Brooklyn, New York, while remaining closely connected to their West Indian community and roots. And so I’m thinking about Africa and thinking about diaspora and the lead up to and far-reaching legacies of the 60s.

Photographs by Seydou Keïta
Credit: Robert Chase Heishman

I am also interested in photography’s relationship to time. The exhibition considers the material life of a photograph. Can you talk about moments in the exhibition where a photo’s meaning or impact changes through its transformation or distribution?

Yes, the ways in which photographs are reproduced and the ways in which they mutate and are subjected to other reimaginings and uses than those of their makers is crucial to the exhibition. This can be seen with some of Ernest Cole’s photographs from House of Bondage.

Cole was very committed to the book as a form for telling a powerful story about Black life under apartheid and the layout of the book and the control he could exercise over the relationship between image and text was very important to him. But as the struggle against apartheid continued into the decades that followed, many activists pulled images from the book to use in posters, pamphlets, and magazines. In the different uses of Cole’s photograph of young men behind bars, the contrast in the photograph is significantly heightened, it’s cropped, it’s given a sepia treatment, it’s adapted into a drawing. It is reimagined and remade over and over again as an icon of struggle. Reportedly, the use of Cole’s work without attribution or permission frustrated Cole, but it also speaks to the ways that a photograph can take on a life of its own. With examples of the use of Cole’s photograph in this way in the section of the exhibition titled “Again & Again,” I wanted to think about the photograph as a kind of zombie—it is alive in the present but shaped by a moment that has passed. 

Ernest Cole, From “House of Bondage,” 1960s, Gelatin silver print. Smart Museum of Art, The University of Chicago, Gift of the Estate of Lester and Betty Guttman, 2014.224
Credit: Ernest Cole / Magnum Photo

Unlike other media, a photograph retains its medium-specificity when reproduced in other print media—a black-and-white image remains a black-and-white image; however, “not all realisms” exhibits photographic sources transformed in the paintings and collages of Njideka Akunyili Crosby, Romare Bearden, and Sam Nhlengethwa. How did you select these artists?

The works by these artists are in a close conversation with photography, using photographs as part of their material form in collage—in the work of Bearden and Nhlengethwa—and as transfers in the work of Crosby. But I’m especially excited about the ways that these artists play with time through their use of photography. Crosby adapts the subjects of Sidibé’s photographs, such as the dancers at the center of his renowned photograph Nuit de Noël (Happy Club), and paints them as larger-than-life figures. Although working in very different modes, these artists draw from the everyday in ways that help viewers see it better, to understand something more about life—life and death, memory and memorialization. 

The exhibition groupings indicate diligent, curious research. Could you share a favorite moment?

I spent a lot of time going through folders in the vertical files collection at Northwestern’s Herskovits Library. And the librarians there—Esmeralda Kale, Crystal Martin, and Gene Kannenberg in particular—know so well that I came across materials that prompted me to audibly gasp, which, you know, is not ideal in a library when you’re supposed to be quiet!

One major moment for me was coming across an issue of the newsletter Dissent, which was produced by the National Union of South African Students (NUSAS) and South African National Students Press Association (SANSPA). That publication sought to “provide some analysis of the South African situation and encourage students to a struggle that requires courage, discipline and tenacity.” In a 1972 issue, an uncredited photograph by Ernest Cole appears in an article tracing the history of the disenfranchisement of  Black South Africans—an article that importantly takes the longer view of its roots in British imperialism and the wider European colonial project and not solely the product of Afrikaner nationalism. Despite its global readership and far-reaching impact, House of Bondage was banned in South Africa, and many there did not engage robustly with the project until after apartheid’s official end in 1994. However, this issue of Dissent, published just six years after the release of Cole’s book, demonstrates that Cole’s images were, in fact, circulating in South Africa following its release, albeit without attribution. Two of Cole’s photographs appear as illustrations in the same issue of Dissent in the article “Poverty, Apartheid and Economic Growth,” featuring the divisive signage of apartheid. Although used as mere illustrations and appearing without captions or analysis, these images signal wider visibility for Cole’s images—if not his book as a whole, in South Africa during the era following the book’s publication. And it speaks to the ways that Cole’s photographs circulated through their separation from the banned book.

