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shahananasrin-blog · 10 months

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[ad_1] Actor Ron Cephas Jones, best known for his role in “This is Us,” has died at age 66, a representative confirmed.A representative for Jones confirmed to PEOPLE on Saturday that the actor passed away due to a “long-standing pulmonary issue.”“Throughout the course of his career, his warmth, beauty, generosity, kindness and heart were felt by anyone who had the good fortune of knowing him,” the statement continued. “He began his career at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe and his love for the stage was present throughout his entire career, including his recent Tony nominated and Drama Desk Award winning performance for his role in ‘Clyde’s’ on Broadway.”Jones’ prolific career began with performing in various theater productions in New York City. For decades, he performed in on and off-Broadway shows, and then went on to appear in films such as “He Got Game,” “Sweet and Lowdown” and “Across the Universe.” He also appeared in TV shows such as “Low Winter Sun,” “Banshee” and Marvel’s “Luke Cage.” But he was best known for his portrayal of the character William Hull in NBC’s “This is Us” — a role that won him two Emmys, among other awards.“Ron’s inner-beauty and soul was evident to the huge audience from his multi-Emmy award winning performance on ‘This is Us.’ He is survived by his daughter Jasmine Cephas Jones,” the statement read, according to PEOPLE.According to the New York Times, Jones had been dealing with a chronic obstructive pulmonary disease for years. He was advised to get a lung transplant, but decided against it because of the risks. He said he was in “total denial,” until an incident while on set for “This is Us” in 2017 when Jones had to be resuscitated after his heart was pounding and he became short of breath. In May 2020, Jones received a double-lung transplant. He spent two months at a hospital in Los Angeles, and his love for performing kept him motivated to recover.“My whole life has been the stage. The idea of not performing again seemed worse to me than death,” Jones said in 2021, according to The Times.Jones had a daughter with jazz singer Kim Lesley. His daughter, Jasmine Cephas Jones, is an actress who originated two roles in the original-off Broadway production of “Hamilton.” !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s)if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments);if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n; n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0';n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,'script',' fbq('init', '1621685564716533'); fbq('track', "PageView"); var _fbPartnerID = null; if (_fbPartnerID !== null) fbq('init', _fbPartnerID + ''); fbq('track', "PageView"); [ad_2]

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finishinglinepress · 10 months

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On SALE now! Pre-order Price Guarantee: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/not-guilty-by-amatan-noor/

Not Guilty is Amatan Noor’s unapologetic #poetic endeavor for #deliverance. Narratives of legacy, love, solitude, grief and displacement pulsate between origin stories and conjurings that revolt against despair. Trekking through cosmic intergenerational trauma and volatilities of land, Noor declares a reclamation of the body and the self. Poems spring from post-partition East Bengal, to a New Jersey Criminal Courthouse, to cascading cities across Europe and the Middle East where Noor collects soulful mementos and lessons on perseverance. This debut collection embraces one’s inner turmoil while birthing stanzas as balms of convalescence A striking tale of #survivorship, #migration, heartbreaks and joy with grit at its core. Not Guilty is a tenacious continuation of the self, past tragedies of catastrophic scope in unfamiliar terrains.

Amatan is a Bangladeshi writer Based in Brooklyn, NY. She migrated to the United States in 2005 and spent her adolescence in New Jersey. Her poetry appears in DIALOGIST, Thimble, No, Dear and elsewhere. Her work has been nominated for a pushcart prize. Amatan attended Rutgers University where she earned a dual Bachelor’s degree in Information Technology and Sociology. She began her writing career partaking in poetry slams. Amatan has won poetry slams at the Brooklyn Poetry Slam and Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Over the course of her writing career, her work has evolved to explore themes of dislocation, physical and generational trauma, diaspora, Islam and the multitudes pertaining to womanhood. Amatan lives in Clinton Hill and is in an ongoing love affair with Fort Greene Park. Not Guilty is her debut collection.

PRAISE FOR Not Guilty by Amatan Noor

Amatan Noor‘s debut chapbook Not Guilty is a revelatory exploration of what it means to grapple with legacy. Those of pain, those of love, those of dislocation and return. What do we make with the fragments we inherit, with the stories we are left with? Noor is steadfast in her scrutiny of different histories, those of land and people alike. “We know to burn the abuse into the backs of our skulls,” she writes and, later: “I answer all the questions asked of me.” But the answering itself is an act of reclamation, a rewriting herself into narratives of surveillance and erasure. With humor, with heart, with a steady gaze, Noor gives us alternate narratives. They are a reprieve and a benediction all at once.

