We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Kelsey Ogbewe. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Kelsey below.
Kelsey , appreciate you joining us today. Learning the craft is often a unique journey from every creative – we’d love to hear about your journey and if knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently to speed up the learning process.
I’m a writer who finds his voice in rap, nurtures it with jazz, and offers it as poetry. Every time I sit down to write an essay, draft a poem, or record a song, I always consider the musicality and rhythm of language. It’s my most natural way to create. I first learned to do this when I was much younger, between ten and thirteen years old. Around that time, I was a big Lil’ Wayne fan. I remember being enamored by Wayne’s witty wordplay, effortless flow, and smooth delivery. I tried to memorize every verse on all three Carter albums (Tha Carter II is still my favorite one of the three). I even tried mimicking Wayne, writing my first raps at thirteen.
Then later in my teenage years, I found Rakim, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, and Charlie Parker’s music. I recall watching an interview with Rakim where he spoke about how Coltrane’s horn playing influenced his rap style. That interview changed my understanding of rap and jazz’s relationship. I started listening closely to Coltrane, Davis, and Parker’s music, studying how they might’ve influenced rap. After that, I tried to incorporate a jazzy swing into my flow. I would eventually test this newfound creativity during my high school cyphers and rap battles.
My relationship with poetry goes as far back as elementary school. My fifth-grade teacher could tell I had an affinity for it. He told my parents to keep encouraging me to read it. It wasn’t until my senior year of high school that I started seriously writing it. Technically speaking, rap is poetry, and I was already writing poetry when I wrote my first rap. But my senior year was when another style of poetry, Spoken Word, landed in my lap. Gil Scott Heron, Propaganda, and The Last Poets introduced me to the art form. I saw what might’ve been the best combination of rap and jazz in Spoken Word poetry. Witty and complex lyricism coupled with improvised rhythms is how I saw the art form. “I wanna write like that!” I remember saying to myself. So I did. I delved into the world of Spoken Word poetry and have kept writing and performing ever since.
At the core of my learning process was a desire to study the musicality of language. Sometimes that would lead me to emulate a specific style or experiment to find my own sound. Of course, there were other ways I learned to do what I do now. For example, I became an emotion-filled storyteller through preaching. I learned to infuse spiritual lessons into my work through the Pentecostal church that raised me. My focus on Black liberation and personhood came from dealing with the aftermath of the 2014 murder of Michael Brown. After leaving the church and Christianity in 2017, I had to find myself all over again. Creating became my vehicle for self-discovery, and it’s why my pieces are so personal now. But one aspect remained constant. Every time I sat down to create, I made sure my words would dance on the page or a stage in front of a microphone.
Looking back now, I wouldn’t change anything about my learning process. Being a writer and an orator is all about discovery. James Baldwin once said, “the whole language of writing for me is finding out what you don’t want to know…But something forces you to anyway.” Miles Davis said, “sometimes it takes a long time to sound like yourself.” The most vital skill I’ve learned over the last few years is to submit myself to the process. While it took me some time to find my voice and become the writer I am today, I don’t regret what it took to get me here. It wasn’t just music, art, and other creative things that got me here. It was pain, heartbreak, religious trauma, joy, love, and my desire to explore my Black personhood that inspired my approach to my craft. The rhythms of my life inform my vocal inflections just as much as rap does. Love and jazz music inspire me to create vivid worlds with my words. And although I’m no longer religious, engaging with poetic language is still a spiritual practice for me.
But I’m not done learning. There’s so much more to my voice and craft that I have yet to explore. As of now, I’m studying Black Arts Movement poets, Négritude writers, and Afro-Surrealists. I’m also allowing the last few years of my life to inform my sound. The main thing standing in my way of learning more is myself. I can’t let my ego or fear of failure stop my progression. While I tell folks that my current work is some of my best, I’ve yet to hit my creative ceiling. Even if I hit that ceiling, I know there’s much more to learn. Writing and creating is a lifelong process of discovery. I’ll never have learned enough until I’ve reached the end of my life. So I remind myself daily to be a student of the craft first, to push my creative boundaries, to allow life to be my greatest teacher, and to embrace and celebrate the journey.
As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?
My name is Kelsey Ogbewe. I’m a poet, essayist, and artist based in Gaithersburg, Maryland, with an affinity for creative storytelling. I was born to Nigerian and Haitian parents. My ethnic and racial backgrounds inform my craft. I began writing and performing in 2012. My earlier performances were for church events, conferences, and more. But since leaving that world in 2017, I’ve been a regular open mic performer at Busboys & Poets in Washington, D.C, a speaker for local school assemblies, and a guest artist for the Baltimore-based nonprofit Speak Life Tour. I aim to produce honest art that explores Black personhood, liberation, relationships, education, and spirituality while promoting self-discovery and creative freedom. Artistically, you can expect a writer and an orator who finds his voice in rap, nurtures it with jazz, and offers it as poetry. Ultimately, I hope my poems, essays, and other creative ventures express the same sincerity Malcolm X spoke of: “I want to be remembered as someone who was sincere. Even if I made mistakes, they were made in sincerity.” You can find my prose, poetry, and performances on Medium, Youtube, Apple Music, Spotify, and other online platforms.
What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?
My desire to create honest art drives every facet of what I do.
First, I’m obligated to be honest with myself. I won’t ever write, record, or perform anything that doesn’t speak truthfully about my inner world.
Second, I want to tell the truth about the world around me as best as I can. Sometimes that’ll be pieces that disturb the comfortable. Other times that’ll be art that comforts the disturbed. I also recognize that I could be wrong and can pivot when necessary.
Third, I want folks to know that I’m a Black creative. I don’t shy away from that distinction. My goal as a creative isn’t to transcend my ethnic or racial identity. My goal is to explore the depths of my Black personhood. Everything I do comes from my Black mind and pulls from other Black thinkers. It would be remiss of me not to pay homage to that part of my creative soul.
For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?
The most rewarding aspect of being an artist is when folks connect with my work. Yes, I write for myself. But I share my work to connect emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually with people. More specifically, I create to have conversations with folks across the African diaspora. So it brings me joy and fulfillment if my work becomes a conversation starter.
I’m currently working on a self-exploration project. The first part of the project is a Spoken Word EP, Pieces of a Man. The six-track EP is my attempt at exploring and embracing parts of my humanity through poetry. Every piece is a piece of myself, and the title is an homage to Gil Scott Heron. I plan on putting out a follow-up EP, mixing rap and poetry.
Both short albums are audio snapshots of the final part of the project, a collection of short stories, essays, and poetry. The book will have the same name as the EP. At the end of last year, I published two short stories (“Notes from a Distant Memory” & “Confessions of a Weeping Man”) that’ll be in the book. CRY Magazine, a Medium publication for creatives navigating emotions, gave these stories a home on their platform in early January. By sharing the most vulnerable parts of myself, I want other Black men to feel affirmed in their personhood. So far, it’s been amazing to hear Black men connecting to this work.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://unitedmasters.com/a/iamkelseyog
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/iamkelseyog/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KOgbewe7
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kelsey-ogbewe/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/iamkelseyog
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@iamkelseyog
- Other: Pieces of a Man (EP): https://ffm.to/pieces-of-a-man Notes from a Distant Memory (Short Story #1): https://medium.com/cry-mag/afterword-notes-from-a-distant-memory-2d9cca657847?sk=1015b47ab66def74836c114f3b1f4f76 Confessions of a Weeping Man (Short Story #2): https://medium.com/cry-mag/confessions-of-a-weeping-man-3caf8290a1f3?sk=898f8266b52ca579a69bb2a0eea6fe9d Wild Cherry – Single: https://ffm.to/wild-cherry
Image Credits
First Photo by Barnabas Ketema Second Photo by Reece Andrea All other photos were shot on my iPhone.