MoMA Mixtape: Archibald Motley Helps José James See the Holy Ghost

There’s a deep, rich history of modern music and visual art inspiring each other. Think of Jean-Michel Basquiat blasting “Salt Peanuts” and “Groovin’ High” by Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, Pablo Picasso and Erik Satie collaborating on a ballet, or Yoko Ono turning her profound vision into one of the most powerful songs of our time, “Imagine.” As a frequent world traveler I try to see as much art as possible, and I’m always walking around a museum or a gallery vibing to a private soundtrack in my head. Now here at MoMA you can hear it too—I hope you dig it!

José James at MoMA, with Ja’Tovia Gary’s THE GIVERNY SUITE (2019)

Ja’Tovia Gary’s THE GIVERNY SUITE + Louis Armstrong’s “West End Blues”

This was the first thing I saw on my visit, and it was everything that I love about art. Breathtaking, engaging, overwhelming, and full of detail. Music is already part of the work; it includes two of my favorites, Louis Armstrong and Nina Simone. I found the balance between the video screens and the shrines to Yemaya and Oshun, the two deities of the Yoruba religion, to be fascinating and compelling. The musical piece I chose is “West End Blues,” written by Joe “King” Oliver and most famously performed by Louis Armstrong. Like that recording, not everything in Gary’s work is as it appears: repeated immersion is essential. Some of the strongest art appears completely accessible yet somehow also shrouded in mystery. In “West End Blues,” Armstrong presents a blueprint for the (nearly) 100 years of jazz that followed, from the opening declarative trumpet cadenza to his incredibly cool scat singing.

José James with Claude Monet’s Water Lilies (1914–26)

Claude Monet’s Water Lilies + Billy Strayhorn’s “Passion Flower”

I’ve been lucky enough to visit Monet’s home in Giverny several times (a beautiful connection—Ja’Tovia Gary’s THE GIVERNY SUITE was filmed there). The feeling that he created in his home is, to quote Duke Ellington, “beyond category.” I feel that in his work Monet was able to balance deep pain with the sheer joy of living on this planet. Ellington’s collaborator Billy Strayhorn was no stranger to that delicate balance, and his song “Passion Flower” wonderfully expresses the beauty, complexity and wonder of being alive.

Gustav Klimt’s Hope, II + Taali’s “Did We Die?”

There is so much to take in in Klimt’s painting. The background texture is exquisite, setting the contrast for the explosion of color that is the main figure, a pregnant woman perhaps lost in thought or prayer. Beneath her outstretched hand is a human skull nestled delicately within the folds of her voluminous robe. Does it represent the past? A fear of death? Woven into the hem of the garment is a chorus of women who are also lost in deep emotion or supplication. The brilliant singer-songwriter, composer, and arranger Taali’s haunting, repeated string figure in “Did We Die?” raises more questions than it answers, or perhaps it repeats the same prayer over again—this is music as mantra, as declaration. An emotional string quartet emerges, intertwining, expanding, and ultimately exploring faith and transformation. It serves as a reminder that hope is one of our greatest weapons against the darkness.

Gustav Klimt. Hope, II. 1907–08

José James with Eileen Gray’s Screen (1922)

Eileen Gray’s Screen + Miles Davis’s “Nefertiti”

This piece caught my eye not only for its exquisite form, height, and presence but also for the shadows it cast across the gallery. Viewed from different angles, the character and the function of the work changes and evolves: a screen becomes sculpture and then a barrier. Gray’s work is incredibly stylish, and both traditional and futuristic—it wouldn’t be out of place in Miles Davis’s 1970s Upper West Side home. Miles’s song “Nefertiti” complements it perfectly. On this track the trumpeter also innovates by conceptually staying in one fixed place, achieving freedom through repetition. Miles and saxophonist/composer Wayne Shorter famously decided in real time to keep repeating the melody while the rhythm section used improvisation to explore the composition’s every angle.

Archibald John Motley Jr.’s Tongues (Holy Rollers) + Charles Mingus’s “Better Git It in Your Soul”

In Motley’s painting, the Holy Ghost is in the room. The Spirit of God is moving the people to dance, sing, clap their hands, and make a joyful noise. Glory Hallelujah! As a musician I can honestly say that it’s rare for the power of music to be captured so fully in visual art. But it is so palpable here—the raised voices, guitar, and tambourine, the sound of heels on a wooden floor. The great bassist Charles Mingus and his brilliant musicians know these spaces intimately, always searching for the exact chord, the exact note that might change someone’s life or invite the Holy Spirit into the room. Glory be to the Highest!

Archibald John Motley Jr. Tongues (Holy Rollers). 1929

Joan Jonas. Mirror Check. 2019

Joan Jonas’s Mirror Check + My Brightest Diamond’s “This Is My Hand”

There is perhaps nothing more powerful than self-reclamation. Fifty years after the piece was created in the midst of the Women’s Rights Movement, Jonas’s work resonates as a critique and a reflection of our current digital era. It’s fascinating to view this work through the lens of TikTok and Instagram, and to consider that we have yet to elect a female president of the United States. In “This Is My Hand,” the dynamic singer/composer My Brightest Diamond details, catalogs, and claims every part of her physical, emotional, and spiritual body, finally declaring, “This is my aim: to love.”

Marcel Duchamp’s Anémic Cinéma + Flying Lotus’s “Brainfeeder”

I love this work: It’s at once high and low art, something Duchamp loved to pull off. You can imagine the Riddler hypnotizing the citizens of Gotham City via television, or an endless cosmic spiral that takes you to the depths of the cosmos, maybe even back to the origin of life. Both he and Flying Lotus like making attention-grabbing, thought-provoking statements that transform the cultural landscape. “Brainfeeder,” the trippy cinematic opening movement to one of the greatest albums of our time, Los Angeles, is the perfect selection to open your mind.

José James with Marcel Duchamp’s Anémic Cinéma (1926)

José James with Pablo Picasso’s Guitar (1914)

Pablo Picasso’s Guitar + Jimi Hendrix’s “The Star Spangled Banner”

It had to be done. Both Picasso and Hendrix were obsessive, restless artistic provocateurs—traditionalists who lived on the bleeding edge of their art and who pushed technique to the furthest boundaries. They shared the blues of an oppressed people and were vehemently antiwar. Radical ideas for radical times. Rock on!

Lina Bo Bardi’s Bowl chair + Baden Powell’s “Sarava”

The famous Bowl chair really has to be seen to be understood. Its character is friendly—not all chairs are friendly—and humanistic. It feels like a nest, a safe place to rest between the ups and downs of modern life. The music of Brazilian guitarist/composer Baden Powell is the perfect accompaniment—elegant, soulful, and undeniably human.

Lina Bo Bardi. Bowl chair. 1951

Installation view of Montien Boonma’s House of Hope

Montien Boonma’s House of Hope + Alice Coltrane’s “Going Home”

Through art, spaces become sacred. Places of worship, churches, temples, ashrams, and shrines are adorned with work that inspires one to connect with a higher power. Boonma’s work resonates with intention, energy, and spiritual purpose. Alice Coltrane—the jazz musician and composer turned spiritual devotee and leader—is the perfect musical foil. Serene, soulful, and powerful, her music is both soaring and grounded, “going home” in every sense of the phrase. For spiritual-minded people, going home can mean life after death, the great beyond, uniting with God or the cosmos. For musicians, going home means coming back to the one, the root chord that a song often ends on—a resolution. I love the idea of going home to a house of hope, eternally.

José James with Constantin Brâncuși’s Fish (1930)

Constantin Brâncuşi’s Fish + The Beach Boys’ “Don’t Worry Baby”

I’m fascinated by sculpture: the use of space and architecture, the humor and the seriousness. In the best sculptural work there’s often a stunning balance of tension; they can leave me with a “how in the world did they do that?” reaction. At first Brâncuşi’s work appears almost whimsical—a marble surfboard perched atop an industrial support. But soon depths are revealed in the contrasting textures and in the miracle of solid marble appearing to float weightlessly above the base. “Don’t Worry Baby” by the Beach Boys, a band led by the genius Brian Wilson, is a perfect companion. With repeated listening, the perfectly arranged details of the song come to light—the lead vocals and electric guitar in the left channel, the backing vocal responses in the right channel, the lyrics that hint at the dark edges and instability lurking amid the sunshine, hot rodding, and endless surf.

Musician José James blurs the lines between traditional and contemporary jazz, hip-hop, soul, funk, pop, and rock. He has released 12 albums in as many years for labels such as Brownswood, Impulse, Blue Note, and Rainbow Blonde Records, which he cofounded. He is the recipient of both the Edison Award and L’Académie du Jazz Grand Prix. A celebrated international performer, James has performed at the Kennedy Center, the Hollywood Bowl, Ancienne Belgique, and Billboard Live Tokyo, and he has performed as a guest artist with McCoy Tyner, Laura Mvula and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, and the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra.