"How Blak" went off successfully at The Belcourt Theater. we had a really good crowd and everyone was enthusiastic. i had a fabulous stage crew who made every component rock. i did my best to bring it all and leave it all on the stage. when the show was over, i felt beat up, beat down, and beat around.
mission accomplished.
and now to the future. this indepednent lifestyle is a challenge, to say the least. aside from the mundane matters of existence like bills, bills, and more bills, the challeng is to keep growing, keep building for something higher. in the program for the show, i quote Langston Hughes from The Negro Artist and The Racial Mountain (1926):
"We younger Negro artists who create now intend to express our individual, dark-skinned selves without fear or shame. If white people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, it doesn't matter. We know we are beautiful. And ugly too. If colored people are pleased we are glad. If they are not, their displeasure doesn't matter either. We build our temples for tomorrow, strong as we know how, and we stand on the top of the mountain, free within ourselves."
it sums up what keeps me going, when i reach these spaces--gaps if you will--where something major has been accomplished on a mountain of freedom, and i now face a valley where i have to survey which mountain is next--and that is the challenge. for i suppose i am a climber of mountains as well as a weaver of dreams. all artists are. we look at the landscape of reality, and imagine how we can first build, and then conquer mountains on the horizon. why do we do this? is it just for the challenge of accomplishment? does it feed us spiritually to see things in any way but an ordinary one? is it some inherent masochism that is simply woven into the DNA of the artistic soul? apparently, we can't help ourselves, so we may as well attack the task at hand fearlessly.
for when we reach those landings, and we breathe the pure air of accomplishment, the payoff comes. we sigh a sigh of relief and acceptance, and smile around at those who marvel at the sheer gall of our cause. "why in the world did you climb that mountain," they ask from their cubicle of safety and security.
we smile confidently, triumphantly, and think back on all the trials we faced in our quest to rise above the mediocre, to the pinnacle of possibility, and we'll reply, frankly:
because it was there.
