Harlem Renaissance Project 2015  Background  Poetry, Art, Music Choices

America was at a turning point during the Roaring Twenties! Old versus New Farms to Cities Prohibition Backfired Stock Market Boomed New Rights for Women Radio & Movies Harlem Renaissance

What is Harlem? Harlem is a section of New York City where many African American artists, musicians, and writers gathered in the 1920s. The neighborhood became a center of black culture through music clubs, art galleries, and literary events.

When did the Harlem Renaissance happen? 1865 End of Civil War Lincoln Killed 13th Amendment (End of Slavery) WW I 1914-1918 Great Migration Harlem Renaissance 1920s-1940 WWII 1939-1945 Plessy v. Ferguson 1896 Roaring Twenties 1920s Great Depression 1930s Reconstruction 1865-1877

What’s so special about the Harlem Renaissance? The Harlem Renaissance is important because African American art, music, and literature reflected life at the time for many Americans, black and white. It also laid the foundation for popular American culture from the 1920s until today.

How did the work of the Harlem Renaissance artists reflect the changes happening in America in the 1920s?

First, let’s hear some music… Bullets and Bayonets by John Philips Sousa It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing by Duke Ellington

Next, let’s look at some artwork… American Gothic – Grant Wood Street Life, Harlem – William H. Johnson

Other Paintings by William H. Johnson

Harlem Renaissance Poetry, Art, and Music In this project, you will choose a poem that interests you from this presentation. You will also choose a piece of art of music that you feel complements the poem you chose. Next, you will write a mini-essay comparing and contrasting the two pieces. Finally, you will write a poem that reflects your personal response to the works you chose.

A few words about words… The word “negro” is no longer an acceptable term for African American people or culture. However, the word was used by African American writers and artists during the Harlem Renaissance. You should not use the word “negro” in your project except when citing a title or quoting an example from an artist’s work.

Harlem by Langston Hughes What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

Southern Mansion by Arna Bontemps Poplars are standing there still as death and ghost of dead men meet their ladies walking two by two beneath the shade and standing on the marble steps. There is a sound of music echoing through the open door and in the field there is another sound tinkling in the cotton: chains of bondmen dragging on the ground. The years go back with an iron clank, a hand is on the gate, a dry leaf trembles on the wall. Ghost are walking. They have broken roses down and poplars stand there still as death...

The White House By Claude McKay Your door is shut against my tightened face, And I am sharp as steel with discontent; But I possess the courage and the grace To bear my anger proudly and unbent. The pavement slabs burn loose beneath my feet, A chafing savage, down the decent street; And passion rends my vitals as I pass, Where boldly shines your shuttered door of glass. Oh, I must search for wisdom every hour, Deep in my wrathful bosom and sore and raw, And find in it the superhuman power To hold me to the letter of your law! Oh, I must keep the heart inviolate Against the potent power of your hate.

Any Human to Another by Countee Cullen The ills I sorrow at Not me alone Like an arrow, Pierce to the marrow, Through the fat And past the bone. Your grief and mine Must intertwine Like sea and river, Be fused and mingle, Diverse yet single, Forever and forever. Continued…

Any Human to Another (continued) Let no man be so proud And confident, To think he is allowed A little tent Pitched in a meadow Of sun and shadow All his little own. Joy may be shy, unique, Friendly to a few, Sorrow never scorned to speak To any who Were false or true. Your every grief Like a blade Shining and unsheathed Must strike me down. Of bitter aloes wreathed, My sorrow must be laid On your head like a crown.

The Negro by Langston Hughes I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa. I’ve been a slave: Caesar told me to keep his door-steps clean. I brushed the boots of Washington. I’ve been a worker: Under my hand the pyramids arose. I made mortar for the Woolworth Building. Continued…

The Negro (continued) I’ve been a singer: All the way from Africa to Georgia I carried my sorrow songs. I made ragtime. I’ve been a victim: The Belgians cut off my hands in the Congo. They lynch me now in Texas. I am a Negro: Black as the night is black. Black like the depths of my Africa.

Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar I know what the caged bird feels, alas! When the sun is bright on the upland slopes; When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass, And the river flows like a stream of glass; When the first bird sings and the first bud opes, And the faint perfume from its chalice steals— I know what the caged bird feels! I know why the caged bird beats his wing Till its blood is red on the cruel bars; For he must fly back to his perch and cling When he fain would be on the bough a-swing; And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars And they pulse again with a keener sting— I know why he beats his wing! Continued…

Sympathy (continued) I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,— When he beats his bars and he would be free; It is not a carol of joy or glee, But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core, But a plea that upward to Heaven he flings— I know why the caged bird sings!

I, Too Sing America by Langston Hughes I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Continued…

I, Too Sing America (continued) Tomorrow, I’ll sit at the table When company comes. Nobody’ll dare Say to me, “Eat in the kitchen,” Then. Besides, They’ll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed— I, too, am America.

Choose a Poem to Study

Aspiration (1936) Artist: Aaron Douglas

FIRE!! Magazine Cover Artist: Aaron Douglas

The Ascent of Ethiopia (1932) Artist: Lois Mailou Jones

Three Folk Musicians (1967) Artist: Romare Bearden

The Migration of the Negro, panel 50 Artist: Jacob Lawrence

Nightlife (1943) Artist: Archibald Motely, Jr.

Harlem at Night Artist: Winold Reiss

Georgia Landscape (ca. 1934-1935) Artist: Hale Woodruff

Couple in Raccoon Coats (1932) Artist: James Van Der Zee

Tar Beach (1988) Artist: Faith Ringgold

Music It Don’t Mean a Thing [instrumental plus incidental vocals]   [instrumental plus incidental vocals] Recorded By: Duke Ellington & His Orchestra Ivie Anderson – Vocals It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing It don’t mean a thing, all you’ve got to do is sing It makes no difference if it’s sweet or hot Just keep that rhythm, give it everything you’ve got

A Night in Tunisia Ella Fitzgerald Music A Night in Tunisia Ella Fitzgerald The moon is the same moon above you Aglow with its cool evening light But shining at night in Tunisia Never does it shine so bright The stars are aglow in the heavens But only the wise understand That shining at night in Tunisia They guide you through the desert sand…

Struttin’ with Some Barbecue Louis Armstrong Music Struttin’ with Some Barbecue Louis Armstrong

Take the “A” Train Duke Ellington Music Take the “A” Train Duke Ellington

Strange Fruit Billie Holiday Music Southern trees bear strange fruit Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees Pastoral scene of the gallant South The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh Then the sudden smell of burning flesh Here is fruit for the crows to pluck For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop Here is a strange and bitter crop

St. Louis Blues Ella Fitzgerald Music St. Louis Blues Ella Fitzgerald I hate to see that evening sun go down Just because my baby, he has gone and left this town If I’m feelin’ tomorrow like I’m feelin’ today Feelin’ tomorrow like I’m feelin’ today I’m gonna’ pack my truck and make my getaway I went to the gypsy to have my fortune told She said “Ooo, baby, all you need is a whole lotta’ soul…”

Choose a Piece of Art or a Song that you feel strongly relates to the poem you selected.