Sun Ra Transcended Music into a “Space” All His Own
A visionary, envisioned.
From soundcheck in late-1970s Berkeley to the streets of Manhattan to Ra's Germantown home – Veryl Oakland was there, witnessing Sun Ra as himself. Travel back in time (and space) and explore the visionary through Veryl's lens.
I really got to know Sun Ra over the course of three years, starting in 1978.
After covering a Sun Ra Arkestra soundcheck at UC Berkeley, I talked to Ra for the first time, finding him very open and engaging. He expressed that jazz styles were changing and that listeners were craving to see and hear groups like his whose musical shows were more free, unpredictable and revolutionary.
I told him I wanted to do a comprehensive assignment with him back east, in his more familiar stomping grounds. After sharing phone numbers, I told him I’d be in touch.
Fast forward a year, I had a free day while on assignment with Swing Journal covering the 1979 Newport in New York Jazz Festival – and I reconnected with Sun Ra. I called him about a casual photo shoot, and despite having no commitments in the city, he took the train from Philly to Penn Station to meet me. And, he arrived with a satchel full of "Saturn Gowns" and "Galaxy Caps" – flashy capelets, shawls, headpieces – and said, "These will help liven up the photos."
We spent 2–3 hours walking through downtown Manhattan, with no real plan. He'd survey the surroundings, decide what to wear from his satchel; then I’d stop where the light and backdrop looked promising, and shoot. We kept on like that – He was unhurried, and so was I.
He had an innate sense of how to maximize each location, and how to present himself. All the while, New York kept moving around him, indifferent to his many transformations.
Some time later, I got a nice surprise: The 1980 Swing Journal jazz calendar was published, and one of the shots from my downtown adventure with Ra was featured – appropriately for May…both his ‘Arrival’ and ‘Departure’ month.
Returning to New York the following year, and after coordinating with Ra again, I took the train to Philadelphia to shoot him at 5626 Morton Street in Germantown – the Arkestra's rehearsal space and communal headquarters.
The main room was packed: recording equipment, speakers, paintings, tapestries, a drum set, overstuffed couches. I photographed him throughout the space, at his Crumar organ, with members of the Arkestra – all of the organized chaos of his world.
What struck me most, then and now, was Ra's absolute image-consciousness. Unlike any other musician I worked with, he loved being photographed and knew exactly how to control the narrative.
During that Germantown session, he made subtle outfit changes between each setup – a different cape, new headgear – yet I never saw him retrieve anything. It was as if he'd stashed things around the property beforehand.
Then, when I suggested we shoot outside with the rowhouse in the background, nine of his Solar Arkestra members suddenly appeared. No visible signal from Ra, yet there they were, perfectly timed.
After we finished shooting, we chatted for a while in his living room, and he gave me seven pages of his poetry – all from The Immeasurable Equation, his manuscript that was never published. He drew circles and symbols on them with a protractor, each one deliberate. I still don't fully understand what they meant, but I see "RA" within it.
With Sun Ra, you just took it all in.
