Geri Allen and Spatial Grammar
Serubiri Moses

Geri Allen, © 2021 Michael Wilderman

This article engages various conceptions of space and collaboration [i] in the context of three trio sessions featuring pianist/composer Geri Allen: a 2015 meeting with saxophonist Henry Threadgill and bassist Henry Grimes at Harlem Stage Gatehouse (archived at; a 2013 Montréal International Jazz Festival performance with drummer Terri Lyne Carrington and bassist Esperanza Spalding; and Zodiac Suite: Revisited (Mary Records), a 2006 recording with bassist Buster Williams, and two drummers Andrew Cyrille and Billy Hart (Cyrille plays on track 13 and 15). Each of these trios, while not being the most lauded in these musicians' careers, reveals  careful dynamics and ethics which I argue are pertinent to radical musical space. Allen is a particular anchor in this text as I engage her theory of logic and participatory listening, as well as her ethics of “courtesy” and “care work” as integral to the creation of such spaces.


I. Open Space


Allen, Threadgill, and Grimes performed at the Harlem Stage Gatehouse (Nov. 17, 2015) in honor of pianist Cecil Taylor. The musicians were united by a community of players dating back to the mid twentieth century. Grimes had long performed with Taylor’s ensembles (including his mid-1960s Unit). Threadgill was a core member of the AACM. Allen had performed and recorded with Ornette Coleman, Charlie Haden, and Paul Motian. I noted a few things while watching the video documentation of the performance: (1) that in the approx. two minutes and fifty-nine seconds of video, Allen spent a significant part of it rocking back and forth, like someone would when agreeing with a statement made by someone else. Her gesture was made in response to Grimes’s bass playing which could have  been heard as a sermon in the Black Baptist tradition; (2) that Allen was reading a sheet at the piano, yet still playing “free”; (3) that there was evidence of the excess of the individual voice echoing the Ornette Coleman approach. As critic Amiri Baraka said, “Ornette’s compositions (...) are issued from a musical mind much more controlled by the exigencies of solo performance, and the constant variation of purely extemporized music.” (Black Music, 2010, pp 103). I was extremely moved by these aspects of the performance because the musicians were enacting principles of space. I must clarify that, by space, I do not mean the measurement of spatial forms. Instead, following geographer Doreen Massey, I use the “social” constitution of space, as well as the interweaving of space and time (Space, Place and Gender, 1994, pp 249).

The performance began with Grimes, who played a bass solo in which he introduced the theme or melody (the notes: F-A-C), with an accent on the third note. Then, Threadgill joined in on the saxophone with what sounded like second or third-part harmony (the notes: E flat-E-A flat-G). He also emphasized the melody by playing certain notes either loud or soft, or legato. Then, Allen came in on the piano after both Grimes and Threadgill had been in duo for more than a minute and half. She played a sort of percussive and repetitive figure that emphasized the tune’s rhythmic qualities before launching into a crystal-clear take on the melody (the notes: C-D flat-G). I will expand on this approach as what I call a “bifurcation.” Each player gave their distinct take on the stated theme. I was struck that in three minutes, the performers created a “space” among each other. This space comprised a form of correspondence or dialogue. That is, the themes and melodies played by each were echoed in the subsequent player in ways that recalled both the “call and response” of the Black spirituals and sermons, as well as the counterpoint of baroque music. The work’s formalism was indeed of note. However, what appealed to me most was the creation of space in this performance. The work recalled Taylor’s own approach to space. And this was appropriate given that it was performed in tribute to him.

In scholar Nahum Chandler’s paper on Taylor’s work delivered via Skype at Brooklyn College (Oct 26, 2019), he specifically expounded on the recording, Air Above Mountains (Buildings Within) (Enja,1977) discussing visual, or picturesque space, as seen through a window, as well as  physical space in architecture, or built space in the engineering of bridges. Chandler painted a picture of Taylor looking outside a window for hours on end. This lengthy observation or meditation on distance is a conception of space as either open, unending, or void. This idea of ‘open space’ easily appears in the novel Annie John (1985) by Jamaica Kincaid.

While doing chores in the yard of her home in Antigua, the novel’s heroine Annie John says, “I could see various small, sticklike figures, some dressed in black, some dressed in white, bobbing up and down in the distance.” (pp 4) This passage draws upon a “distance” that is not easy to measure, such that it tows the line between the known and the unknown. It is this ontological line that connects Annie John to Taylor in Chandler’s reading of space on the 1977 recording. It is spatially neither tangible, nor measurable in matter of size or volume. Chandler said that Taylor was fascinated with the bridge as a particular brand of engineering, and emphasized his study of architecture to reflect on his music. Notably, Taylor’s final public session was a meditation on the architecture of the Renzo Piano designed Whitney Museum building in Chelsea. Rather than a definite one, Chandler presented Taylor’s Air Above Mountains as an immeasurable and poetic space. That Taylor would sit in front of a window in his home looking out into unknown distance, or unknown space represents the ontological limits of space in his music. Kincaid considered these limits when citing ghostly “sticklike figures” that were “bobbing up and down in the distance.” Such choreography provided rhythmic life to the ghostly which Kincaid described as such: “We were afraid of the dead because we never could tell when they might show up again.” (pp 4) Thus, space and distance are conjoined in a meditation on memory and imagination. The figure of the ghost appears at this border of the two.

The dead appear either as perpetually returning or as “figures in the distance” in Kincaid’s cartography. Later, the narrator puzzles as to whether they are actually dead, or “if the dead person were asleep.” (pp 11) This skepticism points to the unknown distances, and their limits of speech, sight, sound, or awareness. The spatial dynamics of the trio’s tribute to Cecil Taylor recall these limits and distances. In fact, these limits appear in the music as unknown or immeasurable space-time of the ensemble. The trio’s notes, harmonies, and use of time in this musical tribute remains dynamic and ever changing, as opposed to fixed. [ii]

The following aspects affirm that Allen, Threadgill, Grimes trio reflected Taylor’s approach. (1) Time was constantly in flux, for example, the bass solo did not conform to a strict set of measures. (2) The role of each musician functioned within the excess of individual expression challenging normative arrangements and musical environments. Baraka viewed this as the act to “destroy the popular song.” I also borrow his  term “musical environment.” (pp 102-107) (3) The musicians were playing “free” though still constrained by distinct melodies or musical directions. Baraka viewed Taylor’s approach – and what he identified as a ‘changing music’ – as being in dialogue with Ornette Coleman’s. He wrote, “Cecil is a fantastic soloist, but his compositions demonstrate how this changed music will be preserved as a notated music. Cecil seems much more conscious of the possibility of his music being played by others than Coleman.” (pp 103) He further clarified that “Cecil’s tunes on [Gil Evans: Into the Hot, Impulse] create by their sincere attempts at perfection of a form that is still not completely understood, a musical environment that will make the fingerpoppers shudder.” (pp 105) I am drawn to the “form that is still not completely understood.” Baraka pointed out the ‘changing’ dynamic, and warned critics who were too moored in older styles of the music to listen carefully. He also pointed to the music’s reception: the “fingerpoppers” reveal the musical change from popular song to immeasurable space form. Taking cues from structuralism, he delineated between form and function, and named the “verb force” of Taylor’s musical grammar. He located it within Ellingtonian “swing”. I’m interested in Baraka’s identification of the “changing music” and Taylor’s perfecting of a form that is still not understood. A musical environment includes these various aspects of musical, sonic, temporal, and aesthetic change. I use Baraka’s term “musical environment” to stress its radical nature and acknowledge this ‘changing music’ and the politics implicated therein. [iii]

The playing of all three musicians, Allen, Grimes, Threadgill, reflected these aspects.  This radical musical environment was constituted in multiple tonal centers, (I noted  F major, B flat minor, and C minor), though conformed to none. Because the music oscillated between multiple tonal centers, this encouraged a sense of plurality; echoing the deconstruction of the popular song, as well as the dissolution of normative or rigid hierarchies. The other, perhaps more obvious, aspect of this musical environment is that each player “sounded” different. That is, rather than sound like each other due to aesthetic or harmonic directives, the emphasis was on their ‘difference’  and playing “free.”  Accordingly, Threadgill played coercively loud, staccato, or caressingly smooth; Allen played percussively juxtaposed with poise and clarity of tone; and Grimes played in a deeply resonant, adventurous, and melodic approach. These various attributes reflected multiple or divergent styles and approaches to the music.


II. Cinematic Space


Allen, Terri Lyne Carrington, Esperanza Spalding (ACS) trio performed at the 2013 Festival International de Jazz de Montréal in a tribute to Wayne Shorter. The trio emerged from Carrington’s studio session with an all women band, The Mosaic Project (Concord; 2011), which recording included compositions by all three members of ACS (“Unconditional Love” by Allen; “Wistful” by Carrington; “Crayola” by Spalding). There’s a fascinating moment in the video documentation of the performance during a take on Wayne Shorter’s composition “Fall.” This song was first recorded on Miles Davis’ Nefertiti (Columbia, 1968). It seemed to me that the musicians shared a lot of sensibilities including, among others, “groove” and color. Similar to the Allen, Grimes and Threadgill trio, the musicians in ACS assumed their roles as equals, that is, nobody played as a mere accompanist [iv]. Similar to the 2015 performance in which Grimes introduced the musical theme, as well as the song’s rhythm within a solo improvisation, drummer Carrington offered distinct shade and light, effectively coloring in space, such that her introduction to the song, which lasted well over a minute, was cinematic. This creation of a cinematic space was constituted by an architecture of light, color, emotion, and other effects. The fading in and fading out of the music functioned cinematically, in that it set the scene as a kind of tableaux. It  framed multiple voices and voicings. I noted that the expression of the drums: the cymbal, and high hat, in tandem with the snare drum, and occasional bass drum were incredibly poly-vocal, and each produced or animated a different voice, or character of the song. Allen was dynamic in the sense that her role was less one of harmonic or tonal center of the ensemble, but rather she acted as a voice in the ensemble. This reminded me of how Taylor, or pianist-composer Thelonious Monk, would improvise throughout the song, not restricted to comping. Spalding carried the song’s melody, sometimes sounding like a brass section filling in color. Her approach to the bass, similar to Allen’s piano, resided in the sphere of color or  chromatics. All these elements provided not only mood but also shade.  Thus, the architecture of the space created by these musicians was cinematic. It was a slow fade to black, to use the phrase coined by conceptual artist Carrie Mae Weems (2010). I also follow historian Daphne Brooks’ use of this phrase (2021, pp 370) in line with exhibition making.

In cinema, a fade out is “a filmmaking technique whereby an image is made to disappear gradually or the sound volume is gradually decreased to zero.” (Oxford) In the ACS Trio’s performance, the slow-fade was both a fading in and fading out. That is, all musicians colored, shaded, lightened, faded in, and faded out their individual chromatic and aesthetic grammar, producing a densely charged, affecting, and stimulating musical environment. Such cinematic (visual) forms are predicated on virtuosic and brilliant techniques, though, I ask, how can we know cinematic space? Thinking about space here, I am drawn again to geographer Massey’s suggestion, following urbanist Henri Lefebvre, that space is socially constructed. In The Production of Space (1991) Lefebvre aimed at a Marxist understanding of urban space. For Massey, “Lefebvre, among others, insisted on the importance of considering not only what might be called ‘the geometry’ of space but also its lived practices and the symbolic meaning and significance of particular spaces and spatializations.” (1994, pp 251) Massey and Lefebvre urge us towards a conception of space that goes beyond ‘measuring’ space, and its material evidence. But what constitutes this “social space”? Improvised music is made up of a constantly changing spatial form. Cultural theorist Lauren Berlant recently said that “collaboration is an intensified form of teaching.” (W. J. T. Mitchell, 2021) If this is true then, collaboration in the context of improvised music plays an even more intensified role. This affirms the rational aspects of collaborative space, to the extent that “teaching” might seem an inadequate term. Collaboration in “social space” such as a radical musical environment may appear to center teaching, but also the unfamiliar.

In an interview with Allen, music journalist Marc Myers asked the question, ‘What do you think makes some people uncomfortable about music that’s unfamiliar?’ (2012) This question concerns twentieth century music. That is, the question of legibility and unfamiliarity. The world is “not legible but audible,” theorist Jacques Atali said (1985, pp 3). He added, “Our science has always desired to monitor, measure, abstract, and castrate meaning, forgetting that life is full of noise and that death is silent.” (Ibid, pp 3)  Were audiences “unfamiliar” with some of her musical performances, with emphasis on audience discomfort? Allen replied, “The music may be (more) complex and involved than most of the music they’re used to hearing. But they know what it’s all about. Audiences aren’t always given credit for being emotionally aware of what’s going on. I've found that most people are quite capable of internalizing emotions that are stimulated by new music and art, even if it isn’t immediately familiar.” (2012)

Then, Myers asked further, “Do you find that audiences have a natural, spiritual reaction to your music?” This question carried some assumptions. Myers’s notion of a “spiritual reaction” could easily be associated with spiritual, or liturgical music. While Allen certainly recorded and composed spiritual and sacred music (for example, “For the Healing of the Nations,” a jazz suite, and “Journey to Bethlehem” on A Child is Born, Motema, 2011), I am interested in how this question frames the ‘familiar’ and ‘unfamiliar’. Allen further complicated this distinction by saying, “Yes. It’s not necessarily about literal comprehension. It’s much deeper. It’s about participating in the experience of what they see or hear. The question is how open people are to getting back in touch with it. I think the initial fears people have about music are a result of the misconceptions created by labels.”

Both these answers clarify Allen’s approach to the issues of familiarity and legibility described by Myers. Yet, this difficulty crosses over from music to visual art. In an essay, art critic Orit Gat wrote that “[t]he average museumgoer stands in front of a work from fifteen to thirty seconds. An average reader can comprehend about two hundred words per minute. A viewer who reads a standard wall label (which averages about one hundred words) will spend as much time reading as looking.” (2016)

Gat’s intervention into museum practices can be transposed to music criticism and history. We would not consider the museum wall labels to be the ultimate guide to art; but music labels that Allen raises such as Avant Garde, and Free Jazz which produce ‘misconceptions’ in the listener. Allen favored the listener’s openness and their sense of adventure over conclusions brought on by abstract and objective labels. Gat’s question, ‘Could Reading Be Looking?’ can be transposed to music: could labelling be listening? This question is an inquiry on the legibility of music, and directs the reader to an adjacent question of knowing. How might we know what we are listening to without the aid of music labels and their expanded attributes?

In search of an answer, I return to Chandler’s description of Taylor staring out the window for long periods, as if to mirror an account of Monk sitting in a friend’s apartment for long stretches of time ‘just sitting there.’ (“Thelonious Himself,” 2001) This aspect of the ‘void’ in an extended form is what I described earlier as looking into unknown distances and the limits of perception. Thus, how do we know what we know about music? Can we know anything at all merely by listening?   Elsewhere, Chandler suggested that historian W. E. B. Du Bois moved beyond empiricism to focus his attention on “excess,” “feeling,” or “status” as ways of knowing African American subjecthood (2014, pp 70). In calling attention to these alternative forms of knowing the African American subject, I highlight Allen’s theory on participatory listening as an alternative mode of learning, to the model of music labelling. These alternative models of knowing are located in “openness” and “emotive capacity.” (2012) Allen’s theory provides that: (1) listeners are ‘stimulated’ by music and art; and (2) this ‘stimulation’ is constant through listener participation. For Allen, sonic stimuli intersect with the listener’s openness to yield processes of logic and ‘deep’ understanding. “It’s not exactly about literal comprehension. It’s much deeper. It is about participating in the experience of what they see or hear.” (2012)

Such listener participation involving the exploration of musical space, uninhibited by apriori objective labelling, relates to Massey’s ideas about space as shaped by social relations. (1994, pp 2) However, what constitutes such radical musical space or environment? Collaboration takes place through social relations that constitute a given space. The activities that govern such space might include teaching, and participatory listening. Massey challenges the reader to consider social relations as inherent to social space, and affirms the politics inherent to spaces of collaboration. The politics inherent to such a musical space in the trio setting was elaborated by ACS members (Spalding and Carrington) in the Harvard symposium dedicated to Allen.

Spalding recalled “a signature courtesy or space holding that Geri [Allen] embodies.” (2018) This related to the notion or idea of ‘care work’ and ‘space holding’. These terms are used in the context of trio performance to connote mental, social, and emotional care of self and others. Both ‘care work’ and ‘space holding’ could be understood as an ethics within spaces of collaboration. Spalding credited this reading to Allen collaborator, singer-songwriter, Carmen Lundy, who, during the symposium (2018), named ‘trust’ as a basis for her collaboration with Allen. In her broader remarks, Lundy affirmed a view of trust as a crucial ethic of their collaborative musical space.


III. Dialogic Space


Allen, Andrew Cyrille, and Buster Williams trio played two songs dedicated to pianist-composer Mary Lou Williams on Zodiac Suite: Revisited (2006). Drummer Billy Hart featured on the rest of the recording. The two songs were Allen’s “Thank You Madam” and Herbie Nichols’ “The BeBop Waltz.” Both were composed in tribute to Williams, and incorporated some of her musical personality and aesthetic ideas. Pianist and radio host Marian McPartland commented on Allen's solo performance of “Thank You, Madam”: ‘That’s a beautiful harmony; you have such a way of voicing the chords. And thinking of Mary Lou, you really captured her.’ (“Piano Jazz,” 2008) In this composition, I find consistent the overarching voicings in the bass register, and use of effects such as shimmering melodies in higher registers between Allen’s and Mary Lou Williams’ approaches.  The total effect appears like a bifurcation because it pursues both registers actively without relenting to unproductive tensions. Allen’s use of these effects, as mentioned earlier, appealed to the senses and her emphasis on logic in active listening.  It appealed to an idea of “comprehension” that remains open and incomplete. In  Allen, Cyrille, and Williams' trio version, the bass played by Buster Williams was so distinct that it at times appeared to be  in a separate harmonic center altogether. The piano remained in the midrange, occasionally reaching the higher octaves. This reflected the bifurcation between registers in the excess of the individual voice; though how might this bifurcation relate to space?

So far, I have defined space in these trio sessions as: (1) a cinematic architecture shaped by the slow fade; (2) a socially-constituted space that includes activities such as teaching and participatory listening; (3) an open or voided space at the limit of logic and comprehension; (4) a system of dialogue and correspondence. It may be therefore helpful to consider the Allen, Cyrille, and Williams trio as constituting a dialogic space that exists through multiple ways, such as:  an active and living space; that is,  a radical musical environment. I use ‘radical’ here to connote the politics inherent to such a space. Such radicality is evident in Allen, Threadgill, and Grimes trio in which plurality takes precedence in the sphere of solo players not constricted or locked into singular harmonic or tonic center. In other words,  an ensemble in active disobeyance of singularity. This space is one in which players are not limited to one tonal center or stylistic approach. Rather they exhibit the excess of their individual voices together. Accordingly, protocols of dialogic space are inspired by these excesses of the individual voice. Yet within such a relational space, players also provide care and courtesy, to use Spalding’s terms. A similar model that comes to mind is art historian Kobena Mercer’s  “dialogics of diaspora” as a system in which “every utterance is incomplete until it is met by an answering reply.” (2012, pp 212) Mercer adds that “every insight owes its existence to the otherness of the other person.” (Ibid, pp 216)

Another key element that is consistent between Allen’s and Mary Lou Williams’ approaches is the engagement with movement practice.  As a space in which specific rhythmic qualities function independently from the harmony, it allowed both Allen and Mary Lou Williams to ‘free the bass.’ By movement practice, I mean that Williams was adept at movement-based styles as wide ranging as boogie-woogie (“Mary’s Boogie” on Mary Lou Williams, Folkways, 1977) and stride piano (Farah Griffin, 2013, pp 144), noted as central to jazz dance in the early twentieth century. Similarly, Allen was adept at movement-based styles of the later twentieth century ranging from funk to R&B, to Motown (Grand River Crossings (Motown & Motor City Inspirations), Motema Music, 2013) and rock in addition to Cuban and West African music (Allen, 2020). Both Allen and Williams enabled the bass to perform beyond the rules and formats of conventional music genres. I view this act as related to my concept of bifurcation.

In ACS Trio, we witness the band as an extension of this space of plurality, also described by musicologist Yoko Suzuki (2020) as “temporarily going outside of the song form” on the trio’s performance of Allen’s song “Unconditional Love.” If one aim of both Allen’s and Mary Lou Williams’s approach was to “free the bass,” then another aim it seems to me was to free the body and its movement. Allen’s collaborations with tap dancers Maurice Chestnut and Lloyd Storey testify to this.

In conclusion, the three trios featuring Allen – with Carrington and Spalding; with Grimes and Threadgill; and Cyrille/Hart and Buster Williams – were each invested in ideas of space and collaboration. The broader ideas they expressed to ‘free the bass’ were related to my view of  bifurcation in a form of excess of the individual voice, feeling, and movement practice within the music. Yet these are only possible if, as Massey tells us, space is constituted by social relations. Further, an ethics and politics of care and courtesy, among other qualities, was required for the excess of the individual voice that we saw in Ornette Coleman’s approach to collectively improvised music.



[i] I would like to acknowledge the generous interviews, and correspondences with scholars, and musicians that helped shape this article. Thanks to emails and conversation with Farah Griffin, Vijay Iyer, Daphne Brooks, Aaron Diehl, Jason Moran, and long Instagram and iMessage reflections with my friends Raymond Pinto, and Jonah Mutono. I would also like to acknowledge Nicole Fleetwood and the graduate students at NYU Tisch’s department of Performance Studies for giving feedback on an early presentation of my research.

[ii] For a similar view, see: Kofi Agawu, “The Invention of African Rhythm.”

[iii] Baraka’s political posture could be understood through the lens of Black Marxism and its legacy. In the 1960s that was aligned with the Civil Rights Movement to transform the social and political rights of African Americans, and solidarity with Third World and Decolonization movements in the Global South. For more on Black Nationalism, Marxism, Decolonization, See: The Amiri Baraka Reader.

[iv] See: Carrington’s account from the Harvard symposium, 2018.



Allen, Geri, Buster Williams, Andrew Cyrille, Billy Hart. 2006. “Thank You Madam,” and “The Bebop Waltz.” Track 15, 13 on Zodiac Suite: Revisited. Mary Records, CD.
Allen, Geri, Henry Threadgill, Henry Grimes. Cecil Taylor: From the Five Spot to the World. 13-19, Nov, 2015, Harlem Stage Gatehouse, New York City.
Allen, Geri, Esperanza Spalding, Terri Lyne Carrington (aka ACS Trio). Wayne Shorter 80th Birthday Celebration. June 2013, Festival International de Jazz de Montréal, Montréal.
Allen, Geri. For the Healing of the Nations: A Sacred Jazz Suite. Rutgers Camden Center for the Arts. 10 Sept, 2006, Camden, New Jersey.
Allen, Geri. 2011. “Journey to Bethlehem.” Track 5 on A Child is Born. Motema Music, CD.
Allen, Geri. 2013. Grand River Crossings (Motown and Motor City Inspirations). Motema Music, CD.
Carrington, Terri Lyne. 2011. “Crayola”, “Wistful”, “Unconditional Love”. Track 9, 8 and 7 on The Mosaic Project. Concord Music Group, CD.
Davis, Miles. 1968. “Fall”. Track 2 on Nefertiti. Columbia, LP.
Evans, Gill. 1962. “Pots”, “Bulbs”, “Mixed”. Tracks 2, 4, 6 on Into the Hot. Impulse!, LP.
“Geri Allen”. Piano Jazz. National Public Radio. Originally broadcast on Nov. 25, 2008.
“Thelonious Himself”. Jazz Profiles. National Public Radio. Originally Broadcast on Aug, 1, 2001.
Taylor, Cecil. 1977. Air Above Mountains (Buildings Within), Enja Records, LP.
Taylor, Cecil, Tony Oxley, Min Tanaka, Jackson Krall, Elliott Levin, et al. Open Plan. April 15-24, 2016. Whitney Museum, New York City.
Williams, Mary Lou. 1977. “Mary’s Boogie”. Track 7 [Disc 1], on Mary Lou Williams: The Asch Recordings: 1944-47. Folkways Recordings.



Weems, Carrie Mae. Slow Fade to Black, 2010



Allen, Geri Antoinette. “Eric Dolphy: A Musical Analysis of Three Pieces with a Brief Biography (MA Thesis in Ethnomusicology, University of Pittsburgh, 1983).” Jazz & Culture 3, no. 2 (2020): 21-65.
Allen, Geri, and Marc Myers. “Interview Part 2”. Jazzwax. Jan, 19th, 2012. URL=
Agawu, Kofi. "The Invention of African Rhythm." Journal of the American Musicological Society 48, no. 3 (1995): 380-395.
Attali, Jacques. Noise: The Political Economy of Music. Vol. 16. Manchester University Press, 1985, pp 3.
Baraka, Amiri. Black Music, Akashic Books, 2010, pp 103-207.
Baraka, Amiri, and William J. Harris. The LeRoi Jones / Amiri Bakara Reader, Basic Books, 2000.
Brooks, Daphne. Liner Notes for the Revolution: The Intellectual Life of Black Feminist Sound. Harvard University Press, 2021, pp 370.
Carrington, Terri Lyne, Carmen Lundy, Kenny Davis, Kassa Overall, Esperanza Spalding. “Working with Geri Allen: Her music and her vision,” Timeless Portraits and Dreams: A Festival / Symposium in Honor of Geri Allen, Harvard University, Feb. 17, 2018.
Chander, Nahum Dimitri, “Air Above Mountains (Buildings Within): A Meditation,” Unit Structures: The Art of Cecil Taylor Conference, Brooklyn College, Oct 26th, 2019.
Gat, Orit. “Could Reading Be Looking?” e-flux journal, 2016.
Griffin, Farah Jasmine. Harlem Nocturne: Women Artists and Progressive Politics During World War II. Civitas Books, 2013, pp 144.
Kincaid, Jamaica. Annie John, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1985, pp 4-11.
Lefebvre, Henri, and Donald Nicholson-Smith. The Production of Space. Vol. 142. Blackwell: Oxford, 1991.
Massey, Doreen. Space, Place and Gender. University of Minnesota Press, 1994, pp 249-269.
Mercer, Kobena. “Art History and the Dialogics of Diaspora.” Small Axe: A Caribbean Journal of Criticism 16, no. 2 (2012): 213-227.
Mitchell, W. J. T. “Remembering Lauren Berlant on 28 June 2021.” Critical Inquiry, 2021 URL=
Suzuki, Yoko. “Searching for a New Place: Exploratory Process in Geri Allen's Compositions and Performances.” Jazz & Culture 3, no. 2 (2020): 111-126.
Yom, Michelle. Cecil Taylor: A Sessionography, Lost & Found: The CUNY Poetics Document Initiative, City University of New York, 2019, pp 54.


© Serubiri Moses

> back to contents