–Hala Alyan, author of The Arsonist’s City and The Twenty Ninth Year

These poems feature a fearless blues and melodic lattice of memoir. Scenes that oscillate between mind and gut through Noor’s gift for image and insight. Poems’ virtuosic further in that this music comes while she maintains a revolutionary altitude for analysis of political economy. This collection is right on epochal time; scaffolding for the humanity to come.

–Tongo Eisen-Martin, Poet Laureate of San Francisco

I have learned/it is better to observe, writes Amatan Noor, and it is this poet’s keen and omnipresent observations that propel these poems from mere arrangements of words, into vivid and dynamic portraits. I love this poet’s insistence on affixing everyday encounters beside large and sweeping metaphysical questions. Noor refuses to leave anything out or behind—I am grateful for this poet’s ferocity and generosity.

-Tarfia Faizullah, author of Seam and Registers of Illuminated Villages

Amatan Noor pens a Brown girl’s anthem, a survivor’s song, a lesson on womanhood and loneliness and so much more. Not Guilty gives us a glimpse into a Bangladeshi woman’s existence in America. Noor is choosing liberation over others’ expectations. Her writing is packed with imagery and genuine emotion cautioning readers at turns. This is a calling out of perpetrators of violence and a calling in of self. Noor’s debut offers a mourning of loved ones, love lost and past iterations of self while calling each to account for their actions.

-Roya Marsh, author of DayliGht

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems

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nerdlifeisbetterthanreallife · 1 year

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The Last Time you Saw Me

The following is a poem I wrote 6 years ago, when my dad’s death was still fresh. It was written in an hour while waiting to go on stage for a poetry slam at Nuyorican Poets cafe, where my high school English teacher and a few former classmates were at because he was in town for a few days then. I was already out as I wrote this but I only found it a few weeks ago. I decided to doctor it up and…

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#Coming Out #creative #lgbt #LGBTQIA #loss #poem #poetry #queer #trans #transvisibility #visibility #writing

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apexart-journal · 1 year

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Jenny Fraser in NYC Day 16

money for the jam

nuyorican poets Cafe

poor to rico wordsmith

#JennyFraser #EastCoastAustralia

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aaknopf · 1 year

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In his prose debut, the poet and professor of literature Joshua Bennett tells the story of the exponential growth of spoken word poetry—of how, he writes, “a specific performance subculture came to be one of the most influential literary genres of our age.” With its roots in the Black Arts movement, spoken word grew out of the dynamic scene at New York’s Nuyorican Poets Cafe, itself the outgrowth of an East Village living-room hangout hosted by the visionary Miguel Algarín in the 1970s; he and other writers of color would gather to share and critique one another’s work, probably not imagining that the highly expressive, tell-your-truth style performance poetry they nourished would go global within a few decades—from Broadway’s Hamilton and Amanda Gorman on the inauguration stage to a robust presence in classrooms, at protests, and on campuses around the world. Joshua, a shy kid who discovered his voice in the heyday of poetry slam competitions, describes his first time out at the Nuyo in the passage below.

Excerpt from SPOKEN WORD:

On a Friday night in November of 2006, my senior year in high school, I put on a royal-blue T-shirt emblazoned with Bob Marley’s face, and a pair of red-and-white Nikes I’d purchased with my Foot Locker employee discount. I boarded the 1 train from 242nd Street after taking the BX9 bus from my childhood home, heading south for Manhattan, to a place called the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Earlier that fall, I qualified for my first city-wide youth poetry slam, which was to be held at the famous East Village bar and global center for spoken word: the most famous poetry slam venue in the world. The only other time I had been to the Village was to purchase my first album, Juelz Santana’s From Me to U, from a record shop not too far from the Cafe. I would keep the record as contraband that year—no hip-hop allowed in the house—letting its sharp cadences and outlandish tales of uptown bravado color the raps I recited to myself in the still moments between studying for English class and writing for the stage, which by November had already become my second job, alongside the gig at Foot Locker. The walk from the D train to the Cafe was an education. All the elements of my surroundings were turned up to ten: each radiant color and irrepressible sound. Bass blasting from the windows of cars, dollar pizza shops packed from wall to wall, rows of sunglasses stacked higher than any passerby. When you got to the part of Avenue C where the Cafe lives, you knew it immediately by the line that stretched all the way down the block (whether we’re talking Wednesday or Friday, it made no difference, I would soon learn), the large black awning and booth that led to the door, and the mural on the wall depicting the famed Nuyorican poet Pedro Pietri. Pietri was sketched in blue and black and surrounded by red bricks on all sides. The mural also featured five faceless figures in hats and trench coats, as if a collective composed entirely of detectives who also happened to be ghosts.

It took about twenty minutes to get to the front of the line, at which point I paid the entrance fee and stepped inside the venue. The first thing I saw was the blast of Technicolor: red and blue and bright yellow where the stage lights hit the back of the room. All the chairs in the venue were aimed toward the back of the space, where there was a bright vermilion rug onstage, and a wireless microphone in a metal stand on top of that. There were paintings all over the walls, and a DJ in the back spinning records in and out of one another at warp speed. The room was bristling, alive. On the night of that first slam, my big sister, Latoya, had just returned home from her senior year of college. She came all the way down from Yonkers to the Lower East Side to see me perform. The host that night was a poet and emcee named Jive Poetic, and the place was packed. As is custom, the DJ played Bell Biv DeVoe’s timeless hit “Poison” right after the judges were chosen and right before the sacrificial poet touched the stage. Thankfully, I didn’t draw the first slot during this particular slam. Generally speaking, no one wants to go first. When that happens, you have to set the tone for the night, and have no idea what kind of work your competitors will bring to the table. Whether you opt for a funny poem or something a bit more politically charged becomes a gut decision, instead of a strategic choice based on audience reaction and the poet who performs right before you. It’s a tough spot to be in.

Ten teenagers signed up for that night’s competition and discerning an early favorite would have been difficult amid such a large field. I did my best to stand out. As a friend’s former mentor used to say, “Your poem starts before you touch the stage”—by which she meant that the process of communicating who you are, what you are about, begins the moment the audience first sees you, before you have even opened your mouth. It may have been my first time performing at the Nuyorican, but I was familiar with the lore. I knew that when the poetry resonated, it got wild in there: people yelling, banging on tables, laughing so loudly that you could barely hear the poet. Likewise, you could just as easily tell when the crowd wasn’t into it, and that was my worst fear— not rejection so much as indifference. The point of slam is not simply to be heard. You want to be engaged, encountered, unforgettable.

The poem I performed that night was the first one I had ever written for the stage: “The Talented Tenth.” As its title suggests, it was a meditation on W. E. B. Du Bois’s theory of racial uplift (a theory, it bears mentioning, he would eventually retract). The ideas that would become “Talented Tenth” were shaped during the two-hour commute from my parents’ house to my private high school in Rye, and then back again each day. For all four years of high school, I would wake up at five a.m. and speed down the block with my laptop and books in my backpack while just about everyone else in the neighborhood, my family included, was still asleep. On those walks, I would think at length about what it meant to have been selected for this opportunity. I knew that my friends, family, and classmates from childhood all would have benefited greatly from the sort of educational resources I now had access to. Until I discovered slam, I was never able to put that feeling into words, and wrestle with what it meant to me, and for how I should live my life. Though I was exposed to poetry at home—Toya kept a copy of Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman” taped to her bedroom door—the spoken word poets who entered my life my senior year, once I started going to slams, had an energy to their work that felt altogether new. For one thing, the vast majority of the poets I met around that time were my age. They used profanity unabashedly (to my mother’s chagrin), they talked about teenage angst, structural inequality, and global revolution in evocative ways, often addressing all these subjects in the span of a single poem. I knew from the very beginning that I had found my people—and my calling.

Jive Poetic called out my name, and I walked up to the microphone to mild applause and the discernible voice of my sister yelling “Let’s go, Josh!” from the front row. I took a moment to survey the crowd, closed my eyes, and tried to reimagine the scenes that brought me to this moment. The venue was packed to the brim that night. The stage lights shone so brightly I could barely see beyond the front row. The poem began:

I am a member of the Talented Tenth W. E. B. Du Bois’s theory in the flesh The cream of the crop the best of the best or at least that’s what I’m told by my standardized tests . . .

The poem clocked in at a little under three minutes, in accordance with the slam rules I had memorized well in advance. It reckoned with my experience of double-consciousness not only as someone who is both black and American—what Du Bois describes as “two warring ideals in one dark body”—but as a child of working people who attended an elite, predominately white high school. It then moved to a much larger narrative about racial discrimination and injustice, detailing the history of segregation, lynching, and structural poverty that I had learned from my parents over the years. Like so many spoken-word performances, “Talented Tenth” was a combination of autobiography and social critique. It was my attempt to hold a mirror up to myself and my surroundings at the same time, to invite everyone within earshot to hear my story and to see a piece of themselves in it. The performance went over well, and I was awarded a near-perfect score by the judges. Ultimately, I was selected as one of the winners of that night’s slam who would go on to compete in the semifinal phase of the citywide youth poetry slam competition. After the bout, Latoya took me out to Wendy’s to celebrate. It was truly a banner night.

Sitting at the bar that evening was a man named Miguel Algarín. I had never met him, or even heard of him, before that night’s slam. When I returned to the scene in earnest during the summers after my freshman, sophomore, and junior years of college, Miguel remembered me, and would say so. He never offered advice, or feedback on individual poems, or anything like that. The point, I think, was simply to clarify that the work had resonated with him. It would take me almost a decade of study after those first encounters with Algarín to begin to understand his contribution to the art form I was every day growing to love and setting out to transform in my own way. Without my knowing it, his dreams had been the foundation for my own.

. .

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Spoken Word and browse other books by Joshua Bennettincluding his recently published poetry collection, The Study of Human Life (Penguin).

Follow him @SirJoshBennett on Twitterand Instagram.

Hear Joshua Bennett speak on “Friendship and Black Study” with Jarvis Givens at the National Museum of African American History on April 5 (registration via Eventbrite, the event will be in person/online). Joshua Bennett will participate in the Vernon and Marguerite Gras Lecture in the Humanities Series at George Mason University in Virginia on April 13 (register here; the event will be in person); he will also read in person with The Friends of the St. Paul Public Library in Minnesota on April 20.

See the young Joshua Bennett perform his piece “10 Things I Want to Say to a Black Woman.”

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

#BennettAudio #Bennett Audio #Joshau Bennett #Spoken Word #Knopfpoetry #Knopf Poetry #Slam Poetry #poem-a-day #National Poetry Month #poetry #voice

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kelleah-meah · 1 year

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My NYC Bucket List

OK. So this August will be my 8th anniversary living on the East Coast in the U.S. During that time, a lot has happened (to say the least). But it occurred to me that despite all the life changes, growing pains, and never-saw-coming absurdities that is my existence, I've managed to do some pretty cool things since I've moved to the tri-state area.

So with that revelation, a part of me felt the need to write down all the things I've done that might fall in the "tourist-y" category over the past 7.5 years. Which then led to me thinking about all of the tourist-y things I've yet to do.

And here we are.

Below is a list of 80 (so far) things I've either done or hope to do while living on the East Coast of the U.S. You'll notice that I don't have some popular things on the list like "visit the Top of the Rock" or "visit the top of the Empire State Building." That's because I don't care for heights that much, so that's not something I would ever want to do. With that said, if my NYC Bucket List inspires you and you want to add more vertical activities to your own list, I say go for it!

Before we dive in, please keep in mind that I'm an arts & culture geek and lifelong literature & history nerd. So if most of this seems boring to you, well ... I guess I'm just a really boring person.

Now without further ado ...

Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge ✅

Visit Chinatown and the Lower East Side ✅

Watch the NYC Pride parade during Pride weekend ✅

Eat at Sylvia's in Harlem

Drive across the George Washington Bridge ✅

Enjoy a show at Lincoln Center

Walk around Central Park ✅

Visit the Flatiron Building (outside or inside) ✅

Eat a slice at a pizzeria ✅

See a play during Shakespeare in the Park

Go on a walking tour of Greenwich Village ✅

Visit the Coney Island boardwalk ✅

Enjoy a stand-up show at a comedy club

Eat at a hot dog cart ✅

Hike in the woods at the New York Botanical Garden

Do a walking tour of Harlem ✅

See a movie at the Alamo Drafthouse ✅

Try an egg cream ✅

Enjoy a drag performance ✅

Visit that famous site-seeing spot in Dumbo near the Manhattan Bridge ✅

Take a tour of Grand Central Station

Enjoy a Broadway play ✅

Go to a NBA Knicks or Nets game

Eat at Sardi's

Drive across the Verrazano Bridge ✅

See an improv show at UCB (currently closed, but it's under new management so it may reopen soon) ✅

Visit the Statue of Liberty

Walk along 5th Avenue at Christmas time to see the department store windows ✅

Eat and people watch at Caffe Reggio ✅

Attend an art gallery opening ✅

See a show at Radio City Music Hall

Take the Staten Island Ferry

Be a part of a studio audience (ex: The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, The Daily Show, Late Night with Seth Meyers, etc.)

Go thrift shopping or vinyl records shopping in the East Village ✅

Eat at Carnegie Deli or Katz's Deli (the former is now closed though) ✅ Carnegie only

Visit the Guggenheim, the Met, the Whitney or the MoCA ✅ Guggenheim only

Attend a performance of the New York City Ballet, the American Ballet Theater, the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater and/or the Dance Theatre of Harlem

Grab a drink at the Blue Bar at the Algonquin Hotel ✅

Visit the Bronx Zoo

Eat a black and white cookie ✅

Enjoy an Off-Broadway play ✅

Read a book in Bryant Park in the summer

Take a dance class at Steps on Broadway ✅

Watch the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center or Wollman Rink in Central Park (and go ice skating if you can) ✅ Watching only

Visit Little Italy in the Bronx

Go to a NHL Rangers or Islanders game

See a show at the Beacon Theatre ✅

Visit Tiffany's (and buy something small if you can afford it)

Enjoy High Tea at the Plaza

Attend the AfroPunk music festival ✅

Buy a book or two at the Strand ✅

Take a tour of the Apollo Theater

Ride in a NYC yellow taxi ✅

See a concert or show at Madison Square Garden ✅

Eat at Junior's after a Broadway show ✅

Attend a lecture or talk at the 92nd Street Y ✅

Visit the Nuyorican Poets Cafe

Read or write in the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library's main branch ✅

See a movie at the Roxy Cinema ✅

Enjoy a drink at the bar in the Hotel Chelsea

Get a playbill signed at the stage door after a play ✅

Go to a late night jazz concert at the Blue Note

Visit Washington Square Park ✅

Attend an event on the Columbia University or NYU campus ✅ Both Columbia and NYU

Grab a sweet at Magnolia Bakery

Buy a book or two at Greenlight Bookstore in Brooklyn ✅

See a concert or show at Carnegie Hall

Go to a MLB Mets or Yankees game

Have a drink at the historic Stonewall Inn ✅

Visit Prospect Park

Attend a film screening at the Tribeca Film Festival ✅

Buy a book or two at the McNally Jackson flagship store in Soho ✅

Dine at the Algonquin Hotel ✅

Go to a late night jazz concert or show at Birdland

See a play at the historic Cherry Lane Theatre

Enjoy a fancy milkshake at Black Tap

Visit the main branch of the Brooklyn Library ✅

Grab a bite or a drink at the White Horse Tavern ✅

See a burlesque show at the House of Yes

Visit the Albertine Bookstore on the Upper East Side

Take the ferry from New Jersey (Hoboken) to NYC

Believe it or not, I was hoping to come up with 100 items for the list, but I've run out of things to add. If anyone has any other ideas they'd like to suggest to help me get closer to 100, I'm all ears.

You'll probably notice that I have very little on the list for the outer boroughs, so I'd be especially interested in suggestions for Queens, Staten Island, BK or BX.

Oh, and I should also mention that I'm not really interested in visiting the High Line or anything happening at the Piers. They're just not my thing.

Of course, this list is for inspiration and gratitude purposes only. It's not meant to make me or anyone feel less than. I'm simply capturing what I've done so I can look at it when I'm feeling sorry for myself in the future about how poor I am.

But it's also a lovely reminder of what else I have left to check out when money and time are on my side. ☺️

#nyc #to do list #bucket list #tri-state area #new york #new york city #tourist #travel and tourism #this is me #black bohemians #bohemian lifestyle #boho lifestyle #boho culture #downtown girl

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eyelydz · 2 years

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at Nuyorican Poets Cafe https://www.instagram.com/p/Chf2uV5OT5F/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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writemarcus · 2 years

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Power, Grace, and Noise

Whether a poetry slam, a tennis court, or a Broadway stage, Reg E. Gaines always brings his best game

by SUSAN L. HORNIK

May 25, 2022

Few poets can command a stage like Reg E. Gaines. For the past 30 years, the charismatic artist has mesmerized crowds at virtually every venue he has performed in. The two-time Tony and Grammy Award nominee, for the Broadway hit Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk, was at the forefront of the hip-hop meets spoken-word movement of the 1990s, and countless poets have been inspired by his intense performances. “Reg E. Gaines was an original member of the Poetry Pantheon who bum-rushed the stage of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in the 90s,” Bob Holman, founder of the Bowery Poetry Club and a former Nuyorican Poetry Slam emcee, tells the Voice. “That crew—Maggie Estep, Tracie Morris, Paul Beatty, Willie Perdomo, Mike Tyler, Dael Orlandersmith, Dana Bryant, Edwin Torres, Ron Cephas Jones, among others—would bring an energized audience and national attention to the Poetry Slam, which I imported from Chicago’s Green Mill Tavern.”

Holman describes Gaines as a “sly, rangy, self-deprecating” athlete-turned-poet. “His moves onstage mirrored his grace and power on the tennis court. His classic ‘Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans’ poem were the last words of a just-mugged teen lying bleeding on the sidewalk. Take my cash, take my drugs, but don’t take my kicks!” The poem was published in the influential arts magazine BOMB, performed during a Ted Talk by poet Lemon Anderson, and memorized by writers across the country. “When the Nuyorican Poets went on tour, audiences would chant the words to ‘Air Jordans’ alongside Gaines’s performance,” Holman notes.

my air jordans cost a hundred with tax my suede starters jacket says ‘raiders’ on the back i’m stylin … smilin … lookin real mean cuz it ain’t about bein heard just bein seen my leather adidas baseball cap matches my fake gucci backpack there’s nobody out there looks good as me but the shit costs money it sure ain’t free and i gots no job no money at all but it’s easy ta steal the shit from the mall parents say i shouldn’t but i know i should gots ta do what i can to make sure i look good

. . .

come out a the station west 4th near the park brothers shootin hoops and someone remarks “HEY HOMES … WHERE’D YOU GET THOSE DEF NIKES?” as i said to myself … i likes em … i likes they were q-tip type white and blinded my eyes the red emblem of michael looked as if it could fly not one spot of dirt the airs were brand new i had my pistol knew just what to do —Excerpts from “Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans,” by Reg E. Gaines

Perdomo, the state poet of New York 2021 to 2023, says, “When I met Reg, he had already cataloged most of the iconic poems from the Nuyorican School of Poetry and the Black Arts Movement in his memory, verse by verse, stanza by stanza. He was a walking anthology. His discipline was inspiring and his love of poetry is real. He can ignite your political consciousness with any of his haiku, and the full-length triptych vanity mirror scene in Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk was one of the most powerful theater moments I ever witnessed. Reg E. Gaines brings in the smoke.”

Gaines has published three books of poetry, including The Original Buckwheat, and his work appears in anthologies such as Aloud: Voices From the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, and Bum Rush the Page. With John Coltrane, Miles Davis, James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, and Malcolm X as influences, Gaines has sought to connect music with his poetry, blending the two mediums whenever he performs. “My writing is rhythm, I am not concerned about contextually what’s happening,” he explains. “I’m trying to convey complicated emotions. I’m picking words for imagery and musicality. It’s not about word choice or wordplay or use of language, it’s about what words are musical. So my whole process is picking words that are musical enough for me to convey my emotion.”

Virtually all of Gaines’s poems have music behind them. His brother Calvin’s production company, Promiscuous Music, has worked with artists such as Destiny’s Child and Lady Gaga, often working with producer Mark Wilson. Another music producer brother, Phillip, known professionally as Michael Moog, collaborates with Reg and has worked with Tiffany and New Kids on the Block. “Being around these genius musicians, my family, they understand what I am trying to create. Just like Coltrane, they understand how to tell a story via their music. And I learned how to be a better writer listening to music,” Reg asserts. Calvin adds, “When we first saw Reg perform at the Nuyorican, we were shocked at how musical and nuanced his words were. That’s when we knew we wanted to collaborate in the studio. It’s been an incredible experience.”

Gaines gave poet-playwright Carl Hancock Rux his first opportunity to record. “It was on his album Sweeper Don’t Clean My Streets,” says Rux. “He had already had great success as a spoken word artist, was on his second album, and remained generous and connected to the community the entire time. That’s the model we all lived by at that time. Each one, teach one; each one, open the door for the other. Nuyorican Cafe cofounders Miguel Algarín and Lois Griffith and so many others taught us to nurture a community of poets and artists so we would contribute something to the world,” he continues. “No one was in it for themselves. I love Reg for that, and always will. He had remained the same person he was decades ago, building platforms for as many artists as he can.”

Gaines was crowned a Nuyorican “Grand Slam Champion” in 1991, an impressive achievement within the slam poetry community. Poet Katherine Arnoldi fondly recalls memories of losing to him. “At the Grand Slam, I made the mistake of throwing my big slam poem, ‘My Landlord,’ out early in the competition. The Nuyorican was packed that night and Reg was on fire, as he always is, making the words pop and swirl. He beat me with his ‘Air Jordan’ poem because he had the force and was using it for good! Nevertheless, 30 years later, to save a little face, I have to remind him he only won by a quarter of a point!”

National tours, a record deal with Mercury, and appearances on national TV shows such as The Arsenio Hall Show, The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, and MTV Unplugged soon followed. Says Holman, “Gaines was also an important dynamic in MTV’s decision to do ‘Spoken Word Unplugged,’ a precursor to Russell Simmons’s ‘HBO Def Poetry Jam’ of a few years later.” Black Flag’s Henry Rollins hosted the two MTV versions, which relied almost exclusively on the Nuyorican Poets Cafe poets. “Gaines’s ‘Air Jordans’ became a national dialogue,” says Holman. “With ‘Queen of the Scene’ Maggie Estep, he performed the first-ever televised poetry duet/duel, trading verses (and accusations) in ‘You’re Just Using Me for Sex.’ It was a defining moment—the MTV spotlight had stopped for a moment on the Cafe poets. Poetry was now officially cool.”

A highlight of Gaines’s career was performing poetry onstage with musician Eric Roundtree and Gaines’s brother Gordon for 150,000 people at Woodstock, in 1994. The event turned out to be the last performance Gordon and Reg collaborated on; Gordon died a short time later. “Reg once told me about Black poetry, that they will love you till they understand what you are saying, then they’ll want to kill you,” says Roundtree. “He is fearless.” And while these days lots of people are trying to become celebrities, posting content on TikTok and Instagram, Gaines had little interest in his brief brush with fame. When he was nominated for a Tony, he says, he was almost relieved when Rent creator Jonathan Larson won that year. “Had Larson not passed away, I would have won the Tony that year,” acknowledges Gaines. “But fame is all bullshit; any disappointment I felt disappeared five minutes later. I was on to the next project.”

Gaines is now expanding to directing, working on varied projects, including Jerry Quickley’s Live From the Front, Regie Cabico’s Straight/Out, and Marcella Goheen’s BLAK. Since 2007, he has been the artistic director of the Downtown Urban Arts Festival, which is celebrating its 20th anniversary of presenting new works highlighting contemporary urban culture. “My passion for theater started as a young boy when my grandma took my brothers and sisters to see plays. It opened my eyes and I wanted to work more in this medium,” he recalls. “I so enjoy encouraging young artists who have something to say.” Over the past 20 years, DUAF has presented nearly 300 new plays by over 200 emerging and established playwrights, including Dominique Morisseau, Martyna Majok, Nelson Diaz-Marcano, Carl Hancock Rux, Jessica Care Moore, Craig MuMs Grant, and Ming Peiffer.

“Reg E. was the first person to hear my voice and make it feel worth it,” says Diaz-Marcano. “Saw my style and told me my voice mattered. And when my work needed just a bit of help, he offered me the space and counsel to grow. I worked with [the festival] in 2013 before I got burnt out and decided to quit writing. A few years later, I decided to give it a try again and I trusted the festival with what I believed was my last chance. I won Best Play that year. Today, I am an award-winning published playwright, and I believe entirely if it weren’t for the encouragement and challenges that Reg gave me, I wouldn’t be here today.” ❖

The 2022 festival will present four full-length plays and 12 one-acts, as well as an extended engagement of James Earl Hardy’s B-Boy Blues The Play, the festival’s centerpiece, directed by Stanley Bennett Clay. Festival performances will run from June 1 to 25 at Theatre Row (410 West 42nd Street).

Wednesday, June 1 at 8 p.m. 20th Anniversary, by Marcus Harmon Set 20 years after the September 11 attacks, two firefighters meet to remember a friend, and reveal much about themselves and the world around them. The Hard Knock Lyfe, by Cris Eli Blak When a rapper is diagnosed with AIDS, he must reckon with masculinity, what it means to be a man of color, and repairing his relationship with his estranged daughter.

Thursday, June 2 at 8 p.m. Socky Tells All, by Rollin Jewett Andy is a young patient in a mental institution who has no intention of ever leaving. Nor does his best friend—a stuffed sock monkey. The Palmist, by Sheila Duane Fortune tellers predict the future, but are they really psychic? Can they sense a murderer with a single touch?

Wednesday, June 8 at 8 p.m. Phantasmagoria, by Alethea Harnish While in university-sanctioned quarantine, a young woman learns what it means to forsake her home, her family, and her religion to live in the devil’s playground: New York City.

Thursday, June 9 at 8 p.m. Forever and a Day, by Marcus Scott Triggered by viral videos of young Black people dying, a boy genius and his best pals embark on a journey to discover the Fountain of Youth, through which they believe they can circumvent and combat the rampant violence against young Black people. The Love Not Together, by Jennifer Cendana Armas L and K are absolutely in love with each other … and absolutely unable to get it together.

Wednesday, June 15 at 8 p.m. Soul Survivor, by Alano P. Baez A man imprisoned and sentenced to die contemplates the course of his life, the story of his beloved soul singer, Sam Cooke, and the history of Black oppression in America.

Thursday, June 16 at 8 p.m. Run, by Elle Rhythm and verse drive this contemporary opera about a woman who, after a rattling revelation, awakens from a deep sleep. Adulting, by Amira Mustapha Miriam is a 30-something Muslim woman who recently experienced a loss. While she is waiting for her mother to arrive, her friend Liz tries to help her cope. How will she navigate this loss? And more important, how the hell you put on a hijab?

Saturday, June 18 at 8 p.m. For Colored Boyz, by Bryan-Keyth Wilson For Colored Boyz on the verge of a nervous breakdown/When freedom ain’t enuff is an unabashed, unapologetic display of Blackness that speaks to the human heart from a Black man’s perspective.

Wednesday, June 22 at 8 p.m. Midnight Mirage, by Zoe Howard Two strangers encounter each other on a subway platform in the middle of the night. As time bends and warps, they discover what it means to connect. The Good Cop, by Christin Eve Cato Anita Jones, a journalist who dedicates her life to civil rights and justice, is about to help file a lawsuit that will change many Black and Brown lives forever. She needs another signature, and turns to an estranged friend, Jade Santiago, a police officer who abides by the blue wall of silence.

Thursday, June 23 at 8 p.m. A Shot Rang Out, by Michael Hagins A white police officer is trapped in a warehouse during an increasingly violent protest with a scared Black teen and a disgruntled schoolteacher. Stoop, by Isa Guzman Two people from different generations within a predominantly Latino community confront the difficulties of coming out as transgender. The play is a moment, a confrontation, between two characters who care for each other but don’t have the same understanding of the situation.

Saturday, June 25 at 8 p.m. The Pride, by Joy In the Baker home, God is first. And women are kings.

Tickets and information at duafnyc.com

Susan Lyn Hornik is an entertainment/lifestyle journalist who has written for the South China Morning Post, BBC.com, and the L.A. Times, among others. One of her poems appeared in Aloud: Voices From the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, where she curated the Poets Erotica reading series.

#Marcus Scott #MarcusScott #WriteMarcus #Write Marcus #Reg E Gaines #DUAF #Downtown Urban Arts Festival #Theatre Row #The Village Voice #Village Voice

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