Unbreakable Tropes

 Luke Cage as a character

 is a study of many tropes that come up when examining black masculinity. The creators of the character, Archie Goodwin and John Romita Sr., originally took the very obvious issues of unjust targeting, imprisonment and persecution as their orientation to the character. Today those issues are still just as important but have been examined with great scrutiny and opened up to expose many more layers needing discussion. It does leave creators of speculative fiction to think about what tropes are over used and which are still viable and important to explore for audiences. How do these stereotypes change or get more complicated over time? Creators of new content have to be aware of the boring danger of beating a topic to death. The genre of comic books is based on broad themes that get all but personified in one character or another. When one guy holds them all it blocks the game. Think Superman having every power imaginable.

The popular media of the 1970's catered to the public's increasing desire for justice and fairness in their choice to develop this character. The turbulent times of the 1960's Civil Rights movement, the anti war movement and new awareness and distrust for power brokers in government and industry was at the forefront of Americans' consciousness and consequently American media and literary culture.  From Sesame Street to prime time television there was an acknowledgment of the changing popular opinions in entertainment.

The depth to which they delved into the complexity of the black male identity was perhaps equal to their ability to grasp the nuances and write material that would not alienate their core audience, thus the corniness of Cage. 

They no doubt took their lead from films later labeled "black exploitation". They created icons from the romanticized stereotypes that held both the danger that would intrigue viewers and readers and lent those characters the modern "right to be hostile" as Flava Flav put it. They presented characters that were more 3dimensional and complex even though much of the writing was still bad.

The modern manifestation of Cage in comics and now on television takes liberty in the scope of the issues and reflects all the rawness of the contemporary conflicts that play out on the news and on social media never mind in fiction. So we have  a Luke on Netflix dealing with nearly all of the tropes that black men face instead of just a few. He still bears some of the same criticisms seeing as the genre is by nature far fetched fantasy. The power fantasy corniness is however for many forgivable in light of the constant barrage of imagery of black men being disempowered. 

Here are some over-played issues that come to mind that we see all packed into one character:

Son of a preacher

   What is it about a black man spouting scripture that puts people at ease?

Righteously indignant

    Of course we have the right to be hostile, our people are being...

Stereotyped as a thug   

    The criminalization agenda has been well documented (thank you Ava Duvernay!)

Falsely accused of a crime

   It just follows naturally.

Sex object

 

    His potency is laced with fear. The big black stud who will take your woman is used over and over.

Idealized physical form

   His super power is actually just an extension of who he already was. This makes him all the more believable for better or worse. 

Physically durable as if to take punishment  

    We see him shot, stabbed, buried alive, hit by vehicles, suffer, suffer, suffer... Just like so many real life men we know. He survives to suffer more. His power is his reason to take more punishment.

Torn between community and society

   He like many of us wants better for his people but is locked into fighting them instead of the power structures holding them back. What does this teach us? 

It should be noted that many of these tropes play out over and over in Hollywood with male characters of several backgrounds. The allure of the magical negro seems to pluck at the heartstrings and collective conscience for some more than that of the most brooding white male. 

The examination of these conflicts begs the question of what else is left for building blocks of black male characters whose identity and story revolves around their experiences as black men. What other salient questions can be asked? What important misconceptions can be delved into? What enduring personal and social conflicts will be enduring and  appealing to a wide audience as we move forward to the next few decades? This is the stuff of afrofuturism and black speculative fiction.

There are stories being written right now and books sitting on shelves at this moments that go into these territories. Without the aid and platform of Marvel and Netflix how will we see them survive to evolve the way Luke Cage has?

Notes: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luke_Cage

https://notevenpast.org/seventies-great-shift-american-culture-society-and-politics-2001/

Discord Echoes

Life and society develop over time to become more complex and complicated. Fire, the wheel, writing, electricity, the computer, the internets... The complexity makes more opportunities available for humans to survive as a species. We went from hunter gatherers to farmers to shoppers at Walmart. All of those expansion events have ripple effects in other places. All of the progress has come from monumental efforts from the labor of workers. They break their backs so that their children might work with their brains behind desks. Not all of the children of workers can make it to the next rung of the ladder though. Some are fine as workers, some try the arts, some try to climb but fail. When whole families of three generations look at each other and realize no one made it out resentment grows. When whole communities of families of several generations make this realization again and again, hate and resentment and violence erupts.

The disappointment of separated sub-groups of our society has been in an echo chamber of call and response for decades. One group in utter dismay and decrying the injustices the system subjects them to then another group wailing in shrill refrain until an engineer equalizes the song a bit in their favor. There are voices in the center of the chorus, at the outer edges and grumbles from the passive congregation that provide a low discordant buzz that reminds us of the imperfection that soul music relies on. 

