Jean-Michel Basquiat was one of the most influential artists to emerge from New York City during the late twentieth century. Born on December 22, 1960, in Brooklyn, New York, he transformed his experiences growing up in the city into a distinctive artistic language that combined painting, poetry, history, music, and social commentary. His work explored Black identity, racism, power, and the experiences of people whose stories had often been overlooked by mainstream institutions. Although his career lasted only a few years, Basquiat left a lasting mark on contemporary art.

Basquiat grew up in a family that exposed him to several cultural influences. His father, Gérard Basquiat, was born in Haiti, while his mother, Matilde Andrades, was born in New York to Puerto Rican parents. Through his parents, Jean-Michel was connected to Haitian, Puerto Rican, and broader Caribbean cultural traditions. Growing up in Brooklyn, he experienced the diversity of New York City, where different languages, communities, musical styles, and artistic expressions existed side by side. These influences would later become visible in his paintings, which frequently incorporated historical references, handwritten words, and symbols.

His mother played an important role in encouraging his early interest in art. Matilde recognized her son’s artistic ability and introduced him to museums, books, and cultural experiences. One important childhood event occurred when Basquiat was seven years old and was struck by a car while playing in the street. During his recovery, his mother gave him a copy of Gray’s Anatomy, a medical reference book that illustrated the human body in considerable detail. Its anatomical drawings influenced his lifelong interest in skeletons, skulls, and the internal structures of the human body. These images later became recurring features in his artwork.

Basquiat was one of four children born to Gérard and Matilde, although the family had experienced the loss of an older son before his birth. He had two younger sisters, Lisane and Jeanine, with whom he shared his early family life. His parents eventually separated, and his mother experienced periods of serious personal difficulties that affected the family. These circumstances formed part of a complicated childhood that included both encouragement and hardship. Although his family relationships were not always easy, his mother’s early support for his artistic interests remained an important influence on his development.

Basquiat’s upbringing was also shaped by language and cultural diversity. He grew up speaking English, French, and Spanish, reflecting the backgrounds of his parents and the environment in which he was raised. In 1974, his family moved to Puerto Rico for a period before returning to Brooklyn in 1976. These experiences exposed him to different cultural perspectives and helped establish the broad historical and cultural interests that later appeared in his work. His paintings often included words and references drawn from different languages, histories, and communities, creating a visual expression of his multicultural identity.

As a teenager, Basquiat became increasingly connected to Manhattan’s downtown art and music scenes. He eventually left home and supported himself through various activities, including selling handmade postcards and painted T-shirts. Along with his friend Al Diaz, he began creating cryptic graffiti under the name SAMO, short for “Same Old.” Their messages appeared on walls around Lower Manhattan and attracted attention for their wit, unusual phrasing, and criticism of established social and cultural conventions. This early work helped Basquiat develop a reputation as an original voice in New York’s underground creative community.

By the early 1980s, Basquiat had moved from street-based expression into the world of professional painting. His work attracted attention through exhibitions that introduced his distinctive style to collectors, critics, and fellow artists. His paintings combined bold colors, rough lines, repeated symbols, handwritten phrases, and images of human figures. Rather than following traditional expectations of polished painting, he created works that appeared energetic, fragmented, and emotionally direct. His artistic approach reflected the rhythms of New York City, where street culture, hip-hop’s emerging influence, punk music, and experimental art intersected.

A central theme in Basquiat’s work was the experience of Black people in a society shaped by racial inequality. He frequently portrayed historical figures, athletes, musicians, and other individuals whose achievements deserved recognition. Crowns appeared throughout his paintings as symbols that could suggest dignity, authority, and the importance of people who had been marginalized. His work also challenged colonialism, racism, and the unequal distribution of power. Rather than presenting history as a distant collection of events, Basquiat brought it into the present, encouraging viewers to consider whose stories were celebrated and whose were neglected.

Music was another important element of Basquiat’s creative life. He played in a band that eventually became known as Gray, exploring experimental sounds alongside his visual art. He was influenced by jazz and the broader musical culture of New York, and his paintings often possess a rhythm that resembles improvisation. Words, marks, and images seem to compete for attention while creating an overall composition. His artistic process shared something with jazz musicians who build a performance through experimentation, repetition, and unexpected changes. This connection between music and painting helped distinguish Basquiat from many of his contemporaries.

Basquiat also developed a significant relationship with Andy Warhol, one of the most recognizable artists of the twentieth century. The two artists collaborated on paintings during the 1980s, combining different approaches to imagery, color, and popular culture. Their relationship brought Basquiat into contact with an influential figure in the established art world, although it also highlighted the tensions between artistic creativity, celebrity, and commercial success. As his reputation grew, Basquiat had to navigate an industry that increasingly treated his identity and personal story as part of the appeal of his work. Nevertheless, he continued to produce paintings that expressed his individual perspective and challenged conventional ideas about art.

Despite his extraordinary success, Basquiat’s life was tragically short. He died in New York City on August 12, 1988, at just 27 years old, from an accidental drug overdose. His death ended a remarkably productive period in which he had moved from an underground artist in Brooklyn and Manhattan to an internationally recognized painter. His final years have also encouraged broader discussions about the pressures faced by young artists, the demands of celebrity, and the difficulties of maintaining personal well-being while working in a highly competitive industry. His death remains a painful reminder of the distance between public recognition and the private struggles a person may experience.

Today, Jean-Michel Basquiat’s legacy extends far beyond the galleries in which his paintings are displayed. His work is held by major museums, studied by scholars, and admired by artists across generations. His Brooklyn upbringing, Haitian and Puerto Rican heritage, family experiences, and encounters with New York’s streets all contributed to the development of an artistic vision that was unmistakably his own. Basquiat demonstrated that an artist did not need to follow traditional academic pathways to create work of lasting significance. His paintings continue to speak about identity, inequality, history, and the power of creative expression. From the streets of New York to the world’s leading museums, Basquiat remains a symbol of artistic independence and the enduring influence of Black creativity.

Based on reporting by The Positive Community.

Deana Lawson is an acclaimed American photographer and visual artist whose powerful portraits explore Black identity, family, spirituality, intimacy, and the complexities of everyday life. Born in 1979 in Rochester, New York, Lawson has developed a distinctive approach to photography that combines carefully arranged compositions with emotionally compelling subjects. Her images often resemble scenes from family photo albums, yet they possess a theatrical quality that encourages viewers to look beyond the surface. Through her work, Lawson challenges conventional representations of Black people and presents images that celebrate their humanity, individuality, beauty, and cultural richness.

Lawson’s interest in photography developed partly through her family’s relationship with the medium. Her father was an enthusiastic family photographer, and the photographs he collected helped shape her understanding of how images preserve memories and communicate identity. Growing up surrounded by family pictures gave her an appreciation for the significance of documenting everyday experiences. She recognized that family photographs do more than record appearances; they capture relationships, traditions, aspirations, and moments that become part of a family’s history. These early influences would eventually become central to her artistic practice, inspiring her to examine how photographs shape our understanding of ourselves and the people around us.

Her formal education provided the foundation for a successful career in the visual arts. Lawson earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in photography from Pennsylvania State University in 2001 before completing a Master of Fine Arts degree at the Rhode Island School of Design in 2004. During her studies, she developed the technical and conceptual skills necessary to create photographs that communicate complex ideas. Rather than concentrating exclusively on conventional documentary photography, Lawson explored the possibilities of staging, portraiture, lighting, and composition. Her work demonstrates that photography can occupy a space between reality and imagination, documenting actual people while constructing carefully considered scenes that communicate broader emotional and cultural truths.

One of the most recognizable characteristics of Lawson’s photography is her attention to detail. She carefully considers the positioning of her subjects, the arrangement of furniture, the colors within a room, and the relationship between people and their surroundings. Bedrooms, living rooms, and other domestic spaces frequently become important settings in her photographs. Everyday objects, including mirrors, religious items, toys, clothing, and household decorations, help establish a sense of personal history. These details give viewers the impression that they are entering an intimate environment, while the deliberate composition encourages them to consider what the image communicates about family, identity, and belonging.

Lawson frequently photographs Black individuals, couples, and families in poses that communicate dignity, confidence, vulnerability, and emotional complexity. Her subjects often look directly into the camera, establishing a powerful connection with the viewer. Their expressions may appear serious, mysterious, or quietly contemplative. This direct gaze gives the people in her photographs a strong visual presence, making it difficult to treat them as passive subjects. Instead, they appear self-possessed and fully aware of their place within the image. Lawson’s approach challenges stereotypes that have historically influenced the representation of Black people in photography and popular culture, replacing simplistic narratives with images that emphasize individuality and humanity.

Her photographs also explore spirituality, a theme that adds another dimension to her artistic vision. Religious imagery, symbolic objects, unusual gestures, and carefully controlled lighting sometimes give her compositions an almost sacred atmosphere. Lawson’s images may resemble familiar domestic scenes while simultaneously suggesting something mysterious or otherworldly. This combination encourages viewers to consider the spiritual dimensions of ordinary life and the ways people seek meaning through relationships, traditions, and personal beliefs. Her photographs do not always offer clear explanations, allowing ambiguity to become part of their emotional power. The viewer is invited to interpret the scene and consider how visible appearances may conceal deeper experiences.

Although Lawson is deeply interested in African American life, her artistic vision extends throughout the African diaspora. A Guggenheim Fellowship in 2013 supported travel that included destinations such as Haiti, Jamaica, Ethiopia, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. These experiences expanded her perspective on the relationships connecting Black communities across different countries and cultural traditions. Her photographs explore similarities and differences in how people express identity, beauty, family, spirituality, and social belonging. Rather than suggesting that Black experiences are identical everywhere, Lawson’s work acknowledges the richness and diversity of Black life. Her international perspective places individual portraits within a broader conversation about history, migration, ancestry, and cultural connection.

Among her notable works is Roxie and Raquel, New Orleans, Louisiana (2010), a portrait featuring twin sisters positioned together on a bed. The carefully arranged composition emphasizes both their resemblance and their individuality, while the surrounding furnishings and colors contribute to the photograph’s visual balance. Another important work, Nation (2018), demonstrates Lawson’s interest in constructing images that carry symbolic and cultural significance. Her photographs often invite extended examination because their meaning emerges through the relationship between the subjects, their gestures, and the surrounding environment. These images illustrate her ability to transform seemingly ordinary moments into compositions that feel monumental, mysterious, and emotionally resonant.

Lawson’s achievements have brought her work to some of the most respected institutions in the art world. In 2020, she became the first photographer to receive the prestigious Hugo Boss Prize, an award recognizing significant contemporary artistic achievement. The recognition led to Centropy, an exhibition at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York in 2021. Her work has also been presented at the Museum of Modern Art, MoMA PS1, the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston, and the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. In 2022, she received the Deutsche Börse Photography Foundation Prize. Beyond her exhibitions, Lawson has contributed to art education through her work at Princeton University, where she serves as the inaugural Dorothy Krauklis ’78 Professor of Visual Arts.

Ultimately, Deana Lawson’s significance lies in her ability to make photography a powerful vehicle for cultural affirmation and artistic exploration. Her portraits challenge viewers to reconsider familiar assumptions about Black identity while celebrating the beauty, complexity, and emotional depth of Black communities. By combining elements of documentary photography, family albums, staged portraiture, and symbolic imagery, she has created a visual language that is unmistakably her own. Her work reminds audiences that photographs are never simply records of what appears before a camera; they can also express dreams, histories, relationships, and aspirations. Through her remarkable vision, Lawson continues to expand the possibilities of contemporary photography and ensure that the lives and experiences of Black people occupy a central place in the visual record of our time.

Based on reporting by The Positive Community.

By Betty Osavi Special to The Post

Every year, the Día de Los Muertos Festival brings people together in Oakland to honor those who came before us and to celebrate the bonds that unite the living and the dead.

For the festival’s 31st observation, the Unity Council, Visit Oakland, the City of Oakland, the Consulate of Mexico, renowned artist Romain Greco of Artsumex, and cultural leaders from Mexico City, commissioned a monumental 34-foot-tall sculpture of ‘La Catrina,’ handcrafted by master artisans from the Mexican capital.

The statue that arrived in pieces was unveiled on Sept. 22 and stands at the Fruitvale Transit Village, where she rises as an impressive symbol of Mexican culture, art, and the connection between Oakland and Mexico.

She will remain on display until Nov. 5, welcoming visitors and community members during various events, before becoming one of the main attractions of the Día de Los Muertos Festival on Nov. 1.

What does La Catrina symbolize?

La Catrina is one of the most recognized symbols of Día de Los Muertos. She represents the remembrance of our loved ones, the celebration of life, and the lasting connection between generations. Wearing a crown of orange marigolds, poppies, and monarch butterflies, the Oakland sculpture has her arms outstretched, as if she wants to embrace everyone who approaches her. This gesture symbolizes a warm welcome to the migrants who arrive in the Fruitvale community and expresses shared values such as inclusion, care, a sense of belonging, and cultural pride.

La Catrina also represents another kind of journey. She reflects the experiences of many families who have traveled north to the United States in search of safety, opportunity, and a better future. Her 2,000-mile journey from Mexico City to Oakland becomes a powerful metaphor for these migration experiences. Across borders, the sculpture carries memories, culture, and identity with her.

This story is deeply connected to the history of immigration in the United States, where generations of newcomers have sought opportunity while also helping to build and sustain their communities.

In California, migrants work in the fields, care for our families, build our neighborhoods, and enrich the cultural and economic life of the region. Their contributions are an essential part of the society we live in.

That is why La Catrina is much more than an impressive work of art. She reminds us of the journeys people make, the sacrifices they make, and the lasting contributions they offer to their communities. Her presence in Oakland celebrates Mexican roots, recognizes the migrant experience, and invites us to reflect on the essential role we all play in building a shared future.

The theme for this year’s festival is “La Lucha Continúa: Aquí estamos y no nos vamos” (The Struggle Continues: We Are Here and We’re Not Leaving). The free, family friendly festival is from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday Nov. 1 along International Boulevard between Fruitvale and 34th avenues.

By Karen D'Souza, EdSource

Singing the ABC song. Learning the days of the week from a nursery rhyme. Making a finger-painted collage of little handprints. 

Arts education has always been center stage in early education because little children are naturally creative, filled with wonder and the burning desire to express themselves. Arts and crafts not only help nurture a child’s natural imagination, they also boost small motor skills, sharpen hand-eye coordination and feed the insatiable need to play. 

“Children don’t just play, they learn fundamental skills through play,” said Daniel Mendoza, a California visual artist and specialist in early childhood education art practices. “Children are in a creative mindset all the time.”

While this may well be as true for teenagers as it is for toddlers, there is far more time and space allotted for playfulness in the early grades, when the crucial role of play in particular and creativity in general has long been a matter of common sense.

“Really, I’m just a common-sense professor, and somehow it became rogue,” said Kathryn Hirsh-Pasek, a professor of psychology at Temple University and an expert in the key role of play in learning. “What if we taught children the way we know the brain learns?”

Bringing joy back into the classroom is also what motivates Cindy Hoisington, an early childhood expert who specializes in reaching out to children from historically marginalized communities at the Education Development Center (EDC), a national education nonprofit.

“This is not anything new, knowing that play is so critical to children, whether it’s dramatic play, building play, creative arts play or physical play,” said Hoisington, a STEM expert who taught preschool for decades. “But as soon as they hit kindergarten and first grade, there’s this dichotomy that sets in. Play is something you get to do after you do the learning when, in fact, we know that play is an incredible vehicle for learning.”

Play, some experts suggest, may be the superpower of the young. A growing body of research suggests that play may even be a way to help close achievement gaps. One report, analyzing 26 studies from 18 countries, found that in communities from Rwanda to Ethiopia, children got higher learning boosts in literacy, motor skills and social-emotional development when attending child care centers that use a mix of instruction and free play as opposed to those focused solely on academics.

“Children are so naturally, intuitively ready with their curiosity, their motivation to explore the world and everything in it, to the point where that’s why the twos are so terrible, because you’re constantly chasing after them,”  said Hoisington, who helps evaluate digital media for PBS. “Science, for instance, tends to have a bad rap as this dry body of knowledge that we have to learn, but really it’s a process of exploration that is very much integral with play.”

Tapping into that spirit of discovery with hands-on experiences is often best, experts say. Curiosity burns brightest in the early years, so letting kids loose to investigate the world is part of building a rich, play-based learning environment.

“Where young children are free to investigate by observing, touching and acting on the objects in their world,” said Deborah Stipek, an expert in early childhood at Stanford University.  “This is how they learn about the world — for example, that some objects float and some sink. Through their own experimentation and observation, they may even arrive at hypotheses about the qualities that differentiate the two.” 

From “The Wheels on the Bus” to “Baby Shark,” kiddos love to sing and love to learn, so why not teach through music? Singing the “Old MacDonald had a Farm” song can be educational, experts say, as well as a ritual for community building. Children can take turns deciding on which animal to pick, which builds vocabulary as well as sharing skills.

“Young children learn best by doing,” said Stipek. “Counting objects is better than counting dots on a worksheet because they can move the objects to help them keep track of how many they have counted. Worksheets are not all bad. They can provide opportunities to practice and consolidate skills. But children don’t develop new skills doing worksheets, and they are typically not nearly as engaging and fun.”

Tracing the alphabet in shaving cream or making tin-foil sculptures may seem like basic exercises, but they often teach sophisticated concepts. Playing make-believe games can teach numerous skills at once. Pretend restaurants need someone to write a menu, calculate a bill and greet diners, fostering literacy, numeracy and special-emotional learning all in one game, Hoisington notes.

Songs are a clever way to remember stuff because they make memorization easy and fun for little ones. Melodies and rhymes make the most of our limited working memory to help children embed basic facts into their long-term memory, bolstering depth of cognition. 

“I still sing the ABC song in my head sometimes, if I want to know which letter comes before which letter,” admits Hoisington.

What’s often missed in the discussion of the role of play is that older children also need time for creativity and free play, as well as the arts. While there is much talk about the need to engage students, there is little focus on low-hanging fruit like increasing time for arts, sports and recess. Putting too much emphasis on academic skills in isolation undercuts the love of learning, some warn.

“Kids try to buck it, but certainly by first grade we’ve started to ruin them,” said Hirsh-Pasek. “We pound the curiosity right out of kids.”

Mendoza firmly believes teachers should be guides to adventure instead of taskmasters. 

“You don’t have to be a dictator,” as he puts it, “you can be a Sherpa.”

So, why doesn’t the role of play get more respect in education? Why do we emphasize test scores over deep learning?

“We got to this place because people are scared,” said Hirsh-Pasek. “They’re feeling like they’re losing control, and they want to make sure their kid is ahead. We push it younger and younger and younger, and as we do that, we’re creating a situation where our kids are anxious wrecks and the parents are anxious wrecks.”

Some experts suggest that children need more time for play and creativity in the wake of the pandemic, not less. Credit: Lillian Mongeau / EdSource

Too few teachers and parents are aware that play helps build the architecture of the growing brain, experts say.

“Play is not frivolous; it enhances brain structure and function and promotes executive function (i.e., the process of learning, rather than the content), which allow us to pursue goals and ignore distractions,” as an American Academy of Pediatrics report put it. “When play and safe, stable, nurturing relationships are missing in a child’s life, toxic stress can disrupt the development of executive function and the learning of prosocial behavior; in the presence of childhood adversity, play becomes even more important.”

Some experts fear that the laser focus on falling test scores in recent years has led to a decrease in playful learning. They suggest that children need more time for play in the wake of the pandemic, not less. Amid the crisis of chronic absenteeism, engaging students on a compelling level may be more vital than ever.

Creativity is the secret formula, experts say, in a world where machines will always compute faster than humans. Drill and kill won’t help children master high-level intellectual inquiry and conceptual analysis.

“You have to ask yourself, what’s it going to take to outsmart the robots?” as Hirsh-Pasek put it. “We need kids who don’t just memorize and take tests well, which AI will do better than our kids ever will. We need kids to be explorers and problem solvers.”

WASHINGTON (HUNS) — “The future belongs to creators who are bold,” Everette Taylor, CEO of crowdfunding platform Kickstarter, told students at Howard University during a recent visit.

As Taylor discussed his journey, he tested the boldness of students by inviting them to share their ideas during an impromptu pitch session at the Cathy Hughes School of Communications’ new speaker series in the Browsing Room of Founders Library. The inaugural speaker then shocked one group of students by pledging to invest in their thesis film, paying forward the opportunities that have lifted him as he struggled to pursue his dreams.

Taylor grew up in a low-income neighborhood in Richmond, Virginia, where he frequently encountered gang violence and drug dealing amid periods of homelessness.

Not feeling as if he conformed to conventional ideas of success, he eventually found inspiration in Jay-Z who balanced being an artist and an entrepreneur. Similarly, Taylor carved his own route, launching and growing various businesses.

He gained enough recognition to land on the 2018 Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list in marketing and advertising. In 2022, Forbes also named him as one of the top 50 most entrepreneurial CMOs when he was chief marketing officer of Artsy, an online art gallery and marketplace. That same year he took over Kickstarter, and the company reported a year-over-year revenue increase of 50% in the first quarter of 2026.

Taylor encouraged the audience through his story, but he also gave practical advice to help students who share his zeal to create and grow their business.

He explained that his mentor, Artsy CEO Mike Steib, helped him make the transition from being a CMO to becoming CEO at Kickstarter.

“These opportunities I don’t take for granted,” Taylor said, adding that Steib was “the first leader I had to take me under his wing.”

When he began his position at Kickstarter, Taylor said, “I had zero imposter syndrome, because I felt like I was ready for it, and it was because this person invested in me over the past few years.”

“A lot of my journey was me just hustling and being bold enough to ask for what I want, but I also need people to give me an opportunity.”

This idea of giving people opportunity impacts his business philosophy, as Taylor estimates that the number of African American employees grew exponentially since he’s been in leadership.

“Kickstarter was I think less than 2% Black, and at our peak I had gotten it to 20-something percent Black,” Taylor said.

Even then, Taylor also saw a need for representing other perspectives. “We still serve people globally, so we need people from different countries and cultures,” he said. “If you’re building a global company, it’s important to build a diverse base of people.”

With the success Taylor had after becoming CEO of Kickstarter, he also found a need to prioritize his health.

“This is the first year that I’ve started the year with zero business goals,” he said. “For the first time, my goals have been centered around my health.”

He cites the illness of a friend who appeared to be healthy. Seeing his friend, who is also a successful entrepreneur, endure illness pushed him to prioritize his health.

“Business, I can do that in my sleep, but for me right now I’m so much more focused on setting goals for myself, and I know that’s going to impact the work that I do by feeling healthier and being a better version of myself.”

Samantha Housen, a sophomore public relations major and interior design minor from Harlem, attended the event to gain knowledge to grow her non-profit and for-profit businesses.

“I’m here because I want to explore more of the details of entrepreneurship from an actual professional,” Housen said, and to “see how his mindset could help me in my entrepreneurship.”

“My biggest takeaway is that I’m bold, and it’s OK to be bold,” she said. “I very much have the authority to do whatever I seek to do.”

Kimberly Moffitt, Ph.D., dean of the Cathy Hughes School of Communications and host of the event, said she was excited about the speaker series.

“It’s because of students,” Moffitt said. “They felt like they weren’t hearing enough from people who are already post-graduation and successful. They wanted to hear those voices. So, this is an opportunity for me to bring folks to campus so they could reach out, talk and interact with folks that they aspire to be like or will be inspired by.”

Moffitt was excited for students to see someone who looked like them and carried themselves authentically in a position of high acclaim.

“He is showing you a different path, and letting you know that it’s OK to be who you are and show up in that space and not have to apologize,” Moffitt said of Taylor.

Moffitt also wants to encourage students to make the most of the speaker series. She gives details on upcoming speakers and the importance of hearing these people tell their stories.

“Those of you who want to be in TV and film, those jobs are different now,” she said. “You have to hustle in a different way.”

“I need our students to think about entrepreneurship in all that they do,” Moffitt added. “I want students to leave with that so that they have it in their back pocket should they need to draw on it.”

After the event. Taylor explained why boldness is essential to his success at Kickstarter.

“It’s for the grind and the ambition — not settling for status quo and mediocrity, and really going for it,” he said. “I always want to impact more lives, and that always leads to more results.”

Solomon Goins is a reporter for HUNewsService.com.

Based on reporting by Howard University News Service.

When KevOnStage took the stage at The Pageant Sunday night, his house rules let everyone know what they were in for with his one-man show “Grief Sucks.”

“Do not judge yourself. Do not judge the jokes. Just laugh,” he said.

Even within his directions, were jokes.

He gave the audience permission to cry, but quietly – because Black people have a tendency to do things at full volume.

The hour that followed provided plenty of laughter. But underneath the humor were truths that anyone who has ever lost someone could feel deep in their chest.

The show was based on his experience of losing his brother, best friend, manager and business partner Jason Fredericks. He died suddenly of a heart attack four years ago at the age of 42.

Kev warned the audience to be mindful of their social media — both the wild posts that could end up being someone’s last and the intrusive ones people make after a loved one dies. And he gave people permission to laugh at the moments that feel too outrageous to say out loud — the ones that become inside jokes for families trying to survive the worst days of their lives.

“Grief is dark humor,” he said as he walked through the story of his brother’s death — a story he jokingly blamed on Nia Long.

He found a way to give permission to laugh at the outlandish moments that often serve as inside jokes. Those who have lived through some of the worst moments of their lives and not only found a way to talk about it, but to steal a laugh in the midst.

“Grief is dark humor,” he said as he walked through the story of his brother’s death — a story he jokingly blamed on Nia Long.

“I know that sounds crazy,” he said. “It’s not her fault — but it is her responsibility.”

It was a jarring moment, but it let the audience know exactly what kind of honesty they were in for.

He said his brother’s death was “proof that she is drop‑dead gorgeous.”

“Sometimes things are funny — and sometimes things are funny because you should not be laughing,” he said.

The show moved through a series of points about grief, each one backed by a story that made the room nod in recognition. He talked about how grief can twist ordinary moments — how it can make you jealous of people with siblings or irritated by strangers having a good day.

He explained how grief can twist even the simplest moments, how it can make you jealous of people with siblings, or irritated by strangers having a good day. He brilliantly compared grief to a rock stuck in your shoe. Sometimes it’s small and manageable. Other times its jagged and unbearable – but always there.

He also talked about the unfairness of grief — how the world doesn’t stop when your loved one dies, how people still go to Raising Cane’s, still pick up their kids, still laugh. And he talked about the heartbreak of realizing his brother never got to see things he would have loved, from TV shows to cultural moments. And that he was robbed of the opportunity to engage with him about them.

“He would have loved Sinners,” Kev said. “But he never got to see it.”

At one point, he paused to show a video of his brother telling him how proud he was. The room went quiet. It wasn’t the polite kind of silence – but the kind where you can hear someone in the back sniff. The crowd assured him that it was okay for him to take a beat. His voice shook as he pushed through. Those pauses made the audience lean in even more.

Kev made grief feel communal. He made people laugh at things they didn’t think they were allowed to laugh at. And he reminded everyone in the room that grief doesn’t make sense, doesn’t follow rules, and doesn’t care about timing. And most importantly, he drove home the point that it also doesn’t have to be carried alone.

There were moments when his emotions got the best of him. There was the video he shared of his brother telling Kev how proud he was of him that compelled him to take a beat. His voice quivered as he powered through. Those pauses made the audience connect with the show all the more. Grief Sucks wasn’t just comedy. It was catharsis. It was storytelling. It was a room full of people realizing they weren’t the only ones trying to make sense of loss.

KevOnStage gave them permission to feel all of it — and to laugh anyway.

Internet personality and standup comedian KevOnStage used the sudden and unexpected loss of his brother as the foundation for a one-man show that was funny, honest and a little dark – often at the same time.

Sunday night, he brought “Grief Sucks” to The Pageant. His barometer check

KevOnStage walked onto The Pageant stage Sunday night with a promise: that the next hour would be funny, honest and a little dark. And he delivered all three — often at the same time.

His one‑man show, Grief Sucks, was as relatable as it was funny. It was the kind of performance where the audience laughed hard, then caught themselves nodding in recognition. Because beneath every punchline was a truth that anyone who has lost someone could feel in their chest.

He opened with the kind of humor that only comes from someone who has lived through the worst days of their life and somehow found a way to talk about it. He told the crowd they had permission to cry, laugh, sit still, or just breathe — but to “cry quietly,” because, as he joked, Black folks tend to do everything at full volume.

Then he went straight into the story of losing his brother — not with soft edges, but with the kind of raw honesty that made the room go still. He explained how grief can twist even the simplest moments, how it can make you jealous of people with siblings, or irritated by strangers having a good day. He compared grief to a rock stuck in your shoe: sometimes small and manageable, sometimes jagged and unbearable, but always there.

And he didn’t shy away from the intrusive thoughts that come with loss — the ones people rarely admit out loud. He shared the moment he realized he had lived longer than his older brother ever got to, and how that fact sits heavy no matter how much time passes.

Kev’s storytelling is built on the kind of humor that comes from real life — the funeral home upcharges, the family dynamics, the dark jokes that slip out at the worst possible moments. He told a story about previewing his brother’s body with his wife and grandmother, and how one unexpected comment turned into an inside joke that has carried them through four years of grief.

He also talked about the unfairness of grief — how the world doesn’t stop when your loved one dies, how people still go to Raising Cane’s, still pick up their kids, still laugh. And he talked about the heartbreak of realizing his brother never got to see things he would have loved, from TV shows to cultural moments.

The most emotional part of the night came when he recounted the day his brother died — the phone calls, the confusion, the hope, and finally the moment his nephew said, “He’s gone,” while Kev was sitting in a middle seat on a United flight. He told it plainly, without theatrics, and the room held its breath.

But even in that story, he found a way to make people laugh — not at the pain, but at the absurdity of life continuing around you when your world has just shattered.

By the end of the show, KevOnStage had done something rare: he made grief feel communal. He made people laugh at things they didn’t think they were allowed to laugh at. And he reminded everyone in the room that grief doesn’t make sense, doesn’t follow rules, and doesn’t care about timing — but it also doesn’t have to be carried alone.

Grief Sucks wasn’t just comedy. It was catharsis. It was storytelling. It was a room full of people realizing they weren’t the only ones trying to make sense of loss.

And on a Sunday night at The Pageant, KevOnStage gave them permission to feel all of it — and to laugh anyway.

Based on reporting by St. Louis American.