Screening Gallery
This page includes all of the accessible formats available for the works in the screening gallery within Direct Message: Art, Language, and Power.
An Ecstatic Experience includes scenes with a flashing light effect that may affect photosensitive visitors.
Ja'Tovia Gary, An Ecstatic Experience, (2015)
6 minutes, 11 seconds
Transcript
[Electronic beep]
[Music: Journey In Satchidanada, Alice Coltrane ft. Pharoah Sanders]
My mother had twelve of us children and it troubled her in her heart, you know, the way we was treated, and she'd pray every night to her Lord to get her and her children off that place. Well, one day she was ploughing in the field and all of a sudden she let out a big yell and started singing and shouting and whooping and a-hollering and Master Jim came a-running and he says, “What's all this going on out in the field? Do you think I sent you out here just to whoop and yell? No siree. I sent you out here to work, and you better work or I'll put this cowhide across your black back.”
And . . . my mama she— she just smile all over her face and she say, “[Laughs] Lord has showed me the way. I ain't gone grieve no more, no matter how you all done treat me and my children. The Lord has showed me the way, and someday we ain't gone never be slaves no more.” And old Master Jim took that bull whip and started lashing mama across her back. But she didn't say nothing. She just got up and went on back to the field a-singing and a-shouting, “I'm free! I'm free! I'm free! I'm free!”
[Ambient noise]
I decided.
You decided?
Yeah, it was time.
It was time. To—?
To escape, to try to escape and . . . uh . . . that’s what I did. It was a clean escape. No one was hurt. I planned it as well as I could plan it, and that’s all I gotta say about it.
[Ambient noise]
[Singing over sounds of static]
- Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
- He’s trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.
- He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword.
- His truth is marching on.
- Glory, glory hallelujah,
- Glory, glory hallelujah,
- Glory, glory hallelujah,
His truth is marching on.
[Electronic beep]
[End of Audio]
Ephraim Asili, Fluid Frontiers, (2017)
23 minutes
Transcript
[Music with horns and snare drum]
“Harriet Tubman”
- Dark is the face of Harriet,
- Darker still her fate
- Deep in the dark of southern wilds
Deep in the slavers’ hate.
- Fiery the eye of Harriet
- Fiery, dark, and wild;
- Bitter, bleak, and hopeless
Is the bonded child.
- Stand in the fields, Harriet,
- Stand alone and still
- Stand before the Overseer
Mad enough to kill.
- This is slavery, Harriet,
- Bend beneath the lash;
- This is Maryland, Harriet,
Bow to poor white trash.
- You’re a field hand, Harriet,
- Working in the corn;
- You’re a grubber with the hoe
And a slave child born.
- You’re just sixteen, Harriet,
- And never had a beau;
- Your mother’s dead long time ago,
Your daddy you don’t know.
- This piece of iron’s not hot enough
- To kill you with a blow,
- This piece of iron can’t hurt you,
Just let you slaves all know.
- I’m still the overseer,
- Old marster’ll believe my tale;
- I know that he will keep me,
From going to the jail.
- America calling.
- negroes.
- can you dance?
- play foot/baseball?
- nanny?
- cook?
- needed now. negroes
- who can entertain
- ONLY.
- others not
- wanted.
(& are considered extremely dangerous.) .
“For Saundra”
- I wanted to write
- a poem
- that rhymes
- but revolution doesn’t lend
- itself to be-bopping
- then my neighbor
- who thinks i hate
- asked— do you ever write
- tree poems—i like trees
- so i thought
- i’ll write a beautiful green tree poem
- peeked from my window
- to check the image
- noticed that the school yard was covered
- with asphalt
- no green—no trees grow
- in manhattan
- then, well, i thought the sky
- i’ll do a big blue sky poem
- but all the clouds have winged
- low since no-Dick was elected
- so i thought again
- and it occurred to me
- maybe i shouldn’t write
- at all
- but clean my gun
- and check my kerosene supply
- perhaps these are not poetic
- times
at all
- Get up, bleeding Harriet,
- I didn’t hit you hard;
- Get up, bleeding Harriet,
And grease your head with lard.
- Get up, sullen Harriet,
- Get up and bind your head.
Remember this is Maryland .
And I can beat you dead.
- How far is the road to Canada?
- How far do I have to go?
- How far is the road from Maryland
And the hatred that I know?
- I stabbed that overseer;
- I took his rusty knife;
- I killed that overseer;
I took his lowdown life.
For three long years I waited
“a/needed/poem for my salvation”
- Am gonna take me seriously.
- now. have
- taken parents / schoooool / children / friends /
- poets / seriously.
- (have known
- the cracker to be
- SERIOUSLY DANGEROUS)
- have taken day / time /
- nite / time / rhetoric
- seriously and been wounded
by / lovers of slick / blk / rappin .
- (in blker words:
- pimps & jivers)
- am gonna loooook in a
- mirror each time I pass one.
smile at my image
- & say. Yeh sistuh. It ain’t easy.
- but mooooove
- beautifullee on passsst it.
- keep on holden yo / head higher
- cuz yo / besssss is yet to
- coooome.
- am gonna take me seriously.
toooday.
- & study myself.
git a phd in soniasanhezism.
- & dare any motha / fucka
- to be an authority on
- me.
- (cuz i’ll be wounded with sonia / learnin /
- beauty/love and will be dangerous)
- yeh. all
- things considered
- gonna be serious bout
meeeeeee and livvvvve.
[Ambient sound]
[Music]
- Three years I kept my hate,
- Three years before I killed him,
Three years I had to wait.
- Done shook the dust of Maryland
- Clean off my weary feet;
- I’m on my way to Canada
And Freedom’s golden street.
- I’m bound to get to Canada
- Before another week;
- I come through swamps and mountains,
I waded many a creek.
- Now tell my brothers yonder
- That Harriet is free;
- Yes, tell my brothers yonder
No more auction block for me.
[Ambient sound]
- I’m going to recite this poem.
This poem is entitled “Blood Smiles.”
- I remember the time when I could smile
- Smiles of ignorance.
- This was about— years ago.
- Now smiles do not come as easily as they are supposed to.
- My smiles are now fixed and come slowly
- Like the gradual movement of tomatoes
- In a near-empty ketchup bottle
About to be eaten.
[Ambient sound]
- I want to write
- I want to write the songs of my people.
- I want to hear them singing melodies in the dark.
- I want to catch the last floating strains of their sob-torn throats.
- I want to frame their dreams into words; their souls into notes.
- I want to cath their sunshine laughter in a bowl;
- fling dark hands into a darker sky
- and fill them full of stars
- then crush and mix such lights till they become
a mirrored pull of brilliance in the dawn.
[Ambient sound]
[Music]
- Come down from the mountain, Harriet,
- Come down to the valley at night,
- Come down to your weeping people
And be their guiding light.
- Sing Deep Dark River of Jordan,
- Don’t you want to cross over today?
- Sing Deep Wide River of Jordan,
Don’t you want to walk Freedom’s way?
- I stole down in the night time,
- I come back in the day,
- I stole back to my Maryland
To guide the slaves away.
- I met old marster yonder
- A-coming down the road
- And right past me in Maryland
My old marster strode.
[Ambient sound]
- It is a waste of time hating a mirror
- or its reflection
- instead of stopping the hand
- that makes glass with distortions
- slight enough to pass
- unnoticed
- until one day you peer
- into your face
- under a merciless white light
- and the fault in the mirror slaps back
- becoming
- what you think
- is the shape of your error
- and if I am beside that self
- you destroy me or
- if you can see
- the mirror is lying
- you shatter the glass
- choosing another blindness
and slashed helpless hands.
- Because at the same time
- down the street
- a glassmaker is grinning
- turning out new mirrors that lie
- selling us
- new clowns
at cut rate.
[Ambient sound]
- Choose a beautiful song
- In the tradition of our elders’ faith
- Listen to it until the tears come
- Stretch and dance
Your body reflecting the centuries-old spiritual of our people.
- Bathe
- Feel the blessing of cotton on your flesh
- Look for the sun
- Put one foot before the other
- Glory in each single step .
Until the trudging becomes a sprint.
[Music]
- I passed beside my marster
- And covered up my head;
- My marster didn’t know me
I guess he heard I’m dead.
- I wonder if he thought about
- That overseer’s dead;
- I wonder if he figured out
He ought to know this head?
- You better run, brave Harriet,
- There’s ransom on your head;
- You better run, Miss Harriet,
They want you live or dead.
- Been down in valleys yonder
- And searching round the stills,
- They got the posse after you,
A-riding through the hills.
- They got the blood hounds smelling,
- They got their guns cocked to;
- You better run, bold Harriet,
The white man’s after you.
- They got ten thousand dollars
- Put on your coal black head;
- They’ll give ten thousand dollars;
They’re mad because you fled.
- I wager they’ll be riding
- A long, long time for you.
- Yes, Lord, they’ll look a long time
Till Judgment Day is due.
[Drumming]
- Pains of insecurity surround me;
- shined shoes,
- conservative suits,
- button down shirts with silk ties.
bi-weekly payroll.
- Ostracized, but not knowing why;
- executive haircut,
clean shaved,
- “yes” instead of “yeah” and “no” instead of “naw”,
hours, nine-to-five. (after five he’s alone)
- “Doing an excellent job, keep it up;”
- promotion made—semi-monthly payroll,
- very quiet—never talks,
- budget balanced—saved the company money,
- quality work—production tops.
He looks sick. (but there is a smile in his eyes)
- He resigned, we wonder why;
- let his hair grow,—a mustache too,
- out of a job—broke and hungry,
- friends are coming back—bring food,
- not quiet now—trying to speak,
what did he say?
- “Back again,
- BLACK AGAIN,
Home.”
“The Idea of Ancestry,” Part 1
- Taped to the wall of my cell are 47 pictures: 47 black
- faces: my father, mother, grandmothers (1 dead), grand-
- fathers (both dead), brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts,
- cousins (1st & 2nd), nieces, and nephews. They stare
- across the space at me sprawling on my bunk. I know
- their dark eyes, they know mine. I know their style,
- they know mine. I am all of them, they are all of me;
they are farmers, I am a thief, I am me, they are thee.
I have at one time or another been in love with my mother,
- 1 grandmother, 2 sisters, 2 aunts (1 went to the asylum),
- and 5 cousins. I am now in love with a 7-yr-old niece
- (she sends me letters written in large block print, and
her picture is the only one that smiles at me).
- I have the same name as 1 grandfather, 3 cousins, 3 nephews,
- and 1 uncle. The uncle disappeared when he was 15, just took
- off and caught a freight (they say). He’s discussed each year
- when the family has a reunion, he causes uneasiness in
- the clan, he is an empty space. My father’s mother, who is 93
- and who keeps the Family Bible with everybody’s birth dates
- (and death dates) in it, always mentions him. There is no
place in her Bible for “whereabouts unknown.”
[Music]
I heard the mighty trumpet
That sent the land to war;
I mourned for Mister Lincoln
And saw his funeral car.
Come along with Harriet, children,
Come along to Canada.
Come down to the river, children,
And follow the northern star.
I’m Harriet Tubman, people,
I’m Harriet, the slave.
I’m Harriet, free woman,
And I’m free beyond my grave.
Come along to freedom, children,
Come along ten million strong;
Come along with Harriet, children,
Come along ten million strong.
[Ambient sound]
“For Theresa”
- and when i was all alone
- facing my adolescence
- looking forward
- to cleaning house
- and reading books
- and maybe learning bridge
- so that i could fit
- into acceptable society
- acceptably
- you came along
- and loved me
- for being black and b*tchy
- hateful and scared
- and you came along
- and cared that i got
- all the things necessary
- to adulthood
- and even made sure
- i wouldn’t hate
- my mother
- or father
- and you even understood
- that i should love
- peppe
- but not too much
- and give to gary
- but not all of me
and keep on moving
- 'til i found me
- and now you’re sick
- and have been hurt
- for some time
- and i’ve felt guilty
- and impotent
- for not being able
- to give yourself
- to you
- as you gave
- yourself
to me
[Ambient sound]
“Homecoming”
i have been a
way so long
once after college
i returned tourist
style to catch all
the niggers killing
themselves with
three-for-oners
with
needles
that cd
not support
their stutters.
now woman
i have returned
leaving behind me
all those hide and
seek faces peeling
with freudian dreams.
this is for real.
black
niggers
my beauty.
baby.
i have learned it
ain’t like they say
in the newspapers.
“Mother dear, may I go downtown
Instead of out to play,
And march the streets of Birmingham
In a Freedom March today?”
“No, baby, no, you may not go,
For the dogs are fierce and wild,
And clubs and hoses, guns and jails
Aren’t good for a little child.”
“But, mother, I won’t be alone.
Other children will go with me,
And march the streets of Birmingham
To make our country free.”
“No, baby, no, you may not go,
For I fear those guns will fire.
But you may go to church instead
And sing in the children’s choir.”
She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair,
And bathed rose petal sweet,
And drawn white gloves on her small brown hands,
And white shoes on her feet.
The mother smiled to know her child
Was in the sacred place,
But that smile was the last smile
To come upon her face.
For when she heard the explosion,
Her eyes grew wet and wild.
She raced through the streets of Birmingham
Calling for her child.
She clawed through bits of glass and brick,
Then lifted out a shoe.
“O, here’s the shoe my baby wore,
But, baby, where are you?”
[Ambient sound]
[End of Audio]
Transcripts
Below are the transcripts, organized alphabetically for video works featured in Direct Message: Art, Language, and Power.