Book Final Web

8/18/2019 Book Final Web

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WELCOME TO YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS

YBCA’s mission is to generate culture that moves people. We believe that culture precedes change.

Indeed, the great societal strides – those that have resulted in positive and powerful forward

movement - have inevitably sparked from cultural shift, a momentous collective motion that cannot

be diverted or denied.

At YBCA, we also believe in people and the essential power of creativity. Yet, too few people are

empowered, too few are heard, and too few are making the decisions. Now more than ever, amidst so

much noise, inequity and disruption, we need more and different kinds of people to come together

to instigate collaborative action. Together, we can achieve a more inspired and compassionate future.

Unlike any other place that we know of, YBCA is striving to be a new kind of art center, a new kind of

creative home for inquiry and collective action. We are committed to cultivating community. We are

brazen about the role that art plays in leading the way. We are here to gather all kinds of people around

the destabilizing, disorienting questions that free us from habit and complacency, and that force a new

perspective that is not burdened by the limits of expertise or the weight of past experience.

Innovation, that exquisite push past the intractable or the unimaginable and to the better and the

possible, comes when people grapple with the critical questions in pursuit of something great. This is

our YBCA 100 – an annual list of the top 100 people who are inspiring us. These are the ones who are

asking the burning questions that will push us forward.

At YBCA we are inviting you to join us in making culture and in making movement.

Warmly,

Deborah Cullinan

CEO OF YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS


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Consider the life cycle of a question…

Think of a creative inquiry as you would think of a seed… think of the question as a building block of

urban architecture nurtured by an artist from idea to civic blossom. Most creative inquiries in our

contemporary environment meet an economic, social, or technological end, the draft of our musings

are so often informed by the market-driven incubators that harbor them. As such, the life cycle of a

creative question tends to end in a consumable product molded in the form that a parent companyneeds to sustain or advance its market share…

But consider the life cycle of a question as nurtured by a cultural incubator , a resourced, networked

institution that provides safe and provocative harbor for leading edge creative souls to guide a

question from nascent form to public impact…

The YBCA 100 is more than a curated list of dynamic, high performing personalities, though to

be sure, each person in this group fits that description. Truthfully, as impressed as we are by the

accomplishments of these 100 assembled culture makers, we’ve drawn them together based on our

belief that these people are asking the questions that will shape the next 50 years in America. Ourfurther belief is that at a local level, if we were to distill these questions and develop publicly sourced

working groups to respond to these creative inquiries, we could alter the trajectory and landscape of

our City. YBCA asks itself,

“Can we design a social practice built on the instigations of a curated few? Can we manage the life

cycle of an idea, build an ecosystem of creative individuals to respond to that idea, nurture those

responses with artistic interactions, and then harvest the results in the form of public policy?”

Consider the life cycle of a law…

Imagine it cynically and insinuate that few ideas become law nowadays without first being tampered

with by moneyed interests. That said, perhaps the only thing more powerful than private funds is

public will. When YBCA describes its mission as generating culture that moves people, the bet that

we are making is that we can activate how art influences the public imagination, that we can design aprocess whereby highly dynamic inquiry spawns culture, and culture precedes policy.

So yes, the YBCA 100 is filled with activists, philanthropists, artists, technologists, and humanitarians,

but it has been more precisely chosen because the burning questions these people are asking are the

fertile ground for the world we want to make. We are inviting our multiple publics to refine the questions

of these instigators, to essentialize them down to digestible and publicly actionable components, to join us in our building and around our region in a shared exercise of art-framed civic progress. YBCA

re-imagines itself as activist citizen, thinks of i ts brick and mortar home as public square for debate and

aspiration, and chooses some of the most inspired among us to use their questions like stars over an

ocean of possibility, setting our course of discovery toward a brave and compassionate future.

Marc Bamuthi JosephCHIEF OF PROGRAM AND PEDAGOGY,

YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS


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KYLE ABRAHAM

JOHN LUTHER ADAMS

AFROPUNK FEST

KHALIK ALLAH

ROBERT MAILER ANDERSON

ASSEMBLE

BYRON AU YONG

AYAH BDEIR

CLAUDIA BERNARDI

MARK BITTMAN

DOUGLAS BOURGEOIS

MARK BRADFORD

KING BRITT

TODD T. BROWN

CARRIE BROWNSTEIN

TANIA BRUGUERA

NOAH BUDNICK

SUSIE CAGLE

WILL CHASE

TA-NEHISI COATES

HERVE COHEN

JEM COHEN

SHARON DANIEL

ANGELA DAVIS

LEAR DEBESSONET

JUNOT DIAZ

SAM DURANT

AVA DUVERNAY

KEVIN JEROME EVERSON

FLAMING LOTUS GIRLS

FORCE: UPSETTING RAPE CULTURE

FUTURE FARMERS

DIANA GAMEROS

ALEX GARTENFELD

THEASTER GATES

TAVI GEVINSON

THELMA GOLDEN

JOANNA HAIGOOD

HEADLANDS CENTER FOR THE ARTS

MICHELLE HENSLEY

WALTER HOOD

KUMU HULA MARK KEALI’I HO-OMALU

ELI HOROWITZ

INCLINE GALLERY

BILL T. JONES

VAN JONES

YORGOS LANTHIMOS

SUZANNE LEE

SHAUN LEONARDO

JODIE MACK

DAVID MAISEL

MALIDOMA COLLECTIVE


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GREGORY MAQOMA

RAYA MARTIN

ROMAN MARS

ERIN MCELROY

METAHAVEN

CHRIS MILK

HOPE MOHR

SIDDHARTHA MUKHERJEE

ANTHONY MYINT

OBSCURA DIGITAL

OCULUS STORY STUDIO

VALERIE CASSEL OLIVER

JOSHUA OPPENHEIMER

LUCY & JORGE ORTA

TREVOR PAGLEN

DAN PARHAM

PARK JUNG-BUM

KATIE PATERSON

SUSAN PHILIPSZ

ADRIAN PIPER

LAURA POITRAS

PAUL (BEATRIZ) PRECIADO

LAUREL PTAK

CLAUDIA RANKINE

BILL RAUCH

MARTHA REDBONE

RENEE RHODES

MIGUEL ANGEL RIOS

FAVIANNA RODRIGUEZ

PHILIP ROSS

TOM SACHS

DORIS SALCEDO

TOMAS SARACENO

SARAH SCHULMAN

PAUL SIETSEMA

FRANKLIN SIRMANS

REBECCA SOLNIT

DOUG STANHOPE

SIMON STARLING

BRANDON STANTON

DANIELLE STRACHMAN

STUDIO FOR PUBLIC SPACES

SONYA RENEE TAYLOR

TEAM BETTER BLOCK

ANA TIJOUX

ADDIE WAGENKNECHT

KARA WALKER

RICHARD T. WALKER


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11:30AM CHECK-IN BEGINS IN THE GRAND LOBBY

12:00PM Q&A WITH Kyle Abraham

12:15PM YBCA 100 DOORS OPEN FOR SEATING 1:00PM OPENING REMARKS

Marc Bamuthi Joseph, YBCA’s Chief of Program & Pedagogy

1:15PM INSTIGATION #1: THE CITY (45 MIN)Favianna Rodriguez, Anthony Myint, Robert Mailer Anderson, Erin McElroy

2:00PM BREAK

2:20PM INSTIGATION #2: THE BODY (45 MIN)Sonya Renee Taylor, Will Chase, Shaun Leonardo, Danielle Strachman

3:05PM BREAK

3:25PM PRESENTATION Deborah Cullinan, CEO of YBCA

3:40PM INSTIGATION #3: THE CHANGE (45 MIN)

Theaster Gates in conversation with Carrie Mae Weems

4:30PM CLOSING REMARKS Marc Bamuthi Joseph

4:35PM A SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM Bill T. Jones

5:00PM COCKTAIL HOUR HONORING THE YBCA 100 IN THE GRAND LOBBY

Please note that refreshments will be served throughout the event.

