Keke Palmer Gets Raw On 'Just Keke': How The Multi-Hyphenate Reclaimed Her Narrative & Entered Her "Awareness Era"

Keke Palmer has made the evolution from child star to Hollywood empress look seamless. Whether it’s on set of a blockbuster movie, along the red carpet, or in the podcasting space, the actress, author, and entertainment mogul has remained the same Keke she’s always been.

For more than two decades, Palmer has been steadfast in her pursuits and intentional with her public image. She’s taken on bigger and more mature roles as an actress and launched KeyTV, a Los Angeles-based digital network that produces scripted and non-scripted shows starring other industry talents. As she’s expanded her horizons and ping-ponged from one big budget project to the next, she hasn't taken her sights off music.

Palmer has continuously poured into her music career. Beginning with 2007’s So Uncool to her newest release, Just Keke, the pop and R&B singer has gradually found her artistic footing. With the release of her latest album, Palmer has  shed the immeasurable weight of perfection that she carried for so long on her shoulders. 

Palmer has effectively abandoned the charismatic Hollywood persona reflected in her TV and movie roles and hilarious viral quips. Rather than disguise her anger, confliction, or heartbreak harbored since her last project, 2023's Big Boss, Palmer shed her previous "mask" in exchange for a mirror. Just Keke reflects the most authentic parts of Palmer's Hollywood star and Lauren, the girl from Harvey, Illinois who’s outgrown the small talk, lingering hangovers, and romantic drama. 

Released on June 20, Just Keke is Palmer’s rawest musical project to date. The album, and accompanying visual album, explores Palmer’s family life, her journey as a new mother, and her very public breakup. Throughout the album, she addresses her contentious split with Darius Jackson, and how her seconds-long dance with Usher at his Las Vegas residency in July 2023 placed an irreparable wedge between them. Rather than address it on social media, Palmer was compelled to put it to wax. 

Along with the pain of heartbreak, Palmer swats down the rumors and misconceptions that circulate online, and illuminates how motherhood and her recent experiences have made her an even firmer protector and believer in her future aspirations. GRAMMY.com spoke to the multihyphenate about her musical journey, how her role in an upcoming Boots Riley movie inspired her to get back into the studio, Issa Rae’s advice to go "Off Script," the honor of being memed, and her hopes to take her son, Leo, on tour for the album. 

The interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Between movies, TV shows and your podcast, how do you have time for music, especially a new album?

The conversation always leads you, meaning I don’t always have something to say for an album. I feel like in order to put an album out, you have to have a topic. A lot of the other things I do are collaborative projects, so it’s somebody else's words or it’s a role, or even hosting is just a curiosity of life. 

But with [Just Keke], it’s like me putting all of my thoughts together — everything that I feel like I’ve learned or I want to reflect from society. It really guides me. Once I feel that feeling, then I make the time to put that project together. Otherwise, I kind of allow myself to keep living until that itch comes back. 

You even recorded Just Keke while filming a new film. What was that balancing act like?

It was something I needed because, as I said, that itch came back. I was working on this project for a while, and I was working on [the Boots Riley film, I Love Boosters]. I think being in that energy I was like, I think I’m ready. I should start trying to get my words out. 

Every night after I was on set, or on the weekend before I went back to start my week, Tayla Parx and Ispent about four days working on the project. And it just gave me that break that I needed. Sometimes when I’m doing one thing for a long time — whether it be a TV show, a movie, or my podcast — I need to mix it up. I needed to do something different, and it happened to be music. I was also ready to tell my story for this time period of my life. 

It’s been two years since Big Boss. How was your approach different this go around?

Well, I think I'm a way different person, and my conversation is different with myself. People say this is my most personal album, and I agree. Not because I was being fake on the other ones, but because anytime that you are deeper with yourself, it just changes the way you speak and communicate with others. It’s like a lived experience that just evolved me in a way that I didn’t even know I could evolve to. It just opened up a different perspective for me that you hear in the music.

This album was a peeling back of the layers and showing the world an insight into the life of Keke the entertainer, and Lauren the person. Were there any moments you thought might have been a bit too close to the chest?

Yes, and that’s the reason why I wanted to work with Tayla on the project because she was somebody that I trusted; not just because she’s so skilled, but because she cares about me. 

My [relationship] with my audience is communal. I’m a Black girl, I’m a Black millennial, and I’m a young person — I take all that seriously. That’s how my parents raised me with my platform. But at the end of the day, I’m a human being. People saw me, in the most public way, go through a very human experience. So, as a person and as an artist, not to address [the public breakup] would be a halt in my growth as a person. I didn’t want to exploit myself, but I wanted to talk about how this has impacted me… how the relationship impacted the way I perceive myself, and all the other ways that I needed to grow and heal.

It was kind of the inciting incident that allowed that barrier of feeling, that weight of perfection to kind of crumble. 

You dug deep on "My Confession." Was there a moment where you thought, Damn, maybe I went too far?

There absolutely was. And by the way, we went through that with every song, damn near. From "Off Script" to "Misunderstood" and "Expose." We went through that multiple times, but definitely with "My Confession," especially with the family line. I was thinking, Well, how much can I say? How were we going to say it?

The way [Tayla] produces projects, it’s not just what I’m saying. It’s also how I’m saying it, the inflections and the vibe. You really get to tap into the energy of how I feel that I’m confessing. I’m truly getting this s— off my chest that I need to get off, and it hurts to get it off my chest because I’m not trying to make nobody look crazy or look bad, but it’s part of my life. And I need to own my truth. 

