Wright, who is also a singer, dancer, filmmaker and manager for the Chiller Gang collective, says the title of Dark Magician isn’t necessarily about what he does, but more about what he’s experienced in life.
“I’ve gone through a lot of darkness,” says Wright. “But I’ve learned how to transmute it into light.”
The heroic title is a curious fit for an elementary school dance instructor who enjoys pickup soccer games and volunteers with the community group, Urban Peace Movement. Wright, who is also a singer, dancer, filmmaker and manager for the Chiller Gang collective, says the title of Dark Magician isn’t necessarily about what he does, but more about what he’s experienced in life.
“I’ve gone through a lot of darkness,” says Wright. “But I’ve learned how to transmute it into light.”
Wearing a camouflage jacket, grey hoodie and baseball hat embroidered with his group’s logo, he sits on the lip of a huge stone plant pot in downtown Oakland as he says,“I literally feel like Dr. Strange.”
“We bring all of these things together,” he says, “so we can heal ourselves, our families and communities.”
He explains that his work is all about bringing together the energy that pours into him through family and community, and holding tight to the healthy and healing aspects while discarding what doesn’t serve him.
Raised in Oakland, between his mother and grandmother’s home, Wright says it was nonprofit organizations, sports teams, and his hip-hop collective that really allowed him to step into himself.
“We bring all of these things together,” he says, “so we can heal ourselves, our families and communities.”
This process of pruning to rid himself of bad habits and refining himself for the benefit of the larger community is something he started intentionally working on nearly a decade ago.
“In 2017,” says Wright, “I met, rest his soul, Dr. Prince White.”
An only child who grew up without his father, Wright latched on to the male role models in the group. “Nobody actually taught me about masculinity as a kid growing up,” says Wright. “So, just to be in the Black Men’s DetermiNation Group changed my entire life.”
Wright recalls how welcoming and focused the late Dr. White was upon first meeting him. “He was like, ‘Yo, we have this group, The Black Men’s DetermiNation Group, we’d love for you to come through,’” Wright says, imitating Dr. White and noting that the group offered a stipend, food and mental health resources. “So I was just like, ‘Alright, I definitely need that,’” says Wright. “I need all of that.”
He was introduced to other artists he’d grow to work with, and young men who’d eventually become good friends.
An only child who grew up without his father, Wright latched on to the male role models in the group. “Nobody actually taught me about masculinity as a kid growing up,” says Wright. “So, just to be in the Black Men’s DetermiNation Group changed my entire life.”
Wright became involved in different campaigns and participated in youth summits. He gained understanding of the root causes of issues like gentrification and mass incarceration. He was also a part of Urban Peace Movement’s L.I.T (leaders in training) program, a group that would go to different schools to disseminate information about current events and issues in Oakland.
A key campaign that impacted a young Erik Wright was the work done in support of DaJon Ford, a former star high school football player who’d gotten into some serious legal trouble.
Charged with multiple cases of armed robbery in 2013, Ford sat in Santa Rita jail for four years awaiting a trial in which he was set to be prosecuted as an adult, despite being 17 at the time of his offense.
In 2016 California voters passed Prop. 57, a ballot initiative also referred to as the Public Safety and Rehabilitation Act of 2016, it pushed the State to focus on reducing the population of its prison system by honing in on rehabilitation, realignment and reconsidering the way minors are sentenced. Aware of the legislation, Dr. Prince White and Urban Peace Movement challenged the idea of a minor being convicted as an adult. They developed a campaign in order to spread the word about the case; the group even created a song and music video in effort to shed light on Ford’s story and get more people engaged.
They also pounded the pavement, passing out flyers and getting people to sign a petition. “We got so many signatures,” Wright reflects. So many people wanted to support and help, especially after hearing DaJon Ford’s. ”That right there,” says Wright, “showed me the power of us coming together.”
In September of 2017 Ford, who at one point was facing up to 14 years in prison, was released.
“We’re showing people that it’s okay to transform, it’s okay to change,” he says, revealing his source of inspiration. “Because that’s what the universe is constantly doing; it’s changing and growing.”
Wright still works with Urban Peace Movement and participates in the Black Men’s DetermiNation group, which is currently combating the use of military grade pepper spray on incarcerated youth inside of juvenile hall.
As an artist, political points bleed through his music, but the overall vibe of the work he does with the Chiller Gang is in a word, chill. References to Backwoods cigars being rolled flow over laidback beats as he and the four other Chiller Gang members rap about life in the East Bay.
Wright’s latest production, a film and album titled Zeke and Andre, is a collaboration with Chiller Gang’s Ricky D. The multimedia project is rife with references to movies, politics and cultures, but at the center of it all is “a very, very positive message,” says Wright.
“We’re showing people that it’s okay to transform, it’s okay to change,” he says, revealing his source of inspiration. “Because that’s what the universe is constantly doing; it’s changing and growing.”
Wright has gone through multiple stages of change as an artist.
He got his start in music at the age of 20 after a friend invited him to sing on the chorus of a song. And then the creative bug bit him.
“It was my first time ever writing lyrics,” says Wright. He quickly fell in love with the process of going to a small studio at a friend’s house in Central Richmond, singing and adding the textures to the music.
He then began doing talent shows and working with other music groups. After joining Chiller Gang in 2017, he would also dance on stage–a hype man of sorts.
He eventually realized his group needed someone to book shows, so he also took on the role of manager. Soon after, he noticed that the group needed more footage for promotional purposes, so he started producing vlogs for the collective.
After taking a breath and returning to his normally calm tone, he explains, “I’ve actually seen the other side.” He continues, “And it’s given me the confidence to manifest anything into my reality that I desire.”
Shooting videos for his squad alleviated the need for a middleman in their production cycle. Additionally, Wright began shooting videos of other artists.
“I just go to support other people,” he says, noting that some video gigs are paid and some are free. “Because I’m in such a huge community of artists,” Wright says, “I love just shooting and seeing other people win.”
His growth as an artist has not only benefited him, but the community as a whole.
That kind-hearted idea of people basking in each other’s light is an understanding about the universe that came to him during a near-death experience.
When asked about the role spirituality plays in his work, he lets out loud, “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!” And says, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
After taking a breath and returning to his normally calm tone, he explains, “I’ve actually seen the other side.” He continues, “And it’s given me the confidence to manifest anything into my reality that I desire.”
He elaborates, noting that at the time of the incident he was facing homelessness, unemployment, and family issues. “Stress will kill you,” Wright says.
While hanging out with some friends, he passed out unexpectedly. According to his friend, Wright was unconscious for five minutes. He says he experienced life without vibration, complete darkness. In describing what he saw next, he references The Big Bang and how the theoretical explosion illuminated the sky.
“It was probably the most beautiful experience I’ve ever had, to this day,” Wright attests.
The experience left him with the notion that thoughts are light. “Every star,” he says, “is a consciousness.”
As the thought-filled stars illuminated the universe in his head, he was overcome with feelings of love–the most love he’s ever felt.
“I was like, whoa, I’m hearing all of these screams,” says Wright, noting that his friend was panicking and trying to awaken him. “But I’m also feeling all of this love,” he says in a whisper.
And with a boom, Wright was right back.
The bad can be converted to good, Wright says. And as a Dark Magician, that just gives him more material to work with. Given his experience on “the other side,” no matter what life throws at him, he feels confident he can make due.
“Because,” he says, “I know that I have literally an infinite amount of angels and ancestors that are walking behind me and in my blood, making it all happen.”
After his friend’s screaming returned him to consciousness, he reflected on his experience with a newfound understanding of how the cosmos work.
It taught him that we’re not alone and that we have the ability to create our reality with the universe. And the third lesson, he says: “Everything is love, even the bad stuff.”
The bad can be converted to good, Wright says. And as a Dark Magician, that just gives him more material to work with. Given his experience on “the other side,” no matter what life throws at him, he feels confident he can make due.
“Because,” he says, “I know that I have literally an infinite amount of angels and ancestors that are walking behind me and in my blood, making it all happen.”
