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My Collective Introspective (1999–2006)

It is unfair to compare classical music with so-called Jazz. One is about the unity of central control and the other is about unity celebrating diversity—many voices individual and collective simultaneously. So, the “problem” with having even the most basic African-centered education is cultivating the bell-hooks-style yearning to be a part of some kind of Jazz ensemble (without the need for heroin)—to be a part of some kind of authentic community (not a silicon thing on the way toward an initial public offering). In 1992, I returned to my hometown, Los Angeles, freshly graduated from college (after a year in Santa Cruz with my eldest son and a Latina ex-wife) with a lot of African-centered self-education on the side. So, yes, I had the “problem” and was young and strong enough to look for solutions.

I would have to ‘wait’ for 1999, when Michael Massenburg, Ethel Powers and June Edmonds grew The Collective immediately after holding informal meetups at Café Future in Inglewood California and St. Elmo’s Village in Los Angeles. So, for about seven years, I was effectively ‘wandering’ around the L.A. creative scene (at night mostly), reading poetry in places like Leimert Park, Little Tokyo, Beyond Baroque, Midnight Special Bookstore and Leimert Park again (and when I say Leimert Park I am referring to The World Stage an incredible Jazz-dominated project from poet Kamau Daaood, making a home for the Anansi Writers Workshop and the dedication of Ms. V. Kali). I also wrote for print publications such as freestyle magazine, produced by the engine of The Good Life up off Crenshaw, R/Kain Blaze. For precious detail about The Good Life, see This Is the Life by Ava DuVernay. I compiled a collection of my poetry, The Adolescence of the Cool, to capture this time span. I compiled a collection of my poetry, The Adolescence of the Cool, to capture this time span.

Within this seven-year period, in 1992, the Los Angeles uprising occurred (which was immediately followed by a riot). The uprising was characterized by brothers breaking open ATM machines and setting the money on fire. The riot part will be in whatever is in the historical footage provided to us by large corporations, starring Rodney King. To actually start to understand the historical context around the uprising part, watch The Bastards of the Party (produced miraculously by Antoine Fuqua), Freeway: Crack in the System (directed by Marc Levin) and that famous John Singleton joint, Boyz n the Hood. For even more background, dig into Devil in a Blue Dress by Carl Franklin, Killer of Sheep by Charles Burnett and Chinatown by Roman Polanski. Then watch Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner because, in the Los Angeles of 2019, “if you’re not cop, you’re little people.”

It was this late 20th-century, urban riot that sparked government- and corporate-sponsored arts organizations that specifically targeted South Los Angeles. In these subsidized, salad days, we would see, say, filmmaker and organizer of KAOS network, Ben Caldwell, giving tours of the burnt out ruins in Leimert to people who look like they are from Norway or maybe Lenny Kravitz’s 1980s, blue-contact-lens-wearing friends from Uni High (some of these spectators I daresay would later start the gentrification movement into of some of the finest real estate in South Los Angeles).

Around maybe 1993, I was involved with a government-subsidized organization that will go unnamed that was given huge seed capital that the “black” leadership hoarded and small token payments were made to members before the organization folded. Pretty much classical, 19th-century, Liberian Negro moves that influences my attitude about “black” organizations effectively controlled by non-Black people to this day. This was not the only incidence of this kind of radiant shit and we can go back and research, say, the Harlem Renaissance for precedent beyond my pathetic personal experience. Also, I am not saying never join non-Black organizations—do both when one can: this is the hallmark of truth wealth and true diversity. Experiencing the productive, progressive, self-organization of Black people as a Black person is a mental health exercise that should not be avoided.

Then, renowned poet, Wanda Coleman, shook even more things up and got an excerpt of my poem about the civil unrest in 1992 published, “Black Owe Business,” in Santa Monica’s Highways Magazine. I was not surprised that only an excerpt was published, by the way, as the embrace around my poetry north of Wilshire and west of La Cienega has been as warm as the reception for a Sekou Sundiata mural on Abbot Kinney. Events around Ms. Coleman led me to Merilene Murphy who organized several project-planning meetings with mostly Black, Latino and Asian artists in her apartment. (BTW: she had a refrigerator-sized, blue, IBM computer in her flat like it was a big-game trophy from her corporate past).

Meanwhile, as 1998 approached, Terrence McClain founded Café Future, the first internet café in Inglewood, CA. When I first heard about Café Future, it was considered as a future replacement for my time spent Leimert Park because it was closer to wherever I was living at the time and it had a healthy respect for something called the World Wide Web which was not really a colored-folks thing until Mark Zuckerberg built a walled garden for the masses called Facebook. I needed a venue that was close not just for my technical “politics” but also to deal with my surrender to corporate America: somewhere in 1996, I turned myself in and started working for Trust Company of the West as a software-developer-slash-business-analyst which was followed by contracting work in various, pre-#MeToo, pre-Satya-Nadella, hostile work environments before I hid inside of UCLA MCCS for eight, mostly-miserable years.

When I found the time to start making regular appearances at Café Future, it had to be shortly after (or shortly before), I launched kintespace.com in 1998, an ongoing collection of words, sounds, motions and stills in the virtual space of an ever-shrinking open Internet. But once I was ‘ready’ to open up, Café Future closed down (pretty much the story of my adult life). Terrence McClain productively and progressively followed this up with Joy Fanatic Foundation but I felt like we were (okay, I was) retreating to cyberspace instead of having the privilege of living in both “worlds.” Nevertheless, Terrence McClain was the catalyst that brought together Michael Massenburg, Ethel Powers and June Edmonds in 1998, his bricks and mortar held together enough for this—and certainly other—creative inspirations. I optimistically assumed that Café Future would be the geographic home of the kinté space: the earliest, English-language, Black-crafted online project that is not under the control of a governmental or corporate organization would be openly welcomed in Inglewood. Nevertheless, the kinté space would proudly host content from several Collective members—but I had to join the Collective first.

The Big Shoot

The Big Shoot, a family portrait of 150 African American painters, dancers, sculptors, writers, actors, filmmakers, photographers, art administrators, creatives and activists, came to together to take a family portrait. The event was orchestrated by Studio Naiyu of the late Joseph Beckles and the National Conference of Artists. The photograph was taken on 3/21/1999, in front of the California African American Museum (CAAM) in Exposition Park, in Los Angeles, by the late photographer Bob Douglas assisted by MonaLisa Whitaker and Sálongo Lee.

I have no idea how I found out about the The Big Shoot. One theory is that one of the most excellent poets I have ever met in person, Meloneé Reneé Houston Blue, would often call me (with a copper-wired device called a telephone), announcing that something artistic was happening somewhere—and I need to get my hind parts over there. The other theory was that June Edmonds told me about this event. My personal journal entries are reminding me that I met June as early as 1996. For the sake of this writing, June has reminded me that we met via photographer Darryl Allan Smith who I met via R/Kain Blaze back when Darryl was art-directing for something we used to call “music television.” And, no, Ms. Edmonds did not tell me about The Big Shoot.

This leaves two other people that might have tipped me off: Roland Poet X or Riccarlo Porter (A.K.A. Mahoka Zawadi)—but I’m really reaching here. Anyway, once I made it to The Big Shoot, selfishly, I remember meeting not a single person there except for MonaLisa Whitaker.

On MonaLisa Whitaker

Should one ever wonder why Black women are the way they are. Should one ever wonder why some Black women carry themselves with the highest regard in the face of the lowest regard, then one has not spent any serious time with a sister like MonaLisa Whitaker. She represents the historical tradition of Black women organizing and agitating in a state of grace. From Rosa Parks to Wangari Maathai. She is the living embodiment of self organization. When I see that picture of Rosa Parks practicing yoga, I am not at all surprised as MonaLisa Whitaker, her little sister, practices Vipassana Meditation with a distinct Yoruba accent. Like the momma’s boy I very much was, I instinctively interfaced with The Collective through MonaLisa.

With Ms. Whitaker joining The Collective after The Big Shoot, the organization was electrified. When she credits Vida Brown, Kenneth Carnes, Roland McFarland and Bobbee Zeno as additional founding members of The Collective we are seeing her powers of observation and her supernatural power to be an inclusive executive.

After The Big Shoot

Here are selected events organized by The Collective after The Big Shoot:

  • Mumia 911 Support Mural (1999) at the Museum of Cultural Diversity in Carson, later exhibited at Cafe Future and Gallery in Inglewood
  • Collective Exhibition (2000) at Watts Labor Committee Action Center (WLCAC), Watts CA
  • A Women’s Exhibit: A Few Things to Say (2000) at DesignGroup in Long Beach, featuring Sharon Barnes, Angela Briggs, Ronda Kelley, Glynnis Reed, Robin Strayhorn, MonaLisa Whitaker and Donna Woods
  • Noah Purifoy Studio Visit and Interview (2001) in Joshua Tree. Part of that visit to Noah included the Collective Artist Retreat at The Big House (a large mansion owned by WLCAC) in Silverlakes/Helendale, California
  • Annual Artists Night Out Reception (2003) at FDG Fine Art Gallery, Los Angeles
  • Come by Here: An Exhibition of Los Angeles and New Orleans Artists (2005) at Watts Towers Arts Center, curating by The Collective, featuring Angela Briggs, David Brown, Lavialle Campbell, Kenneth Carnes, Albert Cooper, Charles Dickson, Masud Kordofan, Sálongo Lee, Toni Love, Rob McMillan, Dominique Moody, Samuel Pace, William Pajaud, Glynnis Reed and Anthony Sibert Jr.
  • A Weekend of Art with the LA Collective and Friends (2006) at 422 Warren Lane in Inglewood, featuring Sharon Barnes, Angela Briggs, Ken Carnes, Ed Ewell, Gary Green, Sálongo Lee, Michael Massenburg, Roland McFarland, MonaLisa Whitaker and Toyin

Warren Lane Studio, Inglewood

From my point of view, June Edmonds was the one of the first members of The Collective to be an artist in residence for an entire community with a formal open-door policy. I regard her years in St. Elmo’s Village as such a sacred ritual. So, it did not surprise me to find MonaLisa Whitaker, in 2004, in residence at Warren Lane Studio (422 Warren Lane, Inglewood). She was followed by seniors in The Collective: Sálongo Lee, Michael Massenburg and the late, great Willie R. Middlebrook.

From the view of the artists actually in residence, it was more about being in attendance on each other than being in an ‘entire’ community. MonaLisa puts it like this:

It was my first time having separate and dedicated spaces for photography, painting and writing/art administration. But the added benefit was having the other artists there so we frequently brainstormed together, worked on different projects and overall just checked in with each other. We spent countless hours talking about art, family, life. We all looked forward to it even though, sometimes, it happened when one of us was coming in to the building and ran into each other OR, one of us knocked on the other’s door with a question-which often led to long, great, inspirational conversations.

Remember that Jazz ensemble I was looking for in the first few paragraphs of this writ? I think MonaLisa found it at Warren Lane.

Selected Third-Party Events for Members of The Collective

As the years progressed to 2006, The Collective was not able to do group shows as much as the ongoing smaller-group and/or individual efforts that were always taking place from the beginning. Here is a short list of these Collective-member events:

  • Inglewood Celebrates the Arts (2000) at Inglewood City Hall, featuring Sergio Bahamondes, Melodee Blocker, Florence Bracey, Daniel Flores, Kirkland Haynes, Amada Haro, Amarpal Khanna, Pearl Roberts, Ismael Soto, Keith Weston, Nubia Williams and Louise McGee
  • Sprit Observed (2001) at The Village at Ed Gould Plaza, featuring Opal Cullino, June Edmonds and Talita Long
  • Spiritual Transformations (2001) at Our Dream Gallery, featuring Sharon Barnes, June Edmonds, Sharaha Godfrey, Sheila Pree and Karin Turner
  • and still i rise: An Exhibition of Contemporary African-American Photography (2002), featuring Alaphia Harris, S-longo [Sálongo] Lee, Darryl Allan Smith, Lisa Diane Wedgeworth and MonaLisa Whitaker
  • Bridges III: Three Women Artists (2002) at The William Grant Still Arts Center, featuring Sharon Barnes, Zebi and MonaLisa Whitaker
  • SHAK’N: part one (2002) at Stages Theater Center, starring Saundra Quarterman and directed by Lisa Arrindell Anderson—with award-nominated sound design by Bryan Wilhite
  • Kinds of Blue: An Evening of Art, Jazz and Spoken Word (2002) at Jefferson Park Studio, featuring art by Damon Boyd, Patricia Lazalde, Alfred James Martin, Michele Martinez, Gregory McDonald, Michael Ridley and Robin Strayhorn
  • The Artwork of Michael Massenburg (2003) at M. Hanks Gallery in Santa Monica
  • 38th Annual Watts Summer Festival Art Exhibition: Five Decades of Activism (2004) at the Cecil Fergerson Gallery, curating by Miriam and Cecil Fergerson

kintespace.com Content by Members of the Collective

From the beginning, since 1998 I’ve made attempts to digitize the work of members of The Collective. Here are the results (so far) of this effort:

Current List of Active Members of The Collective

  • Amarpal Khanna
  • Angela Briggs
  • Bryan Wilhite
  • Danli Bayne
  • Darryl Smith
  • David G. Brown
  • Ethel Powers
  • Ewell Ewell
  • Glynnis Reed
  • June Edmonds
  • Kenneth Carnes
  • Kinte Fergerson
  • Michael Massenburg
  • MonaLisa Whitaker
  • Noni Olabisi
  • Ra6
  • Richard May
  • Robin Strayhorn
  • Sharon Barnes
  • Sálongo Lee

On June Edmonds

June Edmonds would disagree with what I am hearing but should I ever hear her say that she had the privilege of meeting David Hockey what I would hear instead is that David Hockey had the privilege of meeting her. (And Hockney really did meet June Edmonds.)

There is a painting in the offices of State Senator Kamala Harris by June Edmonds that is an elegant, modular, data visualization of color. This is because June Edmonds is a master of color. Whenever I see some promo for a corporate-sponsored UX designer holding a talk about color theory in, say, Lisbon, I get a bit annoyed because I know June Edmonds should be giving a talk to the person giving the talk.

There is another study in color by Ms. Edmonds that is at first glance a circular whirl. Then should one be standing next to June while looking at her work she may throw in a story about a Tuskegee Airman trainee committing suicide and one realizes that this whirl, this nautilus of cumulonimbus, is the last thing he might have seen.

I have recounted this bit to too many people too many times: June Edmonds told me that a lot of painters become carpenters to reduce the cost of framing their work in traditional, institutional wooden frames. When I started my career as a software developer, I would dare to think of myself as that kind of carpenter. It is for words like these that I consider Ms. Edmonds my mentor—she, of course would disagree.

On Cecil Fergerson

Children in particular and young people in general have trouble understanding the value of elders. Cecil Fergerson, survived by his son, Kinte Fergerson, was one of those valuable elders who understood this and would just say things in a group setting for us young folks to take or leave. I found his behavior traditional and I felt privileged to be able to hear what he was saying.

When photographer Darryl Allan Smith was an insider at CAAM, he brought me in to try to take over the software development enterprise and web presence of this institution (which was really a play for a chunk of the State of California, starting with Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County). Cecil Fergerson would just say things about CAAM. The things that he said prepared me for any unusually negative outcomes that might have resulted from working (or not working) with CAAM. What can be said without sounding too “negative” is that my career in software development continued outside of CAAM (for decades) and I am sure that this institution in particular and the State of California in general are known the world over for their cutting-edge use of information technology.

The modern youth of my generation and at least two generations after me would assume that the things Cecil Fergerson would say were negative or even “player” hating. I found Cecil Fergerson historiographically accurate as any professional curator would be. I will never look at the Black-art history around, say, The Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena, without the eyes of Cecil Fergerson.

On Michael Massenburg

When a young Michael Massenburg was a DJ at The Five Torches nightclub on Crenshaw off Imperial, I imagine just a few hours earlier my mother was just down the street at South West College leaving classes and waiting with me, holding her hand, to get on the busses that would take her back to 70th and Normandie.

In spite of international renown, Michael Massenburg reminds me of the big brothers in the neighborhood of my 1970s Los Angeles who had the football that wasn’t “on a flat” with all the Bootsy albums. When we played football in the street, we often needed an older brother to come out and throw the football to kick off the game. Michael Massenburg is one of those brothers, with a hairstyle like André 3000, who would run out the house, throw the ball and run back in the house. Without such a “small” gesture (that we thought was huge), the game would not be ‘blessed.’

This writing effort I am struggling with right now is happening because of the power of suggestion from Michael Massenburg. Thank you, Mr. Massenburg.

Not In Conclusion

When I trap myself in my self-imposed corporate-American mental prison, I would often fall into the self-criticism around my need to network. I seduce myself into thinking that I have made no effort to meet anyone in the “business world.” It is quite clear to me that this is not the case. There has just been a misunderstanding of what “we” mean by business (Black Owe Business). In fact, in my over twenty years of self-imposed corporate institutionalization, I was only invited to three events “outside of work” by my fellow co-workers. All of these inviting coworkers have been active in the arts:

Apart from some charming, unilateral “black” magic that I supposedly need from a self-help book, it is clear to me that too few corporate minions are active in the arts—even when the corporate minions are working for a creative/artistic-related organization.

The Collective has been a manifestation of the continuum humanity living outside of the fantasy of killer ape theory. To live outside of this fantasy is to live with a “problem” but these self-organizations will live on as long as humanity can live on. I am privileged to have been a part of great happenings and me do look forward to more.

@rasx() [Bryan Wilhite]