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Harlem Renaissance 1920-1930 The Flowering of African American Creativity.
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Transcript of Harlem Renaissance 1920-1930 The Flowering of African American Creativity.
Harlem Renaissance
1920-1930
The Flowering of African American Creativity
Why? How?
• The Great Migration
• Jim Crow Laws
• WEB Dubois and the NAACP
• Marcus Garvey and the ‘Back to Africa”
• movement
Literature
• Langston Hughes
• Zora Neale Hurston
• Nella Larson
• James Weldon Johnson
Art
• Aaron Douglas
• Jacob Lawrence
• Archibald Motley
Music
• The Blues-Jazz
• Louis Armstrong
• Duke Ellington
• Josephine Baker
• Bessie Smith
• Ethel Waters
Palmer Hayden, Jeunesse,
Archibald J. Motley, Nightlife,
Aaron Douglas, Study for Aspects of Negro Life: The Negro in an African Setting,
Aaron Douglas, Into Bondage
Henry Ossawa Tanner (American, 1859-1937), The Banjo Lesson
Henry Ossawa Tanner, The Seine
The Migration by Jacob Lawrence
Les Fetiches by Lois Mailou Jones
Baptizing Day by Palmer Hayden
End of the Day by Ellis Wilson
Ellis Wilson Art
Funeral Procession
Field Workers
Flower Vendor
Two Mothers
Archibald J. Motley Jr. Art
Blues
Blues
Tongues (Holy Rollers)
Saturday Night Scene
Hot Rhythm
Jacob Lawrence
Poetry- Langston Hughes
Bad Morning
Here I sit
With my shoes mismated.
Lawdy-mercy!
I’s frustrated
Hope
Sometimes when I’m lonely,
Don’t know why,
Keep thinkin’ I won’t be lonely
By and by.
Luck
Sometimes a crumb fallsFrom the tables of joy,Sometimes a boneIs flung.
To some peopleLove is given,To othersOnly heaven.
American Heartbreak
I am the American heartbreak
Rock on which Freedom
Stumps its toe-
The great mistake
That Jamestown
Made long ago.
Still Here
I’ve been scarred and battered.My hopes the wind done scattered.Snow has friz me, sun has baked me.
Looks like between ‘emThey done tried to make me
Stop laughin’, stop lovin’, stop livin’-But I don’t care!I’m still here!
Final curve
When you turn the corner
And you run into yourself
Then you know that you have turned
All the corners that are left
Wake
Tell all my mourners
To mourn in red-
Cause there ain’t no sense
In my bein’dead
Dream Deferred
What happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?Or fester like a sore— and then run?Does it stink like rotten meat?Or crust and sugar over— like a syrupy sweet?Maybe it just sags like a heavy load
Or does it just explode?
Dream Dust
Gather out of star-dustEarth-dustCloud-dust,Storm-dust,
And splinters of hail,One handful of dream-dust
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