S A T U R D AY, O C T O B E R 1 0 , 2 0 1 5

Y E R B A B U E N A C E N T E R F O R T H E A R T SS A N F R A N C I S C O , C A

S C H E D U L E O F E V E N T S


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And while Ross is aiming to

diminish waste generated by

large construction projects,

Suzanne Lee of BioCouture is

teaching us how to grow our

own clothes—basically turning

kombucha into vegan leather. It’s

gross and amazing and I’m totally

going to try it.

“I’ve always had an affinity for the outdoors, nature,

the environmental. Not that you would know it

from the way I dress, or given my long-standing city-

dwellingness. But as I look at the list of the people I

have chosen as my inspirations for this year’s YBCA

100, I see that affinity echoed clearly.

It’s also safe to say that I am a definite product of my

environment. I was born and raised in the country. Our

property was bordered on two sides by cornfields and

on the other two sides by lush forest and a muddy,

slow-moving river. My father was an architect and my

mother was an artist, seamstress, and interior designer.

We had the most intimidating fruit and vegetable

garden I had ever seen. That was my environment.

Nature. Art.

Last year I was invited by one of my coworkers here at

YBCA to take a weaving class. She is a textile designer

and wanted to learn more about the process. I have

been a seamstress since my mother taught me to sew

at the age of five. I was super keen to know more about

textiles so I could deepen my knowledge of why certain

fabrics behave certain ways and how best to handle

them. Well, the research never stops once you go down

the rabbit hole. You start to understand, for instance,

that you can grow nearly everything that you need. It’slike belonging to a harvest cult! Next thing you know

you’re shearing sheep and making your own yarn and

saying things like, “Oh, this has so much more lanolin

because they graze on [fill in the blank] plants.” You

start seeing that “farm to table” can apply to anything

and everything that we make.

Karen Leibowitz, who runs Mission Chinese Food,

Commonwealth, and the upcoming Perennial

restaurant (with her husband, Anthony Myint), told

SFGate that she and Myint “started thinking about

what can we do to engage with our environment more

BY SARAH CATHERS

closely—not just farm to table, but really

deeply engage.” The story continued:

“The Perennial will be a ‘laboratory,’

in which all aspects of the restaurant’s

business—relationships with farmers,

sustainable practices, choice of

vendors—are seen through the lens of

environmental impact. . . . They will use

flour made with perennial alternatives

to traditional wheat, namely the Land

Institute’s trademarked Kernza flour, a

naturally bred perennial intermediate

wheatgrass with high-yield, root-based

carbon sequestration.” 1

Then that always brings me to the

question of materials themselves. Whymust we continue to think that

furniture has to be made out of wood,

or buildings out of steel beams?

Once you go through the process of

picking out a sheep to shear for the

wool to make a sweater (or a cape, in

my case), everything opens up. What

other organic materials can be grown

and function as clothing, furniture,

I-beams? What other items that grow

in this world are we not yet seeing

as potentially useful for everyday

living? What is our wheat alternative


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in fashion or architecture that will contribute to the health of our environment

instead of detracting from it?

Philip Ross, repeat artist in residence at Headlands Center for the Arts,

decided to grow his own furniture. And, interestingly, it was food that

brought him there: “Through my work as a chef I began to understand

biochemistry and laboratory methods; as a hospice caregiver I worked with life

support technologies and environmental controls; and through my interest in wild

mushrooms I learned about taxonomies, forest ecology and husbandry.” 2

“The future is fungal,” he says simply, in an interview with SFGate. “With somework, mycelium might be substituted where you might use plastic or polystyrene

now, or it can be used as a strong, fire-resistant construction material.” 3

And while Ross is aiming to diminish waste generated by large construction

projects, Suzanne Lee of BioCouture is teaching us how to grow our own clothes—

basically turning kombucha into vegan leather. It’s gross and amazing and I’m

totally going to try it. If Lee’s low-energy process catches on, it could address

some of the major environmental and sustainability problems associated with

the fashion industry. Rather than shipping materials based on plants, animals,

or petrochemicals to factories around the world, designers could make their

own biomaterials right at home. Lee says, “I’m hoping that the consumer trend

of asking about traceability with food will mi grate to fashion and that all fashion

brands will choose to sign up (and go beyond) global production standards like

the Ethical Trading Initiative.” 4

The passions to which these people are dedicating their lives have an impact not

only on my creative life, but on my professional life at YBCA as well: How can we

do this better? What are we not thinking of? What else is out there? Let’s bring it

into our house and see if it flourishes.

NOTES

1. Paolo Lucchesi, “New S.F. Restaurant’s Mission: Save the Environment,” SFGate.com, October 21, 2014, http://www.sfgate.com/news/article/New-S-F-restaurant-s-mission-Save-the-5825635.php.

2. http://philross.org/about/#about/.

3. Alec Scott, “Philip Ross Crafts Furniture from Mycelium,” SFGate.com, December 16, 2012, http://www.sfgate.com/homeandgarden/article/Philip-Ross-crafts-furniture-from-mycelium-4116989.php.

4. Samantha Michaels, “A Conversation with Suzanne Lee, Sustainable Fashion Innovator,” TheAtlantic.com, July 27, 2011, http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2011/07/a-conversation-with-suzanne-lee-sustainable-fashion-innovator/242644/.


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“ And what, I find myself wondering,is the impact of this type of intimate

— sometimes painful — work?

As Salcedo said... “To see is to havepower; it’s a way of possessing.”

By transmuting into new form the

witness stories gathered from

interviews with victims and their

families, Salcedo asks the viewer to

own these bodies with new eyes—to

testify to that which has been, until

now, invisible.

Since beginning work last year on Valerie Cassel Oliver’s

exhibition Radical Presence: Black Performance in

Contemporary Art, I’ve had a renewed interest in

working with artists exploring the vulnerability of the

body and the artist’s need to bear witness to pain.

With much of the contemporary art world focused on

the theoretical underpinnings of a work rather than its

emotional tenor, Cassel Oliver’s curation has led me to

artists willing to risk their own bodies to probe issues

of social and political violence. Beyond my admiration

for the work itself, I experience a visceral response

to much of the material from this show—works that

convey a sense of urgency, resonance, and “present-

ness,” with special attention paid to the remnants anddocumentation of the body’s actions. We see this in the

work of David Hammons, Tameka Norris, and Pope.L—

artists “painting” in the materials of the human body

(ink, blood, human waste) and grappling with the social

and political violence coloring their day-to-day. This

body of work has renewed in me a longtime passion

for another artist forging connections across cultures

and contexts: Doris Salcedo.

Like many of the artists in Radical Presence, Salcedo

confronts us with the fragility of the body and its

relationship to history, yet her sculptures manifest their

power via indications of a body now absent. We see

this in the disturbing details of her meticulously made

objects: the ridge of bone cutting through the surface

of a wooden bureau in La Casa Viuda II (1993–94), tiny

hairs woven into the surface of a table’s drapery in

Unland: the orphan’s tunic (1997), or shirts made rigidwith plaster and impaled on steel spikes in Untitled

(1989 –90). Each sculpture indicates a violent narrative

dispossessed from its story of origin; all of the works

mark a body or bodies rendered “unrepresentable” —

and now missing—much like the growing population of

desaparecidos in Salcedo’s native Colombia.

Salcedo’s sculpture responds to a culture of violence

filled with assassinations, grieving mothers, and lost

friends. Rendering monumental political issues on an

intimate and personal scale, her work materializes

these lost histories as disfigured items of furniture or

clothing, as in the pattern of a child’s dress peeking

out from the cemented interior of a bureau in Untitled

BY DOROTHY DAVILA

(1998). Salcedo re-creates “everyday”

objects to signal a parallel dysfunctionin the domestic sphere, a realm where

families are lost and bodies are broken.

And what, I find myself wondering, is

the impact of this type of intimate—

sometimes painful—work?

As Salcedo said in an interview with

Carlos Basualdo, “To see is to have

power; it’s a way of possessing.”1 By

transmuting into new form the witness

stories gathered from interviews with

victims and their families, Salcedo

asks the viewer to own these bodies

with new eyes—to testify to that which

has been, until now, invisible. These

are objects calling us to meaningful

dialogue and action, in turn spurring my

own professional drive as exhibitionsmanager to create a perfectly realized

presentation for each work of art we

display in our galleries. By laying out a

pristine, neutral space for viewer and

object to connect, I strive to honor

both artist and object by giving the

work an arena to declare its presence

and, in turn, giving the viewer a chance

to “possess” it in an intimate, powerful

moment of exchange.

NOTES

1. Nancy Princethal, Carlos Basualdo, and AndreasHuyssen, Doris Salcedo (London: Phaidon Press, 2000),26.


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...an experience in a museum can

at a later date awaken a seemingly

routine object’s latent meanings in

the mind of a museumgoer. In this

way, artists such as Susan Philipsz

can influence song, a tradition with

a legacy so vast and encompassing

that it seems inseparable from

the experience of being human.Katie Paterson’s work might even

influence our understanding of the

night sky, and the infinite.

“As chief preparator of the visual arts program at

YBCA, my work is driven by a zeal to show and develop

projects with artists who construct complex meanings

that are dynamic enough to sustain the transition from

the confines of the austere and figurative arena of

the museum into the greater world, and who impact

the way in which we assemble our understanding of

everything that we can fathom. It is my role to develop

and produce our exhibitions in order to give the

artist’s work its best chance at achieving this impact.

And perhaps because of this role, I’ve become drawn

to the work of artists whose methods and forms are

so intrinsic to the intentions of their work that the twoare inextricable.

This intrinsic and resolute bond between an artwork’s

form and intentions is what seems to allow for the

translation of an experience of an idea incited by a

symbolic object in a museum into the concrete world

of the everyday. Through this transitive action, an

experience in a museum can at a later date awaken a

seemingly routine object’s latent meanings in the mind

of a museumgoer. In this way, artists such as Susan

Philipsz can influence song, a tradition with a legacy so

vast and encompassing that it seems inseparable from

the experience of being human. Katie Paterson’s work

might even influence our understanding of the night

sky, and the infinite.

Through the stunning vulnerability and audacityof a single human voice, Philipsz utilizes song, an

indispensable embodiment of human culture, to draw

swift and emotive connections between an immediate

moment in the present and a multitude of lineages.

Through her audio interventions into architecture and

the environment, she invites a contemporary analysis

of perhaps the most ancient form of human expression,

revealing that despite surficial changes, we still share

a deep well of experience with our collective ancestry.

Her work reveals the radical, transformative power

of culture and instigates the viewer’s recognition of

song’s ability to awaken the heritage of a place and to

evoke ancient and modern meanings simultaneously.

BY TESAR FREEMAN

Paterson’s work embodies the

spiritual revelations of a cosmicworldview in elegantly sparse and

sublime metaphors that make the

unfathomable nature of the universe

intimately comfortable and concrete.

Her work illustrates the collisions

between our science’s exponentially

expanding understanding of the

cosmos with our culture’s archaic and

geocentric models of understanding

existence. Her work is about the

discovery of poetry in hard science

and an acknowledgment of the

inadequacies of our traditional

methods of understanding and

discerning ideas that are unfathomable

to our senses.

Artists such as Katie Paterson and

Susan Philipsz contribute to the field of

contemporary art while simultaneously

engaging realms and ideas normally left

unexplored by artists and exhibitions.

Their work exemplifies how the work

museums present can continue to

draw impactful connections long

after a visitor leaves the confines

of the galleries. It is this process of

transitive influence that allows art to

be transformative. It is the subtle but

enduring impact of a remarkable idea

that is the social utility of art.


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I have long been attracted to and

inspired by art that combines the

personal and the political, that

incites awe through its beauty, and

passion for political action through

its message. An encounter with

a painting that did this to me in

high school is what brought me to

work in the arts in the first place.

Rankine’s gorgeous and harrowing

work reawakened the feeling and

imprinted upon me the deeply

troubling “what” in regards to race

in America.

“Claudia Rankine’s Citizen (2014) is a stunning

collection of poetic essays and images that conveys

the exhaustion of being black in the United States.

Each piece presents a micro-aggression: a colleague

complaining about being asked to recruit writers of

color, a woman’s surprise to learn that black people

can get cancer, another woman choosing to stand on

a long train ride rather than sit in the only empty seat

(next to a black man) for several stops but then sitting

when another space (not next to a black man) opens

up. These endless slights inflicted upon the black

consciousness lead to a weariness that is palpable,

heavy, that builds with each page, but that she never

succumbs to.

During an interview about Citizen for the New Yorker,

Rankine was asked, “What is the question that isn’t

being voiced?” Her response echoed Baldwin and

Dostoyevsky:

When I’m walking around, I’m sometimes just

perplexed at people who seem like everydaypeople, people who are on juries, who are in

the police force, who are in control of my life in

many ways. Who are in hospitals. Who actually

are seeing something different when they see me.

And it has nothing to do with just my skin color;

the skin color reduces to something else. And

there’s a question around that, but I don’t know

what the question is. I really don’t know!

But in Citizen she does present a powerful question,

and it’s a simple one: “What?” She repeats “What

did you say?” throughout the text to signal the utter

BY SUMMER HIRTZEL

absurdity of the racist remarks littered

throughout her everyday life. Thisphrase eventually morphs into the

word what. No question mark. The

exhaustion from the constant barrage

becomes physical, and creates an

inability to lilt the voice up enough

to turn the word into the question.

Just a statement. What. A deadpan,

exasperated, can’t-take-this-anymore,

are-you-kidding-mewhat.

I have long been attracted to and

inspired by art that combines the

personal and the political, that incites

awe through its beauty, and passion for

political action through its message. An

encounter with a painting that did this

to me in high school is what broughtme to work in the arts in the first place.

Rankine’s gorgeous and harrowing work

reawakened the feeling and imprinted

upon me the deeply troubling “what”

in regards to race in America. In

response, I hope that the work I do for

YBCA and my own creative practice

helps grow and inspire a community

determined to echo and build upon

Rankine’s question: What did you say?

What can we do to become better

citizens? What can we do to change

this racist culture? What can we do to

inspire others to join us in doing so?

“‘The purpose of art,’ James Baldwin wrote, ‘is to laybare the questions hidden by the answers.’ He mighthave been channeling Dostoyevsky’s statement that‘we have all the answers. It is the questions we do notknow.’”

—Claudia Rankine, Citizen (2014)


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Produced by Matthew Morgan and Jocelyn

Cooper, the annual Afropunk Festival takes

place in Brooklyn, Atlanta, and Paris and is at

the epicenter of urban culture inspired by

alternative music. While Morgan, Cooper,

and their incredible team understand

the power of cultural gathering and the

multicolored, hypnotic effect of music, their

work mirrors the aspiration of YBCA’s new

vision. Theirs is a cultural institution whose

passion is the art, but whose ambition is

cultural shift.

“BY MARC BAMUTHI JOSEPH

My eighth grader is visibly grieving his boyhood. His

tender face at odds with his lengthening bones, he’s

cloaked in an unfamiliar fabric, fitting loosely in the

crack between safety and the mark of the suspect.

Together we are reading Between the World and Me

by Ta-Nahisi Coates. Within the construction of a book-length letter to his teenage son, Coates considers:

How do I live free in this black body? It is a profound

question because America understands itself as

God’s handiwork, but the black body is the clearest

evidence that America is the work of men.

The human condition is framed lovingly by its

contradictions, the polarities in our lives binding

the tension that keeps us in place. That said, the

prototypical condition of the black male body in

America is uniquely stretched, nailed by the crossroads

reality of being both the archetypal object of fear, and

also living implicitly in fear of state-sanctioned assault.

I’ve spent the majority of my life, and t he entirety of my

art practice, trying to decipher these contradictions,

pushing my body in search of the sweat that untethers

my sinew from my spirit, writing myself a road map

through and out of this protracted hour of chaos. And

so I must admit to a curatorial bias toward performance

work that implies a process of similar yearning,

performers (of any ethnicity) whose curiosities are not

just intellectual but ontological, who find t hemselves

fighting through art for something that feels like living

free

...

Freedom isn’t silent.

Which is to say that I don’t know what freedom truly

“feels” like, but in every way I can imagine it, there is

music playing. Loudly.

As I grew up in hip-hop, my boy will spend his teenage

years with Afro punk as the cultural barometer for black

cool, and by extension Afro punk will be his soundtrack

for contemporary black struggle. And

... in an evolutionary leap forward ...this contemporary soundtrack that

struggles to normalize hybridity is hella

black ... and ... keeps the State at the

length of the arm it takes to pass the

blunt ... keeps the State close, like a boa

constrictor around the shoulders of the

human who believes it owns the serpent.

Produced by Matthew Morgan and

Jocelyn Cooper, the annual Afropunk

Festival takes place in Brooklyn, Atlanta,

and Paris and is at the epicenter of

urban culture inspired by alternative

music. While Morgan, Cooper, and

their incredible team understand the

power of cultural gathering and the

multicolored, hypnotic effect of music,

their work mirrors the aspiration of

YBCA’s new vision. Theirs is a culturalinstitution whose passion is the art, but

whose ambition is cultural shift.

Coates writes, “Race is the child of

racism, not the father.” My boy is

coming to know that he, too, is the

child of histories he’d rather not have

to understand. There is fair ground

in his passage from excusable apathy

to heightened accountability—a wide

swath of spectrum from law to state to

justice. Together, we’re moving toward

the far end of that spectrum, which of

course isn’t a destination but a way of

being in the world, a depth-informed

fashion, an inquiry-driven free style ...

I believe in the Christ, but American Jesus has lost mytrust . . .

How to pray within a filtered religion of star spangledviolence masquerading as deity . . .

pray my soul to keep within the bosom of Americandream . . .


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One of the artists in the exhibition,

Shaun Leonardo, also grapples with

notions of invisibility in his new

commission, The Eulogy , which

debuted at the YBCA Radical Presence

opening. Taking Ralph Ellison’s 1952

novel Invisible Man as his starting

point, Leonardo developed a work

that drew on the history of invisibility

that threads its way throughout the

exhibition. In the novel, the unnamed

narrator’s friend and brother-in-arms,

Tod Clifton, is gunned down by a police

officer in broad daylight, while unarmed.

“At the opening of Radical Presence: Black Performance

in Contemporary Art on June 13, 2015, curator Valerie

Cassel Oliver and exhibition artist Carrie Mae Weems

activated Theaster Gates’s See, Sit, Sup, Sing: Holding

Court. During their conversation—a back-and-forth-

style interview about each other’s practices—Cassel

Oliver stated that in her curatorial work she is always

looking for the histories that need to be brought to the

fore. Through this particular exhibition, she was looking

to redress performance history as we know it, and

create a means for artists of color to see themselves

reflected in the history of performance art. A littlemore than a month later, the writer D. Scot Miller again

activated Holding Court and, in response to a question

about the role of black artists, stated that “invisibility

is not absence.” Both Cassel Oliver and Miller were

essentially making the same point—that just because

the story hasn’t been historically told doesn’t mean the

players were not there.

One of the artists in the exhibition, Shaun Leonardo,

also grapples with notions of invisibility in his new

commission, The Eulogy, which debuted at the YBCA

Radical Presence opening. Taking Ralph Ellison’s 1952

novel Invisible Man as his starting point, Leonardo

developed a work that drew on the history of invisibility

that threads its way throughout the exhibition. In the

novel, the unnamed narrator’s friend and brother-in-arms, Tod Clifton, is gunned down by a police officer

in broad daylight, while unarmed. Leonardo performed

the eulogy that the narrator gave at Clifton’s funeral,

but instead of repeating Clifton’s name throughout t he

speech as happens in the novel, he replaced it with

those of a series of recent victims of police brutality in

the United States. With each new name, it got harder

to remember those that came before, and the speech

became, in Leonardo’s hands, a challenge and a call

to action, just as the original was a challenge from the

speaker to his community to never let Tod Clifton fall

outside of history.

BY SUSIE KANTOR

Both Cassel Oliver and Leonardo

actively work to tell the stories of those

who do not always have the opportunity

to tell their own, and I have been

privileged to work closely with both of

them on an exhibition that has forever

changed my own personal, curatorial,

and societal visions. In different but

equally powerful ways, both Cassel

Oliver and Leonardo have provided

inspiration, while also reminding me

that complacence is the easy way out.

They challenge conventional societal

modes of thinking, and Leonardo in

particular has expressed an urgency

through his practice that is deeply

inspiring—and the reason I was moved

to nominate him for this year’s YBCA

100 list. Conversations with Cassel

Oliver, Leonardo, and other Radical

Presence artists—Tameka Norris,

Clifford Owens, Carrie Mae Weems,

Maren Hassinger, and Coco Fusco, to

name a few—remind me that I am in a

place of privilege that I cannot take for

granted, and that art, in all of its forms,

can be powerfully, persuasively, an

agent for change.


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2726

...not only has Myint (and Kickstarter)

changed the way I thought about

charitable support, but he’s now taking

the “doing good” mentality further

and setting a standard for sustainable

business practices in his industry.

“ In 2010, I backed Anthony Myint’s Kickstarter campaignfor Mission Chinese Food. I did so again in 2014 for thePerennial, opening later this year. Underlying the careMyint takes to create well-crafted meals is his desireto care for his fellow humans and the planet they liveon. All of Myint’s restaurants (Mission Chinese Food,Commonwealth, the Perennial) donate a portion of

their proceeds to charity, but the Perennial is goingone step further to address climate change and foodsystems head-on. The restaurant will utilize a closed-loop aquaponics system—a sustainable cycle in whichthe restaurant’s food by-products become fish food,whose waste in turn nourishes greens harvested forthe restaurant. With these endeavors, not only hasMyint (and Kickstarter) changed the way I thoughtabout charitable support, but he’s now taking the“doing good” mentality further and setting a standardfor sustainable business practices in his industry.

I’m thrilled to see the systemic change crowdfundingappears to be making in the culture of giving.Personally, I’ve given more money to creativeprojects through Kickstarter since 2009 than I everdonated to charitable causes before. This new way ofraising support is a wonderful complement to otherphilanthropic tactics. In my role at YBCA, I fundraisefor the work of artists grappling with importantcultural issues. I have the privilege to delight their

supporters with tangible perks and the knowledgethat we, as a community, prioritize sustaining the artssector through participation and philanthropy. Myint’scommitment to improving people’s lives throughcreative endeavors, alongside those of MAD, RoyChoi, Zero Foodprint, René Redzepi, and Dan Barber,among others, continue to inspire my work. Theyelevate their tremendous passion for food into strongacts of culture.

Outside of my workday, my creative activity centerson crafting meals to share with others. Shortly I’ll beholding my first soup exchange, inviting friends tomake a large pot of soup to be swapped for a quartof another guest’s creation. In this small ritual ofcommunity, I hope to keep those around me well fedand inspired. Want to join in? Email me at [email protected]. Here’s an easy recipe to get you started:

BY EMILY LAKIN

BUTTERNUT SQUASH

AND WHITE BEAN CHILI1 small onion, diced

1 15-ounce can chopped tomatoes (I liketo use tomatoes with chiles)1 tablespoon olive oil, butter, or lard1 garlic clove, minced2–3 cups stock2–3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar1 butternut squash1 15-ounce can of great northern beans1 tablespoon ground cumin1 teaspoon oregano1 teaspoon ground paprika (smokedpaprika is great if you’re making thisvegetarian; otherwise I suggest sautéingthe onion and garlic in bacon fat)

tortilla chips, avocado, cilantro, and/or

cheese, as garnish

Roast a butternut squash and cut itinto cubes. Sauté the onion with your

fat of choice in a heavy-bottomed potover medium heat until softened. Addgarlic and spices and sauté another 1or 2 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes,squash, and stock, and simmer forabout 10 minutes. (If you are usingfresh tomatoes and chiles, add themfirst and sauté until softened.) Addsalt to taste and finish with apple cidervinegar.

This is my best guess at a recipe Iimprovise on regularly. SometimesI add chicken or ground turkey.Sometimes I finish it by throwing in acheese rind. Sometimes I add othervegetables such as kale, red pepper,parsnips, or carrots. Make it your own!

“The shared meal elevates eating from a mechanical process of fueling the body to a ritual of family andcommunity, from the mere animal biology to an act of

culture.”

—Michael Pollan, In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto

(2008)


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2928

More to the point, [Hensley] knows

Shakespeare wrote about people

on the emotional, psychological,

economic, physical edge, and that his

work becomes more authentic, more

complete, closer to excellent, when

people like that are in the audience.

“

Is there one life choice? Is there one life? For so manyyears, the answer for me was an obvious yes. But itreally wasn’t ever a question for me. I didn’t question mychoice to become an artistic director, even long beforeI became one. It seemed generally noble: shepherdinga nonprofit arts organization; rooting myself, and it, ina region; responding to need; identifying vision; makingplays.

California Shakespeare Theater was so far away fromwhere I thought I’d build my career, make my legacy. Itwas, at the time, a traditional Shakespeare festival witha reach that did not extend far beyond its beautifuland homogeneous home in the Bay Area, with anadventurous past toward which it had both a longing

and a repulsion. It was definitely not a prize theater totake the helm of. And so I turned it around, moved itin the direction of the most progressive and creativeregional theaters, and made it a reflection of myself:populist, untraditional, rigorous, fun.

Thirteen years into my tenure, I longed to find directorswho were new to me, for directors had always beenthe primary (and often sole) strategy for fulfilling themission of Cal Shakes. At a national theater conference,I asked two people I greatly respected—Polly Carl fromArtsEmerson and Diane Ragsdale, a former nationalarts foundation officer now living in the Netherlands—who they considered the best director of Shakespearein America. They did not hesitate: Michelle Hensley.

Hensley is the artistic director of Ten Thousand Thingsin Minneapolis, a theater company she founded 25 yearsago. She believes that theater is better when everyoneis in the audience. More to the point, she knowsShakespeare wrote about people on the emotional,psychological, economic, physical edge, and that his

work becomes more authentic, more complete, closerto excellent, when people like that are in the audience.She believes that when you strip the work down tothe words, the actors, and the audience, eschewingtraditionally defined production values—taking thework out of the performance venue and putting inthe community space—you really test your belief inthe “enduring power of theater.” Without adornment,theater must rely on its DNA to prove its mettle, andwhen it does, there’s nothing like it.

She did that for Cal Shakes. And in the process shealso did something profound for me: she changed thequestion.

I think I’m a pretty good director. At base level I’m aB+. I know and understand the landscape of artists andaudiences that comprise a regional theater’s community.

BY JONATHAN MOSCONE

That’s because I am one of them. And

although I am not afraid of risk as anartistic director, I am afraid of it as adirector—so much so that my work isquite choreographic, like dancing math,where everything adds up. Which canbe very satisfying to experience. ButI never asked: To whom am I tellingthese stories, and to what end? Whatis my role as an artist, as a leader, as acitizen? What is the real legacy, the onethat changes the city that I was born in,that I love?

I didn’t feel like I could pursue the realanswers in my role as an artistic director.That job has different questions, and youhave match the right questions with theright answers. So I moved on to a newcareer in civic engagement, becauseof Michelle Hensley. She inspired meto make a new choice. She inspires mestill. I live for inspiration now, which isbeautiful and sometimes terrifying, forit puts me at risk at every turn. If I reallylisten, there are new questions everyday, from people on top, in the middle,and living on the edge, and some ofthem will change my life.It gives me hope, this newfound faithin change. And with hope comes thepossibility of making art matter to thecivic discourse of our city, for thereis no more hopeful act than makingtheater, or any art, with and for peoplewho make it better by being included.

Hensley’s work is indeed excellent.It proves its mettle and lifts theaterand communities up. It gives hope tothe field, to the form, to anyone whoparticipates.


17/27

3130

How does a nation state, or an

entity like a terrorist group,

enforce a message in the speedy

crosscurrents of memes and filter

bubbles? Presented both online as a

series of short films distributed across

multiple platforms, and in the gallery

as a multichannel video installation,

Metahaven’s new work The Sprawl

occupies precisely this space.

“In a recent interview for DIS Magazine, the art historian

David Joselit stated:

“We need to change our habit of thinking that art

objects stand for something else; that their primary

function is to represent. Instead, these objects act

in various ways, including provoking future events

or effects. Representing is always retrospective:

something has to pre-exist the art object in order to

be represented. I think art’s special capacity is, on

the contrary, its futurity.”

Joselit is asking artworks to be prognostic and engaged.

Echoing my own perspective, he argues that artworks

are active agents in contemporary culture.

For the YBCA 100 I nominated Metahaven, who view

their field of graphic design as a means of knowledge

production. Their work uncovers the explicit and

implicit ideologies that become built into function,

thus revealing how design is not strictly utilitarian

or apolitical. Their recent research looks closely

at propaganda in the age of social media, and will

culminate in a solo exhibition at YBCA from December

18, 2015, to April 3, 2016. In past decades, propaganda

was wielded by a “one to many” media regime, but

this has shifted in our current “many to many” regimeaided by social media platforms. How does a nation

state, or an entity like a terrorist group, enforce a

message in the speedy crosscurrents of memes and

filter bubbles? Presented both online as a series of

short films distributed across multiple platforms,

BY CECI MOSS

and in the gallery as a multichannel

video installation, Metahaven’s new

work The Sprawl occupies precisely

this space. In effect, the intentionally

dispersed format of the film syncs

into the existing viral swarm, and the

film becomes embedded into its own

subject matter. I find this gesture

incredibly compelling. Following

Joselit’s powerful quote above, it

addresses an enduring question for me

as a curator: how art can create potent

moments of resistance and insight.


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3332

Preciado’s investigations of biopolitics

and body hacking in what he calls this

“pharmacopornographic era” are

increasingly controversial and relevant,

as biotech will continue to provide new

possibilities.

“

Now that biotech and capitalism have made it possible

for humans to more intentionally alter the body and

subjective experience at the molecular level, how do

we choose to regulate our cognition and states of

consciousness, and what are the values behind those

choices?

Perhaps I go for a run and shift the chemical makeup

of my brain through physical exertion, or I meditate

and the repetitive breathing and attentiveness signals

differently neurologically. Or maybe I consume a beer

and the alcoholic substance affects the circuits, andI experience yet another state. The neurobiology of

consciousness and cognition composes the subjective

state from which we per form our everyday lives.

From Sam Harris’s writing about various chemical

effects in Waking Up (2014) to Oliver Sacks’s self-

experimentation and clinical observations referenced

in On the Move (2015), an expanded awareness of

subjective states and cognitive drivers via neurobiology

is proliferating among writers of all stripes. Maggie

Nelson writes about the potential for the hormones in

her body during pregnancy and early motherhood to

alter her work and thought processes in her 2015 book

The Argonauts.

