This has been an interesting year as I witnessed many of my senior students emerge from being coy art students to becoming artists. It was like betting on a merger of talent, skill and perspective. The odds were that it could go either way. There are no guarantees. But when that merger happens and turns into something extraordinary then you have to applaud the student and praise the universe. That merger of talent, skill and perspective has come full circle and a young visionary has emerged.

Her Blue Body Everything We Know is the title of a book of poetry by Alice Walker published in 1991. Here's an excerpt from a poem in the book We Have a Beautiful Mother. She wrote:

We have a beautiful

mother

Her green lap

immense

Her brown embrace

eternal

Her blue body

everything

we know.

I recently had a conversation with artist Suliman Onque to discuss his recent exhibit Lineage at the Akwabaa Gallery in Newark. The exhibit featured his work and the work of his mother Yvonne Onque and his brother Samad Onque. It seemed appropriate during this month of African American history to take a look at traditions within families that embrace a legacy for the present and future generations. Suliman and I have known each other for many years, but only recently reconnected. I wanted to talk to him about his work and find out more about his artistic heritage and how it influenced him as an artist. Our interview took place on February 12th over Zoom.

Fall is upon us and winter will follow soon, but for some reason I'm remembering spring of 2010 when a small group of Catfish Friday artists traveled to Havana, Cuba to participate in a cultural exchange exhibit. I had made my first visit to Cuba in 2009 when I travelled with a group of artists, educators and the like guided by artist Ben Jones to see the 2009 Havana Biennial. It was an international art event that blew my mind.

I have been visiting the Morris Museum frequently this year. Besides being located in a beautiful space that includes both a historic mansion and the renovated addition, I have work in the current Art in the Atrium (ATA) exhibit, The Social Fabric: Black Artistry in Fiber Arts, An Exhibition in Homage to Viki Craig. This is a well curated show of 27 artists that represents a creatively diverse perspective in the use of fiber arts and quilting in contemporary art making.

I notice since the pandemic I tend to ponder a lot on gardening and growing things. I guess one reason I take an interest in nature is that we as a nation lived 4 years under the leadership of a government that was in denial of global warming and its effects on us and the environment. It wouldn’t have been so bad but wild fires raged and the number of hurricanes increased so much that it was hard to ignore what was obvious. It seemed as if nature was trying to drown half of the nation and burn the other half. Then the pandemic hit.

From the age of 0 to my early teens, my father could do no wrong. He was my hero. He was my model of manhood that would endure, cloud and haunt my perspective of men, practically forever. My father was a Renaissance man. He came to Detroit from Arkansas armed with his 8th grade book education, community endowed street smarts, and genetically inherent intellect and proceeded to make a life for himself in the industrial rich city of Detroit, Michigan in the 1950's.

It's May and Mother's Day. For our mothers we give gifts of flowers and plants because it's May. The perfect time to start a garden. Alice Walker's essay and book entitled In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens touched on the subject of gardens as the source of our mothers', grandmothers', and great grandmothers' creativity. Restricted due to their societal roles, the garden was the one place they could be expressive and explore their artistic nature without question.

I love April not just because it is the advent of spring but because it is the month we celebrate poets and poetry. April is National Poetry Month. The month we celebrate our wordsmiths and their writing. Poets and poetry have always inspired me as an artist and writer. I feel there's an honesty in the poetic word and that we can trust the poet to utter words that reflect their soul. We are fortunate here in Newark to have the Dodge Poetry Festival held here as a biennial event at NJPAC. Last year the event was held virtually because of the pandemic. Let's hope next year (2022) we will be able to gather together with the poets and revel live in their words.

The arts seem to be well represented this month with exhibits featuring the art of women and youth. With all this happening around us I'm not sure how the exposure will benefit artists financially, but it does enliven the spirit to see the arts sought out and displayed for everyone to enjoy. With spring right around the corner and signs that summer is not far behind this year affords us another opportunity to dare hope that better times are to come.

Here we are in the midst of another Black History Month along with the other customary holidays (Valentine's Day, Presidents' Day) acknowledged this month. Unfortunately, these holidays have become more retail sale events rather than an opportunity to delve into their original intent. Programs around the intended subject are becoming scarce. Even in schools the subject is never really explored with any seriousness especially because it is still on the outskirts of the required academic curriculum. But for some of us the meaning of the month goes deeper and everyday is Black History Month.

Welcome to a new year.  While we want to look at each new year as a new start, a new beginning for some of us the years just seem the same. Yes, they start on a celebratory note. We make goals and new year declarations, but as the year progresses the goals and declarations slowly fade and are forgotten.