>> Thea Austen: We're
really excited
to have this amazing
collection of artists here,
showing their beautiful,
beautiful creations.
Not all of them will be
speaking, but we will have a few
up here, doing presentations
and engaging in a conversation.
And after they do, we'll
also be taking questions
from the audience.
I'm Thea Austen.
I'm the Public Events
Coordinator
for the American
Folklife Center,
and welcome to the American
Folklife Center's Benjamin A.
Botkin Lecture Series.
The Botkin series allows
us to highlight the work
of leading scholars in the
disciplines of folklore,
ethnomusicology, oral
history, and cultural heritage,
while enhancing collections here
at the American Folklife Center.
For the Center and the Library,
the Botkin lectures
form an important facet
of our acquisitions activities.
Each presentation is
videotaped, and becomes part
of the permanent
collections at the Center.
In addition, the Botkin
presentations are later posted
as webcasts on the Library
website, where they're available
for viewing to internet
patrons around the world.
It's fantastic.
So, if you haven't
already done so,
please turn off your cellphones,
so we don't catalog
you cellphone rings
for all eternity.
And today -- oh, let's see.
We don't have everybody
in their seats.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Cynthia.
>> Thea Austen: Yes, Cynthia?
Do we have Cynthia?
And Kibibi.
And who -- you can sit anywhere.
And Paula.
Paula? You're also modest.
I told you.
Okay. Okay.
Now, we have everybody up here.
But I'm going to start
by introducing folklorist
Camila Bryce-Laporte,
who used to be an
American Folklife Center --
Folk Life Specialist, here
at the Library of Congress,
and is now an independent
folklorist, based in Baltimore.
Really? Well, Silver
Springs, Baltimore.
Camila received her B.A. -- yes.
Well, this is Kibibi, who
is based in Baltimore,
and they work together a lot.
Camila received her B.A.
from Sarah Lawrence College
of Fine Arts and Performing
Arts in Humanities -- sorry --
she received her B.A. from Sarah
Lawrence College in Fine Arts,
Performing Arts, and the
Humanities and then worked
in Folklore Studies at
George Washington University
for more than 30 years.
This multi-talented scholar has
worked on children's programming
and cultural and
educational programming
for children's television, the
Children's Television Network,
CBS Cable, the Smithsonian
Institution, and of course,
the Library of Congress.
We have her to thank for
doing the foundational work
with these amazing
artists who are here today,
and for organizing
this wonderful event.
So, please join me
in welcoming her.
[ Applause ]
>> Camila Bryce-Laporte: So,
you met my friends and audience.
Before I got started -- hi,
Luzetta [assumed spelling].
There are a lot of
doll artists in here.
Tonya [assumed spelling] and
Ingrid [assumed spelling],
came probably the furthest.
My good friend and mentor and
sister, Dianne [inaudible].
And some many others here.
I want to thank you
all for coming out
and let me just see
if I can do this.
When I left here -- hi,
Jennifer [assumed spelling] --
when I left here, I guess
it was almost 25 years ago.
We were working on a project.
Ellen Jabour [assumed spelling]
asked me to work on a project
on African-American
sacred music.
And if you remember, Horus
Boyer [assumed spelling],
he was an ethnomusicologist.
Do you remember him?
>> Unidentified Speaker; Yep.
>> Camila Bryce-Laporte:
He once told --
he said, African-American
sacred music
that we know is probably
not the music
that ushered African-Americans
through slavery.
It was something deeper.
And as a first born
girl, a first born girl,
if you're from the Caribbean,
you know what that means:
family and community
comes first,
and your spirituality
comes right there with it.
You're always in touch
with your ancestors.
You're always in
touch with your past.
So, as I immersed myself
in the slave narratives --
because I knew the secrets
to who we were, were there --
I realized that I was
speaking -- I was listening,
not to anonymous voices, but
to the voices of our ancestors.
I couldn't separate from them.
I realized that some of
the struggles that I had
and continue to have, and
the fights that I was having,
they were having, too.
But they had no way out.
They had no way to defend
themselves, so I thought.
And I began doing the research
and found out that women worked
through their crafts
and through the way
of their lifestyle were also
in the movement of resistance.
And one of the big
ways was through crafts
and through what we call,
you know, women's art.
Okay? In their hair, there
were messages of survival.
Right? In their dolls, they
were memories of the past.
It was a lot for me to handle.
I didn't understand
it at the time,
and then I met this
community of doll artists,
and it all began to make sense.
I'm going to read a little bit
and then, you know, talk to you.
The community
of African-American artisans
utilized ancient skills
and innovative technologies,
to create dolls and puppets
that are both whimsical
and starkly serious.
Their creations -- incorporating
play, textiles, wood, glass,
and found objects -- embraced
some of the somber reality
of African-American -- of the
African-American experiences,
the optimism for -- and the
optimism for a boundless future.
Working alone or in groups,
these artisans create dolls
and puppets that articulate
Black beauty, strength, style,
spirituality, and truth.
Their work embodying
older traditions
in innovative vocabularies
for story-telling are designed
to amuse, educate, and heal.
Following in the
African traditions,
African-American dolls
and puppets are more
than decorative playthings.
They are the living expressions
of the artist's values,
traditions, and beliefs.
Some incorporate
African motifs of beauty,
sensuality, and spiritualities.
Others, dressed -- in dress and
proportion reflect creolization,
blended African, European,
and Native American cultures,
values, and traditions.
Some contemporary dolls
marry the characteristics
of androgenous slave
cloth doll styles.
Still others don sassy styles of
contemporary designers, Tonya.
Black doll artists
helm a movement
to reverse the continued
impact of colonization.
Their aim is to transfer --
transform the perception of
Black people and their bodies.
To accomplish this,
Black artists --
the Black doll artists,
physically
and contextually defy
conventional limitations.
For them, there are no rules.
Their dolls celebrate
Black people's gifts
and their accomplishments.
And in the capable
hands of doll artists --
even painful stereotypes like
mammies, babies, pickaninnies
that reflected the paternalistic
relationship between Blacks
and Whites -- are recast,
to show the strength
and resilience of a people.
For these African-American
artisans,
doll-making is a
spiritual, educational,
provocatively empowering
and healing art form.
Doll-making and puppetry
helped them
to discover and reclaim self.
Louis Smith, founder of
Shindana Toys, put it this way:
"We believe only, by learning
to love oneself can one lean --
can one learn to love others."
So, now we're going to
have an interactive forum,
meaning they're going to speak
and you can ask questions,
probably at the end.
My dolls, I'm going to speak --
I'm going to introduce my dolls,
and then I'm going
to introduce --
Deborah Grayson is going to take
other it, because I have asthma,
and I'm going to start
to cough, and I want you
to hear what has to be said.
The dolls that I have
are born of slavery.
They range from the
16th century.
They're based on real
characters that existed
between the 16th century
and the 19th century.
And these are females,
primarily from the Caribbean,
who were part of the
Resistance Movement,
and why did they
need resistance?
What were they resisting?
Linda's -- Deborah's going
to introduce Linda Kato,
and she's going to --
she's going to come up and
explain what the resistance was
about and how deep it was,
what the slavery was about,
from her perspective
and how deep it was.
Okay? Thank you very much.
[ Applause ]
>> Deborah Grayson: So,
when your sister friends
ask you to help, you help.
But just bear with me, because I
am really doing this on the fly.
Okay? So, I'm Deborah
Grayson, and I'm really honored
and privileged to
introduce the artists here,
and there are several artists
in the audience as well,
whom I hope will introduce
themselves, as we move forward.
I'm an independent scholar
myself and an artist.
I brought some of my
piece boxes back there,
and I can talk a little bit more
about that, but I really want
to introduce the folks here.
So, first is Kibibi Ajanku, who
curates and guides the elements
of the Urban Arts
Leadership Fellowship
for the Greater Baltimore
Cultural Alliance,
where she serves as Equity
and Inclusion Director.
Ajanku is also the Urban Arts
Professor for a small cohort
of students at Coppin
State University
and additionally serves
as Community Researcher
for Maryland Institute
College of Art.
Let's see.
Dr. Schroeder Cherry here
is a native Washingtonian --
is now a Baltimore-based artist
and 2019 Sondheim
Competition Finalist,
who captures everyday scenes
of African-American life,
often set in barbershops and
utilizing repurposed materials,
and has a show right
now at City Hall.
Correct?
>> Dr. Schroeder Cherry: Yes.
>> Deborah Grayson: Okay.
Go see it.
These works tend
to have narratives,
but there's no one story,
as viewers bring their own
experience to each piece.
He holds a doctorate
in Museum Education
from Colombia University
and worked previously
for the Institute of
Museums and Library Services,
a federal agency, first as
Deputy Director for Museums,
then as Counselor
to the Director.
And he currently teaches Museum
Studies to graduate students.
Cynthia Sands -- who is shy but
is up here, I'm glad to say,
in collaboration
with [inaudible] --
has created a series of finely
designed and sculpted dolls,
inspired by the traditional
African [inaudible] carvings
and African folklore.
The hand-painted dolls in this
series are uniquely designed
and bring to life the wisdom
of our African ancestors.
Cynthia spent her formative
years in Washington, D.C.,
graduating from Howard
University School
of Fine Arts, in 1971.
Imani Russell --
who's somewhere here.
Oh, there she is.
