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For the Culture

Tone’s been busy. The arts nonprofit organization is dedicated to “elevat[ing] Black artists as innovative thought leaders, courageous storytellers, and risk-taking problem solvers through intentional exhibitions, conversations, concerts, and artist development, “with the goal of “shift[ing] the culture of Memphis through groundbreaking art, media, and communication that centers Black experiences in our city’s past, present, and future.”

To accomplish that goal, Tone has to keep a lot of plates spinning. The latest exhibition at their Orange Mound gallery, which opened on June 8th, is called “Invisible Man.” The theme for the group show, featuring artists from inside and outside Memphis, is deconstructing concepts of masculinity. “We’ve chosen that name because the essence of the exhibition is inspired by Ralph Ellison’s book Invisible Man,” says curator Kylon Wagner.

Tone’s annual Juneteenth celebration has become wildly popular. This year, it will stretch into three days, from Friday, June 14th, to Sunday, June 16th. It will feature the biggest lineup of entertainment yet and give attendees a preview of the latest developments in the organization’s grand opus: The transformation of a derelict Purina animal feed factory into an innovative center for Black arts, wellness, and entrepreneurship called Orange Mound Tower.

Sitting in the freshly renovated offices of the Tone gallery in Orange Mound, Tone executive director Victoria Jones says sometimes her organization’s ambitious agenda of community transformation can feel overwhelming. “It’s been going, it feels like hyper speed some days. We at Tone internally have really had to focus on building capacity so we could take on the project — not just take on the development of the project, but once it exists in its full capacity, actually grow into that larger space. And so, we have been working on capacity building for our staff, which has led to some really great partnerships with the Mellon Foundation, where we’ve been able to get everybody an honorable salary, wages, and healthcare. Obviously, that’s gonna change the morale of a team! So that’s been really exciting. We have had an opportunity to work with folks like the Memphis Music Initiative, who led the [office] renovation back here for us. … It’s a strong, solid team right now. We’re really learning our systems differently. Because we’ve been such a young, kind of scrappy organization that we were just like, ‘Ooh, let’s try this. Ooh, let’s try that.’ But now we’re learning what it means to actually build out systems, plan for the future, and see those things through. We’re learning what accountability structures could look like, and that’s been giving us space for our imaginations. I think that was a fear for me — and that could be my own Aquarius nature — that systems would block some of that imagination work. But we’ve understood, with the systems we’re beginning to implement, it actually gives the imagination space to grow and see the visions through.”

Juneteenth

1862 was not a good year for the United States. The Civil War was raging, and things were not going to plan for President Abraham Lincoln. In the East, Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s army was menacing Washington, D.C., and Lincoln was firing a succession of failed generals. Things were going better in the West, where General Ulysses S. Grant’s campaign to deny the Confederacy access to the Mississippi River had led to the capture of Memphis. But the cost was great, and Grant’s forces were getting bogged down laying siege to Vicksburg, Mississippi.

In early September, the two armies fought to a draw at Antietam, Maryland. It was the single bloodiest day in American history, with more than 27,000 dead, wounded, or missing. But it halted Lee’s invasion of the North, at least temporarily. On September 22nd, to capitalize on the victory, and give his abolitionist supporters the moral crusade against slavery they craved, President Lincoln announced the Emancipation Proclamation. Effective January 1, 1863, all slaves in the Confederate territories would be henceforth free. As the news of liberation spread, many enslaved Black people in the West ran away and flocked to newly liberated Memphis, altering the city’s demographics forever.

But many of the enslaved, who had been purposefully kept ignorant by their masters, didn’t know about the emancipation. Even after the Confederacy surrendered in April 1865, slavery continued in then-remote places like Texas. On June 19, 1865, Major General Gordon Granger landed in Galveston, Texas, to begin the military occupation and Reconstruction, and informed the people of Texas that “In accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free.” In the years that followed, the more than 250,000 Black people liberated that day started calling the holiday Juneteenth. The National Museum of African American History and Culture calls it “our country’s second Independence Day.”

Since it was founded as The CLTV, Tone has made Juneteenth their day of celebration. “We don’t have that many holidays that center our experience in general,” says Jones. “We have had to create Juneteenth. I think it’s our first opportunity to begin to truly celebrate freedom, even before it’s been fully won — ’cause I feel like we still got a little ways to go. It’s an opportunity for us to take a pause and go all the way up for what our ancestors had to go through, what our elders have walked us through, and what we can do in the future. It feels a lot like a real opportunity to celebrate this baton that’s been passed generation to generation. … Slavery didn’t happen a super long time ago, as much as we want to feel like it was some distant experience. My grandmother was raised in a home with someone who was enslaved as a child. The way that affects my family, and the ways I understand generation to generation what had to be sacrificed for my bloodline to be where it is right now, I don’t know of another holiday that would give me room to reflect on that, celebrate that, lift that up, love on the ancestors that had to go through that, and imagine what we can still be working on and doing going forward.”

In 2021, the festival debuted at 2205 Lamar Avenue, a long-vacant, blighted post-industrial site that featured a tower visible from all over the historic Orange Mound neighborhood. “That was the first festival,” says Jones. “We’d done one Juneteenth celebration before that. It did not include a festival. We outfitted this space to do a big gala. Then, after Covid, we thought we needed to bring it outdoors. What could an outdoor celebration look like? Should we try a festival? Can we do a festival?”

The 2021 Juneteenth festival was an unlikely success. Jones recalls a bartender, hired that first year, in a panic wondering how they were going to accommodate thousands of people in a place with no power and no working bathrooms. Unapologetic, Tone’s partner in the Orange Mound Tower project, provided the entertainment. The gathering went a long way toward putting Tone on the map of Memphis arts orgs. “It’s grown substantially each year,” says Jones. “Even with the rain that hit last year, we saw a huge boost in attendance and participation from the artists and headliners we had selected. It’s been a fun growth to watch.”

One of Tone’s goals for the festival is to make it a sort of Black homecoming, attracting people who have left Memphis to come back. “We’re wanting to name Memphis as the cultural beacon of the South, but wanting to do that in connection with other cities,” says Jones. “If we’re thinking about the emancipation of Black folks and that entire experience, the thought that the country as a whole can reckon with any kind of post-racist experience and not have that reckoning happening here in the South is null and void.”

When designing the celebration, Jones says the organizers asked themselves, “How do we participate in and help launch some of those efforts to offer up space for Black folks to be healing, and inviting folks from the South to participate in that? And then essentially hoping that the festival and we can become so large that it’s a true beacon back home, an invitation to come back home, if it’s for the weekend or if it’s for longer. Come back home; help build this new future with us. Juneteenth really gives us that opportunity. We are watching folks pull up for that weekend and get a taste of Memphis. It’s folks who might not have been here for a long time and are like, ‘I didn’t know this was happening here. I didn’t know these folks were here. I didn’t know this community was here.’”