It was very much a back and forth type of thing where I’m thinking, Damn, is this too messy? But music is your diary. Music is a big, deep expression for any artist that’s trying to be true. Again, it wasn’t that other projects I wasn’t trying to be honest. I didn’t have these experiences to realize that. The music went further on Just Keke because I further as a person. 

How would you define this new personal or artistic era you’re in?

I think this is like an awareness era; a true observational era in moving from just being the performer to also presenting to my audience that I'm the architect. Like, this is what Keke Palmer the brand is going to be talking about this season. 

With Just Keke, it’s clear that I’m talking about fragmentation, integration, and what it means to be a product. I’m talking about becoming who you are in front of the world. I'm talking about your love life and your love story not turning out the way that you want it. But I'm doing it with artistic awareness, while I also take you through the journey as the business and the creative person behind it. I put this together to transmute my personal experience, but in an art form. I’m taking off the mask, so to speak, and saying, "Hey, this is what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and how I’m doing it." 

In another interview, you said this album was about, "Turning your mask into a mirror." Break that down for me.

I call my fans my miracles. I never called them anything before because it always felt kind of strange to me. But then after this experience, I was just sitting with myself and looking at my life, I thought, They’re my miracles. They saw it in me before I saw it for myself. 

And we’re reflecting each other back to one another. Anytime you get memed, it’s because people see themselves in you, and that’s the biggest and greatest honor. I think I have a unique relationship with my generation. I feel mirrored by them, and they feel mirrored by me. I think that’s really special because that means they see the truth. 

As a performer, I always try to keep it on point. But whether it was at the Met Gala, when I said, "It’s your girl," or when I did Vanity Fair and I said, "Sorry, to that man," they saw the real person. Even though I was trying to be as perfect as I could, they already knew I wasn’t perfect. And that’s what they love about me. And for me, it’s about taking off the mask and owning being in front of the mirror. Being that mirror for them, and being that mirror for me. 

Within the last two years, you became a mother. How do you feel motherhood has inspired you creatively, or even beyond music?

Motherhood has just made me braver. I think that's spilled into everything that I do — the ability to just have the courage to say "no" and have boundaries. To be firm in times when I was it wasn’t as easy to do it myself, but I knew that my son was watching. I knew this was going to affect my son because it’s going to affect me. 

I think it’s hard sometimes for people to stand up for themselves, even for the most confident people you can think of. It can be tough, but when you have a child, it becomes so detrimental. The child needs you, so you become stronger, braver, and more loving to yourself simply because you need to be for the kid. That’s the biggest way my son has impacted my life. 

On the visual album, you honor R&B icons like Whitney Houston and Brandy. Do you see parts of yourself in them?

They’re commercial icons, but they’re also Black women. A lot of what we speak to is generally flattened, fetishized, or it becomes a mockery because of the nature of our society. When I looked at women like Brandy and Whitney, I saw myself in them and saw them trying to become who they are in front of the world. It was never enough; [even] when you’re trying to be perfect, trying to do everything right. 

I remember when Brandy first had her child, and people were shocked. And when people judged Whitney, too. I feel like it’s just a rite of passage when you decide to be somebody in front of the world. I just wanted to honor them because they deserve to be honored for who they are, not for who people wanted them to be. At the end of the day, that’s what I’m saying with Just Keke. Maybe I’m not perfect. Maybe I’m just misunderstood, and maybe I’m not everything you want me to be, but I’m doing my damn best. All I can be is Keke, just like Whitney could only be Whitney, and Brandy could only be Brandy. That’s what’s necessary as we encourage the next generation to come into their own. 

The album wasn’t just filled with heavy material. The song "Tea, Boo" is a fun, house-inspired record. How was it putting songs like those together for Just Keke?

"Tea, Boo" is obviously like my personality. I think all the songs speak to different vibes of me. But "Tea, Boo" is like, "Hey, we’re kicking back, having fun, and let’s make a moment." 

"Tea, Boo" was a lot of fun. We were in the studio, and I was literally asking for some tea. And I was like, "Okay, I have some tea, boo." And Mike, the guy who was in there writing with me, was like, "What’s tea-boo?" And I was like, "No, I’m saying tea, comma, boo." And he was like, "That’s a song." From there, we started working on this record, and it was so fun. I wrote it around the same time as my book, Master of Me, so I was in the early stages of getting back into music. I kept it in the tuck, and felt it was perfect for the album. 

You were gloating on "Ripples," and included your family in the vignette during the visual album. That had to have been a special moment.

I was showcasing the side of me I damn near forgot about myself because I was doing everything that I could to be Keke Palmer. But there’s Lauren Palmer inside that created that persona to be able to survive. But now, I don’t have to do it to survive. I can do it with intention. 

Aside from talking my s—, I also wanted to show what it means to build a legacy. To show this is what it means to play your role in your family, and to continue to do what you need to do at all costs. My family has supported me. I’ve supported them, and they won’t stop. That’s how we’re going to keep doing it. That’s how I was raised. My dad talked to me about [actors] Ruby Dee, Ossie Davis, and I remember meeting Kyla Pratt for the first time. I was so nervous that I didn’t say anything. And he was like, "You need to always show respect to the people that put on before you." He was kind of checking me, even though I was starstruck. I think about that often because he was like, "You’re not in competition with each other." We are in support of one another, and we have to give each other flowers whenever we see each other. It’s like we all have ripples that we come from, so we have to pay respect to that."  

Will you have a tour for this album? And if so, will baby Leo be on board for the ride?

You know that baby Leo has to come. I literally can’t leave without baby Leo. I would love to figure out a way. I don’t know what my tour is going to be like because I definitely feel like it has to be its own shape. I’m a musician, but how I see myself as an artist is everything at once. I want to figure out what’s the best way to do that kind of show because it has to be very much Just Keke. But doing a show and doing a tour is definitely on my list. It’s been the main thing me and my team have been talking about.

– Grammy.com

The two-man Philly shop responsible for some of the iconic ‘Severance’ furniture

Outside the elevator doors of Lumon Industries’ severed floor, Severance‘s Miss Huang (Sarah Bock) awaits the arrival of Mark Scout (Adam Scott) and the company’s other “microdata refiners.”

The young deputy manager sits on a green bench, which has made its way to the AppleTV+ series from Columbus, Ind., by way of a Philadelphia shop.

While audiences kept an eye out for stunning revelations, furniture dealers and Rarify founders David Rosenwasser and Jeremy Bilotti squinted their eyes for a sharper look at one of their finds.

Miss Huang’s seat was a modified version of the John Behringer 1961 Link Bench the duo scored in Columbus, which they called the “mecca for modern architecture.”

“That was the first piece we saw sequentially that we were like, ‘Oh shoot, there it is!‘,” Rosenwasser said. “We knew it was a cool piece, but we didn’t know what it was going to be.” Reupholstered in green for the screen, the bench is one of several Rarify finds seen throughout the second season of the superhit TV show.

After years restoring and selling one-off vintage furniture pieces, the MIT and Harvard grads merged their interests in architecture, manufacturing research, and vintage furniture four years ago. The result was Rarify, the designer-led furniture and lighting dealership that sources hard-to-find furniture, refurbishes, and then sells them.

Last year, Rosenwasser and Bilotti opened their Bella Vista showroom at 735 Bainbridge St., while their larger collection is stored in a 80,000-square-foot warehouse in Lebanon, Pa.

“It was always something that was built from the ground up,” Bilotti said. “It started off as restoring just one single huge chair, which is wild to think about.”

The self-proclaimed “vintage furniture nerds” hand-picked the 1960s midcentury conference tables, desktops, prism lounges, and finely-crafted credenzas that fit the dark and ambiguous world of Severance creator Dan Erikson.

“They look almost futuristic, but they are also sort of vintage and retro in the same way,” Bilotti said. “There was intentionality behind what the decorators were doing, and the furniture and design of the spaces, the architecture, contributes to that in a very intentional way, which we really love.”

The furniture helps define the unsettling labyrinth below the surface of the Lumon Industries building, where Mark Scout, his coworkers, and partial love interest, Helly (Britt Lower), transform from their everyday selves (outies) into their Lumon identities (or innies).

Along with Miss Huang’s bench, other Rarify collectibles that made it to the show include a $15,500 Washington Prism lounge, ottoman, and table set by David Adjaye that finds pride of place in the muted and haunting home of Jame Eagan (Michael Siberry).

A Gerald Luss credenza ($19,950) stands in Burt Goodman (Christopher Walken) and husband Fields’ (John Noble) home, in a scene that was shot in the actual Gerald Luss House in Ossining, NY. There was also a full suite of Jens Risom and Florence Knoll pieces at the fictional Ganz College, where Mark and his wife, Gemma Scout (Dichen Lachman), first met and worked.

But the biggest shock came seeing one of their finds at the center of the explosive season finale.

The baby crib at the center of “Cold Harbor,” where Gemma Scout is forced to confront one of her last (and most traumatizing) memories, also came from Rosenwasser and Bilotti. And yes — spoiler alert — they spotted the oak-colored crib in an earlier episode in Mark and Gemma’s house before it moved inside in “Cold Harbor.”

“I didn’t really process the crib,” Rosenwasser said. “It didn’t really hit me because you couldn’t see it that well [earlier in the season]. And then on the last episode, it’s like, ‘there it is!’”

The Severance team, they said, even designed a custom box for the crib with “COL d’ARBOR” written across.

Bilotti and Rosenwasser found the crib by designer craftsman Charles Webb in Cambridge, Mass., after a lengthy search. When the Severance team wanted two of them, the duo scrambled to find one just in time for production “somewhere in the Midwest.”

The level of detail interwoven into the show’s story lines also went into its set design and decoration, Bilotti said. Both of them, he said, were thrilled to play a part in the three-year project.

“It’s wonderful for us as people in the furniture and design world to see such public interest in these pieces … We hope that we’ve made a tiny impact, and maybe educated some people, too,” Bilotti said.

Bilotti and Rosenwasser caught the attention of Jeanelle Marie, Severance‘s assistant set decorator, thanks to word-of-mouth and a series of viral videos of showcasing their restoration process and growing vintage collection.

After the pair collaborated with Marie on the Kaley Cuoco-led series The Flight Attendant, they met the then newly-assigned Severance set decorator, David Schlesinger, who had previously crafted sets for Knives Out, Hustle, The Equalizer 2, and Leave the World Behind. In February 2023, Rosenwasser and Bilotti showed Schlesinger their 15,000-plus collection in their Central Pennsylvania warehouse.

Once Schlesinger left, the duo started receiving “urgent” phone calls and emails from the show’s set decoration team, requesting hard-to-find items that weren’t in high circulation. The inquiries set the partners off on deep dives looking for pieces that could furnish the vague world of Severance, which blurs the line between the past, future, and present.

“They were looking for the best of the best that hadn’t been widely covered in culture and media,” Rosenwasser said. “If you could buy it from a furniture store today, it was a lot less appealing.” The ones that made it onto set, he said, were often in short supply.

Billoti and Rosenwasser sourced the pieces and shipped them to the shooting locations in central New Jersey or New York’s Hudson Valley.

“There were super-specialty things that were really unique, and they would need 10 of them. It was quite a challenge,“ Rosenwasser said. ”But we scoured the interweb, and by luck, there were other ones out there.”

For every item that made it into the show, Bilotti said, there were at least two more that didn’t. That list includes a John Nyquist desk chair, Lehigh Leopold end table, Lewis Butler coffee table, and an assortment of other fittings.

For Bilotti, Severance has become a version of AMC’s Mad Men. “The set of Mad Men was so integral to the identity, that made it a hit TV show. The same goes for the Bell Works headquarters, Gerald Luss House, and the other architectural works that Severance is filmed in. The furniture is a part of the lore of the story."

Is a third season collaboration in the works for Bilotti and Rosenwasser?

“We’re crossing our fingers,” Bilotti said.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

A ‘bald baby’ JD Vance mural has popped up in Fishtown

Last week, a mural of U.S. Vice President JD Vance debuted on the side wall of Fishtown restaurant Sulimay’s.

The image is one of many memes of Vance that have been circulating on the internet. The images include Minion Vance, Shrek Vance, and even one where he appears as the Las Vegas sphere.

The Fishtown mural shows a wide-eyed, chubbier version of the vice president’s face but with a bald head, often referred to as the “bald baby” or “baby Vance” meme.

Videos of the mural have amassed millions of views on social media. On Sunday, TikTok user Paige Weinman posted a video of the mural that’s gained 900,000 likes and nearly 3 million views.

The bottom right of the mural reads “FUBARPAC,” an acronym for F–ed Up Beyond All Recognition/Repair. PAC is a political action committee.

Jack Inacker, a Philly native and founder of FUBAR PAC — self-defined as a “veteran-led Democratic opposition, waging a ruthless year-round campaign against MAGA cowards and their allies” — is the brain behind the Fishtown mural.

After months of exchanging Vance memes with a friend, Inacker decided to project the images against a prominent wall for Philadelphians to see. After further thought, he decided a painting would draw even more attention.

He made a post in the Philadelphia subreddit, asking if he could use someone’s wall for the project. Among the three users that responded, Inacker said Sulimay’s was the “perfect” fit.

Sulimay’s owner Chad Todd said he backed Inacker’s idea to highlight how “deplorable” both President Donald Trump and Vice President Vance have been since being sworn into office in January.

“No moral person can support what they’re doing,” Todd said. “I’ll take any opportunity to bring attention to it.”

Last Friday, Inacker brought along a projector, a handful of Sharpies, about $200 worth of paint from Lowe’s, and an artist friend.

They began by tracing over a projected image, then filling it with color until the piece was finished 12 hours later. Fishtown residents stopped by to lend a hand, Inacker said. Some suggested touch-ups, like adding eyeliner.

While the muralized meme of Vance is largely seen as something comical, Inacker said its purpose is to forge community and shed light on the Trump administration’s crippling federal financial cuts.

“Painting a meme on the side of a building is dumb bulls—, right?” Inacker said. “It’s fun to do with your friends, but I wanted to figure out a way to transform that into some meaningful action as well.”

In a TikTok posted Monday, Inacker showed a time-lapse of the mural’s creation. The clips were overlaid with references to Vance’s stance on cuts to foreign aid, the increased cost of Medicaid, and the lives impacted by Trump and Vance’s decisions.

Inacker plans to place a small plaque at the bottom of the mural with a QR code that directs people to a voter registration form.

He loves that the mural serves as a photo opp, but he wants it to become a resource and inspire people to think about political issues in their own way.

“I want to make sure that the barrier to entry to politics is really low, that more folks can get involved, and they don’t have to do serious things all the time,” he said. “They can have a party together to paint their own JD.”

With the mural, Fishtown joins somewhat of a global movement as altered images of Vance have become an international fixture.

In June, a Norwegian tourist claimed he was denied U.S. entry at Newark Liberty International Airport because he had downloaded the bald baby meme on his phone. The Trump administration refuted his claim, saying he was denied because of “admitted drug use.”

Weinman said she was surprised by the interest her post generated, but not by the popularity of the mural itself.

“We were like, ‘Oh, if you’re going to deny travelers the ability to come into the country because of their political views, their sense of humor, or their private conversations, that’s something that really stands in opposition to American values.’ So, I can understand why that image really took off in general, and why so many people find it funny.”

Similar murals of Vance have popped up on the vice president’s recent England tour. Last week, a poster by the “Everyone Hates Elon” protest group displayed the same image of Vance on a billboard in Cheltenham, Oxfordshire.

Todd said he has no plans to remove the mural from the restaurant’s wall just yet.

“As long as the positivity continues, it will stay up,” he said. “But I really don’t want to look at that for the rest of the year. It’s slightly terrifying, and freaking out the kids is a concern.”

The story has been updated to include comments from Sulimay’s.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

An Ardmore ceramic artist will turn your loved one’s ashes into an object of your choice

When artist Daniel Hoffman‘s aunt Sheila Rocco passed away in 2011, Hoffman, who was then studying ceramics at Ohio State University, sank into an emotional pit. The only way out, to him, was to create an heirloom that would honor her life.

Weeks later, Hoffman handcrafted a light blue vase, which would be deemed natural for a student of ceramic arts. Only this time, he added a bit of her remains to the glimmering semi-clear glaze, a practice that would go on to define his career, years later.

“It was a super personal way to get started in this field,” Hoffman said. “She was a really special person to me.”

