We were lucky to catch up with Rashad Wright recently and have shared our conversation below.

Rashad, appreciate you joining us today. Are you happy as a creative professional? Do you sometimes wonder what it would be like to work for someone else?

I’ll answer these questions in order.

Yes, I am happy as an artist/creative. While I have held employment at multiple institutions, I’ve been an artist the entire time. Artistry is a lifestyle. I live in an artist commune called ProtoType 237. We’re all artist that live in, work in, and maintain a performance hall/gallery alongside one another. Most “jobs” stigmatized bringing your work home. As an artist I find myself at my happiest the less separated my professional life is from my social life. I live at my job, my life is my work, and my work makes me happy.

Concerning whether or not I would like to have a regular job. Being an artist is a “regular job.” I’ve studied my craft extensively inside collegiate acadamia and competitively. As an artist, I have a resume, cover letters, portfolios, headshots, work samples, biographies etc… What’s the difference between an artist and engine else whom is self employed? In all honesty, I find the concept of this question to be disrespectful. As a professional I’ve invested time, training, and practice just as much if not more than many of my counterparts with “regular jobs.” The focus shouldn’t be treating artists as if they are professionals because that language is coddling. The artist is a professional.

As a result of this language and what it does I did often seek financial capital via paths more often traversed. I was a soldier in the US National Guard and considered using that to springboard a career as a civil servant or in law enforcement. As an able-bodied black male most of my privileges in life are afforded to me as result of my physical abilities. I found every workplace, I’ve been in to be particularly physically taxing and draining. No matter the environment for some reason I was the one expected to be responsible for alot of physical labor whether as a swim instructor, line cook, or even as a teacher. As a performer I acknowledge my craft up until this point in my career has relied heavily on my physical abilities but I would like to do so in an environment that isn’t taxing, demanding, or sometimes demeaning.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I consider myself a Performance Artist. I distinctly thrive in spaces where I am allowed to be seen, heard, and in more intense showcases smelled. That was a joke. I consider the act of performing to be an art form, one I juxtapose with other talents, like poetry and theatre.

I’m a writer with a degree in Creative Writing. My focuses were in poetry and memoir. Since then I’ve published my first memoir titled Romeo’s Whiskey with a second one being released shortly. I’m also a playwright who cowrote and starred in Etu’s Raucaus Caucus Tango. I’m an actor, most of the plays I’ve performed in we’re my own but also the work of former Mrs. NJ, Tanisha Fordham.

I’m in a band, we’re called ChillBrown, our genre fuses Neo-Soul with poetry. We’re six artists of color consisting of vocalist/keyboardist eze nightingale, drummer/backup vocalist John Enriquez, saxophonist Daniel Chapman, guitarist Mike Wu, bassist Melvin Badger, and myself as an emcee/poet.

I once held the title of Poet Laureate of Jersey City and have performed with multiple other Laureates, sharing stages with Grammy award winning artists, National Grand Slam champions, and critically acclaimed dance companies. If you can imagine something being done with poetry, I’ve probably already done it.

My goal is to provide visibility for our vulnerabilities. Most wouldn’t call my writing style complex but instead colloquial. I’m much more interested in creating work that is inclusive instead of technical, my simplicity is intentional.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

I didn’t think I belonged in college, but I was an athlete, with good grades, and I worked well with others. I was going to enlist.

Thankfully my mother refused. She insisted I go to college and offered to pay for my tuition. I applied to multiple schools maybe a week before semesters would begin. I got accepted to every school but chose the cheapest and closest option.

Two years into my collegiate education I realize how much I hated the business department, being a cog in this capitalist landscape contradicted everything I stood for. Meanwhile this entire time I was performing every opportunity I had and already amassed a rather large body of writing. I knew what I was good at but had no idea that I could even study writing in college.

I changed majors immediately, of which my mother wasn’t too enthusiastic about for reasonable reasons. She was reluctant to fund such a goal. So I enlisted.

If being in business was morally questionable, imagine my challenges as a soldier, an infantryman at that. I wasn’t just an infantryman, I was a gunner. I had the heaviest equipment and a significant amount of responsibilities. We ate food from bags, slept in dirt, and marched everywhere with everything we owned strapped to our backs. My fellow soldiers at basic training all enlisted for admirable reasons: a friend was expecting a child, some people existed for citizenship, a few to make their families proud. But me I enlisted to be a writer.

I would show up to classes with my boots still on and a uniform in my bag. On a Monday morning my classmates and I were indistinguishable, them hungover, me exhausted.

I was a soldier, a lifeguard, a swim teacher, a peer educator, captain of the cross country team and a full time student all at the same time. Then I realized I hated school. I was notorious amongst the English Department. I protested every essay and assignment. My intention wasn’t to study writers I didn’t care for, I already did my own readings, I took my classes so I could write. Eventually worn from emails my professors agreed to allow my critiques to be creations. If I hated a book, I rewrote it. If I disliked a character, I remodeled them. My poor professors had to read entire chapbooks and collections.

A year after graduating I was named the poet laureate of my hometown, and was the grandslam champion of the local competitive poetry team. The tenacity that got me through the military got me through the classroom. I was recognized and celebrated for all of the passion and care I had for poetry.

I wish I could’ve done it without all of the hardship but if those moments made me who I am now. I’d do it all over again.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

I get to look out in the audience and see people realize “I can do that.” I’m a mentor, I teach my students how to perform, write, and edit their work. At first they are always eager, a little confident. As the process continues I watch them question themselves, they become doubtful. New skills and techniques become intimidating. They ask questions, their resolve is shaken. They test themselves, they shy from certain challenges and rise to others.

But at the end of my mentorship they step up on that stage lookout into audience, the same way I always do. Then they share their work, take that stage for themselves, walk off confident and empowered.

The whole time I see and remember how they scared and shy they were when they first asked for my thoughts on a poem or lone or something they created.

Contact Info:

• Website: Prototype237.com
• Instagram: @write_raw
• Facebook: Rashad Wright
• Youtube: RoqInitiative