Appropriately, for a Black homecoming celebration, Juneteenth 2024 kicks off with a game of Spades. How did the card game get so popular in the Black community? “I don’t know,” says Jones. “I just know I ain’t never been to a function without it.”

“It’s a game about making do with what you have. You get that hand, and how can you make it jump?” says Willie McDonald, Tone’s development director. “The gala didn’t feel like the right first touch point for the weekend. So just trying to figure out, how do we welcome folk? What we have been seeing in attendance lately is, folks are coming from outside of the city to join us. … Our Juneteenth celebration happens under the banner of a family reunion, and Spades is an essential family reunion activity.”

The Friday night Spades tournament will be held in the Tone gallery, amid the artwork of the “Invisible Man” exhibit. More than 150 people have signed up so far. “We’ll have a whole new, larger crowd to experience that exhibition,” says Jones.

“It was live last year,” says McDonald. “There was some controversy in the room.”

On Saturday night, the celebration moves across the street to Orange Mound Tower for the gala. “It’s in one of the smaller warehouses,” says Jones. “This year, the is theme is revival. I’m imagining reviving the tower. And so the theme will be ‘Sunday best.’”

The seated banquet will include a keynote speaker and entertainment from Beale Street musicians and the Tennessee Mass Choir. “The way it’s sectioned off, it gives us three or four different room opportunities. We gonna have some unique experiences in each room,” says Jones.

On Sunday, the party kicks into high gear, with a vendor marketplace and Black-owned food trucks. One new addition this year will be a carousel with actual horses. Since the event commemorated by Juneteenth happened in Texas, many enslaved people found out about their emancipation from Black cowboys who spread the word on horseback. The Black rancher tradition has recently been in the spotlight, thanks to Jordan Peele’s film Nope, and Beyonce’s country-flavored Cowboy Carter album. (Peele is currently producing a documentary about Black cowboys.) “That’s a real part of Juneteenth tradition that I don’t think we get to elevate as often, that it was a Black cowboy letting a lot of the enslaved folks know,” says Jones. “We’ve been trying to find unique ways to tie Black folks on horses into the experience. It’s the symbolism of freedom and mobility.”

The star of the show on Sunday is the music. This year’s lineup is stacked with talent, both from Memphis and elsewhere in the South. McDonald says the nature of the event helped attract some big names. “The significance of us having this Juneteenth in Orange Mound, being the oldest neighborhood established by emancipated Black folks in the United States, and the funding from that going toward the larger capital campaign efforts for establishing a hub for Black innovation.”

The biggest name performer is neo-soul legend Erykah Badu, who will be doing a set under her DJ name Lo Down Loretta Brown. Memphis hip-hop legend, Three 6 Mafia founder, and secret engine of popular culture innovation Juicy J, whose accomplishments are too numerous to list here, will be on hand to deliver a highly anticipated performance. Also on the bill is New Orleans rapper and record label owner Curren$y, fresh off his 2024 collaboration with Trauma Tone on Highway 600.

Hitkidd (Photo: Kam Darko Visuals)

The official headliner is Memphis’ own Hitkidd. The producer of GloRilla’s song of the summer “F.N.F. (Let’s Go)” and Campsouth Records mastermind is no stranger to the OMT stage. “He was at last year’s Juneteenth, and probably my favorite performance of the night,” says Jones.

“It was epic!” says McDonald. “[Last year] the main stage rained out, so our entire crowd stormed the north warehouse, and it made the second stage turn into the main stage. We had to get barricades up in like 10 minutes. Then we got Hitkidd standing up on top of tables and Slimeroni and three other female artists going HAM. It was the moment.”

The Architects of the Future

One person who attended last year’s Juneteenth festival was Germane Barnes. He’s an associate professor and the director of the Community, Housing & Identity Lab at the University of Miami School of Architecture; a Rome Prize Fellow; and the winner of the 2021 Harvard GSD Wheelwright Prize. He was at the festival at the suggestion of Chicago-based artist, professor, and entrepreneur Theaster Gates, a pedigree which impressed Jones and the Tone board of directors. “His practice is based around building out culturally informed spaces, spaces that have the cultural references that resonate for the people that they’re designed for,” says Jones.

Germane Barnes (Photo: Courtesy Studio Barnes)

The architect was intrigued the moment he saw the tower rising over Lamar. “He walked with me all the way to the top of the tower the first day that he came,” says McDonald. “He stopped and took detailed photographs on every floor. He attended the gala. He hung out with us the whole weekend. Then he leaves, and we don’t hear from him for a couple weeks.”

When Barnes recontacted Tone, he asked permission to use the Orange Mound Tower project in a class he was teaching at Ohio State University. “He’s got these grad students, and he had them do renderings of the tower. So we fly out to Ohio, and we’re looking at these CAD renderings. They’re splitting the tower open like an egg, showing us cross sections. They’re throwing all kinds of different facilities into it, just giving us perspective on what it could turn into. Some of these would be featured in the space where we’re hosting the gala. There’ll be an installation showing the progress of the tower that we’re sharing right now.”

Jones says, “The work we got to do with those students was so important. That’s our first time learning how to give feedback to architects. He’s pushing us, ‘Speak up, do you like this? How do you feel about this?’ … We got a lot of positive feedback from the students as well. Most of their coursework is for projects that don’t even exist in real life, so to know this could affect and touch an actual community was meaningful.”

Orange Mound Tower (Photo: Chris McCoy)

Barnes formally came on board as the architect of record for the Orange Mound Tower project in early 2024, thanks to a grant from the Memphis Music Initiative. “Germane got on that first call with us excited, and that felt good, really affirming that this is a dream project,” says Jones. “He’s never gotten to do a project of this scale, and so for him, this is an opportunity to touch a big project that, as he describes it, would usually be reserved for a 70-year-old white man. Him being able to come in as a young Black guy and flex what he can do, we know he knows that in a space this Black, it’s just gonna be incredible. He’s teamed up with local firms LRK [Looney Ricks Kiss] and APA [Aaron Patrick Architects], and they’re creating an architecture dream team for us.”

While Unapologetic remains an ownership partner, Tone has taken the front seat in development work. The Tower team also includes Brent Hooks, an accomplished project manager with more than a decade’s worth of experience in large-scale urban development and complex project coordination. “His extensive background in civil engineering and construction management ensures the successful delivery of high-quality projects, contributing significantly to the team’s success,” says Jones.

Veteran developers Bill Ganus and Darrell Cobbins serve as development consultants. “They’re just so deeply familiar with the landscape of Memphis, and they’ve really been helping us identify some moving parts. We want such a unique approach to tenancy, and how we’re imagining these kind of communities forming around the art and culture, food and agriculture, small business, and health and wellness. [Darrell] has been encouraging and inspiring as we’re imagining how we can truly build out communities around these concepts, not just getting folks to sign leases, so that they can also participate in imagining what the space could look like.”

