The Arts Council of Greater New Haven is all about building “a strong, diverse, and united creative community in Greater New Haven,” and over the past year it initiated a new program to encourage local artists to create projects that directly impact the city of New Haven.
The New Haven Artist Corps, funded by the Mellon Foundation, is focused on the City of New Haven and uplifting stories that are often untold. From 2023 to 2025, two cohorts will work on projects across multiple neighborhoods led by their lead facilitator. In the second cohort of 12 artists, which runs from March 2024 through February 2025, two Southern students were chosen: Jonah Craggett, MFA ’24, and Daniel Ramirez, ’25, also known as “silencio.” Each of the awardees received a $20,000 grant to create projects about New Haven, for New Haven.
Craggett, who graduated from Southern’s MFA in Creative Writing Program in May, writes with the intent to give agency to Black perspectives by acknowledging forgotten histories and decentralizing the white gaze. His project is an audio fantasy/drama entitled The Haus of Black that follows the conflict between two magical groups in the fictional Rainwood, Connecticut, after the police shooting of a 15-year-old Black boy. The Haus of Black, a Black-owned conjure shop, leads the city’s protests demanding justice and ends up going to war with The Children of Salem, an all-white witch’s coven with ties to the police department fighting desperately to keep the status quo.
Ramirez (he/they) is a first-generation Salvadoran-American artist based in New Haven. Through painting, printmaking, and D.I.Y. self-publishing through zines, they explore themes of memories and nostalgia through the lens of play, love, identity and more, both within the past and present day. Their project, El Rincón de Papel (The Paper Corner), is a community zine resource and zine distro aimed at supporting marginalized (QTBIPOC, immigrant, low-income, etc.) creatives and zine makers. Through workshops, collective gatherings, free-of-cost printing and art supplies, individuals will use paper to amplify their collective voice and personal narratives.
Mina Khokar, Artist Corps coordinator for the Arts Council, said, “Through the lens of fantasy and drama, Jonah’s project will center a deep-rooted aspect of New Haven history: police brutality. Haus of Black will take place in a fictional town that is based on New Haven, and there will be an emphasis on education about the intersectionality of class, race, and privilege; all immensely relevant to New Haven’s history and to the community.”
Regarding silencio’s project, Khokar said, “Zines are an integral part of the arts culture in New Haven and Daniel “silencio” created a project that highlights and uplifts those artists and this movement. El Rincón de Papel will provide resources and workshops for seasoned artists and folks still exploring zines.”
Khokar added, “The New Haven Artist Corps grant program, in collaboration with the Mellon Foundation, has a focus on storytelling and New Haven, which both projects exemplify. These projects will invite participants to learn about new perspectives and stories they wouldn’t have interacted with otherwise. We look forward to what Jonah and Daniel create!”
English Professor Tim Parrish, director of the creative writing program, served as Craggett’s thesis advisor, and said, “Jonah is an ideal MFA student. He’s a great community member in that he takes his classmates’ and his own work seriously, is generous with his feedback to fellow MFAs, and he’s a talented, probing writer. He entered the program trying to re-envision, older, African-American, literary narratives, which helped him begin to create his own vision, which then led him to tackle a remarkable memoir. I’m sure he’ll go back to the memoir, but just a few months ago he came up with idea for his, what I call, radio drama, and it’s a visionary and writerly breakthrough.”
Luciana McClure, adjunct professor of arts administration and women’s and gender studies, had Ramirez in class in the fall 2023 semester and said that “he would often be the first to want to engage with the topics of each class and connect to the New Haven arts discourse. Daniel brought his own experience as a native of New Haven who is involved in the arts community and who’s deeply committed to issues around social justice and community building practices while addressing the crucial role the arts play in that discourse. Daniel is very inquisitive and compassionate, and I am very excited to see how his project takes shape.”
In Their Own Words
Following are Q&As with Jonah Craggett and Daniel “silencio” Ramirez
Jonah Craggett
Your project is described as an “audio fantasy/drama, The Haus of Black” – can you explain what an audio fantasy/drama is, and how it will be shared with the community?
An audio fantasy/drama sounds complicated but it’s really just a story presented in its simplest form: as something to be heard. In the spirit of old radio, The Haus of Black is an audio experience, with a narrator, voice actors and sound effects. It differs from an audio book because of how immersive it is. There are actors and sound engineers that help the story come to life, and it’s written with this framework in mind. At its core, The Haus of Black is a story about magical Black people and all the drama that comes with it. It’s a story about family, and about what people will do to protect their families if given the power. Once recording is finished, I’m planning to have listening parties at key spaces around New Haven, Southern included!
How did you get the idea for this project?
Honestly, I came up with the concept after watching an almost-3-hour video essay about The Vampire Diaries (which I’ve never watched) and all I could think was, “What are the Black people doing while all these supernatural shenanigans are going on?” As I watched, I couldn’t stop noticing just how absent Black people were from that world, and the thoughts turned into, “None of this would’ve happened if it was all Black people.” I started imagining the scenes with magical Black people, how they would respond to the events, what the repercussions of their actions would mean within Black bodies. And then the rest kinda just came out.
What has your journey as an artist been like? Have you always known you were a writer?
I’d always been an imaginative kid and entertained the thought of being a writer when I was young but by the time I left high school and entered college, I was gung-ho about being a journalist, not a storyteller. Then I made the mistake that many first-gen students make and listened to too many voices; I changed my major from Communications to English after a professor told me that “journalism was a dying field.” Then Trayvon Martin died, and I had nowhere to put my grief. That was my first nudge into a simple truth: I had stories to tell and no way to tell them.
But things are never that straightforward. I experienced depression for the first time in 2013 and retreated into poetry. Then in 2014 I lost my little brother, Jacob in a drive-by shooting and wrote even more poems. The next year, “Pious Woman,” a poem about my mother’s grief, was published in ECSU’s literary journal. It was my first time ever being published. The next year, another poem about Jacob, “The Chess Game,” was published in the same journal. I had been called!
I left undergrad with an English degree knowing two things: that I wanted to do work that concerned racial justice, and that I didn’t want to be a teacher. So, of course, I spent the next five years teaching English in the NHPS and Charter sphere. I’d done what so many creatives do, settled for the “real job” and daydreamed about making art on the side. Maybe something would fall on my lap one day and I could leave teaching then, but leave my stable job to be a writer? That would be crazy. But I knew I wanted a master’s degree in something, and Southern was right there. So, I applied…
You have said that you write with the intent to give agency to Black perspectives by acknowledging forgotten histories and decentralizing the white gaze. Can you say more about this?
I grew up in New Haven and was lucky enough to have educators that taught us Black history. We even sung Negro spirituals in elementary school music class! But when I left those mostly-Black spaces and entered white academia, there was no focus on the Black past (or present) that I felt was so important. Imagine how shocked I was when I discovered that the lens in which I approached art (and the world) was not only uncommon, but niche! I knew tenured academics who had never read Hurston or Walker. English majors who couldn’t name a single black author. I had to honor all that legacy!
About those forgotten histories: Whenever I see an old black and white picture of Black folks, I wonder about their stories. Who were they? What did they become? Who will sweeten their names? I look at the background of the photo. The children at play, the man with a hat walking down the street. Big Ma on the porch. They’re all important to me. Just by being Black their life could never be boring. My stories ask who they were. Langston Hughes called them “The Low-Down folks.” The butcher who cut meat all day and sang by nightfall. The sharecropper who finally quit to play his guitar. The deacon’s wife and all her love. They all existed, and whiteness wasn’t a focal point in their stories. Neither was racism. They “were” and got to “be.” My stories honor their right to be. And I get flack because of it! Haha!
Daniel Ramirez “silencio”
Your project, El Rincón de Papel (The Paper Corner), is described as “a community zine resource and zine distro aimed at supporting marginalized (QTBIPOC, Immigrant, Low Income, etc) creatives + zine makers.” Can you help us visualize what this will look like? How are you envisioning this project in action?
Yes! For ERP my goal is to highlight stories told by Queer, BIPOC, Immigrant, Disabled, and other marginalized communities that do not have equal access to media outlets and traditional art spaces. To achieve this, I want to promote the zine format, as well as other paper-based mediums such as posters and fliers across the city. Though a simple material we come into contact with every day, paper holds enormous amounts of power. Through this grant I plan to cover material and printing costs for participants eager to create zines and share their experiences, knowledge, dreams, and more. I want to create zine-making kits and drop them off at community centers and local library branches, host co-working sessions and workshops alongside other passionate zinesters/creatives across New Haven and greater Connecticut. In the digital lens, I plan to compile an archive of completed zines + projects, along with resources for zines to be viewed at leisure. Art should be accessible to all that want to indulge in it; removing barriers and hierarchies such as applications, juries, competition for stipends. My vision is to have any New Haven resident unapologetically be themself, and share it with everyone else. I want to pursue a New Haven where its residents hold as much power as the institutions that occupy the city.
How did you get the idea for this project?
The main inspiration for this project is another collective called Brown Recluse Zine Distro. Their practices greatly influenced how I plan to approach ERP; non-hierarchical, not-for-profit, and centered around oppressed peoples. Brown Recluse Zine Distro travels within the country, tabling at zine fairs and other events, stocking zines submitted by independent creators, activists, and educators. They offer partial to full cost of cover price per zine, so creators are compensated for their zines submitted and accepted. Seeing a successful collective operating in such a radical manner for over a decade made me wonder why it doesn’t currently exist in New Haven. I hope to bring it to light within the community, but also want to consciously operate it in tandem with the greater community as a collaborative project. The idea of artists getting compensated for their work is something that unfortunately is not as common in the art world, as many identities are tokenized or used for public image without proper compensation. When imagining how this would take shape in New Haven, I also had to take into consideration the most vital aspect: the participants. This is where accessibility comes into place, hence the emphasis on subsidized materials and printing, workshops, and organized space to work within community support.
How did you get interested in zines, and what do you think the role of zines is in amplifying the voices of marginalized folks?
I actually wrote about this in a recent perzine (personal zine) of mine! During lockdown, I noticed a few mutuals from across the state followed an Instagram page called connectic_nt, they were a small group of individuals that started their own zine publication centering CT creatives. Zoe and Mar from Connecticunt were the ones who introduced me to zines and have wholeheartedly supported me as friends and community members, through my submissions to their issues, inviting me to be a part of an exhibition at Koffee?, and much much more. It would be a disservice if I didn’t shout them out.
As for the role of zines, they have an important role in decentralizing the distribution of media and education. Used within the Harlem Renaissance, Femme Punk Explosion, and Anti-War Protests, self-published zines, pamphlets, and posters have platformed voices of those who are actively oppressed. Current topics such as gender theory, sex education and liberation, critical race theory, and anti-military involvement (Palestinian Genocide) that have suppressed both within academic institutions and social media have led to a rise in zines distributing updates, vital information, and solidarity. Zines and independent publishing are created explicitly for the consumption of these demographics, with no filter or counter-narrative. These small pieces of paper have the power to bring together groups that then organize, create programming, and fund programs directly impacting those in need.
Can you tell us about your name “silencio,” what it means, and how it relates to your art?
It was summer of 2019, I was grabbing lunch with an old high school friend in downtown New Haven. We decided to pop into the Apple store on Broadway to get some AC, and I started messing around with Procreate on one of the display iPads; it was during the time I was still figuring out if I wanted to pursue digital or physical art. I got fed up with all the noise in the store so I wrote “silencio” (silence in spanish) out onto the screen hahaha. I kept repeating the word in my head throughout the following week, and realized that I loved how it sounded. At the time I was more reserved, uncertain in my place as an artist, and wanted others to care more about what I create than the person who created it. The name “silencio” became synonymous with my online presence, using it for most social media handles and even gamertags for online games, and those around me in real life started to use it as much as they did my birth name. Now, I try to break that meaning of silence, because I deserve to be loud. I have lots to say, lots of stories to be told and those waiting to be created. I think that is starting to be translated within the images I create… hopefully orz.
What has your journey as an artist been like so far?
At first, I was very hesitant to call myself an artist. In my journal, I wrote an entry in 2022 when having a discussion about the topic with a friend. Feeling that I was late in realizing the path I wanted to take, made me feel that I didn’t have the right to believe I was an artist, that I couldn’t label myself as one since I was still in school. However, finding a supportive artist community changed that. Ruby Gonzalez Hernandez, a local artist in New Haven and my senior from high school, was one of the first people to put their belief in me, and was the one who handed me my first sketchbook. The Folk Festival hosted by artists Jisu Sheen and Kulimushi Barongozi of the Second Floor Hardware School, is to this day one of the best examples of a community-based art event within the city, one that morphs based on the needs of the participants, and openly accepts it. Seeing others confidently be themselves was freeing, and led to the rejection of the current direction of traditional arts institutions and galleries. While one of my goals is to see more Central-American representation in these spaces, I think it’s equally imperative to see that within our own communities. As mentioned above, I am no longer afraid to break the meaning of silencio. now say whatever I want to say.
Most of the images in my current artwork are derived from daily mundane moments, reflections on past experiences, and abstraction of the places I’ve been. In a similar way, this is how I have been approaching my relationship with the arts community within New Haven: taking a step back to see small moments, cherishing and collaging the influential changes to create a future image of New Haven that steers my studio practice and community involvement.
What has your experience with the art program at Southern been like?
Studying studio art at SCSU has definitely been a change from Gateway Community College, where I did my associate’s degree. The faculty have been amazing in pushing me to experiment; I have actually asked my professors to challenge me, as I plan to pursue an MFA in the future and want to start thinking about what a successful portfolio looks like. Professor Karen Dow has been one of my biggest supporters on campus, even as an adjunct professor. She is always willing to take the time to go over my ideas and suggest new directions to take. While taking her ART 261 class in silkscreening, I have felt the most liberated and innovative within the print lab; she will definitely be seeing me in her class again haha. Many of my classmates are dedicated to their work, spending many evenings in Earl Hall for open studio hours. Whether in critique or passing by a neighbor’s easel to refill on liquin medium, I always leave class with inspiration and gratitude to be in the same space as my classmates. Earl Hall and the arts/music departments deserve some attention; student groups such as SAL advocate for renovations and building support that are vital to maintaining and nurturing future artists within the Southern community. As the only public 4-year institution within the city of New Haven, I hope the administration at SCSU takes the time to appreciate the great work coming out of the art programs and make plans to support them to the fullest extent.
