For the Culture. For the Church Kids.
Words:Cassie Johnson/photos:Risha Chesterfield
Sit with any soul for 45 minutes, and you’ll hear what built that person. Sit with J. Grin Artistry for 45 minutes, and you’ll hear how she builds people.
J. Grin’s spoken art is how she’ll push you to step out of your comfort zone. Honest and punchy lyrics, tied with head-bobbing tracks, will cut you to the heart and make you want to two-step. From day one, she set her heart on being a trailblazer in sound - both her grandfather and uncle had gospel labels, one dedicated to choirs and quartets, and the other leaning toward 90’s R&B. The opinion of her grandfather, Dr. Levi King, means the most to her, partially because of his influence and partially because “he knows [her] so well that he’ll know if [she’s] holding back or not.”
You can say these things helped build her, but they were simply a launch pad into what she’s done so far.
Beginning with poetry at an early age, J. Grin’s creativity has morphed into hip-hop. In 2016 she released the Homegrown EP, full of spoken word and pure vibe, and her latest single, “I’m Coming Home,” bears 90’s nostalgia, showing her musical evolution in just two years. Born “JaNishia Grinston,” J. Grin Artistry constantly pays dues to her musical family and community that gave her the platform she nows stands on and creates from.
My dad, when he did music, he went by J. Grin, and my parents’ license plates say “JGrin1” and “JGrin2.” So it was always a thing. I told my dad when I was about 15 that if I grow up to do music (which was never my plan), I wanna do it under [his] name. He genuinely gave his career up to work more because he kept having kids. He couldn’t just continue the indie music route. He was pretty good - wrote some good songs, and he was more like Kirk Franklin, leading choirs and stuff. I told him because of his sacrifice I would work under his name. I went by “J. Grin” for a long time but I just added “Artistry” in 2016 because I started to branch out and do different stuff. It wasn’t just poems anymore, it wasn’t just music. I just didn’t want to be put in a box by my name.
From ages 4 to 18, J. Grin traveled with a recording choir, but eventually (and accidentally) found her own voice through spoken word. Most of the people around her were top-notch musicians. “Nobody did anything mediocre.” Like any person, she was desperate to stand out in her family, and around age 10 caught herself writing a song on notebook paper in blue ink. She took it to her uncle after choir rehearsal, thinking she’d written their next hit. But when he asked her what the melody was, she was stumped. She simply wanted to express herself.
I was always writing poems that were honestly really terrible, now that I look back on them. But when I turned about 19, I was like, “I wonder what it would be like to read these poems on a stage and memorize them and kind of act them out.” I didn’t even know that had a name. When I found out it did have a name, I was like, “Oh yeah I do spoken word now!” I didn’t start doing music until literally it was time to record the [Homegrown] EP, and some of [producer Jeremy Chinn’s] tracks were so good, I realized I had to rhythmically do the poem over them, not realizing…oh that’s rap!
The first piece she wrote that she realized wasn’t just a poem came after an experience with God at a conference in 2010. She took the piece, titled “True Story,” to Tennessee State University, Fisk University, and other colleges, and began realizing that others were impacted by her story. She felt more and more free every time she performed it. In it, she opens up about things she’d been through and everything that held her back before the conference.
That was the piece that transitioned me from just a notebook into spoken word. At that point I knew I had something there that was a ministry gift as opposed to just a hobby.
J. Grin’s pieces - as vibe-y as they can be - intentionally cause a stir. She speaks truth, her truth at the minimum, bringing all that she is in an energetic light. You’ll hear about injustices, the Gospel, current events, and her own testimony all in one show:
Of course I’ve gotten the pushback of “You go too far; you say too much; you should reel that in” - to which I never listen - but what’s encouraging is one story of a show that was not at a church. We stopped the set and shared the Gospel, and the drummer who was in a band that played right before us, he was a devout atheist. He told a mutual friend of ours, “What she had to say was very, very powerful.” I could tell that it stuck with him - he didn’t give his life to Christ that night, but he’s known for not only being atheist but also for trying to disciple people into atheism. Those were seeds planted for him. When I hear those stories, I know that I have to bring all of me to the stage… I know that I have to bring it all. From the feedback I’ve gotten, I’ve heard, “You’re saying what we can’t say, you’re putting it into words. We need you to keep going.”
To J. Grin, there’s always time for the Gospel. There’s always room for God to move through her. Some of her experiences - growing up in church, coming from East St. Louis, attending a Historically Black College and University (HBCU), being a millennial - give her the opportunity to build bridges with many people. She crosses those bridges without shame, praying that others would listen and feel less alone in this world.
In a live show, she plays with Luke Saison (music director, bassist, and drummer), and Scot Wilson (guitarist) - two guys who look nothing like her. Luke is half-Filipino and Scot is white, and their live show champions diversity, excellence, and a good time. When asked who she would want to collaborate with, they were the first names out of her mouth, accompanied by a laugh. They even made the list above Jackie Hill Perry, an orchestra (“I wanna push the limits completely”), and Chance the Rapper (whose song “Summer Friends” was a huge influence on the “Homegrown” single). The friendship between them has made them like a family, and J. Grin’s loyalty to blood family easily spills over to chosen family.
Two words that come to her mind when she dwells on her music is “freedom and safety - I feel like when I can accomplish that in a song, I can pass that same feeling on to somebody else.” She defines art as exhaling to allow room for inhaling, but what happens in the process is that a certain light radiates from her. She knows it. This generation of creatives, especially those who are believers, shouldn’t shy away from telling their stories and doing their work.
No one [else] can tell your story. Nobody has your perspective. Out of all the music and all the people in the world, nobody can do it like you…That’s one thing that keeps me encouraged when I’m discouraged. To young creatives, especially believers - you are obligated to be a light in this world… To sit on such a gift at the end of the day is honestly selfish. I’m grateful for “MAKE” and any other community that’s making creatives feel less alone and more supported. Do what you know you’re put here to do even as an “adult." Like, go to work, keep the lights on, but go home and write that song. Go home and edit that video or those pictures. Take those network meetings between off days. Continue to build what you’re put here to do. There’s no one who’s gonna do it like you.
