Zetta Elliott's Blog, page 103

food for thought

On Friday, WNYC did a segment on your most memorable meal.  I was recovering from a migraine and somehow this discussion got me down—I've traveled a bit, but I can't recall a particular meal I had abroad that would count as "most memorable."  Then, when I thought about it some more, I couldn't actually recall *any* meal that was truly memorable.  And, of course, it's not just the food that matters—it's the company, the atmosphere, the occasion.  Still, I couldn't come up with a really standout meal.  I am a recluse and I do eat too much takeout; I grew up eating Hamburger Helper and Kraft Dinner with hot dogs, so haute cuisine's never been my thing.  Food should be tasty, but also filling—and if it's prepared by someone else and affordable, then I'm good.  Can you remember your most memorable meal?  Migraines make me moody, so I'm sure my reaction was irrational; I certainly don't lead a joyless life, but memories of painful or awkward moments seem more likely to find a permanent place in my mind (such a Scorpio).  All the other memories—birthdays, holidays, graduations, weddings—seem to settle into a kind of vague recollection of "happy times."  I think that's why I blog—it's a hedge against nostalgia and other distortions (or deletions) of the past.  Once the migraine cleared, I went downtown and enjoyed an aromatherapy massage gifted to me by a friend; we then walked toward Union Square, bought a cup of hot cider at the farmer's market, and talked about the trouble with memory.  We had a spectacular meal at Spice (will I remember what I ate a year from now?) and, as it often does, our conversation turned to art.  Rosa urged me to read Howardena Pindell's first book, and then a day later I watched Pindell talk about racism in the art industry in this film: Colored Frames — an impressive, hour-long documentary about black artists here in the US.  You can watch the whole film here.  I never made it up to the Neue Galerie to see that Klimt exhibit, but will try to go this week.  Helping my friends paint their apartments just isn't doing it for me anymore.  I need to have a brush in my hand and some gold paint…this is the painting I want a closer look at (Adele Bloch-Bauer I):

Texture, patterns, illumination…insert a figure of a black woman and that's the painting I want to make.  Art is a form of memory…

the pursuit of…

Mario Van Peebles has made a short documentary called Bring Your A Game, which you can watch here.  The film features Chris Rock, Spike Lee, Ice Cube, Kevin Powell, and other famous black men giving advice to the 50% of young brothers who drop out of high school each year. I'm going to lead with what I like.  I like that this film is real about what the future looks like without an education.  I like that there are a range of black men talking about their failures, close calls, and triumphs.  I like that some of the men talk about humility—taking a crappy job and doing it expertly.  And I think I spotted at least two gay men in the film.  There aren't any women, however, and I think that's a missed opportunity.  It reinforces the idea too many young men already have: women have nothing important to say.  And most of the successful men seem to be wealthy—the "how to become a CEO" message is popular with young men, but I think we need to question the drive for wealth.  What about all the other ways to be successful and happy in life?  What about personal fulfillment?  What about giving back to your community?  What about taking a job that gives your life meaning?  How come no one in that film talked about becoming a public school teacher?  I'm glad they urged young men to reconsider the rapper/baller fantasy, but our young people need to really DREAM without limits—imagine a future that isn't determined by how many records or hoodies you can sell.  In my family, the message was ministry: find a way to serve.  SERVE.  Not sell.  What do you think?

birthday blooms

It didn't feel like fall today, and I was feeling a little under the weather despite the sunshine so had a very low-key birthday.  The garden was full of blooming things–clematis, roses, and even rogue rhododendron:

Came home and took my annual birthday portrait before enjoying some cake (minus the icing) and Indian food.  Tonight's goal is to reach 57K words.  Tomorrow I head to the National Museum of the American Indian in lower Manhattan; I've got a Lenape woman in my novel and want to make sure my representation of her religious beliefs is accurate.  Strong Medicine Speaks: a Native American Elder Has Her Say was interesting, especially since my character is married to an African man and is also a healer.  But I need to dig a bit deeper.  Thanks for all the warm birthday wishes—the celebratory week continues!

autumn daze

This is my favorite season.  My birthday is in a few days, and I've always felt that I'm made of the colors of autumn.  When the season starts to change, I start to dream.  Last week I was walking through the rose garden when I suddenly heard this exchange between a teenage girl and her ex-boyfriend:

You said you'd come.

I know, but…it's far.

You PROMISED.

