Tag: Writing

A Letter to D’Angelo

d'angelo

Dear D’Angelo,

I know you didn’t love the music video for Untitled (How Does It Feel)—I get it. You didn’t want to be seen as a hypersexual singer, but to me, it was artistic, beautiful, and tastefully sexy. That’s what I would say. We, the fans, didn’t mind. We really didn’t. When we said you looked good, it was a compliment, homie. I know you didn’t want to be seen that way, but it showed your versatility as an artist. We still respect you as the singer, songwriter, and producer. It was your caterpillar-to-butterfly moment. You proved your talent with your interpretation of Smokey Robinson’s “Crusin'”. Your rendition of the ultra-jazzy “Get By” was fantastic. You brought poetry with Brown Sugar. The R&B banger “Lady” from the Brown Sugar album was a hit.

It was the year 2000. I remember it vividly—there were about ten of us girls hanging out in a dorm room. Simone was the one who had her space hooked up like a mini-apartment, complete with a big screen. For some reason, we were all together that night, and your video came on. I think she had it saved or something. She asked, “Have you seen that ‘D’Angelo video?” She put it on the video, and I was mesmerized.

A beautiful milk chocolate brotha with thick, neat cornrows and smooth skin. I could tell you’d been doing push-ups, sit-ups, and fasting. You did what it took to look amazing in that video. We all stood there in awe of your sweaty and sultry performance.

I was listening to Tammi Mac from 102.3 KJLH. She talked about the artistic side of that video, and I agree. For me, it was a tasteful way to show vulnerability and sensuality. She mentioned the nods you gave to the Hood, to the Roots, and to Black culture. These nods were your neat cornrows, your cross necklace, and that subtle bling on your left wrist. Of course, your voice was just singing beautifully. Your style and artistry carry deep cultural significance, enriching your music.

People talked about that abrupt ending. I read somewhere that it symbolized a climax, a sudden emotional release. Interesting take.

Anyway, long story that I’m making longer—I went out and bought Voodoo. I was hooked. I played that CD until it couldn’t play anymore. Some parts got scratched, and I had to skip around to hear the rest. Your artistry—man, I’m not big on music vocabulary, but I know good music when I listen to it. You stew in your sound. It’s rich, soulful—like “Chicken Grease.”

Then came Black Messiah 14 years later. I fell in love all over again—so many magical hits like Really Love, Sugah Daddy, and The Door.

You were one of those low-key artists we didn’t hear from often. Still, when you emerged, you were everything. You are definitely a Ravishing Raconteur. Your resilience and dedication to your art are genuinely inspiring.

Sincerely,

Ravishing Raconteur

Writings and Reflections: My Experience of St. Elmo Village’s Speaking Our Truth Workshop

On March 3rd and 10th, I had the privilege of attending the Speaking Our Truth writer’s workshop hosted by St. Elmo Village, a non-profit organization that fosters the arts in West Los Angeles. The event centered around topics such as social justice, cultural diversity, intergenerational connections, and community relationships, where writers from all walks of life came together to share their truths. 

During the workshop, I was fortunate to participate in several classes that challenged my writing skills and sparked a personal transformation. The screenwriting class, led by the insightful Rene Rawls, was a revelation. I discovered new ways to build a character’s journey, forever altering how I view films. Dorothy Randall Gray’s ‘Buttons’ class was equally enlightening. Her unique approach to storytelling, based on random buttons, encouraged me to express myself more freely in my writing and life, leaving me with a renewed sense of inspiration and a desire for self-discovery. 

The second weekend was just as impactful as the first. Poet and vegan chef V. Kali’s class focused on Poetry. She led an exercise on writing about the color blue, which helped me structure an entire poem, something I hadn’t done in years. Shonda Buchanan, whose work dissects her experience as a Black and Indian woman, led a class to analyze Luis J Rodriguez’s poem “Watts Bleeds” and inspired us to create poems or memoirs. 

This workshop was a powerful testament to the transformative power of creativity. The vibrant energy of the talented and passionate participants rekindled my love for writing and reminded me of my initial spark. I left the workshop inspired, energized, and rejuvenated, with a renewed commitment to my craft. If you’re seeking a place to reignite your creative spark and connect with like-minded individuals, this workshop is a must-attend for the rejuvenation and reenergizing it offers.

The Speaking Our Truth writer’s workshop at St. Elmo Village was an unforgettable experience that inspired and empowered me. Through the classes and writing exercises, I was challenged to dig deeper into my writing and explore new ways of expressing myself. The instructors were knowledgeable and passionate about their craft, and their teachings will stay with me for a long time. Being surrounded by such creative and talented individuals was a transformative experience that rekindled my love for writing. I left the workshop feeling energized and renewed, with a newfound commitment to my craft. If you’re looking for inspiration and a supportive community to help you grow as a writer, I recommend attending this workshop in the future.