Another key moment was when I came across an accordion booklet made in 1955 that outlines the Volta Dam River Project. The planning for that project was underway during colonial rule, before the Gold Coast officially became Ghana, and it was a project influentially promoted by then-Prime Minister Kwame Nkrumah. The booklet targeted audiences with a range of literacy levels—featuring text written in English and Ewe. It brings photographs, drawings, and text together to tell a story about this major industrial project, one that would displace many people in its efforts to accelerate aluminum production, thereby diversifying the country’s market beyond cocoa as its primary export. That booklet shows the dynamic ways that the government sought to reach audiences with its message, joining with a traveling film program shown in a mobile tent among other outreach efforts.

“not all realisms: Photography, Africa, and the Long 1960s”
Through 6/4: Tue-Wed, Fri-Sun 10 AM-5 PM, Thu 10 AM-8 PM, Smart Museum of Art, The University of Chicago, 5550 S. Greenwood, smartmuseum.uchicago.edu, free

‘Stop, and uplift each other’

‘Stop, and uplift each other’

For the last decade, Christopher Mike-Bidtah (Diné) who goes by the stage name Def-i, has been hosting the annual Gathering of MCs where Native hip-hop artists gather in community to perform and spread encouraging messages for listeners.

Def-i has been a vital part of the New Mexican hip-hop community, at one point co-hosting New Mexico’s longest running hip-hop weekly event, “Vinyl & Verse” with the late Wake Self. During Gathering of Nations in 2011, an unrelated event saw an influx of Native emcees, some who didn’t get a chance to perform. Def-i created a last minute event—the inaugural Gathering of MCs—co-hosted by MC/DJ Speed One to showcase Native hip-hop. 

“At the beginning, we were hoping for it to be inter-tribal in a way that’s all inclusive, that anybody can be a part of. Not just Natives or Indigenous emcees, but just anybody could get down. That was the basic idea—for it to feel like a global community over time.”

He describes the arrival of Native peoples for Gathering weekend as a “resurgence,” where Albuquerque transforms into a mecca for Indigenous artists, creatives and communities.

A$h Da Hunter (Yavapai/Apache) is on the lineup for this year’s Gathering of MCs. She began rapping towards the end of 2017.

More than just a powwow

“I was in a relationship that put me into a hospital. When I left, I was really angry and I wrote a diss track about my ex-boyfriend,” she said.

She liked her sound, and the rest is history. Her first performance took place at Gathering of MCs in 2022, and she’s been on the rise since. In February, she was featured on Mato Wayuhi’s (Oglala Lakota) latest single, “Stankface,” and performed it alongside the “Reservation Dogs” composer at an NBA halftime show for the Phoenix Suns.

Her latest album, “Playing With Prey,” released in March. 

A$h is looking forward to meeting new people and wholeheartedly admits that she’s most excited for the crowd’s reaction to her music. She entered her first Gathering of MCs unsure if she had what it took to be a performer, but now she’s returning to broaden her horizons and audience.

For up-and-coming Native artists, her advice is simple — don’t get caught up in competing with your relatives, “stop and uplift each other.”

As for newcomers, this weekend will be the first time August Remedy performs in Albuquerque. Joshua Long (Diné), Kylie Jim (Diné) and Dylan Jim (Diné), all from Flagstaff, Arizona, will be performing Saturday evening at Native Guitars Tour “The Main Event.” They’re excited to meet other Native musicians off the screen and in-person.

About their name, Long explains, “We landed on ‘August’ because that’s the month we were in. Then ‘Remedy’ because we all came from church and we like the idea of hope and encouragement behind all the songs that we want to sing.” 