After years of working as a video producer, animator, and creative director, Hoffman established Ahava Memorials in December 2024. He creates multicolored ornaments, twist vases, candle luminaries, and planters in honor of departed loved ones, using their ashes.

“I want customers to really feel that each piece is individual and unique,” the Ardmore-based artist said.

The name Ahava translates to “love” in Hebrew. “It’s an emotional business,” Hoffman said, “and one that requires a layer of trust that few other art specialties do.”

Customers start by selecting a shape and color for the ceramic piece that they think best honors their loved one.

When order requests arrive, Hoffman sends customers a collection kit, along with a personal message assuring them that memories of their loved ones are in trusted hands.

The kit, containing a U.S. Postal Service human remains box, contains a premeasured container for customers to place ashes in. Once shipped, Hoffman picks it up from a secure P.O. box and begins the ceramic-making process.

That process involves melding bone ash into a glaze-covered ceramic, using a technique first used in the late-18th century by bone china potter Josiah Spode. But instead of forming cattle bones into hardened clay, as Spode did, Hoffman integrates and seals the ashes into a glaze.

The glaze is then hand-brushed onto a premade ceramic object and placed in a kiln. Once the kiln reaches roughly 1,886° Fahrenheit, the ash-infused glaze is firmly coated onto the ceramic, which becomes the final memorial object.

Among Hoffman’s most popular designs are blue, green, and red-coated vases, ornaments, and planters honoring beloved people and pets.

The process, Hoffman said, is a “ton of trial and error.” He spent months building out his home studio and perfecting reliable glaze techniques that would help him create perfect shades of pinks, blues, and reds. And as he’s grown more comfortable with his newly formed designs over the past year, Hoffman’s customer base and offerings have expanded.

Along with new colors and design options, he now casts multiple ceramic objects with one set of remains, and even integrates multiple remains into one design.

Hoffman said he wanted his products to be accessible to everyday buyers. Prices range between $210 and $745, depending on the desired shape, color, and size.

With more people entrusting him with these projects, Hoffman said it has become an even more enriching experience.

“It feels like they’re giving to me as much as I’m giving to them when I make a product for them,” he said. “It’s a special relationship with this product.”

While memorial ceramics seemed like a destined path for Hoffman in college, he never envisioned using his artistic gifts in this way.

“There are a million ways to make a career in the arts,” Hoffman said. “I just kind of found my way doing this.”

He first toiled with clay art as a teenager at Fleisher Art Memorial in South Philly, where he was taught by former chief U.S. Mint engraver Frank Gasparo, who inspired him to pursue a career in ceramics.

After graduating from Temple University and Ohio State, he ventured into studio art, video production, and animation, which led to a role at Comcast as the designer of Jumbotron motion graphics.

It wasn’t until he was laid off as Five Below’s creative director that his passion for memorial-style ceramics was renewed. This time, he was determined to turn it into a full-fledged business.

“I parked this idea for a long time. I tried building it on the side while I was working, but that just wasn’t happening,” he said.

Hoffman said the first phase of production was “hectic,” but with Ahava in full swing now, he is able to forge the kind of relationships with his customers that he first intended. Helping people through grief “feels like an act of giving,” he said.

As the business expands, Hoffman plans to collaborate with crematoriums in the area and dedicate most of his time to creating new products.

He wants to integrate more shapes, colors, and designs into Ahava Memorials, so that the pieces are even more personal to his customers.

A year of leadership shifts later, the Greater Philadelphia Film Office is charting new successes

In the Philly film world, Sharon Pinkenson was a trailblazer among trailblazers.

As longtime executive director of the Greater Philadelphia Film Office, she made Philadelphia a destination for Hollywood productions. This led to the filming of classics like 12 Monkeys and Silver Linings Playbook in the region and cleared the path for future films, true-crime shows, documentaries, music videos, and commercials.

When Pinkenson stepped down from the film commission in November 2024, after three decades at the helm, it fell upon longtime employees Erin Wagner and Nicole Shiner to carry forward the work of their charismatic mentor.

It’s been a year since they stepped into their roles as co-executive directors, and Shiner said the 20 years they spent under Pinkenson’s wing have begun to pay dividends.

“Having someone who’s been in the position for so long, and who had such a grand reputation and did so much for the community, it’s been hard coming in after her,” she said. “But the good news is, [Wagner] and I have been here for 20 years. We have a lot of institutional knowledge about how to move forward.”

The past year, she said, has drawn expected challenges. Among them is the loss of longtime film office director Joan Bressler, whom Pinkenson hired six months after becoming executive director. Bressler retired in August after 30+ years at the film office.

“She ate, slept, and dreamed of local film,” Wagner said. “She is an amazing woman who ran every program the film office had.”

Without the film office’s most tenured and recognizable leaders at the helm, Wagner said, the duo spent the past year reintroducing themselves to government officials, Hollywood executives, and members of Philly’s film community. The goal was to establish themselves as trusted resources and to showcase their “fresh, down-to-earth approach” as film office leaders.

“We talk up our local crew, our tax credits, our locations, and just remind people that we’re a short drive from New York. We’re close to D.C.,” said Wagner, who has spent many years as the film commission’s production coordinator. “We have an international airport, and we have some of the hardest-working crews in the film business. Don’t discount us.”

“[Pinkenson] taught us very well,” she said. “But at the same time, we’re different people and a different generation, and we just want to remind people that we’re here to help.”

Producer Nancy Glass, who has spearheaded several true crime shows filmed in the region, said Shiner and Wagner have been integral in making her projects come to fruition.

“They are very active and very helpful. They have time for everybody, and that’s really impressive.”