Now we see the discontent and hear the wailing that is closest to us. We always heard the grumbles in the reverb. We thought the song was ours to sing as long as we drowned out the other sections. Our choir was so huge that the tenors and the sopranos seemed to never meet. They never believed there was harmony in their discord. Like folks clapping on the 1 and 3 when the emphasis is on the 2 and 4, the polyrhythms sound like chaos when you're in your groove. When the groove is disturbed and funk is overlaid with misinterpreted corniness it can be hard to stay in it and sing along. When all you can hear are the lyrics of the song that you can't stand and this is not your jam it might seem like it's time to step out and find another party.

The reality of the situation has not changed though. The discontent that both groups are shouting about is still very real. Generations of people on both sides feel they are being wronged. They feel they are struggling in vain. That jobs are harder to find. That their safety is threatened. That their values are being dismissed. No matter how we feel about the validity of each other's positions and frustrations we are set in a chorus of discontent that is becoming louder and harsher and more discordant. And while we get snarkier and ruder as we troll and launch meme missiles from behind the wall of computer screens at enemies we only know by profile pics and sound bites, the discord whips us into a chaotic fury that fuels an unseen engine. All because we can't imagine ourselves to ever, ever, ever be so vile. Because we can't imagine.

It's the fifth of the month. My rent and car insurance and car payment are paid but damn.
Pops has mail and bills he needs help with. He doesn't realize that it's Labor Day and the bank is closed. So I'm meeting him here.
I skipped breakfast because I prioritize sleep since school is starting Thursday. I kept my breakfast ( lunch) cost to 99cents. These sour cream and onion chips will hold me for a bit.
I sit patiently perched on the banks huge stone blocks that once probably held lions remembering the last time I say atop this block getting dressed to be killed in effigy. On my way to the stone perch I saw someone try the door and walk away; no cash for him today. Like pops he forgot or never knew about Labor Day or never cared enough to remember. Across the street I hear an argument getting louder and louder. No big. It's expected here. This feels like a hub of the discontent. The female voice gets louder and my squint picks her out. Pushing a babycarriage and pulling on a man. At the crescendos I can hear her pleading for him to give back the money and his dispassionate "I don't care". I stood ready to jump down and intervene if I saw violence but all I saw was tears and a woman pulling herself back together and strolling on.
No pops yet.
A man and his young son (I assume from the bond) come to the steps and ask me if it's closed. I tell them I guess it is and they change course. As others folk get on and off buses, set up tables for outdoor patios, and begin to congregate on the ramp of the corner store the father and supposed son come back by my perch. The father has a smile and a pile of twenties. He kissed them and raises them so slightly up. As they walk and I watch he holds the cash down to his son's level and the little round faced boy mimics his Poppa and kissed the crisp bills with a smile as a chaser. Good luck for them it seems.
A pair of older women in my peripheral vision as I'm writing about the arguing couple approaches the gargoyle post and louder than need be ask and answer the obvious rhetorical question. Yes it's closed. They utter exasperated curses so we know how they feel. One more example of the temple's disappointing the masses. The dependence on the green God on the day set aside to contemplate labor.

Pop just called. Someone just told him the bank was closed. He's at home.... Never mind. His bills are rubber banded together to assume a sense of order. Financial responsibilities are important you know.  Bills and insurance co-pays and interest and accrued this and that is all too much for him but he won't admit it. I know it is because it's too much for me. As much as this shaky dinosaur frustrates me I empathize because I recognize in myself the same brutish and beautiful simplicity but at another level. Education and experience in the modern world aside I often want things simpler.
The cost of this wonderful world full of glittering screens and daily updates from the geniuses amongst us is that old migrant workers turned janitors turned pastor/custodians end up sitting in one room apartments making friends with entropy. The price of the glorious excesses is the tension and struggle when the first of the month bills bump up against last month's debts. The check to check folk crowdfunding the new millennium just like the old one. Happy Labor Day.

The Struggle Continues

This is probably going to come out like mush.

 I’ll most likely read it and go, “GAAAAAHHHH!!!! What was I thinking?” 

 I am forcing myself to write down thoughts and communicate to God Knows Whom in this blog that may never be read and that I may never even go back and read but I’m trying my damnedest to hold to some sort of process and an agenda.

 So here goes.

Let me start by going backwards if I can. Let me start  by explaining why I’m so tired and frazzled and angst ridden. 

I’m sitting in my studio, it’s looking more and more like a broom closet. A comrade whom also uses the space here at 391 Dudley Street ( I can’t call it by the name that the organizer does) saw me bringing in shipping palettes and said, “ Wow! it’s getting packed in there.” She meant my studio but they were actually going to the semi garbage dump of the enclosed back yard. I had the idea of using these big wooden throw away structures as the base for a graffiti wall… So I loaded up the Xterra and brought  a bunch of them that I had in my yard at home from when I had the other brilliant idea of making a wheeled cage for Effingee the Beast.  I lugged them through the lot and through the building one by one and dumped them in the back with a pile of rain and weather tattered paneling.  I screwed them together at 90 degree angles and BANG! Modular easels for big art. 

Was it worth it? Probably not. I screwed my timeline and ignored all the other stuff I was supposed to do like put stuff in the mail, and write and finish those short comics. Everyday I come to the studio to work I am overwhelmed with where to start and what to prioritize. This has got to stop. But it won’t. I try to tell myself that yesterday was really productive and I got a lot done. Truth is none of it was art so… none of it was satisfying. There’s the issue. My brain rewards me for doing new, complex things and deprioritizes the mundane. It will not let me focus enough to start something unless it feels challenging. I see it in others like my students who procrastinate, they thrive on the endorphins released by stress even though they seem to freak out. I know that I can work well under pressure but I don’t know what this shiny thing over here is… 

I have spent enough time with me to know how my mind and my body work optimally. I work best when I’ve done some small tasks, figured some stuff out by exploring and then worked furiously on something I have previously planned the shit out of and let rest. I work best on my feet after being either well rested or in a sustained work pace. I am horribly unproductive if well fed but worse if I actually stop to realize I’m hungry. Unfortunately the world and society does not give a flying fart about my optimal work conditions. So I persist and push to get stuff done. Since committing to my practice by working Fridays in the studio instead of at BAA work has found me and I have been busy. I have also kept myself busy with side ventures like the comic and the “Sub Shop”. I’ve consulted and presented for groups and been on panels. I’ve done concept work for a video game project. I’ve done public art projects and a mural project. It has been non stop.

Last week I finished a mural project for a church’s children’s center. I also created a live drawn dry erase mural for Arts Emerson’s new season presentation. I’ve been planning a collaboration with Nahdra Ra Kiros of The House of Nahdra and with Pelaiah Auset of EnterAttainMent in which we will weave our collective works in fashion music and comic art into an afrofuturist statement of arrival. This promises to be fun and vibrant but the possibilities are expanding over my head like a beautifully organic hurricane waiting to downpour.

I ashamedly got the hang of the payment aspect of Patreon just recently and realized there is not necessarily a feedback loop from patrons and I just have to be proactive and on top of things.

 I put together a body of work that reflects my studio process and my farme of mind artistically to send to my patrons for their support. It contains deconstructed parts of graffiti, comics and other studio process stuff. It resembles vague non objective comic book pages. The work reminded me of how much I love Bill Sienkievitch’s and Dave McKean’s and Linda Barry’s work. I had fun making the pieces but as usual they made me want to do more and that is another distraction I can’t detour for.

I absolutely love being an artist but I also get buried in the stuff and the time and the cost of this lifestyle so it can wear me thin. I mentioned that one of the side projects that had been ongoing was concept art for an experimental video game project. I got way to into it and started researching game engines in order to be more efficient with my connecting for the actual builder of the game. I polished up some of my skills in the 3d modeling program Sculptris. I dove headfirst into Blender and got better at modeling, rigging, animating, and even building games in Blender. I troubleshot a bunch of sticking points and practiced it in any five minute interval that I could. I watched YouTube videos on the treadmill or in the car waiting for the parking cops to not ticket me. I built little games to show my students ( some of whom taught me how to use the program!). Finally the dream I had of putting together transmedia projects was coming together. Last week I dusted off an older project that I kept imagining as a video game or an ARG ( alternate reality game ). I was getting my GEEK ON!!! 

…AAAAAAaaaaand AGAIN I’m distracted with more potential projects!

By now my to do list looks like a best seller.

I reconcile my distractibility by saying that it’s all connected. It’s all necessary stuff. It’s learning and growth. I have to be flexible and adaptable in this new economy!

The truth is that as I sit here in this glorified (not really) broom closet surrounds by insulating foil covered foam, Styrofoam tumbling out of recycled plastic bags being used for the tenth time, power tools, forty eight by thirty six inch  battered and abused picture frames, puppets and painted closet doors, art supplies and furniture, I could not imagine life without stuff like this somewhere for me to fashion into some madness. So as I sit here feeling the fatigue chemicals course through me and my heart rate slow like a dying shark I’m happy that I at least wrote down somewhere all the crazy things I’ve been up to recently because even if it turns out I am completely mad and none of this means anything, at least I wasn’t lazy.