Kylie Jim describes their music as an upbeat “alternative vibe” with acoustic elements. 

Their new single “Remember to Breathe” will be released April 28. 

The band recounts all the obligations they have outside of their musical endeavors. 

“Time’s not forgiving or easy on us.” Long says. 

August Remedy has primarily performed in Native spaces, and the band comments on how their audiences often need some kind of hope. “I fell into depression and loneliness and for me, I just needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. I think that’s what our songs carry—a sense of purpose, hope and encouragement.” 

Heart Museum, a “melodic hardcore” band, will also be playing their first Gathering weekend gig during the Merciless Metal Savages event at the El Rey Theater on Friday, April 28. 

Band leader Toni Heartless (Diné/Choctaw) is no stranger to the Native music scene hosting and collaborating on community music events in Shiprock for years.

“It’s not until this year that we’ve been considered a Native band. That might be because of our members being mixed, like me, being half-Filipino.”

Heart Museum’s recent EP “Relentless” reflects the band’s take on resilience. “I wanted it to be unapologetic. We’re not going to stop. We’re relentless. It’s the first time I spoke on any Indigenous topics because at the end of the day we are a Native band, but we don’t talk about a lot of that stuff, really. We talk about the environment we were raised in and the reality that we perceive.” 

Toni credits the punk community for raising him and that’s why he’s so dedicated to the music. “There’s nothing that means more to me, than someone telling me how my music has helped them. That’s exactly why I do this.”

Last but not least, One Way Sky is an indie rock band from southern Arizona composed of four members: Adrian Thomas (Gila River Indian Community), Cody Bruguier (Tohono O’odham), Loma Manuel (Gila River Indian Community) and Damien Carlos (Tohono O’odham). 

This is the band’s second time performing during Gathering and they’re excited about the networking opportunities, the chance to “take a little drive,” and to showcase how their sound has improved since last year. 

Bruguier recounts, “Back then, it was kinda tough for us to jam because I lived on one reservation and Adrian lived on a different reservation. But he always made that sacrifice to come get me and take me back to his place to jam and then to play shows.” He quietly but proudly affirms they’re sounding really good lately.

The four young men are thankful for the opportunity and looking forward to meeting more Native musicians. Carlos adds that he thinks every event where Native peoples get to gather in community is special given the history of Indigenous peoples.

“The stuff we all went through to even still exist here? It’s almost like a miracle that we’re still here. So any chance we get to come together, it’s a good feeling. It’s an honor to get to play music at these kinds of places.” 

Clemson’s first annual indigenous artist talk

Clemson’s first annual indigenous artist talk

On Friday, April 21, Clemson partnered with Cherokee artists for the first-ever Indigenous Annotations Lab Spring Symposium. The symposium included the artist talk event where Cherokee artists Skye Tafoya, Jakeli Swimmer and Jamison Chas Banks discussed their art and gave readings.

“When I enter rooms, I see patterns; that’s where artistically I bring things from. I look at a space, and I’m able to see lines. And when I see a landscape, I see things that have a sense of belonging to my experiences,” Tafoya shared with the audience when discussing the art of basketry.

“I don’t feel too much of a connection to them because I see it so often, and I see it through tattoos, and I see it through people who don’t even have basketry in their family or understand what it takes to make a basket or what it takes to harvest to make a basket, and so with my own design work I want to be able to connect personally with all of the things I make,” Tafoya stated when asked about deviating from traditional designs.

“For me, I can be academic sometimes and write and write and write, and it takes a lot to sensitize an idea and get it out there, but then when you’re writing things in that academic sense, you’re excluding the people that you’re trying to talk for and what cartooning does for me is allow that imagery to speak more than words can. It’s a reflection of what you see,” Swimmer, a cartoonist, shared.

While discussing creating a positive learning environment, especially through Native collaboration, Banks discussed his previous project with another contemporary artist where he created a space “treated like a sanctuary.” The sanctuary was filled with flowers, plants and screen-printed scrolls and was open to the public.

“It’s an offering. We’re not asking for anything in return. There is nothing required of you but to participate. I like to focus more on not what can be seen, but what can be felt,” Banks states.

Friday’s events were organized by Clemson faculty, Matt Hooley and Santee Frazier of the English department, and Kelsey Sheaffer from the library.

10 Great Album Covers, Chosen by Anthony Wolch of Beyond Marketing Group

10 Great Album Covers, Chosen by Anthony Wolch of Beyond Marketing Group

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Here’s Grace!”

Every inch of this cover art screams Grace. To this day, the mere sight of art is like discovering lost treasure. From the near-impossible contortion and superhuman form, to her sculpted-by-the-G-d’s shape, there is no mistaking this album hides a sound that echoes the outstanding achievement that was capturing Grace Jones in her prime. Interestingly, Island Life is a compilation album by Jones released in 1985, summing up the first nine years of her musical career. The cover art showcasing this well-oiled goddess was created by long-time creative partner, designer Jean-Paul Goude, an illustrator, photographer and graphic designer.

As Goude was once quoted on the creation of this historic image: “I photographed her in a variety of positions, which I combined into a montage that made it possible to show her simultaneously full frontal and in profile, like an Egyptian bas-relief. Then, having transferred the montage to photographic paper, I used it as the preliminary sketch for a painting meant to give the photographic illusion that she is alone, like a contortionist, though on closer look you can see that from a strictly anatomical point of view the pose is impossible to achieve.” The impact is staggering.


Joe Jackson
Night and Day (1982)

5 Questions to Danielle Jagelski (conductor, composer)

5 Questions to Danielle Jagelski (conductor, composer)

Danielle Jagelski is a prime example of socially responsive artistry in the 21st century. Based in New York and Portland, her unique professional profile encompasses opera conducting, vocal composition, modern operatic adaptation, as well as research in mixed-race studies and classical music. She is the music director and co-founder of Renegade Opera, an organization dedicated to making opera more accessible and inclusive for modern audiences.

As an enrolled member of the Oneida Nation of Wisconsin and Redcliff Band of Ojibwe, Jagelski has worked with Native artists to “further the visibility of Indigenous peoples in the fine arts realm.” In March she conducted the U.S.-premiere performances of Missing with Anchorage Opera. The chamber opera, by composer Brian Current and librettist Marie Clements, tells the story of the missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls (MMIWG) crisis in Alaska.

As someone who balances a career as a conductor, composer, and arts administrator, what are some of the benefits and challenges of being in these worlds simultaneously?

Living in these three worlds is a shared experience by many musicians, and though there are some challenges (such as time management), there is also a novel magic to this type of hybrid career. In my musical identity, these roles do not exist separately, but are all part of the same artistic practice. I don’t consider myself a “composing conductor” or a “conducting composer” — for me, one cannot exist without the other. Both conducting and composing teach me so much about music, and where I fit within this incredible space. I value collaboration above all else, and truly believe that we are a reflection of everyone around us. Being able to work with musicians in these two capacities continues to inspire and shape me with every new project.

When it comes to being an admin, I am grateful for the experience of being on both sides of what it takes to make performances happen. As a co-founder of Renegade Opera, the team and I set a goal at the beginning of our company to create an artistic space that is as productive as it is equitable, and the only way to do that is through intentional organization and planning on the administrative side. Having these skills allows me the freedom to work on music that I otherwise would not have had the opportunity to conduct or compose. Similar to composing and conducting, producing and performing cannot exist without each other, so I feel very lucky to know about both sides of the coin.

Danielle Jagelski leads Temple University Opera Theater in a November 2022 performance of Nico Muhly’s “Dark Sisters” — Photo by Joseph V. Labolito

You have developed a long-term relationship with the Cincinnati-based choral ensemble Hear Us Hear Them. Would you tell us about this collaboration and your upcoming premiere of An Anthem?

