Bringing down the house : Amiri Baraka’s 1964 play The Slave takes place during a race war and ends with a deadly house collapse. As final as that sounds, local playwright and vocalist Ti Ames (right) continues the story: See About the Girls is set 14 years later, and imagines that Walker Vessel’s biracial daughters survived the house collapse. Now young adults living in the aftermath of the war, they grapple with their father’s past, as the world around them once again begins to crack at its foundation.
Andrea Douglas, executive director of the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center, thinks Juneteenth should be a national holiday. PC: Eze Amos
Since press time, Governor Ralph Northam has proposed legislation to make Juneteenth a paid state holiday. If it passes, all state employees would get the day off.
With additional reporting by Erin O’Hare
Every July 4, people across the country don their red, white, and blue; pull out their grills; and watch fireworks with family and friends, in celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. But there is another independence day that’s often overlooked: Juneteenth.
Also known as Freedom Day or Jubilee Day, Juneteenth commemorates the day—June 19, 1865—that Union General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas, to inform enslaved people there that the Emancipation Proclamation had freed them, and the Civil War was over. Though President Abraham Lincoln signed the document two and a half years earlier, slave owners had to free their slaves themselves, and some did not until Union troops forced them to. Union troops in Texas, the most remote slave state, were not strong enough to enforce the order until Granger’s arrival—marking an effective end to slavery in the United States.
This year marks the 20th anniversary of Charlottesville’s first known public Juneteenth celebration, which was held in a recreation center on Ninth Street, and hosted by Tamyra Turner, a professor at Piedmont Virginia Community College, and Maxine Holland.
PVCC hosted Juneteenth celebrations for 15 years, but in 2016, in an effort to boost waning attendance, the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center took over, and brought the events to a more central location in town.
Bringing the holiday to downtown Charlottesville “has really revitalized it,” with attendance in the hundreds year after year, says the school’s Executive Director Andrea Douglas.
For the past few years, the JSAAHC’s Juneteenth party has included a ceremony honoring black community elders, music and dance from black artists, and educational programming. Douglas hoped to have a parade this year as well. But due to the COVID-19 pandemic, there won’t be “the kinds of events that we have had in the past,” says Douglas, who refused to “waste this anniversary.”
The Emancipation Proclamation was informed by the ideas of black people, especially Frederick Douglass. PC: File photo
Friday evening, in lieu of its in-person celebrations, the JSAAHC will host an online lecture centered around the Emancipation Proclamation. Holland, with assistance from C.R. Gibbs, Richelle Claiborne, and Ti Ames, will explore the document and the history of Juneteenth, as well as its various components and deeper meaning.
“We had always wanted to focus on the Emancipation Proclamation, because [it] is such an important document,” says Douglas. “In some ways, we think about it as Lincoln’s document, but it was a document that was worked on, and informed, by the ideas of black people—Frederick Douglass in particular.”
And in light of the ongoing protests demanding an end to police brutality and justice for the murders of black people across the country, Douglas says there will be opportunity to discuss “the nuances of what it means to be free,” including the conceptof freedom for black people in America today, and how, in many ways, they are still fighting for it.
Historian Hari Jones, former assistant director and curator at the African American Civil War Freedom Foundation and Museum, will also give a video presentation that dives into the history of Juneteenth and how the Lost Cause myth has impacted how it’s celebrated today.
Though Juneteenth at the JSAAHC will look a bit different this year, the spirit remains the same. And Douglas and others will continue to advocate for Juneteenth to become a national holiday.
Douglas wonders why, as a country, we celebrate July 4, one of the first big moments in American history, but we skip over Juneteenth, the “next main event.” It’s “the very thing that suggests that America made a huge shift…the shift that says that the confederacy, the secession, the papers of secession, those states that seceded, now lost the war,” she says.
While Charlottesville has taken steps towards acknowledging its troubled past by creating Liberation and Freedom Day, the U.S. cannot “fully engage in the truth of our history” until it officially recognizes Juneteenth, she adds. “It should be equally a national holiday as July 4—because it’s the same thing. It’s just how you want to see it.”
Ivan Orr (pictured) and Ti Ames play The Front Porch's Save the Music series Tuesday, May 19. Photo by Sanjay Suchak
Saved by song: If anyone can Save the Music, it’s Ti Ames and Ivan Orr (pictured). Powerful vocalist Ames, well-known for their thespian talents (writer, director, and the first black actor to win the English-Speaking Union National Shakespeare Competition in 2012), is accompanied by pianist, vocalist, and saxophonist Orr, for an evening of song that would stand out in even the busiest of concert seasons. Proceeds from Save the Music will benefit the United Way of Greater Charlottesville and its COVID-19 Emergency Response Fund.