With almost $4 million invested in the project’s design phase, and another $7 to $9 million on deck, Jones expects to be ready to move Tone onto the 10-acre site sometime in 2025, along with other tenants who will sign up for space in the massive warehouse that will be rejuvenated in the first phase of the project. “We’ve broken it into digestible chunks to make our fundraising job a bit easier,” says McDonald.

Jones says Tone is trying to build an infrastructure for Black freedom in Memphis, to retain talent, and to attract new people and new innovation to the city. “What does it mean if we’re able to actually build the infrastructure in our image in ways that are more thoughtful, more innovative than the structures that we’ve seen around New York, L.A., even Atlanta? You don’t have to force a fit here. You can actually build it to be what you want it to be. Once that infrastructure is developed, or at least in those beginning phases, we’re inviting folks in. Hey, this platform is here. You ain’t gotta go nowhere. Matter of fact, we need you not to go anywhere! Go see the world, but keep your home here, so we can build this city together.”

Visit tonememphis.org for a full schedule of Tone’s Juneteenth events and for more information.

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Cover Feature News

TONE’s Juneteenth Celebration Weekend

Curved acrylic nails will be paired with Queen Charlotte-approved corsets, poker faces will be tested in a Spades tournament, and thousands will pour over to Orange Mound Tower to celebrate the culmination of Memphis-based art organization TONE’s annual Juneteenth weekend. A B.A.P.S-themed gala and a family reunion bash are the crowning jewels in this festive event honoring Black culture and freedom.

Kelsee Woods dances to a performance by singer-songwriter Talibah Safiya. (Photo: Noah Stewart)
Talibah Safiya (Photo: Noah Stewart)

For Black Joy

According to TONE, Juneteenth is the day that “Black Americans were finally free to be seen as humans, and not objects.”

While many believe the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, marked the end of slavery, the National Museum of African American History and Culture reminds us that it “could not be implemented in places still under Confederate control.” All enslaved people were not considered free until June 19, 1865. On that day, 2,000 Union soldiers arrived in Galveston, Texas, to inform more than 250,000 enslaved people they were free. This holiday is celebrated as the formal end of slavery in America.

When considering the cultural significance of Juneteenth for Black Americans, it’s fitting for TONE to host a celebration here. Victoria Jones, TONE’s executive director, says the organization is dedicated to holding a space for Black people to tell stories through film, visual arts, photography, and more, and it seeks to “heal a city and its trauma around racial injustice and all the things that come with that, but really, truly centering the joy of Black folks in that space and lifting that up through innovation.”

“However Black folks are showing up and telling their stories, we’re really working on capturing them, lifting them up, and putting them on a platform here at TONE,” Jones adds.

The organization has been around for about eight years, originally launched at Crosstown Arts as an initiative to diversify their audience. But once TONE saw the capacity their work had for building community and empowering Black people, they hopped around nomadically. However, Jones says, after having negative experiences at “legacy institutions” and “predominantly white organizations,” they realized they needed a place of their own.

“Realizing that those spaces were never really truly intended for us, even as they are trying to work on extending invitations to Black folks, we thought it would be in our best interest, and necessary for our sustainability, to open up our own space.”

On January 11, 2019, TONE opened the complex known as TONE HQ — at 2234 Lamar Avenue — to more than 2,500 guests from around the city. Since then, the organization has hosted a number of events — film screenings, exhibitions, and concerts — that have become cemented as pieces of Memphis iconography.

“Really any creative outlet that we can create for Black folks,” Jones says, “so we can continue to lift up the stories being told, in and around Memphis, and highlight the artists who are doing the courageous work of telling those stories.”

In 2020, the organization purchased property across the street from where their gallery currently sits. With this addition, they began to imagine how the property could serve as a “beacon of cultural innovation for Black folks,” and how they could center and lift up the work of “creatives and small business entrepreneurs.” TONE recently added an additional three acres to the property, making it 10-acres, where they are envisioning endeavors related to food, agriculture, health and wellness, education, job readiness, art, culture, tech innovation, and more.

The story of TONE itself is representative of the story of being Black in America. It’s a story that only those with lived experiences are qualified to tell. And when these stories are told, recurring themes of perseverance, resilience, and redirecting play prominent roles in planting seeds to honor those before them, and to empower both current and future generations.

Jones explains there is often a separation between the present and slavery, as though it existed “some very, very long time ago,” but that is not the case. She tells the Flyer that her Big Mama (grandmother) was raised by a man who was enslaved as a child. Jones says in her own youth, her understanding of Juneteenth was that it was a community service day. And while she agrees there is merit in choosing that as a way to commemorate the holiday, the day serves as a true reason to celebrate. Juneteenth is a time for Black Americans to celebrate their ancestors — and all there is to look forward to.

“N*ggas is free!” Jones exclaims. “That’s not always been true. Very recently that was not true. So to have the opportunity to give folks night after night of different experiences and touchpoints to just lean in and think about, honor, and celebrate the ancestors that got us here, the generations that it took for us to experience this level of freedom, and the celebration necessary to know that you gotta keep going. Sometimes we just need to be able to touch down, do a little dancing, so we can keep a good fight.”

At the center of Jones’ conversations on Juneteenth is Black joy, and when talking with the Flyer she makes sure the conversation concentrates on the freedom of Black people, as opposed to what they were being freed from.

JuDa Ezell with David Hammons’ African-American Flag (Photo: Kai Ross)
A small group of festival attendees pose for a photo. (Photo: Noah Stewart)

For Culture

TONE’s Juneteenth: A Family Reunion, will host a variety of events from June 15th through 18th. The theme of a family reunion may seem obvious to those whose summers consisted of line dancing while wearing T-shirts adorned with family members’ names linked on a tree — and who know the realness of the “Cousin! What’s Up” gif of late rapper Tupac Shakur. However, to those who have no familiarity with these experiences, it may be less obvious.

“Families were destroyed during slavery,” Jones says. “Folks were stealing children and selling them to people.

“Folks were stealing mommas and selling them to people, stealing daddies and selling them to people, so the tradition of family reunions truly comes out of this desire to find your people, know your people.”

She also says family reunions for most people are an invitation back to the South, where many Black people’s roots are planted, and the decision to promote the celebration as a family reunion is an invitation to bring people together to “celebrate and love on each other for a weekend.”

TONE’s Juneteenth commemorations have been an evolution, with the first event being a Juneteenth Gala in 2019 where they invited Memphis musicians, visual and performing artists, and dancers to help energize the festivities.

The intention has always been to celebrate and showcase Black culture in the most authentic light, and that first TONE Juneteenth celebration was nothing short of that, with Chef Fran Mosley catering a spread of soul food favorites like fried chicken, macaroni-and-cheese, and peach cobbler, which Jones says “leans into what makes our people so special.”

This year’s weekend follows a format launched in 2022, the first year TONE was able to host both a gala and a festival. The weekend kicks off on Thursday, June 15th, with a screening of Robert Townsend’s 1997 film B.A.P.S (Black American Princesses), starring Halle Berry and Natalie Desselle, at Malco Studio on the Square in Midtown at 7 p.m., in collaboration with Indie Memphis.

In keeping the momentum of an authentic family reunion experience, TONE will host a Spades tournament on Friday, June 16th, with a prize of $200, where they’ll use custom-made playing cards. “The Spades tournament is a night for folks to come out and enjoy one of the most sacred card games known to man,” event organizers say. “It is a night for people to converse and convene over good music, food, and drinks. It is a night for all the big and all the bad to come out and claim their seat at the table.”

“If we’re going to have a family reunion, then we gotta have the Spades going,” Jones says.

A festival attendee matches the energy on their shirt. (Photo: Noah Stewart)
Chef Araba Esoun embraces family. (Photo: Noah Stewart)

For Empowerment

For those who can’t seem to get enough of the Black American Princess aesthetic and are privy to the words of Lady Whistledown, the Juneteenth Gala will provide the ultimate experience. The Cadre Building Downtown will take attendees “from the Met Gala to the Mound” with some “ghetto fabulousness” in the mix.

“I haven’t had a number of opportunities to dress up and go to a gala, put on a gown, and all that,” says Jones. “Truly, what other reason than the freedom of my people. You know I gotta step out for that.”

The gala has become a staple in TONE’s Juneteenth weekend, as it was the organization’s inaugural celebratory event in 2019. “It was bursting at the seams then,” says Jones. “That’s how we knew we couldn’t do it here [at the TONE gallery] no more.”

Last year was the first time TONE pushed for a theme for the gala. They went with Afrofuturism, and people showed up in their “futuristic, beautiful, Black garb,” Jones says. This year, with the B.A.P.S theme, they anticipate baby hair galore, grills, and about 1,001 different approaches to corsets.

“If you could imagine a Met Gala with a Memphis twist — and when I say ‘Memphis’ I mean the actual city of Memphis, not the things we pretend it is, but true Memphis sh*t — I think that’s what you can expect.”

While these aesthetics may at times be shunned, Jones says it’s being embraced — and in a royal setting. “The emphasis has truly been on royalty, like Black folks showing up in this space of royalty. A lot of our belief system revolves around the idea that Black folks show up however they show up, and that space is to be honored,” says Jones.

Perhaps the most iconic component of TONE’s Juneteenth celebration is the festival, which was first held in 2021 as a way to celebrate the holiday in the aftermath of the Covid-19 pandemic — a way for TONE to bring the magic of their indoor gala outside.

“I think we hosted over 11 artists, we had the marketplace set up, 90 percent of the vendors sold out, and the ones that didn’t came real close to selling out,” says Jones.

The festival has historically been held at the Orange Mound Tower, which holds special cultural significance for Black Memphians. While the gala has been held at different locations throughout the years, Jones says the festival will always be held in Orange Mound, as the neighborhood was built by the first generation freed from slavery.

“If we’re thinking about the legacy that came out of enslavement, then Orange Mound is literally the most powerful display of perseverance and innovation,” says Jones. “The Black folks that were told they were nothing more than property found a way to build an entire community upon freedom.”

The festival has always promised an outstanding experience (and FOMO potential), and this year will be no different, with headliners Project Pat, Hitkidd, and Duke Deuce and a slate of emerging talent including Talibah Safiya, Austin Crui$e, DJ Nico, Harley Quinn, and more, along with Black-owned food trucks and vendors.

Jones says this is also a moment for TONE to empower Black people economically. “The artists, we pay above what is market rate for the city, probably double for the city of Memphis. The musicians leave with money in their pocket. Our artisans, our makers, are leaving with bread in their pocket, as are the chefs and the caterers that show up with the food trucks. So it’s a beautiful day to celebrate and a beautiful way to make money.”

At its core, TONE’s Juneteenth celebration encapsulates not only the phenomenon of Black joy but also further shines a light on what makes the Black experience so unique and special — characterized by tenacious spirit and dreaming big.

“I can’t think of a single holiday that matters more than the celebration of our freedom, when we talk about Black joy, Black empowerment,” Jones says. “I can’t think of a better opportunity for real.”

For more information on TONE’s Juneteenth: A Family Reunion event (June 15th-18th, various locations), including schedule, lineup, and access to tickets, visit tonejuneteenth.com.

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Opinion The Last Word

Relay Through Generations

The first years of my Big Mama’s life were spent in a home where generations of my ancestors resided. The eldest of whom was enslaved as a child, her great-great-grandfather. They lived on the same land that my people owned and had existed on since her great-great-grandfather was freed from slavery. Big Mama farmed this land with her siblings, cousins, parents, aunts, and uncles. When the time came for her to venture out on her own, she started a family.

My grandfather was a bit of a rolling stone and left my grandmother to support their five children. She took a job at the Procter & Gamble factory in Jackson, Tennessee, and raised my mother and her siblings there. My mother was a basketball star in Jackson and had an opportunity to play ball at Lane College. After graduating, my mother joined the United States Navy to get out of Jackson. While there, she met my father and they started a family. As successful officers in the Navy, they were able to build an upbringing for my sister and me filled with the privileges of financial security, quality education, and support.

Now my sister and I have been handed a baton, and for the first time in my lineage, since my people arrived in this country shackled and enslaved, we have been given an opportunity to ask ourselves who we want to be and what we want to do. Due to the perseverance and strength of the generations who came before us, my sister and I have been allowed to move outside of what we must do and granted the freedom to imagine, to dream, and to construct lives built on what we want to do. Our collective freedom in this country has been a relay race — every generation compelling us forward toward liberation, carving their own mark into the baton.

We go up for Juneteenth as an opportunity to celebrate the perseverance of our people participating in this relay. It gives us a concentrated moment to lift up our ancestors and celebrate the endurance, the love, and the brilliance displayed during their legs of the race through enslavement, Jim Crow, redlining, voter suppression, lynching, and the prison industrial complex. We lift up the miracle of the Black folks who came before us who found ways to keep dreaming and pushing against all odds, the magic of Black folks who found song and dance despite the violence and persecution this country assigned to them. We lift up the innovation of our ancestors who gave room for our culture while the rest of the country was still debating our humanity. We marvel at the marks that they left on the baton. It takes us out of a vacuum and puts our work in direct conversation with the giants whose shoulders we sit upon. I can think of no celebration greater or more powerful than the one I can share with my ancestors and elders. It’s our moment to watch the race as it comes to us. It’s our running start when we are timing our step with the runner before us and preparing to take off with the baton.

Now we have the baton and it’s time to run like all hell. It’s our moment to push this as far as we can. Our chance to decide what mark we want to leave on the baton. Our chance to figure out how far we can propel our people today. This is our chance to celebrate the innovation and the stamina of today. We get to dream and imagine in this moment and celebrate the potential of the future we will build. With the legacy of our ancestors still powering our step forward, we get to boost off like Sha’Carri. The beauty of this relay is that it’s very much about how you perform, how you show up, and at the same exact time it is about all of us, how our entire team is running and has run. It’s our chance to celebrate getting in step with one another.

At some point in our sprint we’ll catch a glimpse of the next leg. They’ll be timing their step with us the same way we timed ours with our elders. With the same vigor and passion that we ran, we will be tasked with handing that baton off. Timing this hand-off correctly will be a determining factor of all of our journey toward liberation. This means that there will be a chance for us to hang up our armor and rest. We are not running this alone on the front or back end, and we must trust those running ahead to make their own mark on the baton. The exhaustion my team at TONE and I have faced makes the promise of rest worthy of celebration. Our young folks need to know that when it’s time to hand that baton off, it will be done in cheer and in celebration. So we go up for the babies watching too.

Juneteenth is not some fixed day in our past; it’s not a freedom finish line. Instead it is a celebration of the race and of the runners. It is an opportunity to build an altar around this centuries-old baton, a chance to dance and to cheer and to celebrate just how far we’ve come. A chance to celebrate the victories and triumphs of today. A chance to celebrate the next leg so that they will be ready when the time comes to hand it off. Juneteenth gives us this opportunity to celebrate the liberation of Black folks in this country like no other day. We owe it to our ancestors, to ourselves, and to our future generations to celebrate and experience joy like our liberation depends on it.

Victoria Jones is the founder and executive director of TONE, and the co-founder and president of Orange Mound Tower.

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Juneteenth Family Reunion Festival at Orange Mound Tower

Last summer, President Joe Biden declared Juneteenth a federal holiday, making it the first holiday to be approved since Martin Luther King Jr. Day was established in 1983. In honor of this year’s Juneteenth, a relatively under-celebrated and under-appreciated holiday, TONE is hosting a weekend celebration, complete with a Saturday night gala and a Sunday festival.

This will be the first time TONE will host these events in conjunction with each other. Kai Ross, a visual artist and marketing manager at TONE, explains that the first (and only, so far) gala was held in 2019. “A gala was always supposed to be the plan,” they say, but due to Covid, TONE wasn’t ready to bring it back until now.

This year’s gala at Beale Street Landing is Afrofuturism-themed, with a request for attendees to wear Afrofuturistic attire. “Come dressed in your best black-tie but put it in like 2060,” Ross says. “One thing about Juneteenth is acknowledging the past to look forward. So we kind of went with a sankofa concept.”

2021 performer Dame Mufasa (Photo: Courtesy TONE)

The gala will feature a keynote speech by artist and TONE board member Derek Fordjour, in addition to a reading by Afrofuturist author Sheree Renée Thomas. Chef Eli Townsend of Sage will cater, and an after-party on the Mississippi Queen Riverboat III will follow. Tickets have been sold out, but if you couldn’t get your hands on a gala or after-party ticket, worry not: The second annual Juneteenth Family Reunion Festival is free and open to the public.

In lieu of a gala in 2021, TONE threw its first festival on the 10 acres surrounding the Orange Mound Tower, the site of the community-focused development project led by TONE founder Victoria Jones and Unapologetic founder James Dukes, aka IMAKEMADBEATS. “We knew we had to do something outside and that was Covid-safe,” Ross says. “We started to think about the fact that a lot of us — even just staff — hadn’t seen each other in so long. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year. And we were like, ‘This is about to be a family reunion.’”

And the family-reunion theme stuck. “It was a very beautiful experience,” they say. “It’s very important to do this celebration in the first Black neighborhood in this country. Just to do it on those grounds is always a special moment when we think about it.”

This year’s festival will include food trucks, vendors, games, and live music. The packed set list, headlined by rapper and Memphis native Duke Deuce, includes the Memphis Youth Arts Initiative Drumline, Mante Carlo, Bodywerk, Talibah Safiya, Texas Warehouse, Hitkidd, and Lukah. For more information, visit tonememphis.org and keep up with TONE’s socials, @tonememphis901 on Facebook and @tonememphis on Instagram.

Juneteenth Family Reunion Festival, Orange Mound Tower, Sunday, June 19th, 5 p.m.-11 p.m., Free.

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News News Blog News Feature

Persevering Almost Killed One of Memphis’ Most Prominent Artists: She Doesn’t Want You to Make the Same Mistake

A year ago, the Black artist and nonprofit leader Victoria Jones captured the city’s attention with her plans for a $50+ million development meant to bring hope, revitalization and wealth to a long-disinvested Black neighborhood. 

She and her partners said they would transform a vacant Lamar Avenue tower into apartments, office space and retail. The Orange Mound project earned her a “Memphian of the Year” honor from Memphis magazine and The New York Times published a glowing write-up of the development. But with the attention came a massive amount of anxiety and fear of failure. At times last winter, she considered killing herself. 

With the help of friends, sobriety and therapy, Jones is now in a healthier mental place. The fear isn’t gone, but she’s handling it better. She’s realized it will be okay if she fails. And now, she wants to pass along what she’s learned.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Find mental health resources for people of color here and additional resources here. — Jacob Steimer

Victoria Jones: I gotta talk about this out loud so I’m not pretending to be impenetrable.

In the production of perseverance and strength, I’ve tried to act like hurting and fear don’t exist in this journey. And that isn’t serving anybody. I’ve leaned into and leaned on the Black Girl Magic thing. I’ve romanticized struggle because it made some of the painful moments make more sense.

But I needed permission to not be strong and not persevere and just fall apart. If I had tried to just persevere, I’d still be in a really bad place. I want folks — especially Black women — to have permission to just fall apart.

Growing up, my folks were in the military, so we moved every other year. The one thing that was consistent my entire life was my family.

In mid-May of last year, my parents moved, and then my sister moved and then my little brother. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t hop in my car and go see my momma.

Then in late May, we changed [our nonprofit’s name] from The CLTV to Tone and announced the tower project.


What’s the latest on the tower?

Jones and the rest of the development team have made significant progress since announcing the project a year ago. A development team is in place, and initial designs and financial models are completed. Now comes refining those designs and projections, getting companies and nonprofits to commit to the project, and raising more money from philanthropists. The team still intends to start construction by the end of 2023. A new goal of Jones’ is to make sure the project provides mental health services to the surrounding community. 


There was an intense anxiety around like, “Will people receive this?”

When the first story, by Elle Perry, hit and it was loved on and shared and re-shared, there was some intense excitement for, like, three days. Everybody pulled their cars into one of the warehouses; music was going; we were really celebrating.

But a couple articles later, it started getting scary. We were encouraging people to hope for this tower but then there’s this immense pressure to make it happen.

After, like, four years of sobriety, I started drinking, convincing myself it was celebratory drinking.

As that excitement begins to fade and anxiety continues to grow, it becomes a lot easier to rely on drinking in a completely different way.

