In the circle of artists

I think it was Jimmy Fallon and Jerry Seinfeld, in an episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, who were discussing hanging out with other comedians. I understood immediately what they meant, and I was kind of relieved to see my neurosis wasn't really neurosis after all, just human nature.

Because they weren't talking about just hanging out with comedians, they were talking about only hanging out with comedians. Fallon says something along the lines of really only enjoying things if he is with other comedians. There is a common habit of using humor to see the world, in such a way that only other comedians really get it.

I feel this way about artists. I prefer hanging out with other artists, only. If artists aren't going to be there, I'm not really interested. There is a certain perspective creative types bring to the world that is soothing and intriguing and comforting. I just don't have as much fun if there aren't other artists around. I don't feel as connected to what's happening unless I can exchange a glance and smile with a fellow artist that says, "Did you see that? You saw that, right?" And of course they did. They saw it, they heard it, they imagined the rest of it in a way that only artists do. 

In terms of African dance and music, I've had the privilege and honor of mostly being in the inner circle. Those of us who are obsessed and passionate about traditional African music spend a lot of time with other artists. We go to events in the circle of artists, which allows for an inside view of how things happen. How dances get choreographed and songs get composed. How performances get put together. How weddings and birthdays and other celebrations get infused with spirit and revelry. Any event without music and dancing isn't really complete. 

It is just in these last few months that I've come to understand there is an entirely different view of art and artists. I should have known. I did know, but not in a truly aware way of knowing. So many artists have a similar story- either they are from a long line of artists, or they're not. And if they're not, it's likely they've suffered some serious repercussions for choosing a life of creativity. From physical abuse to being thrown out and disowned, families who are not artist families do not want to "lose" their children to this path. 

Here in Mali, I hear a lot about families who do not want their children to experience drumming or dancing or anything to do with traditional arts. They don't want their children hanging around those people. Others don't mind the drums, but draw a line at the balafon or kora. These are reserved for griot families- the generations tasked with keeping stories. Music and dance are really just about storytelling and keeping history. 

There is no doubt people think these things are important- that's not really the issue. Kings and queens and chiefs of villages need these griots to sing their praises and make sure everyone else realizes their wisdom and importance.  But after that, keep your distance. It becomes something of a caste situation. 

It all translates into a complex relationship between the praiser and the one who is praised. There is power in being the composer of history. It's not so different from Chimamanda Adichie's view in The Danger of a Single Story. Those who write the stories hold the power. And in the case of musical presentation, there is the potential for another kind of power. Music is compelling and hypnotic; music makers are slightly magical. Attractive, mysterious, captivating. Potentially more captivating than the ruler himself. This is where the danger lies. Jealousy and mistrust brew. 

I'm told this is a West African thing, though I hadn't noticed it so much in neighboring countries.  I've been too busy being in awe- surrounded by artists and trying to learn as much as possible- to stop and consider someone might think there is another way to be. That this way should be separate and the music makers kept apart. Or maybe I just enjoy being kept apart. The caste system in this case doesn't really define higher or lower, but just separate.  

I can't imagine any other way to experience things except through art. Through the creative eye. With rhythms of the drums pulsing through you, matching your heartbeat, taking you back to the original birth, the first energy source that connects us all. Maybe that is the scary thing: facing our human connection, facing an intangible energy that is profound and un-knowable. The inner view.  It truly is magical, and life would hardly be bearable without it.

*UPDATE* Here's an article discussing exactly what I was talking about. It's funny how that comes about.

Une Conteuse...

It began in the most normal of ways....with a phone call. I wasn't acquainted with the caller, however, and realizing that my number was somehow "out there" in the world of Kinshasa artists was both pleasing and somewhat disconcerting at the same time. I still am not clear exactly how my cell number fell into the hands of the storyteller, marionettist, painter, illustrator, jewelry maker and all around artist who arranged a meeting with me last week. But so it was one afternoon I found myself welcoming S.Konde, conteur, into my classroom.

He had come to present some slideshows and videos of his work at various programs and schools around Kinshasa in hopes of securing a program at our school. The timing was quite perfect as it landed during the preparations for Congo Week and we soon struck up a deal to offer our students some exposure to wooden beadwork and jewelry making. Just before leaving he asked me if I was a theater person. We'd already discussed my art experiences as a painter and so I mentioned that I was also a dancer. "And what is dance but a performance of stories and expression?" I said. I wasn't sure this totally qualified me as a "theater person" but it seemed like a reasonable response. I have been enjoying offering drama to students as an after school activity and frequently direct my own classes through a variety of performances. But again, this does not qualify me as an actress in any way.  I remained noncommittal.

"I want to present a theater project for you," he told me and promised to send the details. Our next meeting involved me translating for a fellow teacher who wanted to capitalize on his storytelling experience and include it in a project with her 9th graders. As that discussion came to a close, S.Konde presented me with a French book of African tales, some parables and short video clips of other storytellers he had worked with. He told me to choose 2 stories, 1 to be animated and 1 to be told with my accompanying illustrations or paintings.

Apparently he has some performances lined up for December with his theater group and would like me to present with them. He showed me the program, complete with my name followed by the illustrious title of "Conteuse."  Wow.

He has displayed such confidence in my ability (based on what premise I've yet to discover) that I am left feeling flattered and challenged all at once. Of course, I must rise to his expectations. But am I really a storyteller? Of the griot quality? It is not a theatrical performance conducted with the support of a troupe, as I expected, but 20-30 minutes of me holding the stage on my own, a vision that has never once filled my head as a possibility. I keep hearing him remark how he would like to profit from my moment in Kinshasa and work together. And I wonder if I might not like to profit from this moment as well and experience an entirely new form of presentation.

What else to do but seize the moment and follow this path down an unexpected road of entertaining, educating and expressing using, as a medium, pieces of myth and legend and history to awaken consciousness and inspire youth? Perhaps a storyteller will be born.....