In Testo Junkie (2008), Paul (Beatriz) Preciado goesfurther, asserting that in an era of pharmacological

engineering, “We are being confronted with a new

kind of hot, psychotropic, punk capitalism. Such

recent transformations are imposing an ensemble of

new prosthetic mechanisms of control of subjectivity

by means of biomolecular and multimedia technical

protocols.”1

The pharmaceutical development of synthetic

molecules for commercial uses during the 20th century

expands the possibilities for controlling subjective

experience and increases stakes as influencers include

BY JULIE POTTER

products such as the pill, testosterone,

insulin, serotonin, et cetera. Molecular

biology dials subjective states, and the

lenses through which we see the world.

Ultimately, it influences the brain as

we form our thoughts and beliefs.

Therefore, Preciado’s investigations of

biopolitics and body hacking in what

he calls this “pharmacopornographic

era” are increasingly controversial and

relevant, as biotech will continue to

provide new possibilities.

Preciado’s text notes that “We are

consumers of air, dreams, identity,

relation, things of the mind. This

pharmapornographic capitalism

functions in reality, thanks to

the biomediatic management of

subjectivity, through molecular

control and the production of virtual

audiovisual connections.”2 Consider

the body a biopolitical archive. How

then do we choose to regulate our

cognition and states of consciousness?

Who is in control?

NOTES

1. Paul B. Preciado, Testo Junkie: Sex, Drugs, andBiopolitics in the Pharmacopornographic Era.

2. Ibid


19/27

3534

I see Dan Parham and Neighborland

connecting ideas for transforming

neighborhoods with people and

resources that can realize them. I see

Team Better Block creating pop-up

markets and dog parks on street

corners where such spaces have

never been imagined. And I see

Walter Hood painting streets

and erecting sculptures to help

communities see that their homes

can reflect their dreams.

“ I recently bought a chair for my living room. This was farfrom an impulse buy; I’ve been thinking about buying achair for six months. I wanted to start inviting peopleover for dinner parties, and I thought adding a chair

would make my living room accommodating enough to

do so.

I’ve thought many times in the last six months about

having dinner parties, and I’ve had none. Each time, I

looked at my chair-less living room and thought, “Not

ready.” A few Saturdays ago, though, my morning plans

fell through, and with the extra time on my hands, Idecided to look for a chair. A mere two hours, four

stores, and $35 later, I had one.

After moving the chair into my apartment, I stood

and looked at it. While admiring it, I realized that my

hesitation about dinner parties wasn’t about a chair.

It was about the “not ready.” More specifically, it was

about me not being ready—not put-together enough,

not stable enough—to have a dinner party. In the six

months prior, I had let my living room remain just that:

not ready. And every time I thought about having

a dinner party, the state of my living room was the

perfect excuse not to do so.

Now, though, my living room looks different. It’s a

reflection not of unreadiness, but of possibility. Of thefact that with time and effort, I can make my living room

into anything I want, into a place that I love, a place that

will have me stoked , rather than afraid, to host a dinner

party.

When I look at our YBCA 100, I see people who help

make possibility visible in spaces much bigger, more

complex, and more storied than my living room. I see

Dan Parham and Neighborland connecting ideas

for transforming neighborhoods with people and

resources that can realize them. I see Team Better

Block creating pop-up markets and dog parks on

BY ALEX RYAN RANDALL

street corners where such spaces have

never been imagined. And I see Walter

Hood painting streets and erecting

sculptures to help communities see

that their homes can reflect their

dreams.

I think this work is incredibly important.

It is helping people create space

into which they can welcome both

themselves and others. It is helping

people create community.

I often find myself assuming that the

spaces I occupy, be it my living room

or my city, are not something I can

change. When I do that, I feel trapped,

limited in what I can be in them. But

these projects are reminders that we

can always change the spaces around

us. We can choose to make the spaces

we occupy ones that inspire us, ones

that remind us of how big we can be.

And when we’re in spaces like this,

welcoming others in will be the most

natural thing we could possibly do.


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3736

The artists I selected for inclusion

in the YBCA 100 keep me going.

Khalik Allah’s indelible and

hallucinatory portraits of the

denizens of his neighborhood in

Harlem. Kevin Jerome Everson and

Raya Martin’s experimental

provocations, which endlessly

question and reinvent themselves.

Park Jung-Bum’s radical, gritty

social realism. Even the drop-

dead nihilism of the comic

Doug Stanhope , which offers no

hope at all.

“ I recently spent three weeks overseas, attending filmfestivals in the Philippines and taking a vacation inKyoto, Japan. I was struck by the pride the residents

of Kyoto seemed to take in their city. It was clean

everywhere, everything worked, and everyone was

friendly and helpful. Kyoto felt comfortable and like

“home,” even though I didn’t know anyone and had to

communicate mostly through abstract mouth sounds

and pantomime.

Upon my return to San Francisco, I decided to catch

up on what current events had occurred in my

absence, but everything seemed to be full of despair

and horror. A beautiful old lion was killed by a dentist

from Minnesota. A reporter and cameraman were

shot dead live on camera. A big stock market crash.

Also, Donald Trump. Locally, Mayor Ed Lee told the

homeless they would have to leave the streets before

the Super Bowl. My Facebook feed was a never-ending

howl of housing-related injustice, portraying the city as

a combination of The Walking Dead and a playground

for yuppie zillionaires.

Most people I talk to these days feel a nagging sense

of instability. Some say they no longer recognize their

own city. I sometimes share these feelings. What

is to be done? First of all, don’t give up. I’ve workedprofessionally in film exhibition and arts administration

for well over 20 years now, and it has never gotten any

easier. The challenges are new, but they’re always

there. You could see this as a bummer and say fuck

it—or you could get excited, and use uncertainty as a

kind of fuel that allows these challenges to motivate

you to keep going, full speed.

The artists I selected for inclusion in the YBCA 100

keep me going. Khalik Allah’s indelible and hallucinatory

portraits of the denizens of his neighborhood in

BY JOEL SHEPARD

Harlem. Kevin Jerome Everson

and Raya Martin’s experimental

provocations, which endlessly

question and reinvent themselves.

Park Jung-Bum’s radical, gritty social

realism. Even the drop-dead nihilism

of the comic Doug Stanhope, which

offers no hope at all. These artists

give us offerings that sustain, edify,

and challenge us to examine ourselves

and our world, and then to act upon

what we’ve learned. It’s been my life’s

work to do what I can to share these

offerings with you—to seek out things

you wouldn’t likely come across on

your own, and then frame them in

a way that helps clarify why they’revaluable. Let’s walk together into the

unknown and share what we discover.


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Bourgeois and Bruguera are but two

examples of how artists use identity, and

the places they come from, to highlight

and share larger stories surrounding

change, home, and the identity one

projects outward.

“

The idea of where one comes from, whether a physicalplace or a state of mind, is always at the forefront ofmy thought processes. Notions of place, identity, andchange always fascinate me when I am digesting art.“Home” can mean many things to many people, andcan change over the course of a lifetime. How does aperson reconcile where they are with where they havecome from? Do you ever get to a certain point whereyou are so far removed from your place of origin that itescapes you entirely, or do you hold onto a piece of yourinitial being that informs your work over the course of alifetime? Artists working in all genres manipulate thesequestions, and the results can be an array of sensoryand theoretical journeys that challenge the definitionsof time and space.

Douglas Bourgeois is an example of a YBCA 100 artistwho, for me, exemplifies many of these questions,and he has spent a lifetime working through them.Sometimes he finds answers via his own endeavors,but oftentimes he productively mines and perpetuatesthe questions by telling stories about others whohave informed his identity, both as an artist and asa man. His work is deeply informed by the regionalpsyche of New Orleans and Southern culture atlarge. As the writer Michael Knowlton points out,

“Bourgeois mines the autobiographical; paintingsrefer to 1950s boyhood and schoolmates in ruralLouisiana where he grew up the son of a sign painter and b arber. Painting on wood panel withoils, he venerates music culture from the ’50s on, portraying legends famous to obscure. Bourgeoishas painted Elvis, but sticks with mostly blackmusicians—Little Eva, Bootsy Collins, Nat Cole,Aretha Franklin, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas,

Florence Ballard, Rakim Allah, and Ronnie Spectorare his domain. These music paintings resonatewith an authenticity that is not affected. Bourgeoisis telling their story.” 1

Tania Bruguera, another featured YBCA 100 artist,oftentimes creates works that are of the moment (sheis a performance artist), but the themes and historiesshe pulls from are inspired by her Cuban heritage,and the relations she has with her home country sincehaving established herself as a globally recognizedartist and activist. After an attempt to hold a publicperformance in Havana in January 2015, the Cubangovernment seized her passport, detaining her insideher country of origin. The Los Angeles Times noted inJune 2015 that “after having her passport revoked,[she] was forced to remain in the country as the Cubangovernment weighed whether to pursue chargesagainst her. With the return of her passport, it is safe

BY MARTIN STRICKLAND

to assume that the government will not

pursue charges against her. This is goodnews for Bruguera, who has been livingin limbo since she was first detainedat the tail end of last year.”2 The largerissue of this detainment highlights,as Coco Fusco wrote in e-flux journal in January 2015, notions of freedomof artistic expression, free speech,and the expectations of residents ofother countries (namely the UnitedStates): “The assumption that agovernment’s policies and practicescould be transformed so quickly[after the restoration of diplomaticrelations between the U.S. and Cuba] is politically naive or disingenuous.” 3

Bourgeois and Bruguera are but twoexamples of how artists use identity,and the places they come from, tohighlight and share larger storiessurrounding change, home, and theidentity one projects outward. Aswe continue to explore the artistsfeatured in the YBCA 100, I intendto dig in, peel back, peer into, andexamine how artists across all genres,using a variety of mediums, push backat these questions, and the ways inwhich their work can inform how I t hinkand feel about my experiences, bothpast and future.

NOTES

1. Micheal Knowlton, “Douglas Bourgeois: PsychadelicSouthern Gothic,” Juxtapoz, December 21, 2006,http://arthurrogergallery.com/2006/12/douglas-bourgeois-psychedelic-southern-gothic-juxtapoz/2. Carolina A. Miranda, “Dissident Artist TaniaBruguera Has Passport Returned by CubanAuthorities,” Los Angeles Times, July 13, 2015. 3.Coco Fusco, “The State of Detention: Performance,Politics, and the Cuban Public,” e-flux journal 60(December 2014), http://www.e-flux.com/journal/the-state-of-detention-performance-politics-and-the-cuban-public/.


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4140

Most days, I feel overwhelmed by the

enormity of this question, but all the

time, as I travel through the city, I see

so many San Franciscans quietly goingabout the process of making change and

creating the place in which they want

to live. One such inspiration is the Red

Poppy Art House and the work of its

founder, Todd Brown, who are carving

out space for art and community in the

heart of one of the most sought-after

neighborhoods in the city.

“Back in July, I was half-listening to Forum on KQED and

cleaning up after dinner when the voice of the author

and food blogger Jessica Fechtor came on the radio,

saying, “Home is a not a noun; it is a verb.” She was

talking about her recovery from a debilitating brain

aneurysm and how the process of cooking helped her

find her way back into herself. Her words stuck with

me: “It is not about where you live, but about how you

live.”1

I couldn’t help thinking about my home city of San

Francisco, and wondering: What is it that makes thisplace my home? How does the way I live impact

those around me? in my neighborhood? in my work at

YBCA? as a resident of San Francisco? And what can

I do to help shape San Francisco into the city I wish

it to be?

Anyone can see that San Francisco is in the midst

of dramatic change. We’ve been on the cover of

nearly every newspaper at some point or other,

the subject of articles with titles like “Tech-tonic

shifts,”2 “Gentrification Spreads an Upheaval in San

Francisco’s Mission District,”3 “A Tech Boom Aimed at

the Few, Instead of the World,”4 and “A New Theory

on San Francisco’s Inequality Problem.”5 There are

many conflicting opinions and opposing reports, but

everyone agrees that something big is happening. From 2010 to 2014, San Francisco welcomed more

than 50,000 new residents inside its borders,6 and

with more than 36 construction cranes dotting the

skyline, the city is poised to bring in even more new

residents over the coming years. Employment in the

tech sector grew by 42 percent and created more

than 40,000 new jobs in the last two years.7 This

consistently strong economic growth has helped push

median home rental rates to more than $3,000 a

month, representing one of the highest costs of living

in the country, and despite the prolific construction

of new housing, the rapidly rising cost of living has

BY CLAIRE WILLEY

displaced many existing lower-income

residents and the nonprofits that

serve them. When put together, these

changes add up to one of the largest

demographic shifts in recent memory.

No matter how you feel about this

change, it is altering the fabric of San

Francisco’s identity in a fundamental

way. With the influx of new residents

comes an influx of new perspectives,

new ideas, and many different sets

of values. It is impossible to say now

what the future will look like, but we

all know that previously fixed cultural

assumptions are being brought into

question as many outside perspectives

are folded into our existing cultural

matrix. The last couple of years have

seen a backlash against the outsize

influence of the tech industry in local

government, but very little attention is

being paid to the unique opportunities

that will open up during this rapid

cultural transition. With so much

change in the air, I can’t help but feel

that this is a key moment for culture

makers to step in and help craft

the values they want to see in San

Francisco moving forward.

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What can I do to help shape San Francisco into the city I wish it to be?

Most days, I feel overwhelmed by the enormity of this question, but all the time, as I travel through

the city, I see so many San Franciscans quietly going about the process of making change and

creating the place in which they want to live. One such inspiration is the Red Poppy Art House and

the work of its founder, Todd Brown, who are carving out space for art and community in the heart

of one of the most sought-after neighborhoods in the city. Red Poppy operates from a storefront

on the corner of 23rd and Folsom, and has created an intimate community space that hosts more

than 150 performances, exhibitions, workshops, and artist residencies each year.

One of the keys to its success is a focus on visibility and inclusivity, which brings newcomers

and longtime residents together to explore the groups and cultures we currently inhabit, and to

encounter one another in meaningful ways. Red Poppy couldn’t work without the help of many

volunteers, and it relies on the energy of the community in all ways. It provides an inspiring model

of grassroots activism by creating a welcoming space for people of all backgrounds to explore the

artistic process together, giving the neighborhood a sense of ownership over the space and the art.

Spaces such as Red Poppy have a tangible effect on the community around them. Their work helps

bring people closer, knitting the neighborhood together and building bridges between individuals

of very different backgrounds. This active participation in the community starts a virtuous cycle

which then makes possible projects such as the Mission Arts & Performance Project, which further

works to bring art into everyday lives. MAPP consists of a loose group of people who pull together

a crazy quilt of different spaces scattered around the Mission District to create a beautiful outdoor

arts festival every couple of months. By opening up curation to anyone who wishes to join in and

allowing everyone to curate a space of their own, MAPP encourages newcomers and longtime

residents to open their doors to anyone walking by and open up their hearts to whatever the night

may bring, whether it is opera on a rooftop or flamenco in someone’s backyard. This helps cement

the area as a creative and cultural home for everyone, building relationships among people who

may not have had other opportunities know one another, and working to heal the wounds caused

by inequality, gentrification, and rapid local change.

It is an inspiration to walk through the city on a night when music spills onto the sidewalk and

laughter can be heard coming from almost every direction. For a moment I can forget my worries

for the future and nostalgia for the past and simply revel in the moment with the people around

me, whoever they may be. It restores my faith in San Francisco and reminds me that everyone

can make a difference when they share their passions freely with anyone they meet. I do still feel

overwhelmed by all the change overtaking the city and struggle with the question of what I can do

to help make San Francisco into the city I want to see. But thinking of places such as Red Poppy

helps me remember that to take part in those changes I need to meet the new residents, listen to

the new ideas, share my joys, and see my city from a new perspective. For if home is a verb, then it

is an action, and I must take action to truly be at home.