Anxiety is just a constant state of being for me at this point. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I came out of college. And so I’m just riding that anxiety like it’s a normal thing. But then The New York Times article came out in November, and it was strictly anxiety, no excitement, no joy.

I was visiting my parents in Florida. My mom and sister and I were riding around this little suburb outside of Orlando for an hour and a half, looking for copies of The New York Times.

It’s late, and we’re tired, and I’m like, “Why aren’t you celebrating me?!”

They were celebrating me, but they couldn’t feel it enough for me to feel it. 

While I was in Florida, I was sober. Then I got home, and between Christmas and Thanksgiving, I had these tough few weeks. It’s dark, and it’s cold, and I’m drinking every day. And it’s just, like, all the things. 

Credit: Gabrielle Brooks for MLK50

Dealing with bipolar disorder, it’s always on my back. And I know there are these routines and practices I can invest in that will keep it in the rearview. I watched it get closer, closer, and closer. Then when the sun literally stopped coming out, it caught me completely and took a really, really, really good grasp on me.

I tell myself these things, when it is a bit rockier, about my worthiness or lack thereof: I have to do certain things to get love or to be worthy of relationship and community. I didn’t have many, if any, relationships that existed completely outside of work. All my closest friends work here at Tone. So — as far as it was from the truth — it was easy to convince myself that nobody loved me just because they wanted to.

One evening, there was a program here at the Tone gallery, and I had been drinking. And I remember walking in and thinking to myself, “If I die, it would not be me that they mourn, it’d be this project.” And I remember being devastated by that.

I was angry at everybody because I had convinced myself that the only way I’m worthy of love is if I can do really great work and be the strongest and be the toughest.

Credit: Gabrielle Brooks for MLK50

And it’s not because people don’t love me — my brain and I are coming up with fantastical narratives. Everything about my body chemistry is like, “You are alone, and this shit sucks.”

There were day-to-day contemplations about suicide. 

I was like, “I don’t know how to get out of this; I have no idea how to shake this.”

When I am drinking, the bottom is taken out. I can get mood swings if I’m sober, and depression still exists. But there’s a bottom.

When I’m drinking, I can fall forever.

And what’s becoming more clear is drinking is also a self-sabotage mechanism for me. 

I used to play basketball when I was younger, and I’m competitive to my core. One time, we were about to have to race different teammates. I remember pretending that I was hurt because the person I was up against might win. I was like, “I’m not running a race if I don’t know if I’m gonna win.”

For the first time in my career, I had come upon a goal that I believed I could do but I don’t know I can. It was terrifying.

The worst day came right after I moved houses that winter and was on the tail end of all the stress that comes from moving. I had told myself I was done drinking. But I had had a shit day; I was feeling miserable because I was drunk and lonely and felt like I had crumbled into the smallest version of myself.

My assistant director at Tone, who’s also my closest friend, who I thought I had pushed away, showed up.

I’m laying down in my bed and I got a call, and he’s like “I’m outside.” It was like, “Oh wait. So I’m not by myself?”  

Credit: Gabrielle Brooks for MLK50

That was the worst night, but it also led to hope.

From there, my therapist was like, you need to make some friends. She said, “Low hanging fruit: Who wants to hang out? Hit them up and go hang out.”

Historic Clayborn Temple executive director Anasa Troutman has pulled other Black women into a community. And I was not being asked to do anything to be part of it. I was not being asked to be smart or thoughtful — just to be there, to watch a movie or eat food or crack jokes.

I felt like — for the first time in a long time — I was being given permission to just be human.

I started trusting them to support me when bad things happen. 

These women tell me often that I don’t have to do anything for them to love me. It used to be so hard for me to hear the phrase “if the project doesn’t work …,” but letting them speak that and follow it up with “we will love you,” was a lot. They’re going to be here either way, and I am allowed to fail.

I can fail and still be worthy of love.

Credit: Gabrielle Brooks for MLK50

The national helpline for individuals facing substance use disorders is 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

And now I’m not drinking. But I had to care about what happened to me to stop drinking. When you’re around people who are telling you you’re worthy of love and who are actively loving on you, it’s easier to be like, “Maybe I should be nice to myself.”

I don’t think we’re supposed to be as individualistic as we are. I sometimes feel the desire to be this “self-made,” “independent” woman, but that would require me to be alone, and that shit is for the birds.

Jacob Steimer is a corps member with Report for America, a national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms. Email him at Jacob.Steimer@mlk50.com

This story is brought to you by MLK50: Justice Through Journalism, a nonprofit newsroom focused on poverty, power and policy in Memphis. Support independent journalism by making a tax-deductible donation today. MLK50 is also supported by these generous donors.

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Cover Feature News

Black Arts Rising: A New Generation of Arts Organizations is Poised to Transform Memphis

Memphis is a city of innovation — from rock-and-roll to self-service grocery stores, FedEx to Gebre Waddell’s Sound Credit software, that fact is undeniable. It’s also a city known for Black arts, in myriad forms. Now, three local Black-led organizations adept at marrying art and innovation, BLP Film Studios, Tone, and Unapologetic, aim to make Memphis a beacon in the South. In doing so, they’re making the city a better place.

The Road to Whitehaven

Jason Farmer’s journey to arts entrepreneur started simply enough. In 2008, he took his son Jason II to see the first current-era Marvel movie, Iron Man. “He started saying, ‘I want to be a filmmaker,’” recalls Farmer. “As a parent, you think that’s going to be a quickly passing thing, but he stuck to it. He started to make little sets at the house. We bought him a camera, and he started to film his sister acting out roles.”

Farmer decided he needed to figure out how to support his son’s ambitions, but since his background is in military and law enforcement, he knew nothing about the movie business — or even where to begin. “I posted on social media that I needed someone to reach out to me who may be in a film space, and a friend, who I hadn’t seen in a number of years, reached out to ask what it was that I needed. I told her what my dilemma was, and she started to send me out to various independent film projects, to various agencies and film festivals. And that’s what started the journey.”

Jason II’s passion for filmmaking inspired his father Jason Farmer to start BLP Film Studios. (Photo: Courtesy KQ Communications)

Now, Jason II is a film student at Morehouse College, and Farmer is spearheading BLP, an ambitious project to create one of the largest film production facilities in the South right here in Memphis.

Farmer is not the first person to try to kickstart a homegrown film and television industry here. In 1929, one of the earliest sound films in history was filmed in Memphis. Director King Vidor’s Hallelujah was a musical with an all-Black cast, which introduced many people to authentic gospel and blues. Modern filmmaking in Memphis can be traced back to the establishment of University of Memphis’ film department and the creation of Marius Penczner’s 1982 monster noir, I Was a Zombie for the F.B.I. In 1989, Jim Jarmusch’s Mystery Train, filmed entirely in the then-moribund South Main neighborhood, became a seminal work in the independent film movement. That inspired some Memphians to see the city through Jarmusch’s eyes as a shabby chic nexus of popular culture waiting to be rediscovered. In the 1990s, homegrown auteur Mike McCarthy made three psychotronic films by the skin of his teeth. Meanwhile, the city played host to its first major Hollywood productions in decades: the John Grisham adaptations, The Firm and The Rainmaker, and Milos Forman’s The People vs. Larry Flynt. In 2000, an upstart-film festival called Indie Memphis found its first star in Craig Brewer, who gained attention in Hollywood with the pioneering digital film The Poor & Hungry and then fought for four years to produce Hustle & Flow in his adopted hometown. The aughts brought more big productions, such as the Oscar-winningWalk the Line and 21 Grams.

But after the 2008 financial crisis, things changed. Hollywood productions became much more reliant on state-level tax incentives; in the South, Georgia and Louisiana offered more generous deals than Tennessee. In 2010, Brewer’s remake of Footloose, which was originally written to be set in rural West Tennessee, was lured away to Georgia. The nascent Memphis film industry essentially collapsed, as experienced crew members departed for the greener pastures of Atlanta. Local filmmakers continued the indie tradition of creating daring works on shoestring budgets, but the city would not host another major production until 2019, when NBC filmed the TV series Bluff City Law here.

That’s the environment Farmer found himself working in — and trying to change. “I’m not a creative,” says Farmer. “I started to look at it from a business aspect. What was the business case for the Memphis film industry — or lack thereof? What were those challenges?”

One big problem has always been a lack of adequate facilities. “For 30 years now, major productions in Memphis have always been able to ‘make do’ with such existing spaces as warehouses and factories — or various other empty spaces that fit the specifications for a soundstage space,” says Memphis and Shelby County Film and Television Commissioner Linn Sitler. “The minimum specifications have always been the same: 28-foot to 30-foot-tall ceilings, clear span, no windows, and non-metal roofs. Our clients look for a space that would also provide an overall quiet outside environment with lots of parking and nearby offices.”

The lack of suitable soundstages was almost a deal breaker for Bluff City Law, Sitler says. “Only at the last possible moment was a former skating rink located, which did meet the minimum soundstage requirements. The offices were still miles away. The traffic noise of Summer Avenue was right outside, but it was the best we could offer.”

The Atlanta area, by contrast, offers producers several full-service production facilities, including Trilith Studios, where much of the Marvel Cinematic Universe is produced, and the homegrown Tyler Perry Studios. “I spent really a lot of time doing background research on these other places,” Farmer says. “What emerged from that was, without challenges here in Memphis and in Tennessee, we had an opportunity to carve out a niche space that had really not been explored. We really needed to look at it as creating infrastructure and the supporting ecosystem that it takes to support projects. We want to go after the industry, as opposed to going after one-off projects.”

Farmer says his research suggested that the situation was far from hopeless. “We came up with a model that allowed us to use our natural asset, which is the great cultural history here. … At the same time, there were some things that were starting to happen with the industry trying to be more attentive to marketing to Black and brown audiences.”

For decades, Black productions were a hard sell in Hollywood. Conventional wisdom in the white-dominated boardrooms was that white people would not see Black films, and that African-American casts could not sell a picture in vital overseas markets like China. This thinking willfully ignored counter-examples, like the immensely successful films of Tyler Perry. Recent breakthroughs, such as the success of 2016 Best Picture winner Moonlight and Jordan Peele’s Get Out, have exposed conventional wisdom about race in Hollywood as myth. Earlier this year, Craig Brewer’s Coming 2 America, which features an all-Black cast led by Eddie Murphy, became Amazon Studios’ biggest hit ever, driven by huge international interest, particularly in Africa. Black films, Farmer says, are good business. “There have been a number of studies that have supported the argument, most recently the McKinsey & Company study that said the industry is leaving about $10 billion a year in potential revenue on the table by not backing productions that are reflective of the communities we live in.”

It’s not enough to just market to BIPOC audiences. Hallelujah might have been a groundbreaking Black musical, but since King Vidor was a caucasian raised in Jim Crow Texas, it is also rife with harmful stereotypes. Many big content producers are now actively recruiting Black producers and directors to create stories that better reflect the community. “With Memphis positioned as the largest suburban minority population in the country, it makes it easy for us here,” Farmer says. “We’re trying to help them answer questions around DEI — Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion — and we can do it in an organic manner here in Memphis because of the community makeup.”

BLP Film Studios seeks to close Memphis’ infrastructure gap by creating a sprawling film and television production campus in Farmer’s native Whitehaven. Located just west of Highway 51 near the Mississippi border, BLP Studios will feature 12 soundstages and assorted support and administrative facilities. Farmer says the area meets the criteria of available land and easy access to air and ground transportation. “I knew that Whitehaven had a lot of untapped potential,” he says. “There were just a lot of things that, from a business standpoint, when you looked at creating a platform to attract people from around the world, made Whitehaven the obvious choice. And I had great confidence because I come from that community. Whitehaven embraces its children, so to speak.”

Orange Mound Tower as seen from below (Photo: Chris McCoy)

Orange Mound Tower Rises

Vacant for two decades, the United Equipment building is an Orange Mound landmark. From the front door of Tone’s gallery space, Victoria Jones can see the former feed mill towering over Lamar Avenue.

Jones, whose first job out of college was with Crosstown Arts, founded Tone in 2015 as The CLTV. “My goal originally was just, how do I get more Black artists into Crosstown?” she says. “But we had an opportunity to see through programming how needed it was for the rest of the city and for artists.”

Jones says Black artists have never had the freedom to create like their white counterparts, immersed in the privileged high-art world. “What does it mean for Black artists to have a touch point, to do some experimenting, to get creative outside of this kind of white space? A lot of times, when we get new spaces, we have to toe the line of perfection for fear of losing access to the space. What happens when we carve out a space where Black folks can show up authentically and fully themselves in that experimentation? We got to see that start to happen as we were doing programming at Crosstown. It just became really important to us to dig in somewhere, create a home, and build a foundation, so that artists have this touch point consistently.”

Victoria Jones of Tone (Photo courtesy Tone)

Jones’ nascent organization signed a lease on a former retail space at 2234 Lamar, where they could stretch out and mount new and daring shows and performances by Black artists. But Jones says their eyes were always on the future. “We weren’t the first for Black artists, but the lack of sustainability has caused every generation to have to start over. So we have been thinking since we started for real about what it means to sustain. What does it mean to hand this baton off to the next generation of artists? And so for us that came with property, having access to consistent space. What would that mean for generations of artists, creatives, entrepreneurs?”

The arc of urban gentrification goes something like this: Artists looking for cheap studio space move into blighted neighborhoods where they can create art, mount shows, and host events without getting the cops called on them for disturbing the peace. People who would normally avoid such places attend the events, have fun, and get used to the neighborhood. Landlords see the renewed activity in properties they had long ago given up on and encourage more artists and associated businesses to move in. Then, when a critical mass of activity is reached, they raise the rents, which makes the area unaffordable to the very people who put in the work to make it attractive again. Artists are evicted in favor of more well-heeled businesses looking to burnish their brands among young people flocking to the hip neighborhood. The poor people who lived there all along are also evicted as collatoral damage to the landlords’ rising fortunes.

