A Thank You to Ralph Ellison & the Butterfly Effect of Black Existentialism
Spring 1952 marked the dawn of a new age in Black literature. Spring 2015 marked its renaissance. As of Spring 2019, I’m still talking about it.
In April 1952, Ralph Ellison famously penned the five words “I am an invisible man.” Through his metaphorical depiction of societal invisibility in his breakout novel, Invisible Man, Ellison helped transform the vision of generations to come.
Invisible Man follows the life of a purposely unnamed character who in subsequent references will be referred to as “The Protagonist.” This protagonist resides in the outskirts of Harlem, New York, similar to that of his author. He suffers from the rare, almost fantastical genetic predisposition that somehow leads to invisibility — invisibility that renders him out of sight from the world around him in both the deep south and progressive north of the United States.
The protagonist’s genetic predisposition is a heightened amount of melanin content in his epidermis, not literal invisibility.
In the novel’s prologue, the Protagonist states, “that invisibility to which [he refers to] occurs because of the peculiar disposition of the eyes of those [he comes] in contact with,” (Ellison, 3). The Protagonist is a young Black man in a dysphoric 1950s America gilded in prosperity, meritocracy, and opportunity. It is not that the world cannot see him, the world “refuses to see” him (Ellison 3).
Through hundreds of pages filled with personal anecdotes as told by the Protagonist that induce an equivalency of laughter as they do horror, Ralph Ellison illustriously identifies identity in and of itself. Beneath each anecdote lies Ralph Ellison’s triumphant subtext: the commentary on identity and the central theme of intrinsic self-awareness in conjunction with, but not limited to one’s race.
Though he may not have intended it as such in the 1950s, with Invisible Man, Ellison not only influenced artists and thinkers in his own generation but also transcended time by influencing generations to come, inciting thought related to identity.
Good company.
Shortly after the release of Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison collaborated with fellow Harlem based artist, photographer Gordon Parks, for a photo-essay titled “A Man Becomes Invisible: Photographer re-creates the emotional crises of a powerful new novel.” The photo-essay originally ran in the August 25, 1952 issue of LIFE magazine. In the photo-essay, Parks and Ellison introduced America to how they perceived the country — moreover, the two strived to show how America perceived them. The article details that “Gordon Parks, a friend of author Ellison, was so moved by this story that he translated it into pictures. With Ellison’s help, he re-created from the novel the scenes on these pages to show the loneliness, the horror, and disillusionment of a man who has lost faith in himself and his world” (Ellison and Parks 9).
The final published photo-essay featured four compositions by Parks in total. The photos chronicle “mysticism that the hero finds in Harlem” a city “not of realities, but of dreams” (Ellison and Parks 10). In the Time magazine article, “Gordon Parks and Ralph Ellison: How Man Becomes Invisible, author and photography historian John Edwin Mason details Ellison and Parks’ artistic influence on one another. According to Mason, “Parks and Ellison both mourned the psychological damage that racism had inflicted on them” and their work individually and collaboratively reflects their shared disposition (Mason).
“Parks, an already immensely talented photographer, received an intellectual push from Ellison. After the collaboration between the two Harlem artists, Parks continually used his camera as a weapon of justice, crafting portraits — visual anecdotes so to speak — of Black beauty and the Black struggle in America similar to that of Ellison’s anecdotes within Invisible Man.
The Butterfly.
Fast-forward more than half a century, and into view comes Kendrick Lamar.
A few weeks after what would have been Ralph Ellison’s 101st birthday, Compton California artist, Kendrick Lamar released his sophomore effort, To Pimp a Butterfly: a funk and avant-garde jazz-inspired rap album that garnered immediate praise, and a handful of Grammys. Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, tells the story of metamorphosis.
Kendrick audibly documents his personal journey into the music industry, with the intention of being seen. While he achieves his dreams, all he feels is resentment after witnessing the injustices of both the industry and society, and the impact he has on the parallel worlds. As the album culminates, he finds the most contentment in solitude.
Lamar becomes engulfed in personal reflection and makes an effort to become a new man; one who embraces his heritage, his gifts, his curses, his mortality, and his ability to empower other individuals.
The aforementioned motifs in and of themselves indirectly correlate to Ellison; however, To Pimp a Butterfly directly references Invisible Man. One of these references is found on the album’s 3rd track, “King Kunta.”
On the braggadocious, James Brown-esque anthem of confidence, Lamar proclaims, “The Yam is the Power that be, you can smell it when I’m walkin’ down the street” (Lamar 2015). In his first verse, Lamar directly references a scene towards the middle of Invisible Man in which the Protagonist purchases yams from a street vendor and begins to eat them through the New York City streets. Yams, a sweet starch with Southern origins, are used as a symbol to reference the very Southern origins that the Protagonist once wanted to run away from, but now embraces.
“I walked along, munching the yam, just as suddenly overcome by an intense feeling of freedom — simply because I was eating while walking along the street. It was exhilarating. I no longer had to worry about who saw me or about what was proper. To hell with all that, and as sweet as the yam actually was, it became like nectar with the thought” (Ellison 265). He continues, “… to hell with being ashamed of what you liked. No more of that for me. I am what I am!” (Ellison 266).
Similar to that of the Protagonist, Kendrick Lamar is unashamed of who he is throughout his album, calling himself a king and a “black man taking no losses” (Lamar).
Now, I’m not saying Ralph Ellison is the reason for To Pimp a Butterfly or Gordon Parks’ impact on photography, but Ellison’s influence is undoubtedly ubiquitous.
Also, just because the year on the calendar doesn’t reflect 1952 or 2015, art is eternal.
