Many local black artists struggle to fit in at MOJA
This Ain't My Festival
by Joy Vandervort-Cobb
My original intent was to write an article about the MOJA Festival and
its impact on the African-American arts scene in Charleston. Makes
sense. MOJA is atop us, I am an artist, and I like talking to other
folks in the arts. Easy, right? Wrong. I've had more off-the-record
conversations in the last week than I ever anticipated. There is
disenchantment with the lack of local performing artists being featured.
There is a sense, as one anonymous source put it, that "This ain't my
festival." And according to a number of people — from musicians to
thespians to technicians — the local buy-in from our community of
African-American artists is about as flat as the economy.
But let me start with the easy, non-confrontational stuff. This is the
28th year that the festival is celebrating African-American and
Caribbean arts. Those of you who have been in Charleston for any amount
of time at least know that during MOJA, the culture and history of
African-American and Caribbean people is celebrated through art, music,
theater, dance, and literature. There are loads of free things to do,
including the popular Caribbean Street Parade and the Reggae Block
Party.
Brooklyn transplant and Mt. Pleasant resident Marlene Gaillard, an avid
arts fan and longtime MOJA supporter, is torn about the festival this
year. News of the 2011 schedule wasn't announced until just a few weeks
ago, and Gaillard is disappointed with the seeming lack of organization.
"First and foremost, could you explain to me why I just received my
program booklet yesterday?" she says. "September 20 for a large event
that begins nine days later? How does one plan for that? And there are
enough 'TBAs' in this booklet that I had to ask myself if it was the
name of a group I'd never heard of but was increasingly popular from the
amount of times it's listed." The major R&B concert that's usually a
highlight of MOJA was one of the TBA casualties.
The Office of Cultural Affair's Ellen Dressler Moryl explained that a
number of factors, including a diminished staff, promoters backing out,
and other events like the 9/11 commemorations, got in the way of
planning. Perhaps most significantly, the MOJA program coordinator
position was vacant this year, and a programming committee was tasked
with the planning. Elease Amos-Goodwin, who formerly held the position
and recently retired, served on the committee. "This year it has just
been an occupational hazard that things didn't happen as one might
want," Moryl said.
Gaillard also bemoans the lack of local talent represented at MOJA. "Why
aren't there things in local venues with local musicians? Happens all
the time during the big festival," she says. Moryl responded that she'll
address that concern next year. "That's an interesting perspective,"
Moryl said. "I'll address it with the committee. As you know, we don't
dictate from this office what should or shouldn't be in MOJA. We offer
advice, give input, and support."
Colin Quashie is one local artist that has had some negative experiences
with the festival. He's been a screenwriter, sketch comedy writer for
television (MAD TV), a filmmaker, novelist, and contemporary
artist. He's a bit of a provocateur, both in his work and his thought
process. From the moment I met him in 1996 at my first MOJA, in which I
performed with a San Francisco theater company, he has intrigued me.
There he was at the end of the table, angry and loud and ready to spar
with anybody crazy enough to challenge him.
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