IMAKEMADBEATS (Photo: Tae Nichol)

Unapologetic founder IMAKEMADBEATS says the only way to break the cycle is for the creatives to become owners, not tenants. When he tells people he grew up poor in Orange Mound, “People look at me like I survived Baghdad or something. We didn’t think anybody was fighting for us or fighting for change. Nobody cared. We were just the selected ones to go through it, the 6 percent to 8 percent that’s got to go through poverty.”

As Unapologetic’s fortunes increased, IMAKEMADBEATS says finding a permanent home in Orange Mound became an urgent priority. “Whether it was to fulfill our ideas as founding partners or to protect the neighborhood or doing our part to help establish wealth and sustainability for the community to be able to buy into, there’s so many reasons to take the longer, harder route of ownership and doing what’s necessary to become developers.”

With the successful Crosstown Concourse model as a guide, Tone and Unapologetic set out to buy the Lamar-Airways Shopping Center, where Tone’s gallery is located, but the deal fell apart at the last minute. Then Jones looked out the window and saw Orange Mound Tower. “I think as soon as we really started considering the tower as a viable option, it became the best option. It’s obviously way more work, but we can start from scratch and build a state-of-the-art campus for Black innovation, Black artists, Black culture, and Black businesses.”

With the vital assistance of Historic Clayborn Temple Executive Director Anasa Troutman, Tone and Unapologetic secured a grant from The Kataly Foundation in Lancaster, California. “She brought those funders to Memphis to introduce them to other organizations,” recalls Jones. “On their trip, they stopped by the gallery. We didn’t even go on-site. They just looked at [the tower] from the gallery, and we told them what it would mean to Black creatives, what it would mean to this community, what it would mean to Memphis as a whole. They are so dedicated to empowering grassroots, community-led organizations, as opposed to paying somebody from outside the community to come fix or save it. They empowered us to purchase the building, with the catch that we find a local match.”

The Kataly grant encouraged local donors and investors who were on the fence to join the project. “It set us up to get a funder that we had kind of warmed up, but couldn’t get them fully commit,” says Jones. “They saw someone else believe in us. It’s the domino effect that can happen with matches.”

The Orange Mound Tower development will include ample residential and commercial space, as well as a massive performance venue and incubator facilities for nascent entrepreneurs. Unapologetic will occupy a three-story office and recording-studio space.

The prospect of refurbishing such a huge space for creative reuse is daunting, but Jones says they have had nothing but encouragement from the community. “We got a chance to watch Crosstown work through some of that. Todd Richardson offered up the advice to pilot as much of it over here as we can before we move across the street. I’m talking about Memphis becoming the cultural beacon of the South. We’re actively putting those pieces in place now.”

Unapologetic and Tone celebrated the purchase with a massive Juneteenth celebration that attracted thousands to the first of what will be many concerts on the grounds of Orange Mound Tower. “If our success is any indication, every time we open our doors, people come,” says Jones. “These folks have been wanting a place to go. Our folks have been needing a home, and so to be able to offer up a home that we actually own is going to truly change the city.”

She also sees this as an opportunity to encourage more grassroots activism and local Black ownership. “Memphis is too big and too Black for us only to be one, so every move where we can kind of stretch out some and offer up space to even more folks, we’ll take it. Then just watch what happens.

“It’s going to transform the city, I believe.”

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Music Music Features

New African-American Art Space Opens in Orange Mound

Last Saturday, an unprecedented assembly of African-American artists gathered in Orange Mound. It was ostensibly for a photo shoot organized by the nonprofit known as the Collective, but it was obvious, as dozens of local black creatives socialized and networked all morning, that much more was going on. “It’s the first time so many of Memphis’ black artists have come together all at once,” said Collective program director Lawrence Matthews. “This represents millions of dollars worth of talent.”

In a sense, it was the unofficial grand opening of the nonprofit’s new space, the CMPLX, next to the Orange Mound Gallery (OMG) in an unassuming strip mall at Park and Airways. The official event takes place this Friday evening, with an impressive lineup of visual artists, musicians, and others. But on this crisp Saturday morning, the collection of talent showed how the Collective, aka the CLTV, represents a movement that goes far beyond its nominal membership. As Matthews explained, “We don’t want to just make it about black visual artists and black musicians, but black dancers, black writers, black filmmakers. Even black thinkers. If you’re an individual that loves creativity, you have a place and a safe space with us, to get paid and to create things.”

After working for four years without a headquarters, executive director Victoria Jones emphasizes the importance of having the CMPLX. “How do we create really strong black artists? Create space for them to actually exist. We’ll also promote professional and creative development opportunities, host critiques, round tables, and sharing work with peers.” She adds that the CLTV will also guide artists’ careers. “We’ve got funding from the Tennessee Arts Commission and ArtsMemphis to put together a professional development series, once we open the space. We’ll be talking about the business side of being an artist.”

Ziggy Mack

Rapper Great Dame throws down at the CLTV photo shoot

A dedicated space will improve the CLTV’s business as well. While institutions like Crosstown Arts or the Brooks Museum of Art have hosted their events, Jones points out that they have been the most poorly attended. In contrast, the opening of last summer’s “Thug” exhibit at the OMG was packed. Says Matthews of being hosted by other organizations, “It’s like, why should I come to this space? If I’m in Hickory Hill or whatever, why should I come to this space, which charges me whatever to come in here, and I get followed around? We spent a year trying to cultivate those relationships. At the end of it, I don’t know how much we took away from it, besides, okay, we should do this on our own.”

Friday’s grand opening will bring in a wealth of talent, including performances by NuJas, Erlee, Magnolia, AWFM, Cameron Bethany, Don Lifted, Ricky Davaine, Rudy Rhymer, and Cities Aviv, not to mention works by over a dozen visual artists. It foreshadows the relaunch of the CLTV’s monthly Decibel concert series in February, not to mention other, smaller performances in the large studio room in the back. “It’ll almost be like a Tiny Desk show,” says Jones, “because this room will indeed be used as an art studio. We won’t make people move their artwork. But we’ll have a photo backdrop so musicians’ whole setup will fit neatly into that.”

Jones hopes such events will attract other collectives to the area. “I don’t think it stops with us. We have partnered with other black arts organizations, like Unapologetic. Folks are ready to invest. We’re just the first domino.” And, she adds, the CLTV’s relationship with the neighborhood is reciprocal. “Orange Mound is already a very energized space. We’re just trying to find ways we can exist within that.” From the looks of it, the CLTV is in Orange Mound to stay.

The CMPLX grand opening takes place Friday, January 11th, 6:30-9:30 p.m., 2234 Lamar.