By Hailey Stangebye

Photos by Trey Barkett

On Valentines Day, our documentary, “My Great Day in Harlem” returned to the Gateway Film Center as part of a special screening for nearly 200 kids from Columbus City Schools. After the film, Mayor Andrew Ginther addressed the theatre. Then, the audience engaged in a thoughtful Q&A session with the stars of the documentary.

This screening, orchestrated by the Columbus Department of Neighborhoods, was so much more than a movie. It was an opportunity for young minds to be inspired by local legends. These students spoke with relatable role models who created an honest dialogue about achieving their aspirations.

The goal was to show by example that Columbus fosters a level of creative excellence that welcomes all forms of expression.

“Art is so important because it gives us a chance to share our experiences, our walks and our journeys. It also gives us a chance to expose ourselves to things different than us. Things that maybe we wouldn’t necessarily have as much in common with,” Ginther said. “I hope that you’ve had a great morning being able to enjoy and reflect on ‘My Great Day in Harlem.’ It is art and culture and the incredible artists in our community that help make our community so special. And I hope that your opportunity to see and hear from some of the great artists in our community is a way to celebrate what makes Columbus so exceptional.”

When students were given the chance to ask questions of the artists and the film makers, hands shot up in the air. Below, are just a few of those questions and their respective answers.

Q: For Jay Swifa, what was your hardest time as a musician?

A: “That a great question. Probably around your age is when I got serious. I was lucky enough to have parents who were in the arts. My mother is a dancer and my dad is also a musician. One thing I will urge everybody here to do — I don’t know if everybody is interested in making music — but there were always people around me who made music. And I would bug everybody, like, ‘Teach me how to make beats. Teach me how to rap.’ So, this was at age 11 or age 12. I’ve had many bumps and bruises in my music career. One of my hardest times was when I was in a very popular group and we actually broke up. I had to figure out what I was trying to do with myself before I started to make music again. Once I figured out my goals and where I wanted to go in my mind and talked to people around me, it started to become more clear. It’s always good to talk to people when you go through your rough spots, your down times. Don’t be afraid to talk to anybody. I opened myself up, which let me make better music.”

Q: For Samara Tillman, when did you feel like you were going to get really serious with fashion?

A: “I was in 6th grade, and I wanted to be a part of our — we couldn’t call it a cheer team — but I called it a ‘spirit team.’ And my mother was always about presentation. Every time she went out of the house she was very well put together. So, from there, she was like, ‘If you’re going to do this, then you’re going to do it right.’ So I was like, ‘Well I’m going to go ahead and design our spirit team outfits.’ So I designed it, and she made it. It got a very good response from teachers and all that. So I was like, ‘Oh, maybe I’m on to something.’ Then, in 9th grade, I always wanted to be different. So I asked my mom to make me an outfit for my first day of high school. That got a good response. So it was really when I was 11 when I knew that I had a gift for it. I didn’t really learn the art of sewing until I got to college, and I was making outfits for my college friends — crazy, fur, feathers, denim. They wore it because they love me. So pick your friends wisely. Pick those who encourage you to keep creating.”

Q: For Tripp Fontane, what inspired you to start rapping?

A: “It wasn’t a rapper. I don’t know if you all are old enough to have heard of him, but I actually started rapping because of ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic.’ Rap is actually not what made me fall in love with music. My dad who is like 66, so I fell in love with funk music and soul music. He’s a musician also. So I always gravitated toward live instrumentation, as opposed to rap. But, at like 7, he came out with three songs in a row and they were all hits. He came out with ‘Eat It,’ ‘I’m Fat’ and ‘Amish Paradise.’ And the music that he made was a funny version of a real song. And that inspired me to pick up a pen. I was like, ‘Bro, he’s taking my favorite songs and making funnier songs from it. I feel like I can do that.’ So, at 7 years old, I started writing music because of ‘Weird Al.'”

Q: For Lori Linsey, have you ever wanted to quit dancing?

A: As a matter of fact, I did quit dancing. My story is this. I started dancing when I was about 3 or 4 years old. I started off with ballet. By the time I got to middle school I was doing more tap and jazz. And I actually overheard someone make a comment about me that was not very nice. I did not even know this person. But what I did, at a young age and without knowing, is I took that person’s opinion of me and I made it my own. That person said that I shouldn’t be on stage, that nobody wants to see me, I don’t look the part. All of these really really negative things. And I stopped dancing at that point in time. I am so grateful that I’ve come beyond that. I started dancing again, and it’s something that I absolutely love. Any other dancer can say that when you dance nothing else matters. Nothing else matters. I feel free when I dance. I feel beautiful when I dance. I feel that I am as close to God as I can be on this earth when I dance. Nothing else matters when I move. So, if you are a dancer and you love dance and you have that similar feeling, then you cannot stop. I don’t care if you’re just dancing in your bedroom in front of your mirror. Do not stop dancing.”

Q: For Percy King, what is your advice for a young creative?

A: “I think, for me, what I always tell people is to get out and explore the world around you. Expose yourself to as much as possible. Expose yourself to as many musical forms as possible. As many artistic forms as possible. As many books as possible. Because you may not like everything that you see, but you might find the one thing that you’re passionate about. Or you might combine two things and create your own lane and become passionate about that. I think one of the things that I used to be intimidated by when it came to famous musicians and artists was that these people were like gods. They were bigger than life. They had some magical talent where they just didn’t care what they did — they went into the studio at 2 or 3 in the morning because they had great work ethic. And they do, and I give them credit for it. But what I also always tell people is that, once you find something that you’re passionate about, the amount of time that you put into it doesn’t matter. You’ll go in at 2 or 3 in the morning because you want to. You don’t even have to make yourself do it. So when you look at successful people, and you look at the amount of time they put in, and you see all these books that say ‘the seven laws of success’ or ‘get rich this way,’ remember that, at the end of the day, those people found something that they were passionate about. And that’s what they did. So that’s my advice.”

Out of all of the phenomenal questions and answers, one theme remained consistent: get stared now, and get started here. With the technology and resources available in Columbus today, there’s no reason to wait to pursue your passion.

“What we really want you to know is that this is all within your grasp,” Marshall Shorts, a creative and a core member of the Harlem Renaissance team, said. “You don’t have to go to Harlem to be an artist, or to make something happen for yourself. Whatever it is that you want to do, you can do that right here. And you have the ability. These folks weren’t old when they were making this art. Some of them were close to your age. So, keep that in mind as you express how you feel. Art was just their way of expressing what was going on around them. You have the opportunity to do that with what you do as well.”

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos by Marshall Shorts

On Valentines Day, the Gateway Film Center will host a special screening of “My Great Day in Harlem” for children from Columbus City Schools.

The documentary, which follows five local artists on a landmark journey to Harlem, was originally released at the Gateway Film Center on Nov. 30, 2018. On Thursday, it returns to the big screen to inspire the young minds of Columbus. After the film, these lucky kids will have an opportunity to ask each of the featured artists questions about their experiences and the realities of being a creative in this city.

“My Great Day in Harlem” is more than a documentary. It’s an opportunity for kids in our community to connect with and relate to passionate creatives. The people featured in this film are our contemporary trailblazers. They’re our role models for the next generation.

Meet the stars of “My Great Day in Harlem”

TRIPP FONTANE

“Art is not a right. It is a necessity by virtue of the people… I believe that art is the translation of the cosmos.”

Originally from the small town of Xenia, Ohio, Tripp Fontane moved to Columbus to find new opportunities in the realm of poetry. Before breaking into the spoken-word scene, Tripp focused primarily on rap. That all changed when he went to an open mic and decided to perform a song without the beat. People started calling him a poet, and Tripp says he still hasn’t corrected them. Today, he boasts international acclaim.

SAMARA TILLMAN

“We have so many talented people here. I think that the vision for the future of fashion in Columbus is bright.”

Samara was born and raised in Columbus. She left for college, but after graduating from Kentucky State with her degree in fashion merchandising and business management, Samara returned to Columbus where she ultimately opened a fashion boutique in 2005. For the next five years, she ran boutiques all around the Columbus area. Today, she runs a dance studio and continues to design. She plans to release her next clothing line in fall of 2019.

