“The arts saved my life,” says Haki Madhubuti as he takes a visitor past original paintings on the walls of the Third World Press, located in a former rectory on Chicago’s South Side. He pauses before a painting of Malcolm X. “He was one of my mentors even though we never met. He freed me intellectually,” says Madhubuti, 65, who keeps in touch with Malcolm X’s family. “Real art transcends time.” Equally important to Madhubuti is the library that spans two rooms on the building’s main floor. Yes, the arts, including jazz music and paintings, saved his life, but books are where it all began. Madhubuti says a copy of Black Boy by Richard Wright, which he ...

On a mid-September weekend, passengers riding the “L” near Brighton Park on Chicago’s near South Side were confronted with a rainbow of color. Young people held aerosol cans and sketchbooks filled with extraordinary art as they decorated the walls. It was a weekend celebration where graffiti got the recognition and respect it deserves. Called the Meeting of Styles, the 4th annual International Graffiti and Hip Hop Festival drew graffiti artists from across the country, allowing them to “unify together,” in the words of Seel Fresh, one of Chicago’s leading graffiti artists. To the left of the train tracks, a group of young boys scribbled their names in permanent marker, mimicking the graffiti artists nearby. And why wouldn’t they? “It’s ...

Soft jazz music floats through the checkered hall of Little Village Lawndale High School Campus to signify the few minutes left before classes begin. On a cool Monday morning in October, students pass through the vast glass entranceway, take off their bags and walk through a metal detector. Police officers in navy blue uniforms stand by, cautiously watching the students fill the campus. The students branch off into the four separate high schools within the large building: Multicultural Arts; Infinity Math, Science & Technology; World Language; and Social Justice. As they walk through the halls, the students barely notice the officers; police patrols and metal detectors have become a common sight in Chicago Public Schools and schools ...

David Thomas and Laurel Legler’s film, MC5: A True Testimonial, is rich in provocative images. The 2002 documentary explores a brilliant Detroit band that came close to making it big but never did. The film includes surveillance footage of the band’s afro-sporting, leather-clad lead singer and his band mates gyrating beneath the bellies of Army helicopters at the 1968 Democratic Convention. In another scene, the manic heat of Detroit’s 1967 riots smolders as the camera pans to a giant banner hung from the band’s building. The words, “Burn, baby, burn,” are draped into the flames. These sensational images are braided together with those of the once victorious and now decrepit Grande Ballroom where the band used to ...

For the past three years, Jen Marlowe has traveled to war-torn Sudan to give the world more than 30-second sound bites about the lives of its people. Her past documentary work focused on the Darfur Crisis in Western Sudan. Her current focus is on the rebuilding of Southern Sudan. This past summer, Marlowe captured on video the first return visit of three men separated from their families 20 years ago. They are among more than 20,000 Sudanese Lost Boys who were displaced or orphaned during the second Sudanese Civil War that began in 1983. In 2001, nearly 4,000 Lost Boys relocated to the U.S. Marlowe talked to Temple Hemphill about her experiences working in Sudan. Echo: How did it ...

I stand in the Iguana body jewelry kiosk, separating the blue navel rings from the clear ones, the nose studs from the tongue rings, and the Italian silver from the fake rhodium silver. As I finish arranging everything in the showcase, a man approaches me. “Um, excuse me. What are you?” he asks. “Excuse me? What am I?” I reply. “Yeah, my friend and I walked past here and saw you. We were wondering what you are.” “Funny,” I say. “I thought I looked like a human. Have a nice day, sir.” The man gives me a disgruntled look and turns away, mumbling under his breath. Oh well, another day, another rude “what are you” question. Maybe working alone at a kiosk ...