The Power of Truth

CELEBRATED MULTIDISCIPLINARY ARTIST SAUL WILLIAMS SPEAKS ON HIS UPCOMING PERFORMANCE AT MASS MOCA

By Benjamin Lerner

BY ANDREW GURA

Poet, rapper, actor, writer, and filmmaker Saul Williams will take the stage at MASS MoCA’s Hunter Center on Saturday, May 24, to celebrate the opening of groundbreaking artist Vincent Valdez’s exhibition, Just a Dream… Both Williams and Valdez use their respective art forms—music, poetry, film, and visual art—to examine contemporary sociopolitical landscapes and provoke dialogue around issues of identity, justice, systemic racism, and societal transformation. 

Williams captured the world’s attention as the Grand Slam Champion of Nuyorican Poets Cafe in 1996 and later starred in the 1998 independent film Slam and the 2013 jukebox musical Holler If Ya Hear Me. His artistic vision, marked by fierce honesty and uncompromising exploration, has resonated globally through powerful performances and musical collaborations with luminaries such as Trent Reznor, Rick Rubin, and Erykah Badu. Williams also channels his fierce artistry into films like the Afrofuturist project Neptune Frost. Released in 2021, the film portrays a revolutionary future set in a fictionalized version of Burundi, where hackers rise against oppressive systems. Through its visionary narrative of resistance and transformation, the film beautifully illustrates Williams’ unwavering dedication to provocative and revolutionary creative expression. 

Through its exploration of American political and social realities, Valdez’s exhibition at MASS MoCA features more than two decades of bold and evocative visual work, complementing Williams’ multidisciplinary approach. Chief Curator Denise Markonish highlights the synergy between the two artists: “Both Vincent and Saul unflinchingly interrogate the politics of the United States and the world, confronting all the beauty and pain that entails.” Markonish, who also collaborated with Valdez on the 2019 MASS MoCA exhibition Suffering From Realness, emphasizes the alignment of their work with the museum’s broader programming. She highlights Valdez’s powerful trilogy, The Beginning is Near, which juxtaposes images of the Ku Klux Klan in The City with portrayals of resilience in The New Americans. Markonish underscores Valdez and Williams’ shared commitment to confronting difficult truths, quoting Valdez directly about the nature of his art: “I am an observer. I bear witness. I am committed to putting it down on record to testify.” Together, their work provides an immersive, thought-provoking experience, proving the power of art as a transformative force. In anticipation of his upcoming performance, Williams sat down to discuss the intersection of his personal journey, artistry, and creative vision.

Lerner: You’ve described your work as existing at the intersection of music, poetry, and activism. How has music allowed you to explore your ideological identity?

Williams: I think it’s fair to say that a lot of my ideological identity was formed by music itself. I grew up in the ’80s and ’90s in New York, witnessing the growth and success of hip-hop at a critical stage. A lot of the artists—perhaps, unlike where the genre is today—were primarily looking at the art form as a way of voicing truth in regards to being a part of a disenfranchised people. Music offered a critical gaze on society. And I’m not only talking about the text, about what was said, but the music itself. When you think of early Public Enemy and music at that time, it defied what even many people classified as music. With the sampling of records, the placement of the drums, and the use of noise and distortion and sirens, they found a way to aid listeners in visualizing the realities of the ’hood. It’s important to state that format and structure of the music itself forced us to move in new ways, think in new ways, and respond in new ways. All of these things heightened my confidence in terms of what was possible in terms of expression. 

Music doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and it didn’t in my life either. My father was a pastor of a church. I grew up in a church where there’s a history of the role that blues and gospel played, as being the only safe space for enslaved Africans. A lot of the songs there were covered with a sort of faithful gaze on overcoming a system. It went deeper within the idea of religion by placing it in something that was also about aiding the structural collapse of an unjust system. I also found that to be the case with theater. I decided I wanted to act when I was eight years old. The first play I did was Julius Caesar. I played Mark Antony. Again, you have questions revolving around power, integrity, and justice. So, for me, the first art that ever sincerely touched and excited me was very much critiquing power structures. It helped me find my voice and my understanding of the role that art could play. Through it all, there was a distinction to be made between what might be categorized as entertainment and the role of art. Entertainment often provides an escape, and that’s fine. But the art that moved me—whether hip-hop or theater—was not about escaping reality, but engaging the viewer or listener to confront reality. Artists, thinkers, and revolutionaries through time have left breadcrumbs for us, saying, “This is the struggle. I’m not going to accomplish it all in my lifetime. I’m going to need you to pick it up from here.” The more you gather from what has already been done, the more you’ll apply it to take it further. When I was in third grade and told my parents I wanted to be an actor, my dad said he’d support me if I got a law degree. But my mom suggested I do my next school report on Paul Robeson, who was an actor, lawyer, activist, and singer. From then, I studied artists who used their platforms to speak to their times—Bob Marley, Kurt Cobain, Nina Simone—artists who didn’t align their work with escape, but with engagement. They formed my relationship to art across all mediums, teaching me the necessity of critical thinking in art.

Lerner: Your performance at MASS MoCA coincides with Vincent Valdez’s exhibition, which also critiques American political structures, systemic racism, and societal issues. How do you see the role of institutions like MASS MoCA in supporting provocative, socially conscious art?

Williams: That type of programming is crucial. That’s where art-based institutions play their exact role. Institutions serve artists best when they open doors for those offering a critical gaze on power structures, raising essential questions, and provoking audiences to think deeply, even uncomfortably. As artists, however, we regularly face complex choices about partnerships because institutions are often embedded within larger power structures. My role as an artist often involves challenging these systems from within, using the platform to amplify critical messages. I believe that institutions avoiding this role by making safe choices rather than powerful ones are missing their purpose. Institutions have to take risks, even if it challenges their financial standing or risks upsetting potential investors. As I’ve said, my approach is to selectively engage with organizations genuinely committed to amplifying challenging and essential dialogues, recognizing that true artistic integrity sometimes demands turning down opportunities that compromise core principles. True artistic power lies in engaging audiences critically and meaningfully. An institution playing its role properly should inspire deep experiences—moments when people leave changed, forever altered by what they experienced. Every artistic encounter holds that potential—and all institutions must embrace this responsibility to foster meaningful dialogue, despite the discomfort it might provoke.

Lerner: Your critically acclaimed film project, Neptune Frost, explores metaphorically ‘hacking’ oppressive systems. How does this relate to your current artistic practice and your upcoming performance?

Williams: Art, be it music, film, or poetry, should challenge norms and provoke critical thought. Currently, I’m exploring new collaborations and performances, notably with producer and musician Carlos Niño, who is an old friend. He recently produced André 3000’s solo album, New Blue Sun. Carlos has maintained beautiful relationships with a number of extremely interesting musicians. He has a gift of bringing them together, and we’ll be bringing a group of those musicians with us to our upcoming MASS MoCA performance. Our improvisational performances embrace risk and spontaneity, aligning with the same spirit I’ve always pursued—breaking barriers, exploring unknown artistic spaces, and pushing creative boundaries. Our recent collaboration at a beautiful outdoor concert at TreePeople in Los Angeles felt deeply special—so much so that we might soon release it as an album. At MASS MoCA, Niño and I are going to be taking those risks together, inviting the audience into this organic, improvisational ceremony. It’s deeply exciting because none of us know exactly where it will lead. We just jump off the cliff together.