Immediately I saw an old Victorian house—red brick with white gingerbread lace along the porch.  And a black girl in the window, afraid.  I'm supposed to be writing my novel, but I'm tempted to write about the construction of black masculinity in MC Higgins, the Great.  I got halfway through that book and thought to myself, "Virginia Hamilton's a genius; no one's writing at this level today."  And then I read a scene that set all my feminist hairs on end.  I'm not *supposed* to be writing essays about other people's books.  I'm *supposed* to be finishing the sequel to Wish but my mind just won't stay put.  I missed my close friend's birthday, and the birthday of another old friend.  I missed TWO meetings of an organization I *just* joined.  I did wake up from my nap yesterday in time to make it up to Harlem for my friend's show at Casa Frela Gallery.  You can see one of her stunning images here.  And for my birthday week I'm going to try to visit a place in the city I've never been to before.  I have been to the Brooklyn Historical Society, but I'm heading there this Thursday to see a new opera by Ghost Star about Crow Hill, one of the first black communities in Brooklyn.  And on Tuesday (my birthday!) there's a great panel at the NYPL: Reflections on YA, featuring our very own Amy Bodden Bowllan.  On Wednesday I'm attending the "Do The Right Thing" fundraiser for my favorite literacy org, Behind the Book.  You can still get tickets and a chance to meet Spike Lee…and somewhere in between I hope to write six thousand words so I can pass the 60K-word mark on Judah's Tale.  Wish me luck!

 

everyone has a story to tell

Amy Bodden Bowllan has changed the name of her blog to remind us of the importance of LISTENING.  Tell your story at the Brooklyn Public Library:

more Brooklyn illustrators

I made it downtown just in time to catch the end of R. Gregory Christie's presentation at the Reach Out & Read conference hosted by Scholastic.  Greg shared a story about one of his books that featured primarily black children; when he diversified a scene in the book by adding a white child, trouble ensued.  "What's that child doing in a black neighborhood?" his editor wanted to know.  Is that one child just a token?  It's always interesting to hear how things play out behind the scenes!  Selina Alko talked about the influence her Turkish father (also a painter) had on her, and shared an image by The Group of Seven—famous Canadian painters whose work fills my mother's house.  Selina also talked about how her interracial marriage impacted her art; she makes sure her books reflect the world we live in, with children of many races, ethnicities, skin tones, and different abilities.  Her upcoming B Is for Brooklyn book looks fantastic!  Pat Cummings finished up by discussing her childhood as a "military brat" living in Germany and Japan, and her early understanding as a child that she could sell her works of art (esp. those with glitter!). Pat talked about the future of digital books, and the audience supported her in the idea that *nothing* will ever replace the intimacy of a parent reading a book to a child.  I ducked out once the panel ended and did this quick interview with Greg (I cut out the parts about the government, the banks, and landmines…but loved Greg's suggestion that a return to craft-making would reinvigorate our lives and the economy):

Of course, there was also a Reach Out & Read goody bag filled with useful resources for those involved with early literacy—if that's your field and you're in NY, leave me a comment and I'll send it along to you.  Also, thanks to Qiana for posting this link on Facebook: 10 Things Marketers Can Learn from a Multicultural Muppet.  If you haven't already seen the Sesame Street skit "I Love My Hair," definitely scroll down and watch the video first.

sliding glass doors

Whenever I give a presentation, I cite Rudine Sims Bishop's argument that children's books should serve as a mirror, a window, and a sliding glass door.  Students are quick to answer when I ask them to explain the difference between a mirror and a window: the former shows you your reflection, and the latter lets you see inside or outside (though in the right light, a window can also function as a mirror).  We talk about walking down the street in Brooklyn at night, and looking into the windows of people who forgot to draw their blinds; the kids titter as I prod them to consider what they could do if there was a sliding glass door.  As audacious as it seems, if you're welcomed into someone's home, you could eat and play and talk with that person instead of simply observing her or him.  These days I add a little bit more, especially if I'm speaking to a group of adults.  Peering through a window is voyeurism; the glass protects the watcher and those being watched, I suppose, though a voyeur violates others by observing them without consent.  That's why the sliding glass door metaphor is so important—a good book (taught the right way) should encourage and enable the reader to enter and engage in the world of its characters.  The question is, how many readers accept that invitation and how many prefer to stand in the shadows with their faces pressed up against the glass?  This brings to mind Jacqueline Woodson's Horn Book essay, "Who Can Tell My Story," about breaking bread and sitting at the table with someone different in order to fully appreciate the complexity of another culture:

While I am not Jewish, my partner is, and we observe and respect each other's religious beliefs and plan to raise our children with our two sets of religious values. In this way

I have stepped inside the house of my partner's experience. It is not my house, nor will it ever be, but there are elements of it we share. (my emphasis)

When I speak to educators, I now try to offer ways in which they can encourage young readers to participate in the lives of my characters.  Instead of withdrawing from aspects of the narrative that seem "too different," ask students to consider how they felt when someone they loved went away.  Ask them to name a skill they were taught by an elder or friend.  Ask them to think of a threshold they crossed—a pivotal moment of transition; which aspects of your personality stayed the same, and which aspects changed? Read a book as though you're willing to be transformed by the experience.

Speaking of Jacqueline Woodson, her dramatic adaptation of Peace, Locomotion will debut at the Kennedy Center.  Check out her article at The Huffington Post on how poetry opened up a world of possibilities for her.

Next, stop by Chasing Ray to hear what the panelists have to say about silence and rage—what made YOU want to scream when you were a teen?

 

Drawn in Brooklyn ~ Part 2

As promised, here's my interview with Selina Alko and Sean Qualls; Selina also let me know that she, Pat Cummings, and Greg Christie will be taking part in a multicultural literacy conference with Reach Out & Read at Scholastic in SOHO. From 8:30 – 11:30 am this Thursday, October 21.

Ok, so I now realize that it's not easy to film things that are under glass…so I'm just going to post some photos I was able to pull off my not-so-hot film footage.  These are *some* of my favorites, but they're also the best images I could salvage so please don't feel hurt if you're an illustrator!  If you're in the tri-state area, do whatever you can to get over to the BPL to see this spectacular show before it closes in January…you can also watch a slideshow with pristine images here.

message from the curator

Brian Pinkney, Sit-In: How Four Friends Stood Up By Sitting Down

Pat Cummings, Ananse and the Lizard

Bryan Collier, Dave the Potter

Boris Kulikov, The Eraserheads

SAm Tomasello, Mother Sea Turtle

Drawn in Brooklyn ~ Part 1

I almost stayed home today, but the whistling wind drew me out…to my surprise, many of the roses in the garden survived last week's freak hailstorm and crisp leaves had been swept into perfect piles just waiting for my feet; teens were busy harvesting their crop in the children's garden, and a boy in a pumpkin-colored sweater let his father tie his shoe and then dashed off: "I'm skipping, Dad!  I'm skipping!"  And there was no one to tease him, to call him a sissy, or say he's too old to act that way (check out this great picture book: My Princess Boy).  The garden's a sanctuary.  But my main destination was the central branch of the Brooklyn Public Library.  You've still got plenty of time to see this exhibit yourself, but I thought I'd try to film some of Drawn in Brooklyn for those folks who aren't fortunate enough to live nearby.  It'll take me a while to piece all my footage together, but in the meantime here's Part 1; tomorrow I'll post my impromptu interview with contributors Sean Qualls and Selina Alko.

no more conferences

I am very tired today, but also very grateful for the good friends and engaged educators who made this week's conferences a success.  Amy Bowllan was the perfect host/emcee for the diversity symposium at The Hewitt School, and we had a really good conversation about multicultural books with librarians, Wade Hudson of Just Us Books, and Hannah Ehrlich of Lee & Low.  Amy has posted a list of resources on her blog, so check it out.  Afterward, Amy and her daughter graciously escorted me out to Queens, and Lyn Miller-Lachmann was another fabulous hostess; we left early the next morning for the New England Conference on Multicultural Education.  Lyn and I presented on "Migration, Identity, and Return," and got a warm reception from the educators in attendance.  Afterward, a Snickers bar was in order, and then we reached NYC just as the Nor'easter blew into town…woke with a migraine today, but the sun is shining and the heat's coming on, which must mean it's chilly outside—at last!  Shadra posted the above video on my Facebook page last night; initially I freaked out b/c I didn't know it was online, but then I watched the video and realized how much I miss teaching and developing original presentations.  My talk, "Hoochie No More: Mickalene Thomas Reframes the Blaxploitation Aesthetic," was for the Feminism Now Symposium held at the Brooklyn Museum in 2008.  You can't see the slide show, but here are some of the images I shared with the audience: