Balogun Ojetade's Blog, page 26

ORGANIZED NOISE: Prison Songs in the Age of Steam & Beyond

ORGANIZED NOISE: Prison Songs in the Age of Steam & Beyond

Music is the organization of noise.

Prison – a form of political organization for the United States, at least since the beginning of the 19th century – has, in all its cold, hard cruelty, produced its own form of music (or “organized noise”). This music – all of its songs from, or about, prisons and prison life – helps trace the history of human containment sonically. Prison music awakens us to the possibilities of sonic and political escape from incarceration.

The beginnings of prison music in the United States can be traced to the War of 1812. A poet named Francis Scott Key met with British officers aboard a ship off the coast of Maryland to negotiate the release of American prisoners. He was detained and from his dank cell on that ship, Key watched the Battle of Baltimore at Fort McHenry and reported at dawn to the prisoners below deck that he was still able to see the American flag waving.

He chronicled the experience in a poem titled, In Defence of Fort McHenry, which he later put to music. Eventually, the song came to be known as The Star-Spangled Banner. In 1889, the Secretary of the Navy designated “The Star Spangled Banner” as the official tune to be played at the raising of the U.S. flag, and in 1916 the song was declared the national anthem of the United States.

The relationship between prison and music in the United States can be heard most clearly through Black soundings of voice, tools, instruments and technology. It is a sonic protest against imprisonment, even as prison labor is being performed. It is simultaneous containment and escape.

Prison is a necessary function of white supremacist patriarchal capitalism – a warehousing of surplus bodies for exploitation or elimination. Prison music is a documentation of this process. Listening to, and perhaps playing, prison music is our attempt to hear ourselves survive within these dehumanizing systems.

Prison inmates were put to work in the various institutions where they were housed. Working in the cotton or tobacco fields, road and chain gangs, or clearing forests, there were different types of songs for each type of labor. A team would choose a leader as their singer, usually a man with a clear voice who could easily be heard. Proper singing wasn’t necessary but the volume of the voice was. Sometimes, teams or crews of as many as eight men were put to work cutting a tree down, with each member of that team supplied an axe. The reason the work song was so important to the team was simple; with eight men swinging individual axes at the same target, without a rhythm to work by, havoc would be the natural outcome. In an eight man team, four men would follow the lead voice on the downbeat, swinging their axes into the base of a tree, the opposite team would strike the tree on the next downbeat.

These songs were often sang in coded language and expressed the prisoners’ – many of them former slaves – feelings of re-enslavement after Emancipation. These songs of the Steam Age and beyond represent testimonials about the injustice of the criminal legal system for Black people.

Take, for instance, these lines from the haunting prison song Early in the Mornin’, which lament the rape of prisoners by the Caucasian guards:

Boy, the peckerwood a-peck-in on the,

On the schoolhouse door, sugar

Well the peckerwood a-peck-in on the,

On the schoolhouse door,

Well  

Well the peckerwood a-peckin on the,

On the schoolhouse door, Lordy, sugar,

Well he peck so hard, Lordy, baby, until his pecker got sore

Well

The theme of wrongful imprisonment and mistreatment of prisoners permeates many prison songs, which have become the foundation of what we now know as the Blues and even today, songs about the hardships of prison life are commonly found in Hip-Hop. R&B / Hip-Hop star, Akon, had written for mega stars, including the King of Pop – Michael Jackson – but his own career as a performer did not take off until the release of Locked Up, his song about his time behind bars.

In the Steamfunk feature film, Rite of Passage, we further examine prison songs and the effect those songs have on the legendary steel drivin’ man, John Henry.

What type of music provides escape for you? Which songs set you free?

THE LOWDOWN ON THE THROWDOWN

THE LOWDOWN ON THE THROWDOWN

This past weekend, I participated in the A-Town Throw Down, a revered and popular stage combat workshop held at Kennesaw State University (near Atlanta, GA) every year. The Throw Down – sanctioned by the Society of American Fight Directors – is three grueling days of full-day training in everything from 300-esque spear and shield combat to bar fighting.

On day one, after a brief warm-up, I went to my first class – Q Stick (Quarterstaff) – in which we learned and executed choreography with the quarterstaff at full speed, only breaking once for water…I knew then that I was in for a world of hurt and that these Stage Combat folks were as serious about their craft as any other combatant. I was filled with an odd feeling of eagerness mixed with dread.

After the Q Stick class, I had a great time in the Throwing Knives class and was the first to hit the target with four of six blades. I was happy about that, but after nearly two hours of throwing heavy steel in the blazing sun, happy turned to “damn” and “where in the hell is my Tiger Balm?”

After a lunch of Chai Tea (only Chik-Fil-A was open on Kennesaw State’s campus and I don’t eat chicken), I headed to my Knife Class, where we had a grand old time “cutting” (the blades were dull aluminum) and disarming each other and then ended my day with some Unarmed Fight Choreography that left me sore, but eager to return the next day.

The second day (Saturday), I began with some Instinctual Knife training and learned some things that will really enhance the blade fights in my films, then it was on to the Fighting and Music class, wherein I had to perform some of the fastest and most intricate choreography known to man. Thankfully, I was able to pick it up and execute it well; more thankfully, the teacher is a foremost master of Stage Combat and she was able to pull the fight out of us while maintaining absolute safety on a stage of about thirty people going at it simultaneously with swords. From there, I headed to what has to be the most physically demanding course on earth – the Shield and Spear class. First, I made the mistake of grabbing a big thirty pound shield and a heavy spear. Granted, I looked cool leaping through the air with such heavy weaponry, but after about a half hour of full speed choreography with the damned things, I wash smacking myself in the forehead for not picking the much lighter small shield and one of the spears made of a wood half as heavy as mine. Everyone left the spear and shield class with a lot of knowledge and a WHOLE LOT of hurt. I finally ended my day with the Whip class. I had to block out the pain in my hips, feet, back and hamstrings in order to stand up and wield the damned thing, but it came naturally and I was cracking that whip from all sorts of directions. At one point, I thought about how my ancestors were probably beaten with such a weapon, which strikes at 900 miles per hour on average (that “crack” you hear is the sound of the end of the whip breaking the sound barrier) and I got nauseous and no longer had a desire to hold the weapon, so I sat down for a breather and to center myself. After a few minutes, I (slowly and with great and painful effort) got up and returned to the floor for more whip-crackin’ goodness.

On the final day, I started off with the Ground-N-Pound Class, where we choreographed our own ground fight after a few falling and rolling drills and drills to get us to commit to “the moment”. Some of the fights were cheesy. Most were exciting. I was working with one of the instructors and he gave me permission to push the envelope, so we did a brutal fight that ended in me catching him in a toe hold and snapping his ankle and knee (it was safe – no joints were harmed in the making of this fight). After that class, I went to the Single Sword Class, where we learned and executed some swashbuckling choreography. Spatial awareness and control are essential when two people are whipping steel rapiers all over the place.

Finally, I ended my day with what had to be the funniest, silliest class I have ever taken, yet it was brilliant. The class was entitled Roadhouse! (yes, the exclamation point is part of it) and it was an exercise in controlled mayhem. Fifty people on stage having a bar fight with mugs of beer, waitress trays, tables, chairs, a bar, bartenders and all – however, it is a bar fight in the Roadhouse universe – see the movie if you haven’t already and if you have seen it,  watch it again – so things were nuttier than squirrel poop. A punch to the stomach caused you not to bend over in pain, but to stand straight up…a waitress holding a tray was invisible, but if she hit you with her tray, you were knocked out…the only place thrown chairs ever landed was the bar and paper and cups were constantly flying through the air – even if it was unconscious people tossing them.

Like I said…squirrel poop. After that hilarious and surprisingly fun class, which taught me how NOT to choreograph (one of the points of the seeming madness), I headed home for some much needed sleep.

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You guessed it…that’s me in the purple shirt after I attacked the guy in the yellow shirt in the “circle of death”.

When I awakened I reflected on the weekend…all the education I received…all the fun…but the discomfort I felt at being the only Black person at the event (well, there was one other, but he spent so much time trying to point out to everyone how Black he wasn’t – “I’m Panamanian and Filipino and yeah, there’s white in me too…I promise”) and the fact that many people avoided being my partner (“I don’t stink…I promise”) made me uncomfortable. I wondered why there weren’t any other Black people at the event, nor are there any Black instructors – let alone Masters or Directors – in the entire Society of American Fight Directors. Granted, there aren’t many Black people in theater, but there are many trying to break into film. Since you almost can’t make a movie without a fight scene nowadays, such training is essential if you are serious about your craft as an actor and certainly as a fight choreographer.

Wait do you think there aren’t any Black film fight choreographers? Don’t let the lack of Black faces in the Society of American Fight Directors fool or discourage you. Let’s examine a few:

Larnell Stovall

Seeking to use his renown as a world and international champion in fighting, weapons and forms (kata) to break into Hollywood, Larnell Stovall moved from New Orleans to California to pursue a career as an actor and fight choreographer in February 2001.

Stovall quickly established himself as one of the best in the business with his work on the popular duo of web series – Mortal Kombat: Rebirth and Mortal Kombat: Legacy, as well as the films Undisputed III, Never Back Down II, Blood and Bone and Bunraku.

Style: versatile and dynamic; incorporates high and jump kicks and acrobatics, thus he works best with quick flexible and agile performers.

Chuck Jeffreys

Washington, D.C. native William Charles Jeffreys, III – Chuck Jeffreys – began his training in the martial arts at the age of eight, starting with Western Boxing and Tae Kwon Do. He began training in Tien Shan Pai Shaolin Kung Fu in the early 70s and began teaching kung fu in 1974.

Over the decades, Jeffreys learned and mastered other martial arts styles and systems, such as Kali, Indonesian Silat and Shoot Boxing.

Jeffreys put his skills to use in Hollywood, becoming a stunt double for the actors Eddie Murphy and Ving Rhames.

He then went on to assist in the fight choreography – and to train actor and martial artist Wesley Snipes with the sword – for Blade. He has also choreographed fights for the blockbusters, Spider-Man and Freddy vs. Jason. He returned to the Blade franchise in 2004 to train Wesley Snipes and the rest of the cast for Blade: Trinity.

Style: efficient, realistic hand-to-hand combat, with occasional high and low spinning kicks for flare.

R.L. Scott

R.L. Scott was born in America, raised in Salvador Bahia Brazil until the age of 16 when he returned to the United States. It was then that he began writing and one year later, he made his first short film. He has since gone on to involvement in over fifty shorts and feature films in many capacities including writing, directing, fight choreography, cinematography, post production work, and editing.

In 2007 Scott did the fight choreography for Champion Road, a popular feature film he wrote, directed and produced and in 2008, took on the same roles for its sequel, Champion Road: Arena.

In 2012, Scott choreographed the fight scenes for the feature film entitled Call Me King, which stars international superstar Bai Ling (Red Corner). Call Me King is scheduled to be released early 2014.

Style: probably closer to Chinese cinema than any other non-Chinese fight choreographer in the business. The beauty, power and stylistic fights of films such as Fearless, Dragon-Tiger Gate, Ip Man and Sha Po Lang – aka Kill Zone – is Scott’s signature.

Balogun Ojetade

After performing stunts and fights in several films, plays and demonstrations, Balogun – a master of indigenous African martial arts – went on to choreograph fights for the stage and for the independent films Reynolds’ War, A Single Link, Equalizers and Rite of Passage: Initiation.

Balogun is – at present – choreographing fight scenes for the Steamfunk feature film, Rite of Passage, which is scheduled to premiere in early 2014.

Style: brutal, efficient and unique, combining the smooth, rhythmic, yet viciously effective African martial arts with such “exotic” martial arts as Savate, Bartitsu, La Canne, Capoeira Angola and Catch Wrestling.

 

I attended the A-Town Throw Down because I want to hone and enhance my craft so that I can create the very best films…so that I can bring you eye-popping fight choreography that you enjoy and that I am proud of.

Nothing less than excellent is expected of me or acceptable to me.

That’s my motto. Please, adopt a similar one (or just use mine) if you haven’t already and let’s make some great movies, y’all!

THE ORIGIN OF A STEAMFUNK FEATURE FILM by Author Milton J. Davis!

THE ORIGIN OF A STEAMFUNK FEATURE FILM

A Story of History, Fantasy and Steamfunk

Rite of Passage is a Steamfunk movie collaboration destined to change the perception of historical fantasy. It’s the tale of the city of Nicodemus, Kansas and the special souls that have gathered to protect it. Based on a story by Milton Davis, Rite of Passage blends history, fantasy and Steamfunk into an exciting action movie that draws you into the mysterious, intriguing – and sometimes frightening – world of Rite of Passage and the even bigger adventure yet to come.

How It Began

In 2011 author Milton Davis wrote a short story entitled, Rite of Passage. The story was about a young black man who was escaping the antebellum South to freedom  under the protection of Harriet Tubman. That night the young man had a unique encounter with another man who possessed amazing powers and abilities. Years later he encounters that same man and is recruited to help him. At the end of their adventure the ‘superman’ passes onto the young man a necklace that gives him the powers he first witnessed in his youth. His charge is to use those powers to protect those like him.

Balogun Ojetade read Rite of Passage and was captured by its message. A writer, director, martial artist and admirer of Harriet Tubman, he saw the potential of the story encompassing much more. The young man in the story became the young woman Dorothy and through the imaginations of both Balogun and Milton, the Rite of Passage mythos expanded, introducing new characters and exciting stories.

From Paper to Film

As the story ideas continued to flow, Balogun and Milton’s vision grew from prose to film. Balogun pulled together a skilled and creative team of filmmakers to produce Rite of Passage: Initiation. The purpose of this short film was to give a glimpse of the Rite of Passage world and show the skills of those involved in order to raise funds to make a Rite of Passage feature-length movie.

An Unexpected Proposal

In addition to working on Rite of Passage together, Balogun and Milton are a part of the State of Black Science Fiction Collective, a group of speculative fiction writers dedicated to promoting black speculative fiction. Their first program was held February 2012 at Georgia Tech in partnership with Lisa Yasek, Professor and Director of Undergraduate Studies, School of Literature, Media, and Communication. In 2013, the group returned to Georgia Tech, this time for the Black Science Fiction Film Festival, which Balogun and Milton produced. The event was a rousing success; so much so that, when Lisa heard of the Rite of Passage project, she gathered together the creative resources of the university and offered their help with the creation of the movie.

A Unique Story Uniquely Told

Roaring Lions Production, MVmedia and the School of Literature, Media and Communication at Georgia Tech have come together to create a movie that combines the history and spirit of the African American experience with the fantastic foundation of Steampunk to create the first Steamfunk movie. Join us in making history and in telling the stories that need to be told!

Milton Davis is a research and development chemist who lives in Metropolitan Atlanta, Georgia, with his wife and two children. A publisher, author and film producer, Milton is dedicated to bringing diversity to the Science Fiction and Fantasy field. His books and films focus on presenting people of color in positive ways, thereby challenging the stereotypes and misconceptions common in the general marketplace. Find him and his amazing works of Steamfunk and Sword and Soul at his website and at his social media site, which is dedicated to authors, filmmakers and fans of science fiction and fantasy.

THE (almost) FORGOTTEN FRIEND OF STEAMFUNK!

THE (almost) FORGOTTEN FRIEND OF STEAMFUNK!

Crowdfunding - or crowdFUNKing, in our case, dear Steamfunkateers - fundraising (or funkraising) by collecting relatively small amounts of money from many different people, has become quite popular in recent years.

We all know about the ever-so- popular Kickstarter, considered by many to be the king of crowdfunding, but we often forget the first startup to help the “little guy” bring his or her big creations to the world: San Francisco-based IndieGoGo, which has proven to be quite successful at helping to bring amazing Steampunk projects to life.

Founded in January 2008, IndieGoGo has continuously fulfilled its vision by helping multitudes fulfill theirs. “We’re really aiming to empower the dreams of many, whether it be through getting money for a liver transplant, or a new album, or a restaurant,” says CEO Slava Rubin.

IndieGoGo differs from Kickstarter in several important ways:

IndieGoGo campaigns receive all the money they have been pledged, whether the initial funding goal was reached or not. Kickstarter campaigns only receive their money if they reach their initial funding goal by its designated date.

IndieGoGo is available internationally, while Kickstarter requires a U.S. bank account.

IndieGoGo takes a 4 percent fee on funds raised. Kickstarter’s fee is 5 percent.

To be sure, both Kickstarter and IndieGoGo have their perks. Kickstarter is hugely popular, particularly because it is fantastic for finding and funding creative projects such as music albums or independent graphic novels.  But IndieGoGo funds all kinds of projects, from helping bands travel to – and play at – the Steampunk World’s Fair to raising money for an individual who needs cancer treatment.

When we decided to crowdfund our film, Rite of Passage, we decided to entrust our project to IndieGoGo because they provide better perks and a more intimate relationship with their customers than the other startups.

We felt that the first Steamfunk feature film in the history of man deserved a crowdfunding site as magnificent as the series is. After extensive research, we went with Indiegogo.

Please share your crowdfunding experiences. We would love to hear them!

To support our project and to help tell the stories that need to be told, please visit http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/rite-of-passage-the-steamfunk-movie/x/3264298.

RITE OF PASSAGE: The Web

RITE OF PASSAGE: The Web

The soles of Jake Jessup’s feet were on fire. Pine cones and dry twigs bit into his flesh as he sprinted through the dense forest.

The full moon cast a silver glow upon the leaves that crackled beneath Jake’s heels.

He no longer heard the dogs, or the curses of Master William Jessup’s slave-catchers, so he stopped to rest his weary muscles and catch his breath. “For a short spell,” he thought.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.”

Jake whirled toward the source of the voice, raising a silver carving knife – still sticky with his former master’s blood – chest high.

The most beautiful woman Jake had ever laid eyes upon stepped out of the shadows. The corners of her full lips were spread in an inviting smile. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you?” Her husky voice revealed a hint of an English accent.

