With all that’s going on in the world, what do painted faces have to do with it?

I’ve always endeavored to make work that speaks to the times. That reveals ways of seeing things differently, and seeing how differently things can be.

So when opportunities arise to share my work, I use them as litmus tests – to see if it is still doing what it was intended to.

If it can open hearts and minds like it did mine, build bridges across division, and confront inner issues alongside larger societal ones, than I can be assured this MassQing thing is still worth doing.

I felt that assurance earlier this month, at my artist talk at the Substation.

I’ve felt it even more researching other Indigenous traditions of body decoration practiced across the world. And the people and cultures that steward them.

My research has led me (virtually) to the real Amazon in Brazil, the Nuba Mountains in Southern Sudan, and the Omo Valley of Ethiopia among countless other places. In each of these locales, strikingly unique examples of body decoration can be found, as well as strikingly similar ecological and political challenges.

The people and their stories give an even deeper context to my work, providing a foundation of understanding, a standard of engagement, and an expanded community of like-spirited practitioners across the globe and throughout time. All of which has made me feel a lot less alone, and a lot more aligned.

So I’d like to share some of that research with you:

BRAZIL - The Kayapó

Our first stop brings us to the South-east Amazon in Brazil. There the Kayapó or “Mẽbêngôkre” as they refer to themselves (which roughly translates to “people of the watering hole”), have a rich tradition of using pigments derived from fruits and seeds to paint intricate patterns on their faces and bodies, The patterns and colors speak to familial ties, clan affiliations, individual roles, shared cultural heritage, and ancestral knowledge across generations. Their painting is a central part of their daily life, and is practiced by everyone, but particularly mothers and female elders who are seen as the protectors of culture.

The red pigment comes from ground seeds of the achiote shrub and the black from the liquid in the genipa fruit.

The Mẽbêngôkre’s indigenous territory, recognized by the Brazilian Constitution, is “the last great block of intact forest in southeastern Amazonia… an ecological stronghold in a region otherwise transformed by deforestation”. Their stewardship of the land contributes to the conservation of biodiversity within the Amazon, which in turn, influences the climate across the entire planet. It is their body decorating traditions that bind the Mẽbêngôkre people to the land and remind them of their duty to preserve and protect it.

That land has been under constant threat of illegal invasions by gold miners, loggers, and ranchers. From 2019 to 2022, rampant de-regulation under then president Jair Bolsonero, caused deforestation to balloon and Indigenous protection agencies to be defunded and/or decommissioned. With the election of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s as president in 2022, a renewed commitment to preservation of the Amazon and its people began, ushering in the biggest drop in deforestation since records began in 1988.

But this year, Bolsonero’s son, Flavio, challenged the incumbent Lula in a presidential runoff election. In a Guardian article, former Brazilian environment minister Marina Silva warned that Bolsonero’s cabinet are “denialists” who believe “the forest must be removed for economic activities…” and will again “encourage illegal mining, the invasion of Indigenous lands, and violence against Indigenous and Quilombola communities.”

Thankfully Lula’s administration prevailed. The hope is a continuation off preservation and protection policies as well as a renewed dedication to an eco-friendly, sustainable, and people first Brazil. Otherwise, the Mẽbêngôkre, donned in their distinct red and black paint, may be the Amazon’s last line of defense.

SUDAN - The Nuba

In Sudan’s Kordofan province, The Nuba people reside at base of the southern Nuba mountains. Consisting of 50 or so indigenous ethnic groups, The Nuba have occupied their ancestral lands since time immemorial.

They are also authors of some of the most incredible body art captured on camera.

In the early 1960’s German photographer, and former Nazi propagandist, (yes, you read that right) Leni Riefenstahl, traveled to the Nuba Mountains to “document” their rich traditions. Her photography, while beautiful, helped promote the harmful trope of the noble savage, and became an instant sensation in the 70’s bringing an onslaught of interest and tourism to the Nuba mountains.

Nuba body painting is primarily done by males, often before dances in the dry seasons. An assortment of chalks, clays, and ash are used as pigment. Their colors, patterns and designs often indicated status, profession, and level of maturity/development as men, in addition to accentuating their features and physiques.

From the information I’ve been able to gather, (which most likely is out of date), women do not usually engage in the painting. But younger women and girls will lather their skin and hair in the red or yellow clays of the area before dances. Many women of all ages also adorn themselves with jewelry and engage in scarification practices to convey their own beauty, strength and level of maturity.

The increase in tourism from the 70’s on has effected the practices and social norms of the Nuba – as their once communal rituals and activities became on-demand exhibitions for paying tourist. Foreign currency has interfered with their traditional economies and labor arrangements between families.

Furthermore, Sudan’s conservative Muslim government, put off by early depictions of the Nuba by foreign photographers, responded by imposing bans on their cultural practices (such as their stick wrestling, polyamory and “public nakedness”) and began encouraging the Nuba’s conversion to Islam. Christian missionaries have done the same. These twin pressures; opportunistic foreigners from without, and fundamentalist governments from within, have led to profound disturbances in the Nuba way of life.

But more recently, the ongoing civil war in Sudan has brought far greater disturbances, as clashes between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM-N) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) have spread to Nuba’s mountainous regions. Indiscriminate bombings, an influx of displaced refugees, bad crop seasons, and de facto aid embargoes due to the violence, have all combined to create great instability and uncertainty in the region.

According to the Ayin Network (a news outlet in Sudan) members from the Otoro tribe (one of the many living in the Nuba Mountains) have accused the SPLM-N and RSF of “attempting to seize their lands for mining activities”. SPLM-N leadership have countered with claims that the Otoro are rebelling against their authority. It is reported that the back and forth arises out of disputes over land ownership, border demarcations, and the control of gold mining areas. Both the SPLM-N and RSF forces rely heavily on gold to finance their military operations. While life-saving aid has routinely been cut off to the area, gold has continued to flow freely to the UAE. The tribes of the Nuba Mountains have been caught in the crossfire and their people, customs and territories are all now at great risk.

ETHIOPIA - The Surma & Mursi

To the east, the Omo Valley of Ethiopia is home to a constellation of agro-pastoralist tribes including the Suri (Surma) and Mursi, each known for their elegant and elaborate face painting. Both groups have also been known to accent their body painting with flowers, plants, horns and other natural materials. Women may also adorn themselves with bracelets, beads and dhebi a tugoin or lip plates which are ceramic or wooden mouthpieces inserted into the bottom lip and enlarged over time through a process of stretching (similar to ear gauges). The plates are a traditional symbol of social adulthood, fertility, beauty, and cultural identity, as well as an indication of a woman’s availability/readiness for marriage.

Another German photographer (sans the Nazi ties) by the name of Hans Silvester captured images of the Mursi and Surma in his Art and the Body Introduction to Natural Fashion, Tribal Decoration from Africa photo book, which I mentioned in a previous post as being a major influence on my MassQing practice.

Though he had a much more humanitarian approach, Silvester’s photos, like Riefenstahl’s – attracted an onslaught of photo-tourism to the Omo Valley.

The influx of foreigners has had similarly destabilizing effect on Surma and Mursi familial and inter-tribal economies. Communal and celebratory activities of social bonding have morphed into compulsory and transactional acts for money from foreign photographers engaged in what Susan Sontag has termed: “the predatory nature of the photographic act.”

And yet, without these photos I probably would have never learned about the Surma or Mursi. The tragic irony is not lost on me.

But perhaps no force has been more disruptive or destabilizing to the people of the Omo Valley than the construction of The Gibe III dam. The hydroelectric dam is part of a long term economic growth and development strategy of the Ethiopian government. While the project will provide the country with valuable localized power and potentially lucrative power exports, its massive footprint has had massively negative effects on the indigenous populations in the Valley.

Tribes like the Surma and Mursi have depended on the waters now captured by the dam, for their fishing, animal grazing and farming needs. The floods from the Omo River (which the Dam now controls) once fed the many lakes and ponds in the valley, which in turn fed the livestock, wild game and vegetation the Omo Valley people live off of. As the lakes dry, competition and conflict for the dwindling natural resources is all but inevitable.

State authorities have attempted to mitigate intra-tribal conflict through trainings and “peace conferences”. Yet, it is the state’s re-appropriation of tribal lands for their own commercial agrarian projects that is the major cause of the conflict to begin with.

Many local and international environmental groups have come out against the dam due to it’s negative environmental and social impacts and have called the project's environmental and social impact assessment “insufficient”.

For the Ethiopian Government, the potential economic and industrial benefits of the dam far outweighed the costs. For the people of the Omo Valley, however, who never gave their free, prior, or informed consent to the State to reappropriate their ancestral lands and waterways, there is little to no benefit to be had, only a looming environmental crises that could threaten their very existence.

CONNECTING THE DOTS

I’m sure you’re starting to pick up the pattern here. In each case study minority groups of indigenous people, deeply connected to the land through heritage and ritual, fight to preserve their ecologies and ways of life, in the face foreign, militaristic, and/or governmental incursion looking to exploit their land and people for profit.

I do not see these people, their creative practices, or their dire situations as being coincidental. Rather, I see them all as being indicative of a crossroads humanity now stands upon.

In one direction lies the greed of opportunistic looters, authoritarian regimes and unregulated, exploitative technologies. And in the other, these painted people, literal people of color, who’s stewardship, customs, and way of life stand in direct opposition, and therefore are at risk of displacement and destruction.

Sure, it may not be as cut and dry as I am making it. Nothing ever is. But the more I research traditions of body decoration, and the people, places and histories behind them, the more pervasive and consistent this inequitable power dynamic become. And it is not just relegated to far-away places.

One need look only as far as North Dakota and Montana here in the US, to be reminded of the struggles of the Standing Rock and Rosebud Sioux Tribes (each with its own tradition of body decoration) standing up against the Dakota Access and Keystone Pipelines.

In the words of 2Pac “All around the world, same song”

ME

And then there’s me. If it wasn’t clear on which side of that crossroads I stand, each MassQ I create adds clarity. My practice, coupled with an ever deepening appreciation and connection to the natural world, has only doubled my resolve to continue my work, however unorthodox it may seem.

I hold no notion that my MassQing is the same as the traditions practiced by those I’ve discussed. In fact, I know it is not. I am coming at this from an entirely different cultural, and geographic position. Neither am I arguing that all the peoples and traditions discussed are the same, or that they should be romanticized as being utopian.

I am arguing, however, that the spirit from which all of these body decorating traditions emerge is a decidedly human one, unequivocally inspired by the connection and responsibility we humans have to our local environments and each other.

These people who paint, and their traditions, cannot be separated from the roles they play as stewards over the land. We cannot marvel at their artistry without also grappling with their struggles. Or learning from their ways.

They have been able to establish social orders based on collective and communal kinship, in alignment with the ecosystems that sustain them. Their customs, rituals, and ceremonies do more than decorate. They direct systems of belonging. They distinguish elders as contributive, and cared-for members of society. They accompany rites of passage and courtship ceremonies that harness youthful energy toward maturation. They hold cosmologies and world views that balance familial and individual needs with the the greater needs of the community and world. Encoded in their pigments is the sacred knowledge of ancestors passed down from generation to generation for tens of thousands of years.

It is important. It is sacred. It is beautiful, and needed. Now more than ever.

If my work can play any part in honoring these people, their causes, cultures and contributions, than I can be assured this MassQing thing is still worth doing.

Sincerely,

-Daniel

∞

PS finding ways to support these folk and their struggles has been a challenge. While I tend to be suspicious of NGO’s they are often the only reputable orgs I can find that are connected to these populations.

Below is a link to the Kayapó Project, a conservation effort that assists the Mẽbêngôkre in monitoring and protecting their lands from goldmining, logging and encroachment by ranchers: https://kayapo.org/donate/

Sources for this share:

1. Marina Silva on Flávio Bolsonaro: He will try to finish his father’s ‘perverse project’ to destroy the Amazon
   by Tom Phillips in Rio de Janeiro
   The Guardian, October 10, 2026

2. Brazil sees record fall in Amazon deforestation as key election looms
   By Ione Wells, Americas correspondent and Joel Guinto
   BBC, October 15, 2026

3. The Kayapo Project: https://kayapo.org

4. Following visit from Angelina Jolie, Brazilian Kayapó Chief Raoni meets Lula, warns against oil drilling

   By Thiago Alves

   Brazil Reports, April 5, 2025

5. Nuba in Sudan
   Minority Rights

6. People of the Nuba Tribe: Astonishing Images of the Nuba Peoples of Sudan taken in the 70’s

   By Uzonna Anele

   Talk Africana, April 2, 2021

7. Worlds Apart South East Nuba
   Chris Curling
   BBC, Sep 3, 1982

8. Operation Broken Silence

9. The Nuba Mountains: A Window into the Sudan Crisis
   By Daniel P. Sullivan
   Refugees International August 22, 2024

10. Sudan: SPLM-N - Gold Potentially Ignites Fighting in Kauda and Blue Nile
    All Africa, 10 October 2026 (first reported by Ayin Network)

11. Indigenous Peoples vs. Gibe III Dam

    Pastoralists groups in Ethiopia risk losing access to water and land resources because of a dams being built along the Omo river.
    By Hawine Eticha

    January 28, 2026

12. See a Massive Dam’s Big Impacts on Tribal Communities
    By Laura Parker (Photographs by Fausto Podavini)
    National Geographic, September 26, 2017

13. Picture story: how photographing the Omo Valley people changed their lives
    By Matilda Temperley
    The Guardian, May 24, 2015

14. Natural Fashion: Tribal Decoration from Africa
    By Hans Silvester
    Thames & Hudson, April 28, 2008

15. It’s Not Over - Standing Rock was never just about the pipeline. It’s about an existential fight against the corporate interests who would sacrifice people and the planet on the altar of short-term gain.
    By Susan Matthews and Christian Hansen
    Slate, Dec. 11 2016

This is Lebron James. He plays basketball. He’s pretty good at it.

In fact, I don’t care what side of the barbershop argument you’re on, it is irrefutable now that he will go down as one of the greatest basketball players to ever play the game. Whether he’s your top 1, 2, or 5 (really?) doesn’t matter, his greatness is undeniable.

The other day he dropped this gem on what “greatness” really is:

It occurred to me that many people (and when I say “people”, I mean ME up till this point) don’t realize how greatness works.

That it is less of a characteristic and more of a standard; one that must permeate all aspects in order to be authentic. And thats what makes it so hard.

People want to be great without great sacrifice, without facing great challenges that require great patience, great faith, great discipline and effort. People want greatness without great loss, without great struggle, without great adversity. To live a great life means that all aspects of it are great, even the parts we don’t like, the parts we wish were easier, less extra, more normal...

And then there’s the why; why be great in the first place? To what end? For what cause?

Is it just an ego thing?

For me, for a while, it was. Growing up I wanted to be a basketball star, a rock star, a world renown artist - touching greatness in whatever craft I was currently obsessed with because underneath it all was the desire to prove that I mattered. That I was special. That I was “enough”.

I, I, I...

“I” am no longer what drives me to greatness.

I seek greatness because this man-made world we have created, is greatly out of alignment. Because there is great suffering, great inequity, injustice and distraction. And only great change can change that. Not small change, not meek or half measures, but great change.

The silver lining in all the great challenges we face is that there is an equally great potential for something greater to evolve from them. From us.

So I no longer seek greatness for myself, I seek it for the moment, not because I want it, but because it is what is needed.

And most importantly, I don’t have to be the greatness I just have to be determined to be part of it - that greatness being a greater cause, greater than me, or you, or us (vs them), or profit, or power, or ego.

Or comfort.

This year I am learning to be comfortable with being uncomfortable.

Because as Bron said; “Work needs to be done, and I’m ready to put the work in.”

∞

PS I’m giving an Artist Talk in Boston tomorrow, Friday Oct 2nd, at the the closing of my solo show “U-N-I-O-N” at the Substation Gallery in Roslindale.

Click below for more info and to RSVP!

RSVP

Boston peeps, I’m coming back to check in.

B-Day Artist Talk

Friday October 2nd, I will be giving an Artist Talk for the closing of my solo exhibition “U-N-I-ON” at the Substation in Roslindale. If you haven’t seen the show, haven’t seen me in a lil while, or would like to get a sneak peak of the new stuff I’m working on, you’ll get a chance to do all the above that evening at 7pm.

I mentioned in a previous share how important this particular show is to me, not just because of its association with my union ceremony, but because of the many people and moments represented in it. I’m hype to share, for the first time, the inspiration and stories behind each piece.

The final cherry on top is, that in addition to the artist talk and exhibition, I will be celebrating my 42nd birthday.

That’s right, come join me in bringing in my Jackie Robinson year by clicking the link below to RSVP:

RSVP

The Numerology of 42

Birthdays are one of the few occasions when I allow the pseudoscience of numerology free reign over my critical thought, diving headfirst into the deliciously unverifiable prophesies of digits, decimals and dates.

What I come away with is more a reflection of what I wish to be, rather than any universal truth. But that’s ok. It’s a fun way to help decide how I will approach this new year of life.

So humor me as I delve into the esoteric mysteries of 42:

In numerology, one always uses the reduction of a number, which is the sum of its digits. 42 reduces to 4 + 2 which equals 6. The meaning behind the numbers 4 (dependability, tradition, service oriented and loyalty), 2 (unity, cooperation, support, intuition and harmony), and 6 (love, care, compassion, protection and romance) are all important in deciphering the overall meaning of the number 42.

According to AffinityNumerology.com:

All jokes aside, that is alarmingly spot on…

In marrying and moving, my ideas of home and family have expanded both literally and figuratively. With a new set of parents, siblings, and relatives my tribe has essentially doubled in size. And “home”, has now been stretched some 680 miles south, to include the residence of one of those new relatives who has graciously offered to host until we find our own place in this new home state.

But that doesn’t negate the home I feel with family and friends back in Boston.

Home has never been any one specific place for me anyway, its always been more of a dynamic, a way of relating and connecting. The truly grounded and aligned take home with them, and find it wherever they may go.

That second part of the numerological analysis, about “assisting individuals and communities with their goals”, describes exactly the new approach I’ve begun to take with my practice. Along with my own work I have increasingly begun offering 1-on-1 coaching sessions and professional development workshops for artists and creatives. I’ve also begun consulting with organizations and institutions around the same desire to assist and facilitate. Instead of clamoring for opportunities or trying to take up (and over) spaces, I’m entering this new chapter of life with ears and mind open, to what folks are already doing, and how I might support and add on.

This has meant meeting with artists, arts administrators and policymakers in both MA and NC to better learn what artists and art communities do, need and aspire to, and how I can be of service. It’s an approach that in the past I may have been too young, hungry or self involved to take, but one I am already finding to be not only more humane, but effective, impactful and welcomed. People are generally more open, honest and generous when they see you are actually interested in them, and not just what they can do for you.

New Connections

This approach (along with the assists from Angela Lombardi and Triangle Art Works) has already led me to connect with some pretty dope, like-minded people:

Folks like Georgia Tardy, a Raleigh based painter, graphic designer, muralist and educator whose transformed her backyard into an Artist Lounge providing much needed exhibition and event space for local artists and creatives of all disciplines.

Folks like Aaron Thaddeus, an experience director whose creative studio Two Dots helps mission-driven organizations tell their stories and amplify their impact through innovative marketing strategy, gorgeous audio/visual production, and effective content creation.

And folks like Derrick Beasley, a Durham-raised photographer, painter, installation artist and community organizer whose work includes a Black Farmers Market & CSA, a roving artist portrait series, and a recent solo exhibit exploring the speculative non-fiction of what it will take for us to survive ecological and socio-political disaster.

Conversing with these creatives has already provided a wellspring of inspiration and knowledge and I look forward to continuing to build with them and many others in the triangle area and beyond.

…And it’s only week 3 of being out here, and 11 days until year 41 becomes 42, and 12 days 11 hours and 43 minutes until I get to celebrate it all with my 617 folk at the Substation on 4228 Washington street.

I’m liking those numbers.

∞

Will you be in the number?
RSVP now to the Exhibition Closing/Birthday Celebration:

Artist Talk & B-Day RSVP

My last share brought some big news. This one brings even more.

As some of you may already know, my partner and I have decided to move to North Carolina.

It may seem a bit out of the blue, but the decision comes from a long process of soul and strategy searching… in addition to the inevitability of change.

Up to this point I had never stayed anywhere as long as I had in Boston. As a kid my family moved a lot, and as an adult, career student, and victim of a two-party political system, I’ve pretty much been trained to move on from things every 4 years.

And yet, 2026 marked the 15th consecutive year of living in “the Bean.” an inconceivably long run for a nomad such as myself.

To what can I attribute such a surprisingly long stay?

Well, I have to give credit where it’s due; despite my initial reservations, Boston has proven to be a wellspring of opportunities and relationships that have kept me in the commonwealth far longer than I had ever expected or planned.

But eventually, change catches up to us all. And this year it caught up with me.

These past few weeks I’ve undergone the initiation rite of cross-country relocation. And now, on the other side of it (and the Mason Dixon line), I’ve got a few reflections to share:

Free

Part of moving process is assessing your possessions, and deciding which will come, and which must go.

Yes, we tried the whole Marie Kondo thing, but by the end of it, as the Uhaul driver was literally rolling down our street in a forklift to take our moving pods away, our process had devolved into a desperate scramble to jam whatever would fit into whatever space was left.

There was a corner desk in our office we knew we weren’t going to take. So instead of paying to have it junked, we decided we’d put it outside with a sign saying “free” to see if anyone would take it off our hands.

While making the sign, it occurred to me this word “free” held multiple meanings. Yes, it meant the desk was free of charge, but it also meant that I was now free from it. Free from having to worry about how it would fit in our shipping container. Free from having to carry it to and fro. Free from having to think about it ever again.

Before I could even finish writing the word “free” on the sign I’d taped to the table a passerby stopped to enquire about it. A few minutes later and the table was gone. And I realized yet another implication of the word “free”. In giving the table such a label I had set it free as well. Free from my disinterest, free from being junked, free to have another life, in another place, in service to someone else. With one word, all three of our realities (mine, the passerby’s, and the table) had changed for the better - a win-win-win.

As I continue to reflect on this move, I am reminded of how liberating it can be to start afresh somewhere new. It’s a chance to re-lease, re-define and re-imagine all that is possible.

And that with all this change is the opportunity for me to change for the better.

Transitions

All that being said, I still struggle with transitions.

I’m a groove guy. HipHop, Soul, Reggae, R&B… I like music that settle into a groove and sticks with it.

Changing melodies, lyrics, and breakdowns can keep things interesting, but that 4-bar, 8-bar, 16-bar loop keeps me grounded, keeps me steady, keeps the beat.

Just like with my music, I like when life can finds a groove and stick to it. Provide that consistent rhythm I can improvise on top of, or just vibe out along with.

Even when I find myself in grooves I don’t like, their sheer predictability allows the development of coping mechanisms and mitigation strategies, that can get me by and get through.

But switching things up, changing the groove, the song, the vibe, means having a moment of destabilization where we can’t feel the rhythm and don’t know what’s coming next.

And all our coping mechanisms are useless. And we’re back at square one. Step one, without a two-step to step to, or a downbeat to get down on.

How do you move, without a groove?

It’s like having your favorite song come to an end, and something new come on in its place - something strange that you’ve never heard before. Or maybe, it’s not a song at all, but the unnerving emptiness of silence. What then?

Well, if we continue with this metaphor of a dance party there’s only but two things one can do;

Stop... and Listen.

Yet we often forget the power of these two actions.

We fear if we stop we’ll fall behind, or be forgotten. If we listen, we won’t be heard, or like what we hear.

But it is often only through stillness and observation that the way is made clear.

I find it fitting, in this autumnal season of changing leaves and changing weather, that my life would undergo similar transformation. The change has forced me out of my groove, beyond my comfort zone, into the unknown. Everything in my life is now somewhere else, including me.

And it’s made me stop. And its made me listen.

On August 27th and 28th, mere days before the end of our lease, and flight to Raleigh, a near total lunar eclipse occurred. A “Blood Moon” or so it’s called (when the earth’s shadow shrouds the moon and only light that can reach it is the red light coming from the edge of earth’s atmosphere) signifies in many cultures and spiritual practices a period of great change and transformation. One that calls for deep introspection and cleansing.

The eclipse was only partial, and the moon wasn’t all that red, but the message was heard loud and clear.

A time of change is on its way, and so too are we.

Dear Boston - An open letter

Dear Boston,

First off, this is not a goodbye.

But as I load the last items into the Uhaul, and stare at the bare apartment floors…

As my ticket is scanned at a Logan gate…

and the plane lifts off…

and the clouds converge…

there has to be something I can say…

When I first came home some 15 years ago, I was not looking forward to seeing you.

The last time I had come it was for a funeral - a tragedy I have never fully forgiven you for.

But despite my feelings toward you, you welcomed me with ease, and to my surprises, became the haven I hadn’t known I needed.

Your space made space for me to heal and reconnect with my roots.

Your youth provided purpose I had struggled to find on my own. (I’d spend the next 8 years attempting to return the favor).

Your schools brought me back to the classroom, through both learning and teaching, to master one’s art for greater good.

Your local programs and initiatives helped me out of debt, and into business.

Communities opened their doors, took a chance and showed love, supporting my ideas like they were their own. Because we had come up with them together.

You were more than just a city. You were the backdrop to my films, the venue for my exhibitions and shows, the forests and trails for my walks and meditation.

I can honestly say I grew up with you. Not the growing-up you do as a child, but that later-in-life kind of growth - that “thought you was grown, but found out there was more” kind of growth.

There are still parts of you I don’t like - the cliquiness, the inequity, the progressiveness you claim without the progress at times to prove it. I pray the reality of your citizenry catches up to the ideals of your marketing. And that the ideals of your rhetoric match the content of your policies.

I wish the same for America as a whole, and myself as a part. I trust we can continue to hold each other accountable to that.

Dear Boston,

You should know you aren’t rid of me yet. There is still work to do, and relationships to build.

But I want to take this time to thank you, for being what you are - the parts I love and the parts I don’t, because they have all contributed to the man I am, and the path I’m on, and I am content with both.

So this is me giving you thanks.

And not a goodbye.

Because this isn‘t an exit, it’s an expansion. A way to extend ourselves and our services to more and more people, throughout the country and world. Trust I will be back for holidays, for visits, for work and for fun. Life is all about relationships and I plan on continuing ours.

This isn’t a “goodbye”, it’s a “till then”.

Till then, be blessed. Till then, be strong.

Till then, be art.

Sincerely,

-Daniel

∞

As members of my core, paid subscribers list, you are part of an exclusive inner circle that makes this newsletter possible. All the notes, posts, images and thoughts I’ve shared have been inspired in part by your choice to support me.

So any chance I can get, I want to show you my appreciation. And there’s a chance coming up this weekend that I’ve …

Read more

We say it all the time: Art is important.

Some of us radicals may even say that it is essential - a human right.
But do we really believe that?

With so many other dominant forces like money, military, media & politics throwing their weight around our lives, what real chance, does something like art have?

Well, it depends on what we mean when we say “art”.

If we’re talking about the objects on display in museums and galleries, then… I’m not even sure I as an artist think we have a chance. Art as a product is like any other product in a market - fully dependent on the mechanics of supply and demand, industry opinion, and those same dominant forces outlined in the previous paragraph.

That doesn’t sound all that powerful to me.

But, if we are talking about the human capacity to express, the human ability to manifest imagination into reality, and the human need to transform what is, into what could be? Then, I would say, you are onto something.

Because when you think about it, how do all those previously mentioned dominant forces maintain their hold on our society? Is it not through the stories they tell, and the stories we then tell ourselves?

Is not storytelling one of the most elemental of art forms?

How do these governments, militaries, corporations and politicians get us to believe in their power? Through exhibitions, performances, pomp and circumstance, photos, video, movies, reporting, literature - essentially, the arts.

When we realize that Art is the primary force painting our world views, illustrating our truths, and framing our perspectives, then it’s easy to see how powerful it really is.

Art indeed has changed the world, it is changing the world right now, and will be what shapes the world to come. Because art is all about shaping materials and ideas into something new.

Whether you believe man was made on the 6th day, or over millions of years of evolution the artistic process of creation is the same. We were formed from what we were not, into what we are, through a system of intelligent change.

Art, like religion, like technology, is only as good as those who wield it. When art becomes anything other than the honest expression of the inner creative spirit, it becomes design, when design is used to transfer information it becomes communication, when communication becomes unidirectional it becomes propaganda, and when that propaganda seeks only to manipulate and coerce, it becomes oppression.

But in its rawest and purest form, art is liberating. It elevates the consciousness to all parties involved - which is precisely why art and oppression are always in conflict. They cannot co-exist, for one eventually destroys the other.

So for those of us on the side of liberation, the directive is clear:

I am one of those who believes any process can be elevated into an art form when it engages the following :

1. The human capacity to express

2. The human ability to manifest imagination into reality

3. The human urge to transform what is, into what could be.

I would add a fourth, which perhaps is what powers three: The human need to connect. Connect with self, community, god, reality etc. In this way, art is no different than worship, no different then service, no different than love.

When we think of “changing the world” I imagine two approaches.

One is the manipulative change that looks to move mountains, control resources, influence governments, markets and people, and impose itself on all of the above.

This is exerting change.

The other is the embodied change - It is an approach, not of moving the mountains but scaling them, and enjoying the journey and views that their height alone can afford. It is the recognition that we each are a composite of this world, and so, through our own change our world is changed as well. That through influencing our own transformation, we inspire it in all that surrounds us.

This is being change.

But there I go again, with my idealistic poetics…

When it’s 3am and you’ve just heard reports of another bomb dropped on innocent civilians, another statement from our government full of lies, another Black teen disappeared, another bill increase while trillionaires triple their net worth… it gets hard to think about art, let alone the change it can make.

But it’s in those moments, and in that time, when our capacity to express, our ability to manifest, our urge to transform and need to connect may be both all we have left, and all we’ve ever needed.

Gonna keep this one short & sweet as I’m sure you’ve got a lot of other things on your plate.

A while back I wrote down a goal that I’d like to have enough work to do multiple shows at once. To do so would mean; 1) that I had built up a body of work, 2) that I had generated enough desire for that work to be featured in multiple places, and 3) that I had the inventory, storage and operations system in place to make that happen.

Like most goals, it took a lot longer than I had thought, but I’m happy to say that I indeed am now doing multiple solo shows at once, which I am excited to share with you:

Show #1: “U-N-I-O-N” @ The Substation

My show “U-N-I-O-N” is now up in the main hallway on the lower level of the Substation in Roslindale.

What’s made this show all the sweeter is that it opened a month before my actual Union Ceremony took place in the same venue. Shout out to Adam Rogoff, Laura Charles, Vickie Spiess and the rest of the team at the Substation for hosting pretty much everyone and everything I love.

“U-N-I-O-N” is up from now till September, if you haven’t been to the Substation its worth the trip by itself for the enormous Bay windows, local craft beer, and sleek workspaces, but right now you also get to see some new pieces by yours truly.

Tell em I sent ya!

Show #2: @ The Jazz Urbane Cafe

Guys, Jazz Urbane Cafe is finally here!

While it hasn’t yet officially opened, this multimedia performance venue and restaurant in Nubian Square has been hosting a series of pre-opening events these last few weeks featuring local and international artists and performers.

Folks like Grammy Award winning drummer and composer, Terri Lyne Carrington, hometiown favorite Gregory Groover, Grammy Award winning acapella group Take 6, renown visual artist Paul Goodnight, NAACP Image award winner Tavis Smiley aaaand…

Yep, that’s right. I am very honored to be one of the first visual artists to show work in this already historic space in Boston’s cultural hub.

You can catch my work and remarkable Jazz Pianist and composer Jesse Taite today from 10:30 AM – 2:00pm along with brunch from Executive Chef Guara Pimenta.

That’s fine music, fine dining and fine art all in one sitting.

For tickets and info about all upcoming events visit Jazzurbanecafe.com

Show #3 (sort of): Marketing Workshop for A4A

Ok so, this one isn’t really a show, but I will def be going live for my “Staying Authentic While Marketing Your Work” online workshop for Assets for Artists and the Arts Action Consortium this August 6th.

The workshop is definitely picking up steam, with over 150 registrants signing up for this 50 person (max) online workshop!

And I get it, marketing anything is tough but doing it authentically? Is that even possible? Yes… and no… well… it’s why I dedicated a whole 2-hour workshop toward unpacking that.

SO I guess I’ll just have to find a way to do it again and be sure to share here before it goes public so you can sign up and find out for yourself.

Till then,

∞

I know you haven’t heard from me in a while. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say, its that I had this come up:

I know… Me… Crazy, huh?

It’s not often that you get a chance to change your life by welcoming someone into it.

10 years ago I got my chance, and as crazy as it felt, I took it.

In turn it’s taken me to heights I never knew possible. Like this past Saturday, July 18th, when family and friends from all phases of life gathered to help me and my partner celebrate the life-changing chance we’d taken on each other.

Out of the 15,273 days I’ve been alive, last Saturday’s gotta be one of the best.

I know…
Me.
Crazy, huh?

Had you asked me 10-15 years ago you’d have gotten a raised eyebrow, an incredulous chuckle, a dismissive head shake.

If you’d known me in college, or as a post grad frantically trying to “make it” as an artists, you would have been just as incredulous. I wasn’t marriage material.

To me marriage was something older people did when it was time to settle down - a throwing in of the towel, a cave to the expectations of a bygone tradition.

You have to remember, I was from the generation raised on “Married with Children.”

Marriage was either a total bore or a dismal misery, and more often then not, both.

I was the generation raised in HipHop, where marriage was a rapper’s worst nightmare - a ball in chain, a buzzkill, and apparently, a surefire way of being extorted via state-sanctioned alimony and child support.

Ours was the generation raised on Jerry Springer and Rikki Lake, on the claim that divorce rates outpaced successful marriages (a lie, but a convincing one), on The Bachelor, Love & HipHop and a whole other mess of messy shows showing the mess of marriage. Given all the social programming there was no reason for me to be anything but antagonistic to the idea.

So how’d I get here?

Change. The one thing guaranteed us all.

It wasn’t that I had become that old person looking to settle down (ok, I may be older, but I’m not settling!). It’s more that I’ve come to realize most things I was told in life were for someone else’s benefit, not my own. It was hype, cap, spin, used to sell someone else’s ideas, and serve someone else’s agenda. Even when given in good faith, the perspective of others never quite matched my actual reality. So I began to lean more into my own experience, to tune into history instead of the news, and believe human behavior instead of human promises. I began to develop my own relationship with truth, one based on logic, evidence, study and reflection.

And I changed. I grew up.

If there was one positive thing to come from all the negativity around marriage, it was that it made it less of a distraction for me. I wasn’t looking to get married, wasn’t looking for “the one”, wasn’t looking for anything really, accept artistic inspiration. And I had found that in MassQing.

Coincidentally, MassQing is then what allowed her to find me.

As co-founder of an arts organization dedicated to elevating Black artistry, she had initially reached out to explore a potential collaboration around my work. And on August 25th, 2016, we met at Haley House to discuss. What started as an hour-long meeting turned into two... and a half... And when I finally got up to leave, the restaurant manager gave me this look like: "Who was that?"

And I was like... yeah... who was that?

We eventually did end up collaborating - an installation entitled “Communion” at the Resnikoff gallery at RCC (shout out to Mirta, Marshall and Pam). I showed my visual art, and after sitting to be MassQed, she shared her musical art (because in addition to being a co-founder and artistic director, she also happened to be a world class violist).

And from that point on, it was on and poppin’.

I knew I had struck something real with MassQing. I hadn’t dreamed it would reel in a life partner. But that’s how goodness works, it attracts itself.

She had seen my work, what I was about, and had appreciated it. Then she set about making it appreciate, because that was what she was about - elevating Black artistry. Our purposes had pulled us together.

Since then we’ve partnered on a great number of things from MassQ Balls, to movies, to countless memories. It hasn’t always been a cakewalk, but what I’ve consistently found is the more I put into our relationship, the more I got out of it, and the better we both became. And that’s saying a lot because I think I may have stumbled upon one of the most beautiful humans I have ever encountered.

Who wouldn’t change for that?

I can be hardheaded, set in my ways even, but I’m no fool. When you hit the jackpot, you leave the casino.

We named that 1st exhibition we did together at RCC “Communion” because many of the subjects of my MassQs were members of my family and community. A decade later, when scouting for a venue for our ceremony, we came across The Substation in Roslindale. In addition to having a scenic first floor perfect for our reception, they also had a gallery. And as if on cue, my partner immediately began pitching my work, just as she had done at RCC. And naturally, just like before, they agreed. So, 10 years after that first collaboration we again joined forces. This time it was more than just a communion of family and friends. This time it was a union of lives. And so “Union” is what we called it.

And in addition to the many pieces shown in this new exhibition is is this pièce de résistance:

Change can be scary, awkward, disorienting, even painful at times. But it can also be beautiful, liberating, and healing too. And without it, nothing would survive.

We are all here because something changed.

This certainly is a season of change for me, with much more on the way that I look forward to sharing with you soon. But for now, I just want to be here, in this moment of celebration, of growth, commitment, courage and change - by love, for love, with love.

Sincerely,

-Daniel

I played a lot of sports growing up. Soccer, basketball, lacrosse, track. If you were on my team, or came to any of my games, then you knew my father. Or I should say, you knew his voice. Because every time I got the ball, or made a play, everyone on the field, or in the gym, would hear that voice, yelling:

And he didn’t just yell it. He’d kinda say-it/sing-it, you know? With that classic, Baptist-preacher delivery.

There simply was no other voice like it.

My coaches would smirk. My teammates would chuckle. At practice they’d try and mimic his soulful exclamations, and I’d laugh at their feeble attempts.

Someone would invariably ask if it ever got to me, if I was ever embarrassed by my father’s distinctive vocalizations, and I’d just smile and shake my head.

They couldn’t have known.

They weren’t there on Sunday, when that voice would utter the word of God – would call down angels and send up praises like Jacob’s ladder. They weren’t in attendance when it would command entire congregations, have them hanging on every syllable and intonation. Would have folks stand to their feet, hand raised, yelling their own exclamations:

My father’s voice could go from a deep rumble, to a soaring, straight-from-the-gut wail, to a full-on Gospel croon, all in one sentence. Make folks run up and down the aisle some days. Grown folk, in their best Sunday attire.

So to hear that voice, that baritone-to-tenor, mouthpiece of the most high, bellowing my name from the sideline? Shiiiit, I was ready to run through a brick wall.

Book it the entire length of that field, like those folks down them aisles.

Every “Oh yeah!” and “Go Dan!” was like a power-up, propelling me toward greater and greater acts of athleticism and will.

I was fast. But when my dad was edging me on from the sideline, I was a blur.

Embarrassed? Nah. That voice, was my secret weapon.

Now-a-days I don't really play sports anymore (something I’d like to change). But that voice still comes to my aid every now and then. It doesn’t have to yell these days, now we just talk. But after each conversation I still feel that battery in my back, and know it’s been fully charged.

It’s hard to put into words how important it’s been, having your voice, hearing those words of encouragement, knowing they were from you – standing on the sidelines, and in the audience (when I’ve commanded my own), and in my corner, through all these years. We haven't always seen eye to eye, and there’ve been times our relationship’s frayed. But I’ve always known where you stood, and more importantly, who you stood for.

And no matter what field I’ve found myself on, or in, I know it’s your voice that I hear rooting for me from the sidelines.

There’s simply no other voice like it.

Happy father’s day Pops, and to all the other fathers and father-figures speaking life into their kids.

It marked the first of my two free MassQing Workshops at the Shaw-Roxbury Branch Library in Nubian Square.

Folks came from across the city (over 5 zip codes) to share, engage, and transform. And though the MassQs and experiences created were priceless, none of those attendees had to pay a dime.

Because these MassQ workshops are free and open to the public.

But of course, when I say “free” that’s not entirely accurate.

In a society such as ours where almost everything has a price (that seems to keep going up), few things are truly “free”. Someone had to pay for the workshop materials, the labor to create and run the workshop, the space/venue where it was to be held, and the marketing and promotion of the event itself so folks would even know to come. None of these things were free.

So how then can a scrappy little artist like me afford to give “free” workshops?

One word: Partnership.

I alone cannot, but by partnering with other people, organizations and initiatives who share my desire to make art more accessible, we collectively can.

I want to give a huge shout out the Fellowes Athenaeum Trust Fund Program Series for offering grants to organizations and artists such as myself so that we can provide free programming for the community at the Shaw-Roxbury Library.

Their grant covers all the hidden costs for this “free” workshop so my participants don’t have to.

Without that support these workshops would not be possible.

I also want to shout out Deandra Williams, Allen Knight and the rest of the staff at the Shaw-Roxbury Branch Library, as well as the late great Candelaria Silva-Collins for their work managing the program series, in addition to the countless other ways they contribute to the lifeblood of our city.

Libraries are one of the most important institutions for a healthy society. And the Shaw-Roxbury Branch is a beautiful example of that. Where else can you take a yoga class, a Hip-Hop dance workshop, a comic book creation course, catch classical and jazz concerts, learn to sew, cook, read, drum, all while gaining access to thousands of books for free?

And that’s only a fraction of what they have to offer.

In this economy we can all understand the importance of free offerings. But it’s just as important to recognize and honor the generosity and hard work behind making those offerings possible. So thanks again to The F.A.T.F. Program, the staff at the Shaw-Roxbury Branch of the BPL, the paid subscribers of this newsletter, and all the attendees who came out to make yesterday’s workshop the beautiful moment it was.

If you would like to experience MassQing (free of charge) click the link below to sign up for our next workshop, May 30th from 1-3pm!

RSVP FOR 5/30 MASSQ WORKSHOP

∞

Share

As a kid, the last thing you’d ever want to be called was a mama’s boy.

It meant that you had not evolved past the stage of dependence on your progenitor. And as a boy, having such a close association with your mom could pose a challenge to your maleness. So being a mama’s boy was something to be avoided at all costs.

But even as a child I knew all that was bullshit.

Besides, I couldn’t have cared less. I loved me my mama. She was kind, smart, tough, caring AND pretty. Why would anyone not want to be associated with that.

But high school came and after that college. And the distance (at least geographically) between my mother and I would grow until we found ourselves on opposites ends of the country. Our lives seemed worlds apart. Which was fine by me - I was living it up, chasing my dreams, doing it big and enjoying the ride.

It wasn’t till a few years later, in the spring of 2011, that that “ride” dropped me back off on the East coast, lost, heartbroken and unsure of what to do next.

I was back to square one.And there was only one person I knew that I could bring myself to call.

Mama

And even though at the time it felt like a huge step backward, returning home proved to be the first step toward all that I am doing now.

So much would come from that humble re-beginning; the business, the degree, the filmmaking, the show… But even more importantly, the growth. In direct opposition to all I had learned as a kid, it turned out returning home to my Mom’s was what allowed me to becoming the Man I am today.

Without her support during that challenging time in life, I don’t know where I would have ended up. But I know I wouldn’t want to know.

It was in her home that I began to MassQ, at least in the way I do now - first as a self therapy and then as a self expression. Naturally, she would become one of my first subjects.

During that time our relationship deepened. She became a roommate, a road dog, a friend. We helped each other get out of debt, and get out of our own ways. Turns out she had been going through some things too, so we were able to commiserate, co-MassQ, co-heal…

It’s amazing how the universe works out like that.

Now-a-days we are no longer roommates, but I still make sure to drop by every now and then to check in. Shovel some snow, pick up mail, catch a basketball game, shoot the breeze. Whatever excuse I can come up with to stop by.

What can I say, I’m Mama’s Boy, through and through.

And you know, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Happy Mother’s Day Mama,

w/ love.

-Your son

∞

PS…

Want to try your hand at MassQing?
There are still a few slots available for my two MassQing Workshops happening at the Roxbury Branch of the Boston Public Library on Saturday May 23rd and 30th.

The workshops are free but space is limited and attendees must RSVP in advance.
To reserve your spot click below:

RSVP FOR MASSQ WORKSHOP

--

I love movies... well… I love good movies… which really means, I love movies I think are good.

That love led me to pursue a Masters degree in Film & Video from Emerson College, which had me watching even more movies, and learning the craft of the directors who made them.

There are many wonderful parallels between making a movie and making a life, and I’ve often turned to the wisdom of cinephiles to inform my approach to both, with generally good results.

Below are a few examples:

Slow Down

Perhaps best known for his writing (particularly the films Taxi Driver and Raging Bull) Paul Schrader is also a director in his own right. One of his best directed films, in my opinion, is the 2017 psychological thriller First Reformed.

“Thriller” may be a bit of a force, the film is much more of a slow burn. But, as Paul’s advice reminds us:

“Good things happen when you slow down.”

It was true with First Reformed, which despite its slow pace became Schrader’s most lauded directorial effort, and it’s true for most other things in life.

When we slow down we become more present. When we slow down, we become more steady. When we slow down, we can enjoy the moment that is happening in front of us.

But our modern technology and lifestyles have sped us up so much. From trains, planes and automobiles to fiber optics and microchips the need for speed has permeated every facet of our culture. Speed has become synonymous with progress, power, success and freedom. The logic being, if we can can do things faster, we can make more, work less, and have more free time to enjoy.

But what if that’s wrong?

Play a film at 5x its speed and it only makes it shorter and harder to appreciate. The same goes for life. Cars may make travel faster, but when everyone has one, we all end up in traffic. Fast food may save you time on meal prep, but it’ll most likely shorten your lifespan. High-speed internet may bring the digital world to us in an instant, but all the while our actual world is passing us by.

In our rush to avoid missing out on things, we miss the opportunity to be present for them. In our fear of being left behind, we abandon our own peace of mind.

All this to say, perhaps being as fast as a speeding bullet isn’t the silver bullet we all thought it was.

Why then, do we rush?

I wonder if our addiction to speed is due to our dissatisfaction with where we are.

We wish to speed thru the hard parts, skip the mundanity, and leap-frog the struggle. But by slowing down the patience, resilience, experience and appreciation will reveal the lessons within these things. And the beauty too.

Go Hard

Speaking of NOT speeding through the hard parts, German filmmaker and photographer Wim Wenders gives the exact opposite advice by encouraging us to “tackle the tough stuff first”.

Wenders’ film credits include Wings of Desire, the documentary Buena Vista Social Club and my favorite - Paris, Texas. Released the same year as my birth, Paris, Texas is essentially a road film about a man in search of his baby mama.

While the film and its premise doesn’t have much of a connection to Wenders’ directorial advice (trust me I tried to find one) the film itself is one of the many that inspired me to make my own. And it was in the process of making my own feature that the wisdom behind Wenders’ advice became clear.

When scheduling principle photography for my feature film Come On In, both my AD and Producer suggested we shoot the sequence that bookends the movie on the first day of filming. It seemed completely counterintuitive. This sequence was going to be by far the most complicated, labour intensive and potentially dangerous shot in the entire film. The shot required us to rent out an entire YMCA swimming pool, sink two giant black tarps to black out the walls and floor of the pool, rent scuba diving equipment and set up several massive HMI lights angled down onto the water to light the shot. As you know, electricity and water don’t mix. If any of the lights were to fall into the pool, anyone in the water (me, my DP, lifeguard and camera OP) would be electrocuted instantly.

My Gaffer held all of our lives in his hands. My life guard held mine in his.

Because, you see, I can’t swim.

As a child I nearly drowned in a public pool one summer when visiting my cousins (a tale for another time). Ever since then, any stressful situation in life has brought back that memory of sinking underwater. The experience became a life-long metaphor for panic. And so when I went to write this film, about an artist suffering a mental crisis, I knew exactly how I’d show it. Him drowning. It was perfect…

…Until the writer in me realized, that the director in me had cast the actor in me to play the lead, which meant my no-swimming ass would need to get back into a pool and nearly drown, again.

And THIS was what my Producer and AD wanted me to do my first day on the job of shooting my first feature-length film. I thought they were batshit crazy. But I relented. And I thought I was batshit crazy. And I was.

But we did it.

It seems counterintuitive to start with what is the hardest and most difficult. We often want to reach for the lowest hanging fruit, to gain some momentum and work our way up to what is difficult. Starting with something hard may make us give up. May make us push our schedule back. May backfire.

But there is no moment when you will have more motivation, buy-in, energy, and momentum than that first day of shooting. So start with the tough stuff first.

It took us 48 days spread over more than a year to complete principle photography for Come On In. By day #2 I was exhausted. Had we waited till later to shoot that scene, when half my crew had shuffled out, and our budget was nearly all spent, and my professors were all growing concerned, and I could barely remembered why I even wanted to shoot this thing to begin with, we wouldn’t have had a chance in the world to pull that first day’s shoot, and all its prep, off.

Doing that scene was a lot like burning your boats after landing on shore. There was no going back after that, and I imagine that was why My AD and Producer had been so adamant about starting with it. They knew what Wim Wenders did; that by starting with the hardest thing first, you were more likely to get to the end.

Watch Come On In now on Apple TV!

Be Intentional:

There’s that saying: “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” meaning good intentions do not equate to being or doing good. There is often a gap between what we intend and what we actually execute, and the devil is in the details. While there is truth to this, the importance of intention can’t be overstated. Good intentions may not always lead to good results but they certainly do better than bad intentions ever will.

Often the problem is not that our intentions are bad but that they are ambivalent, unclear, underdeveloped. Ava’s advice to zero in on our intention and allow it to guide our behavior, goals and plans, (rather than the other way around) has become so key for me.

Ava DuVernay is as inspirational as it gets. For all the late bloomers out there (me included), Ava didn’t pick up a camera until she was 32. Before then she was creating her own PR firm (The DuVernay Agency) and promotional network (Urban Beauty Collective) made up of over 10,000 African-American beauty salons and barbershops across 20 states. When she did start directing films, she distributed them through her own production company.

Her 2014 film Selma (my personal favorite), depicted the stories of the Black activists at the center of the civil rights movement. The film would be the first directed by a Black woman to be nominated for best picture at the Academy Awards.

She then moved to television show-running the series Queen Sugar, with an all-female directorial team that won multiple NAACP Image Awards for outstanding drama. She followed that up with the Emmy Award-winning Netflix miniseries When They See Us about the exonerated Central Park Five.

DuVernay founded ARRAY, a non-profit independent film collective devoted to distributing and amplifying the works of women and minority filmmakers.

All throughout her work, both on and off screen, is a clear intention to uplift and present the stories, storytellers, and humanity of her people. That focus on intention has lead to an outsized impact on the film industry and the Black community as a whole.

Care

Stanley Kubrick always had a way of making things plain. Not simple, but plain. As cryptic and reserved as he was, the American director had a knack for addressing the most complex subjects such as war, sex, and history through his filmography.

Considered one of the most influential and important filmmakers of the 20th century, Kubrick was known for his meticulous, near obsessive approach to filmmaking. He became notorious for pushing his actors and crew to their brink with his many takes and exacting standards one might assume he was the kind of cruel, apathetic, control freak that gives directors a bad rap. And maybe that’s partly true. But, the more I learned about him the more I saw that his meticulousness came not from apathy but a deep, deep sense of care. Kubrick cared about his craft. He cared about his material and he cared about his audience. That care was unrelenting, but it made him, his films and all those who were involved better. Which perhaps was why, despite his reputation, generational actors such as Marlon Brando, Kurt Douglas, Tom Cruise, Jack Nicholson, And Nicole Kidman all lined up to work with him. The dichotomy is perhaps best expressed by Michael Herr, one of the many screenwriters who worked with Kubrick:

They work with Stanley and go through hells that nothing in their careers could have prepared them for, they think they must have been mad to get involved, they think that they’d die before they would ever work with him again, that fixated maniac; and when it’s all behind them and the profound fatigue of so much intensity has worn off, they’d do anything in the world to work for him again. For the rest of their professional lives they long to work with someone who cared the way Stanley did, someone they could learn from. They look for someone to respect the way they’d come to respect him, but they can never find anybody ... I’ve heard this story so many times.

—  Michael Herr, screenwriter for Full Metal Jacket on actors working with Kubrick.

While I don’t think you have to be maniacal about it, I do think the only way you can be great at anything is if you really care about it.

The world needs people who care.

Be one of them.

∞

A week earlier I held a MassQing workshop at Emmanuel College for their art therapy students where we explored MassQing as an approach to inner work through outer creativity.

And a few weeks before that, I gave my “Staying Authentic While Marketing Your Work” workshop for artists and creatives through Assets for Artists, where I shared tools and strategies around presenting, pitching and promoting one’s art effectively and authentically in both online and in-person spaces.

I love workshops.

Inherent in their name is the notion that folks are coming together to create and engage with one another. The energy generated through collective creativity and story-sharing is electric and contagious. And I love the practical application that a workshop allows. Theory is cool, and concepts can clarify, but nothing beats rolling up your sleeves and getting first-hand experience through doing.

MassQing in May

For folks looking for such an experience, I will be giving not one, but two MassQing workshops the last two Saturdays in May at the Roxbury Branch of the Boston Public Library.

These workshops are free and open to the public (thanks to support from the Fellows of Atheneum Trust Fund), but space is limited and spots are first come first serve.

As community supporters you all get first dibs. So click the link below to sign up and secure your spot now before it opens to the general public:

MASSQ WORKSHOP

Workshop Info
The Face as Canvas: Massing Workshop with Daniel Callahan
Saturday May 23rd and 30th
1-3pm in the Learning Lab
Roxbury Branch of the Boston Public Library
149 Dudley St, Roxbury, MA 02119

Hope to see you there!

∞

Subscribe now

Teamwork indeed makes the dream work, but it begs the question;

How does one build a team?

The answer, at least in my experience, is that you don’t.

Let me explain…

Over the years I’ve tried on several occasions to recruit teams and I’ve almost always come up empty handed. People were either too busy, too expensive, too flakey, or just not that interested in what I was doing.

So, instead of reaching OUT, I reached IN. In on myself, my projects, skills and growth. I became my first teammate.

I learned how I work best, and what I truly believe in. I learned to set clearer boundaries, and more realistic goals. I also started to treat myself better - with less judgement, and more grace.

By putting in the work to develop myself and my practice, I naturally started to do, feel, and be better. Which, naturally, attracted the interest of others. Which leads, quite naturally, to my point:

You don’t build teams, you attract them.

Think Micheal Jordan of the Chicago Bulls, or Tom Brady of the New England Patriots. They are not just the players that perform best, they are the players that make their teams perform best - which in turn, makes others want to play with them. They have a special name for this kind of player - an M.V.P. - a “Most Valuable Player”.

A team is only as good as its MVP. So, if right now, you are the only one on your team, guess who your MVP’s gotta be?

Your ability to incrementally improve over time, will attract others who wish to do the same.

Iron sharpens iron. And when magnetized, iron attracts iron as well.

So, how does one become an M.V.P.?

The answer lies in the acronym.

Yes M.V.P. stands for “Most Valuable Player” but I’d offer that it also stands for:

1) Methods, Values & Principles
2) Mission, Vision & Plan
3) Minimum Viable Product

Every success I’ve enjoyed has come from establishing these MVP’s. They may not guarantee success, but they sure are correlated with it.

So let’s break them down:

MVP’s: Methods, Values & Principles

Methods:

Our methods are how we work best, the medium(s), processes, environments, and approaches that lead to our best work.

Are you an early riser? or night owl?

Do you work best in isolation? or in the company of others? What tools, materials and procedures help you to do and be your best?

For me, I always go back to my Month of the MassQ series. Not only was it a success, it launched my fine art career, and led to all that I am doing now.

So what made it work?

Seven key things;
1) Time/space
2) clarity of vision,
3) freedom to explore,
4) creative restraints
5) emotional & logistic support
6) accountability
7) focus

When I have all seven of these things, my creativity, productivity and impact all kick into high gear. While I may not always have access to all seven, in knowing what they are I know what to look for, what to prioritize, and what to work toward.

Looking back on your own journey, when were you most locked in? What are the things you needed to make your best work? And how can you start prioritizing them now?

Values:

Values are the things in life we most appreciate. The things that make our lives worth living.

They are not what you think you should value, or what society tells you to value, but what you truly treasure.

Values inform our decisions, determine our point of view, and ultimately help shape the lives we live. When my work is aligned with my values I feel energized and fulfilled. When my work is out of alignment with my values I feel regret, guilt, frustration, ambivalence and exhaustion.

When I think about my own values I keep returning to Wonder, Intimacy, Truth, Wellness and Appreciation. There are more, but I feel I can generate the rest from these five. It’s important to be as specific as possible. The clearer I am with my values the clearer they appeared in my life.

What would be your top 5 values?

Principles:

Principles are the rules, guidelines and/or mantras we live by. They are how we uphold and enact our values.

Perhaps one of the greatest principles is the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. A simple maxim with profound implications.

Another good example of a set of principles is one’s criteria of engagement which I discuss in depth in a previous post.

In general, one’s values determine one’s principles, and one’s principles guide one’s methods. Establishing these for myself and putting them into alignment literally had me walking different.

There is enormous power in knowing what you stand for, and how you stand for it.

What would be some of your principles?

MVP’s: Mission, Vision & Plan

Mission:

Your mission is your “what” and your “why - What you work to do, and Why you work to do it.

My mission is to use my imagination and creativity to transform life’s challenges into art.

Art has the incredible ability to alchemize pain into poetry, and turn trials into tapestries of beauty and resilience. It is this transformative process that powers my MassQ work, and this newsletter/C.S.A as a whole. Every entry in this Pathfinder series is a product of some problem I have faced. I begin and end each of my Staying Authentic While Marketing Your Work workshops with the maxim “your art is a solution”. Knowing what you are trying to solve, resolve, explore, and/or bring about is key to harnessing the true power of your practice. Your mission doesn’t have to look or sound like mine, but whatever it may be, know that it is important. And that you have a much better chance of making it happen, if you know what “it” is.

Vision:

Your vision is what your mission aims to accomplish - the effect you wish your work to have over time (and space).

What will your mission create? Who will benefit from it (beyond just you)?And why is this important?

My vision is to use art to change human behavior. To put humanity back in harmony with itself and its source, and to help humankind realize its fullest potential.

I know, sounds pretentious, even to me, and impossibly grand.

But perhaps that is the true hallmark of a vision - something worth dedicating one’s life to, even if it may not be accomplished in a lifetime. Put another way, a vision is a cause so noble that the work towards it, is reward in itself. Because the work IS the cause. I am reminded of the Bruce Lee quote from my previous Wisdom Wednesday Post:

Oftentimes our missions and visions in life are too small. If your mission is only about you, if it already exists in the world, if it doesn’t challenge the way you think and what you think is possible, then chances are it’s too small. Small, individualistic missions usually garner only small and individualistic support and impact.

I don’t believe humanity is operating at its fullest potential, and I know it needs to change. The method and medium I’ve chosen to promote that change is art.

So do I think my art can change humanity?

I know it’s changed mine.

The art I create constantly pushes me to be more open, compassionate, empathetic, courageous, aware and present. In a word; better. I believe by engaging others in that creative process, it will do the same for them.

Plan:

Once we have a mission and vision the next step is to form a plan for how to go about them.

There’s a saying that goes: “If you want to make God laugh, tell ‘em your plans”

True indeed. But there’s also the saying, (I just made up) that goes: “If you want to keep God silent, tell ‘em you have none.”

Plans bring focus, organization, (and when done well) consistent results. Without a plan no matter how noble your cause is, there is no hope in pursuing it.

Your plan may make God laugh, but I know when I find people who make me laugh I tend to keep them around. And as important as I think my mission and vision are, it’s equally important to keep a sense of humor. It’s no coincidence that the words “human,” “humility,” and “humor” all derive from the Latin word “humus” meaning “earth”. To be human, humble and humorous literally means to be grounded.

Plans can often get overwhelming. With such grand visions and missions, where do we start?

While your mission and vision may be large, the best plans start small. What is the simplest, most basic way to begin? Getting started is always the hardest part, so making it as easy as possible is the goal.

Enter the Minimum Viable Product.

MVP: Minimum Viable Product

A Minimum Viable Product, according to technopedia, is a version of a product “with just enough features to be usable by early customers who can then provide feedback for future product development”.

Basically, it’s the part of your vision you can create now with what you have on hand. This is usually a much smaller, simpler, and unrefined version of what you envision. There is a reason to start so humbly. Beyond just being more affordable and feasible, starting small also allows you the freedom to experiment and make all the mistakes and errors you need in order to get to a better solution. It allows you to explore and take risks before the stakes get too high, expensive and/or unforgiving. And it allows you to start now rather than waiting for that impossible moment when all conditions are “just right”.

When I went about creating my one-man-show Come On In - Live, I started with just myself and a space. I was at an artist residency at Artisan’s Asylum in Allston (shout out to Lars for helping to make that happen). In recognizing that I had all seven of my methods in place (space/time, clarity, freedom, creative restraints, support, accountability & focus) I began to write a rough draft of a script. The script was about my relationship with Hip Hop over time. I wanted to create an experience that would tie together my love of music, visual art and storytelling. Writing the script allowed me to process a lot of the challenges I had faced and was facing in life and turn them into creative expression. And in processing these challenges through a script, I was able to communicate the ideas of the show to others in a clear and coherent way.

This initial script was my minimum viable product. It turned into a “show” I put on with a few hundred bucks worth of supplies, and help from a few talented friends. The friends came along because I was able to communicate to them my vision in a way that aligned with their values (and because they liked me:). The same could be said about the handful of folks I got to come out and see the show once it was ready.

It was a rough, duct tape-and-a-prayer kind of production. But it was a start. A producer friend of mine who came see it, saw the shows potential. The mission of the work, to explore the difficulties of growing up Black and male in America, resonated with her. So much so, that she offered to come on board to help me develop it further. With her help I put on a newer, better version of it at Emerson’s Black Box Theatre the next year, this time with a live band. The number of collaborators and audience members continued to grow.

After that version at the Black Box Theatre, a few funders came together to invest in what we were doing. With those funds, coupled with a grant from the city of Boston, we were able to bring on a proper director and a full production team to help me develop the show even further. That allowed us to bring an even tighter version of the show to the Strand Theatre in 2024. The budget, the audience, the run of show, and team all multiplied once again.

And that is how it works, from one MVP (Methods, Values, Principles); to another (Mission, Vision, Plan); to another (Minimum Viable Product).

And I promise, this stuff really works, at least it has for me. I invite you to give it a try and see if it does for you.

If so let me know, maybe I feature your story in the next post!

∞

It’s really not that complicated.

I just want to do what I want, when I want, how I want, and create things that people love and respect, while generating an income that exceeds 80% of the world’s population, allowing me the freedom to travel, take breaks and enjoy family, while staying 100% authentic, grounded and true to my morals and beliefs, while garnering a following that makes me feel important but that doesn’t infringe too much on my privacy, autonomy or energy, so I can focus solely on making poignant work that addresses the major issues of our time without succumbing to the immense pressures, conflicts, responsibilities, temptations and challenges inherent in doing so…

I mean, is that too much to ask…?

You see what I did there…

Sometimes as artists we forget the enormous privilege it is to even imagine, let alone live out the life we desire. The ability to pursue one’s artistic sensibilities, even as a hobby, let alone a career, is for most people an extreme luxury.

And as with all luxury, there is a premium price to pay. If there wasn’t, then that luxury is most likely counterfeit or stolen.

So the question becomes, how much are you willing to pay?

Paying it forward…

The good news (since most of us are not rolling in the dough) is that the cost of this luxury is not in dollars and cents alone (although it will require more money than one would expect), but in time, energy, sacrifice, discipline, gratitude, generosity, humility, perseverance, consistency, commitment, planning, research, study, strategy, patience and practice. All of these spiritual, emotional, technical and interpersonal skills that are part of the closing costs for being an artist can be developed for free. Not only that, they are renewable and can be used in every other area of life.

But they must all be earned.

And if I were to count up all the hours, dollars, elbow grease and “I don’t want to’s” I’ve had to give up and give out just to get to where I am now (let alone where I want to be), it becomes clear just how expensive this luxury is.

The question then becomes: is it worth it?

I think it’s a very sane and logical question to ask, especially for those of us who wish to pursue a creative practice as a career. I mean, there are other, real-world, adult responsibilities like child and elder care, rent and mortgage, full time jobs and part time lovers that may make even the hobby of art-making prohibitively expensive for many. And the truth is, that’s actually ok. Because while I think everyone can be artistic, not everyone is here to BE an artist.

But if you believe you were put on this earth to be one, and to pursue it full time, then you must be willing to pay the price. Which means doing the non-creative stuff. Delaying satisfaction. Working in obscurity. Self-funding, self promoting, self selling and delivering... It is only after we have shown that we are willing to do these things for ourselves, that we can even entertain (let alone expect) the idea of others doing it for us.

I am in no way promoting the D.I.Y. till you DIE scam we’ve been sold that has too many of us isolated, burned out and self absorbed. We are always stronger together in community (collective care) and collaboration (collective labor). But what I am saying is that the first team we all have got to work with is “me myself and I” - and that team’s got to be working well if we ever hope to work well with others.

I know you know this.

I know I know this. But sometimes we all need the reminder.

When things get hard, and opportunities seem scarce and we’re tired and drained, we may wonder if we are doing something wrong. If we just aren’t good enough. If we are failing. I’m here to remind you (and me) that more than likely, you are just in the process of paying the cost to live out your dreams.

I think of all the other people in the world doing difficult jobs that don’t pay as well as they should and that often go unnoticed and under-appreciated. I think of all those other people sacrificing their time and energy to raise kids, care for the needy, and keep our society from collapsing. They are paying just as much, if not more. Why shouldn’t I?

I am not advocating for the 24-hr-grind workaholism that kills you before you retire. I’m just recognizing that the things in life that are actually worth the effort, won’t come without it.

So pay it.

Because as expensive as this artist life is, guess who that payment is ultimately going toward:

YOU.

It’s actually not a payment at all, it’s an investment. An investment in not only a better you, but a better, richer community, society and world. I’ve been talking about the costs but let’s not forget the benefits. The release and revitalization that comes from expressing one’s experience. The wonder and excitement of exploring one’s imagination to create forms, answers and solutions previously unimagined. The joy of crafting experiences for others to enjoy, and be inspired and challenged by. If you are indeed an artist then you know there is nothing else you would rather do.

So what of the cost? What cost could be too much?

It doesn’t mean that it won’t be difficult, that it won’t stretch us to our limits and push us past them. But then again, isn’t that the point? Isn’t that the sign of growth?

Of course, If your practice is pushing you to become bitter, hateful, manipulative, sick, or cruel, then you’re probably in the wrong practice. Or maybe you need some time off, or to change your approach.

I’ve had to do all of the above at some point along the way. I’ll probably need to do so next week. And any change costs time, money, mindset and effort.

But I’m cool with that. Because I know it’s all just an investment in myself, my community and what I believe in.

Paying it back…

Finally, for all those who enjoy the work we artists do. Who’s lives are enriched in some way by our efforts, I would extend the same request.

Pay for it.

Whatever the price,I guarantee you are getting it at a discount, because if you only knew what it took to create it... And because as expensive as it may seem, guess who that payment is ultimately going toward:

YOU.

Art gives life its color, it allows us to see, feel, touch and experience the poetics of our existence.

So what of the cost? What cost could be too much?

Here’s to paying it forward, paying it back, and paying attention.

-Sincereously,

-Daniel

∞

In other ways, it feels like the year’s been a crawl. So much crisis and bad news packed into so little time makes it feel like time itself has stopped.

It could also be a function of the season - this ambiguous time between winter and spring that seems to go on indefinitely.

Or it could be me. If you couldn’t tell by the tone, I’ve been feeling a bit “blah” lately. Motivation’s been a bit harder to come by, and even simple tasks seem to required more effort than usual.

Last night while doom-scrolling (instead of writing this post) I came upon this:

And it clicked. I’m burnt out.

2025 had been a such a huge push. So many wonderful things came from it, but I hadn’t realized till now how much it had taken out of me.

So instead of the new year feeling like a launch pad (like it usually does), it felt more like an emergency landing strip - one I was forced to use because I had run out of fuel.

It seems an apt metaphor for the times; given the illegal war our country’s waded into, and the resulting spike in fuel prices around the world...

Another story… though oddly connected to my own.

You see, my work is about discovering beauty, about finding meaning and forming deeper connections. And giving so much of myself toward that this past year, only to see my government, society and news feed reflecting back the exact opposite… it’s been more deflating than I realized or cared to admit.

I know allowing the outer world to dictate how I feel inside gives it more power than it deserves. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I was a bit gassed.

And yet resting, in a time of such great unrest, feels a bit irresponsible, apathetic, selfish…

Part of the reason I’m divulging all of this, is because I know someone reading feels the exact same way. And I want them (you?) to know, you aren’t alone. And that we aren’t without options. True, life goes on, and we must go on along with it. But that doesn’t mean denying our burn-out or exhaustion. I imagine it means finding a balance between rest and resistance, between unplugging and pulling up, and between critique and appreciation.

Appreciation is an incredible thing. Identifying and leaning into all that is good, and beautiful, and meaningful, and connected becomes all the more necessary during tough times and bouts of burnout. That (and not oil) is the fuel that refills my tank, so that I can fly again. But that refueling takes time and that time is best used to rest. And so as I rest I want to take time to appreciate a few things recently past and upcoming that are helping to fill my tank:

Telling Lives Living Histories

I was recently honored to have served as director of photography for The Wellness Collaborative’s “Telling Lives Living Histories” - an intimate oral history project centering the voices of some of Roxbury’s original Black residents.

​Pairing local young adults with seniors in an exchange of stories and reflections on the history and culture of Roxbury, Telling Lives Living Histories is a unique platform for intergenerational exchange, place-keeping and cultural conservation.

Capturing the joy, connection and legacy shared by the participants young and old was extremely touching and fulfilling.

This past February the project was screened for a packed house at the Roxbury Branch of the Boston Public Library. It was gratifying to see the wonderful support and reactions from the community. Congrats to TWC co-founder Dr. Karen Craddock for her leadership and all of the other people and partners involved in the production. I have a feeling this is only the beginning for this project.

Echoes of Liberty

I have also been able to play a supporting role in another storytelling project entitled “Echoes of Liberty” helmed by Nerissa Williams Scott of TCGT entertainment. Created for Mass250, “Echoes of Liberty” commemorates the 250th anniversary of the American Revolution by elevating the stories of overlooked African American Revolutionary figures - blending live performance with augmented reality using the Hoverlay app which allows audiences to scan a QR code and engage with historical figures through their devices.

As a consultant to the project I was able to learn more about the inspiring histories of three pivotal Massachusetts figures: Elizabeth "Mumbet" Freeman, an enslaved woman who successfully sued for her freedom in 1781; Prince Hall, the abolitionist and Revolutionary-era leader; and Crispus Attucks, widely recognized as the first person killed in the American Revolution.

Each figure is brought to life by an actor, the latter of which is brilliantly portrayed by the one and only Blair Underwood, who is also co-producing the project alongside Nerissa. I got a chance to see Blair in action during the shoot at Anawan Studios. Seeing him, Nerissa, and the rest of the crew (pictured below) working to bring the project to light was a masterclass in teamwork, professionalism and craft.

After the shoot we all went out to share a meal and shoot the breeze. Blair has got to be one of the coolest, most down to earth celebrities I’ve had the pleasure of kickin’ it with. I hope if when I get to that level of success I can remain as humble and grounded as he is.

Staying Authentic Workshop

Last but certainly not least, I’m appreciative of the opportunity to present my professional development workshop “Staying Authentic While Marketing Your Work” later on this month through Assets for Artist. In the workshop I guide participants toward finding their voice, value proposition and audience to best promote themselves and their work with excellence and authenticity.

I was planning on invite you to join, but I just checked the link and the workshop has already reached capacity!

Oh well, I’m gratified to see the demand. But if you would be interested in such a workshop shoot me an email at daniel@danielcallahan.com. If I hear back from enough people I may be able to convince A4A to run it back. 🤞🏾

But I didn’t. So, I am now, because there’s no better time then the moment, and because everyday there is something new to start. So with that, let us begin:

We often refrain from starting things because we don’t know how to do them. We weren’t given instructions or direction. We can’t see the way forward. And that can be scary. And confusing. And reason to hold off. So we do.

But what if I told you, you didn’t have to know…

The great sufi mystic Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, or “Rumi” for short, reminds us that when it comes to getting started, the decision to take the first step is often the only direction or instruction we need.

Everything else will be revealed along the way.

It reminds me of a scene from the original X-Men movie, where Magneto walks confidently across a great chasm. With each step a metal plate appears out of nowhere, just in time to hold the weight of his outstretched foot as he struts forward, never breaking stride.

As he walks, the path appears:

Of course, it’s Magneto’s mutant ability to manipulate metal that allows him to build the makeshift bridge telekinetically as he walks upon it. While you and I may not be blessed with mutant powers, we all have the power to decide; to take that first step, and believe in our abilities (and the powers that be) to carry us to our destination.

Perhaps an even better example of this is in the film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Here, the protagonist Indiana Jones, faces his own endless chasm. But unlike Magneto, he doesn’t have the power to create his own bridge. He must instead make the “leap of faith” off the chasm’s edge, without any perceived support:

Of course, it is only through taking this initial “leap” that he discovers the camouflaged bridge, hidden in plain sight, that spans the great chasm.

Had he not had the courage to leap he would never have found the way forward.

It is also important to note that while his fear of falling was real, the actual danger of it was not.

And that is often the case with many of our fears. Their perceived threat, and our perceived risk, are just that - perceptions. They lie (in both senses of the word) in our perspective, not our reality. The only thing that can free us from such illusion is action; action in accordance to our faith in something greater than our fears.

Right up there with the fear of falling, is the fear of failing. The only difference between falling and failing is that when you fail you replace your L (loss) with your I (identity). The truth is we all will take some losses in life. I know I have. The key for me has been not identifying with the losses (or even the wins for that matter), but with the greatness of the mission, of the vision, and my attempts to fulfill it. Bruce Lee reminds us that if that mission and vision is noble enough, important enough, great enough, even our meager attempts at bringing it to fruition are graced with its greatness. As are we.

We don’t often come across chasms in life, but we all have a project or two we have put off, or given up entirely, because of our fear of failing at it.

What if I mess it up?
What if I make a fool of myself?
What if I put in all the time, effort, money and sacrifice, and it still doesn’t work out?

It all sounds (and feels) dangerous.

We forget that putting in all that time and effort builds US as well as the project. That the discipline, knowledge, skill and experience you gain in trying something, you get to keep. It all stays with you, even if the project doesn’t.

We forget that failure is often where we learn the most. That choosing the wrong path (out of ignorance) is perhaps the most fool-proof approach to finding the right one. We forget that by pursuing noble, worth-while and necessary endeavors, even in falling short, we fall forward - toward our greater potential and the greater good.

There is no real failure in that, only glory.

If you’re still on the fence about starting that thing you’ve put off, I hope this last quote from TD Jakes pushes you over (or makes you leap :).

It’s been my experience that “God”, “the universe”, “karma”, “cause & effect”, whatever you want to call it, responds much more readily to action than anything else. I know this for truth because I am a thinker. I think a lot. I am so good at thinking I can convince myself that just by thinking hard enough about something I can change it. Or make it happen. But alas, I’m no Magneto.

No matter how good and voluminous my thoughts, nothing moves until I do. Thinking, alone, isn’t enough. It’s only when that thought is put to good use, when it is incarnated into decisive action, that its power is unlocked. And so things like momentum, fortune, reputation, and opportunity only come to those that believe enough to do something. Over and over again, until it’s done.

But if we neglect to do. If we only think, pray, hope, dream... If we procrastinate, put off, or pass up on those thoughts, prayers, hopes and dreams, The universe cannot bless them. And things that are not blessed, cannot be a blessing, and we all lose out.

So, do us all a favor, and take that first step.

Sincerely,

-Daniel

∞

250 million years ago the earth’s landmasses were joined together to form one giant supercontinent called “Pangaea”. At that time, the western coast of Africa nestled snugly against America’s Northeastern coast. Like a ball in a socket.

A bone in a joint.

They say it was tectonic plates that began to pull them apart - stretched that joint wide until it dislocated, tore… and in the space between poured an ocean of blue that grew thousands of miles wide, pushing the continents we now know as Africa and North America further and further apart, until they no longer remembered their embrace.

249 million years later, in the winter of 1638, a ship named Desire crossed that ocean of blue, carrying kidnapped people from Africa’s western coast to the Northeastern shores of America. The ship stopped first in the Caribbean (where islands like Barbados and the Bahamas served as blueprints for slave societies soon to come to the States), before finally docking in Boston’s Harbor – making Massachusetts the first colony to legally adopt slavery.

By 1678 Boston traders were selling enslaved Africans as far as Virginia.

West Africa. Barbados. Boston. Virginia.

My family, on my mother’s side, is from Barbados; my father’s - Virginia. And as their families joined so too did their histories. I was the direct result.

346 years after that first slave ship arrived, I arrived into this world, the fourth child of my mother and father. That same year they decided to move from Philadelphia (the birthplace of America) to Boston, (the birthplace of its revolution) to start a new life. My father had been accepted to a Masters program in Divinity at Harvard University (America’s first college) and so we packed all our things into his car and headed north. Toward that eastern shore, still shaped like a socket, missing its other half.

It’s wild to think how much we are shaped by history. We often think of our past as behind us, and that our present is what shapes our legacy. But all too often it is the other way around - our history that shapes who we are and what we do. If our present is a result of our history than it could be argued that time moves both forward and backward.

41 years later,

my partner and I are flying out of Boston’s airport, on our first trip together to Ghana.

It wasn’t my first visit to Africa, but it was my first to its western coast. And as the plane took off, it was not lost on either of us that our flight path would reverse the route our ancestors had been forced to take over four centuries earlier.

7 years prior to our departure, the president of Ghana had launched the “Year of Return” a national campaign calling African Americans and the entire Diaspora back home. The campaign was also in commemoration of 400 years since the first arrival of enslaved Africans in America.

It was the first time I had ever heard of a country reaching out specifically to Black Americans. Gestures like that mean something, especially to a people never offered proper invitation anywhere, even the country they helped build (for free).

So, 7 years later, my partner and I were responding to that invitation.

I had hoped the trip would be grounding, that I’d learn as much about myself as the people and country I was going to visit. It proved to be all that and more.

Three days into our visit,

we took the over 4-hour drive across Accra to the coast’s infamous slave castles. There we were led into the dungeons where my ancestors were detained before being deported into bondage. Under the artificial light our guide pointed to a small section of the floor that had been cleared to reveal the stonework underneath. The rest of the floor was covered with a hard layer of dark grayish soot. He explained this soot was the compacted blood, sweat, tears and rot of thousands upon thousands of men, women and children, forced to stand, shacked, in their own squalor for months while awaiting permanent exile, in the largest forced migration of people in human history.

Genders were kept separate. Male trouble makers were thrown into even smaller enclosures where they were starved or suffocated to death (whichever came first). Women were routinely pulled from their confines to be raped by the governors and soldiers in charge. If they refused such humiliation, other tortures awaited. Many fell sick and died in the deplorable conditions of the dungeons, their bodies unceremoniously buried in unmarked graves or thrown to the ocean. There is simply no way to sugar coat the horrors of this history. Nor ignore its direct linkage to the enduring wealth and power of Europe and the US.

One of the slave castles we visited had been constructed on top of an old traditional shrine. After independence the Ghanaian Government took control of the castle and re-built a shrine within one of its dungeon chambers. The shrine stood as a reminder that even from the depths of human cruelty, the spirit of a people could rise. As my tour group filed out of the chamber, I stayed behind with the guide, removed my shoes, and stood barefoot on the remnants of my ancestors. I offered libation to the shrine and knelt for a moment in the heavy silence of it all.

There were many other moments in Ghana, moments full of beauty, joy, fellowship and learning. But that moment at the shrine had been worth the entirety of the trip. A connection was made - a line opened.

And before I knew it, signals started coming through.

On our way back

to the US, we hit turbulence. Bad turbulence. The kind that makes you hold onto your partner’s hand and think about the choices you’ve made in life.

Hunkered in our seats, we were forced to give up any illusion of control. Our lives were now in the hands of fate.

It was only then that it dawned on me where we were headed:

back, across the Atlantic.

This time we weren’t reversing our ancestor’s route, we were taking it.

As our plane dipped and shook through the sky, I couldn’t help but imagine, 38,000 feet below (and hundreds of years in the past) other vessels dipping and shaking through the choppy waters.

Pitch-black hulls, packed wall to wall with people, stacked like freight.
Chains rattling, wood creaking, voices moaning as violent waves rocked them to and fro… An unimaginable turbulence, without the hand of a loved one to hold.

A voyage, by unmotorized boat, across the Atlantic ocean would have taken anywhere from 3 to 6 months to complete. That’s 90 to 180 days of nauseating motion, claustrophobic enclosure, oppressive heat, uncirculated air, undrinkable water, festering wounds, smallpox, dysentery, infection, despair…

The castles had been just the beginning.

Our plane veered, sending a bottle of water I had on my tray table crashing to the floor. I didn’t bother retrieving it. My thoughts were no longer concerned with the present. My emotions had moved beyond fear, into anger.

Why? Why must they have suffered so much? For so long? Toward what end?
Why us, and not them? …Why anyone?

No answer.

There were no answers to such questions.

But in the midst of all the turbulence happening within and around me, two words came as if spoken out loud:

We
Survived

We survived…

In the face of all the horrors, and despite the worst of circumstances, our love, light, and lineage had survived. And I was living proof of that.

We eventually made it through the turbulence, and landed safely in Boston.

Our trip to Ghana had been so much more than a vacation. For at least two lines of ancestry, it marked the completion of a centuries-long journey; that had departed by force into bondage, but had returned, 400 years later, free and of its own volition.

All so a new journey could begin, in this new phase of life.

Where it will lead I do not know. But I look forward to finding out.

Two weeks

after returning from Ghana I was back on a plane, on my way to Key West for an artist residency.

I couldn’t think of a more different place. The same hot sun hung in the sky but everything below it had changed. The architecture, the ecology, the people. I had gone from being the only gringo in a sea of Black, to being the only Black in a sea of gringos. The situation wasn’t anything new for me, but the transition did take some time to get used to.

The idea had come to me while in Ghana to try incorporating more natural materials into my MassQ making. I mentioned in a previous post the incredible flora and fauna of the Keys, which immediately had me scouring for materials.

One of the first places I went to was the beach. In addition to enjoying the water I collected a few fist-fulls of sand in a container I had brought with me. I figured I might be able to use it as a texture of sorts. I later biked around, looking for any leaves on the ground that caught my eye. In the process, I happened upon this:

A dead rooster. Roosters are like Key West’s version of a pigeon; they can be found everywhere - roaming the streets, cock-a-doodle-doo-ing, living their best lives... So coming upon a dead one felt, unnerving to say the least – like an omen of sorts, though what it meant, I couldn’t say.

That night I got home, and tried to MassQ. But it seemed like every choice I made was the wrong one. Every attempt to correct a mistake forced another. No matter what I did I just couldn’t find a groove. Nothing worked.

Finally at around 4 in the morning I gave up. Snapped a few photos of the mess I had made, washed my face and went to bed, deflated. Maybe MassQing wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing during this residency. Hell, after all these years, maybe MassQing wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing period. Maybe it was time to move on?

Days later I met Genevieve, a receptionist at the studios and one of the few other Black folk I had encountered on the island. Naturally, one of the first questions I asked was where all the Black folk were. She admitted that after living there 7 years, she was still figuring that out. She mentioned how ironic it was given the history of the place.

History?

She began to tell me, but realized it would be better to just send an article she had found while doing research at the Library. When I read it I saw why.

The article detailed three slave ships that had been captured off the coast of Cuba in 1860 by the US Navy for violating the 1808 Act Prohibiting the Importation of Slaves. The ships and their “cargo” had been taken to Key West for processing. Accounts say the conditions on board were so horrendous that many of the Africans had already died. Still more were gravely ill and in desperate need of medical care. A makeshift infirmary was erected on the beach where the Africans were quarantined. Of the 1,432 originally rescued, over a fifth (294) wouldn’t make it off that beach. Their bodies were buried in unmarked graves, in an unmarked graveyard, on the beach where they had docked.

That beach, was less than 2 miles from me.

As soon as I finished the article I hopped on a bike and headed for it.

It wasn’t until I got there that I realized it was the same beach I had been to just days earlier, only a bit further down, and that the grave site described in the article was located directly across the street from where I found the dead rooster.

Call it a coincidence if you like, but I know better.

The graveyard had been discovered in 2002, with the aid of ground-penetrating radar. It was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2012. At the site a large fresco-like memorial had been installed on the ground depicting a map of the routes those three captured slave ships (The Wildfire, William and Bogota) had sailed. Black outlines throughout the mural marked specific location where remains had been detected. Through the center of the mural a Sankofa bird is depicted, flying back to Africa, a nod to the survivors who had been sent back to the continent. Next to the mural a large blue sign recounted the sobering history in its entirety.

It baffled me how I could have missed all of this the other day. I had been mere meters away, on the other side of the street. It just goes to show how selective our vision can be, and how blind ignorance makes us all.

I once again found myself in front of a memorial to my ancestors. I offered libation, dumped the sand I had collected the day before and gathered a few fistfuls from around the memorial. This was the sand I needed.

I went back my studio and immediatly began to work.

This was one of my first results;

My take on the parting of Pangaea 250 millions years ago, and the pull I feel within to bring these two continents, and their histories, back together again.

One could say I am a metaphor for their embrace. Part African, part American, part stranger to both, yet irrefutable proof of their shared history and connection.

