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Gem of the Ocean opens February 1, 2019

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About Me

Ayodele Nzinga, MFA, PhD "I am an artist trying to touch the world though the medium of creation. I create therefore I am. I am a theater director. I started out as an actress -- I still love the boards as much as I love my next breath. I am a poet. They call me WordSlanger. I founded The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc a non-profit theater troupe based in Oakland CA. We were the troupe in the Yard for 13 years. We are now in residence at The Flight Deck in downtown Oakland. My art is particular. I am talking to you. I am listening to the universe. I am constantly in search of teachers. It is said when the student is ready the teacher appears. I will be grateful the rest of my life for meeting my current teacher, Master August Wilson. I met the master after his death, his affect on my life, knowing, and craft have been profound. I proudly walk with Wilson. I commune with his spirit. I am embiggened by his vision and I humbly pay juba. With the production of Radio Golf the tenth of the ten play Cycle; I proudly claim being the first director to direct the Cycle in chronological order and my troupe, The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc are the first troupe of any size or stripe to ever enact the ritual of the Century Cycle in order. We stand on our art, our art stands on the graveyard at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean, we walk with the Bones and August Wilson. If you have seen us you know, we shine like new money." Nzinga 2016
2018: I walked into the ocean with August Wilson's spirit in 2010.   We walked through a century.    I came out of the ocean in 2016.    In 2019 I return to the City of Bones.  They know me there.


The Sad and Sorry Tale of Caesar Wilkes. (Radio Golf: Production notes #1)

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To understand the end one must have an appreciation for the beginning. So as I begin production of Radio Golf by August Wilson I am compelled to look back over the American Century Cycle to the beginning. I met Caesar Wilks in Gem of the Ocean, the year was 2009 for me, however it was the year of our lord nineteen hundred and four for Caesar and the people in the sanctuary at 1839 Wylie St. So begins this tale of many parts, which is in fact the exploration of a group of tales collectively called, The American Century Cycle.

When one sets out on a quest, which includes the enactment of a ritual, one expects to know more about the thing at the end. Imagine cresting the final hill to see the place you began come into view. It turns out that Wilson’s Cycle is circular. We end on the part of the battlefield on which we entered the fray. Here it is we will find our harvest, here is where we will become victorious in our perfect understanding, or here we lose the sense of the song Wilson has been trying to help us remember.

I played Aunt Ester Tyler in Gem of the Ocean. I learned not to be afraid to remember. Memory serves me now as I shape this tale of Caesar Wilks and invite it to inform my direction of the end of the ritual, Radio Golf, the final installment in The American Century Cycle. As stated, I met Caesar in 2009. I had seen him on a stage but did not recognize him as he was portrayed wrapped in buffoonery.  I have come to understand that Wilson is often thought to be more comforting if played for its inherent humor. Never having been overly concerned with making audiences comfortable; I think those productions do Wilson’s work a grave disservice. Which is not to say the inherent humor does not exist but the form employed by Wilson is tragic-comic, like life itself, both bitter and sweet. I think the comedy will attend to itself and is offered to allow breathing pockets within the drama.

"You die by how you live". August Wilson- Gem of the Ocean

“You die by how you live”. August Wilson Gem of the Ocean

So we come to the first Mr. Wilks, Caesar, Black Mary’s brother, the black law that violated the sanctuary of Aunt Ester the soul washer’s home at 1839 Wylie St, arrested Ester, and killed the underground railroad man Solly Two Kings. If ever a scoundrel was, he would be Caesar Wilkes, but like all things the story of how he became such a villain is the most interesting and instructive part of him.  How and why  did he become the man he became with so little grace and even less compassion? Was there another road open? In its smallest part this is a story of closed roads and taking the road that’s open but it’s more complicated  than mere convenience. One must give consideration to how one got to the road in the first place. Aunt Ester knew those kind of things but not everybody is ready to remember. Some people hold on tight to the pain they know. Caesar’s pain was his breakfast and dinner.

Caesar Wilks was born a striver with a desire to go as far in life as his wit and perseverance would take him. He was also born into poverty, draped in blackness, and found his life inconveniently placed in a hostile environment. That environment of hostility, his unforgivable blackness, and the pernicious poverty that permeated his lean existence formed a field of landmines in his life leaving little room for the long strides of a striver.



After the shootings he is taken to the County Farm where he recounts having to  “bust a couple of niggers upside the head for tryin’ to steal my food”.  Caesar set out to bring order to his confinement. He caught some fellow inmates who attempted to escape because he reasoned their escape did no one any good. “While they out there drinking and enjoying their freedom everybody else on half rations and got to make up their work.” He put down a riot by taking the leader of the uprising on one to one because he saw where a riot was “nothing but bad news.” His talent for beating down his fellow inmates in the workhouse got his sentence commuted, got him a gun and a badge, and saw him installed as the black law in charge of keeping order on the hill. After stewing in the bitterness of so many closed roads he found the path that was open to him.

Dressed in the respectability of his badge and gun Caesar returns to the bank and literally uses them as collateral to buy his first piece of property. Even this questionable advance is colored by the uproar caused by a white man selling him a ramshackle piece of property for three times its worth. He remarks, “They tried to kill him for selling to a Negro, he took the money and ran.”

Our striver has arrived, his arrival is darkened by his observation, ” Niggers got mad at me, said I must have thought I was a white man ’cause I got a hold of little something. They been mad with me every since. Everybody mad at me.”  He is speaking to his sister asking her to remember how steep his climb has been and how much it cost. His plea is the most elegant stating of how *”King Buzzards” are made I have ever encountered. But not elegant enough to garner forgiveness from his sister Black Mary. Some transgressions are forgivable. Black Mary disowned him for the murder of Solly Two Kings and the violation of the sanctuary offered at 1839 Wiley St. 1839 Wiley is the home of Aunt Ester the repository of memory that deserves her own paper. Suffice it now to say here that she is the voice, memory and soul of Africa singing here, on the other side the water uniting both sides. Some things are beyond forgiving or understanding but they have a story none the less. This is in part the story of King Buzzard walking in the strange land across the water.

adimu solly two kings gem 2010

Above-Solly Two Kings. (Adimu Madyun) Lower Bottom Playaz produced Gem of the Ocean in 2009 and again in 2010 as a part of The American Century Cycle Project, in Oakland CA

Below- Caesar and Black Mary from the 2010 production. Stanley Hunt and Niko Buchanan in rehearsal.


In part this story is one of hunger that resides in the soul. There is a human imperative to “become”. Where is the someone who dreams of being nothing?  It is in fact, the dream cooed over all babies, no less for  brown babies, the direction to become “something”, to become “somebody”.  In many parts of Africa there is the belief that individual personal destiny coincides with group harmony and prosperity. One has a destiny to fulfill, a purpose that is connected to the balance of the whole. Each individual must find and embody his/her purpose or the individual and the village around him falls into imbalance, lacks harmony, is unwell. Is there anyone who wants with all their heart to fail to find their place in life? Caesar’s actions are the actions of a man seeking personal fulfillment in the narrow confines of an oppressive society in which even his peers limit his ability to go forward in life. On one hand his progress in the face of such massive impediments must be viewed as a testament to his personal determination to “become someone”. One however must wonder at the cost and the affect of his relentless pursuit of” becoming.”

We come to know in Radio Golf that having secured his place in the world Caesar grew prosperous and founded Wilks Realty. His family became one of the most prominent families from the Hill District. The Hill District has been a major character in The American Century Cycle. We have spent all of our 100 year quest in this neighborhood with the exception of a short trip down route 66 to Chicago with Ma Rainey. The real estate of the Hill District has become emblematic of all once red lined, redeveloped ad- nauseam, now gentrified spaces for me. It is easy for me to see Oakland Ca in the telling of Wilson’s tales that emanate from the Hill. This contested space has been and continues in Radio Golf to be the battlefield for striving to become.

In Radio Golf we meet Harmond Wilks, our second Mr. Wilks, is the paternal grandson of our first Mr. Wilks.  He has benefited from his grandfather’s industriousness. He is a member of the Black elite. As the curtain rises, it is Harmond, Caesar’s grandson, who is busy with the business of redeveloping the Hill District.  His realty company is one of the largest Black owned businesses in town and he has invested heavily in a plan that depends on the area being declared blighted. Once the area which includes Aunt Ester’s now abandoned house is declared blighted with the use of minority tax incentives Harmond stands to make his green money even greener in rebuilding the once vibrant Hill. As you may recall we lost Aunt Ester in the ninth installment of the Century Cycle, King Hedley, II. We discover Harmond has unwittingly and not quite legally acquired the property located at 1839 Wiley St. It is slated for demolition. Caesar violated 1839 Wiley and now Harmond plans to demolish it.

Harmond, who is also running for Mayor has a dream of revitalizing the Hill. He wears the suit of a striver, whose desires for better, exceed his own personal needs. He is at heart a man of high moral fiber who envisions the change he dreams for the near dead Hill District as his legacy. But even in the most noble of dreams there is room for the whole of a story and when Harmond learns the history of 1839 Wiley St. he is forced to decide what is right and his struggle to stand in the light could cost him 100 years of hard-won progress.

In this work we consider the sins of the fathers, at what price assimilation, what real success looks like for those wrapped in unforgivable blackness, the path to redemption, the cost of traveling the only roads open and what the absence of Aunt Ester means in our lived realities as we continue our never-ending search for equity here in the strange land across the water.

This tale will continue as my production of Radio Golf continues, and my understanding of what the trip home, minus Aunt Ester means to me as a student of Wilson, a theater maker, and a human being wrapped most firmly in unforgivable blackness than has grown deeper in shade since beginning this quest with Wilson.

The Lower Bottom Playaz complete the chronological production of the American Century Cycle by August Wilson under the direction of Ayodele Nzinga, on December 18th, 2015. If you are interested in reading more about the Lower Bottom Playaz Inc, American Century Cycle Project, which began in 2010 please visit: www.TalesofIronandWater.com and explore the articles under the “Ghost of Wilson” tab. If you would like to join us for the historic closing production of the project visit: www.lowerbottomplayaz.com to purchase tickets for performances of Radio Golf.

Contact Ayodele Nzinga at wordslanger@gmail.com , conversations about August Wilson and The American Century Cycle warmly invited.




*”King Buzzard” a term attributed to African slave traders who trafficked slaves to Europeans during the great transgression of the Middle Passage the artery for the Transatlantic slave trade that bled Africans bound for slavery in America from West Africa. The legend of the Red Cloth says there will be no peace in this world or the next forKing Buzzard.




The Origins of African-American Culture – JStor

All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions …. red cloth. But in another taleKing Buzzard, an African king, was condemned to travel alone through the world  …

African American Culture – Documents

documents.mx › Documents

Apr 10, 2015 – In Gomez’s words: “It is a study of their efforts to move from ethnicity…. In one set, Africans were tricked onto slave ships by Europeans offering them red cloth. But in another taleKing Buzzard, an African king, was condemned  …

[PDF]The Vile Trade – Carolina Academic Press

The vile trade : slavery and the slave trade in Africa / Abi Alabo. Derefaka … [et al.].…..length and breadth of Nigeria, where its impact in terms of awareness is im- …elsewhere dubbed the “red cloth” tales, a reference to the ubiquitous presence … “King Buzzard” story as the vehicles by which posterity would learn of African  …

Radio Golf By August Wilson (pre-production notes)

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King Hedley II written by August Wilson, is the 9th play in his American Century Cycle. Directed by Dr. Ayodele Nzinga and performed by The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc; King Hedley II is currently on Broadway in Oakland, CA. at the Flight Deck, located at 1540 Broadway. Come see it and enjoy!

King Hedley II written by August Wilson, is the 9th play in his American Century Cycle. Directed by Dr. Ayodele Nzinga and performed by The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc; King Hedley II is currently on Broadway in Oakland, CA. at the Flight Deck, located at 1540 Broadway. Come see it and enjoy!

The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc (LBP), a small scrappy theater company in Oakland CA, are about to become a part of theater history.  They are in production for Radio Golf by August Wilson which will open on December 18, 2015 at The Flight Deck on Broadway. Radio Golf will be the tenth consecutive LBP production of Wilson’s crowning achievement, The American Century Cycle. LBP took up the mantle to become the first theater company to formally stage the entire Cycle  in 2010. With their production of Radio Golf they become that company.

Pre Production Notes

In the first installment of The American Century Cycle, Gem of the Ocean, we started out in the house at 1839 Wiley St., the house with the red door, Aunt Ester’s house.  It is fitting we should end our journey  here at Aunt Ester’s house as the battleground for Radio Golf, the final installment of the Cycle. Souls are still being washed on Wiley St, even though we lost Ester in King Hedley II, the ninth installment. By returning to Ester’s house we are making a circle back to where we started. I find that, and Master Wilson, most elegant.

We are about to do what we said we would do in 2010. It was such a big undertaking until I am not sure that anyone other than us realize how much we bit off. That we would be here, now, is nothing short of miraculous, and that’s the small of it — it has been such a blessing to those of us who stayed the course.  This is such a pregnant moment for me as a theater maker. It is bittersweet and filled with a quiet power. Everything is before us as a theater company and so much is behind us as a group of artist dedicated to a single purpose creating together for a sustained period of time. In this moment we can argue that we will save the house on Wiley St. which is slated for demolition as the curtain rises on Radio Golf.

We have reached the end of a mythical quest with Wilson as our cartographer we have traveled through time and consciousness by the completion of his elegant circular ritual we have arrived at our destination. We are home.  We have come ashore firmly dressed in a cosmology,  in possession of an epistemology, rooted so firmly in our soul that our arrival is only understandable in the context of remembering and going home. We have traveled from who we were, to who we wanted to be, by realizing we are enough.

We may yet save the house on Wiley St. . We know of a certainty we will build it again if it is torn down.   It’s a metaphor; we are the foundation of the house on Wiley St., if we can wrap ourselves around that, then, we know they can’t tear down the house, Aunt Ester is alive, the song is strong. We are that song. We are the children of the Diaspora, the fruit of the bones, without sanctuary in search of a resting place carrying the foundation of home within.  Thus we may still save the house. It’s all metaphor and the purest of truth.

Metaphor and symbolism are part and parcel of  the ritual offered by Wilson. We have learned to speak the language, to carefully read between the lines, and to connect the dots between Wilson’s history of the twentieth century to our lived realities here in the twenty first century.  Having learned the game it is my great pleasure to play with the master’s toys in his house at least once more.

We are mining the lessons and the message already. As usual, for us our real life becomes a part of each story. As we enter Pittsburgh’s Hill District in its final throes of being remade at the turn of the Century we are reminded of how much our hometown of Oakland has changed in the mere space of the five years since we began our Century Cycle Project.

We are no longer in the theater built for us. It no longer exist. Most of our theater troupe no longer lives in West Oakland where we started out. Most of us can’t afford to live in the area we dedicated ourselves to revitalizing with culture and self determination. Our neighborhood, once one of the poorest in America, has become one of the most expensive neighborhoods in California. Like the characters we met in Gem of the Ocean and Joe Turner has Come and Gone we are looking for home and opportunity in places we had not imagined as choices. Most of these places are in fact are not choices in the literal sense of the word.

To say the least our lived experiences leave us in a most interesting place as we begin production for the only installment of the Cycle told from the standpoint of potential developers, who happen to be Black. We are on slightly different terrain in this play. Usually our main focus is on common folk with lessons for all of us about complex issues. This time we focus on the hearts and minds of Dubois’s talented 10th. Our hero’s are very comfortable and upwardly mobile folk on a move. They are not suffering from a lack of resource or opportunity. Their poverty is of a different stripe. It allows us to look at a manifestation of trauma not well examined since Caesar Wilkes explains why he hunts Black people for a living in Gem of the Ocean. I have always thought that monologue was one of Wilson’s greatest gifts in the cycle.

In that monologue Caesar tells us how he lost his soul. He speaks in great candor about his journey as a striver and how he took the only road left open to him. Caesar figuratively murders freedom in Gem of the Ocean by killing Solly Two Kings. He violates the sanctuary of 1839 Wiley the home of Aunt Ester to do so. We still have time to unfurl the mystery of Black Mary, Caesar’s sister who we believe at this point joined the myth of Ester Tyler, who of course is symbolically much more than a 300 year old woman. We will return to this thought in later writings. But for now we do know somethings for a certainty,  in Radio Golf we come to know that Caesar Wilkes regrets where he found himself, and went to great lengths to make right his wrong. It is his act of contrition that sets the stage for Radio Golf.

Radio Golf offers space for a reexamination of wealth, legacy, and loyalty in the context of a marginalized people in a material culture.  It allows us to question what success looks like from multiple vantage points.  We are afforded a vehicle to examine our interconnectedness in a  way I hope makes audiences quietly uncomfortable in the consideration of  the simple truth: right is right and right don’t wrong nobody.

Radio Golf starring The Lower Bottom Playaz, directed by Ayodele Nzinga opens 12/18/15 in Oakland Ca. at The Flight Deck, 1540 Broadway. Ticket info on website:http://www.lowerbottomplayaz.com . Information :510-457-8999.

King Hedley, II Post Show Notes

koran streets as King HedleyKoran Streets as King Hedley, 9/2015 Oakland photo by TaSin Sabir

They say King Hedley II, is the darkest play in  the American Century Cycle by August Wilson. Dark with all its connotations is an interesting take. It is dark. Dark like black life, dark and heavy like the history of North America’s Nation within the Nation. Dark like a burn on a soul that won’t comprehend the enduring nature of the trauma initiated by the Transatlantic Transgression, the lived experience of chattel slavery, and its living legacy in its descendants.

If you want to know why things are the way they are you might consider Wilson a source of spiritual information. It is not history Wilson seeks to address rather  its the fullness of every-day-ness, the extraordinary complexity of the ordinary, the enduring and  universal struggle of North American Africans through the decades of the twentieth century to find the center that keeps shifting.

I have always invested Wilson with the ability to be in two times at once: the current moment is always made more clear by looking at his reference to a specific point in the past. I have come to understand that this is not so much a trick of Master Wilson as it is an intentional testament to what the “illusion” reveals; not a lot has changed at the core of North American African existence in North America in the last one hundred years. It is not Wilson’s ability to reside in multiple time frames but rather the unchanging nature of barriers to inclusion and the methods of exclusion perfected over time that we observe in Wilson’s Cycle.

Two Americas

Wilson’s work is important because it sets the two America’s side by side and offers a view of the center from off-center. The better to understand that there are two songs of Americas living side by side in dissonance. The song of America that echos in the world is one of democratic strength, stewardship, might and compassion. There is a moral note borne in its declaration of being a Christian nation that implies certain ethics are in play within greater society where progress is seen as both natural and inevitable. There is a public good and a standard by which this nation views itself.

Yet there are consistent anomalies like the persistent gap in wages and job attainment that exist between well qualified black applicants and their white counterparts. Disproportionate incarceration, as a result of  disproportionate contact with law enforcement and lack of access to competent legal representation is another point of observation as is the lack of correlation between education and employment prospects in emerging fields. Another would be the tenuousness of geographical community. Just as The Hill District  is a topic of contested space throughout Wilson’s Cycle the relationship with geography, community, space in which to thrive, and the concept of belonging have been and remain a troubling and complex point of reflection in considering tales of the two Americas.

There are multiple places where one can observe the great divide one could visit a court room, a hospital, a school,  a Fortune 500 company, a tech campus, or perhaps more telling pay attention on Sunday morning to who prays where. There are two Americas.  One has an infrastructure that helps to contain the other which stubbornly persist in refusing to be homogenized with a vigor equal to that which seeks to contain and.other it.

In Gem of the Ocean, Wilson introduces us to “The Mill”, the only source of employment, along with its blatant racism and overt hold overs from share cropping thefts of labor, by the end of Gem the mill has been burned by Two Kings.    Solly, a freedom fighter from the Underground Railroad, is murdered by Caesar the black lawman who tragically found a way to go forward against the obstacles he faced by siding with the system of containment in place. Caesar sees no way for the poor blacks to survive without the meager chance for subsistence offered by the mill. He predicts deeper poverty, the decline of morals fed by unmet need, the rise of criminality, and more as the result of the absence of even less than half a chance. Solly acts out of the philosophy espoused by Aunt Ester. “If the wheel is broke somebody got to fix it”. By burning the mill he forces some other way into reality. Some other way must be discovered even if it must be created.  The Nation buried within the Nation exist in search of the tools to fashion a way from what appears to be no way.

The Nation within the Nation is a push me pull me phenomenon. It is a place we are constricted to as well as a cosmological event we are joined in, feed, construct by our nurture, a place in the center of the whirlwind – the eye of the storm we stand in endeavoring to become. It is what we become that is in question.

The Black Lens 

Off center is an instructive view. It is a view of the center from outside. If the narrative of America from its center its a song of self, a kind of authorized autobiography that is carefully curated then, reading from the side lines gives us a less invested view, one that can afford to not be politically correct because  political correctness has never served it outside of the earshot of those invested from the center. Here we measure affect divorced from dressed up language of intention, the pig without the lipstick.

Where else can you get a comprehensible context of life as experienced by those behind the veil unless you step behind the veil  to bear witness its beating heart. It is a marvel left untold center stage in the drama of America. Wilson takes us into the cauldron of the lived existence of ordinary people to experience the compelling tragedy of reality meeting rhetoric in the brightness of  stage lights so that we can see the places where the peeling paint attempts to obscure a profound brokenness.

A Black lens is a view from the center of the Nation within the Nation. In its gaze, black life is the center of the universe aware of sitting in the belly, orbiting within an internal logic.

Enduring Trauma & Dark Cycles

Hedley is a view of enduring trauma unmitigated by substantive progress. It is a tale of barbed wire, blood rituals, and dying to go forward. It is the observation of the everyday chosen over the stories of exceptionalism that feed the sense of “real black life” as captured by Wilson. There is little room to argue the success of numerous North American Africans within greater society however they are the exception not the rule.  Nor is the rule the parade of mug shots and short walks in handcuffs that populate the evening news , rather the rule is reflected in Wilson’s parade of ordinary people struggling to find their way into the dream of American equity.

Wilson  harnesses the hope, the determined struggle, the callings and failings of  a tribe stranded in the process of transition wanting to “be” in the most literal sense while trying to become at the same time. The Cycle is replete with round unvarnished tales that reflect Wilson’s mastery of storytelling and offers a view of humanity obscured by  its lack of access to the stage of the American public sphere. In his tales from off-center he connects the hopes and desires of these dark spaces in the authorized biography of America to the shining ideals America uses to light its way.

Wilson lights the considerations of love, honor, duty, dignity, and the desire to thrive complexified by  invisible lives and dark history. He clears the stage for the articulation of how it is we sit behind the veil, the coldness born in the shadow of America’s song of itself, and the tragic rawness of sitting so long in the storm. His work is the storms song remembering itself , valuing itself, singing itself whole again.

The ever two-ness in which we sit and the blocked paths are the geography of  Wilson’s work in a figurative sense he demands we understand the distance Caesar Wilkes travels from murdering Solly Two Kings to remembering what he did not know what he had forgotten. We know something in him shifts when we reach Radio Golf, (the final installment in the Cycle), we discover he assumed the taxes on the sanctuary he violated in Gem of the Ocean, ( first installment),  1839 Wiley St, the home of Aunt Ester. Caesar’s tale of origin has always struck me as instructive. The lesson begins in the first installment.  Caesar becomes Caesar because there seems no other path to success in life and he is a striver with a hard-wired imperative to survive.  He becomes successful in the eyes of those beyond the pale at the cost of disconnecting from what placed him behind the veil and taking what he perceived as the only path open to success by becoming an overseer.   Yet he becomes steward to Aunt Esters sanctuary where the  blood memory of self as articulated by the mythic Ester guides dark travelers for a century that we know about.  In the distance of the cycle Caesar comes full circle and reaches some understanding with his song of self.   The Nation in the Nation is still traveling the road of Caesar’s logic trying to understand the cost of unsung, squandered, and lost songs of self. Wilson urges us to make it a consciousness interrogation and charges us with manifesting the fortitude to insist we be fully sung.

Resistance & Sacrifice

Resistance and sacrifice are implicit themes in all of Wilson’s work.  They are brought center stage in King Hedley,II as are love and honor all metered through the motif of blood.

What must North American Africans sacrifice to a be part and un-separated parcel of the American pubic sphere? What must be let go, what part of the self must be set adrift, amputated to find firm purchase in the public square of American consciousness?

The redundant reference to the song of self, the need for reconciliation between now and how it came to be, the recognition of the point of origin and coming into being Africans who are North Americans, the struggle endured in pursuit of belonging, and the cost of the journey are touchstones for Wilson’s retrospective of the twentieth century.

Wilson strongly suggest  that we have an innate “self” guided by a cosmology, an epistemology that resides so deeply in us we may have forgotten it but it has not forgotten us so it keeps itself alive in narrative personified in the water wise metaphor of Aunt Ester, traveling a line, emanating from the ocean anointing us as a new tribe here – ever African and American. Wilson embodies in theater pieces the lived experience of Du Bois’s theory of two-ness. The work gives flesh to the narrative of the  lived experience of being cast into seeking wholeness, looking for a song of self even if we don’t know what it is we are searching for,  and a textured consideration of what we are trying to reconcile. Wilson is the great interlocutor, interrogating our experience in the context of American progress, wanting us to claim our part of the story, to tell the truth to ourselves about what’s been lost, what can be gained here, and to do the work of conceiving how we go forward, who we will become. One of the central questions posed by Wilson’s work is what it cost to become American from the lens of those bound both willingly and without choice within the Nation in the Nation.


Wilson wants us to know that redemption is a necessity. He calls attention to the way in which we sit in the belly. He has cast us as our own redeemers. No one else is coming to right the wheel. It is our duty to find a way to harness the wind  if we want it to blow this way. If we want to sit on top of the mountain we must find the key. He wants us to know that we know. We know because we have lived the story-we were there. He wants us to remember — to connect events to one another, and to believe the story it tells when you stack one decade a top another. He wants us to be clear on what progress looks like. He wants us to recognize cycles, where we bent, where we were broken, and to create options where none seem to exist. He wants us to remember that we are able, we are enough, we were born with dignity and honor. He wants us to know that we have a duty to life itself, that duty is to live, living is not the same as surviving and he wants us to note that. He wants us to see ourselves as dignified in our struggle to create a way out of no way, to observe the ways in which we leave the path, and the cost of losing one’s self.  He wants us to be awake in our journey and to understand the things that bind us, the things that sustain us, and to value them appropriately. He wants us to celebrate the ordinary and accept it as the space in which extraordinary things can be achieved. He wants us to make our better, best. Redemption could come any day it does not require a special day. The day will be made special by the song we choose to sing.

Wilson as Redemption Song


We are wandering in the wilderness; all there is to save us is an unsung song of self. If you can’t imagine North America as a wilderness you have not experienced history from my perspective. My people were captured and sold into servitude by a savage country founded in violence stolen from the indigenous people they found living in what they named North America. They made a grave yard of the Atlantic Ocean in the process of the inhumane  transporting of millions of human beings bound for the most dehumanizing bondage the world has ever witnessed.

Once here they were stripped of semblance of humanity save that they claimed for themselves. They were for all intent obliterated, left unable to trace tribe, village, religion, language, or worldview. They were rewritten as property to be used in any manner seen fit. The concepts of honor, love, and duty were undone as were the institutions of marriage,childbearing, and by default family, all torn apart and set outside of the African– now slave, in a society that placed the slave outside of humanity.

If they ran they were hunted. If they resisted they were slaughtered. They were set afire, and hung from trees. They were caged, bartered, sold, raped, murdered, and considered no better than animals of the field.

Slavery ended and they were set free into nothing with nothing to make their way out of no way. This country has shook them from place to place in so called migrations which under closer scrutiny more resemble refugees fleeing.

Wilson’s work offers a view of the 20th Century in North America from the view of the descendants of cooks, mammy’s, share croppers, garbage men, waitresses, nail makers, steel workers, those that bent their backs to set the telephone poles in the ground and drive the railroad ties, the collective of America’s Blues people. These are their stories, this is their song of survival and the every present quest for equity in this land of equality where lynchings made their way into the new millennium and one can make a cogent case that slave catchers still exist with body cams in black and whites and they neither protect or serve us in the most literal sense.

Wilson places us center stage between the epic events of this countries history in our daily reality as ‘most human’ in search of honor and dignity. He credits us with the means for reinvention as borne by our achievements here and our legacy which stretches beyond the shores of this continent to embrace a highly developed sense of community, a view of god, a sense of worth, a cosmology, an epistemology, an artful aesthetic, and worldview that we managed to hold onto, albeit it in shreds. We are trying to remember who we are in a world that changes but manages to leave us standing in the rear of the line.

When we see our sense of continuity as a song emanating from the collective soul we can begin to grasp the enormity of Wilson’s gift to us. In his Cycle he has captured the essence of our blue black determination to thrive, our brokenness, our insistence on a share of what we built, our loving hearts, our patient longing, our twisted paths, the barbed wire, the places we leave the path, and wander into the dark, the places our light is made and the chance of wholeness waiting in remembering, claiming, and singing our song of self. It is a redemption song carved from the blues instructed by jazz and re imagined in hip hop, it is our beating heart saying I Am.

It has been a great honor to stage this work. I will be sorting the gifts it has offered up for the remainder of my life. I have been hugely influenced by Wilson and I am grateful. I invite you to join us as we finish our American Century Cycle Project. We are currently offering King Hedley, II at the Flight Deck through September 6th.

Hedley is a beautiful work for right now in North American inner cities. It offers a glimpse into the beginning of gun proliferation in urban spaces. The era of Reaganomics, Crack decimation, and inter-group violence have a sick relationship that continues to influence our quality of life. It’s a raw wake up call, a gun shot in the night, the site of a train wreck…sometimes you must go back to see now more clearly. King Hedley, II offers that chance in a dark, soaring, blues filled blood ritual of a play. You can’t miss it.


King Hedley, II – Blood on top of the mountain I


It’s 1985 and papers are full of drive by shootings. There is no work.  In the Hill District of Pittsburgh PA and across the nation people are trying to grow opportunity out of rocky soil. The times are violent on multiple levels. It’s a hard time to be born into and a hard time to raise a family or define it once it’s been busted asunder and not yet quite found its way back together.

King Hedley, II the unborn child of Ruby in Seven Guitars is a grown man who is trying to grow himself a life. The soil he has inherited is rocky and hard but its “him” he must make life out of what he has been given like Rose instructs Cory in Fences. You have no choice but to make life from what you have. How can you otherwise. As Lyons quotes Troy to Cory in reflecting upon Troy’s life, “You got to take the crooked with the straights”. Lyon’s reflection comes at the event of Troy’s death where we are given the image of him finally striking out and death claiming him. I note he lives on in Lyon’s carrying forth of his philosophy of life. You have to work with what you have but what if its not enough? Then, what to do?

King has crookeds he is trying to make straight. He is determined to put something in the world. Determination to strive demands you make what does not exsist. “If the wind don’t blow your way”, you must find a way to harness the wind. King like Floyd Barton before him in Seven Guitars, like Levee in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom carry the dark seed of desire to move forward in the world. They will create their own wind even if they are consumed in the vortex it creates. They are the will to go forward wrapped in steel. Marked in third grade as unruly King tries his best to live in a world that is too small for him. He can’t fit in so he must make it bigger. He wants to grow something so he plants a seed. He declares its right to live. He takes a chance even though he only has rocky ground. He tends and defends his seed hoping to grow wind that blows his way.

Even in his desire to grow something he travels with a Glock nine mm looking to murder a man. He feels he must in order to be in the world.  The world in which it can come down to me or him in a second and one transgression demands another, and then another. In a world where honor is spelled in blood and manhood is defined by who is left standing even if it cost chunks of your life. In this world being jailed and prison time are still common tales. Remember how Wilson bends time. Then is now. Now is then. Still refers to moving forward from Joe Turner has Come and Gone. King has done time for one murder. A man cut him and he eventually killed his assailant who he remembers as “simple ass Pernell, – a sneaky motherfucker”. Now Pernell’s cousin is stalling him because this world demands blood for blood. Blood is a theme in King Hedley, II.

Blood as life, as a lifeline, as honor, as currency to a better safer life, as the gift of life and as cause for death all play out in this blood play. King Hedley, II believes his father is Hedley, I. Floyd Barton who took his last chance trying to create opportunity for his life in Seven Guitars was murdered by Hedley, I, who takes him for the ghost of Buddy Bolden who he believes is bringing him his fathers money. Hedley kills Floyd with a machete. The machete is given to King along with the task to wipe the blood off of it. We wade in blood cycles trying to find a way to make something grow. King is a tragic figure worthy of Sophocles or Shakespeare. Is he sacrifice or the forerunner for the Messiah who will redeem us from the cycles of blood in which we as a people are drowning in as I write?

Ester dies in this play but as the Soothsayer (TruthSayer) Stool Pigeon says the door to her house has long been blocked and the path grown over. King says he was told she died of grief. Stool Pigeon confirms it, “died with her hand stuck to her head, in 366 years she ain’t seen nothing but grief, it all ganged up on her.” When Ester dies a terrible storm rises and lights go out as houses are blown down across the town and her black cat dies. We wait for the blood that will bring her back if she has not yet used up her nine lives.

The nation within the nation a black cat with nine lives landing on its feet after blood bath after blood bath, struggling on, praying, trying to plant, waiting for a rebirth of life big enough for dreams of thriving.  A hot dark slice of land with hard dirt full of rocks and pitfalls that end in blood is where King tries to grow life. I recognize this blasted landscape as being the geography of our lives. The systems with different rules, the set ups, the predictable downfalls, and the determination to go forward are familiar. The men we will meet here are men we know. Men waiting for opportunity, following the dream, making the dream, and killing the dream are all here waiting for us to overstand how they became who they are, to make us want them to find peace, for us to overstand the need for blood in blood out rituals, last chances, and dreaming anyway.

Come and see where it leads us.

King Hedley plays though September 6th at The Flight Deck in Oakland CA. Starring The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc who are dedicated to staging the Century Cycle by August Wilson in chronological order. With King Hedley they open Season16.Continua: The American Century Cycle Project. Hedley is the 9 of a 10 play cycle also referred to as the Pittsburgh Cycle.

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The Lower Bottom Playaz poised to complete The American Century Cycle Project.

King Hedley II is the beginning of the end of The Lower Bottom Playaz, Inc., momentousAmerican Century Cycle Project. King Hedley is currently running at The Flight Deck on Broadway in Oakland CA. It opens The Playaz, main stage for Season16.Continua: The American Century Cycle Project and only leaves Radio Golf which will be main stage in December 2015 at The Flight Deck, concluding both Season 16 and The American Century Cycle Project.

Seven Guitars

The Playaz began production of The American century Cycle in 2010 after producing Gem of the Ocean in 2009 and falling into relationship with the spirit and intention of August Wilson, America’s greatest playwright living or dead. In 2010 I announced our intention to be the first company to ever fully stage the Cycle. In 2015, with Hedley up and running my troupe and I are poised on the edge of the completion of a ritual never fully enacted. We play for the Master in most humble gratitude for his generous blessings upon us as we have struggled to manifest this work. It has been a journey that has taken us places we could not have imagined and even more important it has brought us home.

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We are producing Hedley and Golf in our new house in uptown Oakland. The journey from our own out door theater in West Oakland to a residency in an indoor 100 seat black box in uptown has been a tumultuous journey full of pathos, falling to rise higher, refusing to fail, striving and daring to fly in the dark to find our light. We are going to be the first to formally stage the Cycle in chronological order. No other company has ever done so. The Green Room recordings were done after we started our journey with Wilson and they come as close to chronological production as anything ever done but they are recordings of readings. Some companies have staged all ten works in the order Wilson wrote them. No company has ever achieved what we are poised to accomplish.

"You die by how you live". August Wilson- Gem of the Ocean

“You die by how you live”. August Wilson- Gem of the Ocean

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In some ways its been a lonely journey. Not a lot of attention has been given our effort. We are a small company that started out as a Gypsy theater performing in non-traditional spaces including half way houses for reentry populations and shelters for the homeless.  A 100 seat outdoor theater was built for us in West Oakland where we did 13 Seasons of theater. We did Shakespearean adaptations, established the Shakespeare in the Hood series, toured Mack A Gangsta’s Tale to violence riddled areas of Oakland and Richmond, CA. We did an original work, Mama at Twilight: Death by Love that frankly examined the HIV growth in black communities by interrogating gendered roles and community taboos. We established our brand around telling stories that facilitated vitally important community discussion. We honed our craft and survived and very quietly became one of the greatest opportunity for black actors and theater makers in the East Bay. The community organization that partially funded our work stopped funding our productions mid way through our production of The Century Cycle and we became the only theater company to produce in The African American Museum and Library at Oakland CA. where we independently produced Fences. We then took up residency in The Flight Deck where we produced Two Trains Running and Jitney.


Playbill RBG playbill

An American Tale in Black, White and the Blues.

We are so very proud to reach the conclusion of our commitment to August Wilson who in many ways has guided our growth, instructed our direction, and renewed our commitment to our craft, our communities, and our selves. Wilson is the only work we have not felt a need to make site specific as is our habit. In Wilson we see ourselves and we see ourselves as part of the nation in the nation behind the veil in North America, and the universal nature of Wilson’s site specific Cycle (all the plays take place in the Hill Distinct of Pittsburgh PA with the exception of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom). We recognize and have come to overstand Wilson’s song of North America; its our lives, we have lived it, bled it, and learned to sing it with honor and dignity as we have walked with Wilson.

If you have seen our work you know we do Wilson with integrity and passion. If you have not a great theater experience is waiting for you. Join us at our new theater to be a part of our red carpet season as we conclude The Century Cycle Project.

gem of the ocean Wilson by Gayle 10535618_776084975746056_5093821033429427179_o 16 wood two trains hedley back email

Book tickets for King Hedley, II and Radio Golf today:  http://www.lowerbottomplayaz.com/box-office.php

Support us on Indigogo: https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/the-american-century-cycle-project/x/173176#/story


 Eight of Ten:  Jitney, A Director's Note

I am mid way through the production of Jitney. Only 3 shows left. It's the second show of the cycle we have done at the Flight Deck in newly dubbed "Uptown", (used to be plain old downtown), Oakland.  This is our third production since leaving The Yard , (The Sister Thea) in the Bottoms. We started in the Bottoms and now we are Uptown -- we are a success story. What a story it is -- the making of art is often if not always as much a drama as the work itself. We are The Lower Bottom Playaz, we are Oakland's premiere North American African theater company and we have earned every accolade we have ever received.

We are that company Javier Reyes from Colored Ink called the Mc Gyver  troupe for our inventiveness and applied ingenuity. How else would a troupe with the motto, We create what we need from what we have been gifted" roll. We much like our art come from a place of struggle. We are more than entertainment. Our mission is to create community one story at a time. We have become very intentional in embodying our mission. We are serious artist.

We do not create art because it is easy. It is in fact very difficult. Art making in America is costly. We are not wealthy but we have something to say. We are artist out of a necessity -- we have found our purpose. We are gifted. We share the gifts we have been given.  We find a way to make art in spite of the difficulty. We make art as a way of being in the world, as a way of changing the world, as an act of resistance to narratives of lack, marginalization, and scarcity. We are abundantly gifted. We are boundless in our determination. We are dedicated to our craft.

Personally, I stay not because its easy, not because of material rewards, but because art is my calling. The stage is my podium -- I am talking to you. I have been gifted a talented cohort of artist to create with -- that in itself is a challenge. Sitting in a room of geniuses is not all you might think. Genius comes at a cost. And I demand more than mere genius. I am not fond of actors. I am in love with artist -- storytellers, musicians, alchemist who turn story into gospel, magicians who willingly disappear into a character in the name of the story unfolding to show us pain, beauty, horror, injustice,ugly truth, triumphant love and all the other myriad aspects of being. Try herding cats, harnessing fire in a bottle, or aiming a rainbow and you will come to understand what it is to sit in collaboration with genius. I have that privilege.

Yet this is not a cakewalk. It is a marathon in a smorgasbord with all the challenge you can stand .  I may have come to the table ready, but I have grown since I pulled up a chair. I have become very firmly who I say I am.  I am now capable of setting the table. I owe some of that to Wilson. I owe a great deal to the teachers who came to me before Wilson. I owe it to my horse eating great grand parents and the female lineage they bore who taught me how to strive. I owe it to the characters I recognize and have come to love and admire in the American Century Cycle. I owe it to the genius in the room with me trusting me to invoke Wilson properly.  I owe it to my ancestors who walked the path to give me the privilege to claim my gift as my birthright, as my ordained avocation, as my duty to life and nation. I owe it to my nation walking like a blind man in the dark surrounded by  enduring hostility and privilege in this nation divided smothered by the myth of the American dream. I owe it to myself for the struggle doing the American Century Cycle has been.

Doing Jitney was difficult. They are all difficult. I don't expect it will get any easier. Doing what is right, what one should do, what one must to live in the world with dignity in tact is not usually the easiest path. My path has rocks on it. I stay the path rocks and all. I have been called. I have answered. "The destination is worth the journey" as Wilson himself declared. The difficult journey has made me appreciate the lessons learned along the way. We should all know we pay for our lessons in life. With that in mind I am open to the lessons, paying the price for knowing, and determined to remember to remember. I am on the battlefield with Wilson.

With Jitney I claim our space. I mark this point in the journey like Wilson marked completing Jitney which was the eighth play of the ten which would become The American Century Cycle.  He had yet to write the bookends Gem of the Ocean and Radio Golf. This was a point of epiphany for Wilson.  He could see the whole spell. I sit in deep communion with him. I feel this point on the path viscerally. Seeing and knowing have become painful and I channel the pain through the production of art that illuminates the source, and the chance of deliverance from that pain.  I am praying with my hands moving, trying to help construct the healing I need -- the healing we all need. I have the advantage of having the whole spell writ out before me; nothing left but to perform the incantation. I am on verse eight of ten, shoulder to the grindstone, pushing the envelope, anticipating a blessing.

With my commitment to the American Century Cycle. the world I knew has fell apart as I walk the path. The producer and the theater we started with are in our rear view as is the neighborhood we moved into to do art that had the intention of being much more than entertainment. We were Griots coming home to tell the tale of falling forward into the American dream with our souls still in tact.  We had the idea that, if we worked to make it so, it would surely be. My home itself has become an emblematic battleground. Home and the idea of it had to be rethought, are still  being considered as I write. At this moment my only home is in the graveyard where the songs of my ancestors whisper to me -- stay the path. Wilson has blown so much away.

We were not wrong it has just not turned out the way we thought it would. That's okay. We have become fine dancers we have learned to change the steps when necessary but we refuse to leave the path. We are no longer sure where the path will take us. We have faith in our fate, we have surrendered to our destiny, we are doing what we must--sharing the gifts given. We are in alignment. We are the water that Ester speaks of in Gem of the Ocean, we are fluid, we have learned the necessity and rude contours of Diaspora.  None of it matters as much as the fact that this is exactly where we should be. Even the difficulty factor acknowledges we are at the top of a mountain.  Wilson and the ancestors stand there with us waiting for the song. The song must be sung the spell must be completed.

No one not even Wilson has enacted the spell in order. We will be the first. We are in a new theater. We produce our own work. We will finish this spell of a work and move on changed forever having walked with Wilson though the past to the point where Radio Golf ends. We will know more than we now know, and that will inform how we walk though the world carrying the song we have found in Wilson. I have learned a fair amount so far:

One must match walk with talk or become simply sound and fury.

If you pray with moving hands the path will clear.

One's song is the essence of one's being the inner light, the purpose, the soul force, it must be nurtured, it demands to be sung.

We have a duty to life.

We must remember.

If you drop the ball go back and pick it up.

Everything ain't always what it seem.

If you lose sight of your song you will suffer.

You were born free with dignity and everything.

Our stories are enough.

You can't pass the torch to the future and then insist on calling  the music it dances to.

We must consider doing what we have never done if we desire what we have never had.

The past is the key to the present you need it to see the path to the future clearly.

Trust what you know you know.

I am because we are.

If the wheel don't work somebody got to fix it -- it don't matter who it pains.

Right is right and right don't wrong nobody.

You got to tell the truth and stand in the light.

We are enough.

What I have learned is what feeds me now.   Finally we are getting feature stories. To all this I say yes. But as the SF Gate feature pointed out "we have been doing this with very little fanfare." Truth is fanfare cost. You need money for advertising and bells and whistles. We are so grassroots. I value paying artist. I know we eat and that heat and water cost even geniuses. It's nice to finally get reviewed. They say:

The actors capture the essence of their characters, and director Nzinga succeeds in providing the elements necessary to bring them together into a cohesive and unflinching portrayal. “Jitney” is an exceptional piece of theater, well played by this gifted group of artists." --Elizabeth Warnimont

Jitney is a must see. If you can, rush, run, fly downtown to the Flight Deck Theatre at 15th and Broadway, go pass the boarded up buildings from I Can't Breathe & Hands UP, Pants Up! and take a seat...

So the fanfare is coming.

But it's not what drives me. I am driven by what drove Wilson:  the urgency to hear the song . The need to complete the spell. This is my duty to life. If my art is my weapon I have chosen well with Wilson. We are on the battlefield in dark times when the song of self is our most potent magic. The world is poised for change. I can hear it in the people's getting up and taking to the street. The fight is not over. We have not forgotten being born free. We are all called to contribute to a better world. There are forces in place that like the way the wheel works its their job to guard the wheel. I am a Black Arts Movement artist. My art is my contribution to the battle to change what is into what needs to be.  I battle not against personalities but principalities,  this art is spiritual, its a leavening stone, it is resistance. I am emboldened with my hard earned lessons firmly rooting. I am fit for the battle. In the tradition of the Black Arts Movement art is ritual, it is political, it is my calling card for discourse, it is my intra-inter group interface with my humanity. I am teaching while I am learning. This song will be sung.





*The portrait of August Wilson at the top of the article is by James Gayles. It is for sale to support The August Wilson American Century Cycle Project undertaken by The Lower Bottom Playaz in 2010 to be completed in 2015. Inquires to: wordslanger@gmail.com

Jitney Tickets:jitney web banner


The American Century Cycle


Diary of a mad creative: I create therefore I am pt.16

September 15, 2014

Sometimes life will give you lemons. It's not up for debate its a fact. Right up there with the drama of production eclipsing the production of theater. If you claim to be a creative you must be able to think well on your feet. If you have achieved some modicum of success you are probably adept at improvisation and as flexible as a world class gymnast. For years we have thought about filming and selling the story of making art as it is in the trenches. I can not speak for high budget productions, but I am guessing the off camera/stage drama is just as compelling.

If ya got thin skin you might want to consider another profession. If you are overly sensitive or prone to smacking the hell out of those who slight, disrespect, bite ya shit, hate on you, underestimate you, or act as the speed bumps in your path, you probably won't have much time to create. Its all about creating. Even if you have to struggle to bring work to life.

I told you before that theater is the land of Murphy's Law: What can go wrong will. But I learned the lemon metaphor at my Granny's knee. I know how to make lemonade. Only I stop me. If you stand in the path you may get left on the side of the road or perhaps ran over. I drive to the hoop by nature. I look for the blessings, value my haters, and move in one direction, forward.

We envisoned a three day run, got funded to bring a reasonably priced prodution to the people, make our arrangements, cast and went to work marketing. Then the venue went left and we decided to go right or forward.

Right back to where we came from, we can always go home. Forward to the land of Granny's sweet and icy lemonade. I developed an effective work plan for regrouping after coming to land on gate keepers and speed bumps long ago, it goes like this: "You do what you do and I'll do what I do; at the end of the day we'll see where we are." I focus on excelling. I love a speed bump it always gifts me with clarity. It's important to know the lay of the land.

Making lemonade is a talent. Its akin to a cat's ability to land on its feet. I back it with aiming for the moon; sometimes I fall short and land on a star. I'm good with that. I jump higher the next time.

We've had a damn good year. Fighting and scrapping every step of the way but coming out of the muck to bring you some of our finest work to date. We've grown a lot in ten years. We've learned an amazing amount in the past year. We are going to bring you a 11th season to remember and we're going to put this season to bed in style.

We're giving away the house in the style of my mentor Marvin X. Free theater, free food at a venue in the Lower Bottoms. In truth it could not have worked out better if we'd planned it. That's how the universe is when you are quick on your feet, you find the blessings.

We started the season with a show produced by the City of Oakland offered free to the public. It was a hard gig but we rocked it out. To do a free show at the end of the season creates a beautiful book end for a tenth season.

So here's the end of the 10th chapter of The Lower Bottom Playaz, we ate well, worked hard and got strong in 2010. In 2011 we will recommit to "grind hard/shine hard and we'll see you in the theater.

Here's you invitation to our holiday lemonade party:


November 2010


Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt 15

September 15, 2014

Struggle; that is the long and the  short of it. The keynote to the work. It is labor intensive. It becomes my life. Afterwards I am as quiet as a storm that has passed. I reflect in the wake. I am often ill after a show. I note my crash and burn work style that occasionally articulates my need for rest by shutting my body down, respects a gig. The show do go on. Perhaps if I keep a coming date I could live like Dorian Gray; reliant on the art for continued life.

It is a struggle. It is about struggle. The struggle is both metaphor and literal; emblematic and lived reality. It is my essence enacted. I am my art. My art is struggle. I am struggle personified in life and art. The art comes forth from struggle as I struggle to artfully deliver art that delivers.  It's also about learning how to win, how to ascend, how to fly. It is my battleground; my defining moment. Its how I hone my chops, the way I prove to me who I am, and how I cut my teeth to sharpen into fangs. It is the effort of my struggle which brings the food to the table. I struggle to ensure it feeds us all.

I struggle not to stand in my own way. I struggle with my own growth and its omnivorous greed. I struggle to stay open yet move forward. I struggle to come new while remember who I was meant to become. I struggle to continue. I struggle to make it look effortless as I struggle to build on it; to best it; to enjoy it. I struggle to remember not to be afraid to fail while I struggle to insure I succeed. I struggle not to be afraid of success. I struggle to see me as I am in the moment and as I stretch to be more than I am. I struggle to remember that growth can feel like suffering but suffering brings growth. I struggle to remember it's always about growth. I struggle to remember.

It's been a good year for me as an artist. I struggle to accept and appreciate that in a less than stellar year for the world. I am moved by sorrow so as we weep; I write it down. I am a somber voice at a fools party. I wish there was more to laugh about. I applaud those who make me smile. My humor is found lurking in dark irony. I wish for more laughter and less irony but my art is composed of what is.

Gem was an amazing experience. It opened something in me that will is still difficult to articulate. I am more grounded. I am sharper. I have grown. I have been wounded by Wilson and something is growing in the cut. Art should bruise, inspire, provoke, affirm, pose questions and soothe. Gem has done all that and Wilson is offering me more. I accept.

Time for Adisa and Jackmon's work to round off the years lessons. 10 days to the ESSA gig.  Time to go to work.


Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt. 14

September 15, 2014
If you don't decide where you stand you won't know why you fell down. I deal in mental groceries. I want to feed my congregation. I don't do fluff and I ain't trying to cross over. If you want to see me you might have to travel out of your comfort zone. I will make it worth the trip. I don't wanna make Mc Donald' s commercials even if they let me spit. Don't want to sell Adidas or Reboks and bless the Pack; I ain't doing free commercials either. I been around much longer than a summer. I work regular. I create constantly. I am a monster on stage. But I am probably not coming to a theater near you soon. I am in the belly creating for the people. If you need my words they will find you. I am digital across the planet. But I don't leave my comfort zone much. I am comfortable where the white-t's are the suit de jour and Ebonics is the trade language. I am happy where a nod makes you part of a family; where I don't need a pass. I am inspired here and motivated to create in and out of what surrounds me. I am hood rich. I stand with the path makers. I feed folks. I will put you on. I want you to shine. I love the heat of your reflection. I will share the stage. I got room for you to blow up.  But I ain't trying to go too far. I like home and I like it when the world comes to visit. I am proud of home. Not all of it is beautiful but I own it all. Its crowded here, its important to help those who want to leave get out. It's just as important that we make it possible for those who want to stay to thrive. I stand with those who try to make a way. I could tell my stories any where. I choose here. I am not trapped. I have made my decision. I want to be a part of the signs and symbols of success the hood needs. I want to make home a place you can live and grow in. I want community. I build what I need. I have been accused of being reclusive. I guess so. I am happiest when I am creating. I party by working. I celebrate by writing a poem. I show out by writing a play. For fun I do Wilson in 30 days. I am intense. I am passionate. I am an artist and everything is colored by that. I need to be fed. I need to be surrounded by stories. I need the bustle, the dreams, the tears, the determination that the street life offers.  I might visit Martha's Vineyard. I don't want to live there. I need the funk. I need the noise. I need the heat. I need my folks, striving, fighting, winning. I need to see it first hand. I want to be there where the pendulum finally moves. I want to be remembered here; on the frontline, with my pen in my hand and freedom words in my mouth. I am living the life I dreamed about. I am blest.

Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt. 13

September 15, 2014

If it's good make it better. There is no perfect; it's just a direction we can walk in.

Excellence. It's an interesting word that begs the question according to whom to which I answer: Excelling to the degree that what is offered is of high quality and that quality, is apparent to all who partake of the end product or processes to derive that product, that's my definition of excellence.

I have never sought to be a big fish in a small pond. Maybe I see the pond different. Maybe rather than taking my pearls out into the world to pedal them, I want to bring the world to my front door.

I have seen what comes out of la la and I am no longer smitten. I admit I thought less when I was. I am now a fan of thinking. I am no longer enamoured with things that have little substance and I will not do anything for money. I like being a boss. I like calling my own shots. I have high expectations for myself and those I choose to be in relationship with. I like the ability to be able to control who I will and won't work with or for. I take great pride in signing my name to my work. La la requires far to much compromise and too little room for excellence.  If I'm going to do it; I'm going to try to do it right. I am an over archiver. I am not in recovery for it. I am good with it.

I used to long for the day when life would slow down. I have gotten used to the burning house. I do this. But ya gotta admit somethings feel the best when they stop.

Sometimes burning houses, (doing Wilson in 30 days), deprive you of the luxury of dwelling in spaces you find pleasant. It's all movement towards the next mountain. I like dwelling in spaces sometimes. I long sometimes for the time to enjoy the work. I want to enjoy the blessing. I want to savor it. I want the time to be fully in my life, doing it, enjoying it, being thankful and moving forward.

So I love today when I can be with craft in a relaxed manner. No outside work, no appointments, no deadlines, no imminent crisis, just me and Mr. Wilson, alone. together.

I love being able to be home. I love the thought of a hot dinner. (NO PIZZA, NO CHINESE, NO TAKE OUT). God, how I love the wonder of a self ordered day.  How I love not neglecting me. Me and my script, tightening, affirming, hanging out, discovering... this is wickedly, like too much chocolate or gumbo good.

Sorry the thoughts aren't more orderly or poetic today. I feel lazy. Today I'm just an actress with her script and some free time.


Dairy of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am Pt. 12

September 15, 2014

We are who we say we are.

Standing in the footlights paving a road others can follow.

We are on the top of the mountain looking around at the terrain we have traveled.

We are all need rest like air but for now we sport silly grins. Everybody says they had no doubt we would land on our feet. Nice to hear. I'm glad it looks easy; in reality it was brutal.

But here we stand, a bit bloody but unbowed. As predicted each performance improves. We are in the pocket now. We are finally at the good spot; lights, audiences, and applause. This is the part others see. But the unseen remains the truest drama. One day we may be smart enough to package that.

For now its enough if we can remember where our real growth comes from. Rehearsals should be revered by all performers for it is there that the most growth occurs. The performances are icing. Performance is the strutting of works that should only be allowed on stage after rigorous preparation.  Performers are not made on stage but in the preparation for stage. Art is a discipline; one should expect to apply oneself.

I tell actors that I am not interested in actors; I am interested in people who can help me bring life to the stage. I tell them that acting bores me to tears; I am interested in "being", those who can "become" the characters. Some understand and we build together. Others don't understand and they leave confused by their own conceptions of what they think performing is about. Some find the process too grueling and some are only interested in a fast track to Hollywood. I pick through the chafe and cherish the wheat.

The run will be successful, we are doing justice to Wilson and our selves, and though it's a tough time all around; we are on track, and our future looks bright.

Look for us in the footlights, and wear your shades cause we shine.


Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt 11

September 15, 2014

We were born last night.

In the glare of the lights, on a beautiful set, with a packed house, during a balmy evening that was perfect for outdoor theater; we took our first steps.

We stood and we walked.

There is much room for improvement; we are on it.

Like a newborn child we will develop at a furious pace.

The roar was nice, but this is not the time to bask, it's time to grind.

We are still grinding. Pressure has offered up a diamond, but diamonds must be cut and fit into settings. We will continue to grind.

We are the kind of tired you are after a long day's work and we are up early in the morning, no time to rest. Not yet. But it's ok.

We made an effort and witnessed the universe opening to meet us.

Once again the ritual worked, and it worked in time. We are here; ten toes, ten fingers, two eyes and the little squint will fade in time. We are alive and kicking it in the Bottom of the World. Come to West Oakland, see some theater, get ya soul washed.

Wilson's Gem of the Ocean runs through the 17th of October on weekends and we will be there getting better with each show.

I think we are approaching full-grown in grand style.

A few more miles to go before we sleep.

But the forest is beautiful and we are too.




Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Part 10

September 15, 2014

The din of the Theater Godz is deafening; their roar stills the rest of the world.We are about to be born. The portal is opening.

Zen time.

Rubber meets road here, but the time to bemoan final fates is past. We will be standing naked on life's stage in hours.

But we have already defined the parameters of our success. We still need work. We know. We need more time, we know.  We also know that the time is now. Some may understand this as: its showtime, now you stand or fall.

You need to understand that if there is a showtime-we have stood. We will be better tomorrow, and a force to be reckoned with in our final three shows, but tonight we prove who we are, to ourselves, and the world.

If we show up, the show goes up, and we lay it on the stage from begining to end; we are victors.

We win over too little time, not enough money, unfavorable circumstance and anything else you can think of that should of took us out the game. We are who we say we are. We insist on writing our own story and in our story we are victors. We will win because we refuse to fail. We will show up, and stand up, if we should fall; you will find us standing in the same place the next night better for it. We understand that we lead by example so tonight we show you how to show up.

For us the theater is not just acting on stage; its about acting in life. We show up. We stand up. We change things by the work of our hands. Obstacles are invitations to inspiration. We are able to put "us" above I and the story above "us". We are intensely sincere in our desire to model and embody self articulation for our community. We are committed to success. We persevere, we overcome, and have no doubt, in the end, we will excel.

Showtime! I love it. I am at the head of a most magnificent ship there is. Tonight we dock. The journey has been a life changer. I have never felt so good about holding my head high, no matter what. I am the Director of The Lower Bottom Playaz, and we are a hot ticket. We open tonight in Wilson's Gem of the Ocean. If you love us, Wilson, or a good scrap, come check us out.

Come to cheer for us standing up, and then next week come back and cheer for us showing out!

No matter what, I know we got Wilson smiling. We are working on the wheel; we get it, it ain't all what it seems.

We got our anointing from Wilson; come get yours.


Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt 9

September 15, 2014

Ok, so I was whiny yesterday.

Try being me. Although I adore the job it ain't as easy as I make it look.

But I am not now, nor have I ever been alone. I am blessed. I am held, supported, cheered on. And for every hater, and I got a lot, there are three who know all I give haters is the dust from my feet as I stride by on my way to another mountain. Those that hold me are my congregation, and I am, because of them, thus I am their willing servant.

Servants should be joyful. I must remember to remember. I am grateful for the congregation.

Today I remember, when I am down, the wind that drives the boat pauses, and we may not make it to shore. I must remember, sometimes they wait to be told. I must remember to ask, know when to tell and remember to delegate. Ask and if you deserve; it might be given.

My troupe stepped up thus I have troops and today I love actors. Especially those that act so magnificently in real life.

We are at the exit. We will be what we will be; but if you miss it, let me tell you now we are glorious, true warriors.

We know who we are and like Ester say, "in time it will all come to stand in the light."

I give props to the troupe that can. I am in awe of what it looks like when we are on one accord. We got miles to go before we sleep and the baby might have three eyes and be missing a foot.

But we will get there and we will learn the lessons the baby teaches. We will listen harder if he is misshapen. If he is whole and beautiful we will bask for a moment and then we will set our eyes on a higher mountain.  But his existence, Buddha or Quasimodo, will be a testament to our determination not to fail or be undone by circumstance. Our very effort has made us more than we were. We are aware of our flaws but we are reminded of our strengths. We are cultural warriors, the Mc Giver troupe, we are "community theater at its most committed*."

The Theater Godz are not grinning anymore, nor or they laughing. I can smell the gin and cigar smoke on the other side of the exit, I hear the banging of their sticks and the chanting that is syncopated to our birthing rhythm. They are holding us, cheering for us, they got the house bet on us.

* http://www.berkeleydaily.org/issue/2010-10-05/article/36400?headline=Around-About-Onstage


Dairy of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Part 8

September 11, 2014

Yeah though I walk though the valley of shadow.

I will remember to be the light.

I will lead by example.

Head high first into the fray; last to leave the field. I lead the charge by serving the story, the story is all. Everything else and all the others are actually accessories. side dishes, trim. The story is the main-event. I serve us all by remembering that. If we come out the portal sucessfully it will be because of proper midwifery.

I am there when they are ready. I am there when they are not. I will be there if they win. I will be there if they lose.  I am there.

I got my eye on the story. It's all about the story. I serve the story. If I build it the story will come to life.  My job is to tell the story as best I can. I am at most the vessel the instrument that brings the words to life. At least I am the grand negotiator, standing in the center of the vortex, my only protection the text I am invoking: I bargain with crew, producers, and actors to get the text to live on the stage. I am a mid-wife.

I am alone. Surrounded by people with individual agendas, I am alone holding the text in one hand and the responsibility for its embodiment in the other. I am alone yet they all know more than me about how it should be, however they are not as quick to be what I need them to be.

I don't have time to fight over the wheel; I will swim to shore and tow them in if I have to.

Once again, like it's the last time, I'mma give it my all and see what it do; let my actions speak for me. We will get there; we can count the real soldiers then. Right now I'm moving to the goal.

Help me shine or get out-of-the-way; there's work to be done.



Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt.6

September 11, 2014

Its dark in the portal, as dark as the inside of the womb. We are being birthed. Its quite here except for the sound of rhythm pitched just above the hum of white noise. We are traveling faster than light; its impossible to calculate our speed. We are a blur. Do not drift into our lane.

The multiverse is in labor with our efforts. We will soon emerge from the portal. But for now we are caught in the rhythm of being born.

We have become octopus, many hands emanating from a single body.

We travel on faith, eyes closed not to miss the rhythm. No sight necessary. One common goal. We are now us. We are hitting our stride. Our hands are outstretched and we are snapping our fingers in time to the rhythm. Its almost time to dance.

Have I told you what fine dancers we are?

The theater Godz are chanting, rolling bones, smoking big cigars in a room not far away from our stage...we can feel the vibration of their drums.

We are laboring in the dark. Becoming.

Candles have been lit, bells rung, gin poured, sacrifices have been made.

We wait & we work.


Dairy of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt 5

September 11, 2014

Why is every show the hardest show I've ever done?

How can all the damn roads be uphill?

Sometimes, shit just "is".

Nothing ventured; nothing gained.

You can't win it if you ain't in it.

I am not afraid of success; I expect it.

I got high expectations.

So sue me.

You settle. I'm aiming for the moon. If I fail and land on a star ; I'll send you a postcard.

I only know one thing better than trying, doing.

So today I will do.

I will set the bar and they will rise to it. I will get all I need done and feel good in the doing.

Forward is the direction I'm following.

I got marching orders and I'm on a move. I advise you not to stand in the way; I only know one direction.

Note to self: This is my joy. I am not fighting to get somewhere. I am there. I live the life I dreamed. Sometimes it gets heavy but that's alright. I'm strong. I am growing myself. I will be joyful in my labor so that my labor may be joyfilled.


Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. Pt 4

September 11, 2014

Theater is the land of Murphy's Law; what can go wrong will.

I have told you that the drama of presenting drama often threatens to eclipse the intended production.

It's all in the portal swirling madly with the overstanding we are desperately seeking.

Which will speak loudest? We never know, we only know the final verdict will be spoken in the voice of the Theater Godz, and the edict will be law.

Reality is always as interesting as fiction and much harder to survive. In the course of pre-production, we have had illness, birth, incarceration, poverty, employment, school, and family issues that have demanded and threatened the attention of actors. We only had 4 weeks to begin with; we could have easily used six months.

We have lost and replaced one character three times.

We are so under funded its laughable.

We are running a skeleton crew; we can not pay more folks.

Our set is not completed a week before opening.

Our antiquated lighting system is on its last leg and the bold beautiful new set wants more illumination than it can give.

Who are we that we refuse to fail even when success looks improbable. Who are we that the very fact of the improbability of it makes it necessary. Why do we set the bar so high when no one expects us to suceed? "What wind drives us?"

And we are driven. Driven to create the reality we want. We insist on a reality in which we acknowledge obstacles by stepping over them.  We acknowledge a reality subject to perhaps an unfair and disproportionate degree of difficulty even in our efforts to do good. We know we walk uphill both ways and yet we stay on the go. We are creators making opportunity, sense of our reality, charged with creating. We are of the "way out of no way" tribe.

You damn right we are the Mc Giver troupe and we ain't mad. We just do. Nothing has ever stopped us. If we were wiser perhaps we would be afraid. But we don't have time; we only got eyes for the finish line. We are determined.

Creating our own reality; we choose not to fail. We are driven to succeed. The folks that have refused to self select out are standing at the table with grit in their belly determined to bring the pony to the stable. We do. We don't know anything else. We are in the portal fighting for our blessing.

Today we pray:

All stay the course; believe in right over might.

Accept that you are a gift from the multiverse to its self; it wants you to succeed.

Where there is light, there must be darkness, how else could we see the light?

Continue to be fathers, mothers, sisters, daughters, sons, daughters, brothers, family- your dedcation to these roles make you fit to play the roles we demand you play on stage.

Stay in life. It will prepare you to bring it to the stage.

Let us be your refuge; leave it all on the stage, get your blessing.

We support you in your real life. We want you to shine.

We ask:

That the negative move to the left. We are in the room. We are riders of the storm. Ain't nothing you can pull we ain't seen. We plan to win.

Diamonds are created by pressure.

Watch us shine.



Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am: Pt. 3

September 11, 2014

Short time is getting shorter.

Costumes, set, programs, show board, props, lights and sound all still need work.

Being a creative genius is not all its cracked up to be when your mind moves faster than your hands and the reality that you are confined to the same rules of matter, space and time as the rest of humanity sets in to humble you.

But a part of genius is the love the universe has for it, it opens to meet it.

Reinforcements have arrived. Someone crazy, absolutely nuttzz, and brilliant enough to see the potential, someone who done been baptized in hood fire and came out shining has come to be my extended brain. 50 track brain meets 50 track brain. He walks, he talks, he executes!

The tide is turning. It's my turn. The theater Godz are grinning if not smiling. I know what pleases them and I will continue to sacrifice. But its hella proper that I should be blessed with a wingman just in time to stop me from losing my mind.

All say, "the Godz love a Grinder".

I am encouraged.

Today I chart the final stretch; knowing full well Godzz laugh as people plan. I plan.

I need the Godzz to laugh with me as we ride the wave through the portal in time with time. May their laughter reverberate in our souls and in the heart of the multi-verse as it opens to allow our passage though the portal. Let us be all we were meant to be.

We who create in the valley of shadow, ask passage. Laugh with us as we do the impossible. Let us be light. Let us shine for you.

We are sprinting now. The finish line is moving towards us as we race it to the portal door. The ritual is in full swing; we have been waiting.

Look out. We're on a move now.

Some else believes it can be done. They can see it. That makes three, them, him and me.

& where there are 3...



Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am, Part 2

September 11, 2014

Last night the theater Godz spoke.

It was a glimpse of understanding portrayed in a brief moment of perfectly executed action.

It was a brief flash, but I got it, we can do.

Our rhythm is coming. I can see them beginning to really hear, I smell the impending approach of overstanding. The acting can cease when overstanding makes its appearance; the being can begin.

I took my first real breath in 3 weeks yesterday. It felt good. I know we can do it. But can we do it in time. We got to; that's the battle cry of the Mad Creative, never enough money, never enough time -  but we got to. Got to open to the multi-verse. The ritual must be completed in time.