“You obviously ain’t from around here,” Jake said, studying her tall, muscular frame. “You sound like this man who come from England and train me and the other catchers.”

“I’m from London, England,” the woman said. I moved here a while ago. I bought my freedom from…wait…catchers? What did you catch?”

“Runaways,” Jake replied.

“And now, it appears that you are the one who is running away,” the woman said.

“I was the worst catcher ever born,” Jake said. “Every runaway I went after got away.

“They just happened to get away, eh?” The woman snickered.

“My old master got wise to me,” Jake replied. “He decided to make an example of me…killed my wife; my daughter…so I killed him. Been runnin’ since.”

“Well, you are safe here for the night,” the woman said. “The locals are afraid of this forest. They say a terrible beast roams these parts.”

“Then, what you doin’ out here?” Jake asked.

“I love the outdoors,” the woman replied. “Besides, beasts don’t frighten me; men do.”

“Well, this man won’t do you no harm,” Jake said. “My name’s Jake, by the way. Jake Jessup.”

“I’m Tara Malloy,” the woman said, offering her hand.

Jake took Tara’s smooth, mahogany hand in his and kissed the back of it. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

Suddenly, Tara’s hand became a vice around Jake’s fingers, crushing the dense bones as easily as if she was squeezing an egg in her fist.

Jake screamed in agony.

Tara threw her head back as a growl escaped her throat. She snapped her head forward, fixing her maddened gaze on Jake. Her beautiful face had been replaced by what Jake could only describe as the visage of a rabid wolf.

Jake tried to snatch his pulverized hand out of Tara’s grip, but she was too strong and his pain was too great.

Tara yanked Jake toward her. The runaway’s head snapped back from the force as his feet skittered across the dirt and dry foliage.

Tara opened her mouth wide, revealing a mouth full of vicious canine teeth. She closed the toothy maw down upon Jake’s shoulder, rending sinew and bone.

Jake thrust forward with his carving knife, sinking it deep into Tara’s chest.

Tara staggered backward, coughing as a crimson cloud of ichor spewed from her mouth.

Jake collapsed to his knees. Tara fell onto her back, convulsed once; twice; and then, lay still.

Jake crawled to a large tree and rested his back against it. The pain in his hand and shoulder made it difficult to think; to understand what just happened and darkness encroached upon him, blurring his vision.

“Still alive, eh?”

Jake turned his head toward the voice. Tara stood beside him. He turned his gaze toward her beastly form, still lying where she fell.

“How?” Jake whispered. He wanted to leap to his feet and run, but the pain would not allow it. “What are you?”

“What was I, you mean,” Tara replied. “A werewolf; a child of Eshu; blessed with his gift.”

Tara pointed toward Jake’s wounded shoulder. “Now, you have his blessing, too.”

“I…I’m gon’ turn into a thing like you, now?” Jake spat.

“Maybe,” Tara answered. “You become what your spirit is.”

“I’m gon’ kill you!” Jake bellowed.

“You already have,” Tara said, nodding toward her corpse.”

This was all too much for Jake to bear. He shut his eyes and succumbed to the darkness.

****

Sunlight kissed his eyelids, awakening him.

Jake felt soft, warm flesh on his chest. He looked down. Staring up at him was a pretty woman with full, pouty lips and skin the color of sweet cream.

“Good morning, lover,” the woman said, flashing a smile. Her dimpled cheeks accented her beauty.

“You’d better give up that body, Tara,” Jake said, looking at the clock on the far wall of the inn’s room. “You only have a few minutes.”

“Jake, can we talk?” Tara asked, caressing his chest with borrowed fingers.

“Time’s tickin’,” Jake replied.

“I love you,” Tara whispered.

“You what?” Jake pushed Tara’s head off his chest and sat upright.

“I love you, Jake,” Tara repeated.

“We don’t have time for this,” Jake said. “A second past those six hours and this woman dies from shock or goes mad.”

Jake hopped out of bed. His flesh shifted; flowed, as if it was some thick, ebon fluid and then trousers, boots, a shirt and a leather overcoat – all a very dark brown – formed around his naked frame.

“You’re a haint, Tara…a ghost…the undead. I – hell we – hunt the undead. Love ain’t in the cards for us. ‘Sides, you did try to kill me, remember?”

“That was two-hundred forty-seven years ago!” Tara replied.

“Seems like yesterday to me,” Jake said.

A loud, sucking din echoed throughout the room as Tara rose out of the woman’s body. “We’ll talk more later.”

The woman sat bolt upright. She leapt from the bed, locking her gaze on Jake’s broad back. An ebony, wide-brimmed planter hat formed atop Jake’s head. The woman gasped and darted out of the room.

“Creole women,” Tara said, shaking her head. “So…emotional.”

“Let’s go,” Jake said, sauntering toward the door. “Ms. Tubman should have sent that telegram by now.”

****

Bourbon Street was busy.

On the ground, carriages carried people to-and-from the retail shops, restaurants, inns and houses of ill-repute. In the sky, out of the view of the common people – but not out of Jake’s view – the very wealthy and the military traversed the bustling city by ornate airships and hot air balloons.

“Isn’t it beautiful? Tara sighed.

“Nope,” Jake replied.

“What do you see, then, Mister Doom-and-Gloom?” Tara asked.

“I see smoke…and steel,” Jake answered. “I see children worked to death in dirty factories…widows turned into whores to feed their babies…and we’re still swingin’ from the end of the white man’s rope.”

“Like I said…Doom-and-Gloom,” Tara snickered.

“We’re here,” Jake said, pointing toward a large store nestled between a candy shop and a dentist’s office.

Jake entered the telegraph office. A man sat before each of the three telegraph machines.

“How can we help you fine folks?” One of the men asked, looking up from his machine.

Jake and Tara exchanged glances. Jake took a step back toward the door.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the man said, smiling. “Negro money spends here.”

“That’s not our concern,” Jake said.

“What, then?” The man said, rising from his chair.

“Well, considerin’ my lady friend here is a haint and y’all can see her without her willing it, y’all must be haints, too.” Jake replied.

The man directed his attention to Tara. “You’re a ghost, correct?”

“That’s right,” Tara replied.

“The two other men stood.

“We’re ghasts,” the man said. “A bit…stronger than our ghost brethren,”

“Hmm…ghasts,” Jake said, studying the trio. “Never had the pleasure of killing one of you. Ms. Tubman said you’re fast and can possess a body for days at a time.

“Ah, Ms. Tubman,” The ghast crooned. “After we kill you, we’ll have to pay her a visit.”

“The bloodsuckers got you interceptin’ her messages, now?” Jake asked.

“She has been sending her merry, little band all over to hunt down our kind…your kind!” The ghast spat. That nigger has to die!”

“Give me the message,” Jake said, unmoved.

“I don’t think so,” the ghast hissed.

“Jake raised his palms before his chest. His hands shifted, changing into a pair of ebon broadswords. “I reckon I’ll have to take it then.”

The trio of ghasts exploded forward. Jake leapt forward to meet them.

Jake’s body shattered into a cloud of miniscule, venomous spiders. Each of the thousands of spiders was armed with a scythe-like claw on each of its eight legs. The spider-cloud washed over the ghasts. A moment later, a reformed Jake landed in front of one of the telegraph machines.

The ghasts fell, their tattered bodies covered with an uncountable number of gashes; the organs of their hosts reduced to liquid by the venom racing through their veins.

Jake rustled through the telegrams until he found the one from Harriet Tubman. “Ms. Tubman found the nest.”

“Where to?” Tara inquired.

“Atlanta.”

****

The sweet-green smell of kudzu permeated the night air. Jake stood high above the ground upon the thick limb of an old oak tree. “Go check it out,” he said, pointing toward a large ranch house an acre away.

“Be back in a bit, lover,” Tara said, blowing him a kiss as she leapt from the limb. She floated toward the house like a feather held aloft in a gentle breeze, landing gracefully at the door of the house. With a quick step, she passed through the closed door as if it was not there.

Jake studied the house. The windows were all covered with a dense, black cloth, preventing any light from getting in or out; a sure sign of a vampire nest.

Tara appeared on the limb. She fanned her hand in front of her nose. “Lord, it smells like the flatulence of a thousand mules in there!”

“Any vampires?” Jake inquired.

“Three,” Tara replied. “It looks like they are getting ready to call it a night.”

“The sun will be up in a couple of hours,” Jake said. “Coffins?”

“No,” Tara answered. “Dirt. The whole house is covered in about two feet of it.”

“These are Old Ones, then,” Jake said. “Good. Kill an Old One and all their progeny die, too.”

Jake leapt from the tree limb. He landed silently below. The hunter knelt at the base of the tree and thrust his hands into the dirt. A moment later, he pulled out a suede sack that was filled with something metallic by the clinking sound of it. “Good old General Tubman,” Jake whispered. “Right where she said it would be.”

Jake tossed the sack over his shoulder and sprinted toward the house. His boots made no sound as they glided across the soft, red, Georgia clay.

Tara floated closely behind him. Upon reaching the house, she stepped through the door. A few seconds later, Jake heard the door’s bolt lock slide back. He tested the door, slowly turning its knob. The door opened.

Jake slipped into the house. He reached into the sack and withdrew a tiny, wedged shape device. The device, constructed of bronze, had a miniscule, amber crystal at its center.

Tara raised her thumb and smiled.

Jake placed the wedge back into the bag and crept forward down the long hallway. He felt something hard beneath the dirt sink under his feet. Iron shackles sprang up around his ankles. Jake transformed into the swarm of spiders to escape, but it was too late. Walls of thick glass sprang up from the floor, slamming into the ceiling with a tremendous thud. Jake was encased in an impenetrable, airtight cube.

The Old Ones stepped out of a room at the end of the hallway and strode toward Jake. Huge grins were spread across their pallid faces, exposing their fangs.

Tara floated toward them.

“I can feel you, darlin’,” the lead Old One – a tall, lean man, with the dress and ruggedness of a cowboy – said. “Well done.”

“Tara?” Jake gasped.

Tara turned her gaze away from Jake and cast her eyes downward.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, son,” the lead Old One said. “You’ve been betrayin’ your kind for a couple of centuries.”

“My kind are the servants of Eshu, charged with keeping the balance between the light and the darkness…between the Natural and the Unnatural, like yourselves,” Jake said. “My kind are the livin’.”

“Living; dead; undead…some of us are hunters; some prey,” the Old One said. “That – and blood – are all that matter.” The Old One stepped closer to the glass. “Where are my manners? In all of this excitement, I neglected to introduce myself. I am Henrick.” Henrick pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “The rather large gentleman behind me is Malloy and the enthralling beauty is Bloody Jane.”

“Let me out of here, so we can all shake hands,” Jake said.

Henrick laughed. “I like you, hunter. It’s a shame you’ll be dead soon. We could have been friends.”

The vampires walked past Jake’s cell toward the door.

Henrick glanced over his shoulder. “We are heading out for a quick bite. Don’t go anywhere.”

The vampires left the house. Their sardonic laughter cleaved the darkness outside and echoed throughout the house.

“How could you do this, Tara?” Jake spat.

“I am sorry, Jake,” Tara replied. “One day, you’ll understand.”

“Just a few days ago, you said you loved me,” Jake said. “You sure as hell have a funny way of showin’ it.”

“I do love you,” Tara cried. “That’s why I’m doing this.”

“You ain’t makin’ no sense at all,” Jake said.

“Soon, you’ll run out of air,” Tara said. “You’ll die; then, you’ll have an eternity to fall in love with me.”

“That’s haint obsession talkin’,” Jake said. “After a while, every haint goes mad. I thought you had it beat. I reckon it just took you a little longer.”

“I am not crazy, Jake!” Tara shouted. “But, love makes us do crazy things.”

“If I die on account of you settin’ me up, do you really think I’m gon’ ever love you?”

“I…I’m not sure,” Tara sighed. I hope that you’ll…”

“I’ll hate you,” Jake said. “But, if you let me out of here, there might be a chance for us.”

“You’re just saying that to convince me to set you free,” Tara said.

Jake stared into Tara’s eyes. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Tara stepped into Jake’s cell. “I don’t know where the release switch is.”

Jake nodded toward his suede sack, which lay at his feet. “Then persuade those bloodsuckers to tell you.”

Tara closed her eyes and stretched her incorporeal fingers toward the sack. For a moment, her fingers became somatic and she grabbed it. A second later, she was, once again, incorporeal, as was the sack and its contents. She walked out of the cube, taking the sack with her.

Tara floated down the hallway and through the door, leaving Jake alone in his cell.

Jake launched a powerful side-kick at one of the walls of the cell. His heel slammed into the glass. Jake’s foot felt as if it had slammed into the side of a mountain. “Magically enhanced,” he mused. Jake sat, cross-legged, on the floor. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, slowing it.

A while later, Tara returned. “It’s done.”

Jake’s opened his eyes. “Did you get all the windows? The roof?”

“I was quite thorough,” she replied.

“Hope so.”

“Tara!” A voice wailed on the other side of the door.

Tara floated to the door. She willed her hand to become corporeal and used it to open the door.

A web of intense light crisscrossed the entrance.

Henrick stood a few yards away from the doorway. Malloy and Bloody Jane stood behind him.

Tara willed herself visible to the vampire’s eyes.

You’ve been a bad girl, Tara,” Henrick said. “What have you done to our house?”

“They’re called Thread Bombs,” Tara replied. Each one releases a thread of light akin to the light of the sun. I planted nearly a thousand around your house to encase it in a web of sunlight.”

“Well, be a dear and turn them off, please,” Henrick said, affecting a warm smile.

“I can’t,” Tara said. “Only Jake can.”

“And why is that?” Henrick asked, struggling to maintain his friendly demeanor.

“Every bomb has to be turned off at the exact same time, or they will explode, blanketing a square mile in their light,” Tara answered. “Jake can become a swarm of spiders and turn off each bomb simultaneously.”

“And how do we know he will do that for us once he is free?” Henrick inquired.

“You don’t,” Tara replied. “But, what choice do you have?” If you set Jake free, he might shut down the web; leave him in that cell to die and you’ll all burn.”

“Quite the fickle one, aren’t you?” Henrick said. “Okay, we’ll bite, so to speak, but know that if you cause the death of three Old Ones and their children, there is nowhere you can run; nowhere you can hide. We will find you…and even a ghost can be destroyed.”

“Duly noted,” Tara said. “Now, where is the switch?”

“In the study,” Henrick replied. “There is a brass statue of a tiger in there. Turn its tail clockwise and the walls will come down.”

“I’ll be right back,” Tara said, vanishing from sight.

“Hurry back, child,” Henrick said, looking skyward. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

A whirring sound rose from beneath Jake. A moment later, the glass walls slid back into the floor.

Jake breathed deeply, welcoming fetid, but cool air into his lungs.

Refreshed, Jake sauntered toward the door.

“We have upheld our end of the bargain,” Henrick said. “Your turn.”

“Bargain?” Jake said. “I don’t bargain with Unnaturals.”

Henrick’s smile faded. “Tara said…”

“Your deal was with Tara,” Jake said, interrupting the Old One. “Not with me.”

Henrick’s eyes turned crimson and his face twisted into a snarl. “Turn off this goddamned web!”

“Nope,” Jake replied, picking dirt from his nails.

“You bastard!” Henrick hissed, baring his fangs.

Malloy and Bloody Jane screamed as sunlight cut through the clouds and seared their flesh.

“Turn it off,” Henrick wailed, his skin turning black where the sun kissed it. “Please!”

“Nope.”

The Old Ones burst into flames. Their chilling screams rending the night sky until their vocal chords were to charred to emit sound.

Within moments, three piles of gray ash lay near the entrance to the house.

Tara materialized beside Jake. “I hope this makes things right between us, lover,”

“Nope,” Jake replied.

“What now, then?” Tara asked.

“We keep killin’ Unnaturals,” Jake answered.

A broad smile spread across the ghost’s pretty face. “So, we’re still partners?”

“For now,” Jake replied. “We make a good team. ‘Sides, huntin’ can be lonely work. But, I promise you, you ever betray me again and you get the sigil.”

“To use a sigil on a ghost, you have to know that ghost’s real name, Jake,” Tara said. “I never told you – or anyone – my real name.”

“Your ex-husband says different,” Jake said.

Tara’s eyes widened and her jaw fell slack. “My ex…?”

“I met a conjurer a few years back by the name of Laveau,” Jake replied. “She channeled your ex-husband, Kayode, and, boy, did he have a story to tell!”

“What did he tell you?” Tara asked.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jake said. This place stinks.”

“Jake, what did he say?” Tara’s voice was shaky. “Jake?”

The corners of Jake’s mouth curled into a slight smile as he stepped through the web and into the welcoming dawn.

For more about the world of Rite of Passage before the release of the movie, check out author Milton Davis’ Rite of Passage: Kiowa Rising Series and the Rite of Passage website.

EXPRESSING THE INEXPRESSIBLE: A Steamfunk Soundtrack!

EXPRESSING THE INEXPRESSIBLE: A Steamfunk Soundtrack!

Carolina Chocolate Drops

Would The Matrix have been a success if its action scenes had been accompanied by a romantic harp and piano score?

Would The Titanic have been a blockbuster if its emotional scenes were driven by a gangster rap score, or even L.L. Cool J’s sugary I need Love?

Of course not.

Music – the type and where it is placed within scenes – can make or break a movie.

One unforgettable scene in Django Unchained is when Django – played by Jamie Foxx –  rides off on horseback, using the horse’s mane as its reins, to save his wife, Broomhilda. The scene’s music score – the moving Who Did That To You, performed by John Legend – enhances the powerful image and evokes strong emotions in the audience. The score is an effective one, forcing us to remember the scene long after we have seen the movie. In the movie Malcolm X, when Malcolm – portrayed by Denzel Washington – heads to the Audobon Ballroom for what is to be his final speech and the place where he is murdered, many in the audience were moved to tears by the scene’s image of a sullen Malcolm walking alone toward his fate and the score – the iconic and powerful A Change is Gonna Come – performed by Sam Cooke.

Music has helped to enhance movie scenes since the era of silent films. The first known use of music in a movie are the silent films of the Lumiere family of Paris, who played the piano at a screening of their films at the Grand Café in Boulevard de Capucines on December 28, 1895. The Lumiere family then presented their films – with the piano score – to audiences in London on February 20, 1896. Within a few months, several London theatres adopted the same approach, drafting orchestras to give live music accompaniment to their movies. Audiences felt more fulfilled and enjoyed the musically enhanced films much more than the previous ghostly silence they experienced in the theatres.

The first movie with its own score was L’Assassinat du Dur de Guise, released in 1908.

Filmmakers came to realize that by toying with our emotions through music, our vision of what we see onscreen is enhanced.

For most, the function of a film’s music is not easily defined. It is part of an audiovisual system that allows spectators to escape. Movies allow audiences to perceive reality in a passive framework and a movie’s music provides a reconstruction of old experiences and a proposal of new ones.

A film’s score helps far-fetched ideas to become plausible. Alien abductions, serial murders and love affairs in the White House are not usually associated with our everyday experiences, so how does cinema extrapolate such experiences so realistically? Music plays an important role as it provides a rhythmic beat that enable the audience to measure internally the psychological time of the film, relating it to the basic sensation of real time.

Furthermore, the relative time passed between events on screen can be expressed through the music. A narrative that spans decades can logically take place within a ninety minute film because the music in the movie helps us to experience the sensation and speed of time and recreates our sense of reality.

A film’s score constantly alerts us to the feelings that are congruent with what we see – the worlds on the silver screen are, indeed, emotionally perspicuous.

This concept is well illustrated by the classic martial arts masterpiece, Drunken Master 2, directed by Lau Kar-Leung and Jackie Chan. The use of music in the final fight scene allows the viewer to achieve a comprehension beyond that of real life experience. The depressed, drunken state of the hero, Wong Fei Hung, is portrayed brilliantly by Jackie Chan. At the same time, the aggression and power felt by Wong Fei Hung is illustrated by synchronizing each strike with a driving beat and erratic string instruments and horns. By combining an audible expression of emotion with a visual one, this scene allows the viewer to experience two emotions simultaneously – an effect that is impossible in everyday life.

Not only does music function in allowing the virtual replication of time, it also allows events on screen to achieve clarity beyond that of our everyday experiences.

Through music, the spectator is engaged beyond the visual action into a realm consisting of unconscious emotional receptions. After all, the best film scores are heard at a subconscious level.

Music organizes and dredges memory, invoking something akin to a feedback system. The repetition of musical experience creates a residual psychic structure that becomes archetypal.

A film’s score can convey a wide range of emotions – afraid; happy; sad; romantic; angry –because it involves the coordination of two different symbol systems – music and movies – two symbol systems in a complementary relationship; each system supplying something that the other system lacks, or, at least, does not possess with the same degree of effectiveness that the other system does.

By listening to the music and by employing a comparison between pre-experienced musical idioms (usually unconsciously), the audience can engage contextually with the experience being offered through the film.

Music can use its timeless quality to increase audience understanding and to enhance the effect of a film by serving as a kind of binding veneer that holds the film together.

Music creates tension by setting up anticipations and prolonging their resolution.

Rhythm and intonation also play a part in the emotional effect a score has on its audience. Rhythms familiar to a culture and regularity of rhythm will have a soothing, safe effect on an audience.

In contrast, sudden tempo changes jolt our perceived notions of rhythm and make us feel uneasy.

Lookin’ For the Perfect Beat…through Brass Goggles

In the Steamfunk feature film, Rite of Passage, the score will feature what Director, Balogun Ojetade and Producer, Milton Davis have dubbed “Steamfunk Music” – a combination of Funk, Hip-Hop and Southern U.S. Folk Music.

Now, before you blow a cog, let me remind you that, as Joshua Pfeiffer, founder of the Steampunk band Vernian Process, and co-founder of the Steampunk-centric record label/collective Gilded Age Records, says – “There is no defining element to Steampunk music. Steampunk music is different to every individual’s interpretation of it.”

Right on, Josh!

Mr. Pfeiffer goes on to say – “The only true definition (of Steampunk) could be – ‘Music created by Steampunk fans, or music that Steampunk fans find invokes the atmosphere they expect from a Steampunk setting or aesthetic’. Steampunk music, as I see it, more often than not consists of a mixture of genres; usually a mixture of genres from various periods in music history; be it Ragtime with Punk Rock, Industrial and Neo-Classical, Chamber music and Electronica, Swing and Hip-Hop, or any other variety of combinations. The only constant element that must be present is some form of vintage – 19th or early 20th Century – musical influence.”

Some of you may shrug and say “Fine by me; hell, I don’t know exactly what funk is anyway.” Well, let me explain…

What is Funk?

Bootsy Collins

Funk is a very distinct style of music based on R&B, soul and jazz which is characterized by a strong bassline – often in the percussive “slap bass” style of Larry Graham (originally of Sly & the Family Stone), complex rhythms and a simple song structure.

The name “Funk” originated in the 1950s, when “funk” and “funky” were used increasingly as adjectives in the context of soul music — the meaning being transformed from the original one of a strong, pungent odor to a strong, distinctive groove.

Funk de-emphasizes melody and harmony and brings a strong rhythmic groove of electric bass and drums to the foreground. Funk songs are often based on an extended vamp on a single chord, distinguishing it from R&B and soul songs, which are centered on chord progressions.

Funk typically consists of a complex groove with rhythm instruments such as electric guitar, electric bass, Hammond organ, and drums playing interlocking rhythms. Funk bands sometimes have a horn section of several saxophones, trumpets, and in some cases, a trombone, which plays rhythmic “hits”.

In early jam sessions, musicians would encourage each other to “get down” by telling one another, “Now, put some stank on it!” At least as early as 1907, jazz songs carried titles such as Funky Butt.

Some of the best known and most skillful soloists in funk have jazz backgrounds. Trombonist Fred Wesley and saxophonist Maceo Parker are among the most notable musicians in the funk music genre – both of them working with funk maestros, James Brown, George Clinton and Prince.

Now, I am willing to bet that you know what Hip-Hop is…even you die-hard, Maine born and bred Caucasian Steampunks out there. Why? Because Hip Hop and Steampunk are cut from the same cloth.

Oh, that cog is about to pop, now!

Don’t believe me that Hip Hop and Steampunk are apples that dangle from the same tree? Disagree? Read on.

What is Hip-Hop?

Hip Hop Artist, T-Pain

Hip Hop is an art form that includes deejaying (mixing, cutting and scratching records); emceeing/rapping; breakdancing; and graffiti art. Hip Hop originated in the South Bronx section of New York City around the mid 1970s.

From a sociological perspective, Hip Hop has been one of the main contributing factors to the curtailing of gang violence, as many adults and youth found Hip Hop effective for channeling their anger and aggression.

Hip Hop caught on because it offered young urban youth a chance to freely express themselves. More importantly, it was an art form accessible to anyone. A member of the Hip Hop community did not need a lot of money or expensive resources to express any of the four elements of Hip Hop. A member of the movement did not have to invest in lessons or anything like that.

Hip Hop also became popular because it offered diverse and unlimited challenges. There were no real set rules, except to be original. Anything was possible. The ultimate goal was to be perceived as being “def” (“good”) by one’s peers.

Finally, Hip Hop, because of its inclusive aspects, allowed its members to accurately and efficiently inject their personality.

No two people expressed Hip Hop the same, even when mixing the same record, reciting the same rhyme or dancing to the same beat.

The Hip Hop movement continues to be popular among today’s youth for the same reasons urban youth were drawn to it in the early days – it is an accessible form of self expression capable of eliciting positive affirmation from one’s peers.

Throughout history, music, art, dance and literature originating from America’s Black communities has always had an accompanying subculture reflective of the political, social and economic conditions of the time. Hip Hop is no different.

Hip hop is a lifestyle with its own language, style of dress, music and mindset that is continuously evolving.

Defining Characteristics of Hip Hop

Defining characteristics of Hip Hop include:

Most members of the movement take on a nom de plume and many even assume an alter-ego.

Most members of the movement wear fashions readily identifiable with Hip Hop.

Resistance to a hierarchical, oppressive society.

Resistance to mainstream, “industry” representations of the culture.

A literary (rap; spoken word), visual art (graffiti; fashion), musical (deejaying) and dance (breakdancing; krumping) component.

Blends future and past (cave drawings with drawing on walls and trains; ancient African martial arts with modern dance moves; ancient African rhythms with contemporary music).

Uses creativity and innovation to solve problems and to challenge limits. A do-it-yourself attitude.

Defining Characteristics of Steampunk

Now, let’s compare the defining characteristics of Hip Hop with those of Steampunk:

Most members of the movement take on a nom de plume and many even assume an alter ego.

Nearly all members of the movement wear fashions readily identifiable with Steampunk.

Resistance to hierarchical society; often attempts to resist oppressive, imperialistic society by ignoring its existence or by rewriting and redefining history.

Resistance to mainstream, “industry” representations of the culture.

A literary, visual art and musical component.

Blends future and past (anachronism; retrofuturism).

Uses creativity and innovation to solve problems and to challenge limits. A do-it-yourself attitude.

Sound familiar?

Hip Hop and Steampunk bear strong resemblances to one another and both have their origins in resistance to an establishment that begs for escape or rebellion.

For many “Hip Hop Heads” (aka “B-Boys” or “B-Girls”) – what those heavily immersed in the Hip Hop culture are often called – Steampunk provides an attractive aesthetic due to its similarities in attitudes and its differences in style. The gadgets are especially attractive and new to Hip Hop Heads and sightings of Steampunked turntables and headphones are bound to happen soon.

The members of the Hip Hop culture, always seeking to bring something old to the movement and make it new and cutting edge (remember the marriage of Rock and Hip Hop, ala Run DMC and the Beastie Boys?), are fiercely anachronistic and cannot help but find a kinship with their fellow rebels in Steampunk.

Thus, the rise of Chap Hop in the UK, the emergence of Steampunk MCs (rappers) in the U.S. and mainstream Hip Hop megastars going Steampunk.

For the opening credits for Rite of Passage, we are hoping to get permission to use the song, Snowden’s Jig, by the Grammy Award-winning Carolina Chocolate Drops.

Who are the Carolina Chocolate Drops, you ask?

Read on.

Grammy Award-Winning Band, the Carolina Chocolate Drops

The Carolina Chocolate Drops is an old-time string band from Durham, North Carolina. Their album, Genuine Negro Jig (2010), won the Grammy Award for Best Traditional Folk Album.

Formed in November 2005, following the members’ attendance at the first Black Banjo Gathering, all of the musicians sing and trade instruments including banjo, fiddle, guitar, harmonica, snare drum, bones, jug, and kazoo. The group learned much of their repertoire, which is based on the traditional music of the Piedmont region of North and South Carolina, from the late African American master fiddler, Joe Thompson, although they also perform old-time versions of some modern songs such as Blu Cantrell’s R&B hit Hit ‘em Up Style (Oops!).

The Harlem James Gang

For the closing credits for Rite of Passage, we hope to get permission to use the song Shut it Down by The Harlem James Gang – a throw-back Neo Vaudevillian performance troupe that puts the entertainment factor back into music, combining music, dance, theatre, song and magic into their live show.

The Harlem James Gang mashes up the sounds of the 20s and 30s with hip-hop to create a unique, original and infectious sound sure to have audiences at the end of our film bobbing their heads and dancing in the aisles.

Be sure to reserve your seat for the red carpet premiere of Rite of Passage in February, 2014…and let the movie and its masterful musical score transport you through time and space to the town of Nicodemus.

THE MAKING OF A STEAMFUNK MOVIE, Part 3: Inside the Mind of an Actor

THE MAKING OF A STEAMFUNK MOVIE, Part 3: Inside the Mind of an Actor

Recently, the great character actor, martial artist and fight choreographer, Osceola Thaxton – who plays the physician / scientist / inventor Dr. Walcott in the Steamfunk feature film, Rite of Passage – sent an inquiry about the character: “PEACE FAM! I hope all is well….please, send me some background info on Dr. Walcott.  Is he a mad scientist? Is he crazy at all? What kind of GENIUS is he? What drives him? Money…..power…women? What are his fears…his passions?

Oh, and does he speak proper English?”

Why so many questions? Why not just learn his lines, show up on the set and “act”?

From the perspective of someone who has never acted before, or from someone who has only done a school play, acting probably seems like an endeavor in which all you have to do is memorize lines.

To this effect, the way in which actors engage with material – by thinking about characterization, intention and the subtext underneath their lines – increases their memory for the material. It is by thinking about the meaning behind the words, rather than just the words themselves, that actors are able to memorize long scenes and entire plays.

This approach can help individuals, including elderly adults, who have never had an acting lesson increase their memories. So, the next time you need to memorize a speech, think about why you are speaking each sentence, in addition to just what words need to come out in what order.

An actor’s role (pun intended), however, goes far beyond just memorizing lines.

Actors are in charge of creating a character from words on a page. To achieve this daunting task, first the actors have to figure out what the character wants – the goals and objectives that must be achieved within the context of the play, movie, or television program. Often a script is only the bare bones of the character’s objectives – the lines the character will say, and the lines that others will say in response. From these bones the actor creates a skeleton of characterization – a frame upon which his or her character is built.

There is a trio of critical psychological skills that help an actor create such a skeleton: theory of mind, empathy, and emotion regulation.

Theory of Mind

The ability to understand what others are thinking, feeling, believing, and desiring. Infants seem to have a preliminary theory of mind and children are able to fully understand the beliefs and desires of others by three years of age. The ability to read another’s intentions and desires varies as a function of our relationship with that person, our own attention, and the degree to which we are trained to do so. Actors, psychologists and individuals who read a lot of fiction normally have highly developed Theory of Mind skills.

Empathy

Refers to a feeling we get that is appropriate and emotional in response to someone else’s emotion. This can mean being happy that your best friend is having a baby, or anger when that same friend’s now teenaged daughter stays out all night with her loser boyfriend. The use of empathy in acting is somewhat controversial – some actors think they must feel all of their character’s emotions – that they that must really feel sad, angry, or in love if you are to portray that emotion correctly. Other actors think that all that feeling gets in the way of acting, and that physical portrayal of an emotion will be enough to get it across to the audience and create a realistic portrayal and then there are those actors who will switch between both methods, depending on their personal mood and the needs of the performance.

Emotion Regulation

An actor’s control of his or her own emotions and the replacement of them with the emotions of the character.

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Denzel Washington in “The Book of Eli”

Most of the methods used by an actor, however, are unconscious. Too deep of a conscious analysis of character by an actor can be detrimental. Stellar actor Denzel Washington does extensive preparation and uses physical reminders in order to masterfully play his roles. However, when it comes to the moments of actually acting, of creating that character’s words and actions while the camera rolls, Mr. Washington has no idea how he is going to bring the character to life; he just does it. In fact, Mr. Washington believes that analyzing the character too deeply might make his grasp on the character go away. He has, instead, learned to just trust himself.

Acting is difficult. Ask any director or actor. There seems to be a delicate balance between overt preparation and unconscious performance. Bad performances are often criticized as being “self conscious” – the actor was aware of what she was doing, or aware of the character’s faults, and could not help projecting them as she played the character.

Our behavior is changed by all sorts of unconscious processes, motivations, and influences that we don’t even notice. And these influences can be manipulated extremely easily. In a classic study, John Bargh, a psychologist at Yale University, primed students with words relating to old age.

After rearranging lists of words into sensible sentences, the subjects – all New York University undergraduates – were told that the experiment was about language ability. It was not. In fact, the real test began once the subject exited the room. In the hallway was a graduate student with a stopwatch hidden beneath her coat. She pretended to wait for a meeting but was really working with the researchers. The grad student timed how long it took the test subjects to walk from the doorway to a strip of silver tape a little more than 30 feet down the hall.

The words the subjects were asked to rearrange were not random, although they seemed to be. They were words such as “bingo,” “retirement,” “Florida,”, “wrinkles,” “bitter” and “alone.”

Reading the list, you can envision a stooped, elderly person shuffling about a tiny studio apartment that reeks of mothballs, hissing curses at the television.

A control group unscrambled words that evoked no theme. When the walking times of the two groups were compared, the Florida-retirement-bingo-alone subjects walked, on average, much slower than the control group.

Words on a page made them act old.

Bargh and his associates conducted another similar experiment in which they tested Caucasian and Asian subjects to see if they were more hostile when primed with an African-American’s face. They were.

In a third experiment, the subjects were primed with rude words to see if those words would make them more likely to interrupt a conversation. They did.

Currently, Dr. Bargh’s work is showing surprising findings about unconscious priming of behavior and attitudes, such as how holding a warm cup of coffee can make you feel socially closer to those around you – no wonder most of my meetings are held at Starbucks.

So, tell me your thoughts – is acting intuitive? Can the author of the screenplay, play or teleplay use certain words to put an actor into character? Or, does preparation enable actors to “forget” themselves when in the moment of acting?  Does it matter whether you have “preexisting talent”? Or is training and preparation more important?

Your feedback – as always – is welcome and encouraged.

THE THIN LINE: The Root of Steamfunk, Steampunk and Sword & Soul

THE THIN LINE: The Root of Steamfunk, Steampunk and Sword & Soul

Ghetto Bird: Steamfunk Persona of Bryant O’Hara

Creativity is defined as the process of generating new and original ideas. Creativity is the basic force for all invention, the bringing of a thing from concept to actualization and the determining of unique solutions to problems.

The creative person is marked by traits of originality, nonconformity and high levels of knowledge. When you bring forth a unique and effective solution to a problem; a solution that has not been thought of before in the way you thought of it, you are being creative.

Psychologists have tried to explain creativity with many theories. Among these are cognitive (creativity as a process that uses mental constructs and structures), behaviorist (the environmental and associative nature of creative ideas), psychoanalytic (creativity as a mental or personality disturbance), social (creativity as developed by schools and family) and personality (the possession – and manifestation – of personal creative traits).

Creativity is believed by many to be the ability to solve issues and find solutions by “accident” – while you’re trying out several methods, the best method or a solution to your issue arises out of “nowhere” and “by chance”, you discover something totally unique.

As a person who does not believe in coincidence or happenstance, I would suggest that the creative process is more a discovery of new relations between older known concepts and methodologies – using common things in uncommon ways – thus, the more experienced you are in a particular subject area, the more likely you are to consider creative solutions. In music, acting and in the indigenous African martial arts, we call this “improvisation”.

Some mistakenly believe the creative process is all about insight, a “sudden flash” – a moment of serendipity or divine intervention. The insight seems like a “sudden flash” because thought travels at a speed of twenty-four billion miles per second – you have accessed your experience at over one-hundred thousand times the speed of light, so of course it seems “sudden”, or as if the Creator hurled the idea down from heaven and deposited it in your head (would the creator, overseer, mother and father of every single organism in the multiverse have the time, or the inclination, to do such a thing?).

Is the speed of thought of all humans the same? No. Those who have suffered brain damage or who may have developmental issues – who are often described as “slow” or “delayed”, by the way (now you know why) – may think considerably slower, however, most of us think at close to the same rate.

Why, then, are some more creative than others? Because – as I stated earlier – they have more experiences to draw from…and because they have a creative personality.

Yes, there is a well-defined creative personality. Highly creative individuals and geniuses have marked similar traits and although every human being is creative in one way or the other, some individuals actually develop their creativity to such a high level that they are recognized as creative geniuses. All highly creative individuals possess certain common personality traits.

Complexity

Highly creative people love to challenge themselves with complex situations and problems as this allows them to contemplate several possible solutions on their journey to discovering the best solution.

Flexibility

Highly creative people are open-minded and receptive to new ideas and possibilities; especially those that help them to move beyond traditional modes of thinking.

Confidence

Creative geniuses are confident and possess strong leadership qualities – traits necessary to pioneer new possibilities and guide others along new paths of discovery.

Non-conformity

Highly creative individuals are non-conformists, unconventional and consistently think “outside the box”.

Intuition

Highly creative people are extremely intuitive and often seem to possess the ability to read minds. In actuality, they are simply in tune with – and knowledgeable of – the order of things and are thus able to predict people’s responses to various stimuli.

Sensitivity

Creative geniuses are extremely sensitive, for without a well-developed sensitivity, it is not possible to feel and portray emotions through a creative work. A novelist must feel as his characters feel in order to write characters that feel real to the reader.

Curiosity

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it gives verve to the creative genius. Highly creative people want to discover and learn new things and persistently ask questions, which is the fuel for creative growth.

Knowledge

Highly creative people have a broad and deep general knowledge, which they use in their creative pursuits. Most creative people are knowledgeable in several spheres of interest.

Independence

Marry a creative genius’ leadership qualities to his or her nonconformist personality and you will witness the birth of a person who possesses an intense independence of thought. Creative geniuses commonly move beyond norms and often have a distaste for anything they deem “the mainstream.”

Imagination

The highly creative person commonly engages in world-building and cosplay. Creative people often engage in daydreaming and even if well-grounded, thrive on fantasies.

Criticism

Highly creative people are often extremely critical – of themselves and of others.

Fluency

The highly creative person has a prolific range of ideas.

Egoism

Highly creative individuals are often selfish, possessing a “me first” attitude. Many are narcissists or possess an extreme egoism, although they can be very generous and may not reveal their egoism for social reasons. Many even transcend the Self and work for greater causes and the common good.

Originality

Creative individuals have a love for the new and the unique and move beyond established ideas to find something radically different.

Disorder

Most creative geniuses quickly grow bored with order or any predictable course of events – a reason why many creative adults were rebellious as children in school and / or at home. They have a love for disorder, unpredictability and the unknown.

Ambiguity

As individuals for whom freedom of thought and expression is paramount, highly creative people often have a love for the ambiguous – when there are two or more ways to explain a problem.

Motivation

Creative geniuses are often driven by a sense of higher purpose. They are self-aware and enlightened and many believe there is a divine purpose for their existence.

The ‘Thin Line’ Myth

One belief that permeates Black communities throughout the United States – and used to be one of my pet peeves – is that there is the existence of “the Thin Line”. When the discussion of genius comes up among a group of Black people, more often than not, someone will proclaim “You know, there’s a thin line between genius and insanity.” I used to become furious when I heard this because it seemed to be an attack on – and discouragement of – genius. After all, who the hell wants to be insane? Many brilliant and creative Black youth I went to school with would deny their genius or dumb themselves down around others who were not quite as intelligent as them.

Fortunately, the people in my neighborhood – from the gangbangers to the respected business owners – encouraged me to embrace my creativity and intelligence. Even the nicknames they gave me – “Professor”; “Mr. Spock”; “Braniac” – were complimentary of my intelligence and creativity. Once, however, the leader of one of the local gangs decided to give me a warning – “You’re smart as hell, Professor. I love that about you. Stay smart…but don’t get too smart, or you’ll end up in Bobby Wright (a mental health facility in Chicago).” “Why would I end up there?” I inquired. His answer? You guessed it – “Because there’s a thin line between genius and insanity.”

That was not the first time I heard that statement and it certainly would not be the last.

While I grew up rejecting that statement as total male bovine poop (i.e. bulls**t, for those whose thoughts travel at a substantially slower speed than 24 billion miles per second), my study of personality, cognizance and creativity has revealed that highly creative individuals are, indeed, prone to mental disorders. In fact all creative geniuses may be vulnerable to bipolar disorder or schizophrenia and creativity itself is now considered by psychologists to be a sort of neuroticism.

However, even though creative geniuses have a propensity towards mental illness, their creative outlets are powerful tools that help to maintain sanity. Thus, considering the inbuilt defense mechanisms that most Steampunks, Steamfunkateers and other highly creative people have, it is most unlikely that such people would actually go stark raving mad.

Because, in most cases, creative geniuses are not afraid to stretch their minds, thoughts and behavior beyond limits that the less creative can fathom, they are branded as “weird” or “eccentric”. Such brilliant people, however, are extremely strong-minded due to their self-awareness and independence.

In fact, the creative genius exercises his or her creativity and exorcises madness, as he or she continually stretches mental limits to maintain creative pursuits.

So keep up that cosplay…keep on telling those Steamfunk tales…keep killing those orcs, leopard men and oga’koikoi…

Claim your genius…proclaim your brilliance…own your creativity…

Because the mind is a terrible thing to waste.

A STEAMFUNK VIDEO PRIMER!

A STEAMFUNK VIDEO PRIMER

At our first Info Session for the Steamfunk movie Rite of Passage, GA-Tech Professor and an Associate Director of the film, Lisa Yaszek, asked who was familiar with Steamfunk. Three hands – not including those of our crew – went up in the packed room. She then asked who was familiar with Steampunk. Five hands went up.

We then proceeded to give those in attendance a list of books to read and movies to watch to familiarize themselves.

As Lisa defined what Steampunk and Steamfunk are, I realized just how important the making of Rite of Passage is. Steamfunk’s / Steampunk’s do-it-yourself philosophy, reverence for history and its focus on craftsmanship, originality, history and creativity is much needed for the building of a future and for the betterment of the present.

For all of you – and for anyone you know who may struggle with the concept of Steamfunk – I offer below a video primer that defines the subgenre and can serve as a reference for future works. Enjoy!

As always, your feedback is welcome and encouraged!

STEAMFUNK WILD WEST: Black Lawmen and Outlaws in the Age of Steam!

STEAMFUNK WILD WEST: Black Lawmen and Outlaws in the Age of Steam!

 

We continue our League of Extraordinary Black People Series with an in-depth look at those who enforced – and those who gave the finger to – the law and carved a trail of tears, blood and bullets across the Wild West.

Grant Johnson

The son of a Black Chickasaw Freedman father, and a Black Creek Freedman mother, Grant Johnson was born in northern Texas during the Civil War and raised in Indian Territory. This same territory is where Johnson would become renowned as one of the greatest U.S. Deputy Marshals in history.

Serving under Judge Isaac Parker for at least 14 years, his career as a U.S. Deputy Marshal began in 1887. His contribution was invaluable and in high demand as he was well-versed and proficient in the customs and language of the Muskogee Creek nation. Johnson often worked with Bass Reeves, the man considered by many to be the greatest lawman in history. Together, they captured one of the most notorious outlaws in the territory – Abner Brasfield. Johnson also captured the noted counterfeiter, Amos Hill; Choctaw outlaw Chahenegee; the murderers, John Pierce and Bill Davis; the Cherokee outlaw, Columbus Rose; train robber, Wade Chamberlee and dozens of others.

One of the most noted peace officers in the history of the Indian Territory, Judge Isaac C. Parker mentioned him as one of the best deputies that ever worked for his court.

In 1898, Johnson transferred to the Northern District, which was headquartered at Muskogee. For many years, Johnson worked alone, patrolling in and around Eufaula, Creek Nation. He developed one of the best arrest records of any of the deputies that worked the Northern District under Marshal Leo Bennett.

Johnson became a policeman for Eufaula in 1906, primarily patrolling the African American section of town. He died in Eufaula on April 9, 1929.

The Buck Gang

Named for their leader, Rufus Buck – a Black Creek Freedman – the Buck Gang rose to prominence in July of 1895.

The gang had a total of five members – Creek First Nation natives, Sam Sampson and Maoma July and brothers, Lewis and Lucky Davis, who were Creek Freedmen. All of them had been apprehended on minor offenses and served time in the Fort Smith jail prior to their crime spree that summer.

It is rumored that the spree came about as a result of Buck boasting that his “outfit would make a record that would sweep all the other gangs of the territory into insignificance.” However, it is more likely that the spree – driven by Buck’s rage, poverty and desperation – was in response to the horrific and tragic event in which Creeks and Cherokees, along with the escaped slaves who married into those nations, were forced, by the U.S. government, to march over 1,000 miles during the infamous Trail of Tears. Many died along the way and the First Nation and Black people forced to settle in the region dubbed the Indian Territory struggled in that bleak region for fifty years, but finally carved out a decent living for themselves. The government’s attempts to take back that land and give it to Caucasians who now desired to settle in the Southwest was met with outrage, which – in the case of the Buck Gang – became, simply, rage.

On July 28, 1895, the gang shot and killed another Black Deputy U.S. Marshal, John Garrett, near Okmulgee. On their way from that murder, they allegedly abducted and raped a white woman known only as Mrs. Wilson. They killed horse rancher, Gus Chambers when he resisted the gang’s theft of his horses and then robbed a stockman of his clothing and boots, firing a hail of bullets just past his head as he fled naked to safety. Two days later, the gang raped a white woman, Mrs. Rosetta Hansen, while they held her husband at bay with Winchesters.

The gang was finally apprehended, brought to Fort Smith and convicted in a rape trial. The case was appealed to the Supreme Court which upheld the verdict, and the gang died together at the gallows on July 1, 1896.

After Buck’s death, a photograph of his mother was found in his cell. On the back, Buck had written a poem:

I dreamt I was in heaven

Among the angels fair;

I’d near seen none so handsome,

That twine in golden hair;

They looked so neat and sang so sweet

And play’d the golden harp.

I was about to pick an angel out

And take her to my heart;       

But the moment I began to plea

I thought of you my love.

There was none I’d seen so beautifull

On earth or heaven above.

Good by my dear wife and mother

All so my sisters

Rufus Buck
Youse truley”

June 1896

Cherokee Bill

Crawford Goldsby, an Oklahoma outlaw better known as Cherokee Bill, was born at Fort Concho, Texas, on February 8, 1876, the son of St. George and Ellen (Beck) Goldsby. He had three siblings – a sister named Georgia and brothers Luther and Clarence.

Bill’s father – a man of Black, Sioux, Mexican, and Caucasian heritage – was a highly decorated Buffalo Soldier – a Sergeant Major in the 10th U.S. Cavalry; however, because of a fracas in Texas, St. George went AWOL and escaped to Indian Territory (now Oklahoma).

Bill’s mother was reportedly half black, one-fourth white, and one-fourth Cherokee. She had been born in the Cherokee nation, Delaware District. Her parents had been owned as slaves at one time by a Cherokee, Jefferey Beck.

After St. George left his family in Texas, Ellen moved with the all the children to Fort Gibson, Indian Territory, except for Crawford (Bill) – who was too young to travel – whom she left behind in the care of a Black woman, Amanda Foster. Ms. Foster took care of Bill until the age of seven when he moved with his mother to Fort Gibson and then on to Cherokee, Kansas, where he attended Indian school for three years. He then attended the Carlisle Industrial School for Indians in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, for two years.

After leaving school at the age of twelve, he returned to Oklahoma.

His mother remarried when Bill was thirteen. He did not get along well with his new stepfather and started hanging around with a rough crowd, drinking liquor and rebelling against authority.

At fifteen, he went to live with his sister, Georgia, and her husband.

At seventeen, he worked on a ranch where it was said he was well liked by all.

At eighteen, while attending a dance at Fort Gibson, Texas, Crawford shot a man named Jake Lewis twice when Lewis refused to stop beating his own little brother. Crawford then headed for the Creek and Seminole Nations (now Oklahoma) where he met Jim and Bill Cook, a couple of outlaws.

In the summer of 1894, the Cooks and Crawford convinced the owner of a restaurant – a Caucasian woman –  to collect some money due to each of them as a payment share for some Indian land called the Cherokee Strip. The government had bought the land. The woman did as she was told, collecting the money for all three, but upon her return, was followed by a sheriff’s posse trying to catch up with the Cooks. There was a gunfight, ending with a posse member dead, one wounded and Crawford and the Cook brothers in the wind. The owner of the restaurant was questioned about the gunfight and was asked if Crawford was among the group. She replied no, but that among them was “the Cherokee Kid”. This, apparently, was where Crawford gained his nickname.

The famous Cook gang made itself known across the Cherokee and Seminole Nations (in what is now Oklahoma) in July, 1894 with train and bank robberies and murder.

Cherokee Bill murdered at least seven people and may have killed as many as thirteen, later forming his own gang and riding with such well-known outlaws as Henry Starr and Billy the Kid.

With the assistance of acquaintances who hoped to receive part of a $1,500 reward, federal authorities finally captured Cherokee Bill and transported him to the federal district court in Fort Smith, Arkansas. There, he was convicted of murder of an unarmed man who happened to witness Bill’s participation in a robbery and sentenced to hang. After an unsuccessful escape attempt in which he killed a jail guard at Fort Smith, Bill received a second murder conviction.

When the United States Supreme Court rejected his appeal of his first conviction, federal officials hanged him before hundreds of onlookers, on March 17, 1896. When asked if he had any last words, his response was, “I came here to die, not to make a speech.”

After his death, Cherokee Bill’s mother took his body to the Fort Gibson area (Oklahoma), where he was buried.

Bass Reeves

Bass Reeves was born a slave in Arkansas in 1838. His slavemaster, William S. Reeves, moved the household to Paris, Texas in 1846, where he became a prominent politician in the region as well as a farmer. Bass worked as a water boy in the cotton fields of the Reeves farm,  where other enslaved Blacks regaled him with stories of adventure featuring Black heroes

When the Civil War broke out, William Reeves’ son, George, was commissioned as a colonel in the Confederate army and took Bass to war with him. Although he was supposedly George Reeves’ servant, Bass fought in several battles during the conflict. However, after a dispute with George over a card game which led to fisticuffs and the large and powerful Bass opening a can of whoop-ass on the colonel, Bass escaped and fled into the Indian Territory (which we now know as Oklahoma) as a fugitive slave. There, he lived among First Nation peoples from the Creek and Seminole, developing an understanding and appreciation of their languages, cultures and customs. During this time, Bass served in the Union’s first Indian Home Guard regiment under an assumed name.

Bass eventually moved to Arkansas where he acquired property near Van Buren. He met a young woman named Nellie Jennie and in 1870, the two were married and settled into Bass’ farm, where they raised five boys and five girls.

By 1875, however, he had found a new profession – as a U.S. Deputy Marshal, under the direction of Judge Isaac C. Parker. Bass’ family continued to reside in Van Buren during these years.

This change, from farmer to lawman, began the most colorful, noteworthy, and successful careers of all the western frontier marshals. Bass worked in the Parker court at the time of the execution of James Diggs, a notorious criminal, who had been wanted for years. He assisted in the capture of deadly outlaws Bob Dozier and Johnson Jacks and in 1884, he is noted for bringing a caravan load of prisoners from Indian Territory.

Bass served as a Deputy U.S. Marshal in Indian Territory for 32 years and was the only one to serve from Judge Parker’s appointment until Oklahoma’s statehood. He became one of the most successful lawmen in American history, arresting more than 3,000 fugitives. Bass’ work as a Deputy U.S. Marshal ended in 1907 when Oklahoma was granted statehood. He then went on to work for the Muskogee Police Department for two years until he was diagnosed with Bright’s disease. He died on January 12, 1910.

Bass Reeves has been immortalized in literature and in film. We continue this tradition in the Steamfunk movie, Rite of Passage, in which Bass Reeves – one of the guardians of the town of Nicodemus, Kansas – is the possessor of a pair of pistols and a rifle that gives him extraordinary powers and enhances his already formidable skills. Veteran film director and actor, Omar Sean Anderson is tasked with bringing this amazing character to life and you are sure to love how we – and Omar – envision the legendary Bass Reeves.

Following is a complete list of Black Deputy U.S. Marshals who worked in the Ft. Smith, Arkansas region. Their numbers – and their stories – are quite amazing.

Cannon, Rufus
Colbert, Bill
Escoe, Wiley
Factor, Neely
Fortune, Robert
Garrett, John
Jefferson, Edward D.
Johnson, Grant
Joss, John
Love, Robert
Miller, Zeke
Nicks, Crowder
Reeves, Bass
Robinson, Ed
Roebuck, Dick
Rogers, Isaac
Ruth, Jim 
Tucker, Morgan 
Walker, Eugene