The Live Arts Teen Theater Ensemble brings love and light to its production of Rent, on stage through July 28. Photo by Martyn Kyle
Before every rehearsal and every performance, the cast and crew stand in a circle. They hold hands, close their eyes, inhale deeply, and exhale fully. “I am light,” they say. “I am love. I am here. I am light. I am love. I am here.” They repeat it over and over, until everyone feels ready to take the stage in the Live Arts Teen Theater Ensemble’s production of Rent.
That affirmation is intended to keep the cast and crew grounded and present, moving them forward into a richly emotional performance with energy and positivity “so that they can accomplish what they need to accomplish,” says director Ti Ames. And with this particular production of Rent, there is much to accomplish.
Rent is one of the most successful pieces of American musical theater to date. With music, lyrics, and book written by Jonathan Larson, the play was first produced in 1994, and in 1996 began a 12-year Broadway run. The musical (often classified a “rock opera”) nabbed four Tony Awards and a Pulitzer Prize, and in 2005 was made into a feature film.
Even if you haven’t seen Rent, chances are you’ve heard someone, somewhere, singing “Seasons of Love” (and had it stuck in your head for the rest of the day). But for those who are unfamiliar with the musical, Rent is about a group of bohemian friends living in Manhattan’s East Village at the start of the 1990s, during the HIV/AIDS crisis.
Cast member Greyson Taylor has heard arguments that, 25 years after its debut, “Rent is dying, or that Rent isn’t important anymore,” that the stereotypes of the LGBTQ+ community the musical explores are no longer accurate, or that the HIV/AIDS crisis is behind us, or that the tale of bohemians trying to make art and pay their rent in a gentrifying Alphabet City is a tired one. But the arguments for Rent’s irrelevance are misguided says Taylor, because, at its core, “Rent is about love. And Rent’s about family,” two universal and eternal aspects of the human experience.
None of the adolescent cast, nor its 24-year-old director, were born when Rent first hit the stage. Yet, in the musical, they’ve found a place to tell their own stories, of many backgrounds, races (actors of color make up more than half of the cast), genders, and sexualities, all experiencing the ups and downs of life together.
Director Ti Ames, who at 24 is not much older than the cast, grew up doing theater at Live Arts. This is the first production Ames has directed at the theater. Photo by Martyn Kyle
A production like Rent “can fall into the trap of being presented in the same way over and over again,” notes Taylor, but “when someone like Ti steps in and creates a completely new way to tell the story, it’s a whole lot easier for people to stop and listen.”
Ames’ artistic choices make this production unique. At the start of the play, the book dictates that “two thugs” should chase after the character of Tom Collins, and in this production the “two thugs” are two white cops. The character of Angel Dumott Schunard (Taylor’s role), typically staged as a drag queen, is here gender fluid.
Ames has actor Camden Luck playing the famously problematic Maureen Johnson as a TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminist) who inappropriately touches the afro of her girlfriend, Joanne Jefferson—something that happens to Mo Jackson, the actor playing Joanne, all the time in real life.
In this production, the characters of Mark Cohen (played by Jakobh McHone) and Roger Davis (played by Thad Lane), dap whenever they see one another, an intentionally chosen gesture that Ames hopes will help normalize platonic affection between two young black men. And April, Roger’s dead girlfriend usually only mentioned by name, is instead an on-stage character whose actions are unexpectedly (at least, to Roger) mirrored by another character.
Ames incorporates Africana elements, such as call-and-response, constant breaking of the fourth wall, and the presence of ancestral spirits. This has been particularly interesting for Taylor, because for his character, Angel, it means that when (spoiler alert) Angel dies, Angel isn’t really gone. “She’s still just as much a part of everyone’s lives,” continuing to help them believe in love, he says. “That’s probably what hit me the most.”
“I am so proud of these kids,” says Ames, who has been constantly moved by the ways in which the actors have plumbed their own emotional depths to bring the characters to life in a way that forces close examination of both difficult issues like racism, homophobia, and loss, as well as joyous experiences like friendship, falling in love, and sharing a first kiss. They’ve taken risks, they’ve pushed themselves. They build each other up. They’ve learned to take breaks when they’re feeling overwhelmed, and to be wholly present with one another on the stage. Plus, “they can sing their little butts off,” says Ames with equal amounts affection and respect.
The Live Arts Teen Theater Ensemble rehearses Rent. Photo by Martyn Kyle
This is technically the Rent: School Edition, but the cast would be loath to have their production passed off as “just a teen show.”
“Everyone in this show is well-equipped…capable of displaying the massive amounts of emotion that come behind this show,” says McHone, who is so committed to Rent and his castmates that he drives an hour and a half each way, from his hometown outside of Harrisonburg, to be in this production.
Taylor wants “everyone to leave the theater with a heightened sense of awareness” of the work yet to be done around the many themes addressed in Rent.
It’s what the cast has done, adds McHone, and these are lessons the cast expects to take with them even when the stage lights go down.
That, and the fact that they are light. They are love. They are here.
The Live Arts Teen Theater Ensemble brings love and light to its production of Rent, on stage through July 28.
With Black Mac, Ti Ames directs one of Shakespeare’s most popular plays in a new light. Photo by Tristan Williams.
Ti Ames loves William Shakespeare. Or rather, Ames loves the plays of William Shakespeare.
It’s a love that started when Ames played a fairy in The Tempest at Live Arts at age 9, and it grew when, at 16, Ames became the first black actor to win the English-Speaking Union National Shakespeare Competition in 2012.
Now 23, Ames loves how Shakespeare’s verse feels alive like a heartbeat and its ability to “make people feel something more than they have ever felt” in a single moment.
Ames believes that Shakespeare wrote “to tell the stories that he wanted to tell,” malleable, universal stories that reveal our shared humanity.
With Black Mac, the Charlottesville Players Guild’s original retelling of Shakespeare’s Macbeth in a black aesthetic, which runs through July 29 at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center, Ames tells the story that Ames wants to tell.
Shakespeare’s Macbeth is about two Scottish soldiers, Macbeth and Banquo, who upon returning victorious from a battle are given three prophesies by three witches. The witches hail Macbeth as Thane of Cawdor and king; they hail Banquo as the father of kings to come. Throughout the play, Macbeth and his wife, Lady Macbeth, obsess to the point of madness over the prophesies.
Macbeth isn’t Shakespeare’s bloodiest play (that’s Titus Andronicus), but it’s his greatest thriller. Most productions play up the blood, the gore, the ghosts and the madness. Not Black Mac. “This show is about what happens when you let greed take over and you don’t learn from that lesson,” says Ames, who developed Black Mac with guidance from actor, director, writer and Oberlin professor Justin Emeka. It’s less sensational, more embellished reality, performed in the round, with the house lights on and minimal set pieces and costumes.
Eleven black actors play Community Members who are cast in The Community’s annual production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth (a clever mirroring of the Charlottesville Players Guild’s mission of fostering a community of black theater artists here in town). A single father and his son are cast as Banquo and his son, Fleance. Two best friends, one who made it out of the hood and one who did not, are cast as Malcolm, son of King Duncan, and Macduff, a soldier. Those members of The Community who Ames says “have told it the most”—black women—are cast as the three witches.
But the actors alone don’t make Black Mac black. “Blackness [influences] the story in every way,” says Ames.
The witches are goddesses dressed in white, three Yoruban Orishas, deities of the Yoruba people of various West African nations.
Lady Macbeth’s famous “unsex me here” monologue is an African dance in which she calls upon her ancestors for strength. Malcolm throws serious shade at Macbeth once he suspects Macbeth has killed King Duncan. The latter is Ames’ way of showing the importance of balancing sadness and humor, something Ames says Shakespeare’s plays—and black people—do both well and out of necessity.
While Ames has changed very few words in the play, it “has been completely reimagined in the black vernacular,” says Black Mac producer Leslie Scott-Jones, who plays the Community Member playing the role of the Orisha Oshun and a few smaller, one-off parts.
“That’s the great thing about working with Shakespeare,” says Scott-Jones. “It is literally a universal language; you can bend it, twist it to your will. Once you understand what’s being said, you can put any spin on it.”
“Surprisingly,” reciting Shakespeare’s verse is “a lot like spitting raps,” says Louis Hampton, who plays the Community Member cast as Macduff. Hampton’s one half of the local hip-hop group The Beetnix, and he says once he got familiar with the message, the meter and the words, it flowed.
Black Mac adds unique significance to one of Macbeth’s most dominant themes. Macbeth and Lady Macbeth want children and cannot have them. This fuels Macbeth’s jealousy of Banquo, a father who is told his descendants will be kings. In Black Mac, it’s not power, money or fame that haunts the couple—it’s the lack of a legacy, says Ames.
“For black people, that’s one of the most important things to us, that we have that history to look back on,” knowing that despite slavery, peonage, Jim Crow and more, black people have been able “to make something beautiful,” says Ames. Without a child, a legacy, Mac (played by David Vaughn Straughn) and Lady Mac (played by Richelle Claiborne) have “nothing to keep them going,” says Ames.
Ames knows that Black Mac is not what most people expect when they think of Shakespeare. That’s the point.
“I want people to start thinking differently about how we do theater. Because this should not be ‘the black version of Macbeth.’ It should be Macbeth. It should be Black Mac. It should be exactly what it is.” And forget what your English teacher might have implied, Ames says, because Shakespeare is for everyone.
Ames hopes audience members will exit the auditorium after the show saying, “I never thought of it like that.”
“No, you didn’t,” Ames would say to them with a smile. “And welcome.”
