Wednesday, July 31, 2013

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: IMAGES


The 1938 film "Kentucky", starring Loretta Young, was on television this morning. 
I've seen it twice. 
As an Afican-American woman, who's lived through "colored", "Negro", "Black", "Afro-American" and the like, and witnessed "Black History Week" morph into a whole month, I wondered if one can actually watch a film like "Kentucky" in 2011 and just be entertained?

Each time one hears "Yessuh boss", does it do something to one's insides? 
Is little "Susie Mae" with her braids sticking out all over the place, regarded any differently than Pippi Lingstockings? 
Is the maid any different than Shirley Booth's "Hazel"? 
When one sees the starched and pressed dignity, and hears the articulate dialogue of the white actors alongside the labored mumbles, drawls, unnecessary laughter, and shabby costumes of the black actors, is the deliberate difference too much to take? 

Just when you're about to change the channel, you become keenly aware that the cast of uncredited actors could probably tell quite a story of their own. Maybe they didn't feel demeaned at all. They were after all, ACTING. 
Who were they? 
Where are they, or their offspring now?

Every time I watch an old movie or classic TV show, I wonder about the fate of the obscure actors in the scenes, and if anyone has bothered to document their participation.

It's not a new revelation, but as a lover of old movies, I've always noted the manner in which African-American actors and actresses were so frequently portrayed. 
"Kentucky" is a period piece, I know, but are we being portrayed with any more, or less dignity in movies today
When African-Americans are in control of how African-Americans are represented on the big and small screen, are we doing any better to improve the way we are perceived, or just feeding into long existing stereotypes, and keeping some viewers comfortable with the tropes and opinions they prefer?

I hate to say it, but based on some contemporary videos and films, I'd rather watch "Kentucky".

ThisTV, a favorite network of mine, is airing "Ana Lucasta" with Eartha Kitt and Sammy Davis, Jr. tonight. 
I'll be watching.

I suppose we have come a long way in film and TV, and have lots to applaud, but we still have a long way to go.


#representationmatters

QUALITY TIME

I had a very pleasant day with my Dad. I was a little taken aback when he announced he would be turning over the teaching of his Sunday School class to one of his mentees. I know how much he enjoys teaching. I think it's one of the primary activities that keeps him engaged and alert. The class itself has morphed into a bit of a family and the socializing is good for him, too.
He still wants to stay on top of things and study ( even though he's concerned about eye strain these days ) so it's pretty cool studying with him, and being a scribe of sorts. Even with access to the internet, he's still sharper than most when it comes to where to find things in the Bible. If he ever really gets the hang of his computer and smart phone, he'll be unstoppable.
Biblegateway and other Bible related websites fascinate him as far as the speed at which passages can be accessed, and how parallel study doesn't involve a table full of big books. I don't think it ever really took him a week to prepare for his class, I think he just loved to study that much. "Better to have more information than you need than to not have enough", he always says.

Today I was grateful for time, patience, energy, common interest--and the ability to write legibly. Dad still prefers his spiral bound notebooks...: )

Saturday, July 13, 2013

SEARCHING FOR WORDS



I wrote a poem several years ago... Just wanted to share.

LET IT GO

No one is saying you're wrong to feel the way you do
To not feel a single thing at all, is worse for you
But look at the hours you lament
Wondering where your time and effort went

Release all the people who've hurt you so
The pain that you're suffering they'll never know
Even if you flee, run, or walk away
The scars that you're covering grow day by day

Let it go
Please let it go
Before bitterness sets in, just let it go
Just let it go
Please, let it go
There's freedom indeed
Just tell the Lord what He already knows
There's a bright side somewhere
To ease your journey there, just let it go

When you rehearse each and every offense
And wear like a badge the years you have spent
Angry inside and seeking the day
When all who have harmed you are suddenly swept away
The current that sweeps them will drown you first
The life you could have lived yields no fruit, and worst of all
The Father who so cares and showed His love so true
Is powerless to offer forgiveness to you

So, let it go
Please let it go
before bitterness sets in, just let it go
Just let it go
Please let it go
There's freedom indeed
Just tell the Lord what He already knows
There's a bright side somewhere
To ease your journey there, just let it go.

SATURDAY THOUGHTS : "KTVU, Noooooooooooooooo!"

 So....well...umm...just look. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1JYHNX8pdo

Me: Okay. That is NOT funny AT ALL.
Me: Then WHY are you laughing so hard? Stop it!
Me: I am SO mad at myself for laughing. I know better...I'm sorry, but that was... Lord, please forgive me. I know better.
Me: Then why are you STILL laughing? 
You need to repent RIGHT now.
Me: *snicker*
Me: Once again, they were so busy trying to be the FIRST to report, that no one bothered to verify! What makes news outlets think that people don't prefer ACCURATE information? 
We can wait for the truth. 
I PROMISE you we can! 
SMH...That makes no sense....VANESSA, STOP LAUGHING!!!
Me: I'm sorry...really I am. Whew! I need some kleenex. *crying*
Me: I can't even believe you....SMH...
You know what? Grow up. I'm through with you.... Go ahead. Just get it all out.... Are you done?
Me. LOLOLOLOLOL!!!!....
Okay. Whew. 
*sniff*... 
Okay. 
I'm done...
*sniff*

When I got myself partially together, I visited the "How Stuff Works" website to see if there was some name, some explanation for the phenomena I was experiencing, and there is
There's a reason why we laugh at things that a part of us considers hilarious, while another part is fiercely attempting to demonstrate maturity and good manners. 
There's something, concerning laughter, called "The Incongruity Theory". 
According to David Brain, it "suggests that humor arises when logic and familiarity are replaced by things that don't normally go together". 

Read for yourself: "What's funny?"

I needed an excuse; an out; a reason for the depth of my laughter. 
I'm ashamed to say how long I laughed at that clip. Every time I think about how articulately and authoritatively the reporter said "Bang Ding Ow" I still tear up. 

I'm sorry...again, but in the words of Larry the Cable Guy, "I don't care who you are. That's funny right there."...not the tragedy, of course, certainly not the tragedy, just the tragic, careless way that news outlets often handle information, and end up having to apologize profusely (which might strike viewers as funnier than the original blunder ).
 

Friday, July 12, 2013

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: INSPIRED



I went to the movies with a friend to see "20 Feet From Stardom"-- AGAIN. 
I'm encouraged, inspired, and a whole host of other things I can't articulate, and I'll probably go and see it again. I enjoyed it just that much.

I had a studio session today. 
I always love the opportunity to record background vocals. I could do it all day. It's like a holiday. It's fun and challenging, and, for me, is the culmination of all of the wonderful experiences I've had, and lessons I've been taught--directly and indirectly. 

I liked what Cindy Mizelle said: 
"I can be a chameleon...you can change up...you're never bored."
Sheryl Crow's opinion resonated: 
"To me, there's no more heavenly instrument than the voice."

I took Carolene's advice, and scribbled notes this time. Looking at the notes made me laugh. I'm surprised I can read them. 
I bought popcorn this time, too. 
The first time I saw the film, I was simply too moved to eat. Me not eating popcorn at the movies is a big deal.

The way each person's story wove so intricately with those of others, was stunning.  
The film left me with the feeling that somebody else gets it. Somebody else understands the wonderful feeling that comes with blending your voice with the voices of others. 
Somebody else sincerely insists it's not about money or fame.
 
I felt myself cheering for everyone who participated in the film; praying that they'll all persevere, and never lose their genuine love for what they do. 

Seeing the montage of Lisa Fischer singing 4 part harmony was, for me, a great, unforgettable moment in film. 

I absolutely agreed when she said, "I love melodies. I'm in love with the sound vibration, and what it does with other people...I just want to sing."

I'm going to sleep, feeling so grateful for the unselfish way that others share their stories to motivate and inspire others.


#bgvlife
#artmatters
#musichelps
#musicheals

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: PEACE AND QUIET






















It's been a quiet day--so quiet that I thought back to Saturday, and appreciated the quietness even more. 


My Saturday afternoon and evening were punctuated by pounding bass. Something violent and repetitive that was poorly masquerading as music--and amplified--was coming from the park across the street. 
From inside my home, after hours of enduring it, I was happy to hear some guy announce (albeit loudly), "We 'bout to roll up out of here...We really waitin' for the po' po' to throw us outta here...God Bless. Good night. One love."  
And then, all of the party-ers in the park commenced to wobbling. Of course they did. Isn't that the official way to close an event? 

In my mind, I envision a beautiful, Wolftrap-like amphitheater on the grounds of the park that is bordered by the sprawling, now closed, Patricia Roberts Harris Educational Center, and South Capitol, First, and Atlantic Streets. 
Perhaps the flooding problem on the land wouldn't accommodate such a structure, but one can dream. Maybe if there were a beautiful, architecturally stunning, professionally run venue on the land, there would be a little more care taken about the quality of sounds that emanate from the park, and blanket the neighborhood. 

I was reminded of an episode of Dennis The Menace, where he made a home movie of his town, for a class  assignment. "This is our park", he read, as the film was shown, "where people go to rest and walk quietly among the trees."  

Again, one can only dream.

I'm not sure who was being remembered or celebrated, but, from the other side of my closed windows, I could clearly hear that there are plans to make it an annual affair. 
The guy on the mike kept going-- after I was sure he'd announced that the party was over:  
"Last call for the pictures!", he yelled. "We 'bout to get up out of here. It's getting dark, and you know how they are with niggas in the park after dark". 

I could hear every word as if I were outside. 
Maybe he didn't know his voice was bouncing off of the walls of every house, apartment, and business establishment within a 5 mile radius. 
No one, who took the mike, bothered to censor themselves. 
Perhaps it's the sticky area of having a private party in a public place. Does one consider one's surroundings? When police cruisers didn't show up when expected, the guy on the mike insinuated that an "after party" was about to commence. 
I was praying, "Please, God. Please make it rain real rain--the watery kind".

The headache-inducing, surround-sound intrusion, that occasionally descends upon the residents of far SE/SW, demonstrates a lack of consideration that goes along with a group's arrogant assertion of their rights to use a public space.  

Yes. People have a right to party in the park. 
What about the responsibilities to the neighborhood's residents that accompany that right, though? 
Maybe the people who choose to use the park for their events don't see all of the houses and apartments. Maybe it never occurs to them that there are families-- PEOPLE--who might just want to hear themselves think, or sleep, or enjoy the comfort of their own homes on a Saturday afternoon-- without having to don earplugs, or flee.

I actually LIKE music. I love music. 
The junk, however, that rattled the windows all afternoon was too much. 
I wonder if people conclude that, because it's SE/SW, residents are fans of noise and lousy music. Maybe we're supposed to embrace getting soundly cursed out for hours on end. 

I wondered if it would have been tolerated anywhere else in the city. 
The DJ's choice of music didn't take into consideration that there are seniors, and children, and people with working ears living in the neighborhood. 
I wondered what was on the minds of the people whose own children were in attendance --children who probably hadn't anticipated being designated as trash collectors by the guy with the mike. "Ya'll kids grab some trash bags!"
What about the musical trash that their impressionable minds collected all day? (Trash that they will no doubt repeat at school, come September. Adults really shouldn't wonder where children pick up foul language if we're dropping it right in front of them.) 
I guess one good thing about it all was that they weren't litterbugs.

There was live entertainment, too. Some rapper, whose track had issues, opted to free-style, and nobody thought to stop him as he spewed one curse word and slur after another. ( After what I heard, I wish someone would say anything else to me about the unfortunate words of a certain southern chef. ) 
It's not hard to see why people are so quick to bring up rappers whenever the "N" word comes up--and there was nothing endearing, hip, or positively cultural about it's incessant use last Saturday.

Funny thing about music. It really does have power. I felt like my ear drums had been mauled. I wished I'd had the wherewithal to lock the DJ in a room with the entire Stevie Wonder catalog. Didn't he have any "Earth, Wind and Fire" or "Maze, featuring Frankie Beverly"?  It's true. If the music had been something I preferred, I probably wouldn't even have cared how unbelievably loud it was. I may have even opened my windows. Unfortunately, it was just annoying, muffled, and grating. There was no escaping it except to leave home and seek sanctuary in the neighborhood of someone else. 
 I know that Art is subjective. What I heard all day last Saturday, however, sounded like the ignorant mumblings of a bunch of profane, angry people who missed way too many days of school. There was just nothing pleasing about it. Blasting from outside, the noise was penetrating brick, mortar and glass and not drawing me any closer to post-Sugar Hill Gang rap at all. Somebody, who shouldn't have had one, had a mike, and someone else was controlling the sound..."Welcome to my hood?" ..."A nigga like me..." "I'm different..." "Have a baby by me..." "Blame it on the alcohol..."  Yep. I know lyrics I wasn't trying to learn. I know. Someone likes it. Different strokes....I know...I know....Sometimes, it seems we're going backward. Sometimes I fear that an entire generation has no idea what good music sounds like.
Yep. It's official. I'm getting old....

The silence was so welcomed on Saturday night, but it didn't last. The post-Fouth of July revelers still had leftover fireworks to explode. ( I do believe they get their supplies from the Pentagon.) Then, to top it all off, I heard that tell-tale screech...then the sound of impact. Drivers have to learn that "No turn on red" isn't a suggestion. Saturday evening, there was yet another accident at the same spot where a pedestrian was killed in April. Sirens then overshadowed the sound of the fireworks, but any sounds were better than that music.

I really, really appreciated the calm of today, and I concede: Bellevue isn't always a noisy place...: )