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Creation is everything you do make something

CREATION IS

EVERYTHING YOU DO

MAKE SOMETHING

With this compelling order, I set out to create a zine.

During my reading of Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo, I underwent a series of deeply personal transformations that I wanted to document. I became interested in creating a zine as an archival document. In it, I have included pieces of poetry and stories that I have written as well as pieces written by Shange herself. Creating a zine was a way that I could engage with the work in both tactile and spiritual ways and it illuminated some new aspects of what an archival process means. This archival process sometimes meant reading old love letters aloud. Or cutting out clippings from brochures I had been keeping as souvenirs from significant events.

My guidelines for creating a zine:

  • Everything you do: to walk, and speak, and touch.
  • Make something: rely upon the imagination, engage with memory, insert pieces of yourself into all that you do

The zine has come to life in its own way. It is an embodiment of places, things, memories. It is an ongoing project that I am using to explore different ways of creating literature, encapsulating memory, and fracturing the static notion of time. It has also pushed me to further interrogate the process of engaging with the personal as political and vice versa. How can my personal, intimate interactions with the world be mobilized as political tools?

This process of blending the personal and the political is a prominent aspect of Shange’s work. In this effort, Shange has often mobilized the feminine — imposing it upon the realms of art, politics, movement building and organizing. This isn’t merely a gratuitous mechanism aimed at making a “feminist” gesture, any feminist gesture, but a revelatory process. One that uncovers the deeply feminine impulses behind Black resistance, activism, and healing. These feminine impulses are situated in Black women’s knowledge and world-making practices. How we have learned to grow and survive relies upon the ways in which Black women have practiced knowledge and world-making through their crafting, cooking, singing, dancing, loving, birthing, mothering etc.

For me, a zine presents the possibility to build on the practice of creating and resisting via intimacy and the personal.

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This podcast, by BCRW Research Assistant Michelle Chen, discusses the radical (anti white supremacist, anti classist, anti racist) feminist ideology from which zines have emerged.

“The Power of Craft”

The power of  combining the mind and the body to create.

To do — to make do.

The power of the mind, the eye, the hand and the heart

To make the original connections. 

TO create what is needed: a fire, a pot, a hoe, a knife,

A cup, shelter, cloth, tools.

To grasp

The significance of the power of craft 

Is to be eager to create a whole life. 

 

I found this in a Womanspirit publishing that was released during the Summer solstice 1982 while looking through the Barnard Center for Research on Women archives. The piece describes craft as a process that often melds the spirit and body to the object being created. The crafting process diverges from professionalized forms of creating art and is intuitively resistant to mass-production and manufacturing, making it inaccessible to commercialist impulses of capitalism. “The mind and the hand of the creator is part of the end product — “the spirit” of a work is apparent because of these unbroken connections.” (25).

Zines embody the spirit of craft in these feminine, anti-capitalist intuitions.

Art as personal

Lisa Gail Collins explores the ways in which the Black Arts and Feminist Arts Movements are respectively produced from visions of Black and Feminist collective resistance. Both movements symbolize attempts to shape communal consciousness through intellectualism and art as channels of self-awareness and collective identity making. These processes are important cornerstones of political aims of both groups to rupture social order. Collins points out that despite their mirroring ideologies, these two political movements remained disjointed. “Only a vital handful of courageous visionaries…drew from and shaped both movements.” (Collins 274)  Ntozake Shange is found among the brave few listed by Collins. Shange combines the respective values found in the Black Arts and Feminist Art Movements, creating a new tradition of art –  incorporating poetry, storytelling, and dance – that retains a commitment to collectivity and resistance in its consciousness-raising efforts. Shange requires her readers to remain cognizant of the multivalent voices of Blackness and womanness that cross temporal bounds, creating an interweaving texture of kinship and collectivity. For Shange, the poet’s voice comes from a collective, and through her voice, the poet can “be everywhere/all at once” (5). In “takin a solo/ a poetic possibility/ a poetic imperative”, Shange insists upon unbinding the “energy levels” (5) toward which a poet’s voice extends itself. Meaning, the voice of the poet should remain untethered to expectations of producing an empirical analysis about the collective condition of Blackness, or womanness. But this notion is not to be divorced from Shange’s dedication to connecting all parts of her identity and consciousness to her art. For Shange, the interconnectedness of varying narratives across spatial and temporal bounds contribute to the formation of an individual voice. A voice that is not individual in its conception or existence – as it emerges from, and is forged within a collective model of kinship – but individual in its reliance upon the personal (21) to produce art.

 

I rang the bell/to k’s walkup/

the men/sitting outside/the

bodega in/ a circle/slapping/

dominos

onto a low/round

table/reminding

me of

my father’s wake/men

he knew/gathered underneath the

breadfruit tree

spilling/sips of rum in/

between/cracks

shouts/partaking in their own/

farewell/these men/

brown/lined brows/

these men/

blck/

carry/peaks of rollin

black/mountains

gentle sloping/on

brwn brows/

do i

need help/getting upstairs/

cantanme/a shake

reminding me/

father/

falls quickly/in love

with a brwn girl/her rolling ass/

bronze thighs/

round mouth/curving

hips/wet feet/

in love/heaving

chest warm

home/rippling

home cookin

sizzlin/poppin corn

roasted

open fire/a humid night sky/

do i

need help/

getting home

Having The Bravery To Live In Pairs

by Yemi 1 Comment

In the first paragraph of “Nappy Edges,” Shange writes, “if i asked: is this james brown of clifford jordan? you wd know. if i said: is this fletcher henderson’s band or the black byrds? you wd know. i say/ pick one: ayler or coltrane… most of you wd know. the tone. the lyric. rhythm & cadence of the musician is a personal thing to you. you listen & learn (2).”

This excerpt represents how we are all familiar with our individual preferences, likes, and dislikes. We’re in tune with our hopes, our rage, our passions, but to understand ourselves even deeper it’s necessary to pivot our eyes and attention to the similar or very different experiences of others. “Unite and mobilize (Collins, 274).”

In the same way listening to an uncommon artist can give you more insight to your favorite composer.  We would know the differences between them, but we could recognize that nothing stands alone. Everything can be viewed side by side, reflective of one another.

Another exam of this is the way God dictated that the animals should enter and abide in Noah’s ark in pairs of two. This was not only a divine instruction that aimed to elongate the existence of different species, it was a mandate that allowed animals who were similar to share the experience of the flood together. They could moo, bark, and cuckoo at each other about their fears, the lack of food, and how they were annoyed at Noah for landing on the top of a mountain.

For some reason, the Noah’s ark song I heard when I was a child, “The Animals Went In Two By Two” still resonates with me. The animals, who can be viewed as humans, go in together to face the storms that are around them.  The “HooRah, HooRah” of the song emphasizes the collective. A singular breath in, but a unanimous breath out.