Also found in the exhibit was a section containing poetry by Grammy-nominated Nikki Giovanni (who you may have heard of in Kanye West or Nas tracks), three short films by Jefferson Pinder, and what was labeled as an “mixed media installation” by Shinique Smith that surprisingly gave off more of a street feel than the graffiti pieces that stood just outside of the room. An image of Tupac, drips of black paint down the white walls, vibrant colors, and obscure items such as a pair of shoes on the floor made the installation stand out; almost so much so that you may have missed Giovanni’s work that adorned the walls just mere feet away.

The overall sanitized and refined feel of the exhibit was a tremendous disappointment that didn’t make much sense. Perhaps the Smithsonian wasn’t quite ready for hip hop yet. And at the same time, maybe Hip Hop isn’t ready for the Smithsonian yet either. As Ernie Paniccioli pointed out, “an underlying aspect of all of the elements of Hip Hop is that on one level or another they fuck with you. Fuck with your comfort zone, fuck with your smugness, fuck with your feeling of safety, fuck with your idea of art, music, beauty, race, history; even with your sense of time and timing. If it does not fuck with you, it is not Hip Hop. Period.” Should you feel the desire to visit the exhibit to see for yourself though, entrance to the museum is free and the hours are 11:30 a.m. to 7 p.m., seven days a week. The National Portrait Gallery is also conveniently accessible by Metro at the Gallery Place/Chinatown stop.