March 28, 2018

“A must-see for any arts lover...successfully takes the temperature of our fractured, terrifying, bloodied moment.”

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Bebe Miller Company In a Rhythm • April 5, 6, and 7, 2018 at 7:30 p.m.

In a Rhythm is a suite of new works inspired by the writings of Gertude Stein, Toni Morrison, and David Foster Wallace. $30 Regular / $24 Seniors / $10 Students colum.edu/dancecenterpresents Find us on

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WELCOME

SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY The South Side Weekly is an independent nonprofit newsprint magazine written for and about neighborhoods on the South Side of Chicago.

We publish in-depth coverage of the arts and issues of public interest alongside oral histories, poetry, fiction, interviews, and artwork from local photographers and illustrators. The South Side Weekly is dedicated to supporting cultural and civic engagement on the South Side and to providing educational opportunities for developing journalists, writers, and artists.

say beautiful

THE ARTS ISSUE

Volume 5, Issue 23 Editor-in-Chief Hafsa Razi Managing Editors Julia Aizuss, Andrew Koski Director of Staff Support Baci Weiler Senior Editors Christian Belanger, Mari Cohen, Sam Stecklow, Olivia Stovicek

Politics Editor Education Editor Stage & Screen Editor Visual Arts Editor Food & Land Editor Music Editor

Adia Robinson Rachel Kim Nicole Bond Rod Sawyer Emeline Posner Christopher Good

Contributing Editors Elaine Chen, Mira Chauhan, Bridget Newsham, Adam Przybyl, Amy Qin, Rachel Schastok, Kristen Simmons, Michael Wasney, Yunhan Wen Data Editor Jasmine Mithani Radio Editor Erisa Apantaku Radio Hosts Andrew Koski, Olivia Obineme, Sam Larsen Social Media Editors Bridget Newsham, Sam Stecklow Visuals Editor Ellen Hao Deputy Visuals Editors Kahari Black, Ellie Mejía, Lizzie Smith Photography Editor Jason Schumer Layout Editor Baci Weiler Staff Writers: Maddie Anderson, Ashvini Kartik-Narayan, Kiran Misra, Anne Li Staff Radio Producer: Bridget Vaughn Fact Checkers: Abigail Bazin, Sam Joyce, Bridget Newsham, Adam Przybyl, Hafsa Razi, Sam Stecklow, Tiffany Wang Staff Photographers: milo bosh, Kiran Misra, Jason Schumer Staff Illustrators: Siena Fite, Natalie Gonzalez, Katherine Hill, Courtney Kendrick, Kamari Robertson Webmaster Publisher Operations Manager

Pat Sier Harry Backlund Jason Schumer

The Weekly is produced by an all-volunteer editorial staff and seeks contributions from across the city. We distribute the paper each Wednesday in the fall, winter, and spring. Over the summer we publish every other week.

Send submissions, story ideas, comments, or questions to editor@southsideweekly.com or mail to: South Side Weekly 6100 S. Blackstone Ave. Chicago, IL 60637 For advertising inquiries, contact: (773) 234-5388 or advertising@southsideweekly.com

“W

here does art live?” we asked in last year’s Arts Issue, exploring city initiatives, programs, and arts spaces throughout the South Side. This year, in this collection of reviews, interviews, profiles, photography, and visual art, above all we spotlight the voices of the artists themselves, asking: “Who’s responsible for that life?” Whether it’s the museum docent who introduces art to children from all over the city, the artist-curator starting a conversation about what an artistic community in her neighborhood can be, or the visual artist who emerged from the Savemoney collective, we hone in on the individuals—the everyday and the exceptional, the seasoned veterans and the young up-and-comers—who pinpoint what their communities need and how they can serve them.

Artistic works breathe life into their communities, but in this issue, we don’t forget what it takes to be an artist, or to become one.

Our cover offers a parable of the growth that the following pages take to heart: that which comes to fruition slowly and organically within us as time passes. Whether in the artists’ own words or in our writers’ interrogation, these pieces root themselves in the artistic processes and inner lives that always come before art takes the stage or the mic or the exhibition wall. We see their blossoming in our customary print gallery that closes the issue: in this coda, the distinct works of art, quiet, fierce, and engaged, gesture to all the artists we only wish we could include.

Cover artwork by Rhonda Wheatley, photograph by Jason Schumer

Students talk art for the future grace hauck...6 living in the blankest of times

From the familiar to the fictional within the space of one line mari cohen...8 breaking it down

This was not your ordinary docent-led museum tour. veronica karlin...10 state of nature

“It’s all about raising people's vibrations and consciousness.” christopher good...12 looking in from the outside

Segregation doesn’t come from today. It’s organized.

It’s institutionalized. audrey teo...14 painting politics

“I believe only education and arts can really change any society.” delgado delgado pineda...16 words, pictures, and gestures from louder than a bomb

“Don’t expect this to rhyme, I just want this to be a long hate letter to you.” kiran misra...18 portrait of an abstract contemporary artist

“That makes me able to do whatever I want. As long as my work has a lasting impact on people, is wellrespected for what it is, whether I'm here or dead.” latoya cross...21 a little unity

“I’m also really deeply trying to understand how I can utilize my studio practice to work, help, heal communities.” erisa apantaku...24 youthful and vibrant

The meaning of Yollocalli cames from an Aztec language where yolotl means “heart” and kalli means “house.” kristen simmons...26 a print gallery............27

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 5

Say Beautiful

GRACE HAUCK

Blackstone Bicycle Works cultivates youth artists

BY GRACE HAUCK

O

n Fridays after school, seventhgrade student Imani Lamb takes the short walk from Andrew Carnegie Elementary School to Blackstone Bicycle Works (BBW), located in the Experimental Station.

She meets up with friends, snacks on the provided fresh fruit, and heads upstairs to the classroom overlooking the community bike shop. It’s time for the Friday art workshop, and program leader Tita Thomas has a project for her students: design your dream bicycle helmet.

“On my bicycle helmet, it says ‘Ways to Say Beautiful.’ I think that everyone and everybody is beautiful, so I wrote the ways to say beautiful in every single language to let you know that everybody is beautiful,” Lamb said.

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According to a mission statement hanging in BBW’s main room, it’s a “fullservice bike shop dedicated to promoting ecological practices and empowering youth—teaching mechanical skills, job skills, and business literacy to boys and girls ages 8-18.” Students even swing by the local hub to play basketball and borrow bikes for short rides too.

As a revolutionary bike shop, BBW is an integral part of the variety of educational and cultural programs hosted by the Experimental Station in Woodlawn. In October 2016, community-taught visual artist and cultural organizer Tita Thomas, who formerly volunteered at the shop, began hosting a Friday afternoon art program in conjunction with the University of Chicago’s South Side in Focus, a

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nonprofit that supports artists, small businesses, and individuals across the South Side through community art projects. Born and bred on the South Side, Thomas uses art as a tool for self-healing and as a form of cultural resistance and community liberation, according to her artist biography.

Simultaneously furthering and spotlighting the shop’s larger mission, “Art with Tita Thomas” aims to empower youth, teach students about forms and materials that can be used to document and promote the life of the shop, support practical needs like creating signage and instructional materials, and use bicycles and bike culture as a point of departure for exploring broader concepts. Youths that attend the weekend programs over the summer hail from across the 60637,

60617, and 60619 zip codes, according to Experimental Station Assistant Director Matthew Searle. Most academic-year participants, like Imani Lamb, attend Carnegie Elementary.

In order to create her helmet, Lamb googled translations of “beautiful” in more than a dozen languages with help from South Side in Focus volunteers.

Across the table—scattered with crayons, markers, and colored pencils— the Slack sisters were designing their own rainbow-themed helmets.

“I love making rainbows. The thing that I do when I’m bored—all I do is just get a notebook and some crayons and make a rainbow,” said Eliyah Slack, a fifth-grade student at Andrew Carnegie Elementary.

EliJournee Slack, a third-grade student at Carnegie, echoed Eliyah’s thoughts: “When it’s fire like at the bottom of a rocket ship—I did that but it’s a rainbow. I wanted to make the helmet pretty and so everyone can wear it. Rainbows aren’t just for girls. I like art because when you draw stuff, it’s not just for certain people. Sometimes it’s for everybody.”

Last spring, the artists hosted a gallery opening on the ground floor of

YOUTH the Experimental Station. The event featured a large dome made of tires, drinks from Build Coffee, and twelve colorfully painted square panels, each inspired by conversations that Thomas had with her students.

“We were working on a sign for the bike shop for the future,” Eliyah Slack said. “Tita asked us questions about how it would look in the future, and we have different signs for it.”

“Today was designing your own bicycle helmet, last year was envisioning the future of Blackstone and how we shape communities to fit that future,” said program volunteer Gabe Barrón. “A big theme of this whole year is: how do we cultivate community? Tita brings in lots of elements of Afrofuturism, which I think is incredible inspiration for the kids and volunteers like myself.”

The bright panels display phrases such as “Every wheel gets greased,” “We got bars,” and “Love is in here.”

“In the past, we did a project called ‘Every wheel gets greased.’ We painted a picture, and I worked on that with everybody else,” Lamb said.

One panel, a portrait of shop ancestor Tommie L. Hollins donning a helmet, currently hangs beside the shop door. This particular panel was a main feature of the inaugural art show, which also highlighted Hollins’s bike, drawings, and hand-made flowers.

“He was the elder of the shop and was often the first introduction to the shop. Actually, Tommie was the first person that I interacted with when I first came to the shop. He greeted me at the

gate right there. So he’s a large part of what people think of when they think of Blackstone Bicycle Works,” Thomas said, adding, “He became an ancestor the same year that I started the program, so it was really important for me to acknowledge the past and the impact that the past has made in this program.”

Many others, following in Hollins’s footsteps, have left lasting impressions on the program. Thomas reflected on the making of the “Love is in here” panel, which she found particularly memorable.

“That entire process was so beautiful because it was the most collaborative project I’ve ever seen. Literally every

person in the bicycle shop put their hands on a paintbrush, contributed to the design, helped hang it—helped in some kind of way to make it possible. I feel like ‘Love is in here’ really captures everything I have experienced here at the bike shop. Gabe’s mom was even part of it. I love telling people that because that really emphasizes how much of a community collaboration it was—from the young people, to the staff, to our volunteers’ families,” Thomas said.

In the past, the youths have also created zines and collaborated with a professional photographer. Now, they have big plans for this year’s upcoming

spring exhibition. In addition to their weekly projects, the students are painting a group banner, creating a new zine that draws on student drawings and project documentation, and constructing a cardboard model of the bike shop, planned in collaboration with artist Dorian Sylvain at the Hyde Park Art Center.

Some students even plan to pursue art long-term.

“I just want to be an artist. I want to paint, draw, and a lot of other stuff.

I might do posters about how people in the past helped stop slavery. I want to put them in schools, in history museums, and also places where kids and grownups can see about people that were slaves in the past and helped free slaves,” EliJournee Slack said.

“I like that you’re able to just go on your creative side and be able to just express yourself,” said Carnegie fifthgrader Laila Kersh.

“I think art is really cool, and I think it’s a really big way to express yourself and how you feel about everything!” said Carnegie sixth-grader Crysten Epting, adding, “I think art is not something that people just do. I think art is something that people dream about or think about.

I think that art should be involved with people’s everyday life.” The opening reception of the second annual “Bike Shop Art Show” will take place on Wednesday, May 23rd, 5pm–8 pm.

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 7

Living in the Blankest of Times

Daniel Borzutzky’s “Lake Michigan” puts forth the monotony and horror of violence

BY MARI COHEN

D

aniel Borzutzky’s new poetry collection Lake Michigan slides from the familiar to the fictional in the space of one line, so quickly you might almost miss it. In the collection’s opening poem, “Lake Michigan, Scene 0,” the poet writes, “And the mayor said… we can no longer have empty schools we can no longer have / failing schools we can no longer have public schools we can no longer have public / bodies.”

And thus a description of the state of Chicago education naturally ushers in the world Borzutzky builds in Lake Michigan, in which prisoners—their bodies privatized and owned—are taken to a secret site on Chicago’s shores and tortured and killed, again and again, line after line. It’s a world in which symbols of injustice in Chicago—such as the Banana Republic store where activists protested the death of Laquan McDonald or the radiators that Commander Jon Burge used to torture victims—mingle with the violence of other sites, ranging from the U.S.-Mexico border to Chile to Nazi Germany. The details run together until it’s hard to pick apart the referential from the constructed, a reminder that the horrors we know may not be so different from the horrors dreamt up in the farthest recesses of the poetic imagination.

Borzutzky has long been interested in drawing connections between Chicago, his current home, and Chile, where his

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parents are from. The connections are more than just surface-level, since a group of Chilean economists known as the “Chicago boys” implemented free-market economic policies in Chile in the seventies and eighties based on training they received at the University of Chicago. At a recent event at the Seminary Co-op, in conversation with fellow Chicago poet Nate Marshall, Borzutzky discussed being inspired in 2012 as the Chicago teachers’ strike happened concurrently with education strikes in Chile in response to privatization. He explored this territory in The Performance of Becoming Human, which won a 2016 National Book Award.

Lake Michigan continues in that vein: this time, Borzutzky found echoes of the 2015 revelations about Homan Square, a site on the West Side where police held arrestees off the books, in the forced “disappearing” of political dissenters in Pinochet’s Chile.

“The contexts are completely different, but there has been this privatization of the economy and this complete abandonment of public surfaces in poor communities—that’s been happening at the same time as state and police repression, and those two things go hand in hand,” Borzutzky said.

The book, he added, emerged partially from a desire to examine how “extreme” policies have become mainstream.

Imagining a secret detention site

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on the shores of Chicago’s freshwater ocean becomes a fruitful way to explore Chicago’s many contradictions. As Borzutzky and Marshall discussed at the Seminary Co-op, the lake is stunningly beautiful and yet filled with E.coli; its beaches are points of public access but have historically seen violent fights over public rights to the space, such as in the 1919 race riots. Borzutzky makes this imagery central in Lake Michigan. In “Lake Michigan, Scene 6,” Borzutzky places “the waters that in the sunlight reminded Simone de Beauvoir of silk and flashing diamonds” in the same space as “the chromium spilled from the US Steel Plant in Portage, Indiana” and “the birds colonized by E. coli.” “Lake Michigan, Scene 5” imagines the beach itself as a great organism, slaughtered by a Chicago that cannot seem to keep from destroying the life that inhabits it: “The city keeps smashing the dying beach / Smashing and smashing till the sand and rocks are obliterated / It says to the dying beach don’t die we love you so much / But the beach keeps dying.”

As in these lines, Lake Michigan is all about describing horror directly, without romanticization. Most of the poems take the same format: long lines double spaced on the page, with part of a phrase repeating again and again, only a few nouns changing each time.

“They put paint on my eyes / they put mud on my eyes / they put sludge on my

eyes...they asked me what I did with my mind / they asked me what I did with my papers / they asked me when I last saw my parents,” the speaker intones in “Lake Michigan, Scene 2.” Later in that poem: “He asked me why I couldn’t keep my balance / he hit me when I tried to keep my balance / he spat on me when I fell to the floor / He kicked me when I fell to the floor.”

The effect of these repeating, matter-of-fact lines is that the book becomes tedious to read at times. When reading his poems aloud, Borzutzky’s voice sounded almost monotonous. This effect is, in part, strategic: the reader is forced to follow along as acts of violence are broken down into pieces and listed one by one, so that there is no way to speed past them. And when Borzutzky does break out of a repeating pattern and offer a new image, the effect can be stunning.

“We live in the blankest of times,” the speaker repeats multiple times throughout the book, and the poems do project a sense of blankness: the speaker is usually an anonymous “I” or “we,” with few identifying features and no sense of emotional response. This anonymity allows Borzutzky to bring together brutalities of various regimes and eras and foist them onto a universalized body.

But there is something lost in this approach. Living in the “blankest of times” is so devastating precisely because

LIT we, as humans, are not blank. Those brutalized by state violence are not just bodies but souls, with favorite colors and cavities in their teeth and baby pictures, somewhere. To let the reader access the humanity, and particularity, of its speakers would deepen, not detract from, Borzutzky’s stark descriptions of violence.

It’s often said that poetry, given its flexibility with content and form, can transmit feelings or insights that prose cannot. It follows that poetry is a suitable medium for emotions and concepts difficult to break down into ordinary sentences and words: love, for example, or death. But the truth is that even poetry might not be adequate to contain the violence that human society has wrought, to accurately transmit stories of Black and brown men systematically tortured into confessing to crimes; young bodies ridden with bullets; camps

designed for systemic murder. And, to his credit, Borzutzky runs headlong into that space of discomfort. Lake Michigan is not afraid to doubt its own power.

At the beginning of the poem’s second act, Borzutzky cites Pablo Neruda’s “Explico Algunas Cosas”: “y por las calles la sangre de los niños / corría simplemente, como sangre de niños,” translating to “and in the streets, the blood of the children ran simply like blood of children.” In “Lake Michigan, Scene 10,” Borzutzky follows Neruda’s lead with a series of similes that are nothing but repetitions: “The police shooting boys are police shooting boys / And the nazis burning Jews are like nazis burning Jews / And the police protecting nazis are like police protecting nazis.” The suggestion is that to poeticize, to create images, might not be an explication but an evasion: some depravity can only be stated as it is.

Borzutzky gets even more literal on the limits of language at the end of “Lake Michigan, Scene 4”: And a boy-soldier shoved a gag in my mouth and told me he was protecting my mouth From saying the wrong thing from having to respond when it sees an injustice From having to scream when it’s beaten From biting through the glands on its tongue From creating a conflict between language and the impossibility of representation And the boy-soldier theorized about speech and told me about how he too had sucked

on this very same gag the one that was in my mouth But then after a few months they took the gag out of his mouth when his silence had earned him some hope.

In addition to offering some of the book’s most beautiful lines, the speaker’s exchange with the boy-soldier suggests that even worse than overestimating language is to say nothing, and that it would be giving in to the powerful for the poet to turn away from Homan Square, from Area 2, from closed schools, from Chile’s detention centers, from the border. It is bleak work; it is not easy to describe the violence of our time; but, Lake Michigan says, we ought to try. Daniel Borzutzky, Lake Michigan. $15.95.

Pitt Poetry Series. 96 pages.

THE

POINT a magazine of the examined life

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NEIGHBORS

Breaking It Down

Questioning and connecting to art with Smart Museum docent Katherine Davis

BY VERONICA KARLIN

A

fter one of Katherine Davis’s tours at the Smart Museum, she gathered her group of two dozen students around Emmanuel Pratt’s wooden art installation outside of the main gallery. To evoke a connection between blues music and the art in the museum, Davis led a call-and-response rendition of “Let the Good Times Roll.”

It worked. The whole group clapped, sang, and even danced along. Between Davis’s rich voice and her vibrant energy, this was not your ordinary docent-led museum tour.

Davis is an alumnus of the Odyssey Project, a free one- to two-year education program spanning subjects across the humanities for income-eligible adults who do not have access to higher education. Created by Illinois Humanities Council and facilitated by the University of Chicago’s Civic Knowledge Project, the program’s goal is to educate adults and help them find careers in the humanities. Four years ago, the Odyssey Project and the UofC’s Smart Museum of Art started a partnership that allows Odyssey Project graduates to become paid docents at the Smart.

More than half of the Smart Museum docents come from the Odyssey Project (the rest are UofC students). Jason Pallas, the Smart’s Manager of Community Engagement and Arts Learning, said that Odyssey Project docents “provide the most relevant and authentic art experience possible, which is the only way to capture the imagination and inspiration of students.” Davis is just one among many docents bringing their diverse backgrounds and life experiences to the Smart Museum.

Davis grew up singing with her family. She started singing in church at a young age, but took a break when she 10 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

was young.

“My voice sounded too bluesy; in church that was forbidden. I thought I had insulted God,” she said.

Davis eventually joined the Sherwood Conservatory. She sang professionally for forty years, participated in various Chicago theater companies, and started her own gospel-singing group.

She toured most of the world, including Japan, France, Italy, and Turkey, singing blues and opera. After years of singing on tour and teaching blues music in CPS, Davis enrolled in the Odyssey Project.

“I wanted to be educated in my own way,” she said. “My lifestyle didn’t let me stay in a classroom too long.”

The Odyssey Project program not only accommodated Davis, but also helped her find a career that built on her enduring passion for the arts. A year ago, Erika Dudley, Harvard alum and a liaison between the Odyssey Project and the Smart Museum, invited Davis to join the docent program. The Odyssey Project and the Smart handpicked alums who they felt would fit the program well.

Davis went to her first meeting at the Smart Museum in September and has been a docent since.

“I love people, I love interacting with people, and I love to entertain,” she said. “Once I got into it, it was like magnets drew me here.”

While studying with the Odyssey Project, Davis went to an art exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art and met Theaster Gates. “When I first saw his art, I looked at it and thought: What?” It looked like ordinary furniture, not what she typically thought of as art. She later learned that the furniture on display at the MCA was made out of materials from a closed-down Wrigley’s chewing-gum factory.

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KIRAN MISRA

She said she remembered thinking, “How many times did I create something, or I knew somebody that created something, but we didn’t know the value?”

Davis had a similar experience when she first visited the Smart Museum. “I thought, ‘Wait a minute, I don’t understand this museum,’” she recalled— and realized that children coming from the South Side would likely feel the same way. Davis uses this perspective to help the students on her tours understand the art.

“I break it down: lines, triangle, rectangle, circle. From top to bottom, left to right. From here, the children will start seeing the work as a whole.”

She tries to not only identify with these kids and help them understand the art from their own unique perspectives but also “help kids see themselves in the art.” When Davis tells the students to look for certain things in the art, like an

emotion, or the sun, or even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and they say “Ooh!” it reminds her of herself.

When she went to her first meeting at the Smart last September and learned about the role of a docent, she recalled thinking, “It’s the same as music.”

“The museum is the stage where I am featuring all these artists,” she explained, drawing a comparison between being a docent and a performer. Davis continues to question the artwork in the galleries, but she uses this connection between music and visual arts as a way to understand the museum for herself and help her students appreciate the gallery.

“I put [my tours] together like music. Except this is visual arts.” But the museum has its own kind of music: “stories … being told by what they do with a pencil and paper.”

Both the docents from the UofC and those from the Odyssey Project have had training in the humanities, since the

curriculum in the Odyssey Project is similar to the UofC’s Core Curriculum.

What separates the Odyssey Project docents, however, is their experience growing up in Chicago, which allows them to connect with the students who tour the museum. Davis, for example, grew up in Cabrini-Green. In Jason Pallas’s opinion, the Odyssey Project docents help “leverage relationships with our full audience, not just on campus, but breaking across those historical barriers, into the full, surrounding South Side audience.”

The Smart Museum has free admission, but Pallas is aware that price is not the only factor keeping children from feeling comfortable in museums.

He attributed this to “threshold anxiety,” a term he learned from UofC art history professor Darby English.

“Even just coming through the doors, there’s an implicit, invisible, unspoken barrier there,” Pallas explained.

“And I think it’s on us to dismantle that, and make this a place that is truly open and welcoming.”

For many students, visiting the Smart is their first experience in a museum. In order to encourage art appreciation and help students feel comfortable in the gallery, docent training at the Smart is unlike that of other museums.

While the docents read a lot about the art, most training consists of community-building exercises. Docents let the students do most of the thinking and discovering, using an inquiry-based model to guide the tours.

“Docents don’t tell much of anything,” Pallas said. “It’s a space for the participants to find out the answers.” Instead of giving rigid guidelines for how to give a tour, he asks the docents, “How do you find your authentic voice to give your tour?”

When Davis gives a tour, she’s not looking for any answers. She asks the students what they see and what they think. No matter how strange a piece may seem, or how apprehensive a student may be, Davis forges a connection between the students and the art by starting from the basics.

On one of her afternoon tours a couple weeks ago, she brought fourteen students from Sawyer Elementary into the Smart Museum gallery. She led them to an Yves Klein glass table filled with blue sand in the center of the room. She asked the students to examine the piece– –“Start from the top, then the bottom; look at it from all sides. Look at the lines, shapes, colors.” ¬

ARTIST TALK: Ireashia Monét Ireashia Monét is a Chicago-based photographer, multimedia artist, and emerging filmmaker. In their work, Monét combines participatory media making, auto-ethnography, and collaborative co-authorship as methods of excavation and exploration of black queer narratives.

Join us April 13, 6-8pm at Build Coffee for the opening night of “The Pearls My Mother Gave Me,” Monét’s ongoing exploration of intergenerational trauma, the residual effects of abuse in the lives of the women in their family, and their personal fight toward radical healing and self-love.

At 6:30 we’ll screen “Grandma’s Wisdom” (2016) and “The Pearls You Gave Me” (2018). Afterward, Monét will hold a public conversation with their grandmother on the series. For the first time, Gwendolyn Bennett (Monét’s grandmother) will speak on her experience working on “Grandma’s Wisdom.”

6100 S Blackstone Ave Mon-Fri 8-5:30; Sat & Sun 9-5:30 More information at buildcoffee.org MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 11

State of Nature Mother Nature is raising “the collective conscience of damnnear the world through hip-hop”

BY CHRISTOPHER GOOD

KIRAN MISRA

A

s the old cliché goes, artists must “find their voices.” The rap duo Mother Nature, on the other hand, already know what they want to say. The two will waste no time telling you what they stand for: they’re a “badass group of MCs, coming to conquer the world through Black girl genius.”

Klevah and T.R.U.T.H. first met in a spoken word program at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, where they would later land an opening set for Run the Jewels in 2015. Since relocating to Bronzeville in 2016, they’ve performed with Joseph Chilliams, Ty Dolla $ign, OSHUN, and CupcakKe. In the age of RapCaviar, the term "conscious" might seem unfashionable––for decades, it’s been lobbed at any MC with a boom-bap beat and something to say. But for Mother Nature, conscious rap isn’t a style, genre, or clique: it’s a calling.

T.R.U.T.H., who was raised in Austin, describes rapping as “a necessity, 12 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

the need to express myself, to get thoughts out of my head and put them on paper.”

Klevah, the daughter of a Champaign MC, says she “always wanted to be a rapper––I knew since I was a shorty, I was going to be a rapper.” But whether it’s through their music or through the workshops they host, "The MisEducation of Hip-Hop," the two share a conviction that hip-hop can be a force for good.

You relocated from Champaign to Chicago in 2016. What was that like?

T.R.U.T.H.: It was time [to] take that first big step––[to say] “we’re about to go crazy with this, for real for real.” This is home for me, my family is here, stuff like that. We hit up Young Chicago Authors and different open mic scenes, homies we already knew, just linking up with them and asking where should we go––just getting where we fit in.

You also just dropped a track called “This Yo Year.” Tell me more.

T.R.U.T.H.: There’s a newer vibe on the horizon that people haven’t heard from us yet. I think it’s coming from maturity.

People know that we can rap, people know that we’re wordsmiths––that’s what we do. But [I want] to get people into the mindset that we’re not only that.

We’re songwriters, we’re composers [and] encapsulate something in a song. It’s really just showing people our full spectrum of what Mother Nature is.

What’s it like working as a team?

Klevah: It’s dope, because you don’t have to do everything alone. You have more ideas coming in, more energy. We have chemistry, and it’s a beautiful thing.

T.R.U.T.H.: I think it’s unspoken pushes as well, more than either of us having to

MUSIC

How do you look at hip-hop?

Klevah: You know, hip-hop at its core is about community. It’s about healing [and] gaining knowledge of yourself, the world around you, the people around you.

So, what we practice in our house and in our music and amongst each other–– let’s spread that, so we can create better environments for us to grow in. We all got our defenses up at this point, so we’re not even able to grow, to really move past that.

T.R.U.T.H.: That, in a nutshell, is us trying to raise the collective conscience of damn-near the world through hip-hop.

That is the mission of Mother Nature.

What issues matter to you?

Klevah: What matters to us...Black girls, financial freedom, spirituality in the Black community, healing in the Black community––and all communities, but starting with that, because that’s the most disadvantaged in America.

T.R.U.T.H.: It’s who we are. So it’s only right that we fix [things] where we see our reflection.

Klevah: A lot of shit we do care about.

Just consciousness, like whether people are even thinking...I’m just trying to figure that out, how to be a good leader for the [next] generation. Man, incarceration, my mom’s been in and out of prison all my life, and on and off drugs all my life, so I’m definitely sensitive to that, but also trying to think of ways to fight that within hiphop and within Mother Nature.

T.R.U.T.H.: With incarceration, poverty––[there are] a lot of things in place that shouldn’t be and don’t have to be, but only [are] because there’s money behind it, money you can gain from locking someone up. So it’s figuring out ways through hip-hop to infiltrate and deconstruct [...] it’s all about raising

people’s vibrations and consciousness.

Once you start seeing, you’re my brother just like I’m your sister, regardless of color, skin, whatever––you a person, I’m a person, you bleed like I do, you breathe like I do. So let’s figure this out [instead] of throwing you in jail. That’s not solving anything. You’re on drugs because you don’t have the means to take care of yourself, you know what I’m saying. It’s a lot. My younger brother got locked up over some stupid shit, and for what? You wasted two years of his life for no reason ...It’s families out here struggling to pay for a lawyer, for court fees, even getting people to the courthouse depending on where you’re at. It’s just a lot of things that need to be eradicated and built anew.

Klevah: I think that’s why we are Mother Nature. Because Mother Nature is going to destroy some shit, but only to make it more beautiful and more abundant. It’s all in the spirit of love.

What are your thoughts on the state of rap right now?

T.R.U.T.H.: It’s a balance, I feel. Within your artistry, you have to understand where you are and what that means to people watching you. We do have a necessity to let people know, OK, “I’m here, but I’m only here because I need to get this bag, I’m not trying to be inspirational...” I see some of the younger artists that are on bigger platforms saying these things, but they’re still making their party music, because we still need that.

Hip-hop is love and joy and happiness and having fun. But at the same time, if you’re using this power and only throwing out negative––it’s a balance, you gotta balance that with something else. Even if you’re doing it outside of music.

Because people [are] just speaking their lives––“I was out here trapping, selling drugs,” doing this or that––“and I’m just telling you my story and what I went through.” And people get that misconstrued into thinking that they are promoting a negative lifestyle, or whatever. But that’s people’s lives, that’s my life, that’s my brother’s life. It’s people that really went through that and had to do it for whatever reason. But if you’re not letting people know what the other side is and how you’re coming out of it, how you became a better person, why you were there in the first place––that’s the problem. Because we’re so clickbait now, it’s little bits thrown out as a headline–– and [people say], oh, you’re talking about guns, you’re a bad person.

Can you tell me more about “The MisEducation of Hip-Hop”?

T.R.U.T.H.: Well, [we did our first workshop] as a part of the #BlackLivesMatter movement in Cleveland. That was even before we were a group.

Klevah: We just believed in ourselves very early. At that time, it was just [discussing] the elements of hip-hop––we kind of talk about it, break it down, and build something from whatever element they were most connected to. But after that, we got funded to do our own workshop in Champaign, and this time we did it with middle and high school students. And that’s when it really started to take off. We were like, yeah, this is what we’re trying to do. We recently did two workshops in [Flatbush,] Brooklyn, and just hosted at READY, an alternative school in Champaign.

T.R.U.T.H.: Yeah, working with kids, you’re always going to get inspired. Kids are so neglected at times, and that’s why they find freedom and vulnerability in our workshops. It does give you that free space to just express yourself how you see fit [...] Right now, I’m doing mentorship at Beethoven Elementary, and we’re teaching kids math through counting bars.

It’s beyond just music, it’s beyond even just theorizing. You can really put this into schools and teach kids [in] a way they connect to. Because it’s of the now–– this is what’s cool. This is what people hate us for and love about us––is hip-hop in America. Mother Nature will perform at Blackbird in Urbana, Illinois on Friday, April 6, and at StoopFest in Lansing, Michigan on April 21.

Through April 22, 2018

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 13

Antony Gormley, after an idea by Gabriel Mitchell, Infinite Cube, 2014.

Smart Museum of Art, The University of Chicago, Gift of Antony Gormley and W. J. T. Mitchell, 2014.63.

tell the other, “Yo G, you could be doing this better, or you can do that better.” I watch [Klevah], and I’m like, “keep doing that shit”––you know what I’m saying?

It’s that expectation we have for one another, and we always hit that. And if not, then it’s going back to the drawing board––it’s never just something we’re going to let slide under the rug or not deal with it. We bring it to the table and be like, “This is what’s going on, this is why it’s going on, and let’s move forward to try and fix it.”

Looking In From the Outside Diana Quiñones Rivera on encounters and filmmaking in Woodlawn and beyond

BY AUDREY TEO

D

iana Quiñones Rivera is a filmmaker from Puerto Rico who moved to Chicago in November 2015. While she was a 2016 fellow in Kartemquin Films’ Diverse Voices in Docs program, she lived in Woodlawn for a year before moving to Avondale. Her new short film “D on the South Side,” which was screened in January and February as part of Collaboraction Theatre’s winter festival, deals with her time living in Woodlawn.

“It was tough living in Woodlawn,” Rivera said. “I guess I didn’t expect it to be as segregated. I knew it was segregated but I didn’t think it was going to be a place where I would feel uncomfortable, and it [was].”

Invited to make the film by the organizers of long-running weekly performance series Salonathon, Rivera's experience with Woodlawn’s racial dynamics were a good fit with the Collaboration festival, which was titled “Encounter.” Its focus was on “racism and racial healing in Chicago.”

What inspired “D on the South Side”?

This is the first personal project I’ve made.

And I made it because I was invited to be a part of Camp Salondawega from the people of Salonathon. They invited me to submit some work to be considered for the camp. So I was wanting to do something about this experience that I had, but I wasn’t sure because it was a moment where I was very vulnerable. I always talk about racism everyday, with everybody and people get tired of it. But for me, most things in this world are dominated by racism. I’ve experienced some of it in Puerto Rico, but it’s more in your face here. So I submitted this proposal to make a performance where I would read a script of something that I wrote and I would show video and images that I took not only of the South Side, but also of photos of my family. I wanted to show my history and background and how that relates to my being naive. It was like coming

14 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

to Chicago, [I thought] “I’m moving to Woodlawn, I’m going to be with my people.” It was the first time that I was like, “Diana, you’ve never thought about white privilege and you’ve never thought about it as a part of your life experience,” and I never had to. In New York, New Orleans, we’re all together.

Everyone saw me as white—there are nuances, the way that you talk, the way that you carried yourself. [At first] I was walking down there, like, hey, this is my neighborhood. I would see a few white people in the neighborhood, and they were walking very apprehensively, eyes looking down. I feel like people thought, “Why the fuck is she walking like that...”

People called me “white bitch.”

There was a lot of hostility towards me because in that neighborhood I was white. I wanted to live there but I didn’t want to go through that everyday. Just going on public transportation and being the only light-skinned person there was difficult. People had a point of making it uncomfortable. It was uncomfortable for them, it was uncomfortable for me.

There was this really heavy energy. And they would say things like “all these Jews coming here, taking over our banks”— I’m not Jewish!

I wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t my place to say anything. I would sit in the back of the bus, the last seat, and if someone wanted to look at me, they could turn their head. I wanted to disappear, really, I didn’t want people to look at me because I was like this big spot. So, I really stuck out.

A lot of “D on the South Side” is about your experience living in Woodlawn, but you also talk about people’s experiences who have lived there.

I wanted to give a context to what I was talking about. Segregation doesn’t come from today. It’s organized. It’s

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STAGE & SCREEN

institutionalized. There’s people that have worse stories than me. When a Black person goes to the North Side, they have really bad experiences of police harassing them. They come out of their neighborhood where they’re harassed by white police, they go to another neighborhood and are not only harassed by white police but by white people. It’s important to include the other side of it.

How did you go about making the film?

Stills from "D on the South Side."

Collaboraction’s Encounter series wanted pieces that were twenty minutes long and no more than that. I actually have more material. I want to talk about what it was like living in New Orleans, England, a little bit more about Puerto Rico. When I talk about colorism in Puerto Rico, it’s very basic and minimal. I have so little time to say all the things I want to say in this piece. It was very important to me to have the people that I interviewed talk from their own perspective. I would like [there] to be a forty-minute piece where I get to show more about Chicago and talk about moving to Avondale. This is a little look into my experience, it’s not meant to be comprehensive or for everybody. This is about a light-skinned Puerto Rican woman living in the South Side of Chicago and the experiences that I had.

How has the audience been receiving it?

Above: A mural in Woodlawn by Bryant Jones, whom Rivera interviews in "D on the South Side."

White people, Black people, Latinx….

Everybody. There was this lady that works in the neighborhood. She thanked me for making it, she told me, “This happens to me too.” This harassment from men happened to her. Someone threw something at her from a car in that neighborhood. She was like, I’m so sorry. She felt like as a community, she should be sorry. I told her thank you for expressing her feelings but I didn’t feel

unsafe. I felt more like everybody was looking at me. But for people who live there, it can be unsafe.

How do you approach new projects?

I do my research first, I read a lot about what I’m doing. But other projects have been me jumping in. Either I know the people, or I have a connection to the person. All the films I made in the beginning were people that were my coworkers who were dancers. Then we became really close because we lived in the same building. It was easy collaborating. Now in Chicago, I’m doing a doc series for OpenTV that will be premiering in June. It’s about a dancer and choreographer, following her rehearsals and performances.

What projects are you pursuing in the future?

In the past, I have made a lot of films about dance because it’s one of my passions. I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing works incorporating dance. Right now, I’m making a film. I started the research in 2013, I started filming a documentary about the socioeconomic and political issues in Puerto Rico, but seen through the lives of people who practice Bomba music and dance. It incorporates dance and the power of it to change people’s minds and open up. It came from enslaved people and how they expressed in this form because they were being oppressed. I would love to continue doing films like that.

I am actually getting into writing a TV series this year. I just can’t wait to work with a full crew, to do something that is based on my life. It would be a story on my life in New Orleans. I’m looking forward to doing more fiction because I have been doing documentaries for years now. It’s been great, but I would love to jump into something more elaborate. ¬

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 15

Painting Politics

DIANA DELGADO PINEDA

Alexander Tadlock uses art to encourage Mexican immigrants living in Chicago to vote in Mexico’s general election

BY DIANA DELGADO PINEDA

A

lexander Tadlock, an artist born in California and raised in Tijuana, Mexico, was commissioned by the Mexican National Electoral Institute (INE) to paint a mural in Little Village.

Located on 26th Street and Troy Street near the iconic Little Village Arch, Tadlock’s mural serves to persuade Mexican immigrants living in Chicago that if they register as voters in Mexico, their votes will be crucial in Mexico’s general elections that begin this July.

Can you explain what we're looking at in the mural? What was your artistic process for creating it?

16 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

You see some hands raised, symbolizing the community. It’s well-organized in demanding essential things. As a matter of fact, I believe only education and arts can really change any society. [In the mural] you can see a book open, symbolizing free education for all. Some brushes raised, representing the arts and sciences. But also, respect and toleration from the hands with the finger raised.

There’s “power to the people”, because I believe that this happens in Mexico, in the U.S.; whenever elections come, political parties try to deceive us, or try to give us a different impression. So, the only way to actually make things happen and to evolve as a society is if

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

we come unite. That's basically what you get to see in the mural. Also, the colors allow for these essentially Mexican characteristics—the patterns of the flowers come from indigenous south regions of Mexico, specifically from the artisans and indigenous women who embroidered these beautiful patterns.

They are a part of our millennial culture and heritage.

I see you've been talking to some people whenever they stop by. What have you heard from the community so far?

I’ve been really amazed because even though we're in Chicago, you can see

that there is a real solid community of Mexican spirit. It happens everyday. The Little Village neighborhood is so similar to living in Mexico. Preserving all of these beautiful values from Mexican society and traditions along with the fact that they keep spreading to new generations, those born in the United States, has been beautiful. It's been wonderful that there are a lot elders [in the mural], and that they immediately get recognized either as the colors or the symbols around the mural. At the same time, they have this feeling of...missing?

Nostalgia.

MURALS

Nostalgia, exactly. It’s been beautiful that I’ve been having the time to share some of the best thoughts, histories, or stories about how this community was raised in the seventies, how the first Mexicans came here, and how they struggled to have a place in wild Chicago. It’s been an honor to be here and to be embraced by Mexican-Americans. They really believe that things should change in Mexico.

I’ve been very surprised that they do care about what’s happening in Mexico and hopefully they hear the call to actually get together and do something for those who cannot.

more than in the other neighborhoods that I’ve been around. People [are] more friendly—if you’re walking and someone sees that something falls behind you, they tell you. They kindly greet you in the morning. For the time I’ve been painting, people just come around, buy me a coffee, or give me a good chat. I’ve seen it not only with me but also all around. It happens spontaneously, and that’s what I’ve seen in this community, rather than in other sides of the city.

It sounds like you’re very well informed about Little Village. Do you have any thoughts about the culture of the South Side or Little Village in particular compared to other parts of Chicago that you perhaps have seen during your stay here?

One word would be “legacy.” I would like to give this [mural as a] present, especially for kids, for the new generation. I believe that if there will be more schools rather than police outside in the street, if there are more paintings than machine guns, then I believe there will be more artists than killers. [For] young people, students, I would like to leave this as a legacy, especially for kids to say, “Hey, instead of violence or xenophobia or ignorance, why don’t we all come together and explore new topics in arts or science?” Maybe I can spread out the seeds; hopefully I’ll be able to see new artists when I get back. ¬

Yeah, I’ve been here for three weeks.

I’ve been [working] every day on the mural—straight from waking up [to] going to paint—but I’ve had the chance to see a little of the city around, and I’ve noticed how this region in particular is a little bit different at least from the areas downtown, North, or East. What I’ve seen here is people get to socialize

What are your hopes for this mural, now that it’s finished and on display?

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 17

LIT

Words, Pictures, and Gestures from Louder Than a Bomb PHOTO ESSAY BY KIRAN MISRA

T

wo weekends ago, high school poets from across Chicago took to the stage for the finals of the Louder than a Bomb (LTAB) poetry slam, a competition that seeks to engage the city in the “pedagogy of listening,” as Young Chicago Authors marketing manager José Olivarez says. Olivarez has been involved in LTAB since 2005: while he began as a student participant in the festival, he’s now working to make the slam an annual reality.

Many Chicagoans only see the LTAB poets when they perform in the mid-March finals. The relationships between the poets themselves, however, begin forming from their very first day of school, when they start building teams. They get opportunities to meet other poets from around their region of the city during local competitions in the early winter, and from around the entire city during the LTAB finals in the spring. These cross-city friendships have a poignant origin—the first LTAB festival took place in 2001, after antigang/loitering laws were created to prevent Chicago youth from assembling in groups.

This year, over 1,000 poets came together from seventy-nine different zip codes, no small feat in one of the country’s most segregated cities.

“The impacts of the festival are felt beyond just those four to five weeks of finals, quarterfinals, and semifinals," Olivarez said. "They continue to reverberate in and around the lives of these young people for years to come.”

LTAB has expanded its impact in recent years through its creation of special programs: Louder than a Bomba, Halal if You Hear Me, Purim Party, and Queeriosity, have featured work by Latinx, Muslim, Jewish, and LGBTQ poets respectively.

“These are spaces in which young poets get to exist without having to translate their realities or parts of their 18 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

identities for their audience,” Olivarez said. “It was really powerful to hear poets speaking about the joyful and sweet parts of being Mexican at a time when ICE raids are common in the city [sometimes with the cooperation of the Chicago Police Department], despite Chicago being a sanctuary city.”

Jalen Kobayashi from Whitney Young Magnet High School won the LTAB 2018 individual finals with “Or So It Was Told,” an ode to the women in his life. The Gwendolyn Brooks College Preparatory Academy won the team championships. Other performances featured topics ranging from Will Smith, to a poem entitled ‘how to be Mexican,’ to pieces on Chicago’s youth activism.

The Brooks team performed a piece about the No Cop Academy campaign, alluding to the city’s proposed funding of a $95 million police facility—funding that could have gone to Chicago’s public schools, for example. The poem was met with loud appreciation from the audience.

After the performance, the poets called on their friends, classmates, and audience members to attend an upcoming No Cop Academy youth summit.

Poems like these highlighted one of the most integral parts of LTAB’s work: poets’ ability to blend metaphor and movement to affect cultural and political change.

“Stories that come out of this festival have real impacts and real stakes that extend beyond the four walls of the auditorium,” Olivarez said. “In many ways, Louder Than A Bomb is actually a local community organizing model that shows the importance of organizing where you’re at.”

For youth who missed the winter LTAB programming, Young Chicago Authors will host one final LTAB event this year. Louder Than a Prom, an alternative citywide dance, will occur on April 28 at the House Of Vans. ¬

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

SHOLA JIMOH, NEQUA VALLEY HIGH SCHOOL “Contortions of the African Woman”

My mother prays daily. I hear her whisper as she frantically converts punches and police sirens into neat packages for God. I hope he receives them.

THE DOPPELGÄNGER (an international farce)

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AISHA JUNE, GOODMAN THEATRE YOUTH POETRY ENSEMBLE “Living as a Juxtaposition”

There are seven great mysteries in the world. When the pyramids appeared, lesbian sex became the eighth hardest concept for men to understand.

Matthew-Lee Erlbach

A world premiere by (Showtime’s Masters of Sex)

Tina Landau

Directed by ensemble member (Broadway’s The SpongeBob Musical, Tracy Letts’s Superior Donuts) AALIYAH MUHAMMED, PERCY L. JULIAN HIGH SCHOOL “Twelve”

Don’t expect this to rhyme, I just want this to be a long hate letter to you.

A side-splitting farce about first-world greed and backroom deals

Rainn Wilson

featuring actor and comedian (The Office, Juno) as the Doppelgänger

with ensemble members Celeste M. Cooper, Audrey Francis, Ora Jones, Sandra Marquez and James Vincent Meredith

April 5 – May 27 | steppenwolf.org | 312-335-1650 Major Production Sponsors

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 19

LIT

MORGAN VARNADO, OAK PARK AND RIVER FOREST HIGH SCHOOL “Fresh aka Blessings at Will Smith’s Funeral”

There’s a list in my back pocket of people I would die for and it’s all Black children on scooters and it keeps getting bigger and bigger whenever my little cousin smiles at me.

ARIELLE APPLEBERRY, GWENDOLYN BROOKS HIGH SCHOOL “How a $20 Bill Taught Me That Black Capitalism is an Oxymoron”

My grandma spends her government checks on the lottery, which I don’t understand, because isn’t being a Black woman in America already enough of a gamble? Give her check right back to the state and call that a Black tax return.

TAISAUN LEVI, CRANE MEDICAL PREPARATORY HIGH SCHOOL “Chicago Ganguage”

I speak that blue socks, red socks, green socks, purple socks. It seems like my Ventra and CPS are twins because both they ass underfunded.

20 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

VISUAL ARTS

Portrait of an Abstract Contemporary Artist

Nikko Washington on gentrification, aesthetic form, and the exploration of the Black experience.

BY LATOYA CROSS

KAHARI BLACK

Y

ou won’t catch Nikko Washington storytelling through the mic like his Savemoney crew members.

“Hell nah,” he exclaims when the question is brought up. “I’ve been in hella studios and everybody has freestyled before, but I never had the urge to sit with the headphones and write on a piece of paper. And I don’t think I will.”

But when thinking back on the many times he’s been asked about his rap skills, he laughs and offers: “I'll paint though.”

