Monthly Archive for October, 2007

This morn­ing I was strangely affected by an episode of Icon­o­clasts–a Sun­dance tele­vi­sion series–featuring Dave Chapelle and Maya Angelou. They were both so inten­tional with their words, so rev­er­ently guarded in their inter­ac­tions. Chapelle had heard Angelou speak in Day­ton, Ohio just weeks after walk­ing away from a 50 mil­lion dol­lar con­tract with Com­edy Cen­tral, and he said it was like she was speak­ing only to him. Her words res­onated. He requested that they be paired for the show. Angelou con­tin­u­ally referred to him as grand­son and lis­tened respect­fully while he explained why he chooses to use the n-word.

It was bril­liant. Who wouldn’t be curi­ous about their con­ver­sa­tion? Angelou spoke in her famously direct and punc­tu­ated man­ner about words; how they are momen­tar­ily audi­ble or vis­i­ble “things” that hang invis­i­bly in the air, or get in our hair and clothes and fur­ni­ture; how words have a core that lives on. Chapelle talked about how cer­tain words can become cul­tur­ally exclu­sive; how they can take on new mean­ings in dif­fer­ent mouths and are informed by the speaker’s inten­tions. I got chills.

There are pro­found sim­i­lar­i­ties in their pro­fes­sions and con­vic­tions that only become plain when the two are brought together. Angelou works pri­vately, delv­ing inwards, and requires a cleansed mind and space. Chapelle thrives on peo­ple and relies on instinct and con­nec­tion with the audi­ence. Yet both oper­ate with a belief in the uni­ver­sal­ity of every human story. Both have chan­neled very seri­ous con­vic­tions and very real anger into frank and acces­si­ble works of art.

An icon­o­clast being an 8th cen­tury heretic of the Greek Ortho­dox church, Angelou mined the word for ways it might apply to them. She even­tu­ally con­cluded that they both allow them­selves to be com­pelled by the truth as they see it; they shat­ter cul­tural icons before the pub­lic eye. An over­state­ment con­sid­er­ing both are cul­tural icons them­selves, but nonethe­less con­vinc­ing. In the show, they came across as prin­ci­pled and mis­un­der­stood. She led Chapelle through her liv­ing room, offer­ing a story for every paint­ing on the wall, and he drank it in, look­ing sad and grateful.

I wanted to wear that same look in my eyes. Sad and grate­ful: it’s a feel­ing that comes like the kiss of life, and one I used to carry for days on end. It’s been a long, dry spell. Watch­ing the two of them con­nect, and mean it, made me feel thirsty. It was like being in church when the reit­er­a­tion of wis­dom still held power for me. And it made me won­der who I would request if I was placed in a sim­i­lar situation.

Stay tuned for the fruits of my wondering.