JAY SWIFA

“Whether I affect one person, or five people, or a million people, I just feel like I have insight to add on the world today.”

Jay is a musician who hails from the north side Columbus, but he feels close to every corner of the city. He grew up surrounded by creative energy — his father was a musician and his mother was a dancer. With all of those influences, Jay developed a witty, creative sound from a young age. After lots of success with his former group, Fly Union, Jay set out to work on his solo sound.

PERCY KING

“The older I get, the more I understand what it means to celebrate your heroes. My work celebrates heroes.”

Percy is a Columbus native who was raised on the south side of the city. He says that he’s always been an artist and a creative, but he didn’t think of pursuing art as a career until recently. Instead, Percy devoted most of his time to his football career. His creative outlet over the years became woodwork and home improvement. Today, he’s transitioned that passion for woodwork into fine art portraits carved out of layers of wood.

LORI LINDSEY

“Whenever I am honored to dance in front of other people, my goal — my intent — is to move them. Whether it’s to think a different thought, to take action on something, maybe it’s just to brighten their day or to  give them hope. It’s more than steps to a song.”

Lori has lived across the globe, from Dublin to L.A., but she’s originally from Columbus. Her passion is dance, which she started at only 3 or 4 years old. In high school, Lori briefly stopped dancing after hearing hurtful gossip from the dance community. Today, she’s proud to say that she doesn’t let someone else’s opinion define her or determine her future. Now, Lori inspires young dancers at Elite Performance Academy.

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos courtesy of Tripp Fontane

A bus ride changed Tripp Fontane’s life.

He was leaving Dayton and heading to a poetry workshop in Cincinnati. As he settled into his seat, the older man next to him struck up a conversation.

“He looked like he was maybe in his 70s. You know, the elevator didn’t necessarily go all the way to the top floor anymore. So he was drifting in and out of the conversation,” Tripp says.

The chatter started simply enough: Where are you from? Where are you going? What do you do? Tripp said that he was a poet, and, in a twist of fate, the older man said that he, too, was a poet. The man began to list names of artists he’d studied under and his friends in the industry.

“And then he just stops and looks off into space,” Tripp says. “And he said, ‘I want you to know something. We’re doing this wrong. We’re doing it wrong.’”

Tripp, a bit caught off guard, asked what he meant.

“As that man starts to pull it together, he said something that has stuck with me and it really changed my life. He said, ‘Art. We’re doing it wrong. Art is not a right. It is a necessity by virtue of the people. Art should not be seen as a luxury, but as, instead, one of the last spiritual languages that we have left.’ And that really shook me to my core,” Tripp says. “And I believe that. I believe that art is the translation of the cosmos.”

“He said, ‘Art. We’re doing it wrong. Art is not a right. It is a necessity by virtue of the people. Art should not be seen as a luxury, but as, instead, one of the last spiritual languages that we have left.’ And that really shook me to my core. And I believe that. I believe that art is the translation of the cosmos.”

Tripp’s artistic medium of choice is spoken-word poetry. But that wasn’t always the case. While he wrote his first poem in the fifth grade, he didn’t embrace it as his vocation until college. Originally, he focused primarily on rap.

“The music I was making wasn’t necessarily appealing because it wasn’t, sonically, what people wanted to hear,” Tripp says. “I don’t consider myself a conscious artists, per se, but my music has been pretty reflective of my life and the lives of those around me. That’s just not the music that was poppin’ at the time.”

His luck changed when he decided to go to an open mic. He watched a young lady perform a spoken-word poem and, while he was familiar with the medium, it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind at the time.

“When I saw her, it kind of all came crashing back, like, ‘Ah man, if I just do one of my songs without the beat, then they don’t really have a choice but to listen.’ So I did it, and people started calling me a poet, and I still haven’t corrected them.”

“When I saw her, it kind of all came crashing back, like, ‘Ah man, if I just do one of my songs without the beat, then they don’t really have a choice but to listen.’ So I did it, and people started calling me a poet, and I still haven’t corrected them.”

Today, Tripp is a big fish with international acclaim in the spoken-word community. In fact, he was recently commissioned to write a piece that he’ll perform next year in Cuba. He’s also one of only five Columbus artists who traveled to Harlem, New York as a part of the city-wide Harlem Renaissance campaign.

That reputation didn’t bloom overnight, though. It took years of practice and persistence to overcome each obstacle he encountered.

“I think one of the huge problems I had early on was just the lack of opportunity,” Tripp says. “Spoken word is still very much underground, as popular as it has been, as popular as its getting now, it’s still a very underground thing. Which I love.

“But, in Dayton, before I became the big fish, I couldn’t get anything. The few shows that there were, no one was trying to book me. And I was performing for free, so I use the term ‘book’ loosely. I was going to Cincinnati for free. I was driving up to Columbus for free. I was driving to Indy for free.”

The limited amount of opportunities in Dayton proved all the more challenging given Tripp’s personal circumstances.

“You get used to the odds being stacked against you. I think any impoverished person, often, is reduced to survival. You don’t necessarily have the luxury of looking down the road and planning long-term,” Tripp says. “You’re really worried about whether you’re going to get this next meal, whether the lights are gonna be on tomorrow, whether you’re going to be able to keep the fridge running and put food in it, you know what I mean? So, a lot of times, I would defeat myself before I ever tried because of my circumstances.”

“You’re really worried about whether you’re going to get this next meal, whether the lights are gonna be on tomorrow, whether you’re going to be able to keep the fridge running and put food in it, you know what I mean? So, a lot of times, I would defeat myself before I ever tried because of my circumstances.”

Despite the obstacles — or, perhaps, because of them — Tripp continued (and continues) to write poetry. That’s because he sees poetry, and art in general, as essential. His craft is not a luxury. It’s a force that reflects and changes the world.

Though he doesn’t tend to dwell on the past, Tripp says that he witnesses the similarities between the Harlem Renaissance 100 years ago and the cultural climate today. He posits that we’re currently in a Renaissance of our own.

“There’s this influx of art. Everybody is picking up a camera now. Everybody is a blogger, everybody is a vlogger, everybody is a writer, everybody is a poet. There is this push against what we are told we are supposed to be, and what we’re told we’re supposed to be doing and the path that we’re supposed to take,” Tripp says. “Every revolution, every cultural shift, every societal shift starts with art. Whether that’s an orator, whether that’s a painter, whether it’s a poet, whether it’s an engineer. Everything starts with art.”

Tripp channels this momentum of revolutionary change in his poems. Not just because the words are beautifully true, and not just because he’s talented, but because art is a necessity by virtue of the people.

Tripp’s poetry is one of the many signs that we’re in a Renaissance. He says that if we’re plugged into this reality and this moment, then we can take a movement and change the course of history.

Tripp Fontane’s Work

Nannette Maciejunes, executive director of the Columbus Museum of Art, and Tripp Fontane, the spoken-word poet, represented the Harlem Renaissance campaign on Good Morning Columbus for their show on Thursday, Sept. 27, 2018.

This feature is a small taste of the wealth of experiences and moments we’ve created — and continue to create — to celebrate the anniversary of the Harlem Renaissance. In the coming weeks, we’ll release the stories of each artist who traveled from Columbus to Harlem, including the story of Tripp Fontane.

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos  courtesy of Matthew Vaughn

If he were an animal, Matthew Vaughn says he’d be a snake.

That’s because he can create melodies that glide elegantly through themes of heartbreak and death. Then, in the next track, he can write a verse that bites down with a ruthless edge. A snake represents the practiced union of grace and force.

Practice is a crucial component of the equation. He didn’t master his voice and style overnight.

“I started writing poetry at a very young age, like elementary,” Matthew says. “My uncle wrote poetry a lot. He would just walk around the house and recite it and I thought what he could do with words was super cool. So I started writing and continued to write throughout middle school and high school.”

Poetry was his first passion. Taking after his uncle, Matthew would write poem after poem, filling up notebooks with the written word. Things changed, though, his freshman year of high school.

“I had gotten one of my journals stolen, and so I was just really upset about that,” Matthew says. “Then, my oldest brother passed away and I just didn’t feel any motivation to do poetry. Over the summer, I still wanted to write, but I didn’t want to write poetry. So I started rapping.”

“Then, my oldest brother passed away and I just didn’t feel any motivation to do poetry. Over the summer, I still wanted to write, but I didn’t want to write poetry. So I started rapping.”

That summer between freshman and sophomore year in high school, Matthew started recording his tracks. Looking back, he describes those early recordings as disturbing; those songs show how he processed every complex emotion he encountered after losing so much.

When he recorded that first song, he didn’t have any fancy equipment.

“I started by blasting the music out of the computer speakers, and then recording the verse with the music in the background on my sister’s cellphone,” Matthew says. “Then I would upload those tracks to my SoundCloud. I still have a few of them.”

Over the next few years, Matthew honed his craft and practiced with a rap group. Once the group disbanded, though, he decided to take a leap of faith and perform at his first open mic. Until then, he had never performed anything live.

“I was shaking and everything and afraid of everything. I went on stage with sunglasses on because I didn’t want to look at the crowd, and it was just very, very scary,” Matthew says. “But I fell in love with performing, and so I started writing more spoken word. It was pretty much a wrap after that because I fell in love with the expression and the connection to people that I could have. Now I’m here.”

“I was shaking and everything and afraid of everything. I went on stage with sunglasses on because I didn’t want to look at the crowd, and it was just very, very scary.”

So where is “here?” It’s a place and time where Matthew proudly introduces himself as an artist. That’s because the term “rapper” doesn’t cover half of his creative endeavors.

“Yes, I can rap. Yes, I can do poetry — write it and perform it — but I also like to take pictures, I also like to sing (I’m in the gospel choir at my university), I also like to do a little bit of graphic design,” Matthew says. “I like to introduce myself as an artist because I feel like I can do a lot of things. Even dancing.”

Currently, Matthew is a published author of Intentional Scribbles and a student at Wilberforce University majoring in sociology. He says he owes a great deal of his success to support from Underdog Academy and his friends at Sun Tribe — or, as he describes the tight-knit group: “Those people in your life that give you motivation and hope for the future of humanity.”

“My purpose in life is to create, and I literally don’t know how to go about my life without doing it. It’s my form of breathing,” Matthew says. “My way of breathing is through art and creation. That’s my way of understanding and describing things.”

“My purpose in life is to create, and I literally don’t know how to go about my life without doing it. It’s my form of breathing.”

Matthew Vaughn’s Work

Beauty in the Pain

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos by Kenny Williams

Before he goes on stage, Kashis Keyz visualizes a physical button.

It’s a button that controls all of his energy. In an instant, he can press this button and completely change his behavior. It doesn’t matter if he’s sick, upset or hasn’t slept in days. That button changes everything. He turns his energy all the way up to perform.

The only thing it takes to press that button is a pure love for music.

“I feel like love has to be the prerequisite with it all, with anything creative,” Kashis says. “You have to love it to a point where you love it more than eating and sleeping. I feel like when you get to that point, when you love something that much, it just flows out of you. And that’s what happens to me every time I perform. Every time.”

“You have to love it to a point where you love it more than eating and sleeping. I feel like when you get to that point, when you love something that much, it just flows out of you.”

Kashis began performing when he was just a child growing up in Connecticut. His grandmother ran a non-profit that brought the arts to middle schools. The first song she had him perform was “I Know I Can,” by Nas. After that, he learned “Jesus Walks” by Kanye.

“I did that for probably eight months to a year. To the point where I was like ‘I’m tired of rapping other people’s stuff. I wanna make my own music,’” Kashis says. “So I started writing myself.”

Even though Kashis was only 11 years old, his first song was a hit. He performed it for a talent show that was broadcast on local television and won third place. The prize was $100 and he never forgot that moment.

“At that age, for me to win that for my first song, I was like, ‘Shit, I’m supposed to do this,’” Kashis says.

“At that age, for me to win that for my first song, I was like, ‘Shit, I’m supposed to do this.'”

As a teenager, Kashis moved back to Columbus, where he was originally born, to stay with his father. Throughout high school and his time at the University of Cincinnati and then Columbus State, Kashis continued to dabble and write.

But it wasn’t until March of 2016 that everything changed. At that point, he had been working on an album project for nearly three years with no end in sight.

Then he lost his job.