Thank you -- is the creator
of Indigo's Friends Art Dolls
and notions and owner of
Indigo's Friends Studio
in Brentwood, Maryland.
She's a largely self-taught
dollmaker, designer,
and fiber artist, drawing
on influences from the arts
of her mother and her
maternal grandmother.
Both created hand-stitched
utilitarian quilts
and other wonderful
things from worn clothing,
found objects, and
unusual objects.
She began creating
Indigo's Friends cloth dolls
in the early 1990s.
Paula Whaley began working with
clay as a healing tool in 1992.
She's a sculptor and
traditional dollmaker.
She says, "My work has always
been concerned with the act
of making art, as a
source of healing."
With figurative expression
as her primary focus,
her art is also -- allows
her to connect with others,
who respond to this theme.
"So many aspects of human
experience find ways
into her work," she says.
She is captivated by the
ephemeral nature of life,
the role of jester, and subtle
combinations of elements.
The underlaying spirit within
makes each figure an expression
of deep personal reflection.
Have I missed anyone?
Okay. I'm sorry.
Here. Well, myself too.
Okay. Here we go.
I told you, I'm winging
it, you all.
Francine Haskins is
a dollmaker, painter,
and author of children's books.
Her art reflects
her experiences,
as growing up in Washington,
D.C. Francine is one
of the premier dollmakers
in our country.
Her work as painter,
illustrator,
and multimedia textile
artist has been exhibited
in major institutions
throughout the country,
including the Smithsonian's
Museum
of African-American
History and Culture.
She is trained and supported
countless individuals
in the pursuit of the arts.
And Linda Kato is a member of
the Society for the Sacred Heart
of Jesus, a progressive,
international order
of Catholic nuns, founded
in 1800, with a mission
to make God's love visible
in the world, with a focus
on education, human development,
and promotion of social justice.
She studied dollmaking
with Gwendoline Daniels [assumed
spelling] at Montgomery College
in Maryland and found that
dollmaking is a wonderful medium
in these polarized
times, for engaging people
and conveying important facts
about the world and the ways
that cut across fault lines
of ideology, race, ethnicity,
gender, culture,
socioeconomic class, and age.
Her dolls are accompanied
with the accounts of the lives
of the women they
portray and wear clothing
that carefully replicates
fashions of their time.
The doll she will present is
a tribute to Eliza Nebbit,
the first enslaved person
who was gifted by the Bishop
of New Orleans to her order,
when it was members --
when its members first
arrived in the U.S. in 1818.
Now, I think I've got everybody.
Okay?
>> Unidentified Speaker:
You forgot yourself.
>> Deborah Grayson: Oh, myself.
Yes. It's weird to
introduce yourself.
Well, I'm Deborah Grayson,
and I'm a printmaker, painter,
and dollmaker, born and raised
right here, in Washington,
D.C. Also in Montgomery
County, Maryland.
I hold a B.A. from Maryland and
an M.A. PhD at Michigan State,
where I studied American
Studies.
And the work that I do is
really focused on quiet.
If you haven't read Kevin
Quashie's book, you should.
Sovereignty of Quiet,
I think it's called.
It is very much focused
on interiority.
It's how Black people,
Black women, in particular,
how we interact with
ourselves, kind of outside
of the external gaze of others.
So, that's what my
work is about.
All right?
Thank you.
Okay. So, we're going
to begin with Linda.
>> Linda Kato: Okay.
Forgive me, I'm really short.
Can you hear me?
>> Unidentified Speakers: Yes.
>> Linda Kato: Okay.
All right.
Can you hear me?
Okay. All right.
Is the -- okay, good.
All right.
My name is, again, Linda Kato.
I'm a Catholic nun of
the U.S.-Canada Province
of the Society of
the Sacred Heart.
I am also a doll
artist, who specializes
in making portrait
dolls of women
who had an important impact on
their communities or societies,
often, those whose significance
is not widely known in the West.
I have here a doll that I made
about a year-and-a-half
ago, of Eliza Nebbit.
She was likely a mixed race
slave who was gifted to my order
by the Bishop DuBourg
of New Orleans,
when our Sisters first
arrived from France
to the United States, in 1818.
The doll is based
on a studio portrait
that the nuns commissioned in
the late 1870s or early 1880s,
well after the Emancipation.
She represents for me,
the -- it's a honor --
it's a tribute to the
many enslaved persons,
whose labor helped to found
and expand the institutions
we operated in Louisiana
and then Missouri,
prior to the Civil War.
The use of slave labor is
part and parcel of the history
of the church and of religious
orders of nuns and priests,
who came to the U.S.
prior to the 1820s.
In those days, there was a lot
of anti-Catholic persecution
in the former English
colonies further North, and so,
many landed in Louisiana and in
Missouri, as well as Maryland.
And unfortunately, these
were states that --
where slavery was
firmly entrenched.
In 2016, prior to the --
in preparation for
the 200th anniversary
of my order's founding
in the United States,
the order issued a mandate,
calling for a thorough study
and accounting of our
history of using slave labor,
prior to the Civil War,
in Louisiana and Missouri.
We wanted to identify all the
persons who worked as slaves
on our institutions,
whether we owned them or not.
And then also to contact --
identify and contact any
living descendants of theirs
for the purposes of engagement,
apology, and recompence.
Now, the extensive
-- oh, I'm sorry.
I'm haven't moved forward.
The extensive genealogical
research was conducted
by Sisters Maureen Chicoine
and Sister Irma Dillard,
who are members of my order,
as well as a research
consultant, Emory Webre.
I can talk to you more
about that separately,
but we just don't have time.
How did we become slave owners?
We were co-opted by the
dominant slaveholding culture
of the former French territories
in Louisiana and Missouri.
And we were also
cloistered at the time.
So, here are these foreign
French nuns coming to the area
and who were dependent heavily
on the slaveholding landowners
and clergy, for information
and guidance.
And many of their -- these
were slaveholding landowners,
whose daughters attended
our schools that we operated
in Missouri and Louisiana.
These young women often
entered our order afterwards,
and had the mentality
that slaveholding was part
of nature and God's will.
And they often even brought
slaves from their families,
as part of their inheritances,
when they entered the order.
The numbers of slaves, are
-- that you can see here,
are actually estimates.
We don't have -- you know,
because of the complexity
of the documents,
researching and so forth,
we don't have a complete number.
But this is what we have so far,
and it's based for the period
of 1818 through the --
prior to the Civil War.
And notice that these
are not just --
many of them were
slaves that were --
whose labor was rented to us
or gifted to us or lent to us,
often by parents
in lieu of tuition.
Some were outright purchased,
and I'll go into that
a little bit more.
The rationale for either using
or not using slavery in Missouri
and Louisiana by our nuns
seems to be primarily economic.
As Camila pointed out, there
was considerable resistance
by enslaved persons,
who we utilized.
They -- why would they
bother to work hard?
There was no incentive,
obviously.
And so they resisted vigorously,
and many of them ran away.
We have a lot of records of
breakage of equipment and tools
and so forth that
had to be replaced.
There were slow-downs, work
stoppages and so forth,
to the point that
our foundress --
Mother Philippine Duchesne was
canonized a few years ago --
said that, you know,
she was complaining
that it takes eight adult negros
to do what one French girl
can do in the same time.
So, this is, you know.
And so -- I apologize.
And a very illustrated
example is
of Emmy [assumed
spelling] in Missouri.
She was gifted to us by
the Bishop of St. Louis,
and she was very vocal in
her resistance and threatened
to burn the school down,
burn the convent down,
to kill herself, to kill the
nuns, to kill her husband, etc.,
etc. And so Philippine finally
sold her, and her comment
about it at the time was to say
that her new owner
is very stern,
and likely to be more severe
with her, and therefore,
extract her obedience.
So, when the -- in Missouri,
because there was a --
they were close to the harbor in
St. Louis, and had ready access
to freedmen, as well as Irish
immigrants, who were coming
in from the boatloads
from Ireland,
fleeing English persecution.
They quit using slave labor
early on in the 1820s.
However, if you --
oh, I'm sorry.
If you look at the
map, that the -- the --
sites in Louisiana are far from
New Orleans, and therefore,
they didn't have access
to Irish immigrant labor,
or to a lot of freedmen
in New Orleans.
And so that's where we
have the first record
of buying an enslaved person.
He was Frank Hawkins, who
was purchased for our Academy
of the Sacred Heart in
Grand Coteau in 1823.
I'm going to have to skip that
one, because we don't have time.
If -- the nuns seemed to be
very concerned about complying
with Catholic teaching
concerning slave ownership.
Unlike the English, the --
early on in Latin America,
the Catholic Church
finally acknowledged
that enslaved persons and
indigenous persons had souls,
and therefore, slaveowners did
not have absolute right over --
to control over -- in their
enslaved persons, as was common
in the former English colonies
and U.S. law about slavery.
So, it was really an
incentive for enslaved persons
to seek conversion and baptism
and marriage within the church.
A family unit -- any children
of those unions could not --
the family could
not be separated
and sold separately,
as individuals.
So, and not only
that, but our Sisters
in Louisiana made
a real practice
of trying to reunite families.
So, for example, Frank
Hawkins, he left a wife
and children behind in Maryland,
with his previous owners.
And so they went around -- made
efforts to reunite the family,
purchasing all those
family members.
So, that was one positive thing.
However, and I'll --
there's a lot worse.
But we do see some -- I
just wanted to make sure,
you saw some images of some
of the gorgeous work they did.
For example, Grand Coteau,
in our academy there,
all the buildings
were built by them.
The bricks made by them,
the beautiful carpentry.
These are living testimony to
their wonderful craftmanship.
Never the less, they're -- it's
horrible to say, but they're --
in our records, we have no
moral condemnation ever being
expressed about slavery
as an institution.
They just complained
about whether it was a good
source of labor or not.
And we sold enslaved persons,
whether they were family or not.
We did sell people.
We have -- they never --
there's not a single instance
of them having freed a slave
until they were forced to,
at the end of the Civil War.
And they discouraged and
forbid efforts by slaves,
to try to find ways to
buy their own freedom.
During the Civil War,
they were stolid defenders
of the Confederacy, even
though when the gunboats
of the Union Armies were
already on the river outside
of our school in St.
Michael, and they --
the slaves were fleeing
at this point.
They refused to pay them
the wage recognized by --
you know, that the Union Army
required for their labor.
One positive story is that
Stanislaw [assumed spelling]
and Martin Jackson
[assumed spelling],
who were two brothers, and
John Clem, who were slaves
at St. Michaels, who fled from
them when the Union Army came.
They fled to join
the first colored --
Union colored regiment,
and their records are found
in veterans pension records.
After the Civil War, thanks
goodness, there was --
the order expanded across,
into Canada and well
across the continent, and
the practices were done.
Many of them joined the
Civil Rights protests,
and there were many
women of color
who entered the order
and were welcomed.
It was a very different day.
And this is a photo of
Mothers Green and Kane,
who came with their
students in full habit,
from the art college
outside of Chicago,
marching in the Voter Rights
protests in Selma, Alabama.
The mandate did call for
us to identify and reach
out to living descendants,
which was another big process.
But many of them
were quite happy
to receive the information,
because they had done their
own genealogical research,
and couldn't find
anything, beyond the --
back beyond the 20th century.
We had, in 2018, in September,
a celebration at our school
in Grand Coteau, to -- of
all the descendants of those
who worked there, and it
was quite a celebration.
So many came, and they designed
the mass and all the rituals
of memorials there themselves.
There were many Afro-Caribbean
elements.
And you can see the memorials
that were done at the cemetery.
And finally, there was
a scholarship set up,
100 percent tuition
for students,
African-American students,
to attend this school,
and a mandate for the Sisters to
address our own racist attitudes
and white privilege within
our own organization,
and in our advocacy
around the globe.
I just didn't want to
close without saying --
expressing my heartfelt sorrow,
and apologies for all of you
who are descendants
of enslaved persons.
This was horrific on the part of
my order, to have been involved
and implicit to this degree.
And as a person of color,
I cannot tell you how
horrible I feel about this,
and I'm very grateful for
you, for having me here,
and giving me the opportunity
to share this information.
Thank you very much.
[ Applause ]
>> Deborah Grayson:
Thank you, Linda.
So, the next three
presenters will be talking
about reclaiming identity.
And in order of presentation,
Dr. Schroeder,
Francine Haskins,
and Paula Whaley.
>> Dr. Schroeder
Cherry: Good afternoon.
I'm going to be talking
about my --
I'm going to be speaking about
my work as a puppeteer and also
as a museum educator,
because my --
I operate in the
realm of museums.
Like many puppeteers, I played
with puppets as a child.
I stopped playing with them when
I was in junior high school,
because it wasn't
so cool anymore.
But I picked it up again when
I was in college, in undergrad,
because I had an amazing
sculptor instructor,
Martin [inaudible], who was
making these incredible kites.
And I said, "So, why
are you doing kites?"
And he said, "Well, I'm doing
kites now because I played
with kites when I was a child,
and I want to know how I respond
to them right now, as an adult."
And I thought, "Well, for me,
that would have been puppets.
So, let me find out how
I feel about puppets,
now that I'm an adult."
And one thing lead to another.
I started studying
puppetry in undergrad,
and I landed a position with
a puppet master in Chicago,
and I stayed with him for
two summers, while I worked
at the Art Institute of Chicago.
So, during the daytime, I
was at the Art Institute
of Chicago as a museum educator.
And in the evening, I would go
to this guy's warehouse loft,
up on the fifth floor in an
area where no one was supposed
to be living at that time.
But he did live there,
and that's where his
puppet studio was.
So, I was, in my evenings,
learning puppetry from him.
I took those -- this go back
to the University of Michigan
and that become one
of my minors.
I was doing rod puppets.
This is an example
of a rod puppet.
Later on, I landed a job at the
Anacostia Museum in Washington,
D.C., and I thought --
well, I'm a museum educator.
I'm also a puppeteer.
Let me put these skills to work.
So, I started using
puppetry as a way
to help young children become
interpreters in the museum.
So, this is the Anacostia
Museum's Puppet Theater.
I also experimented with
different forms of puppetry.
I was interested in bunraku,
which is a Japanese form.
So, I had a young lady sculpt or
sew a large doll, essentially.
Now, the thing -- the
distinction between a doll
and a puppet is dolls
are usually
for intimate play
and interaction.
Puppets are a form of a doll,
but their primary
purpose is to perform.
This puppet was Akile
[assumed spelling],
and he did the narration
for the interpretation
of African exhibitions
at the Anacostia Museum.
I had a chance to work with the
Smithsonian Institution exhibits
-- sites, traveling exhibits.
They were putting
together an exhibition
of 360 music sheet covers.
And I thought, this is going
to be really dry and dull.
We have to come up
with something
to make it interesting.
So, they contacted
me, and I said, "Well,
let's come up with a puppet.
His name is Ragtime
[inaudible], and he knows all
of these musicians, and he's
just going to [inaudible].
He's just going to spin
stories about these guys
and connect them with
the sheet music covers.
So, we traveled around.
We started off in Davenport,
Iowa and just traveled
around the country, with
Ragtime [inaudible].
Later in the 80s, I became
interested in African puppetry,
and I thought, I want to find
out what Africans did
with their puppetry.
So, I would go to
primarily West Africa.
So, I would land in a major
city, find a safe hotel,
drop my bags, and I would travel
around the country,
looking for puppets.
This is a puppet from
-- I found it in Dakar.
It's a ram, a ram's head.
The head is made out of wood,
and the Cowrie shells
emulate the wool.
This is an example of a puppet
in African traditional form.
The puppet itself is on top
of the puppeteer's head.
The puppeteer is fully clothed.
And I was really
fascinated with that notion
that the puppeteer is in
full view, but clothed.
I found this puppet in
Guyana-- I'm sorry, in Mali,
and she became one
of my characters
in a fairy tale,
talking about colors.
She's the Color Wizard.
This is another puppet
from Mali.
In traditional African puppetry,
the performances are
usually outdoors,
and sometimes, they're
on the river.
So, I was fascinated
by a performance
that took place on the river.
And if you look at this,
you can see the canoe,
the puppeteers in the canoe.
That structure in the middle
is actually the puppet stage.
So, the puppeteers are
underneath, where the raffia is,
and the puppets would appear
in the back of the animal.
The audience would stand
on the river, and usually,
this is not a performance.
This is preparation
for a performance.
But usually, the
performances are at night.
So, there's even
more magic there,
because all you can see is
the lit canoes in the dark,
and the people are standing
on the banks of the river.
When I was at Studio Museum in
Harlem, I decided we're going
to have another puppet theater,
so we introduced puppets again.
Sometimes, I construct puppets
that are African-influenced.
And this is a raffia-wood
puppet, with a piece
of fabric attached to it.
This is Africa Brown
[assumed spelling] made
out of plastic wood and fiber.
At the time, Mayor Koch
got in on the action.
So, he played with some puppets
at Studio Museum in Harlem.
I want to do something
for adults and museums,
because I thought all of our
programs are just very serious.
I worked at the Getty Museum
in California and later,
at the Baltimore Museum
of Art, and I thought,
I want to do a puppet that
only deals with adults.
So, we came up with Miss
Lilly [assumed spelling].
Miss Lilly is a bona
fide museum docent.
She has a tag.
She only gives tours to adults.
[ Applause ]
She's outside.
You can see her later.
This is Mr. Zeke
[assumed spelling].
Mr. Zeke is a narrator
for a show called Underground
Railroad, Not a Subway.
Again, that was a museum story.
The notion for that came
when I was talking to a group
of high school students in New
York, and I said, "You guys know
about the underground railroad.
Right?" "Yeah, man.
Everybody knows that.
That was a subway to help Black
people get their freedom."
I thought, we have
work to do here.
Okay. So, that's how the
Underground Railroad,
Not a Subway story
become a part,
and I'm using different
forms of puppetry.
Here, I'm using wood cut-outs,
and this is a scene of a cabin
where a runaway boy meets
a White family that's going
to help him get to
the next station.
Sometimes, the performances
are outdoors,
and I was really thrilled to be
able to perform at Oakley Cabin,
which is a historic
space in Maryland.
And I can't tell you
the thrill I had,
having the puppets do
the Underground Railroad,
Not a Subway, right in
front of this cabin.
The audience was outdoors.
This is Mr. Zeke speaking to --
this is the mysterious
Black woman,
who actually shows
up in the story.
I did not make this one.
This is actually a doll, made
by a friend of mine who insists
that she's always a doll.
And I take her dolls
and say, "No.
She's now a puppet."
She's performing.
She's got work.
Another show is about the Harlem
Renaissance, and this is puppet
by Gabby Real [assumed
spelling],
who's a D.J. He's
got a show that talks
about the Harlem Renaissance,
and that story unfolds.
We had an opportunity to
work with the National Air
and Space Museum, when they
were honoring Tuskegee Airmen.
Tevin actually met
the Tuskegee Airmen.
In his presentation, he
deals with young children.
We weren't quite sure who
would show up at a show.
Most of you who work in
libraries and museums,
and you're putting
together a program,
unless you have a
dedicated audience,
you really don't know
who's going to show
up until those doors open.
So, I had to be prepared
for whoever showed up.
Apparently, there
were a lot of kids
who were just learning
the alphabet.
So, Tevin convinced the
audience that he knew how
to draw the letter T.
It took him five times
to learn the letter T,
and the kids said, "No,
that's not the letter
T. That's not a letter.
It's another T," and finally
got the T for Tuskegee.
That's Tuskegee.
I want to go back.
I'm not going back.
Okay. So, in that presentation,
Tevin has a large sack.
It's an African sack, and
it's filled with things.
And he says, "I've got
things that can fly.
I'm going to show you the
things I have that can fly."
And he pulls out a gorilla
and said, "A gorilla can fly."
"No, no, a gorilla can't fly."
"Okay, okay.
I got another thing.
A boat can fly."
"No, no, no, a boat can't fly."
Finally he comes up with a bird.
A bird can fly.
A bird can fly, because
it has wings.
And we were in the National
Air and Space Museum,
so we're surrounded by planes.
Tevin starts talking
about birds and wings.
That transforms into a
conversation about planes
and wings, and we start walking
around the museum and looking
at the actual airplanes
in the spot.
Lately, I've been performing
with other puppeteers
in the Maryland region.
We have puppet slams.
A puppet slam is when you bring
a bunch of puppeteers together.
They each have about eight
to 10 minutes on stage,
and they do whatever
they want to do.
This is Derek Joseph [assumed
spelling] and his daughter,
and they use rod puppets.
Sarah and Olmsted
infuse puppetry
with theatrical infuse puppetry
with theatrical stories.
Crousey [assumed spelling]
is from Silver Springs.
He does work with
younger children.
This is Miss Lilly -- I'm sorry.
This is not Miss Lilly.
I'm sorry.
I apologize.
That's Myopinion
[assumed spelling].
This is Miss Lilly, and when
Miss Lilly is not doing tours
for adults, she's lately
been doing blues songs,
and this particular
song is by Etta James.
It's called If I Can't Sell
It, I will Sit Down Upon It.
You might know that song.
It's about a chair.
Miss Lilly has also
recently done tours
in the African-American
Museum in the Mall.
Here she's talking about
the Harriet Tubman Shawl
that was given to Harriet
Tubman by Queen Victoria.
The museum wanted to
highlight six items
that were in the collection.
So, we did a tour, just
highlighting those objects.
Here she's talking about a Bible
that belonged to Nat Turner.
Two shows that are
going on right now.
This is a show about
the Children's Crusade,
where we're talking
about children
in the Civil Rights Movement.
In this story, D'Andre [assumed
spelling], who is also outside,
is actually narrating the story,
and he's operating other puppets
as he tells the story.
The storyline is he's got
a very strict grandfather.
He finds out one day that
his grandfather went to jail
as a kid, and he really wants to
know the back story about this.
It turns out, his
grandfather was a member
of the Children's Crusade.
So, in the scenes, he's
operating these puppets.
These are wood cut-outs.
And finally, this show is called
How the Sun Came to the Sky,
another show where the puppet
is manipulating other puppets.
And that's it.
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
[ Silence ]
>> Francine Haskins:
I'm Francine Haskins.
And I really don't
-- I feel out --
like a fish out of
water, being here.
I'm a mixed media --
mixed media fiber artist,
and dolls actually
ended up being my forte.
I wrote -- I wrote a
couple of little things
that I have on different quilts.
Finding Francine with
artwork, family, faith, life,
finding out I was not
lost, just hiding.
I'm an introvert, and
I stand up in front
of you speaking because of art.
I see the nvisible.
I hear the inaudible.
I speak the unquestionable.
I am an artist.
I'm a creative force.
I create art with
this little girl.
[ Showing Picture ]
This is me, who stood in corners
and listened to people talk.
Sometimes, I knew when they were
talking, they were talking --
they were just talking.
They weren't getting
information.
But I listened to
my Aunt [inaudible],
my mother's older sister, tell
about stories from her family.
I didn't realize that I was
going to use that later on.
I didn't know what
I was going to do.
I felt like the black sheep.
I didn't fit in.
I was the little
brown skinny girl,
with the little short hair,
little skinny legs, quiet.
I didn't look like
everybody else in the family.
And adults tend to
talk about kids,
thinking they don't hear things.
So, you internalize, and then
you move on, because some days,
you wish, why was I born?
Why was I put here?
Why was I in this family?
And then as you grow, because
you were chosen, to be creative,
to heal others, who you
thought the pasture's green
on the other side of this map.
Usually right where you are is
the -- is what you need to be.
So, in my little -- when
I started after high --
that's is too -- I can
tell you this story.
I told them in the car, with
me walking away from school,
when I was a little girl.
My mother was a school teacher
who had all kinds of honors,
went to Dunbar, went to
Howard on scholarships.
My father didn't graduate.
He didn't finish high school.
He got on the train from Wilson,
North Carolina, going
to New York.
Stopped in D.C.,
crashed a party.
And so, that pretty
brown-skinned little girl
out in the corner, who's my
mother, and they came together.
They were two different
kinds of people,
but came from the same
kinds of backgrounds.
So, when I graduated from high
school, what was I going to do?
I went -- my mother, "What
are you going to do?"
So, she did ask that way.
So, art was something that I
used to -- that I always did,
and I was a daydreamer.
This is one of my
earliest pieces
of art that my mother saved.
[ Showing Picture ]
She -- so, I said art school.
So, I went, applied for
the Corcoran School of Art,
and this is back in the 60s.
Got in on probation.
Didn't realize then, but I
know now, that as an artist,
you can create your own job.
I thought the only way you can
make money as an artist was
to be an advertising
design person.
So, that's what I took.
After Garfinkel's -- four years
after I learned all the
printmaking and all that kind
of stuff, the academic stuff.
I -- along the way you meet
people that are going to end
up showing you the way to go,
where you're going to end up.
I met Percy Martin,
who was working
for [inaudible],
and Adams Morgan.
That was my first job.
After I left there, I
went to Garfinkel's.
For those of who know,
D.C. Garfinkel's was the
foo-foo shi-shi department store
on the corner of 14th and F
that Black people couldn't
really -- couldn't go in.
If they went in, they
had to buy the item.
They couldn't try it on.
So, in 1972, things had
opened up a little bit.
I needed a job, went in
there for Christmas help.
Stayed for 13 years,
which was one
of the best things I ever did,
because Garfinkel's taught
me discipline as an artist.
Because even though I
went through Corcoran,
I didn't believe
I was an artist.
Disciple as an artist
and how to market my work
or tell a story with
merchandise.
Plus, I met the woman
-- I worked with her --
who was to get me
later where I am now.
Worked there for 13 years,
started developing my style.
In the 70s, I got
tired of sending
out white images on notecards.
So, I folded a piece of paper
and drew my image there.
Then I started drawing
African-Americans
in my community, the way I
saw it, not on the surface,
not a white image painted brown.
But I would go deep, and that's
what I tell any artist --
go deep, don't be
on the surface.
Go deep. After I headed
up, I was like here.
it's time for me to go
and step out on faith.
So, May 28, 1985, I quit
my 9:00 to 5:00 job,
and stepped out to be an
artist, and through the times,
I've had two shops in
Adams Morgan, 12th Street,
all making in a costume
museum, children's museum.
Because people start
calling you,
if you're doing the right thing.
Children's book, because someone
saw my art, and I was just --
I walk in faith, because
I live on the edge,
so I have to be faithful.
After Belmont closed, there's
a lot of stuff inbetween.
A lot of these people sitting
up here, we've traveled.
We've cried.
We've done things together.
This is my community.
But my niece helped.
She did -- renovated my
house that I live in,
the house I moved to
from 121 to North East.
I still live in the
family house.
Renovated, and that offered
me a chance to open my house
as my studio, showroom,
have my friends come.
It's open.
My mother was very closed.
I'm open. I'm open.
Fast forward 30 years, my
friend, Amy [assumed spelling]
at Garfinkel's, who I
worked for, was now working
at the National African-American
Museum, History and Culture.
And she called me.
"What kind of dolls
do you have?"
I'm like, "Oh, really?"
I wasn't trying to get in,
because I knew everybody was
trying to get in, you know.
And so now, for the last
three years, four years,
I sell my things
in the museum shop,
and we're working on projects.
And just keep on doing your art.
If you're an artist,
don't be afraid.
Go deep. Get that pain out.
Work with that pain, because
that's what it's there for,
to help you work and move on.
So.
[ Applause ]
>> This is the way I
started with the dolls.
Just a simple pattern,
like a gingerbread doll
with notions and scraps.
This is part of where I've gone.
I see dolls in everything.
I see art in everything.
I don't -- I'm tired
of seeing [inaudible].
This, I have a doll on the
quilt, half doll, half quilt.