I am so happy you brought up Hear Us Hear Them (HUHT)! This ensemble is truly something special. An Anthem is a collaborative piece written with Cincinnati’s Poet Laureate, Yalie Saweda Kamara. HUHT began the conversation with us in search of a piece that was thought-provoking as well as hopeful. HUHT is a choir focused on telling the stories of underrepresented musicians, and as it currently stands, much of the existing repertoire telling those stories is sad, slow, and even painful. When we all discussed what we would like to create, we came to the realization that we need music that is not just thought-provoking and true, but also uplifting and emboldened. We wanted music that was joyful, while not pushing the “hard stuff” under the rug.

Yalie’s words are so true to this concept, so I took the approach of staying true to the rhythm and musical elements that already existed within it. This was such a wonderful project, and really allowed me to work through some of the conversations many composers have with themselves, such as, “Is this writing ‘academic’ enough?” Yalie had also been told these things earlier in her career — that “you don’t want to be a sentimental writer.” But, truly, what does that mean? Does it mean that our music has to be difficult to understand in order to be ‘high art’?

I had a great conversation recently with HUHT Artistic Director Harry Mathurin-Cecil and Executive Director Jaime Sharp about serialism after WWII, how it was so needed after the atrocities, that it reflected the needs of the people after that difficult time. So we came to the question: What do we need now, here? I don’t know the answer exactly, but I know that — for me, at least — writing from the heart and writing from the mind do not have to be mutually exclusive.

I was fortunate to be at Samantha Williams’ American Patriots concert, where she premiered your song cycle gichi-mookomaan-aki. Could you talk about writing this cycle and the musical elements that inspired you?

This song cycle was born out of Samantha’s goal to explore what it means to be American from three different perspectives: Indigenous, Black Americans, and working-class white Americans. She conducted over 50 interviews with people from those communities, then commissioned composers of the corresponding identity. Writing this cycle was a unique process because our goal was to leave the text of the interviews as unaltered as possible.

There are 574 federally recognized tribes within the boundaries of the U.S., each with distinct and unique cultures. I am a citizen of the Oneida Nation and Red Cliff Band of Ojibwe on my mother’s side, and from Polish Catholic settler communities from my father’s side, and the interviewees were from a wide range of tribes, communities, and backgrounds. The goal of the project was not to try to represent the “Native American Experience” as a whole, because that would be impossible, but rather to dive deeper into each individual’s experience.

I took elements from the patterns of speech, and the subjects they discussed. For one of the songs, the interviewee spoke about being raised on a military base, describing the care that the military takes when raising and lowering the flag, and the care that is absent for many people who live in the U.S. I chose to take the melody of “Taps” and transform it with consideration to the duration of his answers to the questions, the number of words he chose to use, and where he paused within his descriptions to form the song. Other songs focus heavily on repetition; the words people shared with Samantha and me often repeated or circled back in the conversation, so I used music to make this more obvious to the audience. I think that when speaking, repetition can often be experienced as a distraction, but in music, repetition is a powerful device to invite people to listen a bit more carefully.

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Much of your work is dedicated to promoting visibility for Indigenous artists. What are some clear and actionable ways that arts organizations can help?

This is an interesting question, and it has a giant/multifaceted answer that I am definitely not equipped to answer for the entire Indigenous community by myself. However, I am happy to steer people to some great work others are doing. In my opinion, each organization should take the time to analyze where they are when it comes to working with Indigenous performers, and where they would like to be. Native people are not a monolith, and neither is each arts community. Everything depends on the people in your community, the land you are living on, and the education level of the organization and audience.

A great place to start would be to engage with the Indigenous community from your local area, and then contact some existing organizations to educate your company on next steps,  such as Indigenous Direction (Ty Defoe and Larissa Fasthorse), or First Nations Performing Arts (Emily Johnson and Ronee Penoi).

I will speak from my own experience and the experiences of my close collaborators — when you hire or commission a Native musician, do not do it with expectations of *Indigenous* work (cue ‘eagle cry’ sound effect); rather, focus on the work the artist wants to bring to you, which very well could have audible Traditional Native elements, but also may not. Do not commission them for what your audience and organization expect to hear from a Native artist, but rather for what they will bring from their own artistic practice. Put care into working with and hiring the musician, not the musician’s ethnic/racial, etc. identity. I believe this is a powerful way to fight tokenism.

Danielle Jagelski – Photo by Rachel Hadiashar

Danielle Jagelski — Photo by Rachel Hadiashar

What are some other upcoming projects that you are looking forward to?

Upcoming conducting engagements include Don Giovanni at Aquilon Music Festival on July 21-23; the live premiere of Adams Run by Ruby Fulton and Baynard Woods on Sept. 7-10, in Portland, with Renegade Opera; and Scalia/Ginsburg by Derrick Wangwith, on Sept. 23, with Opera Ithaca.

In composer land, I have two ongoing projects with a couple of my closest friends and collaborators. The first is a cello suite in collaboration with Philip Kettler (made possible by New Native Theatre) based on the original music I wrote for This Is How We Got Here by Keith Barker. The second is for solo percussion in collaboration with Colleen Bernstein, focusing on natural and artificially created patterns. Both of these humans have such generosity and curiosity in their work, as well as a physicality with their instruments that is so inspiring to me. With these two pieces, I am interested in writing for the specific player — I want someone to look at the score and recognize that this was written specifically for them. This type of writing takes time and care from everyone involved, but really allows us to “let the Ferrari out of the garage” and create a piece that is deeply connected to the player, the composer, and the relationship we’ve built.

I CARE IF YOU LISTEN is an editorially-independent program of the American Composers Forum, and is made possible thanks to generous donor and institutional support. Opinions expressed are solely those of the author and may not represent the views of ICIYL or ACF.

You can support the work of ICIYL with a tax-deductible gift to ACF. For more on ACF, visit the “At ACF” section or composersforum.org.

Pittsburgh-native sax star brings tour home

Pittsburgh-native sax star brings tour home

This is WESA Arts, a weekly newsletter by Bill O’Driscoll providing in-depth reporting about the Pittsburgh area art scene. Sign up here to get it every Wednesday afternoon.

The career of acclaimed baritone saxophonist Leo Pellegrino and his group Too Many Zooz was launched with a combination of an ancient form of public entertainment — busking — and one of the newest, the viral video.

But for Pellegrino, the path that led the group to European tours and even a national TV appearance with Beyoncé began in his hometown of Pittsburgh, where Too Many Zooz returns next week.

Pellegrino — stage name: “Leo P.” — remembers in childhood playing a clarinet his mother, Mary Shea, gave him, and accompanying his father, musician and performance artist Steve Pellegrino, on a dance classic or two. “I kinda got my chops together with ‘The Clarinet Polka,” he said, by phone from his home, in Jersey City, N.J. “That one’s really tough.”

Pellegrino also still touts Pittsburgh’s High School for the Creative and Performing Arts. “That was an amazing school,” he said. “The teachers are top-notch. I got my own private lesson for free. I feel super lucky!”

Too Many Zooz formed 10 years ago this coming August, while Pellegrino was studying at the Manhattan School of Music. He’d actually had some trepidation about risking the pursuit of music as a career. His earliest gigs in New York City subway stations with drummer David “King of Sludge” Parks and trumpeter Matt “Doe” Muirhead cured that anxiety.

“Within the first few times of playing in the subway, I wasn’t scared any more about having a career,” he said. “I knew I was legit. Because I was making as much money or more money than anyone who was down there, even [who]had been there for 10, 20 years. That was the first time I was like, ‘Aw, no, I have an undeniable talent.’”

Too Many Zooz call their infectious, all-instrumental blend of jazz, funk and house music “brass house,” and they play it with a verve honed on subway platforms, accented by neon-colored threads (and, in Pellegrino’s case, hair) along with Pellegrino’s crazy-legs dance moves.

Their show translates online: YouTube videos — like a train-hopping rendition of their tune “Bedford” — have drawn millions of views each. In 2015, the group toured, and fielded a call from Beyoncé’s musical director, who asked them to cut some accompaniment for her album “Lemonade.” (That’s Doe blowing trumpet on “Formation.”) In 2016, they released their debut album, and accompanied Beyoncé and the Dixie Chicks on stage at the Country Music Awards.

There’s been more, including Pellegrino’s first solo album (2022’s jazz-leaning “Coming Up Aces”); readers of Downbeat magazine voting him 2022’s best baritone saxophonist; and Pellegrino playing sax on the soundtrack of “Babylon.” (Justin Hurwitz, composer of the film’s score, is a big Zooz fan.)

Next week, Too Many Zooz begin their latest tour, starting May 4, in Harrisburg, and the next night hit Mr. Smalls Theatre (where they headlined the venue’s first mainstage show after the pandemic shutdown, way back in July 2021).

The short tour of the Northeastern U.S. is a joint effort with like-minded, horn-driven outfits Lucky Chops (Pellegrino’s previous band) and Moon Hooch. Too Many Zooz’s eclectic set typically includes lots of originals, as well as covers as apparently far afield as AC/DC’s “TNT.” This show will be a bit different: In deference to the lung power demanded of horn players, the three bands will split six 20-minute sets evenly between them.

They’re calling the package Lucky Moon Zooz. Find more information is here.

A sign for the Pittsburgh Cultural Trust Gallery Crawl downtown while people walk by.

Pittsburgh Cultural Trust

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The next Pittsburgh Cultural Trust Gallery Crawl is Fri., April 28.

WESA’s Weekend Picks

  1. Celebrated South African choreographer Gregory Maqoma’s Vuyani Dance Theatre makes its Pittsburgh debut with “Cion: A Requiem of Ravel’s Bolero,” at the Pittsburgh Playhouse. The full-length work inspired by Ravel’s music and South African author Zakes Mda’s novel “Cion” gets two performances, 7 p.m. Thu., April 27, and 7 p.m. Fri., April 28.
  2. The Pittsburgh Cultural Trust’s quarterly Gallery Crawls routinely draw thousands. At the spring crawl, attractions at more than one dozen venues include: art-making with a soundtrack at BOOM Concepts’ Trap + Paint series; a WPTS radio local-music showcase; new exhibits at Wood Street Galleries and 937 Gallery; street magicians; and an after-hours silent disco. The Cultural District event runs 5:30 p.m. to midnight Fri., April 28.
  3. Are you up for Pittsburgh’s biggest uncurated art free-for-all? Anytime between 4 p.m. Sat., April 29 and 2 p.m. Sun., April 30, Art All Night has you covered. The 26th annual incarnation will draw thousands of visitors to experience work by hundreds of visual artists and music acts at 31st Street Studios, 77 31st St., in Lawrenceville.
  4. The Mattress Factory’s latest artist-in-residence, Shohei Katayama, takes over parts of two of the museum’s floors for his new installation, titled “As Above, So Below.” The work, which “invites viewers to challenge their perceived reality and consider their place in a complex and ever-changing world,” opens with a free reception 6-8 p.m. Sat., April 29.
  5. The venerable Hemingway’s Summer Poetry Series returns. A large sampling of Pittsburgh’s poets will read at White Whale Bookstore over the next eight Tuesdays, and it starts May 2 with a lineup of Lisa Alexander, Doralee Brooks, Sheila Squillante and Steffan Triplett. 7 p.m. Bloomfield.