In adding sand from the African Cemetery, I was in some small way, able to return the “dust” of those stolen back to their origin, as well as depict the spread of their diaspora across the Americas and Caribbean. Sand has always been tied symbolically to time. And while I cannot go back in time and change the past, I can allow it and its truth to change me. I can acknowledging and learn from it in the present, in order to create a better future.

During my residency, I gave a MassQing workshop for the general public. And along with Genevieve came several other Black folk I had met during my time there. It wasn’t a big group but it was a powerful nonetheless. And the MassQs (and stories behind them) were confirmation of the continued need for this practice.

Being in both Ghana and the Florida Keys, seeing the different faces and features of the people there, it became clear that while we were all Black, our histories differed dramatically. And that that difference had been written into our features and phonetics in addition to our nationality. In relation to my Ghanaian brothers and sisters it became even more clear that some milk had been added to my families coffee at some point in our history. And while, we haven’t done the DNA testing to prove it, my father had always heard stories growing up about how his great grandfather had been a white man. Under just what conditions that miscegenation occurred we do not know, but with a last name like Callahan, it’s not a huge leap to assume there is more than African blood running through our veins.

So it is not just poetics or theory when I say I am evidence of this history - not just of my African ancestors, but my European one’s as well.

And that’s… complicated.

Perhaps it’s why this administration is trying to erase such history from its own memorials and records. Because it serves as an indictment of this country’s past transgressions, and holds frightening implications for who and what we all really are to each other.

As I like to say, Black History is America’s original Epstein file.

But it is so much more than that. Black history is proof of this country’s ability to change, it corroborates it’s continued struggle to become a more perfect union, and serves as a reminder, like a shrine in a slave castle, that even out of the ugliest of oppression, true beauty can emerge.

In the ugliness of these times, that is something I think we all can find hope in.

***

Tonight I’m starting another offering of this CSA entitled “Wisdom Wednesdays.” Wisdom Wednesdays is a way for me to share the kernels of wisdom I’ve been fortunate enough to receive over the years.

The plan is to share a kernel every Wednesday as a note, and then, once a month, to share a run-down/reflection of all the notes in a post (like this one here).

I’ve always been fascinated with proverbs. The idea that a small collection of well chosen words could change one’s entire way of thinking, has never ceased to amaze me. So every time that happens I make sure to write those words down, and over the years I’ve amassed quite a collection.

There’s a proverb that says: “All good things are better when shared.”

I believe that. So without further ado, here’s the first Wisdom Wednesday share:

Success

I’d love to start this off with a word from my mom. She told me this in passing, one day as we stood in her kitchen, and it has become the north star to my practice and life.

How different would our world be if we drew joy from helping each other? How different would our world be we if decided to do things because they brought joy to others?

I always know I am on the right path, doing the right thing, when others want to take part in it, not for fame, money or influence, but because being a part brings them joy.

With every important project I have ever done, I have received help. People show up, take time out of their day, roll up their sleeves and contribute. I am always shocked by their generosity, until it clicks, that they aren’t doing it for me, they are doing it because it makes them whole, and that makes me whole too.

Transcendence

My Dad is where I get my depth from. He dropped this gem on me in response to my MassQ work. The idea is that we are all seeds, and as seeds we exist to become greater than ourselves. So this has become the litmus test for my work. If it is not forcing me to grow, to change and expand; if it is not stretching me beyond my limitations, ego and understanding, then it’s probably not worth doing.

Spirit

I believe that this material plane is not the only one. That there are other dimensions to this reality, larger than our own. Don’t ask me how it works, that’s above my pay grade, but I do feel it. When my mind is still, and my heart is open, I get a sense of it, almost like a memory before its fully remembered. It’s a longing of sorts, which tells me that whatever that other plane is, it must be something good, because something in me misses it.

But while I’m here, in this plane, I’m looking to make my transactions. To build on my relations. And make the most of it all until its time to go home.

The Enemy

This one dropped like a sledgehammer one day as I was doom scrolling. I almost didn’t want to admit it to myself, but its truth cannot be denied. In this time of great conflict, when our enemies have come out of hiding, and we are all out here pointing fingers at each other, we mustn’t forget that as we extend our index, our middle, ring and pinky all point back at us.

We like to other-ize our enemies, to frame them as pure evil - demons, morons, scum. They become targets for our revulsion, hatred and disgust. We train our negativity upon them, not realizing what that energy is doing to us.

Trump is a perfect example. For all of us on this side of morality, he has become the ultimate boogie-man, the personification of all that is wrong with our country, our culture and our humanity. And he has certainly made a case for himself. But if we project all our revulsion upon him and his base, upon republicans, evangelicals, plutocrats, THEM, we forget the role WE have played in this - Our quiet worship of wealth and celebrity. Our manufactured consent, our distracted attention and passive activism. We forget that within each of us is a little trump, stirring our insecurities, feeding off our greed, delighting in our disdain, hiding in our hypocrisies, bent truths and cut corners. The more hatred we harbor for him the more like him we become and the larger and louder our inner trumps grow.

It is that inner trump that is the true enemy.

What is happening in America is what happens when a country does not do its own internal work, face it’s own internal issues and own up and correct its own past mistakes. What is happening in the US is what is happening in us. We must learn to find peace, justice and truth in our own minds first, in our own families and communities. If we start with us and not them, maybe we have a chance.

Otherwise we run the risk of pointing fingers instead of the way. Of dehumanizing them for the sake of our own inflated self righteousness. Of calling for their destruction, instead of our unification, fearing their plans, instead of getting busy with our own.

Jame Baldwin put it best:

That man ain’t never lie.

There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge is the understanding of information, wisdom is the understanding of what do with that understanding.

Here’s to much more of that.

Sincerely,

-Daniel

I have often used this platform to share the highlights of my practice. I mean, that’s kind of the point of a newsletter. But I realized I may be doing us all a disservice if that was all I shared.

The truth is, for every success and accomplishment, there have been a host of missteps, failures and rejections. And if I’m not sharing at least some of those, I’m not really telling the full story.

This past month I learned I had not been selected for a residency. It was one of those juicy ones, the kind that would have provided multiple years of financial and institutional support.

I was hype.

But alas, I opened an email one morning to read that all-to-familiar message, with that all-too-familiar adverb… You know the one; “Unfortunately.”

No matter how many times I’ve read that word, it still manage to hit like a sucker punch.

But over the years I’ve learned to roll with those punches, not just because they’re inevitable, but because in each lies an opportunity for growth. Yes, there is something to learn, even in rejection.

So for anybody reeling from rejection, I offer the following for your consideration:

1. Feel It:

Getting rejected never feels good. It’s sad, lonely, frustrating, deflating, and none of these feelings are particularly fun to experience. And yet, they are all part of being alive. You can’t have the thrill of victory without the agony of defeat. Allowing ourselves to feel these unpleasant emotions builds our capacity to empathize with others who may be feeling the same way. It short, it gives us the ability to relate - which ultimately makes us better artists, and people.

All too often we are quick to switch to other emotions like anger, indignation, and self pity when things don’t go our way. These emotions are “easier” because they ultimately arise from placing the blame on others. We become angry with the selection committee, the funding organization, the wider arts community, because it’s their fault we aren’t getting what we think we deserve.

Being angry may feel more energizing in the moment, but in blaming others for our reality, we unwittingly give them power over it.

Whether they are to blame or not, it is up to us to come up with solutions for situations because at the end of the day, we are the only ones we can control.

Self pity can also be a tempting response. It paints a reality where disappointment need not be disappointing because it is inevitable. “I never get chosen, no one ever supports my work, I’ll never be any good at this.” None of these assumptions are particularly useful because they leave no room for solutions. And solutions are what we’re after, right?

So I give myself the space (and grace) to feel all of these emotions. But I acknowledge that the feelings are just that - feelings. And in order to bring about the reality I wish, I will have to move beyond them into action.

2. Follow It:

As counterintuitive as it may seem, instead of recoiling from rejection, I have learned to move toward it instead. I ask the organizations and grantors who reject me for feedback (if they offer it). I try to understand why they chose not to select my application so I can better position myself in the future.

I suggest asking other artists and arts administrators you respect to have a look at your materials and point out any red flags or areas that need further development. It’s always hard to see this in your own work so getting an outside perspective can be super helpful.

(If you’d like for me to look over your material, you can sign up for a free coaching session here)

And as always, with all feedback, take what helps and leave the rest. And as much as criticism may make you want to jump on your high horse and defend yourself (I am so guilty of this), all that energy would be better spent working on your next application (see #4 for the reason why).

3. Flip It:

Instead of getting mad at the decision makers for saying no, consider walking a mile in their shoes. The task of administrating an application process is a ton of work and I would not have fully appreciated or understood that if I had not had the experience of serving on a few selection committees myself.

If offered the opportunity to be on a selection committee for a grant, prize or fellowship, I highly recommend taking it. You’ll get a feel for what it’s like having to choose between a glut of talented and deserving artists.

If you do have a chance to, take note of what things resonate with you and the others on your committee. In addition to showing me what works and what doesn’t when applying, the experience also revealed how little some decisions have to do with the actual artists, or their work.

I’ve heard all of these reasons given when evaluating applicants. Notice none of them had anything to do with the quality of the applicants’ work. Yet, all of them were valid considerations given the specific criteria and mission assigned to the selection committee. As an artist it’s impossible to know for sure why you and your work were not chosen, so it makes no sense to assume it is because of any failing on your part (or the selection committee’s).

4. Play the Percentages:

(sorry, couldn’t think of another “F” phrase)

Applying to anything, whether it be a job, grant, residency or school, is ultimately a game of numbers. Knowing the numbers is key to setting strategies and managing expectations. For example, if you are a three point shooter in the NBA hitting 40% of your shots is considered elite. If you are a Major League Baseball player hitting 30% of the time you are at bat is considered excellent. If you are applying for grants a 10% conversion rate is about average, meaning if you apply to 10 applications and only get accepted to 1, you are actually doing just fine.

Don’t be discouraged by the 9 rejections. Just play the numbers. Finding more success may just mean increasing the amount of applications you are submitting (I know, easy to say).

I’ve found it helpful to allot a set time in my week/month for researching and applying to grants. My own personal goal is submitting 1 application per month. That’s 12 a year, which means if I get 1, I’ll be happy. If I get more than 1, I celebrate. If I get none, I celebrate the fact that I stuck to my goal of 12 applications. So either way…

The amount and frequency of your applications should be based on YOUR goals, bandwidth and priorities, not anyone else’s. They say comparison is the thief of joy. And in this crazy ass time we’re going through, your joy is too precious to lose. So stay focused on your plan. (and if you need help making that plan let’s talk!).

5. Focus/Frame It:

With such a low conversion rate some may wonder if it’s even worth the effort to apply for grants, especially given how labor intensive the process can be. Only you can make that assessment for yourself. But one HUGE benefit of the application process (beyond the occasional acceptance) is that it forces you to get your shit together. It requires you to get your visions out of your head, and come up with an actual plan to implement them. If you treat the application process as a way to bring clarity and focus to your ideas, while improving your ability to share them with others, then regardless of your success rate, you’ll be in a better position than you would have had you not applied.

The key is not to chase grants, i.e. create projects or proposals to fit grants, just because you want the money. Trust me, I’ve tried it and I can’t think of a single instance when doing so has worked out for me. It’s because grants are rarely created by artists. They’re usually created by administrators who have totally different approaches, ways of thinking and concerns. Trying to envision your work based on their thinking will only lead to confusion. The key is to come up with your own project ideas that inspire and excite you first, and then search for the grants, organizations and opportunities that fit what you are trying to do.

If your particular area of interest, or practice not as well known or funded, you may need to get a bit creative in your framing. For instance, I’ve found it difficult to find funding for anything having to do with Rap or Hip Hop. I’ve found there is much more support for things like writing, composition, mental health and public art (why that is, is a topic for another day). It has therefore been important for me to highlight how all of those more supported aspects exist and are championed within my Hip Hop projects and proposals.

So while I don’t recommend creating projects based on grants, it is helpful to know how to frame and position your projects to best align with the particular goals and missions of the grants you are applying to.

6. (it’s all) For You:

Finally, I always try to keep in mind that all these applications, acceptances and rejections are all for my continued evolution. They are all gifts that provide clues for how to move and improve. The greatest antidote to all the negative feelings that come with rejection is appreciation. Appreciation for the opportunity, appreciation for the experience and learning it brings and appreciation for the chance to dust yourself off and try again.

It’s all for you.

∞