<table style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 0px; WIDTH: 461px" minmax_bound="true" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody minmax_bound="true"><tr minmax_bound="true"><td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 4px" minmax_bound="true">Ten years after his death, Tupac is remembered as a poet, a thug, an icon and a dreamer. He was all of those.
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Sept. 12, 2006, 5:30PM
Tupac Shakur remembered ten years after his death
By ANDREW GUY JR.
Copyright 2006 Houston Chronicle
<!-- commented out ad <iframe width="1" height="1" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder=0 scrolling=no></iframe> <script></script>
-->Tupac Amaru Shakur has been called a poet and a thug. He was neither and both of those things, an artist who struggled to find his voice and tenuous place in the world. Most rappers who rhyme about guns and sex don't turn around and spin beautiful pieces celebrating the importance of mothers as Tupac did.
Tupac was shot in Las Vegas on Sept. 7, 1996; he died 10 years ago today.
His death at 25 guaranteed a life for his legend that shows no sign of burning out.
"There might have been better rappers, but no rapper has had the influence on the game that Tupac has had," said J-Mac of the Madd Hatta Morning Show. The KBXX music director compared the rapper to Elvis or Kurt Cobain.
Ten years later, we continue to dissect Tupac's music. We debate his legacy. We wonder what kind of music he would have produced had his life not been cut short. His murder, still unsolved, continues to prompt questions: Who shot him? Why? Did rap culture contribute to his death? A few conspirasts still float the theory that Tupac is still alive.
He is, in a sense. Five posthumous CDs have been released. Statues in Las Vegas and Atlanta bear his likeness. A creative arts center bears his name. His iconic moniker comes up during most discussions about hip-hop, from impromptu street conversations to heated debates on the radio.
"Just as he accomplished so much in his 25 years, we who are left here have to work hard and stay focused to continue with his legacy and what he wanted," said Celina Nixon, artistic director at the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in suburban Atlanta. "He wasn't rapping, he was speaking. He was giving speeches about human nature."
Such grandiose comments are common. We've romanticized him, elevated him to martyr while we talk about his "poetry."
At the arts center in Atlanta, Nixon said the goal is to teach people about the "real" Tupac Shakur. He was not, she said, a violent thug.
He was a complex artist.
That's the message she tries to instill in the 12- to 18-year-olds who attend sessions at the center. These sessions are held once every season, and applications are taken for 45 slots. The students form a creative troupe that performs at various Atlanta-area events. The students read poetry, act in skits, sing and dance.
At the center, there's a statue of Tupac in the garden and his pictures are on the walls, Nixon said. And the rapper's poems often are used by the youngsters as discussion points when brainstorming for upcoming performances.
"A lot of our students come in only knowing the Tupac the media has put out there," Nixon said. "So we expose them to the other side: that Tupac started at the Baltimore school of the arts; had he not learned about (William) Shakespeare, had he not known about classical music and other topics that may not be considered 'cool,' he may not have been the artist that he turned out to be. That's what we teach."
Nixon said the programming is balanced and honest. Tupac the sinner isn't glossed over for Tupac the saint. That's why the center targets teenagers: They're at an age where they can handle mature topics.
"You can't get around that," Nixon said. "The media is going to say and do what brings attention to (that part of) the story. ... But they do tend to leave out the positive aspects of Tupac and other rap artists. This was Tupac's vision to have a center like this."
The center has hosted visitors from all over the world. The next goal, Nixon said, is to add classroom space and a minitheater for screening films.
It provides a more grounded counterpart to the mystique of Tupac's death, which has inspired movies, conspiracy theories, investigations, documentaries and Web sites. They have, so far, proved nothing, other than a key suspect, who also is now dead.
The anniversary of Tupac's death falls between the release of two unrelated movies: Hollywoodland and The Black Dahlia. Both, at their core, concern deaths that were surrounded by as many questions as answers.
We don't know who pulled the trigger as Tupac sat in a car on the busy Las Vegas Strip on Friday, Sept. 7, 1996. His art may never escape the shadow of the mystery.
andrew.guy@chron.com
Chronicle reporter Lana Berkowitz contributed to this story
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Associated Press
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Sept. 12, 2006, 5:30PM
Tupac Shakur remembered ten years after his death
By ANDREW GUY JR.
Copyright 2006 Houston Chronicle
<!-- commented out ad <iframe width="1" height="1" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder=0 scrolling=no></iframe> <script></script>
-->Tupac Amaru Shakur has been called a poet and a thug. He was neither and both of those things, an artist who struggled to find his voice and tenuous place in the world. Most rappers who rhyme about guns and sex don't turn around and spin beautiful pieces celebrating the importance of mothers as Tupac did.
Tupac was shot in Las Vegas on Sept. 7, 1996; he died 10 years ago today.
His death at 25 guaranteed a life for his legend that shows no sign of burning out.
"There might have been better rappers, but no rapper has had the influence on the game that Tupac has had," said J-Mac of the Madd Hatta Morning Show. The KBXX music director compared the rapper to Elvis or Kurt Cobain.
Ten years later, we continue to dissect Tupac's music. We debate his legacy. We wonder what kind of music he would have produced had his life not been cut short. His murder, still unsolved, continues to prompt questions: Who shot him? Why? Did rap culture contribute to his death? A few conspirasts still float the theory that Tupac is still alive.
He is, in a sense. Five posthumous CDs have been released. Statues in Las Vegas and Atlanta bear his likeness. A creative arts center bears his name. His iconic moniker comes up during most discussions about hip-hop, from impromptu street conversations to heated debates on the radio.
"Just as he accomplished so much in his 25 years, we who are left here have to work hard and stay focused to continue with his legacy and what he wanted," said Celina Nixon, artistic director at the Tupac Amaru Shakur Center for the Arts in suburban Atlanta. "He wasn't rapping, he was speaking. He was giving speeches about human nature."
Such grandiose comments are common. We've romanticized him, elevated him to martyr while we talk about his "poetry."
At the arts center in Atlanta, Nixon said the goal is to teach people about the "real" Tupac Shakur. He was not, she said, a violent thug.
He was a complex artist.
That's the message she tries to instill in the 12- to 18-year-olds who attend sessions at the center. These sessions are held once every season, and applications are taken for 45 slots. The students form a creative troupe that performs at various Atlanta-area events. The students read poetry, act in skits, sing and dance.
At the center, there's a statue of Tupac in the garden and his pictures are on the walls, Nixon said. And the rapper's poems often are used by the youngsters as discussion points when brainstorming for upcoming performances.
"A lot of our students come in only knowing the Tupac the media has put out there," Nixon said. "So we expose them to the other side: that Tupac started at the Baltimore school of the arts; had he not learned about (William) Shakespeare, had he not known about classical music and other topics that may not be considered 'cool,' he may not have been the artist that he turned out to be. That's what we teach."
Nixon said the programming is balanced and honest. Tupac the sinner isn't glossed over for Tupac the saint. That's why the center targets teenagers: They're at an age where they can handle mature topics.
"You can't get around that," Nixon said. "The media is going to say and do what brings attention to (that part of) the story. ... But they do tend to leave out the positive aspects of Tupac and other rap artists. This was Tupac's vision to have a center like this."
The center has hosted visitors from all over the world. The next goal, Nixon said, is to add classroom space and a minitheater for screening films.
It provides a more grounded counterpart to the mystique of Tupac's death, which has inspired movies, conspiracy theories, investigations, documentaries and Web sites. They have, so far, proved nothing, other than a key suspect, who also is now dead.
The anniversary of Tupac's death falls between the release of two unrelated movies: Hollywoodland and The Black Dahlia. Both, at their core, concern deaths that were surrounded by as many questions as answers.
We don't know who pulled the trigger as Tupac sat in a car on the busy Las Vegas Strip on Friday, Sept. 7, 1996. His art may never escape the shadow of the mystery.
andrew.guy@chron.com
Chronicle reporter Lana Berkowitz contributed to this story
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