Murakami, Mommy, & Me

On Sunday my mom called to ask me if I would go to Brooklyn with her to visit a close family friend who was ill. I was already planning to catch the last day of the Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, yet I wanted to see this "auntie" of mine too so I played let's make a deal with mother Ruby and she agreed to go with me to see Murakami and I would go with her to the rehabilitation center. After I hung up the phone I was excited and anxiety ridden. What da hell did I just concede to? My mom is going to hate Murakami with his animated vulgarity. There's going to be hell to pay in the art world or at least in my world come Sunday evening. As soon as we park the car on Eastern Parkway I immediately let loose the goose and tell her that she is probably not going to like Murakami. That his work is a tad fresh and not like Krush Groove fresh, but Playboy fresh. She says that she’ll wait in the car and I feel awful. I convince her to at least see what else is showing at the Museum or in the Botanical Gardens next door. When she sees the crazy long line of folks at the museum’s entrance and the diversity of the masses—old, young, anglo, asian, black, boheme, big-boned big-mammas, and mohawked mulattos, she states "oh hell I gotta see what all of this about" and so we proceed. In the first room we are met by three different versions of this robotic femme whose breasts are exposed and retractable. By the third version her body has morphed into this flat missile like plane. It was outrageous and I loved it! Moms: "eh, that's interesting." In the next gallery there are the canvases for which Murakami is so well known- the skittle hued Louis Vuitton LV’s and his iconic DOB. Both mom and I were under impressed.

Our dulled senses were quickly charged for better and for worse by Hirpon and My Lonesome Cowboy--Murakami's gigantic fiberglass sculptures of a spurting sperm dilznack holding boy and another of a busty Pam Anderson type girl squeezing her nipples and using projectile breast milk as jump-rope. Classy.

But baby when we hit that room with the flowered wallpaper and this beautiful 13-foot resin and fiberglass flower ball it was all smiles. The children that were there (traumatized no doubt by the previous room of body fluids) now yelped with glee. It was the Magic Garden to the nth power. Tan Tan Bo Puking was also crazy fresh! I gotta give my boy M-kami dap for that-- the little details, the colors, the drama of it all. Whoa! Moms and I made a beeline for the giftshop. We just had to get Murakami T-shirts to mark the occasion (cause of course that's what we Moore women do)! So glad I have the kinda mom that can hang and who wants to expand her artistic boundaries beyond Charles Bibbs and Paul Goodnight.










Click here for more photos (Wired)

BLK JKS in BK @ Harriet's Alter Ego

(Laini Madhubuti, Nicole Mason, Nneka Bennett, Kissa Thompson)















I just got back from Brooklyn. Harriet's Alter Ego to be specific. The small boutique was overflowing with all sorta bohemes trying to catch a whiff of this South African funk that’s got everyone from The Fader to Time Out NY runny nosed and wanting more. My mom (bless her heart) hooked me up with a ride all the way from her place up in the Boogie down to Prospect Heights. I just had to see if the hype surrounding BLK JKS was really that deep.

I got there around 5:15PM and at first the scene was cool and tranquil. The bartender had just started mixing her firewater concoction and there were a few folks milling around out back. Word had it that over 500 heads had rsvp’d and if anyone knows Harriet's, y'all know that joint holds bout 200...snuggly. And sho nuff at 6pm, right on CP Time, heads just started rolling in like cattle to fresh green pastures.

By 6:30 myself and about 50 other people had already made our way to the front of the store to secure our spots by the sound equipment.

By 7pm the DJ was moving from ATCQ to Radiohead to Jimi Hendrix. The crowd, like the music, was growing restless and frenzied. When the heck were these cats going to finally show us what they got? Everyone was asking around: "So have you heard them perform before?" Have you ever seen them live?" "Have you heard their single Lakeside?" No, No, No. It was crazy. Everyone was crammed in booty to body. Funky armpits up against racks of cotton fresh new t-shirts and pretty summer halters. Everyone had swallowed the hype and now we were rubbing our aching bloated bellies praying for satisfaction. I heard Happy Land mentioned. I felt uneasy. Queasy even. Soon some folks were grabbing their belongings and walking out the door. It was too hot to just stand around and listen to old school records. That's why we have iPods!