NOTES

1. “Jessica Fechtor Shares the ‘Recipes That Brought Her Home’ After Aneurysm,” Forum with Michael Krasny, KQED radio, July 10, 2015,http://www.kqed.org/a/forum/R201507101000.

2. TheEconomist.com, July 23, 2015, http://www.economist.com/blogs/graphicdetail/2015/07/daily-chart-mapping-fortunes-silicon-valley.

3. Carol Pogash, New York Times, May 22, 2015, http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/23/us/high-rents-elbow-latinos-from-san-franciscos-mission-district.html.

4. Farhad Manjoo, New York Times, May 20, 2015, http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/21/technology/personaltech/a-tech-boom-aimed-at-the-few-instead-of-the-world.html.

5. Gregory Ferenstein, Pacific Standard, March 31, 2015, http://www.psmag.com/business-economics/new-theory-on-san-franciscos-inequality-problem.

6. http://quickfacts.census.gov/qfd/states/06/06075.html.

7. http://sfced.org/case-for-business/facts-figures/.


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While the younger twenty-

something Gameros writes

gorgeous, lush melodies, Tijoux

creates intricate, danceable,

polyphonic rhythms and beats,

fusing old and new sounds with

rapid-fire rhymes...

“

Songs are like my tattoos. They have carried me

throughout my life, comforting sorrow, lifting me up

to dance or sing, helping me find my own voice, and

inspiring me to change, or to feel a part of something

bigger than myself. I grew up during the 1960s and

1970s in a time of tumultuous change, when songs

were delivered on the radio, inspiring my generation

to rebellion, urging us out into the streets to protest

all of the “isms” of our current epoch, which persist

to this day. As a teenager and in my early 20s, songs

helped me find my place in the world, to revel in my

own identity, to celebrate with kin and friends, to have

a sense of belonging. Songs still remind me where I

came from, where I was when the song came out,

what I was thinking about and feeling at the time. They

conjure up vivid sense memories.

During my youth, so many singer-songwriters were

writing songs that lifted people up and brought us

together in ways that truly changed the world. Songs

such as “War” by Edwin Starr, “Imagine” by John

Lennon, and Bob Marley’s “Get Up Stand Up” inspired

my generation into action. At home, my parents’ record

player nourished me, gave me a sense of place. Songs

like “Burundanga” made famous by Celia Cruz, and

the Cha-cha-cha “El Bodeguero” by Orquesta Aragón,

were our religion. As a family of immigrants, Cuba’s

soundtrack was ever present, as was cigar smoke and

the cacophony of simultaneous conversations andlaughter. When I hear these songs, I can smell the

aroma of my mother’s delicious black beans and rice,

and I remember Christmas Eve, when our parents and

extended family danced all night long. We kids danced

too, but with all eyes on the living room clock, waiting

for midnight so that we could open our presents left

by Los Tres Reyes Magos (the Three Wise Men).

In my early 20s I discovered equally inspiring

songs from my native Cuba—from the Nueva Trova

movement, particularly those of Silvio Rodríguez—and

from the Nueva Canción movement in South America

that connected me to the struggles and aspirations

of Latin American youth, and helped me feel a part

BY ISABEL YRIGOYEN

of my own culture. These new songs

brought me back to my roots, to thecultural riches of my own heritage

and its history. I became immersed

in the new Latin American song

movement as a performer here in

San Francisco, singing many of those

songs myself, and also writing songs in

the style of Nueva Trova. Rodríguez’s

song “Sueño con Serpientes” , Victor

Jara’s “Te Recuerdo Amanda” , and

Violeta Parra’s “Volver a los 17” sung

by the legendary Argentinian singer

Mercedes Sosa became my songs.

Those songs traveled throughout all

of Latin America and the world, as

did “Give Peace a Chance” by John

Lennon and Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ inthe Wind” .

My fascination with songs and

songwriters continues to this day. I

am always searching for songwriters

who have something important to

share, who stop me in my tracks to

listen deeply no matter what’s going

on. What grabs me is how the melody

(usually in a minor key) and the

words fit together like a glove. Unlike

instrumental music, songs have to tell

me a story that moves me, inspires me,

takes me somewhere unexpected.


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For this year’s YBCA 100 list I nominated two Latin American songwriters who are

very gifted, powerful women who remind me of those songwriters from the 1970s and

1980s. They, too, empower their generation to question authority. They don’t sing just

for themselves; they sing because they believe we have a responsibility to make adifference. They are French-Chilean MC-songwriter Ana Tijoux and the Mexican, San Francisco–based indie songwriter Diana Gameros. They couldn’t be more different in musical style or inattitude, and they take completely different approaches to songwriting. Tijoux is a didactic andbombastic messenger whereas Gameros is more subtle, a folksy songwriter, singing with her guitarin hand, sometimes accompanied by a band.

Gameros’s music has been compared in its subtlety, beauty, and nuance to that of Caetano Veloso,Charlotte Gainsbourg, and Joanna Newsom. She sings in Spanish, English, and French, reflectingthe 21st-century sensibilities of a young indie artist at the borderlands between cultures, languages,and genres. Her songs are shaped by this interchange between belonging and longing. Brazilianshave the best word for the feeling of longing, of being separated from those you love and the l andyou come from: saudade. In a sweet sad ballad called “Cómo Hacer”, she sings with deep feeling:

How can I make my land forgive me?

How can we make her garden flourish again,

and let her know as well that

far hurts

I live to see her again1

While the younger twenty-something Gameros writes gorgeous, lush melodies, Tijoux createsintricate, danceable, polyphonic rhythms and beats, fusing old and new sounds with rapid-fire

rhymes, stomping around the stage like a preacher, bringing the audience to its feet supported byher band. She was born in 1977 in France, where her parents had fled the Pinochet dictatorship,and moved to Chile in her teens. An exciting performer to watch live, she inspires youth to riseup against oppression, singing songs that speak of working-class struggles, put down femaleobjectification, and empower women and girls. Tijoux’s 2014 album Vengo showcases a whirlwindtrip through hip-hop, jazz, and funk, spiced with political themes. The song “Somos Sur” opens:

You tell us we should sit down

But ideas can only rise us

Walk, march, don’t surrender or retreat

See, learn like a sponge absorbs

No one is surplus, all fall short, all add up

All for all, all for us

We dream big that the empire may fall

We shout out loud, there is no other remedy left

This is not utopia, this is a joyful dancing rebellion

Of those who are overrun, this dance is yours and mine

Let’s rise to say “enough is enough”

Neither Africa or Latin America are for auction

With mud, with a helmet, with a pencil, drum the fiasco

To provoke a social earthquake in this puddle

All the silenced (all)

All the neglected (all)

All the invisible (all)

All, all

All, all 2

The best songs are those that stay with us in our hearts; they are groundbreaking melodies matchedby equally powerful words that tell us truths in new ways. They are songs that make us feel heard

when our lives are described as if the song were written for us. The songs inspire us to believe inour dreams or wake up from a nightmare. They are songs we can sing along to on a road trip withthe windows rolled down, or listen to quietly on a rainy day when we really need a good cry.

Blue, songs are like tattoos

You know I’ve been to sea before

Crown and anchor me

Or let me sail away

Hey Blue, there is a song for you

Ink on a pin

Underneath the skin

An empty space to fill in 3

NOTES

1. Translation from https://dianagameros.bandcamp.com/track/c-mo-hacer.

2. Translation from http://lyrics.wikia.com/wiki/Ana_Tijoux:Somos_Sur/en.

3. From Joni Mitchell, “Blue” .


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N O T E S • S I G N AT U R E S • I D E A S • C O N T A C T S N O T E S • S I G N AT U R E S • I D E A S • C O N T A C T S


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Y E R B A B U E N A C E N T E R F O R T H E A R T SS A N F R A N C I S C O , C A

Y B C A . O R G

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