But I also deal in --
thought -- provoking?
What's the word?
Whatever. Whatever.
But the issue with
the brown paper bags,
it's called A Brown
Paper Bag Test,
not darker than a brown paper
bag, because that was the test.
My mother went to Dunbar because
she was just on the edge.
Her sisters went to Armstrong,
because they were a little
brown, and this was --
this is how African-Americans
were discriminating
against each other,
in the society.
So, lots of times, I like to
do things, that if you walk by,
you might -- you might
feel bad, and that's good,
because you need to remember.
Okay. That's it.
[ Applause ]
[ Silence ]
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Don't tell me it's me.
Is it me?
[ Applause ]
>> [Paula Whaley]:
Good afternoon,
good morning, to everyone.
Bear with me.
This is my first.
Okay? So, don't stop.
[ Applause ]
First, I would just like to say,
I'm blessed, and I'm grateful
to be in the room with some
of the most incredible
artists on the planet.
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
I became I guess what you
would call a doll artist.
Dolls were not my background.
I came -- I started
fashion, merchandising.
A lot of people get mad at
me, because my teacher --
some of you know who
my teacher was --
and people say, "Are
you serious?"
But I was in an art class,
in Harlem, from Harlem,
New York, on 35th Street area.
The people in here that know
that area, way back before a lot
of you that I know
here was born.
Vander Zee had a
shop on 7th Avenue,
near Small's, the
7th Avenue area.
And as a child -- I'm a
child from nine children.
I'm the last one.
Worked in the Harriet
Beecher Store,
junior high school, on the hill.
And not knowing at the time,
it was a credible Black woman
who became my art teacher.
And that's really why
I went into fashion.
And her name -- well, to
me, it was her first job.
I did not know that.
She was just out of school
-- Faith Ringgold Wallace.
Some of you know who she is.
And that is why I went into
fashion, because she was one
of the most incredible
Black women
that I had ever seen in Harlem.
And between Faith Ringgold
Wallace and peeping
in the window of Vander Zee's
shop, that was it for me.
Okay? So, that's -- my
background was fashion.
Later on, much later in my
life, I did have a fashion line.
I traveled all over.
I did hats.
I had windows at Bloomingdale's.
I worked at B. Altman.
I did all sorts of retailing.
I dressed models, some of
the top models that all
of you probably would know
today -- Iman, all of them.
I dressed and did
coordination for them,
at a place on Rockefeller
Center called Fashion Group.
In '87, I lost my older
brother, who was a father.
He was my father; he was
more than my brother.
He happened to -- he was the
oldest, and I look back now,
because I say to
myself, "My God.
My father died the
same day I was born."
Some of you know it;
some of you don't.
And I would start to imagine,
how does a 19-year-old,
with a mother in the hospital,
giving birth to her last child,
having to bury his father.
So, that's part of the
connection that I had
with my older brother, because
he was much older than me,
and he was like a father.
And one story is funny.
Because my father died on
the same day I was born,
his sister said to my
mother and my brothers,
"You have to name her Mercy,
because she was born
on a merciful day."
So, my brother stepped
in and said "No,
I'm going to name her."
So, thank God, that I'm not
walking around, giving mercy.
He named me Paula Maria
[assumed spelling],
and thank God for that.
I lost my brother, father, in
'87, and it was the first death
that I had ever dealt
with, that kind of pain.
And I didn't think that
I was going to recover.
And I was in Atlanta, and a
young man I did not know --
some of you may know this story.
I think at some point, it
may have been in print.
He stopped me and he
looked at me, and he said,
"You're in great trouble."
He said, "If you want to
stay on the planet," he said,
"put your hands in some clay."
He said, "It will be very
healing and very therapeutic."
And here I stand.
I ended up, early
'90s, Washington,
D.C. in a carriage house,
was starting to make things,
manipulate with this clay.
How gauze came into
it, it just did,
because we know what gauze can
do, as part of the healing, too.
And I was in this carriage
house for quite some time,
and I really didn't think
I was going to make it.
And again, since because
of -- some of you know.
But I remember, I looked back.
Toni Morrison and
Toni [inaudible] came,
and it was dark.
And they looked and they said,
"You have to come out of here.
You have to share this work."
And not long after, that's
when my work really began.
I did do a residency at Kennedy
Center, so I was in D.C.,
Virginia, with workshops,
dealing with mainly
young children.
And as a lot of you know, well,
we know that that was
the crack epidemic.
So, it was very difficult during
that time, because it was more
of nurturing these children.
The art came second.
The nurturing came first.
But what has -- in terms of my
work, I don't have any here.
You've seen it.
My purpose, simply
because I'm standing here,
and I feel that I have
survived up until this point,
that work in the clay has helped
to heal me from that point on.
So, I owe all of you,
and I owe my ancestors,
in terms of honoring them,
every day of my life.
So, before -- when I
get up in the morning,
before I touch clay, okay?
I give thanks.
Okay? Because I'm standing,
and we're all still here.
And I -- there's no
more for me to say.
But basically, that's
my healing.
That's been my healing.
You can look at the work
now, and you can see --
a lot of you know, and she just
brought a piece of my work,
that I can't even believe it.
I didn't even recognize it.
So, I know that there's
a creator,
because I'm standing here,
and some of you know how
the work has evolved.
Joanna [assumed spelling],
here, sitting here,
has so much of my work.
A lot of you do.
And it has been a great healing,
from what I'm told, for others,
and so I'm just happy and
glad that I was able to share,
and hopefully, continue
to do that.
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> Deborah Grayson:
Very powerful,
on what would have been
Toni Morrison's birthday,
if I'm not mistaken,
which is today.
So, the second half
of our presentation is
focused on Afrofuturism.
And first we'll hear from
Cynthia, and then Kibibi.
And then we'll open it up
for questions and discussion.
>> Cynthia Sands: Well,
thank you for having me.
Thank you, Camila, for putting
all of this all together.
And thank you, panel, for
setting up my outline.
I got from you.
I got from you.
I got from you, and
now, I know what to say.
I didn't know what to say,
but hearing all you all,
I'm going to fill
in the missing gaps.
So -- oh, here it is.
These are my ancestors --
negotiating, identity,
restoring community.
And I -- the person in
this photograph that I want
to emphasize is the lady to the
right, Mary [assumed spelling].
Mary was my great-great-great
grandmother, who was a slave.
And going through the
records, finding the will
that was left -- Mary,
her three children,
left after the Civil
War, the plantation,
and finding the will, and
how much they were sold for.
We could find no
other record of Mary.
I think she was the original
person coming to America.
So, I envision a lot about
Mary, walking along the beach
or in the forest, as a
little girl, being captured.
And she stays in my mind, and
she is the reason why, I guess,
I am trying to renegotiate
and restore.
So, this picture
means a lot to me.
It was found in somebody's
family album.
And this man to the -- to the
left was my father's great,
great grandfather, I think.
And I don't see the
names, but I have --
his name is Joe [assumed
spelling],
and there's Amanda
[assumed spelling].
There's -- I can't
remember all the names --
Cleo [assumed spelling].
I knew the woman in
the back with the bow.
She was Aunt Cleo,
and when I met her,
when I was a little
girl, she was real old.
So, I knew that woman.
But anyway, this is
in South Carolina.
I'm from Edgefield,
South Carolina,
home of Dave the Potter.
And I've just recently
went to South Carolina,
to do some research
on Dave the Potter.
Actually, my -- where I used to
go is right around the corner
from where Dave the
Potter did his pots.
I never knew that.
I was there.
I never knew that that was a
very vibrant ceramic pottery
community, until recently.
But anyway -- so,
the next slide.
How do I do this?
Okay. This is a poem, and
I don't really read poems.
I write them, but
I don't read them.
So, you really have
to bear with me.
Time flashes like sharks'
teeth, cutting into black flesh.
Plucked, looted, and ravished
by kings of other lands.
The weather-beaten costal
Kasbahs, white-washed
and bleached Into salt and sun
by centuries of time forgotten,
Black sultans accession
across fertile plains.
Mixing and changing
the complexion
of the Northern intrusion.
Why do your eyes look North?
While your Black mother
reaches for her golden child,
who has forgotten that
once concubine's soul,
whose breasts nurtured a nation.
Transparent and clear, We stand
like totems from the past--
Kush, Songhai, Mali, Aksum,
Civilizations through time
and space superimposed
on ancient temples.
Black icon, edifice, symbols
-- the underpinning of society
and culture, Rest in time and
space, Waiting for the vail
to be lifted, into
the brilliant light.
The Ancestral Spirits stood
guard above our truth.
I know our image will never be
erased from mankind's memory.
We reach into the
inside, pulling out all
of the falsehood, revealing and
contributing to the foundations
on which we exist
in all its glory.
Now, this poem was written when
I was going across from Morocco
across to Europe, and
all the way up to --
and I just saw the changing.
I saw the complexion's changing,
and I saw our images
change, from South to North.
And then I understood that a lot
of the culture actually
were in Africa.
All the foundation was in
Africa, and it went North.
Okay. So, I'm always
interested in the ancestors.
They bother me all the time.
They keep asking me to
do better, to be better.
And so I was at the Cape
Coast Castle in Ghana,
and I had the priest read out
the names of all the ancestors
that my mother and father
and everybody could remember,
And then I took their pictures
through the door of no return.
And here I am, with
some spiritual people,
and I'm holding up
their picture.
[ Showing Picture ]
Okay. This is a picture of how
I feel about being in Africa
with a woman who's carrying
everything, all the loads are
on her head -- her
husband, her babies.
They're sucking her.
They're draining her.
And so I dd a poem to the first
fossil that was found, Lucy,
in Tanzania or Ethiopia.
I won't read that point.
And so this is how
I feel sometimes,
like I'm pushing back.
The world is going to crush
me, and I'm just pushing back,
so that I won't get crushed.
But I'm in a pyramid.
And this is just a
Batik, because I am a --
I'm a textile fiber
artist, first.
And this is my interpretation of
being in a boat, the diaspora,
spinning and spinning, being --
going into the middle passage.
This is a drawing.
I don't want to read
any more portraits.
I have a lot.
[inaudible] So, these
are just -- okay.
These are just images
because I was out of my house
for several years -- two years
-- and I just started drawing
and doing this on the computer.
This leaves little
computer drawings.
That's a little -- now, I was in
Ghana, and I went to a festival,
where the women were being --
this is -- what do you call it?
Initiation Festival, where the
girls were turning into puberty.
And so they had a lot of beads,
and it was very interesting.
Okay. This is the beginning.
I lived in the Congo
for four years.
In 1976, I went to the Congo,
and this is my first art exhibit
in the Congo, the first picture.
That's Uganda, that's an
art exhibit in Uganda.
I'm painting in my apartment
in D.C., and I'm doing some --
I'm a Batik artist,
so I'm doing a Batik.
That's a picture of me in
Dianna [assumed spelling].
I lived in Dianna
and then a picture
in Takoma Park, where
I live now.
And this is my studio
in Takoma Park.
And all -- this is a cut-out.
It's huge, and it's all --
I'm pasting tiny little pieces
of cloth on that painting.
Now, I love to watch artists
paint -- I mean, carve.
So, I'm working with
this guy, [inaudible].
He does the carving for me, and
I -- and I paint the statues,
because I don't like
carving, but I love painting.
So, I take all the work that
I see, you know, old carvings
and stuff that nobody wants,
and I just paint them.
And I was kind of --
this is how I started.
I started with just drawings.
I just reconfigure
the Akuaba doll
because it's a traditional
doll, and Akuaba was a woman
who couldn't bear children.
Ba means doll.
So, she went to a diviner,
and she said, "Please.
I can't have a baby,"
and in Guyana's society,
you have to have children.
This is the [inaudible]
society, You must have a girl.
That fascinated me.
Must have a girl?
Wow. So, they wanted girls.
They wanted a girl child because
it's a matrilineal society.
So, I started with these
drawings, and then I said, "Oh.
These drawings would look good
if I actually painted them.
So, I gave these
designs to a carver.
He came to my house, in my
backyard, and we sat together,
and he carved the dolls.
And for 15 years, I carried
these unpainted dolls around,
white wood.
I just couldn't do it.
I couldn't get to it.
And so one day, my husband left,
and I said, "Oh, I'm so lonely."
So, I painted them all up.
I just painted like -- I painted
like -- when he got home,
he had a whole -- he
had a whole new family.
And so these are the
inspirations of the dolls
that I own and how
I transformed them.
I looked at the doll.
I said, "Okay.
I'm going to make
you like this."
So, this is how --
this is what I --
I love taking traditional things
and bringing it to the future,
or make it more contemporary.
Now, I tried to do cloth dolls.
This is my first attempt.
But I love making fabric,
and so I made the fabric
for all of these pieces.
And I love sticks.
I saw these sticks --
the FuFu pounding sticks.
I loved them.
And so I would see them
and I would buy them all.
He said, "All of them?"
I said, "Yeah, all."
And then I took them
home, and -- kuba cloth.
I love kuba.
I lived in the Congo
for four years,
and I got fascinated
with kuba cloth.
So, what I did was took kuba
designs and incorporated
on the -- on the -- and this
is very difficult to paint.
This is no joke.
Painting those was no joke.
And I love fabric, so I started
a business called Entuma.
Entuma means fabric and
[inaudible], Ashanti language.
So, these are all the
fabrics that I design
in my studio in Ghana.
And I worked with
a team of people,
at least five people
worked with me.
Because that is a very
labor-intensive activity.
Taking the wax out
is no joke, no joke.
And I hope to teach it
here, in D.C., in my studio.
And this is my niece,
who's a beautiful dancer.
She's actually doing a play.
She's in Miami right now.
She's the first wife
of Louis Armstrong,
and I hope it goes to Broadway.
But that's Dionne Figgins.
She's a beautiful dancer.
So, she said, "Aunt
Cynthia, let me come and --
" That's the doll, Camila
that I did in the class.
I can't find it.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
I'll find it.
>> Cynthia Sands:
But this is my niece,
in all the -- she's
in my backyard.
And these are some of
the dresses that a lot
of you all say you
wear these dresses,
and a lot of them have been --
I sold a ton of them
-- market dress.
And now, I'm collaborating
with this man in Morocco,
and I just was in Morocco
for Christmas, and this is --
this is Moulay [assumed
spelling].
He's a fabulous textile
person, home décor specialist,
and he's been making
my clothes for me now.
And there we are, at his house.
That's in -- this is probably
in December, 28th or 29th.
And this is his studio.
He made that jacket for me.
He loves mud cloth, and he used
to do a lot of mud
cloth clothes.
So, when I bought him so
mud cloth, he went crazy.
And there's his top designer.
He's the cutter.
He can cut anything, and
his workshop is just huge.
And there are some
of the coats we made.
And so, okay.
Now, what I did was,
I love adinkra cloth.
So, what I did, is I took the
adinkra concept, finished?
Okay. I took the adinkra
concept and put it
on to -- in a Batik form.
And these are the
stamps that I used.
So, I took that, you know,
and made a boutique out of it.
Now, this is a class
I taught in Ghana,
And these women were very
poor women, living on the edge
of the rainforest in Linden,
which was a town
that did Bulk Side.
Bulk Side industry left.
They needed something to do.
So, this lady I figured was an
European Union asked me to come
and do a class, and
it was fabulous.
These women were
absolutely fabulous.
I love them.
And these are the -- this
is the end of the class.
This is the certificate
that they all got.
But I did that for
like two months.
I'm also a jewelry designer.
I love designing jewelry.
And this is -- I love
watching people work.
So, whenever I to go
a country, I just go
and just watch people work.
Because hands -- just think,
if everybody used their hands.
We wouldn't have guns.
You know? This is my
backyard in Ghana.
I did something -- I
love red and white.
So, these are people
working, and whenever I can,
I just try to learn
as much as I can.
But I can't do this.
The guy told me, he said,
"Madame, you're going to have
to get down -- sit down
and use your feet."
I said, "Oh, no.
I can't do that."
So, I never did really learn how
to tie-dye the way they tie-dye.
This is one of my best friends,
Dukaray [assumed spelling].
He had the most beautiful shop.
The Chinese ruined everything.
Sorry, if there's any Chinese
here -- ruined everything,
so he -- the fabric is cheaper.
You can't get the dyes.
Everything is an import, so
that raises the prices of stuff.
The used clothing
comes into the country.
It's just ruining -- it's
ruining the textile industry
in Africa, which
is really a shame.
Don't send used clothes.
They -- send them a sewing
machine or some money.
This is up in [inaudible].
People working, people
working, people working.
That's it.
[ Applause ]
[ Silence ]
>> Kibibi Ajanku: Greetings.
>> Unidentified Speakers:
Greetings.
>> Kibibi Ajanku: I'll just go.
Shall I jump?
I'll dive.
I am Kibibi Ajanku.
I'm an artist, a
curator, and an educator.
Who I am? I make and present
ethnically charged art.
I'm a fiber artist
who makes dolls.
I'm an activist artist, and
social justice is embodied
in the messaging
of all that I do.
The intersections may seem
like a lot, because many
of you know me as a
performing artist.
Under that umbrella, I --
many people in D.C. know me
out of Corcoran and dancing
in that way, and there are
people that will come up to me
and say, "Well, if you're
not on the stage -- I just --
do I -- oh, that's you.
Right?" Thirty years ago,
I founded a company entitled
Sankofa Dance Theater.
It's based in Baltimore, and --
[ Applause ]
So, while I don't do a whole
lot on the stage anymore,
I still send artists to
do my favorite projects,
and exciting things.
So, there's that.
I curate. I'm the --
the resident curator for
a gallery in Fell's Point.
It's called the Bierman
[assumed spelling] Gallery.
It's in the Frederick
Douglass-Isaac Myers Museum,
that's owned by the
living classrooms there.
It sits right on the water,
and it's actually on the pier
that Frederick Douglas
worked on as a caulker,
owned by a Black
man, Isaac Myers.
So, that's pretty
interesting, to bring all
of these intersections
into that gallery.
I'm an educator.
And under that umbrella, I
lead a fellowship program
for the Greater Baltimore
Cultural Alliance.
I work in the Fine
Arts Department
at Coppin State University,
and I'm part of a fiber --
a natural dye team, in
the Fiber Department
at Maryland Institute
College of Art.
I'm a visual artist, and my
personal project is the thing --
those are the shoulders
that I stand on,
because I can't breathe
if I'm not making.
Right?
RBut although it seems like
a lot, it is the combination,
the sum total of these things,
in concert, all together.
That's the way it's important.
Yeah? So, I make
Afrocentric art dolls.
You'll see a couple of them --
these three actually
are out on the table.
And dolls that take shape in
motion, as a costume designer,
because we're all just dolls.
Right? We're on some
kind of journey,
and we're telling a story.
And in paper.
This is from my Market
Lady series.
And, you know, who are we if we
haven't touched a paper doll?
Right? Kids of today
kind of do it digitally,
but it's the same thing.
They're dressing up
something that's flat.
Right? Paper dolls.
And in mass, this
is a replication.
It is re-activation of a
harvest mass, a dancing mass,
entitled the [inaudible],
that literally springs up out
of the tall grasses, in
the villages of the Gambia
and the villages of Cosa
Mas [assumed spelling],
for the people that
danced the Aconcon.
Right?
And in glass.
Because sometimes when the world
gets frustrating, you just have
to break some glass and put
it on a repurposed window.
Right? And that sometimes
just has to be the story.
Right? But it's still
that messaging.
It's dollmaking.
And in three dimensional
assemblage.
Yes? Because sometimes, it's
got to hang on the walls.
Right? Still repurposed items.
Still, you know, some denim of
today, some indigo from Mali,
some glass from the
Gambia, some -- yeah?
Yeah. Some [inaudible]
from the waste.
Yeah? And in Afrofuturism,
because everything
that ever was a thought for the
past, has a vessel to be here
in existence in real-time today,
as a portal to our tomorrows.
Right? Yeah.
Sometimes, you've just got to
be -- funky fly and, you know,
and do it for tomorrow.
Right? And every dance
that needs a tutu.
[ Laughter ]
And then sometimes, out --
straight out, evolving
of the vat of indigo.
You know, that natural dye
vat, that thing that bubbles.
You know, it's alive.
It bubbles and it does
all kinds of things.
And when you dip the
fabric in and pull it out,
it comes out green, and when
the air hits it, it turns blue.
That's magic in and of itself.
So, sometimes, you've got
to dip the dolls in the vat,
so they can experience
that magic and touch Africa
in whatever way they can, and
there's one, out on my table
that was in the vat, one
of these pair right here.
It's a couple of Obagi twins.
So, in truth, my work
is a convergence.
It's a convergence of
past, present, future.
It's a convergence of
material, of time, of place,
of the African diaspora,
and the worldview,
yeah, coming together.
You throw it in -- you know,
it's like a tasty,
delicious soup.
You just throw it
all in the pot,
and mix it up, and you get me.
[ Laughter ]
So, my passion for fiber
arts and thus, dollmaking,
embodies the thrust
of the movement
of the African diaspora.
As the daughter of
two educators,
my work embodies research,
identity, and the gathering
of elements of the
African retention.
And that's because I hope
to evoke intuitive memories
that reach back into
the ancestral histories,
with storytelling work that
impacts the here and the now.
So, whenever possible,
as long as --
far back as I can
go, I get out here.
Because sometimes,
you've got to go find it,
so that you get inspired, be
inspired in wherever you are,
and hopefully, inspire
some people too,
some people that are younger
than you, some people the same
as you, some people
that are older than you,
some people that look
like you and some people
that don't look like you.
So, from that standpoint, I
have done adinkra printing
on hand-woven country cloth in
Kumasi, Guyana, West Africa.
I was in Cuba, doing
-- doing some work.
I told you you've got to
break some glass sometimes.
So, I was in Cuba, doing
some work that had to do
with found items and creating
mosaic work, mosaic pieces.
But I took some time to
chat it up with some elders
in the marketplace, because
I decided, I'm probably going
to look just like that
in not so long from now.
I just don't have a cigar yet.
Right?
And more recently, last summer
I spent a month in Osogbo,
because that is the birth
place of Europa Indigo.
And I went to just really touch,
practice, commune with work
on traditional Europa Indigo dye
practices, to include an Adera
on -- through batik, and Adera
through the Cassava paste
practices that go back hundreds
of years, and we stand
on the shoulders of that
in our indigo practices today,
but also in our quilt
making legacies.
Who am I? My name is Kibibi.
I make and present
ethnically charged art,
and I am a fiber artist.
I'm an activist artist,
working for social justice.
I stand on the shoulders
of a past, through artistry
that is rich, diverse,
and creative.
It is ancient, while at the same
time, cutting edge, and always,
always, always, ever-changing.
I consider my work to be
a portal that messages
and inspires steps
towards a more balanced
and inclusive way of existence.
Kibibi? Oh, there I am.
Yeah, there I am.
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> Deborah Grayson:
That was wonderful.
[inaudible].
That was wonderful.
Thank you.
So, we're almost at the end
of our time, but we have time
for maybe two questions,
depending on how fast they are.
Anyone have a question, comment?
Do we have -- yeah.
Microphone right here.
Okay.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Brother man,
I so much enjoyed the puppets,
and I don't have a comment.
My question is, when is
the next puppet slam?
In this area?
>> Dr. Schroeder Cherry: I
actually have a date for you.
It is April 4th, in Baltimore,
at a theater called Black
Cherry Puppet Theater.
>> Unidentified Speaker: Okay.
>> Deborah Grayson:
Other questions?
And I was told we have a few
-- a little bit more time.
So, yeah.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Linda -- I'm sorry.
I don't know your last -- I
don't remember your last name.
>> Linda Kato: Yes.
Yes.
>> Unidentified Speaker: You
gave me so much information
that I didn't have,
prior to today.
Do you have a book
or an internet site?
>> Linda Kato; We actually
have a website, the rcj.org.
We can talk afterwards,
because I connect you to it,
with all of our recent research.
We're also going to be posting
all the genealogical research
that was done, for people
who want to use this,
to trace ancestors as well.
I'll be happy to meet with you
afterwards, if that's all right?
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Thank you.
>> Deborah Grayson: Other
questions, comments?
There's one back here.
[ Inaudible Comments ]
>> Unidentified Speaker: You're
part of an exhibit that's
at the Sandy Spring Museum?
>> Linda Kato: Yes.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
And I went by last week
to look at some of the dolls.
You have a doll that features
John Mulholland, who was engaged
in the Civil Rights Movement --
>> Linda Kato: That's
actually our instructor.
Wendy, Gwendolyn
[assumed spellings] --
>> Unidentified Speaker: Okay.
What was your doll?
>> Linda Kato; Mine
were the -- I'm sorry.
My mind is blanking.
Noor Jahan, the Indian --
Mongol Princess, the --
and a couple of others,
in that one container.
But all of our fellow
doll artists here were
at the exhibit.
>> Unidentified Speaker: And how
long will that exhibit be up?
>> Linda Kato: Through
March 1st.
I think that's the last day.
>> Unidentified Speaker: Okay.
Thank you.
>> Linda Kato: Thank you.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
I have a comment.
It was excellent.
Thank you very much.
[ Applause ]
>> Paula Whaley: There's another
doll artist in the audience
that I wanted to talk to,
and it's Imani Russell.
So, Imani Russell's work ties in
with this idea of reclamation,
and reasserting our history.
And I wanted her
to say something.
[ Applause ]
>> Deborah Grayson: Stand up.
Stand. And come, so the
cameras can catch you.
>> Imani Russell: Okay.
Well, good afternoon, everyone.
[inaudible].
So, I create -- first,
let me say that --
-- I'm blessed.
You caught me off-guard,
but I was sitting
over there boo-hooing because
so many of my mentors are here.
They had no idea
they were my mentors.
And about 20 years ago, I
came out as a doll artist.
I didn't know that was a thing.
I was creating these
pieces, and I would --
Francine Haskins that daily
showed up on my radar,
as I was working for the
Department of Commerce,
and I hated those -- the
environment but, you know,
paycheck and health
insurance and, you know.
And so I would go right across
the street, when you could go
up to the monument -- I mean,
the -- what's the obelisk?
The monument.
Which I would go to the
top, and I would sit there,
and I would just stitch.
I would eat my lunch and
just look out on the city,
and then get myself
together, so I can go back
for another four hours.
And I would take
these little pieces,
and I heard about this
lady named Francine,
and she was at 1800 Belmont,
and she didn't know me,
but I would go to her studio,
and I would drop off
pieces, and I would leave.
I didn't really didn't
want to hear criticism,
but I just knew that, she
has something going on.
I said, "Oh, this lady.
She's unbelievable."
Long story short, I started
making because of a friend
who died in California.
Went up to the mountains
with her children.
She was going to a retreat,
and the car flipped over.
She died, and her
babies just were there.
And so I lived in
California for many years,
in Southern California
-- I mean, I'm sorry --
in Sacramento, California.
So, Northern California.
But long story short, I pulled
-- I was living in an apartment
in Arlington, Virginia.
I just -- started gathering
pieces, when I got the news,
and I made this piece.
I didn't cry until the
piece was finished.
And then -- so, that's when
I started making the pieces,
and I was working at
Commerce, long story short.
So then Francine's there, and
my life's kind of sort of.
I read a book called
Sassafrass, Cypress, and Indigo.
I fell in love with
Indigo, my alter ego.
And so that introduced
me to the Gullah culture.
I started doing research
in the Gullah culture.
And then Julie Sands
[assumed spelling],
Daughters of the Dust.
I'm not pronouncing her name.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Dash, Julie Dash.
>> Imani Russell: Thank you.
Daughters of the Dusk.
I said, "I've got to go down
to Buford, South Carolina,
and meet those sisters
down there,
because they're going
to be there."
So, I did that.
I took the bus on purpose.
Drove all the way down, met
the women, and I just said,
"Oh, this is my life."
The rice, the beans,
the islands.
The beauty, the seagrass,
the beautiful grass baskets.
One thing led to another, and
then as things start to unfold,
I found myself in
this community.
Francine, you just don't know.
Francine -- she never
said, "Do it like this."
She said, "Go deep.
Do your thing, just go deep."
And eventually, I
just began to evolve.
I got my confidence up.
Indigo's Friends became a thing.
A woman that I knew, kind of
Roxanne [assumed spelling].
Does anyone know Roxanne?
She used to have -- she used
to -- she had like a -- yeah.
She used to have
this little studio.
>> Unidentified Speaker: Right.
>> Imani Russell: And I started
renting a space from her,
and I started showing my work.
And I'm not really telling you
guys, in sequence, everything.
But overall, I found
this beautiful community.
Then I got the heart to go to
Francine, and I would just --
I just want to sit with you.
Then the next thing you know,
I got this studio for 10 years,
in Brentwood, Maryland.
And I just moved into a
brand new studio, 3807 --
it's called the Portugal
Food Studio [phonetic].
It's in Brentwood,
Maryland, and I've been there.
I'm one of five artists, There's
a beautiful gallery there.
I've been curating
shows there, myself.
So, I'm just -- I'm
still evolving.
The dolls, I love.
And I'm now doing -- my
main thing is just to --
Indigo makes me sit
down and work,
and she also tells
me, don't forget.
You know, stick with
that Southern thing.
Stuff those dolls with beads.
Stuff them with cotton pads.
You know, make them big.
Oh, yeah. Make some quilts.
You know how to make quilts.
Just sit down and
make some quilts.
Don't pay attention to
the patterns and whatnot.
This became a thing.
Then it's the scarfs,
and I do most of my work
from found objects, and
well-loved materials.
I don't buy brand
new stuff anymore.
I just work from that space.
But the fact of the
Gullah, I don't know why --
my parents are from -- both
of my parents were Virginians,
and they were part
of the last --
they were part of the
migration that went to Philly.
So, I was born and
raised in Philly,
but I always had a
connection to the South.
I was one of those girls
that would go outside,
jump Double Dutch barefoot.
I was the girl that
everybody sent the children
to corn row their hair.
Right? I was that girl.
And so I think it's
just a natural evolution
of where I am today.
I just look forward
to the future.
Paula Whaley -- certain
people that touched my heart.
Jerry Hubert [assumed spelling],
Ebay Crowley [assumed spelling],
Ingrid [assumed spelling] and --
>> Unidentified Speaker: Tonya.
Tonya.
>> Imani Russell: Tonya.
I mean, I'm in this
space and, you know,
it's like once you know, you
know, You know, I didn't know
that I was an artist, but
I've always been evolving
as an artist.
I just had no idea that it would
be this medium, and I love it.
Thank you.
I was -- thank you.
>> Unidentified Speakers:
Thank you.
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
Unidentified Speaker: Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> Francine Haskins:
Can I just --
I just want to recognize
Chris Malone,
sitting back in the corner.
He is a -- one of the
few male doll artists.
So, cheers.
Yes.
[ Applause ]
>> Chris Malone: No, I
don't want to come up.
But it's all been said, and
it's all from the heart.
It's all true.
And a question to the doll
creators and the puppeteer.
After you do -- after
you give birth,
after you do this
creation, what do you feel?
Each of you guys up
there on the panel.
What do you feel?
What do you hear?
What speaks to you?
>> Francine Haskins: Well,
I leaned to let it go,
because it's -- I'm
making it for me.
I mean, I'm making it
with whatever energy,
whatever issues I have, but
there are other people out there
that have the same,
and it's always good
to hear people tell me how
they feel, when they come home
from a hard day of 9:00
to 5:00 and come in
and look at my pieces.
So, you're giving birth, and you
put -- you get them off the tit,
as they say, and you put
them out there in the world,
so they can keep multiplying.
And then you go forward.
You go higher.
You just keep going.
>> Dr. Schroeder
Cherry: That's good.
As a puppeteer, when I'm --
after I finished birthing
a puppet, it actually takes
on its own personality,
and I learn who it is.
So, Myopinion is very
different from Miss Lilly,
who's very different
from D'Andre,
who's very different
from Gabby Real.
They all have these
different characters,
and they're all different from
Smooth Earl [assumed spelling].
And because their purpose is
to perform, I often get to see
who they are when they're
interacting with other people.
And that's ongoing.
>> Cynthia Sands:
Well, I don't know.
How do I feel?
I feel good about the art.
I feel, you know, I feel like
it could be better all the time.
I feel like I'm searching
to go higher or go deeper
into the art, and have a sense
of longevity -- the art --
you know, it's like --
it should be good all --
like African art is always good.
It's timeless.
So, the thing is, I'm looking
for is that timelessness,
where it relates to so
many different people,
not just one particular group.
So, to so many different people.
So, that's what I look for.
>> Deborah Grayson: Okay.
I [inaudible] to
answer the question.
For me, it's -- I agree with
Francine, it's a release,
but it's always peace.
Yeah. It's always peace.
>> Kibibi Ajanku: I -- like
I said, most people know me
as a performing artist,
as an African dancer,
and what making things --
I started sewing when I
was in elementary school.
So, this whole thing about
making is not new and different,
but surrounding the
performing art is always
about supporting something, an
entity, an energy, a presence,
that wasn't necessarily
defined by me.
People, all of those things.
In my -- in the current
iteration of my practice,
it is about finding -- I'm
knowing myself differently.
I'm digging differently.
And so every time
I do something new,
it is like unlocking a place
and witnessing and diving.
And yes, giving, but also
in a reciprocal kind of way,
that drives me to dive
big and give deeper, more.
Francine says, "Dig Deep,"
I think I've only chipped
the surface of the big deep,
and so I look at
what's around me.
I don't really sell my art.
It's all around me, and it
inspires me to dig deeper
and do whatever the
next thing is.
>> Paula Whaley: I have to
follow Francine and Ms. Greyson.
I find that, when I finish a
piece, I have a sense of peace.
But I still struggle
with releasing my work.
People here know that.
If I'm dealing with
someone who wants a piece,
we're back and forth about it.
And when I'm looking in the
face or the eyes of that person,
and what that piece is
starting to mean to the person,
I'm able to release it.
So, that's what happens with me.
You know that.
That's my answer.
>> Unidentified Speaker: I just
wanted to say, first of all,
I'm looking around this room,
and it's taking me way back.
I see some people I
knew for a long time.
I -- my question is --
and I came in here late.
But before 1800 Belmont,
there was a place
called Wonderful Things.
>> Unidentified Speakers: Yeah.
>> Unidentified Speaker: Yeah.
God rest his soul
-- Vernard Gray.
He became one of the ancestors.
But I wonder if there will ever
be another Wonderful Things,
because I bought some
wonderful little dolls there.
And it would be great
to see a place
where all the artists
could, you know,
put their dolls,
and we can buy them.
>> Francine Haskins:
Probably not,
because everything
runs a course.
We -- when we -- Wonderful
Things, Sun Gallery,
Belmont Art, everything
was created,
because we didn't have images
of ourselves out there.
So, we had to create what you
see now, in the last 30 years.
Now, people can go on the
internet and people are copying.
We did -- we worked from
inside the pain, the lack of,
so it's -- it will probably be
a circle, where they can't --
the younger kids -- people
will have to dig, to find,
like we had to dig and find.
So, we can pass things
on, but they're looking
at it in a different sense.
We needed it to keep
going, to survive.
Some younger people, I find,
look at it is decorations.
They don't go deep, as I said.
They don't know.
The ancestral memory.
You know, that's an
ancestral memory.
That's a blood memory.
That kept us going, so.
> Unidentified Speaker:
Can I just say one thing?
Camila, thank you.
This and Ms. Austen?
Is it Austen?
>> Deborah Grayson:
Where is she?
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Thank you so very much,
but there's faces
that I've seen,
that I never connected
with, and I didn't know
so many people here that
you see their faces.
They come to Francine's
shows in her home.
You have a connection, but
you don't really, really know.
Thank you for doing this.
Thank you for expanding
my intellectual knowledge
about what -- this
world that I'm in.
This is my community, and it
feels -- it's just incredible.
Thank you very much.
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> Camile Bryce-Laporte:
I'm here.
Thea and I are old
-- very old friends.
We started here probably
together.
We did. I think we were
almost 20, 40 something.
But I wanted to thank her, on
behalf of the doll community.
Thank you so much
for bringing us.
And tomorrow is Deborah's
birthday.
So, thank you, Deborah.
Thank you for filling in for me.
[ Applause ]
>> Unidentified Speaker:
Aren't these wonderful people?
>> Camile Bryce-Laporte Yeah,
they're very deep people.
>> Thea Austen: It's an
incredible honor to have all
of you here, not only the
incredible artists here
on the stage, but also the
artists in the audience.
Thank you so much for coming and
for sharing your beautiful souls
and your art and your wisdom.
And I hope that people
will continue to converse
after the official program has
ended, and to go in and look
at the beautiful dolls
on display in both rooms.
Thank you so much
for being here.
[ Applause ]
[ Silence ]