7:25PM – Knox Robinson, the group's manager and hype-man extraordinaire finally got on the mic to introduce the band. Oh no wait, first they are going to play newly recorded tracks fresh from Electric Ladyland’s studios. Okay, so couldn't we have listened to them 30 minutes ago? Needless to say there was no applause after the selections played.

7:40PM — The DJ, or was it Knox, got back on the mic only to announce that they needed 10 more minutes to sound check. WTF?!? Folks sighed, sucked their teeth and many simply surrendered to their hunger for real food, for air and for activity and left. The DJ put on Nirvana's "Feel Like Teen Spirit." Ha, well it did two hours ago!

Finally I think it was almost 8PM and BLK JKS started strumming their guitars and singing beautiful melodies, saying all kinds of wonderfulness. Redemption was now finding its place in the air. Folks quieted themselves and things were cool again. If I hadn’t been so hot and mangled up in between folks and microphones and their cameras and bags for so long, I could be more descriptive. But check my video below and catch the flavors for yourself. I will say this though, their music is simple and in their simplicity they have found the key. Their songs are about the music, the pureness of music and that kinda made it worth the sweat and pain.

Brooklyn's Finest

Brooklyn is still rocking strong even though Biggie is gone, Lil Kim is on lock and Jay is retired. Never mind that today's Ellen Degeneres show was filmed in BK and that she had two of the flyest Latinas to conquer Hollywood in the house-- Rosie Perez and Rosario Dawson. Never mind that as gentrified as Fort Green and Clinton Hill are there are still pockets of soul on Fulton, Atlantic and Dekalb and Junior's is still da spot for cheesecake. Never mind all that cause Brooklyn's Finest seems to be the ladies. They are doing the damn thing out there! The Love Noir, Love Yourself event at Danny Simmons gallery was fresh and was produced by just one sista and it was big. There were manicures and makeovers and skin care consultations-- lots of shea butter, jojoba oil and lemongrass. Kamilah Forbes from The HipHop Theater Festival and Def Poetry stopped by and says that she will be leaving her Clinton Hill pad for Paris to begin a theater residency. From there my grrrl Aissata, another CH’er, suggested we head to this place she had been to once that had decent drinks. The place was Grand 275 and it had been on my list for almost a year to check out. Dwayne, the photographer, was spinning Fela and there were three ladies dressed entirely in gold (like carnival gold-- body paint and everything) sitting at the bar. First thoughts about Grand: eccentric like a mutha, fake like Erykah Badu with lock extensions to her knees, and probably pricey like anotha mutha. So I take it slow and order cranberry and Ketel One. It’s only $7 (wow!) and the bartender is mad personable (say word). I found out the Golden Grrrls had been in a fashion show held earlier and that usually on a Saturday night the sisters keep the gold makeup within the confines of their eyelids and lips (whew!)... Duane puts on Black Gold Of The Sun, I see Laini Madhubuti from The Schomburg celebrating her birthday. I’m feeling like I can trust this spot and so I order a raspberry ginger martini. Yummy and it’s only $8! I turn around and get a “what’s up hotness?” It’s MeShell and she too is a CH grrrl. She tells me that she just finished her reggae/ dub record and is enjoying some much needed time off. Damn it’s like Cheers for fly a*s BK grrrls up in this piece. Michaela, Jacquette, Sharon, and Julia are there too. On second thought this place is real like Erykah with her caesar. I get hugs, a few what the hell’s and even a buyback. Intoxicating. The space is a whirl of dancing, laughter, and chatter. Barron and his beautiful wife roll in. Another ginger martini. The designer Dudumoko and even Brianna is in the house. Brianna y’all! This is historic. Mad fun. I left at 4 am. Drunk. Happy. Golden.