As the new faces of the film office, Wagner and Shiner have made use of their strengths. “I think we really do balance each other out,” Shiner said.

While Wagner handles the “new world of politics,” Shiner has taken on the financial side of the operation. She oversees available tax credits, finance fees, and other operational costs associated with the nonprofit organization.

Wagner’s connections with local crew members have been a boon.

During the filming of the HBO crime drama Task, 777 Pennsylvanians were hired as local crew, cast members, and background players for 177 days. Shiner said the production accounted for a $230 million economic impact on the region.

“We already know how great Philly is,” Wagner said. “The rest of the world’s finally catching up. Even though some of the projects may not have been filmed here, they may have come down for one or two days. But that puts our crew to work, and that’s what we’re happy to see.”

The duo are also building programs in direct support of emerging filmmakers.

Shiner and Wagner have entrusted Daniela Galdi, the new director of filmmakers, with relaunching the long-running Set in Philadelphia Screenwriting Competition.

The competition, now called the Joan Bressler Set in Philadelphia Screenwriting Competition, in Bressler’s honor, is open to all screenwriters who submit a screenplay for a feature-length project or original TV pilot that can be shot in the Greater Philly area. All genres are welcome.

The final deadline for the competition is Nov. 20, and the top winner will be awarded $10,000 to fund their future Philly-set project.

In the new year, they also plan to develop training workshops and hands-on programs to keep local crew members equipped with the latest production technology and techniques, ensuring they have the skills necessary to work on upcoming productions.

“Film is always changing,” Shiner said. “There’s always new technology, and if we don’t keep up and provide that education, those workshops, and the opportunities for people to learn about their craft, our workforce will suffer.”

The yearlong transition, Wagner said, has been “eye-opening” and “humbling.” She’s optimistic about the duo’s relationships with county partners and local legislators, and she’s thrilled for the future productions coming to town.

“I think that these people see a future in film and television and media and workforce development with us, and they see that we’re knocking on doors and don’t plan on leaving,” Shiner said. “We want to forge our own legacy. Not only follow [Pinkenson’s] footsteps, but create our own.”

While they remained tight-lipped on projects coming to the Greater Philadelphia area, Shiner and Wagner teased that there will be something big for the region’s true crime junkies.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

Penn Museum unveils a new gallery that examines the struggles and resilience of Indigenous nations

For more than a decade, the Penn Museum has offered visitors an encyclopedic history and perspective on Native American history, with artifacts spanning from Alaska tribes to communities in the southernmost part of the continental United States.

On Saturday, the museum unveiled a new gallery showcasing the artistic, linguistic, spiritual, and revolutionary traditions of Native Americans across the country.

The Penn Museum’s "Native North America Gallery: Rooted in Resilience. Resisting Erasure" exhibit features more than 250 cultural items and art pieces.

Christopher Woods, Williams director of Penn Museum, said the new gallery builds on the institution’s expansive Native American collection while offering insights into the lives of Indigenous Americans today. It builds on a former gallery, which similarly focused on first-person narratives and consulted with Indigenous curators.

“We’re an archaeology museum, but this is really about Native American people today, and drawing on the connection between the past and the contemporary world. It’s important to show people that these are vibrant communities,” Woods said during a press preview. “Showing how strong they are, the nature of their resilience, the historical and cultural erasure, and having them speak in their own words is important.”

These works, which build on the previous exhibition, "Native American Voices: The People - Here and Now," that closed in July, offer a reframing of Native American history from four regions of the United States, including the Lenape Natives of the Delaware.

The immersive, multisensory exhibit includes a floral beadwork collar from the Northeast Lenape, a single-weave square basket from the Eastern Band Cherokee in the Southeast, a centuries-old clay ancestral mug from the Pueblo people of the Southwest, and a fringed ceremonial robe, known as a Chilkat blanket, from the Tlingit people of the Northwest.

Among the oldest items on view are chipped stone tools historically used by Native Americans, which were pulled from the Penn Museum’s collections. The newest items include a woven piece that was commissioned from Cherokee mixed media sculptor Brenda Mallory.

The gallery also includes images of regions the tribal nations have inhabited, interactive displays offering insight into the formation of their cultural items, tools, and regalia, and varying stories about their traditions, challenges, and resilience before and after European contact.

Alongside co-curators Lucy Fowler Williams and Megan Kassabaum, this comprehensive gallery was developed by cultural educators, archaeologists, and historians who are direct descendants and members of the tribal nations featured in the exhibit.

Among the eight Indigenous consultant curators, who served as narrative guides, were Jeremy Johnson, cultural education director of the Delaware Tribe of Indians, RaeLynn Butler, secretary of culture and humanities of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation, and Christopher Lewis, cultural specialist of the Zuni Pueblo.

The consulting curators assisted in creating the narrative flow of the gallery and worked with the Penn Museum to recover lost history and study their ancestors’ practices. They also contributed their own art and cultural items to the gallery.

Upon seeing the exhibition for the first time on Thursday, Johnson said it was an “emotional moment.”

“It was overwhelming,” he said. “It’s not just a room with a bunch of paintings or drawings. These are actual people I lived with, know, and are related to. I can tell you about every person here. Being able to give our tribal citizens, considering everyone is a relative, a voice was really emotional. We’ve always been seen as relics of the past.”

Kassabaum said the concept of the exhibit began four years ago, but many of the gallery’s elements were shaped by the consulting curators, who willingly shared their stories and welcomed Kassabaum and others into their communities.

Kassabaum and other Penn Museum consultants traveled to Oklahoma to spend a week with members of the Delaware Tribe. They brought back four items, including the floral beaded collar, and let their protectors relay how they were made.

Those kinds of connections can’t be made without the help of the consulting curators, Kassabaum said.

“These aren’t my stories and they’re not my experiences,” he said. “I have not experienced any of the trauma of these communities. I have not experienced the joy of these communities, and everything people have been willing to share with us has been incredible. … No matter how giddy or passionate I am about anthropology and archaeology, I can’t bring the same thing to the gallery. It was totally essential.”

Unlike other exhibitions sprawled throughout the country, Johnson said Penn’s inclusion of him and his Native “relatives” was based in good faith rather than historical or cultural exploitation.

“We know certain art museums have been problematic in the past, and are still doing that work,” Johnson said. “But I feel this is the first time we were asked in the right way. It was in the spirit of an actual collaboration, instead of asking for items to display, and that’s it. This was a good process, and we hope it stands as a model for future exhibits.”

The opening ceremony of the Native North America Gallery kicked off with remarks from Johnson and the other Indigenous consulting curators.

Their remarks were followed by traditional dance, songs, and storytelling by New Mexico’s Tewa Dancers. There was also an artist talk by Holly Wilson of the Delaware Nation, curatorial presentations led by Johnson and Joseph Aguilar of the San Ildefonso Pueblo, and a series of family workshops.

The gallery, which is now on display, is available for online and in-person viewing.

Visitors can reserve guided, in-person tours on select days. Tickets are priced at $26 for members and $30 for general admission. For more information, visit penn.museum.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

An artist started befriending strangers in Pa. prisons. Now she is turning them into artwork.

Over the course of three years, Carolyn Harper and Donna Martorano became fast friends.

The two women, on different sides of Pennsylvania, lived very different lives and shared few similarities. But they bonded over emails, handwritten letters, and virtual visits.

Martorano shared tales of her family, her health issues, her hopes of reconnecting with her two sons, and her growing sense of detachment from the outside world.

They spoke daily, but before they could meet, Martorano died in July 2024 at age 74 at the State Correctional Institution in Cambridge Springs. She was serving a life sentence without parole for first-degree murder for contracting two men to kill her husband in 1992.

The official cause of her death was a heart attack.

Harper said Martorano’s past and conviction weren’t the end of her story. In the 32 years she was incarcerated, Harper said, Martorano became a certified braille transcriber and took violence prevention and mentoring programs.

But in her later years, she grew increasingly “bitter,” Harper said. Martorano was confined to her bed and wheelchair and was often bullied as her health worsened.

“Her spirits were crushed,” Harper said. “I really feel she died of a broken heart because she was not given institutional support. A lot of prison administrators just don’t care. She told me she had nothing left to live for.”

For the past five years, Harper, 60, has connected with dozens of other incarcerated people, some with stories similar to Martorano’s and others with far different lives.

These stories, Harper said, opened her eyes to the emptiness, detachment, and inhumanity people experience in prisons.

Their names, faces, and stories are now at the center of her latest portrait series, “Prison Portrait Project: Faces of Despair, Hope and Transformation," on display at Old City’s Muse Gallery.

Harper has placed their portraits on hand-sewn quilts and vibrant batiks, transforming the faces of those suffering from the country’s carceral system into artwork.

Like Martorano, several of Harper’s subjects are serving death sentences, with little to no path for early release or commutation. Harper has never asked specific questions about their pasts, and everything she knows about them is what she has been told voluntarily. But she’s certain about one thing: None of the people she has befriended is the same person they were when they were first incarcerated.

Pennsylvania, she found out, is one of two states in the country that has a mandatory life without parole sentence, known as “death by incarceration,” for both first-degree and second-degree felony murder.

“I have come to see that guilt or innocence, while important, is not the critical thing here,” Harper said. ”It’s the idea of redemption and rehabilitation. This, to me, is the real story — the story of transformation.”

For decades, people suffering from abuse, discrimination, and disenfranchisement have made their way onto Harper’s quilts.

In the mid-1990s, she created panels for the AIDS Memorial Quilt, a visual project that memorializes the hundreds of thousands of Americans who died from AIDS-related causes at the height of the epidemic.

She also developed a series of textile portraits championing queer love stories, and another shedding light on the systemic issues faced by those wrestling with dispossession and homelessness.

“People often come out of prison and don’t have a pathway to find a real job or housing,” Harper said. “I started to see that connection, and I became interested in the issue of incarceration.

“We pay lip service to this idea that prison is reformative, but really it’s punitive.”

Born in Rochester, N.Y., Harper moved to Philadelphia in 1989 to study art at the University of Pennsylvania. Her days volunteering as an art teacher at local homeless shelters from 2013 to 2020 are what first drew her to the links between homelessness, dispossession, and incarceration. She was driven to learn more about the state’s prison system.

After her best friend was arrested in 2020 for abusing his husband, Harper’s interest became a lived reality. The health of her friend, who struggled with addiction and mental health issues, worsened due to his incarceration. Shortly after his release in 2021, he took his own life.

That pushed Harper to join organizations such as the Coalition to Abolish Death by Incarceration, We The People Coalition, and others. She wrote postcards, letters, and emails to incarcerated people throughout the state.

Before this, a self-described “snowflake,” Harper would veer away from conversations about incarceration. She started out fearing that she wouldn’t be able to emotionally cope with the struggles incarcerated people endure and write to her about in their letters. But she grew to become a listening ear, resource, and friend to people seeking human connection.

Through her hand-sewn and fabric-dyed portraits, she encourages her audience to step outside their worlds and enter the worlds of her subjects. Through her art, she highlights the forgotten humanity of incarcerated people and uses their testimonies to draw attention to Pennsylvania’s “harsh sentencing laws,” and correct the misconceptions people hold of those who are incarcerated.

The “Prison Portrait Project” started off with Harper writing to the people whose names, faces, and stories make up her art. Would they send her a photograph, she asked, and consent to be a part of her exhibition?

Most replied with a photo or told Harper where she could find one. Others had family members send photos to her. After she sewed them or transferred them onto quilts, Harper shared images of the final pieces with the subjects of the expressive portraits.

“I think seeing their self-portrait, and knowing it’s going in an exhibition, helps them see themselves in a different light. And that can be empowering,” Harper said.

Each quilt and batik-style image features a written statement from the person who inspired the portrait, ensuring their stories (along with their faces) are integral parts of the exhibit.

A binder containing more stories, statements, and poems written by people Harper connected with through the years, sits at the front of the gallery. Three self-portraits of incarcerated artists are also on display.

Harper is hopeful the show will inspire audiences to view those who are incarcerated as people, rather than lifeless serial numbers and charge sheets.

“Most of us don’t think about people in prison. If we do, it’s sort of with the feeling, ‘Well, they probably did something and deserve to be there.’”

She wants people to recognize the lack of redemptive pathways for people upon release, and the need for advocates to protect, defend, and humanize Pennsylvania’s incarcerated population.

“Prison Portrait Project: Faces of Despair, Hope and Transformation,” through Nov. 30, Muse Gallery, 52 N. Second St., Wednesday to Sunday, noon to 5 p.m. musegalleryphiladelphia.com

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

The West Philly rapper whose work has landed on ‘Abbott Elementary.’ Twice.

When Philly artist Amir Bey Richardson first uploaded his rap songs online in 2010, he was told his music was “too corny” to garner an audience.

“I definitely had friends who encouraged me, but I had other friends who used to call it ‘bus driver rap,’” Richardson said. “Or they said, ‘Too many people rap. Get out of here.’”

Today, Richardson is a go-to musician-for-hire for major network shows, including for the Emmy-winning, Philly-set comedy series Abbott Elementary.

Richardson, who goes by Bul Bey, knows his music doesn’t have the same musical edge that has long defined Philadelphia’s hip-hop sound. But he makes up for it with his more soulful and personal hip-hop records that speak to his West Philly roots and connect with a wider range of rap fans.

“Philadelphia is one of those cities where rapping is held to a higher standard, so I had to listen to my heart,” he said. “I was an artist whether I wanted to be one or not.”

While his sound didn’t match that of his contemporaries, he believes it sets him apart from other Philly artists.

On the Oct. 22 episode of Abbott Elementary, Richardson’s 2024 track “Elbow Deep” can be heard in the background as characters Gregory and Janine (played by Tyler James Williams and show creator Quinta Brunson), set the vibe for a friendly hangout.

“I lost my mind when I heard it,” Richardson said. “There are some explicit moments in the song, but when I saw the scene, it all made total sense.”

This was the second time Richardson’s music was placed in the hit series.

Back in February 2022, Richardson sent an “awkward” introductory message on LinkedIn to Abbott Elementary music supervisor Kier Lehman. Among the tens of tracks Richardson pulled from his catalog to include in that message, the 2014 single “Where I’m From” struck a chord with Lehman.

In early 2023, the Grammy-nominated music supervisor reached out to Richardson to request the use of “Where I’m From” for season two, episode 19, of the show.

Richardson said he’s still processing the achievement. “Sometimes I go back to the episode just to make sure it wasn’t changed,” he said.

That song placement, Richardson said, arrived at a “time of desperation.”

After a decade of making music, Richardson was at a creative crossroads. He was confident in his musical talents, but it felt like there were limited avenues to showcase them. “I felt very lost and desperate,” he said.

He stumbled onto Abbott Elementary like everyone else. Only he paused the TV to find Lehman’s name in the credits and reached out to him months later on the networking platform.

While he’s now “embarrassed” by his direct message to Lehman, the eventual song placement was the first time Richardson was ever paid for his music.

“That was definitely me crossing a threshold,” he said. “And in my mind, I was like, ‘I have to do that again.’”

It would be two years until that would happen. Earlier this year, Lehman reached out to Richardson to use “Elbow Deep.” Richardson approved immediately.

In the meantime, that first placement opened several creative doors.

Between his role as an event coordinator for the Free Library of Philadelphia Foundation, Richardson dropped a pair of collaborative EPs with producers Sam Live and Patrick Feliciano. He also contributed music to WHYY programs, such as Albie’s Elevator and The Infinite Art Hunt, and served as host of the Franklin Institute’s So Curious podcast.

He was even tapped to narrate a Skechers ad featuring Sixers star Joel Embiid, showcasing his abilities as a voice-over talent.

It’s all been a surprising path, Richardson said. One that has inspired him to pursue avenues that meld his love of music and Philadelphia.

“It let me know I had a narrower view of what I could do as an artist,” Richardson said. “I wouldn’t say I’m doing unconventional things, but it’s more of a wider range.”

His goal is to be a more notable name for big-budget shows and eventually land a placement on a blockbuster film. He currently has his sights on Sony’s animated Spider-Man multiverse saga, which Lehman served as the music supervisor for in 2018.

For someone who started out making songs from his college radio station at Pittsburgh’s La Roche University, and now sees his name on TV screens, Richardson has learned to avoid limiting his art and musical reach. And to the friends who previously doubted his abilities, he’s proving his music can take him places he’s never been, including prime-time television.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer