What/Where Is The Black Avant-Garde? #1

WHAT/ WHERE IS THE BLACK AVANTGARDE ?-GARD A ZINE AB N UMBER 1

A Z I N E A B O U T B L ACK ART IS T S

B Y TYR A M ISH EL L J

NAME HERE

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"Avant-Garde" is often associated with the brilliant works of European and European descendants. This is not new and we are done talking about that.

“WHAT/WHERE IS THE BLACK AVANT-GARDE? ” Is multimedia project that seeks to question the concepts of “Blackness” and the “avant-garde” and serves as an archival tool that documents the lives and works of contemporary Black artists who identify with experimental or radical ways of art making.

Mediums may include but are not limited to visual art, music, literature, creative writing, dance, theater/performance, and film.

The project’s mission is to figure out what it means to be “ Black avant-garde” which then leads us to question what “Blackness” and “ Black art” is and what that all looks like. While working through our ideas and assumptions about the “Black Avant-Garde” we will look to see where it is happening. We will look all around us. We will look within our neighborhoods and our social media circles. It is important to note that this project should not be considered an academic thing: this is for everybody. The priority is not to just document the most happening acts because we already know their names. We want to provide space and a community for our friends and our mutuals. We want to see how cool we all are!

“WHAT/WHERE IS THE BLACK AVANT-GARDE?” is a platform for ALL Black excellence which means this project will actively seek to include the voices of woman and femme identifying, queer, and LGBT people.

“WHAT/WHERE IS THE BLACK AVANT-GARDE? " will not censor its artists, however any sexist, homophobic, transphobic or otherwise hateful behavior will not be entertained.

“WHAT/WHERE IS THE BLACK AVANT-GARDE? ” will be organizing a series of zines that will be either location specific or open. The zines will come with a media component that will be accessible online.

I made this zine first for myself because I really wanted to create a community of artists and provide them with a platform to express themsleves.

I wanted to seek and become aware of the creativity that surrounds me and the creativity that exisits beyond my town. I wanted to create something that would help keep me and others inspired. I wanted to create a fun thing, an intimate thing .....

-Tyra Mishell



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JULIUS: A W R I T E R B O R N I N U TA H , RAISED IN FLORIDA BY HIS MOTHER AND SISTER. WITH THE PEN HE H A S T R AV E L E D T H RO U G H S PA C E A N D T I M E , W H I L E ALSO REFLECTING THE PA I N S A N D E M O T I O N S O F R E A L I T Y.

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I C O U L D H AV E B E E N L A N D O C A L RISSIAN… STILL CAN

I n M a y o f t h i s y e a r, D i s n e y w i l l r e l e a s e a m o t i o n p i c t u r e o f t h e H a n Solo canon. A tail of the reckless captain of the Millennium Falcon, and Leader of the Rebellion. Which would have no choice but to feature Solo’s long time smooth talking homie, Lando Calrissian, not played by me.

N o t h i n g a g a i n s t t h e t a l e n t e d r a p p e r a n d a c t o r. I r e s p e c t h i m a n d a d m i r e and hopefully one day work with him. But the constant thought enters my head ever since I heard of the films existence, I could have been Lando Calrissian, and recently I realized, I still can. It's not too late to become who you want. It's hardly ever too late. That’s a hard concept to grasp.

Especially with societal clocks everywhere for everything. Graduate by this age. Know your purpose by this age. Make a certain amount by this a g e . H a v e a f a m i l y a n d a h o u s e b y t h i s a g e . To b e h o n e s t , t h a t ’ s a l l some bullshit.

A few days ago I was in a slump. I am not nearly as successful as I thought I’d be. And I felt like I’m too old to do the things I want to do.

Then I remembered a friend of mine who told me she didn’t start sexuall y e x p l o r i n g u n t i l s h e w a s a b o u t 2 6 , 2 7 . M y s i s t e r, s t a r t e d t r a v e l i n g i n ternationally recently around her 50’s. Danny Brown didn’t take off until he was 30 and, received a fellatio on stage, while performing, at the age of 32. 2 Chainz rebranded himself in his 30’s. Bill Withers was in his 40’s. The list goes on and on. And this epiphany hit me like a pissed o ff d r u n k w h i t e m a n i n t h e r o a r i n g 2 0 s . I d u g d e e p e r a n d d e e p e r. P e o p l e chasing their dreams well into their 70’s Still doing everything they had ever planned and fantasized.

I’m only 26, and just last year I thought, at 25, that I had missed my chance to do a lot of stuff in life. I gave a lot of my time and energy to all the wrong things and people. I’ve been writing since my mother was sick in 2005 and she later passed in 2006. It's been my escape ever s i n c e . I t b e g a n w i t h j u s t p o e m s , t h e n g r e w t o s o n g s a n d s t o r i e s . N o w, t o consolidate thoughts and prevent a mental clog, I write essays. Even in school my teachers always told me I wrote very well. But there were alw a y s p e o p l e , s u c h a s f a m i l y, w h o s a y t h i n g s l i k e , “ T h e r e ’ s n o m o n e y i n writing” “There’s enough poets or lyricist” and other negative statements that usually deter people from going for their dreams and passions. And I listened to this shit for about 10 years give or take. Then there’s the people. The friends you sacrifice time for but don’t sacrifice it for you.

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Ones you support but when you ask for the same they are nowhere t o b e f o u n d . O n e s i d e d r e l a t i o n s h i p s t h a t i n e v i t a b l y b e c o m e l e s s o n s . Yo u wake up one day and find that what you thought was love, or comfort, whatever it was that made you feel good, was some bullshit you ain’t need in the first place.

When you have dreams and aspirations it is very important to watch the company you keep. Just because she sucks really good dick, does n o t m e a n s h e ’ s f o r y o u r j o u r n e y. J u s t b e c a u s e t h e y l e t y o u l i v e i n t h e i r house rent free, does not mean they support your thoughts and ideas.

Just because they are your ‘friends’ does not mean they are actually f r i e n d s . i t ’ s a p a i n f u l r e a l i t y b u t m u c h l i k e p h y s i c a l t h e r a p y, t h e g r o w t h will hurt.

B u t t h a t g r o w t h i s n e c e s s a r y. D o y o u t h i n k O p r a h w o u l d h a v e g r o w n i f she listened to every no. Do you think George Lucas would have expanded such a universe if he let society hold him back. Society is a prison w h e r e a n y o n e c a n b e w a r d e n i f y o u l e t t h e m . Yo u c a n b r e a k o u t . Yo u might be alone for a while. Lost, cold, and hungry like a runaway slave, but that’s the price of freedom. Sometimes freedom hurts more than the comfort of chains. Weird, right. But one day that little voice wakes up a n d s c r e a m s “ N I G G A ! ! ! ! W H AT T H E F U C K A R E Y O U D O I N G ! ! ? ? ” . A n d you really as yourself, what are you doing? Wasting time. Helping other prosper while you stay in dirt. What are you building, what are you growing, what are you doing for your empire? Are you even giving yourself the same love as you give other? Marinate on that. Do you water your garden like you water everyone else’s.

M y a n s w e r s h a v e b e e n l e s s t h a n s a t i s f a c t o r y f o r a d e c a d e n o w. A n d y e a h right now Donald Glover is Lando Calrissian. But that’s right now… not in ten years or twenty years. Shit, I could start in the remake of the Empire Strikes Back as Lando smooth ass Calrissian. It's never too late to d o a n y t h i n g u n l e s s y o u s a y i t i s . Ye s t h e r e a r e d e a d l i n e s a n d q u o t a s , but there will always be another deadline, or quota, and even further another path. There’s more than one way to make a pie. Explore your options. Dig deep. Water your garden. Feed your soul. And be that Lando. I know I can still do it. And damn it I know you could to.

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J U P I TA Cc

Centuries ago Jupita fought the Federation for the liberation of the J‘tare system. Now some five hundred years of peace later, she was ready to spread her galactic wings and explore the cosmos. Since before she could remember it was her dream to venture as far as she could. Traveling the galaxies, finding new planets and cultures, and witnessing the unknown phenomenon the open universe had to offer. Her love, Ru’umi, who was adored by the J‘tareans, would take her place as queen. Ru’umi had been a fierce warrior beside Jupita, and probably the only one who understood how much the people of J’tare meant to her. There was no one she trusted more to sit upon the throne in her absence. Not to mention, Ru’umi’s playful Cc

As the two sat upon a sofa of nebula clouds, glistening tears slid down Jupita’s copper face. Ru’umi let a light giggle escape as she wiped away her tears. For what felt like an eternity, they were lost in each others embrace. Of course they have held each other many times before, but this day was different. Every kiss, every touch, every hold, and every “I love you”, held more than ever before. To fight along side your love was far easier to them, than to watch them leave.

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There was a ceremony to celebrate her departure, and the shift in power. The J‘tareans praised Jupita for her selfless act. She willingly gave them centuries of leadership and freedom and knew she deserved this. For her journey the top engineers designed and constructed a luxurious vessel made of compacted stardust as a gift, The Larenn. The hull shimmered with the hues of the galaxy. State of the art weapons and defense systems in case she crossed paths with the Federation. Amble storage for experiments, souvenirs, rations, and spare room for quarters if she came across any other traveling souls.

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As the ceremony came to and end, the new queen escorted Jupita to her vessel. At the foot of the loading ramp, they prepared for their last moment. A pale blue sun began to set, making room for the dim fuchsia moon giving off a peaceful cotton candy glow. Ru’umi took Jupita into her arms for that last time, and locked their lips together. If a kiss could be felt by all, this was that. All those in the vicinity were touched by the love passing between them while they ignored the world. They broke the kiss, shared some last remarks of love and small jokes, and parted. Jupita turned to ascend into her new mobile palace and boarded the cockpit, initiating the take off sequence. With in seconds the whirling engines overpowered the cheering voices as the Larenn began its vertical lift. In the blink of an eye, and a stream of glittering light, she jettisoned from the atmosphere. Lines on stars and passing objects zipped by with her hyperspace take off. Her journey had officially begun. No itinerary, no set destination, and not a care in the universe.

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TO H AV E LOV E D AND LOST

Is it better to have loved and lost Than to never have loved at all Is it better to drive and become paralyzed Than to never drive at all Is it better to eat and be poisoned Than to never eat at all Is it better to swim and drown Than to never swim at all Sometimes it is better to have loved The laughter and smiles Warm touches can be relived Kisses recreate themselves Moments you cherish and hold dear Are kept for days longing to remember Sometimes to have loved and lost Is hell When you visit the first kiss Yo u w i s h y o u n e v e r t o o k Recollect the first I love you And its wasted value Harsh painful memories resurrect The beatings you took out of love Late nights you discover they were not alone Their voice slandering and degrading you Then you stumble upon familiar scenes That beach, the tree stump, all those place They expressed your worthlessness Is it better to have loved and been abused To y e d w i t h a n d d i s c a r d e d Beaten and damned Cursed with the agony of loneliness Sick with self hate, all because you loved

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CET MOHAMED-MOORE "ART IS ONE OF THE LEAST VIOLENT W AY S I K N O W T O A C H I E V E S O M E S O R T O F E A R T H LY P E R M A N E N C E , W H I L E I ’ M HERE. I T H E L P S M E T E A S E I D E A S A P A R T, S O T H AT I C A N B E T T E R C O M M U N I C AT E T H E M AND CONNECT THROUGH THEM. W H E N I L O O K AT T H E C O N S TA N TLY- S H I F T I N G W O R L D : N AT U R E , P O L I T I C S , FA S H I O N T R E N D S , S U F F E R I N G S E E M S T O C O M E W H E N P E O P L E C L I N G TO W H AT E VER THEIR IDEAS OF FIRM GROUND ARE. FIRM GROUND FOR ME ARE CONCRETE SHAPES. C O N S E Q U E N T L Y, I D O N ’ T D E A L W I T H MANY OF THEM, UNLESS I’M DEALING WITH COLLAGE, OR VIDEO. I ’ V E B E E N C A L L E D “A P R O C E S S - O R I ENTED MOTHERFUCKER” AND AS ONE, ABSTRACT MIXED MEDIA IS MY HOME. T R A C I N G T H E W H E R E O R H O W O F A PATTERN, TEXTURE OR COLOR IS BOTH INF I N I T E A N D F I N I T E A N D R E S O N AT E S W I T H T H E M U LT I P L E T R U T H S T H AT L I F E C O N T I N U A L LY S H O W S M E E X I S T S . "



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"DISEMBODIED", MIXED M E D I A O N C A N VA S 8

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Eseque nusdae. Mi, omnitia acit omnis

volo doluptiis aut fu-

"DONE", MIXED MEDIA ON C A N VA S



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“DONE” WAS ORIGINALLY A P I E C E I H AT E D .

In 2016, I arbitrarily decided that I couldn’t throw away or put a k n i f e t h r o u g h a n y p a i n t i n g s I f u c k e d u p a l l y e a r. A l l I c o u l d d o w a s s t a r t o v e r, o r l e a v e t h e k n i f i n g ’ t i l 2 0 1 7 .

“Done” was the third, maybe the fourth iteration of what I started on this particular canvas.

“Dissatisfaction” was an understatement for everything I had d o n e u p u n t i l t h a t p o i n t a n d h o n e s t l y, i t ’ s s t i l l a c l o s e c o n t e n d er for the name of this piece.

As I moved from one version to the next I found myself wanting to scrub the traces of the previous versions. “Why?” I kept asking myself. There were textures and colors from previous versions I found myself liking, yet I was compulsively trying to e r a s e a n y t r a c e o f w h a t l i e b e n e a t h , b e f o r e s t a r t i n g o v e r.

As I added colors here, squeegeed there, used non-archival mediums and watched my intentions go awry… I couldn’t help hearing echoes… some my own… but a large number of them o t h e r p e o p l e ’s v o i c e s . Vo i c e s t h a t I d i d n ’ t a c t u a l l y b e l i e v e , b u t that played out in my compulsions, nonetheless. As I worked, I started to notice them more and more in other people, as well.

How many of us try to cover up what lies beneath, when we’re actually not ashamed?

What are the messages we get about presenting ourselves as finished products?

Even if we’re personally not capitalists, isn’t there something inherently capitalist and therefore unnatural/subhuman about that line of thinking?

How does this contribute to us walking around with chips on our shoulders?

In 2017, I watched a sermon by Bishop Carlton D. Pearson where he talked about how we know we’re okay and we balk when we’re made to feel otherwise and it resonated with me. He said:

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Everybody wants to be saved.

They really want to be healed and they want to feel safe…. secure. That’s one of the primary gods you worship.

Whenever you feel less than safe, a rebellion occurs.

Cuz in your soul, you know you’re okay… and when anybody suggests otherwise, your nostrils flare… especially when somebody who loves you makes you feel less than loved.

I believe the process behind “Done” and the other work I did around this time truly made me receptive to clearly seeing what Bishop Pearson was talking about.

In a society obsessed with perfection, it’s easy to conf l a t e , “ p e r f e c t i o n ” w i t h “ d o n e ”, b u t t h e t w o a r e n o t i n h e r e n t l y t h e s a m e . Yo u c a n b e d o n e f o r n o w a n d p e r f e c t a t the same time, a “work in progress” if you will. I know I’m not the first to say that, but until that becomes normal to say, it’ll bear repeating.

When you’re okay with showing up as that work in progress and others shame you for it, it creates this split in you, that causes you to walk around with a chip on your shoulder even though you know good and damn well that you’re fine.

Knowing you’re fine doesn’t keep you from compulsively doing shit to try to prevent hearing other people chirp at you though, at least until you decide to turn other people down or off and turn you up or cut people out, altogether.

In case you’re wondering, it’s February 2-18 and I still haven’t knifed any pieces since 2016.

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GLAUDE SNOUSHA

" H I ! I A M S . G A U D E , O R I G I N AT O R O F T H E S E P I E C E S ! I H AV E A LWAY S B E E N I N TERESTED IN PHOTOGRAPHY AND DESIGN. I WAS BORN IN ORLANDO AND M O V E D T O S A R A S O TA T O O B TA I N M Y BACHELOR'S OF LIBERAL ARTS. PRESE N T L Y, I W O R K A T A R E H A B I L I T A T I O N C E N T E R F O R S T R U G G L I N G A D U LT S .

MUCH OF MY WORK FOCUSES ON DEP R E S S I O N , M A N I A , T R A N Q U I L I T Y, A N D C H A O S . M Y B I G G E S T I N S P I R AT I O N A R E PLANTS, MY MOM, AND THE SUN. IN ADD I T I O N T O P H O T O G R A P H Y, I P E R F O R M HIP-HOP FREESTYLE WITH THE @N.E.BODIED COLLECTIVE."

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HOW ARE YOU DOING?

" H A N D L E T H I S J E L LY W/ CARE!"

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" A N D T H E Y C A L L U S S AVA G E S " As black women we are told the worst thing in life is to be u g l y.

I f y o u a r e u g l y, n o o n e w i l l l i k e y o u .

W h e n y o u a r e u g l y, y o u i n f e c t t h e w o r l d w i t h y o u r w o r t h l e s s ness and depreciate the value of all your surroundings.

Ugly people deserve to stay home.

Ugly people rot.

Ugly people don't belong in photoshoots.

Well, I actually enjoy the process of fermentation.

In this chapter of my life, I am embracing any connections with me and universe that has existed for eons.

This means learning resilience from trees, discipline from the sun, and playfulness from pitbulls.

Pitbulls are mischaracterized as monsters, when really they are loving creatures.

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"AND THEY CALL U S S AVAG E S "

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S I M A LV im a writer based in b r e v a r d c o u n t y, f l

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Whensday When ​we​(A)​’ve​ became watered down crowns called extensions When the sea where my ancestors drowned became fenced in When calling out “radical” capital and storebought femme kitsch Got me labelled a stunt queen, a cunt, mean, a bitch When they reachin for their preachin bout thots and tits Became spittin on her skintone like stovetop grits When someone came along and made a film out of it Showing her whipped Showing her bleeding But you can’t show her breastfeeding

When every gold chain has a name thats not yours (by default) And a chain paired with hoops makes you a whore (it’s your fault!)

When he pulled down your pants and said its a game When games have no names When games became names When showing her slumped in grass When showing her overcome, but You can’t show her cumming

When people say i dont look at a situation from all sides But i’m ​black on all sides of all my sides !

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TYRA MISHELL TYRA MISHELL IS AN ARTIST + ARCHIVIST BASED IN TAMPA, FLORIDA CURRENTLY EXPLORING MULTIPLE MEDIUMS AND DOING WHATEVER FEEEELS GOOD.

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*~ETC~* THIS IS IT! Thanks for reading and supporting this zine. It has been so fun working on this thing and i cant wait to do another one! This project could not have been without the help of the artists involved <3 check out these folk's instagrams and say hello! julius:@blackprettyincloudcity cet: @cetmohamedmoore s. gaude: @werkovawrt sim alv: @thesims_bustinout tyra mishell ( dis me) : @sourrflowerr also! if you wanna be included in the next zine, hit me up at @sourrflowerr so we can build something special (: also if you have any questions for me, feel free to reach out. k, cya

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