He took this as a sign. He turned his negative situation into an opportunity to pursue the career that truly inspired him.

“I thought, ‘Music must be it.’ So I finished the project, put it out two years ago and then started getting shows. Everything started moving from there,” Kashis says.

Kashis takes special care to connect with his audience through his live performances and his words. He knows that if he can hook a new listener with his presence, then they’ll go home and really listen to the individual words in his songs and feel even more connected.

His ultimate goal is to create music that touches people. Billions of people.

“My message is that with anything you’ve gone through, you can flip it and make it into a positive. Everybody goes through different situations in their life. Everybody has trauma and drama associated with experiences,” Kashis says. “But, we can take that, mold it, and create something beautiful. There’s beauty in the pain.”  

“Everybody goes through different situations in their life. Everybody has trauma and drama associated with experiences. But, we can take that, mold it, and create something beautiful. There’s beauty in the pain.”

Kashis Keyz’ Website

Follow his music:

Spotify

iTunes

Tidal

YouTube

SoundCloud

She is the Renaissance

By Hailey Stangebye

Photos by Kenny Williams (@kbizhwl)

Keisha Soleil is an alchemist who holds all of Columbus in her heart.

People know her as a poet and a singer, but those labels hardly scratch the surface. Keisha identifies as a spiritual practitioner, a ritual leader, a woman, a creator and, most-encompassing, an alchemist.

“I can do whatever the hell I want to do,” Keisha says. “It’s whatever moves. I let the spirit lead me.”

For Keisha, the Harlem Renaissance is more than a campaign. It’s life itself.

“In the actual Harlem Renaissance, they were coming together because that was their way of surviving. That was their way of thriving. It wasn’t because they looked good or because ‘I can do this.’ No. It’s because ‘I need to do this or else I’m going to die,’” Keisha says.

“For me, in my everyday life, telling my story is how I liberate myself. It’s how I liberate my family, my mother, the people who are gonna come after me, the young people that I’m living for. I have to stand on the truth of my narrative. Every day, I have a reason to be a Renaissance. Even if this campaign wasn’t happening.”

“Every day, I have a reason to be a Renaissance. Even if this campaign wasn’t happening.”

Every fiber of Keisha’s work links to her central goal: To challenge the status quo. Her method of storytelling invites her audience to reexamine truth and explore how they fit into this puzzle that is the Columbus narrative. That’s why she tells her story.

“My narrative is one that usually gets either overlooked, or other people try to make it fit what makes them comfortable. I feel like it’s my duty to tell my story,” Keisha says. “Not even for a bigger scale, but for my family. I have a mom who was born in 1950, who lived through Jim Crow, who lived through Nixon, who was raising kids in what we know now as the King Lincoln district… I have to speak my truth so that their truth doesn’t get erased.”

“I have to speak my truth so that their truth doesn’t get erased.”

Columbus is Keisha’s canvas. These are the people and the streets that built and continue to shape her. This is where, as a child, she would entertain herself by making up songs and creating custom cassettes for her mom. In her Columbus middle school, Keisha performed with Transit Arts. And in high school, she helped found Columbus City Schools’ first-ever high school slam team.

“I feel like I was really shaped and made by the Columbus writer scene. People like Will Evans, Scott Woods, and Writing Wrongs Poetry — that was my home poetry spot,” Keisha says. “As long I’ve been allowed to go out and have a social life, I’ve been performing and doing stuff in Columbus.”

For Keisha, Columbus is unique. She says that the spirit of this city is not broken, but wounded. That’s why her work creates spaces of vulnerability and transformation to help the people in her community heal and grow.

“I fucking love this city,” Keisha says. “I love the people. I love every aspect of it. If anything, that’s why I want people to know who I am and to know my art, because I literally want my art to reflect my people and to reflect my city in a way that’s honest. Because we deserve it. This city deserves it so much. There’s just so much beautiful stuff in this city. But there are so many people in this city who are just hungry and longing for somebody to acknowledge them. That’s what I want my art to do — to shine a light on all those people whose voices aren’t popular enough to be heard or to be seen.”

“That’s what I want my art to do — to shine a light on all those people whose voices aren’t popular enough to be heard or seen.”

Keisha’s Work