Being mindful of not being able to control it, I can only call on the power. The power resting in craft. Work. Work hard; then work harder. Grind till you've turned into diamond. Shine; it's you duty.  Ain't but one way through the portal.

Last night I saw the hallway. Can we get to and through the portal in time.

I'm betting on us, and I am not a betting woman. I grind.

We grind. Watch us grind. Watch us shine.

The power is within us.

Rest in Power August Wilson; we heed the call.



Diary of a Mad Creative: I create therefore I am. (Part I)

September 11, 2014

It's short time. Only 9 days left until opening night. How much of what's left undone can be done? Only the theater Godz know; and they ain't talking right now.

But they will; they always do. In the end, it will be what it is, and we shall move on from there after collecting the lessons. We will build higher next time.

There is of course the merest possibility of going down in flames. I suppose this happens; but we know nothing of it except that we have seen it happen to others.

My mantra today; be kind to actors. They are a troublesome and childlike collection of talent we can't create without even if it means no peace as you scramble to create with them. God bless them for what they do.

I will love producers knowing they make art possible even though they are often impossible. I will remember that at their core they love and value beauty despite the fact their eyes are always on accounting sheets.

I will be conscious of the elasticity of time; there is always enough. I will find and follow my rhythm and be in all the places I need to be on time and bearing grace. I will flow with the flow and in time with time.

I will trust in my gifts. I have always had all I need to get what ever I want. I trust that if I am true to craft it will support me. I will not be afraid of success; I will expect it.

I will recognize the blessing of too much work while others starve. I will remember that my work is my joy and be joyful in my work. When tired I will remember not to become weary.

It's all blessings. I do the impossible. I know because I have consistently done it; this is cake.

Sept. 28, 2010


The Ground on Which I Stand (Lower Bottom Playaz & Gem of the Ocean)

September 11, 2014

The Lower Bottom Playaz’ “Gem of the Ocean”:
The Ground on Which I Stand

Ayodele Nzinga

This is the first of a multi-part article about theater in general, and the state of North American African theater in particular.  The series is also about, The Lower Bottom Playaz, a ten-year-old Community Based theater troupe in West Oakland CA., their reason for existing, and the importance of the work they attempt.  Perhaps, the real first part of this article is Tyler Perry’s, Madea’s Big Happy Family, A Review, it is very much one conversation to me.  In future articles I will make a solid connection and deliver the promised article, Precious and the state of Black Arts, for now lets focus on Wilson.  Wilson makes me happy.  He amongst the luminaries who have crafted not just the grounds for my artistic practice with The Lower Bottom Playaz, but in literal truth have mapped, "the ground on which I stand" as a singular creative North American African in a so called post race era.

I came to directing Gem circuitously and with tempered enthusiasm.  I started lobbing to replace Shakespeare with Wilson in the slot allotted by my theater for "Shakespeare in the Yard" in 2009.  Although I applied for the rights early in 2010, they were not granted until late August leaving me with a month and days to mount one of the largest productions I have ever attempted.  Like most theatrical productions, the drama of pre-production always threatens to eclipse the actual production.  This is very true now.

It was a mixed blessing to have MET produce “Gem” in late August at Next Stage; more about the MET production later.  Another huge factor I was forced to face is that of the harsh reality of the limits imposed by the anorexic budgets on which I create.  We have been referred to as the Mc Giver troupe for the way we pimp nothing into big somethings.  Given a choice between talent and money, I would opt for talent.  However, truth is, you also need money to go with talent if you are going to produce quality theater.  We always strive to do much better than anticipated with our invisible dollars; but can we pull off Wilson?  All of these less than optimal factors cautioned me not to attempt the work now; but I am not a student of the optimal.  I often undertake the impossible.  Therefore, you might understand how improbable it was that I would walk away from the chance to do Wilson.  I could not.  Our production will be the final judge of the results.  This thread will be explored in articles that follow.

So, we are in it, swimming, and vowing not to drown in some of the best work we have ever attempted.  Please note; we only do big work.  This work is special because after some rough travel, doing it seems like we have finally arrived home.  We have found our sweet spot.  We are in absolute awe of and in deep love with Wilson.

Gem is the first chronologically in the Pittsburgh Cycle but Wilson penned it in 2003 followed by Radio Golf, which is the last in the cycle chronologically and also the last play before his death in October of 2005.  From Gem of the Ocean to Radio Golf, August Wilson's Pittsburgh Cycle speaks the 20th Century North American African experience.

Wilson is notable for several reasons.  First, he is brilliant.  For those that find him long winded I counter that their complaint sounds like accusing Romare Bearden of using too much color.  A writer's medium is words and Wilson is a master.  His ear for dialect and musical cadence in language is impeccable.  His use of words to paint pictures displays a rarely matched talent.  It could be argued, that it is the short attention span of listeners, not the long windedness of the writer that should be called to question.

I have read reviews of the work, done around the country, that stress the necessity of stellar actors who know Wilson's work to properly bring life to this huge work.  It is indeed a huge work.  It runs over three hours uncut.  It is an complex and epic piece running on multiple tracks at the same time.  It is a ride you could miss if you will not cash in the ticket offered in the magnificent text proffered by Wilson.  It's like Aunt Ester says, "If you believe it can take you.” I submit to do the work properly you must have an ensemble and director who believe in and on the work and work towards an unerring overstanding of the author's intentions.

Wilson is a giant easily compared to O'Neil, Shakespeare, and Faulkner by critics who esteem themselves in their knowledge of American Theater.  His Pittsburgh Cycle is among the best theater created in America bar none.  "This cycle," notes the theater critic Christopher Rawson, "is unprecedented in American theater for its concept, size, and cohesion.”  Gem is its foundation piece.  It is the work you must understand to properly contextualize Wilson's companion work. It is intended to be comprehended as a comprehensive context for the "ground on which we stand".

Gem of the Ocean has received criticism from writers I generally like, example given; Dwight Hobbes whom I respect but disagree with in regards to Mr. Wilson's oft described as ponderous "Gem".  "Gem" is as brilliant as its author.  It is Wilson at his sharpest, awash in finely drawn metaphor, musically poetic, and moving beyond measure if you listen.  Much of Dwight's commentary, (link provided below), centered around having to listen to long passages of dialogue which he described in most part as well acted.  It would seem his central dislike of the play is not wanting to hear Wilson.  I find that a shame, and Hobbes great lost.  Further, I think it explains Hobbe's contention that the copious text and the lack a solid plot wanders aimlessly leading to nowhere.  I could not disagree more.  Do bear in mind, in contrast to Hobbes; I am speaking not of a particular production, but the play itself.

On the surface, it is a simple parable. "You die by how you live.” However, as parables are never truly simple, neither is the quoted epithet.  To whom is Wilson speaking and what does it mean?  I think he is telling us all to count the cost and to remember we all "got to stand in the light”.

If he feels the necessity to instruct us to remember he must feel we do not currently overstand.  In the simple, but not so simple over story, a man is falsely accused of a crime.  His death sparks a riot at the mill the only employer in town albeit an oppressive benefactor reminiscent of sharecropping and company store arrangements in the South.  A young man running from the abuse of Blacks by whites in a post slavery Alabama comes Pittsburgh for an opportunity in the "big world" his mother tells him is out there beyond the harsh South.  He ends up coming to Aunt Ester the matriarch of 1839 Wiley Avenue to have his soul washed of the blood he feels he has on his hands.  He meets Aunt Ester's circle of lively associates and is helped by Ester to "get right with himself" as things at the mill reach a dramatic peak that reveal to the audience and the young traveler what it means to "live right" in the most impossible of circumstance.

It is the under story you have to listen to carefully.  It is the reason there are so many words.  Wilson is playing lyrical leap frog here, its Griot time, its syntactical sorcery with lines that speak double meaning and circle round to create foreshadowing replete with eerie fortune telling aspects that allow/ invite/ command us to connect it to the present moment.

The story geographically set in Pittsburgh is meant to give breath to the whole Black experience from "both sides of the water" including the “City of Bones” that lies between to the gentrifying of historically black neighborhoods including those that represented refuge places, "sanctuaries."

In the volume of word Wilson has given us a tale of land, fire, stars and water; but you got to want it, "everything ain't what it seems.” Gem is an anointing but you gotta want the blessing.

The blessing is in the message.  The message is rememberRemember aloud in context, get up and get something, but remember it all cost and you got to stand in the light.  You got to be right with yourself and if you live right, you die right.  You have a duty to life so you must live.  You must discover what that means in the light of the truth. The battlefield is bloody but you can't be scared, you got to figure out how to live, you don't want it to be your corpse on the battlefield, but you got to live and you got to live right, “you got to do both”.

In the end of the play the mill has been burned down to the ground, leaving the folks with no place to work.  Are they better or worse off or worse off as the Black Boss Man predicts they will be if the mill were to ever close?

Aunt Ester says, "I knew a man that went to fix the wheel, it was turning backwards, time he was finished the wheel didn't turn at all, you got to be careful, everything ain't what it seem."

Please come see the Lower Bottom Playaz production of Gem of the Ocean by August Wilson one of the greatest playwrights that ever lived (link for tickets provided below).  It opens on October 8 at The Sister Thea Bowman Memorial Theater in Oakland CA.

End Part I

Relevant Links:






Wilson's Ghost

September 11, 2014

Wilson's Ghost 

I am haunted by August Wilson. He is my teacher and my traveling companion though my consideration of the 20th Century. I was born in and lived what will probably be the greatest portion of my life in the 20th Century.  Wilson is helping me to synthesis the experience of being born North American African, and the task of coming to maturity and dreaming America in America in this most remarkable and unbelievably trying time. My respect and gratitude to Wilson is measured by my dedication to the elevation of his work.

Wilson is talking to me. He has been for years. In this blog I have gathered the inspections of our conversations to date and here is where I will continue my conversations with the master of American Theater and his pantheon of ordinary people who sing my life and times as cleanly and clearly as a clarion.