Tribes Gallery

In an era of ultra-gentrification and bottom-line spending cuts, community friendly arts and cultural organizations are coming under increasing pressure to make ends -- both financial and aesthetic -- meet. A Gathering of the Tribes, located in New York’s Alphabet City, has been fighting the good fight since 1970, when Steve Cannon, a writer and longtime professor of the humanities at various City College campuses (he was eventually tenured at Medgar Evers), bought the former house of Hamilton Fish (founder of The Nation magazine), located between Avenues C and D on 3rd Street. Raised in the musical ambiance of New Orleans, where he hung out with Ellis Marsalis, Cannon has been active in the New York arts scene since his arrival in the early ‘60s. He was quick to observe that many of the hip young, energetic artists who naturally gravitated towards the Lower East Side’s multi-racial and multi-ethnic ambiance (and cheaper rents) had no place to read their poetry, present artwork or play music. Upon his retirement in 1990 -- necessitated by the unfortunate loss of his eyesight -- Cannon had an epiphany: “Well hell,” he thought, “I own this house. They can just do it here.” By the next year, Tribes had been established as a non-profit institution; today, 17 years later, it endures as a factory of creativity: the organization stages poetry readings, publishes a bi-annual magazine (containing a multi-disciplinary mix of literary and visual arts), publishes two books of poetry per year, curates new music recitals every month or two, hosts an art show each month and, during August, launches a full-scale celebration of Charlie Parker’s birthday, complete with music, poetry and the visual arts.

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In an era of ultra-gentrification and bottom-line spending cuts, community friendly arts and cultural organizations are coming under increasing pressure to make ends -- both financial and aesthetic -- meet. A Gathering of the Tribes, located in New York’s Alphabet City, has been fighting the good fight since 1970, when Steve Cannon, a writer and longtime professor of the humanities at various City College campuses (he was eventually tenured at Medgar Evers), bought the former house of Hamilton Fish (founder of The Nation magazine), located between Avenues C and D on 3rd Street. Raised in the musical ambiance of New Orleans, where he hung out with Ellis Marsalis, Cannon has been active in the New York arts scene since his arrival in the early ‘60s. He was quick to observe that many of the hip young, energetic artists who naturally gravitated towards the Lower East Side’s multi-racial and multi-ethnic ambiance (and cheaper rents) had no place to read their poetry, present artwork or play music. Upon his retirement in 1990 -- necessitated by the unfortunate loss of his eyesight -- Cannon had an epiphany: “Well hell,” he thought, “I own this house. They can just do it here.” By the next year, Tribes had been established as a non-profit institution; today, 17 years later, it endures as a factory of creativity: the organization stages poetry readings, publishes a bi-annual magazine (containing a multi-disciplinary mix of literary and visual arts), publishes two books of poetry per year, curates new music recitals every month or two, hosts an art show each month and, during August, launches a full-scale celebration of Charlie Parker’s birthday, complete with music, poetry and the visual arts.

The Charlie Parker Jazz Festival most people may be familiar with is the two-day event, now in its 15th year, normally held on one of its two days just across the street from 151 Avenue B in Tompkins Square Park, where Bird, according to his wife Chan, temporarily maintained a middle-class lifestyle as a “happy square” in the early ‘50s, the last years of his life. Tribes’ relationship with the festival goes back to 1993, when Lower East Side residents began summer rite around the time of Bird’s birthday (Aug. 29th). A young lawyer from the neighborhood, Sam Turvey, had a two-part vision: commemorate each anniversary of the bebop pioneer’s arrival on the planet and, ultimately, erect a statue in his honor in the park (unfortunately, this latter aim has not come to fruition -- yet); in 2000 Turvey hired musicians to come and play at the very first festival using funds he had collected from nearby merchants and residents, including Steve Cannon. “He did that for quite a few years,” notes Cannon, “but people stopped making contributions for him to be able to pay the musicians, so he just threw his hat in the ring.” At this point, the city’s Department of Parks & Recreation, whose deeper pockets were capable of bringing in big-name acts, picked up the festival.

Cannon noticed early on that, while people flocked in from all over town to celebrate the music, they soon left to their respective ‘hoods when the last note had faded. His notion was to have Tribes “do a thing” in conjunction with the festival so that people would be inspired to hang around and partake of the area’s rich cultural ambiance, a win-win scenario for locals and visitors alike. In contrast to the city- sponsored two-day gala, Tribes’ month-long tribute features local musicians who embody and reflect the neighborhood’s living history and ethnic diversity. This year, for example, the organization will host a Butch Morris Conduction, saxophonist/composer Billy Harper, the poetry of downtown poets such as Steve Dalachinsky and Yuko Otomo, a visual art exhibition inspired by Parker’s music and, on the big day, an all-out, day-long street fair with the Hungry March Band. While one might suppose that Tribes will be featuring bebop music, images of saxophones and Beat poetry, this is not the case: “I see it as a celebration of the idea of creativity, period,” says Cannon. “I’m not asking them to paint pieces of Bird. Hell no! They paint whatever the hell they want to paint.” One year, for example, Butch Morris brought in 20 musicians, gave them all flutes and conducted a series of unearthly “Bird” calls; another time, Marshall Allen led Sun Ra’s Arkestra in a backyard concert that not only jam-packed the gallery but had curious neighbors lined up along the entire length of the fence; and last summer, violinist Billy Bang played a rousing recital for a capacity crowd.

Interestingly, in response to the cultural diversity of the neighborhood (some residents only speak Chinese, others only Spanish), Tribes prints its publicity flyers in a variety of languages, hoping to cast the widest possible net for curious listeners. Thankfully, those who do turn out for the August celebration are unlikely to be disappointed, for the sound of jazz and the spirit of Charlie Parker require no translation.

~ Tom Greenland

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