• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

RVA Mag

Richmond, VA Culture & Politics Since 2005

Menu RVA Mag Logo
  • community
  • MUSIC
  • ART
  • EAT DRINK
  • GAYRVA
  • POLITICS
  • PHOTO
  • EVENTS
  • MAGAZINE
RVA Mag Logo
  • About
  • Contact
  • Contributors
  • Sponsors

Poetry Meets Modeling With Richmond’s Tiffanie Brooke

S. Preston Duncan | March 19, 2020

Topics: art, instagram, modeling, photography, poetry, richmond va, RVA, RVA 39, Tiffanie Brooke

RVA #39 is on the streets now! Here’s another article from the issue, in which artist and poet Tiffanie Brooke reflects on modeling, writing, and the power of the human body in self-expression.

“We are more than the skin we crawl around in.” 

Let’s be honest: among the self-styled “Instapoets” of the world, often there isn’t more behind their words than vaguely-poetic interpretations of fortune cookies and phrases from motivational posters. And while it is wildly popular, whether or not it is authentically poetry could be up for debate. Exceptions to this generality are somewhat rare, but Richmond’s artist and poet Tiffanie Brooke is undeniably one of them. Her writing is both accessible and well-crafted, a refreshing combination in the literary world of stuffy academic writing and pandering to popularity.

Brooke is an alternative model and a deeply candid poet. Her work is evocative, both in front of the camera and on the page. It’s her juxtaposition of imagery that defines who she is as an artist, and it provides a window into her expressive dynamic of strength and unique vulnerability.

RVA Magazine’s R. Anthony Harris had a chance to talk with Brooke about her work, and explore the ideas that sparked her artistic beginnings.

PHOTO: Tiffanie Brooke by Charles Long, RVA 39

R. Anthony Harris:  How did your modeling begin?

Tiffanie Brooke:  I had a very negative outlook on my body when I was a teenager; I was super thin, I didn’t have a chest. My cheekbones jut out. My nose goes off in one direction. I consistently beat myself up… One day I came across America’s Next Top Model, and I became obsessed. I was seeing women that looked like I did, and they all had something about them that matched my “weird.” 

RAH:  How long have you been writing? 

TB:  I’ve been writing as long as I can remember. My brother and I were advised to write in those god-awful composition notebooks by counselors when we were very young. We grew up in a very confusing environment for two small children; I did not come from a communicative family. Writing was, and still is, my form of communication, though this non-direct writing has given me a safe way to express myself. 

RAH:  When did both of these ideas start to intertwine? 

TB:  They intertwined when Instagram became popular, honestly. I thought it was the perfect way to give my work a visual; to further push whatever I was writing about at the time. I wanted to give “selfies” another form, and transform how the imagery in my writing was supposed to look. Why not try to capture a visual of how I feel when I’m “in it,” versus a photo of something else entirely? After all, I’m writing about an experience and how it affects me.

RAH:  What writers do you draw inspiration from?

TB:  James Kavanaugh, Kris Kidd, Louis Gluck, Claudia Emerson, Jayne Pupek, and Richard Siken are a few that I obsess over when writer’s block settles in. Each one is immensely different in their writing types and points of view, but I sympathize with a lot of them. They all seem to capture the vastness of my personality traits.

RAH:  What about photographers?

TB:  I don’t have many photographers that I draw inspiration from, really. I enjoy Jason Lee Perry’s works — I read over a particular piece, and envision it as a movie with me in the middle of it: “What would this scene look like?” 

RAH:  Do you see modeling as a way for people to read your writings?

TB:  Modeling in itself is a form of communication, so absolutely! Saint Jerome said, “The face is the mirror of the mind, and the eyes, without speaking, confess the secrets of the heart.” Modeling and writing are both forms of expression, so it made sense for me to combine the two. Tacking onto what I’ve said before, we’re conditioned to choke down how we physically handle our emotions. I try to capture those emotions visually.

RAH:  Is your body a weapon or a tool?

TB:  Tough question. I am consistently working with, and against, my body. I think we all are, in some shape or form. 

RAH:  Is it a problem when trying to be taken seriously as an artist? 

