Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time


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The dancers gradually learn to carry on their lives with dignity in spite of the fear and hate surrounding them. They begin to confide in each other, questioning whether the war is just. The piece ends with liberation, resolution and peace. CalArts dancer Lindsey Lollie was one of the collaborators on the dance; she and Mierisha have been friends for three years. Lindsey says the piece is about some of the restrictions people face based on their nationality, gender, race, religion or personality.

I would like to inspire people to act. A sense of community can help us jump over boundaries. We are many and we are stronger that the fear. The positive always prevails over the negative. She switched to a major in multimedia interdisciplinary art to give her more tools to work with. As she sat outside with her back leaning against the trailer she tried to figure out how to attach one half of a straight-haired blond wig to half of a black curly one.

The black half works works for the employer looking for diversity. She studied awesome pictures of African women with elaborate hairstyles.


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Her mother was always strict about hair. In traditional African culture, you have to be aligned before you got out into the world. That means your hair has to be combed. My mother had no idea! It was kind of a present. Her current work consist of creating her own continent.

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She plans to mix a little piece of Kentucky, where some of ancestors are from, with a little piece of West Africa, where others originated. HinkleHinkle works on a current piece. Not pictured: musician Kevin Robinson. Some artists were so happy with the space they retruned. Graffiti and mixed media artists were in residence along with filmmakers and videographers who screened their productions at night inside and outside the trailers.

Two playwrights presented reading with actors. Students, teachers, working artists and others gathered on the lawn by the entrance to the main building at CalArts. Arts In the One World is a gathering of artist-activists interested in using their art can help bring about social change.

Over the course of the event, participating artists will also perform inside and around the trailer. A stage is being constructed around the trailer today. Participating artists include: Kenyatta A. We thought you might like to read more about this extraordinary performance artist, poet, playwright and teacher. In the border region between the United States and Mexico who are the insiders and who are the outsiders?

Earlier pieces explored the loneliness of the immigrant experience in the United States. While still a student at CalArts he wrapped himself in a batik cloth and lay down on the floor of an elevator. Another time he dressed as a homeless Mexican and begged for food. No one stopped. The human body is often used as a metaphor for the body politic. Next he invited the group to transform each other into icons representing the sacred and profane. Participants emerged with huge smiles on their faces. The program currently offers art classes or labs in writing, photography, guitar and public art.

Computer and cooking classes are available for parents. The classes focus on the meaning of home — a theme Serrano has previously explored in her work as an artist and curator. Coincidentally, it is also the theme that Sam is focusing on in his Trailer Trash project. On November 6th, Sam brought the Spartan to the Nomads, asking for their help figuring out what makes a house or a tin can a home. They gather in empty spaces to turn dreams into art. Here they have time to slow down, to get to know and trust each other. At the same time, their parents can participate in cooking and computer labs.

But art is just a starting point. Classes are free and everyone works on a volunteer basis. Two years ago she was attending meetings with the Valle del Oro Neighborhood Committee to address problems of crime and racial tensions in their community. Neighbors were feeling unsafe and they were their fingers at the young people.

Serrano, who was living in the Valle del Oro Neighborhood at the time, was aware that youngsters were joining gangs in the 5th and 6th grade. You can hear the grit in her still, when she talks of her boy. My grandmother was a sharecropper. My mother was a domestic, and I was whatever the fuck I was.

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That child changed things for all of us. There are moments, though, remembering the man that child became, when Afeni grasps her shoulders and, like any grieving mother, shakes with pain. Remembering the ringing phone that broke her sleep the night of September 7, another. Her friend Yaasmyn was on the phone.

August 12222 U.S. Credits

When he was five, I was so grateful. When he was 10, I thanked God he was He was a gift. He was snatched away just as his music predicted: gangsta-style, in a hail of heavy-caliber metal, fired, fittingly, from a late-model Cadillac. Months before, he had filmed his own death in a video. Go around, Tupac Shakur did: taking turns without asking, breaking hearts and rules. And when he left the board, gunned down by still-unknown assailants for still-unknown reasons, the chips were piled high: tens of millions in record sales; six movies; hundreds of poems and lyrics; plans upon plans upon plans, including funding a chain of day-care centers to ease the burdens of mothers like Afeni.

There was a darker legacy, too: drug dealing, arrests for assault and weapons possession, a prison term after an alleged gang rape. A prophet, said Rolling Stone; a menace, said Bob Dole—and both were right. Because Tupac Shakur was born in the middle of a war. Its beginnings can be traced to a defining moment in U. On one side were the local members of the United Federation of Teachers, overwhelmingly white and Jewish; on the other, thousands of parents, poor and black and Puerto Rican.

At issue was power: Who had it? The teachers, who had shut the schools in a dispute over community control? Or the parents, who had crossed picket lines to keep them open? Now, as the aunt of one of the kids, she found herself serving as a makeshift teacher. By the time her lessons were over, several invective-filled months later, the old civil-rights coalition was in tatters and Alice Williams was a new person: Afeni Shakur, Black Panther. Soon, a shotgun-toting squad of them was pounding on her door. The charge against her and 20 comrades was conspiring to set off a race war—with gunpowder.

Out on bail, Afeni got pregnant, though not by Lumumba. Abortion was not an option she considered even when she was returned to jail after the flight of several codefendants. Acting as her own lawyer, she shredded their accusers with innocent questions. Had they seen her carrying a gun? Making explosives? Working in a hospital? In the schools? In the streets? And had the efforts been for her people?

Yes, they admitted, blinking at the unschooled girl whose power came out of her head. The jury took less than 20 minutes to vote acquittal on all counts. A month later, in June —divided Gemini, by the star chart—Afeni gave birth to a son. Afeni settled with her baby in the Bronx and pursued preying landlords, not as a Panther, but as a paralegal. Her son grew up bright and mannerly, something Afeni saw to by rewarding mischief with a copy of The New York Times and orders to read it front to back.

Pressures, though, were all around. They mounted when Afeni had another child, Sekyiwa, a daughter born two years after Tupac. Her father, Mutulu Shakur, also a Panther, was in no position to help the family. He was on a road that would lead to 60 years behind bars for a fatal armoredcar holdup. His attorney would later win nationwide recognition. His name was Johnnie Cochran.

To Tupac, however, Legs was all the daddy available. Mama taught something else. He found another refuge when Afeni enrolled him in a Harlem theater group. For Afeni there were no escapes. Her job evaporated and Legs was jailed for credit-card fraud. On and off welfare, she moved her family often, sometimes to homeless shelters. You want to be Jack. Eventually they landed in Baltimore, where a relative had promised Afeni help getting a job doing data processing.

What he did have, after door knocking by Afeni, was admission to the prestigious Baltimore School for the Arts. There he starred in several productions and began dabbling in rap. Worried for her kids, Afeni sent them to spend the summer with a friend in suburban Marin County across the Golden Gate from San Francisco. Before long, Afeni was snarled up in it—a crack addict.

She hid the habit from her year-old son, but she could no longer summon the questions to quell the doubts that held her captive. After a series of arguments, Tupac moved out, joining a group of boys in an abandoned apartment. He went to school—over the hill, at affluent Mt. Tamalpais High, where he gained a reputation as an actor of almost spooky intensity. Few knew he was on his own and fewer still that he was eking a living by, among other things, working in a pizza parlor. Tupac, however, now had no one to camouflage reality. They used to dis me. So he started hustling crack.

He scrimped by with odd jobs, chased girls, wrote poetry, and suggested that his friends get high smoking his ashes after he died. But rap was the real turn-on. He was only listening to the music in his head. Usually rapping with his roommates—the One Nation Emcees, they called themselves—he attended class sporadically, and, just shy of graduation, stopped going altogether. They happened on each other in a park one afternoon not far from where Leila, an accomplished singer and dancer, was giving workshops on using music to build self-esteem.

It really moves well. And Tupac begins reciting quotations from memory. They toured inner-city schools, Leila giving talks, Tupac rapping. Eight months slipped by, however, with no gigs. Tupac started as a roadie, carrying bags. Soon he was dancing, then commanding the mike. Something went wrong with the sound system and Atron had to restrain him from slugging one of the equipment men.

Sam and the Floorboard Gang: Part 3: Wishing Time

It was like that all the time. He had quieter times, such as the night on the road he sneaked off with Shock and a couple of girls to the dark of the tour bus. As Shock snuggled with his date, he heard Tupac whispering a few rows up. I almost laughed. What does Pac know about Terms of Endearment? Points came from playing the hard guy who talked trash to state troopers. Soon he had recorded more than enough songs for a solo album.

The trick was getting it released. There was no convincing Tupac of that. The problem, as he saw it, was D. Gangsta was the fashion now, and L. By , everyone was there: Dr. Be real Niggaz, called the voices as the ominously slow, deep beat boomed from cruising car stereos. Fuck tha police. Gangsta sold—to the pinkest of Caucasians as well as blacks. Leila wanted no part of it, and, cautioning Pac to watch his back, turned over his management to Atron.

They were still scrounging for a record deal when Money-B came to town to audition for the lead in a movie called Juice. Tupac tagged along. The part Money tested for was Bishop, an icy-souled punk who kills his best friends to cover up his crimes. What followed was a shock. On wrap day Moritz took Tupac aside to congratulate him for his performance, and tease him about spending so much of his scale wages on gold jewelry.

Back in L. I never worked with anyone who could write so many great songs so quickly. Just handed over a pen and held iron pipes to his head till he signed. Knight denies the charges; the suit was eventually thrown out. Or the night he reportedly threatened to throw Vanilla Ice off a 15th-floor hotel balcony.

Or the day Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson visited his office and found an assistant mopping up a pool of blood. Since then, Suge had brought Interscope millions. His gang pals, the Bloods, were making sure of that, dropping by mom-and-pop stores and South Central dances with Death Row releases and little hints. And, wonders, the records would spin. Pac took the cash, but, loyal to Atron and Whalley, declined the Death Row invite. A seed, however, was planted. The money, in any case, soon vanished.

The next day he bought another, and, when a friend admired it, Tupac gave it to him. He did hold on to an Oakland apartment, only Tupac kept forgetting his keys. He handled that by punching in windows, so many that after a couple of weeks his pad had the tightness of a colander.

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The news, though, was always filtered through a drug haze. The climb out began during the 20th-anniversary acquittal reunion of the Panther 21 when a friend invited her on a drive to suburban Connecticut.

List of deleted scenes

Their destination, it turned out, was a rehab clinic. Saved my life. Being real. The first incident occurred in Oakland shortly after the release of 2Pacalypse. Ticketed for jaywalking, Tupac mouthed off, and wound up bloody in a jail cell. Tupac appeared too busy to notice. When Tupac arrived, at the wheel of a new Jeep, children squealed for autographs.

But then the glowering older boys came up. As fists tore at Tupac, a pistol in his belt clattered onto the road. Someone picked it up, and a shot rang out. Leila told him he was being foolish. He was No, Pac told her, only calculating skin color and statistics. His tattoos seemed to invite violence.


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  8. One showed a panther about to strike; another, an AK But it was the three-inch letters he had cut across his stomach that said it all. The public saw only his press clips. He got another seven months following the Marin shooting when cops found marijuana and a gun on him in the aftermath of a brawl with a Hollywood limo driver.

    Three weeks later, he was in the headlines again for taking a swing at a rapper with a baseball bat during a concert in Lansing, Michigan.

    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time
    Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time Sam and the Floorboard Gang:Part 3: Wishing Time

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