Capoeira was banned from the streets of Brazil by government officials in the late 19th century. The discipline provided cultural identity and when people recognize their identity, they cannot be enslaved. Besouro Mangangá, a Capoeirista who lived during the 20th century, refused to be victimized and fought against anyone threatening the liberation of his community in Santo Amaro — a town outside of Salvador in the Brazilian state of Bahia. Centuries later, Capoeiristas around the world draw inspiration from Besouro’s values not only to seek liberation for oneself, but liberation for everyone.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

How did your journey as a writer begin? 

That’s a funny story: my first-year roommate was one Katherine Anne MacPhail who was the Arts & Culture Editor of The Oberlin Review! During our second year, she pitched me a story about something going on at the Allen Memorial Art Museum. She knew that I was really involved with visual art and other museum stuff going on at the school. I wrote the story and it was really fun and went really well. Then I wrote another one that went less well, but at the end of my third year of college, they were hiring for a new Arts & Culture editor and Katherine texted me “you should apply for this.” I said fine and eventually got the position! 

What have you gotten out of this experience?

I think this is gonna sound really cheesy but just knowing that I can do something that’s hard, you know? Putting out a newspaper every week is a lot of work. I was thinking about it: writing and keeping track of writers and articles and editing. Doing all this stuff felt like such a big terrifying logistical burden, but to know that I did it every single week and we turned out a newspaper was just incredibly empowering for me – teaching myself how very capable I am. I can handle whatever is on my plate and I can get it off.

This is such a tangent but a couple years ago Cardi B posted a meme that was like “of course I have a lot on my plate, isn’t the goal to eat?” I think about that all the time.

What is a piece that you are particularly proud of working during your time at the Review? 

Oh my gosh, there are so many! I really feel like we did such a good job — we poured our hearts into it. I wrote a piece for our section with [Kushagra] Kar about this museum installation. We went together and wrote a review and it was a really just beautiful experience. I feel that way really strongly about Nico [Vickers]’s mac and cheese piece. They wrote this awesome piece about trying all of the different mac and cheeses at [Lord-Saunders Dining Hall in the Afrikan Heritage House.] They added their experience and their personal relationship to mac and cheese. I enjoyed editing it so much and at the end it was so completely and totally Nico’s but like I felt like I really helped. It was just a fun piece to edit. I didn’t have to change very much but moving a paragraph here and doing something else. It was an incredibly intimate and very delicious read. I love the pieces that made me hungry. 

That was the piece that I, to this day, have barely read because it makes me so mad. I’ve missed out on this semester’s Sunday dinners at A House and that piece will frustrate me until I can sit and enjoy. I will definitely pull the article up just to read about this mac and cheese while I eat. 

Honestly, the real move after reading the article is to ask Nico for their mac and cheese because they described their mac and cheese recipe and it sounds amazing. 

I will pay them. I will. I will pay good money for good mac and cheese. I genuinely would put down about $30 for like a nice dish of mac and cheese.

What is the most unhinged thing someone has said to you in an interview?

I wrote a story about this Facebook group and I reached out on the page and asked if I could quote people. Someone asked, “Do you want to use my name?” And I was like, “Yeah.” He didn’t want me to and I went “Oh, can you tell me why?” He said “Well, I just think that people should only be in the newspaper when they’re born, get married, or die.” Hilarious things to say to a newspaper editor. I did not expect this man to say this to me at all … he ended up giving a quote and it was fine, but it was just a really funny experience.

What is a funny story or treasured memory that you have with the Review?

In an undisclosed location we staged the fake wedding between Katherine and Anisa [Curry-Vietze] and it was amazing. Katherine described it as “pure unadulterated theater kid energy” and I’m kind of inclined to agree. We were all in it — everyone, nobody was wavering even a little bit. It was a real wedding, there was a song, Christo [Hays] and Ivy [Fernandez-Smith] were the flower girls. It was incredible. Kar was the ring bearer!

What is your greatest achievement as an Arts & Culture editor?

Oh man, all of it. I want to say it’s like a specific article but I also want to say it’s being an Arts & Culture editor. To still have an Arts & Culture section during a time when people weren’t gathering, people weren’t going to shows, and artists weren’t coming to campus is incredible. We had to be creative and come up with fun article ideas, like the self-care piece. 

We had to make the Arts & Culture section a place to meditate on Oberlin culture in the abstract, as much as it was in the concrete, and that was one of my goals in becoming the Arts & Culture section editor. I wanted to move away from just event coverage and start writing things that looked more like think pieces — things that were really engaging for readers who weren’t necessarily at an event or thinking about an event.

What is some advice that you have for the next Arts & Culture editors? 

I guess the biggest one would be like, don’t get bogged down in the weeds and keep your eyes on the prize, that is, publishing stuff that you’re proud of and that you like even when little things go wrong. 

Sometimes this job feels like death by a thousand cuts, you know? It’s like answering emails, keeping track of things, making sure you have quotes and all this stuff. The goal is to let that just be noise and know that the real thing you’re doing is creating, not only articles, but the section as a whole space to really give people and things that we care about a platform. Keeping that at heart  and keeping that the center of all the work that you’re doing is key.

And making something for everybody that is a cool place to come and read, rest, think, meditate and learn about art.

Where is Anna Farber going?

Immediately after I graduate I have an internship at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Just for the summer, but it is a summer job and it is paid! I’ll be in their education department working with medieval art, so that’s going to be amazing because I’m a medievalist. The reason that I love museums and art teaching spaces so much is because I love being able to connect with people — be in community with people and look at art and reflect. I love to show people, especially with medieval objects because they’re so complex, how to look at them to get things out of it.

What inspired me to create music is the excitement and the history of this art form as well as the music from other various artists. When I first started making music, it was mostly the excitement, as well as the creativity and the ideas following that — this was when I was producing music around seventh grade while listening to various producers that would click on my inspiration. 

What is the function of your art?

The function of my art is somewhat dependent on the creative thought or idea. I might not know the meaning of why I created what I created or what it means. However, as someone coming out of Detroit, I had built [that] experience on how I can make that idea come to life when I put it into my music.

What role does artmaking play in your life?

Music has always provided me with excitement and joy. That never changes. My artmaking is me using my brain to figure out what works and what doesn’t. That goes with both me composing and producing music. I think that the joy and excitement of an idea is an astonishing feeling because when you are on stage performing the piece or playing a track, it feels really good.

Would you say your artmaking is a healing experience?

I do think that my artmaking could be a healing experience. I remember whenever I am producing music and listening back to the track, it brings me a sense of satisfaction, of freedom after a stressful day of working on everything else. There are times where I’m grinding on producing more than composing, but in the line of healing, I think that my artmaking could fit in that criteria. Although, I don’t experience this a lot because I would just think of an idea instead of feeling it. 

Where do you want to see your art? 

I would want my art to be on both the entertainment and the inspiration side. I want people to enjoy my art even though not everyone is going to love it, not even like it. I want my art to be part of history in a way. I want my music to be inspiring and enjoyed by the people who enjoy it. I don’t want to be “super famous” in a way, but just known at some point. 

How do you begin your creative process?

Well, sometimes when I’m singing something or I’m just thinking about some music playing on the radio, whether it were a couple of chords or lines, an idea of a chord or a melody would pop up in my head. Usually I would start off with the piano part first then work my way up to the horns. This really depends on the motif, riff, appagiation, phrase, or an idea that I’ve come up with. This is the creative process that goes with me producing an instrumental track. 

Who are your influences and inspirations?

I have a lot. My first inspirations for playing the trumpet was Miles Davis, Lee Morgan, and Freddie Hubbard. Specifically, Spike Lee directed a movie called Mo’ Better Blues that inspired me along with a tune from the movie with the same name. The first and foremost person who inspired and influenced me to produce music was J Dilla, who was a very well known music producer from Detroit. J Dilla worked with Slum Village, Common, and other artists up until his death in 2006. Before that, he released his album Donuts, which was my all-time favorite album to listen to. It’s not just J Dilla that inspires me, though; there is also Mr. Carmack, Dr. Dre, DJ Premier, and my piano teacher who was also from Detroit, Jon Dixon. I would get a lot of inspiration from a few SoundCloud music producers and artists like Fat Jon or ESTA. Composition-wise: Hans Zimmer, a film score composer, Jacob Collier, and Tigran Hamasyan. Robert Glasper, who also inspired me to produce music, is another one of my music teachers from Detroit who is a composer, pianist, and a head of a big band. Last, but certainly not least, Scott Gwinnell taught me a lot about writing music, and I cannot be grateful enough for it. 

To what degree does your art reflect the world around you?

I think that my art would in some way give out inspiration to someone with a disability like mine, autism spectrum disorder, and to let them know that they can make it in the world too if you put your mind to what you want to do. As someone with autism, I want to prove people who doubted me wrong. If you have ASD or any other disability, … you can still make it in this world. That is why I want to create. I love creating music, and I won’t stop hustling at all for anybody because I know I can make it.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. 

Firstly, how long have you been playing together?

Cyril Amanfo: We’ve been playing together for eight months during the pandemic.

Max Addae: Cyril and I had been working together for a year prior on his show Equilibrium and various other short projects throughout the year. Black Magic, the show I hosted over the summer, was when Amanfo and Ligonde met.

CA: After that point, we were working as a group and figured, “We’re already here anyway making a bunch of music.” … I came up with the name, and we were moving forward from there.

What has kept you together? 

Mark Ligonde: We’re just brothers, honestly. We do the music thing and that’s great, but at the end of the day it’s not just about the music. We love hanging out with each other, talking to each other, being friends. It’s the joy of being with Max and Cyril — it’s inspiring. To see two individuals so passionate about what they love doing, that keeps me motivated. 

CA: This is my family right here on the screen. We just hang out and talk and get deep and just have fun and joke around. That’s why it’s so organic when we play, because we’re so in tune with each other without the instruments. We went live the other week — that was the first time we had ever performed together, and it was so seamless.

MA: I have to highlight that you said, “We are in tune together spiritually.” You better come on! The connection I have to y’all is truly unmatched. There are people I’ve known my whole life and don’t have this connection, either musically or personally. …  It’s crazy because we all come from different musical backgrounds and places, but we’re still able to collaborate in such an effective and meaningful way.

What does your art form mean to you individually and as a group? 

MA: I have never been in such an intense collaboration with any group of people other than this one. It’s such a blessing, especially at a [predominantly white institution], to have a community of Black artistry to fall back on consistently. I have spent four years prior to this in these very conservatory-heavy, white European musical settings. They have their value, but … being in an all-Black collective that is Black-centered has such a different impact and motivation for me musically and spiritually.

ML: When I create music or express myself, it symbolizes freedom — being able to tap into that. Then when I collaborate with Max and Cyril, that’s a celebration.

CA: I’ve always felt the most in tune with myself while performing. With music and theater, I’m sitting looking at myself in the mirror in ways that I’ve never done before and [have] never been able to. We’re able to combine all of our different mindsets, strengths, and weaknesses to stay in this one pool of art that means the world to us. 

What have been your struggles, either personally or as a group, to keep going as creatives? 

ML: I’ve always doubted myself my whole life. Just the way I grew up in predominantly white spaces. A lot of the times my peers would not give a second thought to taking up space, and I’d feel that what I had to say wasn’t that important and maybe I should just stay quiet. When I get in those states of mind, I just reach out to our group chat and everything clicks back.

MA: The imposter syndrome is mad real. My struggle is figuring out something meaningful that I have to say. Oftentimes I will go into a session feeling like I have nothing to say, but actually getting started is where I find tons of ideas. 

CA: I come into creating as a way to be myself. There are a lot of places in the world that are blocking me as a Black man and just as a person. When people are asking a lot of things of you, it can be hard to choose yourself. At the end of the day, it’s about choosing you, what makes you feel good and what makes your heart shine. If you’re not doing that, you’re alive, but you’re not living. If you’re not doing what speaks to your soul, then you’re trapping it. 

What’s your favorite part about performing together? 

ML: It’s the way that I know what both of these Black creators are about to do next. It’s the way that we’ve spent so much time together that I know Cyril is about to do this, and I have trust in that while Cyril has trust in me. When we went live, we didn’t rehearse any of those songs, and we just had trust in each other.

CA: That’s the thing — we’ve been performing together without being in the same room. We made the track “Little Drummer Boy” without ever seeing each other in person. We never played our instruments together until that live [show]. There was no conversation of, “play this many bars” or “solo for this amount of time and stop.” It’s the unspoken communication that solidifies what we do. 

ML: The energy of not feeling heard or validated around white people often permeates performances with white artists. It’s a question of how much space they’re taking up in the music. But being in that jam session and feeling that liberation as a group is amazing. Being able to take an extra four measures and have them back me up like, “You go, we’ll hold it for you,” is a whole other energy – when they listen to me. 

What’s next for you? 

ML: We’re working on something that at the very latest should be out by the end of the month. A full project is coming out in the summer and maybe a music video. The closest upcoming thing, though, is that single.

CA: We’re working on a musical, and that’s all I’m going to tell you. It will be going up in some capacity in the summer. We want to get our story, message, and truth out to as many people as we can so whatever the platform — Grammys or [the] Super Bowl — we’re coming. It doesn’t matter what the venue is or where the blessings lead. The blessings will come because of the foundation that we have already built.

MA: Look out for more jam sessions and outdoor performances as well.

Addae, Amanfo, and Ligonde’s group can be found on all streaming platforms under the name The Blackberry Poets. Contact them at theblackberrypoets@gmail.com and stream to their latest single, Little Drummer Boy, here.

The Conservatory’s final Black History Month event presented four white men and one white woman to perform works by William Grant Still, Jeffrey Mumford, and Chevalier de Saint-Georges. To say that I am disappointed wouldn’t accurately convey the regularity with which Black faces are pushed aside. 

The event, coupled with its presentation on the Conservatory’s social media flier, represents a blatant disregard for inclusion. Looking below the surface, this moment represents how whiteness allows the Conservatory to host an event such as “Symposium: Decentering the Canon in the Conservatory” on Feb. 6, pat itself on the back for having yet another conversation without action, then resume its historic participation in whiteness as a force of oppression 22 days later.

White Supremacy is built on both the objectification of Black bodies and the stolen ownership of the creations of Afrikan descendants. The Conservatory participated in the former, and in so doing made a positive investment in their possession of whiteness. To invest in the ownership of whiteness is to invest in the ability to ignore not only Black people, but the interdependence of Afrikan descendants and their creations. The Conservatory is guilty of the former in the second degree. The apparent lack of planning for a Black History Month event to have not a single performer of Afrikan descent is flagrant — a symptom of willful ignorance for an “internationally renowned” Conservatory. 

It is undeniable that we live in a republic for which it is advantageous to maintain a proximity to whiteness. Lighter and whiter skin is often portrayed as the standard of beauty, the standard for hiring, and, in this case, the standard for performing in a conservatory. But whiteness is only a single, yet multifaceted, elevator for some and barrier for others. 

The Conservatory box has always maintained a restrictive canon and race-based bias. Opening these spaces in such a way for Black life and Black canons to be well-represented and practiced is a beautiful step not to be minimized or downplayed. But it is the emphasis on that same first step toward inclusion that allows space for lazy attempts towards liberation.

Liberation is a product of imagination, and a lackadaisical imagination is incapable of manifesting liberation. Indigenous, nonbinary, Asian, trans, Latinx, and queer folks are often ignored in the Black-white binary that has been bolstered for decades. By not centering the most vulnerable folks, trans women of culture, there is a perpetual subversion of liberation by limiting our vision of what “inclusion” or “diversity” could manifest as. 

Right now there are crumbs on the table. For an entire community to be fed adequately, the request must be higher. We as a student body must raise the asking price of our presence. We shouldn’t have to worry about the halfhearted planning and execution of the final segment to “A Celebration of Black Artistry.” The fires of liberation should be so hot under the bottoms of our leaders that this would never happen. We should, however, be at such a point to question why an opportunity hasn’t been given to a Black trans woman to perform.

The fashion show committee, a subcommittee of the Black History Month Committee, consisted of Director and Faculty in Residence of Afrikan Heritage House Dr. Candice Raynor, College fourth-year Jasmine Mitchell, and College second-year Jillian Sanford, who have all been working since August to execute Mitchell’s vision. 

“It took a lot of coordination with the Student Union, Concert Sound, and Facilities to figure out how to design and organize the space and flow of the show to ensure we were within ObieSafe guidelines and still able to pull off Jasmine’s creative vision via livestream,” Raynor said.

Several volunteers from various campus communities were instrumental in helping out on the show day. Although the annual event had to be modified for COVID safety, many traditions stayed the same.

“The planning process was the same as it has been in previous years in regard to deciding which models will walk in each line, and picking out outfits that not only fit the themes but also respect each model’s comfort level and reflect their personal style when possible,” Raynor said.

While the show was live streamed, energy was high for students in-person and at home as people cheered on their peers over social media.

“I’m glad that it all came together so well,” Raynor said. “Celebrating Black beauty and cultural expression through fashion was a wonderful way to conclude Black History Month.”

I’m inspired to create by the people and things around me. My grandmother was an art teacher and my brother and uncle enjoy making music, so I’ve always been encouraged to do art by my family. I was told a lot from a young age that I had a gift and that I should explore it, so I did. I have also always enjoyed nature from birdwatching to hiking and fishing — and my dad would sometimes take me out to draw what I observed.

What is the function of your art?

I feel the function of my art is simply for the enjoyment of myself and others.

What role does artmaking play in your life?

I see artmaking as a way for me to help myself and others. It gives me something to focus on that I enjoy doing and can give me a feeling of accomplishment once a piece has been completed. I’m also more than happy to do art for other people and be able to provide them with something they can appreciate and enjoy as well.

Would you say your artmaking is a healing experience?

Artmaking can be a healing experience if you want it to be. Art is a good way to express yourself and get your feelings out in a healthy way and I believe that the process of creating can be calming and satisfying.

Where do you want to see your art?

I want to see my art wherever it is appreciated. I want it to be something that people can enjoy.

How do you begin your creative process?

 I usually begin my creative process by having an idea of something I would like to do pop into my head. Or I receive a request for something. Then, I either construct an image in my head or search for references to get a better idea of where I want to start and how I want a piece to look. After that, it can go anywhere for the most part. I like to enjoy the journey of creating by experimenting with different techniques and ideas. Sometimes I’ll even change or mix mediums in the middle of a project if I think it might look better.

Who are your influences and inspirations?

I can’t really say I have specific influences or inspirations. One reason is because I don’t consider myself as having a specific style either. My art is kind of all over the place, but I like that. However, I have drawn inspiration from various artists for more specific projects. For example, some of my metaphorical or surrealist art has been inspired by Salvador Dalí, and I’ve done a painting that is a combination of Vincent van Gogh’s “Starry Night” and Hokusai’s “The Great Wave off Kanagawa” paintings.

To what degree does your art reflect the world around you?

A lot of my art isn’t really meant to directly reflect the world around me. It includes things from my surroundings more often than not because art imitates life, but usually I just create things for fun. A deeper meaning can be applied to some of my art to make a commentary on my life or the world around, but the main goal for me is to create something nice and have fun doing it.

The biggest inspiration for me is my emotions. Whenever I have a complex emotion or thought that I can’t express concisely, it is usually a song’s topic. I typically create or finish a song after a big revelation in my life, a significant positive or negative life event, or something similar that impacts me. Occasionally, I’ll be driven by deadlines — such as with my articles or my album I did for my first Winter Term project.

A song from my “Past Present Future” EP (from the future section if we’re being thematic.

What is the function of your art? 

My art serves to do many things, but the most significant things are healing and educating. I hope that my poetry, music, articles, and other works can inform and heal others and myself. Creating tends to have a healing and grounding effect for me, whether I get to vent and have relief or be prideful in a solid verse or piece. 

Peace by Reggie Goudeau

What role does artmaking play in your life? 

Artmaking happens whenever it happens, and I already mentioned how I’m usually just driven to write after a significant thought or event. It grounds me and helps me put a lot of my ideas into tangible action. Once I have some dope nuggets of wisdom dropped in a song or article, I’m more calm and ready to think of action steps.

A song from my Album I did for my first winter term project called “A Couple Questions.” This is a nice banger of me simply reminding everyone it’s time for me to bring the bars back.

Would you say your artmaking is a healing experience? 

Absolutely. Honestly, I write a lot of my best work whenever I’m at my lowest, and doing some great work helps me to feel less depressed. Some of my poems talking about darker themes and my melancholic music, such as “Sad Clown” or “Happiness,” reflect these dark moments of my life. Creating has helped me retain a bit of sanity amidst the pandemic and other nonsensical events of the past year.

The Consistent Melancholy by Reggie Goudeau

Where do you want to see your art? 

If I could become a famous rapper someday, that would be awesome, but I don’t expect it to happen realistically. Some may read that and see it as self-defeating, but I see nothing wrong with honesty and realistic expectations. I want to go into healthcare, and the likelihood of me carrying a rap career and pursuing medicine is low — we can’t all be Megan Thee Stallion. For now, I’m content seeing my music being enjoyed locally by friends and family. But if someone way bigger sees something in me or helps me to start a real career, I’m up for taking this more seriously. 

A single from last year about my trying to remain nonchalant in the fact of a doomed world.

Who are your influences and inspirations? 

I take inspiration from many rap artists, and although I’m usually conscious enough or whatever, I love trap music the most. For more technical stuff, I enjoy listening to Pusha T, JID, Denzel Curry, CHIKA, Kendrick Lamar, and Cordae, just to name a few. Call me uncultured if you’d like, but I started doing more poetry after rapping, so I’m still familiarizing myself with poets — though I do love the work from the talented members of OSLAM. I need some sauce too, and for that, I like listening to people such as Future, Flo Milli, Megan Thee Stallion, Lil Uzi Vert, 6lack, Young Thug, and Lil Baby.  I could go on way longer, but I’ll halt here.

Loving by Reggie Goudeau

To what degree does your art reflect the world around you? 

My art reflects what I’d like to see in the world around me or myself. Most of my work is based on educating or healing because I feel [that] the world needs that right now. It also reflects my state of being because I’m on a constant learning journey to heal and educate myself.

Articles by Reggie Goudeau:

Amid Successes, SOAR Fails to Deliver on Student Feedback

Being Black in a World of Darkness

Before getting any experience in composition and computer programming, I had a heavy performance background in vocal and instrumental music, so naturally live performance and storytelling are such core aspects of my artistic practice. As I started learning more about programming, I found myself continually applying these skills to creative and musical contexts, and being so inspired by the power of technology to enhance human expressivity in unimaginable ways. I believe technology has limitless power in providing musicians with new ways to create and interact with music. It allows performers to communicate emotions, stories, and ideas that cannot be conveyed through any other medium. As such, my interest in technology-enhanced storytelling and performance is one of the most driving forces for me in the work I create. 

What is the function of your art?

Especially recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about the positionality of my art as a Black creative technologist and electroacoustic artist. As much as people may like to believe technology is neutral, there are so many ways in which technology causes harm to my communities and promotes white supremacy (e.g., facial recognition software, surveillance, social media), and sometimes it can feel like being a Black technologist is almost a betrayal of my Blackness. At the same time, though, I find it really empowering to think about incorporating Black aesthetics into technology, and to visualize technology as this futuristic tool for presenting innovative Black narratives and empowering Black bodies (as explored in Afrofuturism and African-American science fiction, especially). I plan to explore these topics in my Senior TIMARA Recital this semester, which will be a video performance project that reimagines Black Americans’ relationship to technology through music, sound, poetry, and dance.

What role does artmaking play in your life?

On one level, artmaking is a huge source of healing for me. Especially during the early months of quarantine when we were first sent home, my music was quite literally all I really had to process the multitude of feelings I was experiencing, and I can’t even imagine where I’d be at, mentally, without it. On another level, artmaking is also such an important avenue for me to collaborate and connect with my larger artistic communities. The artistic and creative community at Oberlin is one of the main things that has kept me sane during my time here, and some of my most valuable artmaking experiences have been through collaborative art-making projects: namely, working with The Obertones, The Oberlin Black Musicians Guild (OCBMG), and my band, The Blackberry Poets (TBP), with [College third-year] Cyril Amanfo and [Double degree fourth-year] Mark Ligonde. For me, the bonds I have established with people while working together on music and art are completely unmatched, and those bonds are one of the most essential sources of inspiration and motivation for me artistically.

Would you say your artmaking is a healing experience?

Absolutely! In the past year, especially, artmaking — especially collaborative art-making — has been such an essential part of my mental stability. If this pandemic has taught me anything, it is that artistic collaboration is boundless. Even while being physically separated all across the country, I’m so fortunate to have been able to find ways to continue singing with the Obertones remotely, and to produce original music over Zoom with Cyril and Mark as if we were in the same room together. Of course, nothing can beat the joy of live performance and collaboration for me. Yet, in times like these where you can fall into isolation and loneliness really easily, it’s so magical to be able to achieve that healing through artistic collaboration, even from a distance. 

Where do you want to see your art?

I’d want to see my art wherever it can make an impact on people: whether that be in a recital hall, on streaming platforms, on a Broadway stage, in a family’s living room — wherever! I’m not sure I’d say I aspire to be “famous,” necessarily, but I’m certainly open to any and every way my music can provide joy and healing to others. 

How do you begin your creative process?

As you can expect, the creative process can look vastly different depending on the project or piece in question, but in general it often begins with a small core idea (often a poem, a motif, a harmonic progression, a theme), and I try to gradually build and expand on it. Sometimes, when I’m in a creative rut or if I’m feeling a little drained, I try to take a step back and just consume art that I enjoy. Not necessarily for the sake of “finding inspiration,” per se, but more so as a way of grounding and re-centering myself — sort of like a “creative reset button.” Maybe I’ll listen to an album I haven’t heard all the way through before, or I’ll watch performance videos of artists I admire, or sometimes I’ll even watch old performance videos of my own (either as a solo artist or within larger group performances), just to remind myself of the things that truly move me and the reasons why I create and perform music. I’ve found that hitting that “reset” button every so often really helps me jumpstart my creative mindset, and puts me in a better position to develop meaningful work.

Who are your influences and inspirations?

Oooh, this might be a long one, buckle up! I get inspiration from so many different sources. The creative technologist part of me is heavily inspired by artists like George Lewis, Imogen Heap, and Pamela Z who create such deeply intimate and interactive relationships between themselves as performers and their technology. When it comes to my vocal arranging, I get a ton of inspiration from choral composers like Eric Whitacre and Frank Ticheli, as well as some contemporary a cappella groups like Pentatonix, the Nor’easters, and so many others. And then of course, the Oberlin artistic scene has a monumental impact on my creativity. I feel like practically every weekend before COVID times, I would walk out of a friend’s recital, or a theater performance, or a dance showcase feeling so inspired and driven to work on my music. I’m so fortunate to have connected with so many talented and passionate artists at Oberlin, and I think my artistic growth and inspiration is very much a direct result of the creative scene the Oberlin community cultivates. 

To what degree does your art reflect the world around you?

For me, at least, I feel like art is inherently a response to the world around me and my lived experiences within it. Of course, this can be more or less “blatant” or conscious, depending on the piece in question, but I personally believe music and art, by nature, exists within larger contexts (personally, historically, culturally, socially, etc.), and recently I’ve been trying to become more comfortable discussing my personal experiences as a Black queer man in my work. It can be incredibly daunting to put so much of your heart on your sleeve as an artist, but I think the power we hold as artists to provide healing both to ourselves and others around us through our work can make the increased vulnerability so worth it.