TB:  There is a very fine line in the public eye — of owning your body, and being sexualized for exhibiting confidence — and that has nothing to do with being an artist. It’s hard being a woman in any industry. Shit, it’s hard being a woman, period. Most of my modeling used for my writing is nude. It’s not an attention thing at all, but more to push that vulnerability of here I am, in all that I am. Clothes are character-building, and we aren’t entirely truthful with ourselves until the veil of that day-to-day character is removed. Unfortunately, because of my comfort in that, I am often looked at as an object… and it stops there. 

RAH:  What does objectification mean to you? 

TB:  Taking something at face value, without intent to find out the inner workings of an individual. 

RAH:  Do you objectify other people?

TB:  Not all the time, and not on purpose. Sometimes I have to force myself to. I am a very deep person; I spend a lot of time in my head. If I didn’t push myself to draw a line with someone that is bouncing around too much mentally, I’d be miserable. We all have individual ways of processing relationships with others, and sometimes it comes down to what we find works best for us. I have a tendency to switch off my feelings for someone completely, and that’s typically where I end up objectifying. 

RAH:  Is it demeaning, or are people just looking for a quick way to understand another person? 

TB:  When I write about a specific person, I don’t use names as to not intentionally hurt or demean someone. I always give individuals code names, and honestly I think it makes some pieces more mysterious and puzzling. I like that about poetry. That said, resonation is such an important factor in any type of writing — we are all looking to be understood in some way. Music and writing are excellent ways to fill that void of alienation.

RAH:  I have to ask about the Yoda tattoo. Do you love his wisdom, or are you just a super nerd? 

TB:  The Yoda tattoo began as a tribute to my relationship with my dad. There aren’t many positive memories attached to him when I think back on my childhood, except for our shared TV time. He got me into Star Wars when I was really young, and we’d watch the series over and over, weekly. Maybe for him, it was one of the few things we could do together that I wasn’t talking his ear off, but that I walked away from with an adoration for a fantasy world I wanted to find myself in. We didn’t expect there to be sequels, but it’s a relief to have something we can continue to connect on.

RAH:  What do you hope people understand about your work? 

TB:  I am so much more than a “half-naked girl on Instagram.” There is always more than meets the surface; everyone is where they are because of an experience that set them there. If we all took a little more time to understand each other at more than face value, we would come to know that we are more than the skin we crawl around in. Writing is free, and always available. Whether pen-to-paper or in the notepad on a cell phone, the ability to set our inner workings out in one way or another is incredibly healthy — and important. You never know how much your experiences can aid another person’s until you make yourself vulnerable. 

Intro by S. Preston Duncan. Interview by R. Anthony Harris.  

Angelica Garcia: Latinx Pop from Coast to Coast

RVA Staff | March 17, 2020

Topics: angelica garcia, events in richmond va, events richmond va, indie, latin pop, latinx, music, richmond events, richmond va, richmond va bands, RVA, RVA 39, rva magazine weekend playlist, things to do richmond va, Weekend Playlist

RVA #39 is on the streets now! Here’s another article from the issue, in which Reggie Pace catches up with Angelica Garcia: Richmond’s Latinx star emerging for her widely-loved Latin Pop/Indie sound.

Angelica Garcia is a bold vocalist. Her voice — forged in ancestral Latinx culture and the raging kilns of danceable pop — commands not just attention, but motion. With more shove than invitation, and more strength than seduction, there’s a quality of anthemic pride to her sonic presence. It’s contagious, and you are not immune. Just don’t try to fit it into any preconceived parameters of what ethnic pop music is supposed to sound like. 

“I know this is probably just another stupid musician perspective,” said Garcia, “but doesn’t it feel like genres are sometimes like, ‘Hey, here’s another way to stereotype this?’”

While she notes that certain bands are more purist in regards to the genres they fit into, Garcia has found that less concrete adjectives are more effective to describe her music.

“I’ll say, ‘Video game. Nightclub of doom.’ Adjectives, nouns… [It’s helpful to be] more open with visuals when you talk about music.”

Garcia’s boldness isn’t limited to her voice. Her first album, Karma the Knife, was released by Warner Music Group. Shortly after, she decided to take creative control of her career and leave the label.

Here in Richmond, Garcia has been working with a diverse cross-section of acts including Russell Lacy, Mikrowaves, and Piranha Rama. Recently signed to Spacebomb Records, the visual artist, songwriter, and L.A. transplant is gearing up for the February 2020 release of her second album, Cha Cha Palace. For Garcia, making music is all about community.

“I’ve been doing a one-woman show for a while, just because it makes sense for traveling. But when I do play with the band, it’s awesome,” she said.

The band includes a variety of leading local musicians, including pianist Calvin Presents, aka Calvin Brown, as well as Josh McCormick on drums and John Sizemore and Chrissie Lozano of Piranha Rama on guitar and bass, respectively. With these musicians involved, Garcia has found a new “family bubble” filled with distinct voices. 

“Putting together my band was like putting together my own Justice League,” Garcia said. “It’s been great, and a lot of them have that same spirit and mentality of community, and everybody helping each other. That’s what helped make this album. That’s why it sounds the way it does.”

For a West Coast native living in Richmond, community takes on different forms. Garcia’s roadmap seems to hit all the stops.

“[My mother] was a pop singer in the 90s,” she said. “When she broke out, she had a charted hit on Billboard. It was a remake of ‘Angel Baby.’ [What] started her off when she was gigging was her tours of high schools. She said, ‘You totally need to do this.’ One of her friends worked for the El Monte School District where I grew up in L.A. We were able to set up one show, and once you have one, you can go to another school. It just became a big tour. It’s so funny playing for kids.”

Garcia played six or seven schools, navigating questionable sound equipment and audiences that were, at times, a bit less receptive than Richmond’s music scene. Some shows happened for school assemblies, and others were less organized — at one school, Garcia’s team sent a list of her equipment, and she arrived to find only one wireless mic. 

“The speakers were blown out. I had to go into the soundboard and hook it up in the auditorium, and all these middle schoolers were watching me,” Garcia said. “I was sweating so hard. That’s the thing; it’s like kids read fear. You can’t hide. Then, of course, the looper is so temperamental. It was coming out really crunchy-sounding, and there was one kid saying, ‘My ears hurt!’ [laughs].

“It’s funny because kids are so blunt. And whereas an adult would say, ‘Great job!’ Kids are going to say, ‘What’s that? What are you doing?’ And it made me think, what am I doing? I need to be able to talk about this. Why is it loud? Why is this important? But the ones that really cared, it was super sweet. And it was special.” 

Garcia says that playing solo shows, for judgmental high school students and the quietly-critical adults alike, has been a process of learning. She’s balanced her presence as a singer with an overwhelming ambition for musicality. 

“I want to recreate as much as I can,” she said. “I do have to be careful, because once you start doing a bunch, it’s easy to forget, ‘Oh, yeah, I’m a singer. And I better fucking sing this right.’ I’ve got to do a good job. When you’re worried about the feedback and and the loop, the sampler and the gate, then you’re not paying attention to how you’re singing.” 

With a European tour in the works and a YouTube video for her recent single “Jicama” steadily climbing towards 100,000 views, it would seem Garcia has found that balance. Not just between instrumentation and singing, but between the cultural backgrounds that comprise her identity. It’s essential, Garcia says, to all the creative work she puts out. 

“I started something called #WearYourRoots. The reason you probably didn’t see it more is because I’m not a very good hashtagger.” Garcia laughed. “It came from my song, ‘Jicama.’ It talks about a dichotomy — growing up in two cultures and having one foot in each world. I realized the reason I leaned in so much to my Latinidad, the Latinx side of my identity, was that I felt I missed the most of it growing up and living in L.A.” 

Always being surrounded by the food and the Spanish language in L.A., Garcia realized in Richmond that she felt lonely and isolated. 

“[I was] homesick,” she said. “’Where my people at? And also, what does that mean? …What does that look like? And what do I do, blend in? I’m from Los Angeles, but all my blood is Latina. My dad’s from Mexico, and my grandparents are Mexican and Salvadoran. But I’ve been in Virginia for almost 10 years now. They’re both home.”  

Her new album, Cha Cha Palace, which comes out at the end of February, lies between both worlds for Garcia. The album spans her experiences from L.A. and Richmond, finding a middle point in life that reaches each piece of herself. 

“A lot of Cha Cha Palace was piecing together memories of my childhood, and trying to connect with my grandparents, their lineage, and their background,” Garcia said. “It was also redefining what it means to be Latina; how do I delve into my Latinidad, what does that look like on me? I know what it looks like on my mom, my grandparents. What does it look like when I wear it? That’s an interesting thing, too — in L.A., I didn’t have to think about that. I showed up to the club, and everyone was there. It hit me that if I want to connect to my roots, I have to actively choose to be a part of it, connect with my community and create art to honor it in this way.” 

While working to reconcile these influences on her life, Garcia drew inspiration not only from her elders, but her younger siblings. 

“This is a really special record to me. The entire time, I thought of my siblings — particularly my sisters — and what I want them to hear. I hear the kind of music they put on the radio, and my sister Valeria is 17 years old,” Garcia said. “She’s so brutal. She’ll say, ‘I can’t dance to this. Not gonna listen to it.’ She’s heard all my demos first. I played her the first draft and she said, ‘Yeah, I need to dance to it more.’”  

At 25, Garcia isn’t consulting teenage relatives for youthful relevance, but rather out of a sense of familial responsibility. For her, the goal is that they’ll be able to put her music on a playlist with other things they enjoy, and that it uplifts them in the process, telling their story. As for the prospect of wider appeal, Garcia isn’t eschewing it. Instead, she embraces it in terms of a higher calling. 

“It’s such a unique and sacred opportunity that people get to hear your music,” she said. “They’re repeating what you’re saying. They’re singing along. To me, that’s a really sacred bond. So I kept thinking, what do I want them to repeat?” 

If family comes first, the chosen family of the Richmond music scene is a close second. Garcia sees Cha Cha Palace as the culmination of finding her place in the local community, and employing that community in a fuller expression of her unique artistic vision. 

“I picked everybody that played on this,” she said. “This is the Mikrowaves fam. This is the Piranha Rama fam. Even the restaurant fam is in here, from 8 ½. That’s so special. Making my first record, I showed up to this world class studio. Big producer. It sounds really great, but everybody he called in were people that he knew, because I didn’t know anybody in Nashville. So it’s very special to me that I got to pick everybody this time.” 

This dedication to stylistic direction is apparent before you hit play on the album. The cover is a photograph of the sprawling collage on her bedroom wall. 

“It started off as just a few pictures,” Garcia said. “I noticed as the album was progressing, the collage got bigger and bigger.”  

As a visual person, she loves textures — everything from picking colors to mixed media, and blending the old with the new. The pictures that line her room act as a metaphor for Cha Cha Palace. 

“The way this album was made, it was almost like a giant collage,” Garcia said. “Some of the songs were tracked in Eddie [Prendergast]’s shed. ‘Karma’ was tracked at Montrose [Recordings]. James [Seretis] tracked some, too, [at Virginia] Moonwalker [Studio]. It was done in all these different spaces; I started working on it before I was signed to Spacebomb. I officially signed towards the end of making it, and they helped me tie some loose ends together, getting it mixed and mastered. Up until then, it was like, ‘I’ll come after my restaurant shift, then I’ll come record at James’s house until midnight, then I’ve got to go. I have to work brunch in the morning.” 

As for what’s next, Garcia says that’s less a matter of direction than organic evolution. What’s certain is that it’s bound to be an honest expression of whoever she comes to be. 

“It’s almost like my spooky disco-femme self made this,” she said. “It was cool getting to be her for a while. She is me and I am her, and we’re very connected. It’s cool to have it documented, because I don’t know what the next version of her is going to be.” 

Words by S. Preston Duncan. Interview by Reggie Pace. Photos by Myles Katherine & Lauren Serpa.

Inside The Studio with JR Da Rapper

Hip Hop Henry | March 13, 2020

Topics: 96 Degrees, Esco, JR Da Rapper, Poverty Crew, RVA 39, RVA Rap Elite, Vonton Soup, WRIR

RVA #39 is on the streets now! Here’s another article from the issue, in which JR Da Rapper and Esco of The Poverty Crew in Richmond sit down with Hip Hop Henry to talk new mixtapes, telling stories through music, and future full-flow albums.

In the earlier days of RVA Rap Elite, when Strange Matter still hosted the RVA Lyricist Lounge, I remember being onstage during an open Cypher Session when someone struck my eye. 

He walked on stage in a plain white tee and jeans, and looked unassuming at first. He caught the entire room off guard, both everyone on stage and in the audience, with some of the best lines of the evening — and made it to the sudden death round of the Cypher Championship. His name was JR Da Rapper. When he left the stage for the second time, I remember shaking his hand and telling him, “You have to come back.” He never did.

Fast forward to the RVA Rap Elite show on September 25 at the Dark Room, and he’s back in the building. This time, he’s here as one of the headline performers, doing tracks from his mixtape 96 Degrees, and his name is on the flyer. I had the chance to talk with him about new music, what he’s been up to in the time between those two Rap Elite appearances, and how that first performance boosted his desire to make music with younger performers from the city’s Northside. The Poverty Crew consists of himself, Vonton Soup, and Esco, who works behind-the-scenes. I brought JR and Esco to the WRIR studio in Richmond, where we could sit down and have a quick rap overlooking Broad Street. 

Hip Hop Henry: So what exactly is The Poverty Crew? 

Esco: Poverty isn’t just a record label. It’s a movement that’s [using] music to bring something greater to the city. We’re tapped into local politics to know what’s going on, because at the end of the day, it’s our city. We’re fighting for a better city. It’s not a music group out here to make a bunch of money and flex on people. It’s more than that.

HHH: JR, how did you and Esco meet?

JR: Vonton and I are cousins, we grew up together. I was rapping in elementary school, but I was the only one rapping. I took a break when I got to high school and moved to a different school, I hadn’t seen him for a minute. Von ended up moving around my way, and we started linking back up. They had a studio at their crib, and they were rapping now — so I said, “Damn, niggas remember me as the rapper, and now y’all have a studio at the crib. Y’all are freestyling every day.” So I started going over there, getting situated again, and that’s where I met Esco.

Esco: Vonton was saying his cousin rapped. I blew him off, because everybody wanted to come in and rap — half of the hood would come. People would come from Fulton to Northside just to rap. I think I walked in one day, and JR was freestyling. I said, “Man he hard, that’s your cousin? Tell him to come back over.” He wasn’t really trying to come back, but I said “You need to get him back over here, he needs to keep coming.”

HHH: Not showing back up reminds me of his Strange Matter performance when I first saw him. How did that appearance in the Cypher happen to begin with?

JR: That was my first performance. That was the first time I really ever rapped in front of niggas I didn’t know. I was already thinking, “Eh, I wonder how motherfuckers that aren’t around me every day are going to feel.” That reaction was definitely what I needed to take it seriously. People really fucked with me, genuinely. I needed to start going to a studio — when I rapped at Rap Elite, I had still never been to a real studio. You know what I’m saying? We do our little shit at the crib. We might make a dub tape, throw some plugins here and there to make it listenable… but I had never been to a studio and published a record out.

HHH: What I notice in your music is that you have a street style, but you can do the lyrical music as well. Where did the balance in styles come from?

JR: I’ve thought about this a hundred times. I know I can rhyme… But at the end of the day, I rap for me. A lot of people will give you bullshit excuses that they rap for the fans, the money, all that. When I first started rapping, it was a way for me to vent; to talk about shit I can’t talk about — because like any nigga in the hood, you look weak when you start talking about certain things. The only way I could get certain things off my chest was to rap. [If] you fuck with my raps, you’re saying you fuck with me as a person. That’s how I take it. 

Esco: I think it was also a journey because at first, it wasn’t always like that. When he first came back to the studio, he was leaning more toward trap and street music, but you could always see the talent. It wasn’t basic ABC trap music. I think as he started to find this — his flow and sound — it all developed. We always have talks that we strive for greatness, right? You play the game like a pro. Somebody like Kendrick, he’s playing the game to be the best. Not everybody plays the game, and that’s cool. Some people rap like Dom Kennedy. He’s not really rapping to be the best, but he’s dope.

HHH: You have a buzzing video for “Real Niggas” right now. What’s in store for the new year? Or is that just a loose single?

JR: That’s just a loosie. On my next project, I’ll probably do some mixtapes. I won’t do an actual album until I get a little bit further toward where I want to be, with more listeners. When I do my first album, I want to tell a story.. something you’ll be listening to 20 years from now. I want it to be timeless, not hot right then and there. I want something that people can go back to 20 years later and say, “You remember when this came out? I used to listen to this every day.” We’re going to do skits, and I like that album flow, full songs. I’m not a stream seller. I want it to be quality music; it puts you in a space.

Esco: We’re here to play like the pros play it. We aim for longevity.

—-

Be on the lookout for more singles from JR in the coming months. 96 Degrees is streaming on all platforms.

Top Photo by Kathryn DeFrank

Humble, A Street Artist

S. Preston Duncan | March 12, 2020

Topics: Chris Tsui, fashion designers, Fat Dragon, Foo Dog, Giovanna Cordero, Humble, Lamplighter, modeling, Modelogic, muralists, Navid Rahman, Need Supply Co., RVA 39, RVA Threads, street art, Studio Two Three, Totokaelo, Veilance

RVA Magazine #39 is on the streets now! In this article from its pages, Humble, Richmond’s longtime muralist, clothing designer, and model, reflects on his journey from starving artist to modeling for professional shoots in the desert.

Listen to the Radio RVA Podcast Interview with Humble here.

Humbleness isn’t exactly a native concept in the fashion world. In the popular mythos of the “Starving Artist,” there’s rarely a tenement devoted to bedless clothing designers sleeping on a pile of blankets and ambition. But then, Richmond’s Kyle Harrell — better known as Humble — doesn’t quite fit in the glossy fashion box hawked by Hollywood scripts and reality television. 

That’s partially because Humble is a catalyst of artistic vision. Muralist, model, clothing designer, and event coordinator, he takes creativity as an articulation of Creative Class culture. He brings disparate sources of inspiration together into an identifiable expression of experience and taste. But the Virginia Beach native didn’t grow up on aerosol dreams or lofty runway aspirations. 

“The goal was to go to VCU, because I wanted to be an engineer. As soon as I got here, though, the culture was crazy. So I thought, ‘Fuck engineering. I don’t wanna do that,’” he said. “I started [studying] psychology and religious studies. I’ve been in Richmond for 11 years now, I fell in love with this city. We were hosting a lot of events, so I kind of got stuck here. ‘Stuck,’ not in a bad way — I just love this city so damn much.” 

Image via thisisnothumble.com

It wasn’t just Richmond’s underground music and art scene that kept him here, but the culturally-inclusive environment that encouraged Humble to carve out a name for himself by way of social immersion. 

Humble says his interest in art came about in a Van Gogh and Spirituality course at VCU. And it wasn’t so much the coursework as boredom; one day he started drawing portraits of his classmates. By the time he graduated, he found his priorities shifting. 

“Eventually that became obsessive. Around that time, I was married,” he said. “I had been playing around with the idea with her, that I wanted to make art. And she said, ‘You’re too smart to make art. You could do something better.’” 

The two had a falling out, and Humble spent 12 hours a day in the VCU library, pulling down books and drawing everything he could get his hands on. He also found himself divorced and living in Section 8 housing.

“Art was the only thing I had that was inspiring me to get up and do something,” he said. “It was a pretty depressive point in my life. It was tough, but it was for the better.”

Image via thisisnothumble.com

Around that time, Humble found commiseration and mentorship in Navid Rahman, an illustrator and muralist willing to share in poverty and inspiration. He moved into Humble’s apartment, where the two slept on the floor and practiced drawing. 

“That moment in time was definitely pivotal. Navid had just gotten out of a relationship. He was an artist as well,” Humble said. “In fact, I call him my master. He took me under his wing. So [he lived with me] free of charge… We’d wake up every day and just draw. He taught me a lot. He [wasn’t afraid to] say, ‘Yo, that looks like shit. Do it again.’ He’s definitely one of my best friends.”

Humble began to reconstruct himself from rock bottom. He emerged from a landscape of broken relationships and bank accounts, as a designer with credible life experience and a compelling narrative arc. None of this would have happened without Rahman, who brought him in on a mural project for the Lamplighter on Addison. The two spent the better part of a week pulling all-nighters while putting the piece up in the bathroom.

“I would work a double at Alamo, drive across that damn Leigh Street Bridge, and we’d stay up until 6 or 7am, then I’d go back to work,” Humble said. “It was all his art direction and style. I was laying down lines, but that sparked something. It lived in the space.” 

That project was what made Humble decide to take his work in a larger direction. Together with Rahman, he strived to find more work and create a portfolio as a foundation for their careers.

“From there, I started reaching out to mad people. At the time, I didn’t know how to paint. I had never played with color,” he said. “We were doing black and white stuff, and that’s when I switched to painting. I met up with Chris Tsui, who owns Fat Dragon and Foo Dog. He set us up on our next piece, which ended up being huge.”

Up to this point, Humble had never touched spray paint. He and Rahman mapped out a mural spanning the side of the Fat Dragon building, and improvised their vision for it. They completed it with little more than a mental image and an electric lift. 

“We didn’t really know what we were doing at the time. Chris was cool about it, too,” Humble said. “We did a giant anime dragon on that wall. It’s different, and not a lot of people are into that. From there, our next gig was Foo Dog. We did the patio; the giant anime girl with chopsticks and the dragon coming out. That was the start of it — so our street art and painting, in general, has gone about five years strong.” 

Image via thisisnothumble.com

It was during this formative whirlwind of creative development that Humble began designing and manufacturing clothes, on an almost-literal shoestring budget. His target demographic consisted of the Richmond skate and music scene denizens who attended his parties. He saw it as a way to make money from his art and promote his work. 

“Learning how to screen print, I started out in the bathroom at my house, exposing [prints] in the sun. It was chaos,” Humble said. “From there, I worked with RVA Threads, who had a screen printing studio in his basement. He took me under his wing and showed me how to do everything.”

When Humble went to Studio Two Three to start making clothing, the time came to find a name for his clothing brand. He still remembers the conversation with Rahman that would eventually define the company.

“Navid said, ‘You should call it Humble. People call you humble about the fact that you’re doing this, but you’re doing it low key. You’ve got talent, but you don’t really flash it.’”

While he was selling shirts at house shows, an underground fashion scene began to emerge. Separate from the institutional culture at VCU, these DIY designers developed a collaborative environment that led to an unforeseen shift in Humble’s trajectory. 

“At Studio Two Three, that’s when my homie Chase Beasley (of Crud City) was kicking around. He was just starting up art as well; I was teaching him how to screen print. Earl Mack with Chilalay was in the studio. So we’re buzzing around, sharing ideas. We were doing underground fashion shows, building these runways,” Humble said. “It was crazy how much people were willing to put these things together. We had no idea what we were doing, because none of us were part of the school. Our fashion shows were ridiculous — but people showed up, and then we partied our asses off. That energy, now that I think back on it, was very, very alive. There was always something to do every weekend, and it had something to do with art, music, fashion. We were doing a lot, especially for that community at the time.”

During those early days at Studio Two Three, Humble’s interest in fashion deepened — until, as fate would have it, an opportunity presented itself at Lamplighter. 

“I was sitting outside smoking a cigarette, and this blonde girl came up to me and said, ‘Hey, do you live in Richmond? You’ve got a good look. I would love for you to come by the studio and take some test shots.’” 

Image via thisisnothumble.com

Having never thought of himself as a model, he agreed to pose for a shoot to generate income. Without even knowing the photographer’s name, he eventually learned that the gig was for Richmond’s own Need Supply Co.

“I was nervous. I’m a humble dude, I don’t see myself in front of the camera. I still don’t,” he said. “It’s still always weird to me… But I went, and they started booking me all the time. They were flying photographers from L.A. to shoot me here in Richmond. And they were paying me out the ass.” 

While modeling for Need Supply Co.’s lookbooks, Humble connected with modeling agent Giovanna Cordero, who transferred to the agency Modelogic shortly after. The two kept in touch when the Need Supply Co. shoots died down.

“I focused on my art career for a while, then Gio hit me back up to say, ‘Hey, I’ve got this gig I think you’re perfect for.’ Ends up being Totokaelo. Super high fashion stuff,” he said. “I’ve been working with them for a couple years now, and they’re incredible. Eventually Modelogic got privy, so I got signed. I’ve been doing gigs in Baltimore, New York, down here. The money is insane. It’s what’s kept me in there — it’s given me a look at the fashion industry that I wouldn’t have had access to otherwise. Seeing how things work, how to do photoshoots, garment instruction, what you can really do with fashion. It’s limitless.” 

A few months later, a small company reached out over Instagram. They turned out to be Veilance, a subsidiary of the Canadian high-end outdoor clothing and sporting goods company, Arc’teryx. 

“My agent calls me and she says, ‘Hey, they want to fly you out to Utah, pay for everything, pay you 4k per diem. You’ll be out there for four days.’ It was insane,” he said. “The first time I’ve ever been flown out anywhere for something like that, and we had private chefs catering for us.” 

The shoot was staged in the middle of the desert, “where NASA tests land rovers for Mars,” Humble said. He was the only American there.

“There was a guy from Russia, an incredible model-looking dude. I thought, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ There was a famous photographer from France that shoots futuristic technology stuff, and the whole crew is from Canada where Arc’teryx is based,” Humble said. “The hairdresser is good friends with Kanye. We’re all sitting around this table in the middle of the desert, sharing stories, and I’m just starstruck. I had taken a step away from clothing, especially creating, and over the past couple years I’ve been coming back into it through modeling, being re-inspired.” 

Image via thisisnothumble.com

True to his name, none of this has gone to his head. Humble’s plan now is to continue working with his community in mutually supportive, innovative ways; figuring out upon what great walls — both physical and allegorical — they may together make their mark. 

“I see it metaphorically as walking through the dark with a candle,” he said. “You are the light. You don’t know where you’re going. You might be blazing the way, but mostly it’s a crapshoot, because there are no answers to any of this. There’s no methodology that will make you successful. Just keep working, keep your head down, keep producing dope shit, and help your homies as much as you can. Help everyone as much as you can. I think that’s a really big thing, working together in the scene.” 

Top Photo via Humble/Instagram

RVA Magazine #39 Is Out Now!

RVA Staff | March 5, 2020

Topics: angelica garcia, craft beer RVA, Esco, Humble, j roddy walston, JR Da Rapper, Kelli Strawbridge, Poverty Crew, print magazine, Reggie Pace, RVA 39, rva print mags, Tiffanie Brooke

Don’t look now, but the latest issue of RVA Magazine just hit town, and we’re kicking off our 15th year in operation with a real banger! Full of the city’s best street-level culture, you’ll learn everything you need to know about what’s hot in the River City for the first year of the 20s and beyond.

PHOTO: J. Roddy Walston, RVA 39

We begin by continuing the conversation around our always-fruitful music scene, as No BS! Brass Band’s Reggie Pace returns to our pages to keep us updated on the activities of local singer extraordinaire Angelica Garcia as she releases her second LP, Cha Cha Palace. Meanwhile, The Hustle Season’s own Kelli Strawbridge gets the scoop on the next step for local luminary J. Roddy Walston as he puts his long-running Business on the back burner in favor of some exciting new projects.

PHOTO: Angelica Garcia, RVA 39

But that’s not all! Oh, far from it. We’re also getting the lowdown on the daily life of a model turned poet from Tiffanie Brooke, who has verses aplenty for your thirsty eyes. Meanwhile, street artist turned model Humble reveals the secrets of his path to fashion stardom, and Hip Hop Henry gets the word from JR Da Rapper and Esco of RVA’s Poverty Crew. Plus we’ve got all the up-to-the-minute coverage of local culture you’ve come to expect from us, from art and music to craft brew and foodie delights.

PHOTO: JR Da Rapper & Esco, RVA 39

Dive in, and experience all that RVA #39 has to offer, by grabbing a copy from one of our many partners around the city — but get out there quick, because they won’t last long!

Check out the digital version on Issuu here.

Find your copy of RVA Magazine #39 at these local partner locations:

Ellwood Thompson’s

Plan 9 Records

Deep Groove Records

Capital Market

Strawberry Street Market

Urban Farmhouse — Shockoe Bottom

Urban Farmhouse — Scott’s Addition

VMFA

Carytown Tobacco — Carytown

Carytown Tobacco — Broad Street

Carytown Tobacco — Shockoe Bottom

Robinson Market

Sheppard Street Market

Whole Foods

Richmond Visitor Center

Mekong/Answer

Lamplighter — Addison St.

Shockoe Market

Union Market

Stella’s Grocery

Hardywood Park Craft Brewery

Triple Crossing Beer — Fulton

Stir Crazy

Garden Grove Brewing & Urban Winery

Galley Market

Brewer’s Cafe

Cafe Cattura

Libby Market

Black Hand Coffee — Museum District

Sugar & Twine

The Camel

Rumors

sidebar

sidebar-alt

Copyright © 2021 · RVA Magazine on Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in

Close

    Event Details

    Please fill out the form below to suggest an event to us. We will get back to you with further information.


    OR Free Event

    CONTACT: [email protected]