Newark I tried to love you even as you didn’t love me…………………..
For the past five or so years, I returned to a the town I lived in for a almost 20 years Newark New Jersey. And threw myself into its art world………….
I moved here about 1992, but I have been teaching in Newark since about 1982.
I taught at the Newark school of fine and industrial art
I taught at community centers and after school programs and more.
I have taught generations of young artist
I know I know
I am really a jersey artist with a gallery in New York, so a lot of what I have done has been based out of New York. But my heart was always hidden in Newark
But this place is where I live, and teach and learn
Having said that…………
.I have watched with horrific fascination the flight of the old school artist. The ones that was here long before me, the ones who were forced out by high rents and the lack of support from a city with other problems
For the last ten years or so, esp. the last five years I have been watching the newbie's,wanna bys should be, can I be………..
Artist come to Newark
Like thief’s amought us
They sneak in at night and use aerosol cans to write on Newark walls
Making legends and names for them selves
Getting nods for their bravery
At coming to a city like Newark and doing this late at night
Then they sneak back to the suburbs crowned with the false bravado s of stealing authenticity from the hood
Its is a old story, one that has been practiced in places like Harlem years and years ago
Now I am watching a completely new breed of artist…………. for lack of a better word
Move into Newark and pretend that they have been here all the time
These are the silent, hipsters, and wanna be's,
It’s a not a race thing
Some are white
Some are black and some are other
And some are real………I think…….maybe……….
The whites all walk around with tattooed forearms
The blacks all walk around with a head full of dreads
Looking at me as if I am a stranger
They make me feel like a Langston Hughes poem
They send me to eat in the kitchen when company comes
Newark Newark
I have watched new galleries spring up all over Newark
Touting the talents of these people
Talent………pretense………….is more like it
A new nightlife has sprung up here in Newark
One that excludes me
A secret society of folks, slumming in Newark
And reaping the rewards of their privileged lives
I mean these folks are given buildings rent-free
They are given galleries, space, and more
Rent-free
In addition, they stand out proudly in front of their spaces
Looking at me as if they have always been here
What am I watching…………………
Its a old story
I am watching a bunch of colonizers; steal the throne of those that have come before them
I am remembering artist like Don Miller, and aleta Cardwell, Charles Russell
, Roy Crosse, ujima, ben, holly, and many many more
Artist who left Newark
Or stayed here, regardless of the benign neglect of a city that can build
Stadiums, but not artist housing……….
The ones that stayed
Alternatively, the ones that left
Were all neglected by Newark
I remember
Artist like Jerry Gant
Who has paid his dues in blood
Who hasn’t seen any kind of reward or praise?
But still keeps on keeping on
Because its his city
Because its who he is
This city is ingrained in his soul
He is a large part of what keeps this cities art
And flavor alive
Artist like Manuel Acevedo
Who was a legend……..long before most were sent to art schools
By parents who didn’t know were else to send them
Manuel who was a artist long before most of us
Whose name should be written in stone
Somewhere
Some place in this hard hard city
Instead I am watching the new colonizers
Yes colonizers
Who sneak in at night
Who open galleries with the exp of a fly
Then dictate the direction of Newark arts
And define its surveys and now
Even have the nerve to define its art history
Just watch closely folks
These new folks, who have only been here for a minute
Are now seeking to write Newark’s art history
They are seeking it to write it in a way
That nullifies all that have gone before them
Oh they will use us to authenticate themselves
Them throw us any like old shoes
They tell me that they are the history
They tell me
That they are this cities future
I have no answers for a cities need or desire to recover from hell
However, I do know that there is one thing
Wont let stand
I wont let them steal the history of those who have come before them
I wont let them supplant, those who suffered and lived here
With the false memories of the misinformed
Some of us stayed here
Even when the city didn’t love us
We stayed here because we are the pulse…….
We are artist that kept Newark alive
When Newark wasn’t sure if it wanted to live
Yes there is a new nightlife
Art life in Newark
Why do these people come to Newark from the suburbs?
It’s a old story
Many of these folks cant compete against their own
Wouldn’t get a space if they went up against their own
So instead they come here and slum and steal
Set them selves up in their own false kingdoms
Become gods of a dysfunctional art world
In addition, do what so many of them have done before them
These new artist, so called curators and hacks
Are “making spirit necklaces of a vanquished peoples magic
But some of us are still standing
And some of us
Will fight you tooth and nail
We will throw at these pretenders
Things they cant know
Things they cant have learned
In their forages into the hood
They want what Newark has
Authenticity
Realness
The art world in Newark
Has become a colony
I just hope that the slaves here
still know how to rebel
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