In March 2008 I wrote this after seeing bill t jones & company do what they do
November 26, 2009 at 8:47am
SOMETHING SO NECESSARY I CALL IT HOODOO ART
last night i saw one of'um them spirits gave the big load to carry
bill t jones
his art
his art his art his art...
weighed and measured in movements given to those who have joined his
troupe of
ambidextrous interpreters of the show nuff
color coated garblers shakin up salt
they bend their bodies till time stands still
rewinds to the place where art took the crash route
a father who kills his daughter for her breath to carry her own words
a psychotic rampager doin another kind of family intervention
rust colored headline news given the healing oils by this shamanic
circle
medicine torsos twistin the deformed puzzlers riddle
doin whatever it takes to get at the holy tip
liftin dark magic gone awry see some shine
yeah
through the art of dance they spoke about the killin' spirit
not in glorifying misspent energy but to recognize it as a source of
power and might
a place where the soul travels to know the worth of life has value
is necessary as art
as art as art
as song as story as movement
as song
as story as movement
After they tamed the roar after the audience had been filled with the
rise up
bill t jones gave even more
he opened up the floor to the audience
yes!
i have finally found my hoodoo beggin' room
i know if he don't hear me full ways at least i did my very best
yes! i do have a question
the scribe gives nothing until ink flows to the paper- i must write
it first cause if i don't out pops the gibberish heart thumpin babbler
dancin' the winged doll tourettes tongue jumpin up makin soup splash
through the roof
the audience would laugh as i hunt for the strange vocabulary that
just flew out my mouth which will make all of me work up a sweat sure
to be some news story about a river over flowin in a town called yak
"mr. jones-where do u think the energy that your work exudes would go
if you
were not placing it- containing it in the dance the movements and the
story?"
"thats a great question- i don't know I think i would go mad..."
his voice his truth echos past this showcase
pleasure is an odd bird-to find the place where the hereafter speaks
the sky torn in two can soothe the wildest woodworkers -to have
discovered the art of the arts -to know and see and hear'um speak the
big winds- say to me "chile u think we really came here and picked
cotton for hundreds and hundreds of years and not know who runs
nature-umph umph umph...tell our stories daughta tell our stories"
between the cacaphony of dance and exploding music i kept rubbing my
beaded bracelet saying to them hoodoo ridin' me urging me to hurry and
get the loot to do their stories-i say: well yall there it is instead
of takin yaselves cross this cotton and flower field nation...out body
jumpin
fire startin
plane crashin where i can
see ya! there it is! mr. bill t jones done figured out how to make it
work so gowan bother him! ok fine hollywood wanna keep ya in the
unknown slave catagory but here this fellow carryin' hoodoo good-
obviously his juice is the true shine-gowan now follow him!
of course as usual when i get my hoodoo chant goin strong all they say
is:
SCENICVILLE TEXAS SCENICVILLE TEXAS SCENICVILLE TEXAS
its the only way daughta its our song its our story its our place to
let freedom ring - we came here cause we wanted to we came knowin
ain't nobody told our stories daughta aint nobody told our stories
cause we gave'um to u to tell'um until then we ride the winds we body
jump we make art daughta we make art...
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