With wild, colorful strokes of the paintbrush, Washington, a contemporary artist, creative director, and graphic designer, creates poignant narratives that illustrate the Black experience from his perspective.

“If I do a piece about it, that means I’ve directly witnessed it or I’m referencing something in the past that's happening now,” he explains. “For me, the story is already in my mind. I rarely sketch things. It all stems from colors of mood and colors of the actual subject matter. So, if I’m doing a piece that is going to highlight”––he points to a painting behind me––“inside the organs, I’m going to do a softer tone to blend the color; to really amplify what's going on at the center or focal point. If I'm doing something that's going to evoke even more emotion, I might use a color like a red, or do something that's very toned.

It gives you a different feel when you approach it or even when it catches your

eye in the corner. It's going to draw you in, in [some] way, some sort of emotional thing.”

T

he artist's studio greets you with a wave of energy. Colorful paintings adorn the white walls.

Washington extends his hand for a formal hello. His voice is low and his smile is welcoming. Once fully inside his atelier, he offers a sneak peek of a few creations currently in the works. “I'm trying to figure out what to include in my upcoming show,” he says. "I think I'm close, but I need a few more."

That day, Washington is dressed all in black with a skull hat that both covers and exposes his almost-shoulder length

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 21

VISUAL ARTS dreadlocks. During our time together, he makes small talk and shares a snippet of the day’s activities––a trip to the eye doctor and a visit to the Art Institute of Chicago.

The obvious would be to kick off a discussion on Washington's longtime (and now celebrity-status) friends: Vic Mensa, Chance the Rapper, Towkio, and the rest of the Savemoney collective.

But instead, we dive into his Hyde Park stomping grounds and its influence on how he approaches art and creativity.

“Hyde Park is so important to me. All of my homies that I've known for fifteen to sixteen years, and two I've known for twenty years, grew up in Hyde Park. We'd always walk to each other's house. We'd just show up at somebody's door,” the twenty-four-year-old begins to reminisce with delight in his eyes.

“To me, it was like a Black utopia.

I accredit [Hyde Park and Wicker Park] to most things about me. By my crib I'd see blocks where there's a permission wall with graffiti, and it would be all these crews painting all day. There were different styles and people would give pointers. I would sit there and watch. It was so enlightening to see people [being] friendly, painting graffiti … peacefully expressing themselves."

The permission wall was a cultural staple in Hyde Park for over twenty years.

Free of police regulation and boasting fifty feet of concrete, it was a distinctive part of Chicago's graffiti scene before it was destroyed in 2014 for the construction of apartments “loaded with exciting amenities”—such as a Target.

Since the reign of former president Barack Obama, who resided just a few blocks away from downtown Hyde Park, the neighborhood has experienced a rejuvenation, with a “Downtown Chicago” sensibility and similar architectural layout.

It’s a facelift that leaves Washington with mixed feelings.

“I was at the ‘new Harper Court’ and saw a sign that said Downtown Hyde Park, and it really [pained] me. I was offended. Like, are you kidding me? How is 53rd Street downtown,” he asked.

He continued: “The University [of Chicago], as they were already doing [before Obama's election], is buying more and more of these places. Every couple of months, I see something. Apartment buildings that are too much money, Target, Whole Foods, not forgetting we already had a Treasure Island. A fuckin' hotel, Native Foods!,” he laughs. “You only see Native Foods in [Lincoln Park] 22 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

or Wicker Park. ” Then, the flip-side of it all.

“But, you look at it all and it's nothing but Black people working in there and it's cool. Eventually, it's going to be too expensive. On one hand, I hate gentrification, but on the other hand, I do understand change and can accept it. Chicago, even the history and different neighborhoods that have moved around––you just know that nothing is going to stay the same forever.”

Washington's emotion finds its way into his artistry. One example is “Fix it Up Don’t Tear it Down,” a thirty-six-inch by forty-eight-inch painting dedicated to the Cabrini-Green Homes, a public housing high-rises whose demolition displaced residents and sparked a conversation about gentrification. Today, all that’s left of Cabrini-Green is a strip of rowhouses; much of the area has been replaced by condos.

In the eighth grade, Washington attended Skinner West Elementary.

When the school went through renovations, students were relocated to Sojourner Truth Elementary, located near Cabrini. The uproot took place just as the final tower was being torn down.

Washington recalls seeing the aftermath and remnants of what once was. “There were people still there. Displaced. There were all these new businesses, a Barnes & Noble, but it wasn't like it is now and how you see it today. I remember seeing an old sign reading through the history of it and it said, ‘Fix it Up. Don't Tear it Down.’

And it's like, I see, they're fixing Hyde Park up and not tearing it down, but we're still not going to maintain and have it like it was, you know?”

Still, the streets of Hyde Park cultivated not only Washington's deepening appreciation of visual art, but his lasting friendships with Chicago creative within and without Savemoney.

When Vic Mensa, Kami, Towkio, and Noname were getting serious about their emceeing and musical talents, they turned to Nikko for his visual skill.

“They started taking music seriously at the same time I started taking art seriously, whatever that means,” he laughs. “It started with Kami and Towkio.

They made a song called ‘scrape money.’

I didn't know what I was doing, I just made something in a square and people thought it was cool and really liked it. I worked with Chance, not on an album or mix covers, but, other projects...we all just work together. People always ask where I get clients from. Luckily for me, my

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

friends were pursuing other things that they needed artwork for. So it's tight.”

The design work kicked off Washington's popularity and has since complemented his status as a sought-after freelance artist.

The Art of Things There's a quote that has been stuck in Nikko's head for the past few days: “You are what you do everyday.”

“My friend Eric Montanez told me this. Best quote I've heard. I don't know if he made that up––probably didn’t,” he laughs. “But since he told me, shout out to Eric!”

Washington’s response speaks to his refusal to be stagnant or complacent.

“That stuck to me so much, because if you're a freelancer, drop out of school, [not working], and you want to pursue this and you're not in the studio or something to better your career everyday, then, that's not really who you are. That's existing.”

Simply existing is not a fit for his ambitions. Since the age of eight, Washington had a natural talent and interest in drawing. His mother and uncle, who are also artists, recognized and nurtured this gift––and his mother got him involved in Gallery 37, a venue that provides space for youth, families, and adults to participate in innovative art programs.

“It was [one of ] the most amazing art programs in Chicago. I remember meeting a bunch of like-minded people and artists in Chicago from all over...It was my first time seeing that my work can be appreciated and sold. It was crazy. We got money to be in the gallery––they paid us to do art. That was ill to me.”

Jean-Michel Basquiat, known for his abstract painting and coded messages, broadened Washington's sense of how far art can travel. “He was like the art version of Tupac. He [was] with Andy Warhol making pieces and doing a whole bunch of cool ass shit.”

Washington uses a variety of tools: spray, oil and acrylic paints, graffiti markers, graphite pencils. Sometimes he'll introduce a piece of vinyl or paper, creating collages that spark conversations around police brutality, human structures, and Black life seen and studied. The vibrant yellows, reds, and blues are attractive, but can take you to places dark, current, exploratory and futuristic.

“I'm precise in my paintings too, but I like to be free in my paintings. That's just kind of the dichotomy of my work and

how I get to be different.”

It's this freedom that ignites Washington's vision and process. “I really like to make my own rules up. I know I probably do a lot of things wrong, but that’s okay. It works for me. There are so many ways to paint, so many techniques that you can start with that’ll change the direction of your piece. Good or bad––all of that is subjective.”

The work is intentionally indirect.

“It’s for everybody, just because I’m talking about this from this perspective doesn’t mean you can’t relate to it in a different way. I really like when people come up to me with different things that I didn't even think about. ” He recalls an instance that introduced him to a new way of seeing a particular piece.

“I did this red woman and I was kind of free and loose with it, and there was a little bit of a drip on some of the red. Someone walked up to me and was like, ‘Are you talking about menstruation?’

I said, ‘No, but now that you mentioned it to me, that’s all I can see, and it makes so much sense if I was.’ But I wasn’t. I was talking about the fierceness of this particular woman in the piece. She was like a deity. It was wild. But that would be a whole other layer if I was talking about that.”

Lately, Washington's brush has been drawn to body and structure. He directs my attention to an unfinished painting that exposes the detailed insides of a skeleton-faced figure. As with most of his human creations, facial features remain obscure, inviting viewers to search beyond the known and into something more.

Something possibly deeper.

“The face already has so many emotions in it. Just take the Mona Lisa and how that piece is famous for her expression. Not the background. Not the foreground. Not the color. Just her face.

So that already has so much weight into it.

So, what I’m doing now, is doing without defining the face [...] absent of that, what else can you see? What can you find without me [giving] you tell-tale signs?," he challenges.

A lesson from a former professor at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago that Washington has kept with him is the process of creating the background and foreground simultaneously. This method contributes to his free and layered strokes, where one component may gain his attention for a moment but the entirety of the composition is forming at the same time.

“I'm carving, adding and taking away. It's forever changing,” he says. “The strokes and the weights, different sizes and frequencies of the lines, all [stem] from where I want you to move in the piece and where I want the eye to go, which is everywhere or not in more than one spot. That’s how I build depth or guide people's eyes through the piece. It’s really me. It’s really my mind and how I compose and see it being complete. That doesn't mean that every mark has to be on there for it to be done. It has to have a variation of strokes and weights.”

The Bad Sleep Well In The Cross of Redemption: Uncollected Writings, the novelist and social critic James Baldwin wrote on mass culture and the artist: “Art and ideas come out of the passion and torment of experience: it is impossible to have a real relationship to the first, if one’s aim is to be protected from the second.”

Though abstract, Washington's works don't shy away from the currents of reality. For him, the times can’t be ignored.

“I'm not a person who’s very vocal about many issues, or what I may be going through,” he notes. “I’d rather put in the work.”

His most recent exhibit, 2017’s "The Bad Sleep Well," was a conceptual regurgitation, a year and a half of internal emotion and social unrest released on canvas.

It was rooted in the fatal 2014 police shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, MO, and the birth of the Black Lives Matter movement. Washington was in class during the trial of officer Darren Wilson, and remembers he and a few other non-white classmates were the only students making work about social issues.

“When I go home from my utopia of class, I see black bodies in the street. I see notifications from CNN about the case on my phone while in school. So for me to not make work about anything involving something that I know, [being] a young man, myself, that could have easily been somebody that I know, or me… it would just seem to be unfair.”

While students focused inward, Washington was determined to create work that was “broader than just me, but addressing what was happening at the time. [The Bad Sleep Well] is also imagining wherever Darren Wilson is, George Zimmerman, wherever those people are having a great sleep and me being supremely bothered by this, you

know? To be honest, it’s not even about sleep. It's about consciousness and morality.”

These themes are part of what draws him to artists like Kerry James Marshall, Kehinde Wiley, Kadir Nelson, and Glenn Ligon.

“I admire them all because they're looking at the Black experience through different lenses and techniques," he says.

"Wiley does these monumental pieces [involving] everyday black people in [old European scenes], highlighting them in these dramatic lights, making them kings.

It's very beautiful. Kerry James Marshall, and the way these artists use their colors.

Their compositions, subject matter, and the figures in the work. That’s really what inspires me and pushes how I can depict my reality in a different light.”

But Washington isn't one to force-feed messages and massage our perspective to meet his. It’s not his style.

Instead, his work presents a mixture of what travels through his mind, leaving the observer to reach their own conclusion.

He makes it clear that his goal is not to be boxed in as a political artist, but to make work that is expressive, meaningful, and capable of evoking feelings in others.

“I’m not trying to give anybody a history lesson or directly educate anybody,” he confirms. “I try to get people to look at the piece subjectively, and you come up with your own feelings from the piece. You look at a piece and see blood splattered all over it, okay, you see that.

But if you look at it and start to see what I'm really talking about, you, regardless of color, can see the phrases that I’m putting in there and see [or ask] ‘okay, why is this there? Why do you have an image of a police target that they actually sell online crumbled up? Why are you doing these things?'”

“I’m an artist. That's all I want to be known for," he continues. "If I want to do furniture, tapestry, movies, screen painting, fashion, visual communications, I can do it under the moniker of an artist.

That makes me able to do whatever I want. As long as my work has a lasting impact on people, is well-respected for what it is, whether I'm here or dead.”

Looking to the future he adds: “I'm nowhere near where I want to go. Not even just career-wise, but with the pieces themselves and where I truly see them.

I’m excited to keep painting to see where I can go.” Roderick Sawyer contributed reporting.

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 23

A Little Unity

A Washington Heights artist uses her studio to imagine the community area’s future and past

BY ERISA APANTAKU

I

n the past few years, H.L. Anderson has exhibited work at several galleries throughout the South Side and beyond, from the Bridgeport Art Center to Rootwork in Pilsen to the Chicago Cultural Center. But, her latest endeavor is closer to home—her own H.L. Anderson Arts & Culture Studio in her home base, Washington Heights. She opened the studio in September 2017 with the exhibition “An Angel Called Junebug,” and with the studio, she’s also started conversations about what an arts community in Washington Heights can look like. One of those conversations has resulted in vision boards that she’s set up around the studio.

First, recap how these vision boards came about.

My goal was to invite community residents of Washington Heights who live, work, or play here to converse with me about their thoughts, their vision, their dreams for our community. Since Washington Heights covers so many different areas, I wanted to just say, “What about just around here, within this eight-block radius, what do you want to see?” And so that just went into a lot of different discussions. This two-day workshop that was done last November in H.L. Anderson Arts & Culture Studio invited people to really think and dream and have a vision for where we are. A lot of it included: we want businesses, we want entrepreneur programs, job training programs, we want arts and culture, we want more political engagement— not that we wanted politics, but they wanted political engagement. We want the alderman to be more active, the state rep—all of these different entities to be more engaged outside of their normal way of doing business. So that’s what some of this represents, and we had about sixteen people total doing this and it was called “A Vision for Washington Heights.”

We teamed up into groups: so, who wants to do arts and culture? These three

24 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

over here. These three who were interested in safety, right here. Entrepreneurs...And this over here represented kind of the more artistic and creative sides. So, just like any other community areas, they want more health and wellness, arts and culture, business, all of those kinds of things. We just teamed up and used the supplies here to create it. I fed everybody well and gave folks a travel stipend even though they live in the neighborhood, but I think that’s important too. This was going to be something I present to our alderman to see what he thinks, how we can utilize aspects of it, or how we can present it to the town hall meetings.

Last year Chicago Community Trust was seeking proposals for their individual on-the-table grants. I was one of the recipients for my community area. I think that because it’s so far southwest, there’s not a whole lot here; it tends to be a very retired kind of sleepy neighborhood. It doesn’t have the same level of community violence as maybe some of the other areas.

Anytime I ask folks “Stop by my studio!” or “I live in Washington Heights,” the first thing they say is: “Where’s Washington Heights?” [laughs] Actually, when we were in conversation during this workshop, a lot of the people who actually live here said, “Oh, is that what this community area is called? I thought it was called Brainerd, I thought it was called this...” Yo, those are neighborhoods, the actual community area is called Washington Heights. We realized we don’t know a whole lot about this community—we still need to learn. And from this project I am going to move into another project I’m working on called “Where Is Washington Heights?” Where is it in terms of actual placement, location, economics, sustainability, culture—where are we? And who are we?

It aligned with the grand opening, because I actually had this space last July. But I needed time to come in and paint. So, I said, "Well, I’ll have my grand opening be September 23, and just to let people know, here I am," people that I love, people in the neighborhood, this is H.L. Anderson.

This is my little studio.

And then, as I started thinking about that, it just came to me that: no, you’re going to have an exhibit in here, too. So then that’s how that came. And what type of exhibit—as I was painting, and trying to get things ready in here, I started having all of these flashbacks and memories of guys that used to help me and my mother and my grandmother back in the day.

You may not have had all the funds to get a big contractor with men or women to come out. But for twenty-five dollars, they’ll help you paint, they’ll do this or they’ll do that. So I just started really thinking about those types of guys, and how relevant and how significant they are in all communities.

My Spanish friend told me, “Oh yeah, I know someone like that, but we called them June.” That’s what she said.

So everybody kind of knows, he may have a different name, but just how vital and in many ways very underappreciated this type of person is. I just wanted to use this whole space to do that, and using found objects to tell that story.

So, right here I had paint cans hanging from the ceiling, and I was like: “Man, I wish this ceiling was really tall so I could really do the things.” So, it wasn’t as elaborate as I wanted. Just different things: work-shoes, a washing board— all of these different things spoke to this person’s story that I created in here, but that’s also real.

What were your intentions with your first exhibition, “An Angel Called Junebug,” and what sort of art was in the space?

I want to also ask about the things that decorate the space that aren’t a part of that exhibit, but are the base things that are holding down the space. When we

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

walked in, you had incense burning.

I was wondering if you could explain those things: how have you set up your space here?

First and foremost, this is my artist space.

And I am a crystal-wearing, burning incense, candle-lighting type of woman.

I’ve always been like that. That energy of preparation, of setting the tone, of ritual is just very important with me before I do anything, whether it’s engaging with myself, or with other people. I do that.

I put the Florida water down, I try to sweep, I set intentions for the day, and burn the incense.

Similar to Rootwork, Tracie D. Hall is always setting intentions for the space.

Tracie D. Hall is definitely someone that I admire, and she’s been an inspiration. I met her around 2016, she and this other woman named Tracy Kostenbader—she has this place called AnySquared. She does this thing where every Wednesday, people can come in, and it’s kind of an open studio. You can make stuff, you can talk. She’s very grassroots, activism.

She does murals, she holds community meetings, and everything is whatever you want to do on Wednesdays. And then Theaster Gates.

So really, thinking of Theaster Gates, the two Tracys—they, back in the day, really gave me the inspiration to say that I can do some stuff the way that I want to do it, how I want to do it, and you can use any space to activate that. It doesn’t have to be the traditional gallery, white-wall thing—or it could—but that we could utilize the things, the materials, the landscapes, the buildings that we have here. Because before we came here, I was at Fulton Street Collective, which was cool. Well, before I went there, I was in my basement. I outgrew that, which my partner is glad for. And then I was up north, which was close to my job.

But then I outgrew that, and then I was

VISUAL ARTS to do, you can kind of do it in here. If you want to create, that’s fine too. And I’m not gonna tell anyone to pull up their pants, or any of that nonsense either.

I am looking for artists to expand Unity Day. I haven’t advertised, so it’s whoever finds out, walks by, wants to come in—sometimes it’s one person, sometimes five, sometimes ten, sometimes it’s just me and the ancestors in here—because it’s been more of a spiritual thing. But next month I’m gonna do more promoting and marketing. I’m looking to expand. I want live musicians to come; right now I just play music, but I would love to have, you know, a violinist come. Especially in the spring and summer. When we did “Junebug,” not only did we have the exhibit here, we had an old-school blues guitarist sitting right outside on some crates, playing some great blues, and people loved it. It was an outside-inside kind of thing. That’s how I see this. Because this place is small, and it’s really hot in here in the summertime. I’d want to have a cellist out there, a harpist, a violinist, a guitarist, somebody who plays hard rock—you know, different types of stuff—I’m looking for that.

DIANA DELGADO PINEDA

thinking of Hyde Park. We have a lot of good South Side spaces to have a studio.

But then I thought, “No, I’m going to just get a storefront in my neighborhood, and that’s going to be my studio, and I’m going to do what I want in there.” And that’s essentially what I’m doing.

But I’m also really deeply trying to understand how I can utilize my studio practice to work, help, heal communities, too. That’s a big thing, too. And that brings us to this table over here: every Sunday is what I call—I used to call it Community Day, now I just call it Unity Day. And anybody can come in from three to fivethirty, and just get a snack. I have snacks in there, and the snacks always change every week. Some of them are healthier than others. I have donuts, I have cookies, chips, I also have a lot of fruit in there too, and if somebody wants to just come in, I’ll have people just come in after church, grab a bag, say hello to me, and keep going. I have other people that’ll stand right there and just talk and that’s cool.

And I’m always having music playing, so people sit down. I have this guy who was part of this workshop, the Vision for Washington Heights workshop, he comes in pretty religiously, and he plays the guitar that I have here, or he brings his Casio

[keyboard], and he just jams all day. So I’m like, dude, this is your studio, I mean, forget me. And we laugh about that, but I want this place to at least be my thing that I do, and then be able to open it up and provide a space for others that’s free.

And the other contents on the table?

This table is set for Sunday, for people that want to use supplies to create something, make some art. Sponges, acrylic paint, I’ve got glue, I’ve got homemade paper.

I’ve got everything. And this right here is something that I’m working on now, and it’s not nearly finished, but this next exhibit is called “Spare the Rod: Do Black Lives Really Matter?” And that is going to be using found objects, kind of like what I did with “Junebug.” It’ll use belts and stitches and switches and all of this shit that people use to spank children, whoop children, beat children. I want all different types of people in here, whether you’re pro or against, whatever, doesn’t matter.

And I’m going to have a little small panel discussion right there too, really talking about, you know, do we have any other resources that we could use? And how detrimental this can be. Let’s just talk about it! I’m not shaming nobody, because

Lord knows, we gon’ have some spanking mamas and daddys in here talking about, “But you got to—!” I’m prepared for that and I understand that.

This is another little painting that a one-year-old did on Halloween. I kind of like it, little abstract, little blues and stuff with some of the acrylic paint. Then she sat on her mother’s lap and painted, and kept painting, and she loved painting.

This tub was part of the exhibit too, the “Junebug” exhibit, and so was this. Again, using found objects with mixed media: the hammer, acrylic paint, and just part of the “Junebug” exhibit. This was some kind of masonite, and then, some photo transfer. But I wanted it to be kind of ghostly or whatever, to kind of evoke the spirit of men from the past.

You took us through the past, present, and future of the space, so what about the logistics? If people want to come by and do stuff, when can they come?

Every Sunday afternoon from like 3pm– 5:30pm, sometimes 6pm, anybody from anywhere can just come in here and do whatever they want, within reason. Listen to music, sit, chill, talk. We can talk about whatever you want to. Whatever you want

What do you think about more traditional spaces—like the Beverly Arts Center, which is relatively nearby— for creating art or learning the skills to make art?

It’s all necessary. Traditional and nontraditional. You have people who would never go there, and you have people who would; we all need to have a place for that. I love the Beverly Art Walk, where all these businesses and art come together, it’s all things art that weekend; and likewise in Hyde Park, The Silver Room has this big festival—it’s just lit! It’s all these people, these artists, it’s live music—I want to do something like that here. It doesn’t have to look the exact same, but we can have that. It’s not as service-rich as some of those areas, like Beverly or Hyde Park, but we can still do it in our own way. How will that look? We need to talk about that. H.L. Anderson Arts & Culture Studio, 9451 S. Bishop St. Unity Sundays 3pm–5:30pm or so. “Spare the Rod: Do Black Lives Really Matter?” opening Saturday, May 12, 6pm–8pm. Hours by appointment. (312) 485-2009. Suggestions, artistic or otherwise, welcome at hlandersonart@gmail.com. hlandersonart.com

MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 25

YOUTH

Safe Haven

Yollocalli as the future of youth-centered art

BY KRISTEN SIMMONS

A

March afternoon in Chicago where sunlight pools in from all directions and warms the city’s cold concrete is rare, and the vibe in Little Village matched the day’s warm atmosphere. The building where Yollocalli Arts Reach hosts an artistic safe haven for primarily Latinx high school students is just as vibrant: a vintage building covered in graffiti art with colors like mustard yellow and bubblegum pink. This space, which partners with the Little Village Boys and Girls Club of Chicago, has the kind of energy that only youth can have.

“We like to keep this feeling of being an open and carefree space,” said Vanessa Sanchez, director of Yollocalli.

Sanchez is responsible for finding spaces like these for Yollocalli to host its art programs. Through classes on everything from print screening to radio production to incense making, Yollocalli cultivates the spirit of self-expression within its students. The uniqueness of Yollocalli’s programming starts there, in its wide array of offerings.

“Students can learn how to make a bath bomb, silkscreen some fabric to cover it with, then sell it at a shop,” Sanchez said, explaining how students can become involved in projects at every step of the process. “Our journalism classes start off with storytelling, then we encourage [the students] to start questioning the world around them. It’s up to them to come up with a theme and do interviews...then there’s a radio hour.

Learning how to work the equipment and the board.”

An all-encompassing arts program, students are well-prepared to take on the professional or artistic world of their choice after being a part of Yollocalli’s family. A primary focus of the program is the independence and individuality that it affords its students.

“The kids got to present a proposal to the director of the National Museum of Mexican Art to get more student

26 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

artwork inside their museum,” Sanchez said, beaming as the sunlight poured in through her office window.

Aside from artistic and intellectual endeavors, even physical activity plays a role. “We started a teen-led running group in the summer,” Sanchez said.

“They’re supposed to build a brand and promote themselves.” The teen running group allows the students to become their own organizers and planners— skills invaluable to the professional world.

“I feel like we’re making way for this new generation of artists where maybe they don’t practice art, but they may donate to artists in the community and understand the importance of art,” Sanchez explained.

And understand they do. As Sanchez gives a tour around the Yollocalli space, the combination of artistry with decorative practices remained balanced and lively.

The graffiti room featured caulking on the walls with various cartoons and designs from the students. The media room had bright blue walls with recording equipment lining the table and shelves and plants accenting the space. There was a collaborative room with bright pink and violet streamers hanging from the ceiling, couches with cozy, abstract quilts and a sitting area with multiple Apple desktop computers.

Yollocalli’s space visually represented the combination of artistic practices that the nonprofit prioritizes.

“For the young people, it’s about choosing college or deciding not to.

Those that have gone to college have gotten as far as being accepted into the Yale MFA program or working with Google,” Sanchez said in regard to the numerous opportunities that Yollocalli prepares students for after graduation.

But one of the hallmarks of the program is its present-day opportunities.

Last Friday, Yollocalli hosted the Best of Yollo 2018, an annual showcase of the

¬ MARCH 28, 2018

NATALIE GONZALEZ

program’s art, at the National Museum of Mexican Art in Pilsen, the parent organization of Yollocalli.

The pieces were arranged by photography, mixed media, and painting, and as I wandered the gallery, the relationship of each piece to the artist and their community became clearer.

I found myself standing next to a girl featured in one of the photos. Her name was Destiny Hernandez, a photographer and model with Yollocalli.

“I really like seeing everyone else’s work. It inspires me to make mine,” Hernandez said, as her friends nodded in agreement.

Gianni Reeseń, a fellow Yollocalli member, blushed as she admitted, “I wasn’t into modeling at first, but the program really got me into it. Now with these two [referring to her friends] being photographers, I’m really used to being in pictures and having my photo taken.”

“We try to create as much as we can—think outside of the box and have more field trips so we can be as active as possible,” Crystal Taylor, a Yollocalli photographer, said, describing her role as an artist in the program.

Kaleigh Doyen is a visual arts

assistant at the National Museum of Mexican Art. “I identify a lot with the heritage here, which is something that I don’t get at a lot of other jobs. I come here and it feels like being at home,” Doyen said. As the assistant to the curator, Doyen helps organize the flow and overall vibe of exhibitions featured in the museum, exhibitions like Yollocalli’s annual showcase.

As Sanchez reflected on how far Yollocalli has come, she said, “alumni remember this space as being a place where they could do whatever they wanted and still be supported.”

Inside or outside of the studio, Yollocalli has developed a knack for encouraging members of the community to share their magic with others.

Yollocalli’s name comes from an Aztec language where yolotl means “heart” and kalli means “house.” True to its intent, Yollocalli houses the passion and vibrancy of Latinx youth throughout the city, and lends them a space in which to envision something fantastical from their daily lives—and its current students are more than ready to share their visions with the rest of Chicago. ¬

A PRINT GALLERY

JOSEPH MORA

THE UNDOCUMENTED PROJECTS ARE A GROUP OF HIGH SCHOOL, COLLEGE STUDENTS, AND NON-STUDENTS WITH MANY TALENTS. OUR MAIN MISSION IS TO FOSTER A SUPPORTIVE COMMUNITY THAT AIDS AND ADVOCATES FOR UNDOCUMENTED STUDENTS AND PEOPLE. WE SPREAD THE IMPORTANCE OF DACA AS WELL AS SCHOOL INITIATIVES FOR UNDOCUMENTED STUDENTS. WE LOOK FOR SUBTLE PROJECTS TO RESIST ANTI-IMMIGRANT IDEAS, ACTS, AND PEOPLE.

RHONDA WHEATLEY

TRAUMA HEALER. REPAIRS DAMAGE TO PHYSICAL BODY BROUGHT ON BY EMOTIONAL TRAUMA, BEGINNING AT THE CELLULAR LEVEL. 2017

WILLIAM CAMARGO

ARMANI HOWARD

KROKODIL DREAMS, 2013 ACRYLIC, INK, AND OIL PASTEL ON CANVAS 48” X 36”

NOW THAT YOU'RE HOME (FERÐ), 2014 ACRYLIC, INK, AND OIL PASTEL ON CANVAS 48” X 36”

CRANE MEDICAL PREPARATORY HIGH SCHOOL

BY SIERRA JOHNSON, BRONZEVILLE AFROFUTURISM 24” X 24” COLLAGE ON PAPER

BY LEEVON MATTHEWS, ENGLEWOOD BREAKING THE SYSTEM OF BEAUTY 36” X 48” OIL ON CANVAS

GREGORY BAE

SHADOWS OF THOUGHT, 2018 9" X 13" WAX, DETRITUS, AND URETHANE ON SCREEN.

EVENTS

BULLETIN The Big Idea Show BOP Biz Chatham Suites, 644 E. 79th St. Friday, March 30, 9am–11am. Free. (773) 891-5939. bit.ly/BigIdeaShow3 Every Friday, the Big Idea Show provides a platform for business owners, activists, and entrepreneurs alike to discuss their big ideas. Hosts Linda Perez and Toure Muhammad—business owners in their own right—will discuss the secret to succeeding in Chicago with their guests.

Find out that secret for yourself by attending this Friday. (Michael Wasney)

Mental Wellness: Supporting the Whole Black Woman Greenline Coffee, 501 E. 61st St. Saturday, March 31, 11am–2pm. $12. (312) 8809739. register at sistaafya.com/events Sista Afya’s founder Camesha Jones will lead this workshop on Black women trailblazers in mental wellness field. You will learn how a holistic approach to mental wellness can help you break down barriers in your life. (Adia Robinson)

Women’s History Night Lo Rez Brewing and Taproom, 2101 S. Carpenter St. Saturday, March 31, 5pm–10pm. $5 suggested donation. RSVP online. (888) 404-2262. facebook.com/LoRezBrewing Lo Rez Brewing and Taproom will celebrate National Women’s Month with a night of live music, stand-up comedy, and improv. Come hungry and thirsty, too—performances will be accompanied with craft beer and food from Yvolina’s Tamales and El Cucuy tacos. Donations will benefit Mujeres Latinas en Acción.

(Michael Wasney)

South Shore - March Madness Round Tables ABJ Center for the Art, 1818 E. 71st St. Saturday, March 31, 9:30am– noon. Free. (773) 644-1347. bit.ly/ SouthShoreMarchMadness The Southeast Side Block Club Alliance and the Neighborhood Housing Services of Chicago will host a series of discussions to interrogate the reinvestment,

redevelopment, and gentrification currently occurring on the Southeast Side of Chicago. They want landlords, renters, homeowners, and business owners on the Southeast Side to take part. At the first of these discussions, learn more about the changes taking place in your community and to share your unique perspective on the issue. (Michael Wasney)

Rocket Men Book Launch Museum of Science and Industry, 5700 S. Lake Shore Dr. Thursday, April 5.

7pm–9pm. $35 (includes a copy of the book). msichicago.org Author Robert Kurson penned a new book, Rocket Men: The Daring Odyssey of Apollo 8 about America’s second manned voyage to the moon. Apollo 8 crew members Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and Bill Anders will participate in a panel discussion at the Hyde Park museum, where visitors also can see the Apollo 8 capsule and mingle at a cash bar. ( Joseph S. Pete)

Jackson Rising: An Evening Book Talk with Kali Akuno

Exchange Cafe at the corner of Prairie and Garfield Boulevard. Meet at BING at 307 E. Garfield Blvd. on the last Wednesday of every month to learn about how the spaces are being used for arts programs and community engagement. ( Joseph S. Pete)

experience. (Roderick Sawyer)

Weaving Patterns and Perceptions: Art Workshop

Partnering with Spanish At DePaul, Poetry Foundation & Poetry Magazine, Open Books, and the Cultura in Pilsen—to name a few organizations— Contratiempo is hosting their tenth annual Poesía en Abril event. Come by for readings, workshops, performances, and much more. (Roderick Sawyer)

Center for the Study of Race, Politics, and Culture, 5733 S. University Ave. Wednesday, April 4, 5:30pm–7:30pm. Free, but RSVP is required. eventbrite.com/e/weavingpatterns-and-perceptions-art-workshoptickets-43316612153 Victoria Martinez is an educator and transdisciplinary artist from Pilsen who explores textiles, printmaking, site-specific experiments, and more. As Artist-in-Residence both for the UofC’s Arts and Public Life initiative and its Center for the Study of Race, Politics, and Culture, Martinez is hosting this workshop, which aims to highlight the history and importance of African and Mexican textiles. Come by and learn about weaving imagery as a hands-on

Poesía en Abril 2018 Contratiempo, 1011 W. 18th St. Wednesday, April 4, 7pm–9pm, and Sunday April 15, 4pm–6pm. Free. mpujols@contratiempo.net

Cecilia Vicuña: PALABRARmas The Neubauer Collegium for Culture and Society, 5701 S. Woodlawn Ave. Opening reception Thursday, March 29, 6pm–8pm.

Free. 773-795-2329. collegium@uchicago. edu Cecilia Vicuña’s “Palabrarmas” are described as “visual anagrams” that were created in exile in London and Bogotá after the Pinochet-led coup of 1973. This

Student Service Building, 1200 W. Harrison St. Monday, April 9, 6pm–9pm. Free. RSVP required. (312) 355-5922. sji.uic.edu The University of Illinois at Chicago’s Social Justice Initiative will be hosting Kali Akuno, author of the recently published Jackson Rising: The Struggle for Economic Democracy and Black SelfDetermination in Jackson, Mississippi.

Akuno also founded Cooperation Jackson, which connects worker cooperatives in Jackson with each other. Come hear him discuss the contents of his book— specifically the history of radical social experimentation and institution building in Jackson, Mississippi—as well as the work that his organization does. (Michael Wasney)

VISUAL ARTS Monthly Arts Block Tour Arts Incubator, 301 E. Garfield Blvd.

Wednesday, March 28, 12pm–1pm. Free, but registration is required. arts.uchicago. edu/arts-public-life/arts-block/tours. (773) 702-9724.

Tour the Washington Park’s Arts Incubator gallery and the Currency MARCH 28, 2018 ¬ SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 37

monographic exhibition is dedicated to showcasing the different mediums that Vicuña used to bridge his work with poetry and visual arts. Mediums such as banner-like works, drawing, and more will be on display. (Roderick Sawyer)

Sip & Paint Open Mic KaLab Bronzeville, 501 1/2 E. 47th St. Saturday, April 7, 4pm–11pm. $7–$32, RSVP at bit.ly/sip-and-paint. 21+. (773) 675-4415. letskalab.com

MUSIC Lil Wop with Chxpo The Promontory, 5311 S. Lake Park Ave. Friday, March 30, doors 6pm, show 7pm. $17 advance, $20 at door. All ages. (312) 801-2100. promontorychicago.com With a cosign from Gucci Mane and the most elastic voice this side of Future, Lil Wop is making waves. The Chicago-raised rock star will have a perfect partner in Chxpo, whose bangers split the difference between web kitsch and horrorcore.

(Christopher Good)

Chicago '90s Block Party Wintrust Arena, 200 E. Cermark. Friday, March 30, doors 6:30pm, show 7:30pm. $39–$89. (312) 791-6900. bit.ly/chicago90s Catch new jack swing pioneers Guy with Teddy Riley, Jagged Edge, 112, Faith Evans, and SWV at a concert that promises to have you dancing all night long. (Adia Robinson)

The Artists Space Networking Event

KaLab will kick off April with a full evening of creation and expression.

There'll be "Sip & Paint"––drinking and painting, with all supplies included––plus an open mic and free time to vent. Ticket includes a drink! (Christopher Good)

Workshop: Carving Out Your Own Place in the Music Industry Arts + Public Life, 301 E. Garfield Blvd.

Monday, April 9, 6pm–7:30pm. (773) 7029724. RSVP at bit.ly/carvingyourplace Grammy-winning drummer and Juilliard School instructor Ulysses Owens Jr. will chair a conversation on the music industry next Monday. Whether you're trying to get signed, or just want to play more gigs, come through and learn to hone the business side of your craft. (Christopher Good)

STAGE & SCREEN

Some Like It Black, 4259 S. Cottage Grove Ave. Unit D. Friday, March 30, 8pm–11pm.

(773) 891-4866. somelikeitblack.com Calling all artists: 101Classic is hosting a free networking event for all Chicago singers, rappers, photographers, videographers, poets, writers, producers, DJs, painters, and any other kind of artist.

Connect with other creatives, find your next project partner, share your ideas, and promote your work. (Adia Robinson)

NightStop with Pixel Grip, Spaces of Disappearance Co-Prosperity Sphere, 3219 S. Morgan Ave. Friday, March 30, doors 8pm. $7. 18+. (773) 837-0145. coprosperity.org Finnish synth-pop musician NightStop–– whose tunes are "specifically intended for your hi-fi stereo cassette player as you drive your Ferrari F40 into Miami 38 SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY

nights"––will debut his new LP, "Dancing Killer," at the Co-Pro. He'll be joined by local acts Pixel Grip and Spaces of Disappearance. (Adia Robinson)

Songs of the Chicago Freedom Movement: A Concert Remix The Promontory, 5311 S. Lake Park West.

Wednesday, April 4, 7pm–9pm. $25. (312) 719-3740. addiewyattcenter.org The Addie Wyatt Center for Nonviolence Training presents this all-ages concert commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the fiftieth anniversary of his assassination. With a call to action looking at the years from 1968 to now, this concert features jazz, gospel, folk, and choral ensembles. (Nicole Bond)

Mother George Dorchester Art + Housing Collaborative, 1456 E. 70th St. Friday, April 6, 7pm– 10pm. Free. (312) 857-5561. rebuild-foundation.org

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Nigerian photographer and filmmaker Andrew Dosunmu directs this story of a Nigerian couple living in Brooklyn, managing a small restaurant and defying cultural expectations. Starring Danai Gurrira, now most popular for her role as Okoye in Black Panther. As usual with Black Cinema House, there will be a discussion following the screening. (Nicole Bond)

No Blue Memories: The Life of Gwendolyn Brooks Benito Juarez Community Academy, 1450 W. Cermak Ave. Tuesday, April 3–Friday, April 6,10 am. Free, but tickets must be requested, first-come first-serve. ynoriega@ poetryfoundation.org. (312) 799-8008. poetryfoundation.org Teachers from Chicago Public Schools and suburban districts are invited to bring their sixth through twelfth grade students to four special performances of the biographical puppet play by Eve Ewing and Nate Marshall about the Pulitzer winner who remains one of Chicago’s most iconic literary figures. It includes music by Jamila Woods and Ayanna Woods inspired by the author of “A Street in Bronzeville” and “We Real Cool.” ( Joseph S. Pete)

Jackie Taylor Drama Series DuSable Museum of African American History, 740 E. 56th Pl. April 7–22; Saturdays, 3pm and 8pm; Sundays, 3pm. $35. (773) 769-4451. blackensemble.org Three dramatic plays—each written during Black Ensemble Theater’s Black Playwrights Initiative, an educational incubator for aspiring playwrights— all relevant to current events, will be presented at the DuSable throughout April. A discussion led by the actors about the topics explored in each play will follow each performance. The series opens with National Anthem by Ervin Gardner the first weekend, followed by Reginald Williams’s The Plea, and closes the third weekend with In The Shadow of Justice, by L. Maceo Ferris. (Nicole Bond)

Blood Mural The Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln Ave. Friday, April 13–Sunday, May 27. Thursdays–Saturdays, 8pm; Sundays, 3pm. $22-$40. (773) 609-4714. mpaact.org

Lauren “LL” Lundy’s play follows Dr. E.J.

Lockhart as she works on a mural about gun violence in a Chicago neighborhood suffering from gentrification. She confronts personal demons, a rival, and the institutional foundation that funds her work in a play that examines identity politics, art, and history. ( Joseph S. Pete)

Comfort Stew eta Creative Arts, 7558 S. South Chicago Ave. Friday, April 13–Sunday, May 13, Friday through Sunday, 8pm Fridays and Saturdays, 3pm Sundays. $15–$35. (773) 752-3955. etacreativearts.org Playwright and poet Angela Jackson weaves a tale of a missing child ripped straight from the headlines. Her play, directed by Cheryl Lynn Bruce, concerns how parents love their children in an evening of “memory and hope” and the “actions of the spirit.” ( Joseph S. Pete)

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Court Theatre, 5535 S. Ellis Ave. Through April 15. $38–$71. (773) 753-4472. courttheatre.org The classic 1967 film about the latent racism that surfaces when an upperclass San Francisco couple hosts their daughter and her Black doctor fiancé has been adapted for the stage by playwright Todd Kreidler. The acclaimed Marti Lyons, who’s directed for several theaters in Chicago, makes her Court directorial debut with this still-topical adaptation. ( Joseph S. Pete)

Lettie Victory Gardens Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln Ave. Sunday, April 22, 1:30pm reception, 3pm show.. $60–$500. (312) 780-3192. slministries.org All proceeds of this performance of the world premiere play Lettie, about a formerly incarcerated woman reentering society and struggling to make a fresh start, benefit Grace House, St. Leonard’s Ministries’ women’s residential program.

There’s a reception before and a panel discussion (featuring the women of Grace House and the play’s production team) after playwright Boo Killebrew’s debut at Victory Gardens. ( Joseph S. Pete)

EVENTS

FOOD & LAND Chicago Food Encyclopedia Ruggles Hall, Newberry Library, 60 W. Walton St. Thursday, April 5, 6pm–7:30pm.

Free with online registration. (312) 9439090. newberry.org A former Tribune food editor, a professor emeritus of Roosevelt University, and a food journalist and historian have assembled an encyclopedia of Chicago food. Its entries are ordered A-Z, and include Alinea, Rick Bayless, and, of course, hot dogs. Come to hear co-editors and contributor Bill Daley discuss their “ultimate reference on Chicago and its food,” and stick around after to get a copy signed by them. ( Joseph S. Pete)

Play Garden Planting Day McKinley Park Play Garden, 3518-28 S. Wolcott Ave. Sunday, April 15, 9am–1pm.

Free. bit.ly/McKinleyParkPlayPlant It’s time for the first planting phase at McKinley Park Play Garden, just south of the McKinley Park Library, and the organizers are eager for volunteers— especially high-schoolers who need community service hours. Bring gloves if you have them! The organizers will have necessary tools and a free lunch on hand, as well as more information about the garden’s official opening in June. (Emeline Posner)

Spring Seed Swap

Planting the Seeds of Curiosity: A STEM Make-athon on Botany

Jane Addams Hull-House Museum Residents Dining Hall, 800 S. Halsted St. Sunday, April 8, 1pm–3pm. Free. (312) 996-3`095. heritagegarden.uic.edu

The Blue Lacuna, 2150 S. Canalport Ave. Saturday, April 21, 10am–12pm. For kids ages 3 through 7. $25, parents free. (312) 778-6374. thebluelacuna.com

Swap seeds, share stories of growth and failure, and celebrate the beginning of the growing season at UIC’s Heritage Garden with your favorite artists, gardeners, organizers, and University of Illinois Extension educators. Seeds or no seeds, all are welcome; complimentary refreshments will be served. (Emeline Posner)

A workshop dedicated to growing young green thumbs, this STEM Make-a-thon will teach the essentials of “how plants work.” Kids will go home with a signed storybook, Paige & Paxton Go Green, about kids who get their hands dirty, and their very own seedling. (Emeline Posner)

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Announcements

General

The National Latino Education Institute (NLEI) will host a Job Fair on Thursday, April 12, 2018 at its main building at 2011 West Pershing Road in Chicago. The fair runs from 9 a.m. until 1 p.m. and admission is free. Don't miss the opportunity to job search, network, and meet with employers. Bring plenty of resumes and dress for success. Free workshops will also be onsite. For more information and to register, please call us at 773-247-0707 ext. 264

Looking to start a cover band of various Hardly Art / Sub Pop bands (La Luz, Chastity Belt, Tacocat, Nirvana [YEAH BLEACH WAS RELEASED ON SUB POP REMEMBER?]). I can play guitar.

Looking for bass, drums, and maybe another guitar. If you like Hardly Art and Sub Pop, hit me up! Contact: 224-215-1890

Services Eli is an improvising electric and upright bassist with an eclectic musical background. He also teaches and performs on guitar, piano, drums, and voice. Eli teaches children as young as four, teenagers, adults, and seniors, as well as children and young adults with special needs.

Lessons can be scheduled on a weekly basis or one at a time and are available at his Bridgeport studio or in home. Sliding scale rates are available as needed. Contact for more information. Contact: 304-550-0359

Merchandise I pay top dollar for your vinyl records.

Rock, punk, soul, jazz, folk, etc. LP's 45's, whatever you got. Give me a holler and get some cash instead of letting your records sit there and collect dust!! Contact: 773-372-6643

Jobs

Work with Grassroots Campaigns on behalf of one of the nation's leading organizations to combat hate.

Fight Hate Groups. Teach Tolerance.

Seek Justice.

Earn $11.50-$15.50/hr Part-time/Full-time/Careers (312) 574-3794 To place a Classifieds listing, visit southsideweekly.com/classifieds

Blackstone Bicycle Works

Weekly Bike Sale Every Saturday at 12pm Wide selection of refurbished bikes! (most bikes are between $120 & $250)

follow us at @blackstonebikes blackstonebikes.org

Blackstone Bicycle Works is a bustling community bike shop that each year empowers over 200 boys and girls from Chicago’s south side—teaching them mechanical skills, job skills, business literacy and how to become responsible community members. In our year-round ‘earn and learn’ youth program, participants earn bicycles and accessories for their work in the shop. In addition, our youths receive after-school tutoring, mentoring, internships and externships, college and career advising, and scholarships.

Hours Tuesday - Friday 1pm - 6pm 12pm - 5pm Saturday

773 241 5458 6100 S. Blackstone MARCH 28,Ave. 2018 Chicago, IL 60637

A PROGRAM OF

SOUTH SIDE WEEKLY 39

February 25–May 13 Lead support is generously provided by Debra and Leon Black. Major support is provided by the Fred Eychaner Fund, The Chauncey and Marion D. McCormick Family Foundation, and The MacLean Foundation. Additional funding is contributed by Jianming Lv, Terry and William Carey, Honghong Chen, Giuseppe Eskenazi and Daniel Eskenazi, Winnie and Michael Feng, Virginia B. Sonnenschein and the Sonnenschein Exhibition Endowment Fund for Asian and Ancient Art, Robert Tsao and Vivian Chen, and Charles H. Mottier and Philip J. Vidal.

Annual support for Art Institute exhibitions is provided by the Exhibitions Trust.

Corporate Exhibition Sponsor

Official Airline of the Art Institute of Chicago

Bell (nao), first half of the Zhou dynasty (about 10th–7th century BC). China, probably Hunan province. Lucy Maud Buckingham Collection.