Bansfield's griot journey
To reconcile cultures, traditions and models of expression, spoken word poet Anthony Bansfield draws inspiration from African griot oral history: “It connects to my ancestry and expresses everyday reality in a non-western tradition.”
By Harry Gallon
Anthony Bansfield’s blend of lyric, rhyme, and song crosses cultures and bridges time. His spoken word poetry challenges convention but pays homage to the traditions of his cultural and spiritual predecessors. The medium may differ but the African griot spirit—“of counselor, storyteller, musician and poet”—endures. Indeed, it is through and within this spirit that Bansfield and his art continue to evolve.
“A griot expresses history in a way that is artistic,” said Bansfield (a.k.a Nth Digri). “I want to lay down some details and say something relevant to my time by relating contemporary reality with the past. The griot tradition is a model I relate to.”
Bansfield, 42, acquired a strong sense of ancestry through the “personal lenses” of his mother and father. His mother’s family emigrated from the Breton region of France and his father hails from the tiny Caribbean island of Trinidad.
“My parents are proud of their heritage but they didn’t drum stuff into me,” he said. “They took the time to tell me how they grew up and told me stories about my grandparents. Food, music, parties, hanging out with my extended family, gave me a sense of heritage and culture.”
Bansfield recalls how at an early age he “felt different, or was made to feel that way. It was necessary to see myself through someone else’s eyes.”
At elementary school, he was the “only black kid and essentially a francophone: that was a real double whammy.” Attempts to resolve the feeling of being an outsider are prevalent in his work, particularly early on.
“A griot expresses history in a way that is artistic,” said Bansfield (a.k.a Nth Digri). “I want to lay down some details and say something relevant to my time by relating contemporary reality with the past. The griot tradition is a model I relate to.”
Bansfield, 42, acquired a strong sense of ancestry through the “personal lenses” of his mother and father. His mother’s family emigrated from the Breton region of France and his father hails from the tiny Caribbean island of Trinidad.
“My parents are proud of their heritage but they didn’t drum stuff into me,” he said. “They took the time to tell me how they grew up and told me stories about my grandparents. Food, music, parties, hanging out with my extended family, gave me a sense of heritage and culture.”
Bansfield recalls how at an early age he “felt different, or was made to feel that way. It was necessary to see myself through someone else’s eyes.”
At elementary school, he was the “only black kid and essentially a francophone: that was a real double whammy.” Attempts to resolve the feeling of being an outsider are prevalent in his work, particularly early on.
In Black Hockey Player (2002), he described himself as “A brother who stands out on white ice like a fly in a pail of milk.”
Bansfield has logged many miles in his quest to resolve his feelings of standing out and to realize his own model of oral history.
In this regard, the book Black Skin White Masks by Franz Fanon was critical for Bansfield because it helped him cultivate an important kind of consciousness as a person of African descent.
“You develop a certain neurosis and after a while, you realize a lot of things you do come through that filter,” explains Bansfield. “You work through the discomfort in your skin as you work through adolescence and post-adolescence. It’s a journey. As my art grew, and as I grew as a person, there was a resolution of the outsider theme that was more prevalent in my earlier work.”
“I realized at one point that I was working against myself. I had to resist becoming self-conscious. If that is the experience, why shouldn’t we speak of that? I’m representing exactly where I came from.”
After writing his master’s thesis at the University of Montreal on Caribbean literature and black Canadian writers in 1987, Bansfield immersed himself in Montreal’s spoken word poetry scene. He helped found a group of performance artists called the Diasporic Afrikan Poets and edited an anthology chronicling the group's work, entitled The N'X Step, published in 1993. He also produced his first recording in Montreal, the EP To the Nth Digri.
After writing his master’s thesis at the University of Montreal on Caribbean literature and black Canadian writers in 1987, Bansfield immersed himself in Montreal’s spoken word poetry scene. He helped found a group of performance artists called the Diasporic Afrikan Poets and edited an anthology chronicling the group's work, entitled The N'X Step, published in 1993. He also produced his first recording in Montreal, the EP To the Nth Digri.
In 1993, he moved to Toronto—“I was fascinated with the place and wanted to check out the scene”—where he released the cassette Return of the Rappoet in 1995. In 1996, he released "Rows of Photos" as a poetry video, which was included in the spoken word compilation recording Word Up.
In 1999, Bansfield returned home to Ottawa, where his parents still live. “I’ve always had a love for the city,” he says. “And Ottawa has a unique vibe, though it’s not something I can put my finger on.”
In 1999, Bansfield returned home to Ottawa, where his parents still live. “I’ve always had a love for the city,” he says. “And Ottawa has a unique vibe, though it’s not something I can put my finger on.”
Upon his return, Bansfield took an active role in the slam poetry scene and helped found the Golden Star Lounge collective—a monthly spoken-word night, complete with open mic and slam segments. The collective is still going strong: events usually take place on the last Friday of each month at the African Palace restaurant on Rideau Street.
Slam poetry is a competitive performance event where poets are judged by randomly chosen members of the audience. Bansfield says slam has “established itself as a recognizable and popular genre,” but now that a “certain critical mass has been reached,” he is pulling back from the scene.
“I feel it lost some of its original spirit,” he says of slam. “I like working with genuinely talented, honest people of different backgrounds, disciplines and styles, artists connected to other areas of expression, especially music. But some people are into it only for ego, for a piece of the limelight.”
Bansfield has shared the stage with many noted artists, including two-time Juno Award winner Lillian Allen, Dana Bryant (featured in The Rolling Stone Book of Women In Rock and the International Who's Who of Music), and a number of renowned poets, including Clifton Joseph and Michael St. George.
In the past year, Bansfield appeared in Spread the Wordz in Montreal and in the Toronto festival When Words Are Spoken. His next Ottawa performance is slated for November 12 at the Library and Archives of Canada during Child Day celebrations.
“It won't be long before I'm in the studio again,” Bansfield says, adding that he has been writing down some ideas for a future novel.
“Creating,” he explains, “has function, some kind of reverberation and energy. Words just aren’t flung into space.”
For Bansfield, the creative process begins with “sound: a hum, chant, or a series of sounds. It may come in pieces or a more whole form.”
And like his own personal journey, the process of creating finds its own pace.
“Words suggest themselves later. I have to spend some time letting it all come out. The sound and words reconcile themselves when they are ready.”
Slam poetry is a competitive performance event where poets are judged by randomly chosen members of the audience. Bansfield says slam has “established itself as a recognizable and popular genre,” but now that a “certain critical mass has been reached,” he is pulling back from the scene.
“I feel it lost some of its original spirit,” he says of slam. “I like working with genuinely talented, honest people of different backgrounds, disciplines and styles, artists connected to other areas of expression, especially music. But some people are into it only for ego, for a piece of the limelight.”
Bansfield has shared the stage with many noted artists, including two-time Juno Award winner Lillian Allen, Dana Bryant (featured in The Rolling Stone Book of Women In Rock and the International Who's Who of Music), and a number of renowned poets, including Clifton Joseph and Michael St. George.
In the past year, Bansfield appeared in Spread the Wordz in Montreal and in the Toronto festival When Words Are Spoken. His next Ottawa performance is slated for November 12 at the Library and Archives of Canada during Child Day celebrations.
“It won't be long before I'm in the studio again,” Bansfield says, adding that he has been writing down some ideas for a future novel.
“Creating,” he explains, “has function, some kind of reverberation and energy. Words just aren’t flung into space.”
For Bansfield, the creative process begins with “sound: a hum, chant, or a series of sounds. It may come in pieces or a more whole form.”
And like his own personal journey, the process of creating finds its own pace.
“Words suggest themselves later. I have to spend some time letting it all come out. The sound and words reconcile themselves when they are ready.”
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Ottawa freelance writer Harry Gallon wrote about lounge singer Johnny Vegas in Guerilla #8.
Images from Anthony Bansfield's video Dreams of Power, 2002
