Spelman College Museum of Fine Art has long been my favorite - it’s near me, free to the public, and located in a historically black neighborhood on an HBCU campus - and got me started on my art appreciation journey. This month, they’re showing Amanda Williams’ We Say What Black This Is. I’m especially excited to support a black woman artist in AEC (architecture, engineering, construction).

A trained architect and MacArthur award winner, Williams uses her background to explore systemic racism through the lens of spatial dynamics. The oil and watercolor paintings were created in response to the Blackout Tuesday social media mass posting of black squares.

“With a range of abstract paintings in the same square format as the Instagram grid, rich in texture and hue, alongside intimately scaled watercolors that incorporate handwritten notes and phrases, Williams explores cultural, social, and political dimensions of Black identity, particularly how Black spaces are formed, defined, and erased. Central to Williams’ work is the interplay between color and language. Her titles, infused with Black vernacular, forge immediate connections with Black audiences, turning colloquial expressions into tools for critiquing oppressive systems and celebrating the beauty and complexity of Blackness.”

Learn more here. Parking is in the Spelman campus garage.

This fiber art installation by Courtney Brooks was originally displayed on Art Atlanta BeltLine’s Southside Trail in 2020, highlighting the creativity, sisterhood, and significance of Black hair practices. This community hair braiding project invited Black women and girls to participate in crafting the fifteen foot long braids, and brings awareness to the CROWN Act which protects girls and women from being denied employment and educational opportunities because of their natural hair.

Learn more here. Parking is free in the Carriage Works lot across the street.

Mystic Treasures is Chaice Garner’s first solo exhibition, currently on display at Echo Contemporary Art. Her collection of ceramic pieces blend folklore, symbolism, and animal imagery with color and intricate details to tell stories about the seen and unseen. I’m looking forward to spotting symbols that have frequently appeared throughout time and place, like the blue eyes (reminds me of evil eye pendants), and the rabbit shown in the above photo (reminds me of childhood fables and the hidden meanings of Playboy).

Learn more here. Park in the lot on Echo St NW.

I’ll be back to share my thoughts.

<3 Nia

My favorite cafe in Atlanta, Intermezzo is like a vacation in Milan or Paris without the flight. It feels more like a restaurant given the size, level of service, and offerings. This doesn’t take away from its quiet and intimate aesthetic. It can be all-purpose; I’ve studied in the dining room, done homework at the bar, had meetings with friends, and a few romantic dates. My usual orders: strawberry banana crepes, Florentine crepes, and a Granita latte. The price is around the same as an IHOP meal.

Intermezzo Midtown validates parking in the garage next to STK. Intermezzo Dunwoody has a large free parking lot.

The Ke’nekt Cooperative

On the Westside, this is where I go when I want to truly feel at home. It’s actually a coworking space with a cafe inside. Here, you’ll engage with interesting people doing amazing work. The layout of the place invites connection and the weekly events have something for everybody. The space is in a converted garage and when it’s warm outside, the garage door is open so that patrons get that breezy indoor-but-outdoor feel. I recommend their Peach Cobbler Cider, a sweet and tangy dessert drink with delicious cobbler crumbles on the surface.

Ke’nekt has their own parking lot directly in front.

Lucian Books & Wine

Fine dining in a bookstore. This is where I go when I want to be fancy, and I typically have to book 2-3 weeks in advance. The menu varies through the seasons. Pictured is a peach prosciutto arugula situation on focaccia, 10/10. I enjoyed it with a glass of white wine. If going to read or work, the best time is when it opens, so around 11 AM on the weekend. The dinner hours are a classy, intimate date night mood.

Free parking is in the garage it shares the building with.

The Office Bar

On Peachtree in the Google building, this spot is a cozy upscale mood with sleek velvety interiors and ample table space to set up and stay for a while. I’ve been twice on typical date night hours and to my surprise, it wasn’t crowded. Patrons were getting work done, relaxing, or having intimate conversations. My usual order is the Office Gossip cocktail, a refreshing blend of elderflower, grapefruit, and ketel one cucumber, paired with their simple House Burger and fries (can be substituted for caesar salad). I also enjoyed the Nashville Fried Chicken Sandwich. The offerings can be pricey, but there are weekly specials.

The bar will validate your valet ticket if you park at the hotel next door. (Self-parking in Google’s garage comes out to $20.)

February 5, 2023

7:00 AM - ATL to PHL

For short flights under three hours, I’m a sucker for a good $50 roundtrip deal from Frontier or Spirit. Despite the lack of complementary snacks and private mini-TVs, I can usually count on a performance from the passengers. I’m an astute people watcher. How we interact tells a lot about how we regard ourselves and others.

Living rent-free in my mind is a thought-provoking encounter between a middle-aged, stern faced woman in a fabulous fur coat and a middle-aged man with a backwards cap and pants far below his waist, his wide smile giving I’m happy to be here. Though the flight was a quick two hours, the man loudly and repeatedly tells everyone how long it was. The fur-coated woman goes, “Hmm.. you don’t fly often, do you?”

Unpack. What is your worldview, and how is it defining your character and your caricature? What is your core, those things that are true about you no matter where you are and what you’re doing? And what about those things you exaggerate, perhaps to make a point about yourself? Black art and literature is always posing this question to me.

What is your worldview, and how does it define your character and your caricature?

10:00 AM - Amina

I grab a Lyft to Amina, a black-owned restaurant in the Old City section of Philly. I originally wanted the Cheesesteak Beignets, but saved that for next time and went with a Lobster Omelet - butter poached lobster, pimento cheese, sweet peppers, and red onions served with home style hash browns and a side of cheese grits. I sat at the bar with a book, but no need for it as the staff and owner chatted me up as if they knew me in another life, giving me recommendations and well wishes on my day trip. This is something I don’t often feel in my home city of Atlanta, but almost every time I visit another historically black city (like New Orleans). Though I frequent lots of hospitable gems at home, I feel part of my city has loosened its character and gave way to caricature. I finished off my breakfast with warm apple pie and ice cream.

2:00 PM - Harriett’s Bookshop

Nestled in Fishtown is Harriett’s Bookshop, founded by literary activist Jeannine Cook. It feels like I’ve stepped into an art gallery. I find a cozy corner for myself in the basement where there’s a wide collection of books-on-sale, most of them slightly worn and probably out of print.

Up until this point, I hadn’t felt called to consider James Baldwin. I spent most of my time with the women - bell hooks, Audre Lorde. Rather than a list of Must-Reads consumed in a check-the-box manner, my literary taste is dictated by what I need to survive the season I’m in. Black books are like various renditions of the Bible to me, their sentences like scripture, their overarching themes a salvation balm.

Black books are like various renditions of the Bible to me, their sentences like scripture, their themes a salvation balm.

Among the rows of old books I find Black Women in the Fiction of James Baldwin by Trudier Harris, published in 1985. A former library book from Westside High School. Its description reads:

“In James Baldwin’s fiction, according to Harris, black women are conceptually limited figures until their author ceases to measure them by the standards of the community fundamentalist church. Harris analyzes works written over a thirty-year period to show how Baldwin’s development of female character progresses through time.

Black women in the early fiction, responding to their elders as well as to religious influences, see their lives in terms of duty as wives, mothers, sisters, and lovers. Failure in any of these roles leads to guilt feelings and the expectation of damnation. In later works, Baldwin adopts a new point of view, acknowledging complex extenuating circumstances in lieu of pronouncing moral judgment. Female characters in works written at this stage eventually come to believe that the church affords no comfort.

Baldwin subsequently makes villains of some female churchgoers, and caring women who do not attend church become his most attractive characters. Still later in Baldwin’s career, a woman who frees herself of guilt by moving completely beyond the church attains greater contentment than almost all of her counterparts in the earlier works.”

*Content warning: last paragraph mentions horrific abuse.

Am I ready for Baldwin though? On p. 8, Harris writes about Julia in Just Above My Head, who is sexually abused by her father and brother. This turns my stomach. You know how some black people are sick of slave narratives? Yeah. I can’t do incest narratives. I immediately close the book, which I will end up buying. I sit there and meditate on this difficult theme that isn’t new to black literature. It already exists on my bookshelf back home. Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, for example. For now these treasures will sit unread until I’m ready to unpack the characters and caricatures I might find, not only in these books but in myself and the real-life people around me.

I spend the rest of my day at the bookshop before finding a customary cheesesteak and boarding my flight back home.

After twenty-seven years of engaging with books, my personal library tells all my business if you look closely. There are womanist texts, childhood favorites, self-helps, Christian books sitting next to juju manuals, a Toni Morrison collection with custom covers, and my prized stack of bell hooks titles that I keep stacked with a little vase of fresh flowers on top.

I have no issues saying what I think. Still, my personal collection elicits reactions that rival my best spoken musings. There’s a tiny light that turns on for guests who peruse my library. So you’re a feminist… do you hate men? An ex asked, which prompted a short lesson.

I grew up with access to two kinds of thought about reading. On one side, I was taught to read widely and voraciously, starting with classics like Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston in Fahima Ife’s eighth grade class. With most of my caretakers there were no parental controls on what I could read. At least she’s reading. I remember sometime around ten years old I read Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, my uncle’s tattered high school copy. I was still a playground-and-babydoll kid. I remember feeling my understanding of the world come undone and having no idea what to do with this new perspective, beyond feeling deep wonder. This feeling follows me throughout my literary journey. I’ll read a sentence that stirs my heart’s choir, a sound of resonance vibrating under my skin.

I continued to read widely into my teenage years. I especially loved my Bible. When I tried to discuss it, a trusted family member told me that’s nice but be careful, you like to read too deep into things. Similar attitudes at my first office job where I was questioned about any book on my desk with a tone of suspicion (yes, in 2022). These positive and negative experiences rate my books as my most valuable possessions. I have read my way out of every dilemma and into so many personal wins. I read myself free.

Share with me in the comments a book that guides you, and savor these resources for your curatorial pleasure. <3

A series on black book culture

Notes by writer and Professor Howard Ramsby II.

African American students and bookstores

Black men, personal libraries, and black book culture

Black bookstores in NYC: toward a history

Ben McFall - nearly 40 years at the Strand Bookstore

Black book culture

Articles on the home library

A Home Library Can Tell Your Life Story, Tim McKeough

The Art of Curating the Perfect Home Library, Rachel Verona Cote

Memoirs about a life of reading

Gather Me: A Memoir in Praise of the Books That Saved Me, Glory Edim

Read Until You Understand: The Profound Wisdom of Black Life and Literature, Farrah Jasmine Griffin

YouTube videos

Collectors’ Showcase: Philadelphians Collect Black Writers

Joanna Banks’ Book Collection + Penn Library Article

Happy New Year,

Nia