More than a decade after our first meeting, one afternoon I turned the radio on to catch some jazz music on WHCJ 90.3 FM, Savannah State University's celebrated multi-platform multicultural station. To my surprise, I heard Jackson discussing music with the station's legendary former director of programming, and Jazz Festival Hall of Fame member, Theron "Ike" Carter. Their voices were soon joined by that of the great sculptor and Indigo Sky art gallery founder, Jerome Meadows, and those of two more commentators with whom I was not familiar.
Ike Carter's famously-raspy attention-grabbing voice informed listeners this version of his various broadcasts was called LISTEN HEAR and featured a round-table discussion on different music selections brought in by members of the group. Listening to the show in the weeks that followed, it was a kind of revelation to hear Jackson in concert with the others sharing unbridled enthusiasm for classic jazz musicians like: Ella Fitzgerald, Charlie Parker, Billie Holiday, Thelonious Monk, Sarah Vaughn, Duke Ellington, Yusef Lateef, Miles Davis, and numerous others. Her deep appreciation for jazz--often referred to by Carter as African-American classical music--provided hints regarding how the stories, aesthetics, and energy behind the music might, to some degree, influence her own artistry.
Visiting with Carter, Jackson, and various guests through the low-tech efficiency of FM radio waves became a regular pleasure. The easy simpatico between the sensibilities of the commentators and the brilliance of the music they shared made me feel a little proud to have written the article on jazz for the encyclopedia. It was deeply moving to hear them dedicate the April 12, 2016, program to the memory of Luther E. Vann, who had just passed on April 6. During that broadcast, Jackson spoke of first meeting her fellow artist years before at an exhibition in New York City and referred to him as "one of the best painters in Savannah." Carter would later pay similar tribute on Listen Here to Sandra L. West.
Invitation to a Party
Then time passed as time does and another unexpected development occurred: I received an invitation to a launch party to be held on June 30, 2018, for a forthcoming exhibit of the artist's work.
What!? Really!? This was fantastic news indeed.
The idea of an exhibit of her art excited me because I had only glimpsed samples on the internet and knew the general categorization of her as an abstract artist made Jackson something unique (so far as I could tell anyway). What I knew about Black Women artists came primarily from my work on the encyclopedia and from my adoration for Barbara Chase-Riboud, whom I greatly admired because she also wrote some amazing novels.
It had been a very long time since I'd attended a party of any kind at all. My empathic nature has been known to overload in such situations and get the better of me. I set this thought aside as I walked up the steps of the artist's home and saw in the window a sign which read: HATE HAS NO HOME HERE.
The sign's proclamation bore out as in every room of the house, upstairs, downstairs, on the back porch, in the back yard, and in the adjoining studio, I encountered friends and acquaintances (far too many to name) I had not seen for years. In addition, I met for the first time curator and editor Rachel Reese, along with members of the team who were already playing such an important role putting together the retrospective.
Taking on a Creative Challenge
The suggestion that I consider writing something for the planned Five Decades catalog caught me by surprise. At the time, I was focused on completing and publishing my nonfiction book Dreams of the Immortal City Savannah. It seemed highly unlikely I would be able to conjure enough additional creative energy to write a poem worthy of inclusion in the catalog. Yet the notion of doing so was such a beautiful one it could not be dismissed and I recalled with some small amount of guilt Maya Angelou's statement that the more one used one's creativity the more it increased.
True, the entire volume of ELEMENTAL, the Power of Illuminated Love contained ekphrastic verse derived mostly from meditations on paintings by Vann. But a large number of the poems I'd written since then were elegies acknowledging and mourning the passing of beloved friends or famous individuals. Here gleaming before me at the Five Decades launch party was an opportunity, to paraphrase Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous statement on jazz: to let poetry speak to life by commemorating the ongoing achievements of a largely-unsung s/hero who combined within her person multiple artistic gifts and persuasive passion disciplined enough to infuse those gifts with history-altering purpose.
I therefore promised to consider writing something--most likely an essay but possibly a poem--for the catalog and said I would provide a more concrete yes-or-no answer in a month or so. That was what I said. The almighty multiverse apparently had something else in mind.
NEXT: A Hidden American Treasure Comes to Revelatory Light (part 3 of 3)
Please CLICK HERE to read: Part 1 of A Hidden American Treasure Comes to Revelatory Light.
author of The Wisdom of W.E.B. Du Bois
and Dreams of the Immortal City Savannah
Any attempt to write a biographical essay about someone as multi-talented and prolific as the late Ja A. Jahannes would be incomplete without immersion––or re-immersion––into a comprehensive sample of his works. In Jahannes’ case that would mean listening to diverse genres of music, going through numerous powerful poems, revisiting provocative essays, and revisiting intensely-original memoirs, novels, and plays.
Getting it all done in the short amount of time allotted by deadlines would not be possible but enjoying the challenge would be. In the course of rising to meet that challenge by penning the essay 5 Ways to be Geniuses Together, Celebrating Ja Jahannes, I naturally looked for suitable quotes to include with the essay. Upon finding more than I could use, I was inspired to create the three quotation graphics posted with the article.
From that point, it wasn’t much of a leap to realize that our modern shell-shocked world could possibly benefit tremendously from a collection of quips and witticisms distilled from the glittering torrent of fiction, sermons, librettos, stories, papers, etc., that seemed to flow with such ceaseless determination from Jahannes’ inspired soul. A good title for the collection might be The Wit, Wisdom, and Genius of Ja A. Jahannes. Moreover, if I were a traditional publisher taking on such a project I would push for both an illustrated hardback edition and a primarily text paperback edition.
The Notion of Being Geniuses Together
The first part of the 5 Ways to be Geniuses Together essay contains a short discussion on my allusion to the notion of collective genius. Specifically, I identity the following as a central theme binding the larger body of multi-discipline works by Jahannes:
Being geniuses together (to borrow the phrase from Kay Boyle’s and Robert McAlmon’s classic memoir) makes it possible for human beings to serve as each other’s heroes rather than simply function as each other’s antagonistic nemeses. (from 5 Ways to be Geniuses Together)
I was fortunate enough to experience Jahannes’ application of that concept through a number of shared projects. We first met when he visited a Waldenbooks store I managed in the Savannah Mall (Savannah, Georgia) during the early 1990s. His careful study of the New York Times bestselling titles on the shelves and the sustained attention he gave to the African-American Studies section told me he was someone of rare intellectual sensibilities. I was not offended when he gently waved me away after I offered my assistance but let him know I was there if he should need it.
The Black Writers Project: Something Magical
The first time we actually worked together on a cultural arts project was probably in 1996 when he was one of the authors profiled in the stage production debut of 4 Native Voices. The play was produced by the Savannah Writers Workshop, with which I worked for a decade to help produce literary events and co-edit the Savannah Literary Journal. The next year his long poem “Communion,” dedicated to photographer Roland L. Freeman, was published in the Journal.
In 1998, 4 Native Voices was revived for the first Savannah Literary Festival, coordinated by Miriam K. Center. As part of that same festival, Jahannes joined Word Sculptor Iris Formey Dawson and me as part of a panel discussion on “Southern People of Color Write about the South.” With our more formal introduction via 4 Native Voices and the literary festival behind us, I accepted invitations in 1999 to join him, author Michael Porter, and Formey Dawson at different venues to share our individual brands of poetry with the community. Jahannes named “our little group” The Black Writers Project.
The group might not have been as large or dynamic as the throngs of authors, poets, painters, and musicians who flooded New York City during the Harlem Renaissance, but as black literary artists sharing our works in public spaces we were doing something new. We were helping create what eventually would evolve into the modern spoken word movement.
One of the group’s first assignments was undertaken in March when we joined him at Abyssinia Baptist Church where he served as pastor. For another, we went to the Hitch Village Library and read to a group of excited children. Jahannes knew I had lived in Hitch Village myself until the age of 10 and had often spent time reading and playing in that very same library. He therefore introduced me as one of their own who was now a bookseller and a writer who had returned to them after having lived and written in other parts of the world.
Something magical happened when I passed out copies of a poem called Black Then as I Am Black Now so the children would be able to follow along as I read. I had written it specifically for the occasion to emphasize that being black meant more than the reports about gun violence and drug-busts taking place in their neighborhood and which they saw on the news almost every evening. Halfway through the poem, they picked up on one particular phrase and turned it into a repeating refrain after each remaining stanza:
“…I was black back then
They had added their genius for rhythm to the poem and made it their own. Each time they repeated the lines following my recital of a new stanza I was nearly overcome with emotion. That kind of transference of creative catalyst from one generation to another gave meaning to a way of being geniuses together that Jahannes seemed to appreciate the most. He was, after all, an exceptional educator who made it his mission to not only inform young people but empower them. In this instance, the children had given me as much through their voices as I had hoped to give them through mine.
Further Adventures in Literary Savannah
Contemporary award-winning author of classically-styled works in history, poetry, creative nonfiction, speculative fiction, and journalism.