*The following is an extended version of the conversation that appeared in the August 2026 print issue of Indianapolis Monthly.
THIS YEAR, CHREECE hip-hop festival takes over Fountain Square on August 29, while Butter Fine Art Fair, a project of local arts organization GangGang, returns to the Stutz September 3–6. Rapper Sean Smith, aka Oreo Jones, who founded Chreece in 2015, has been a fixture in the Indianapolis music scene for almost 15 years, releasing three full-length albums, two collaborative albums, and two EPs and acting as radio station manager for 99.1 WQRT FM. Smith is a frequent collaborator of GangGang cofounders and wife-and-husband team Mali and Alan Bacon, who are behind not only Butter but also Indy’s Black Lives Matter street mural, Black: A Festival of Joy, the I Made Rock ’n’ Roll music festival, the We. The Culture. exhibit at the Indianapolis Museum of Art, and music and art activations around the city during NCAA, WNBA, and NBA events. By empowering creators, promoting equity, and building Indy’s’ creative infrastructure, especially for underrepresented Black artists, musicians, and entrepreneurs, Smith and the Bacons are making sure there is a right place for everyone.
SEAN: I think we should start with gratitude. What’s filling your tank these days? What are you happy about? What are you thankful for?
ALAN: I’m thankful that we could sit down and have this conversation, you know, talking about our sector, ourselves, the journey. It’s pretty cool just to sit with the homies and to speak gratitude. For us to have this moment to talk about what’s been and what’s to come. I’m happy it’s Friday, too.
MALI: I am grateful for perspective. That’s been a big one. Closing quarter 1 and heading into quarter 2 has been distinct in that I’m realizing it’s been almost six years of GangGang. I’m just sitting in that, like, whoa! I’m really thankful to be able to review and reflect and to have survived.
SEAN: I think that’s such a good point. I know how corny it can be sometimes when people are like, “It’s about the journey,” but it’s so true. Everyone thinks that things happen just like a lightning bolt. In some cases, yeah, but I feel like the journey is so important. And I’m grateful for that. And to be in spaces with you two. Speaking of journey, how did you start your journey? Did you start out of urgency? Out of passion, fear, anger? What was the motivation for GangGang?
ALAN: Mali’s been doing this type of work for years. You’re talking about two decades of somebody who’s been curating and putting cats on, making sure that opportunities are there for people in our universe. Our people, our artists, our friends. I mean, 2020—six years ago—was a time for everyone to sit down because it forced you to. [It was the height of Covid, and the George Floyd murder had happened, so the Black Lives Matter movement was also at its peak.] It was a very interesting time in the world where everything was separate. So I think for us, it was like, what could we do in this moment? If the world seems like this, what are some solutions or a way forward? GangGang [came out of that moment]. I remember the day Mali got this [mental] download, and I remember her saying, “What do you think about a cultural startup?” And that was it. Then we just started riffing. It was like a freestyle between Biggie and Pac.
MALI: 2020 felt so dense, and so inescapable, and so dire. It was an emergency. It was a crisis. People were getting killed in the streets [during Black Lives Matter protests]. The pressure to find a viable solution for survival, for community, for cities to keep going was very real. There were civic stakeholders and political and art stakeholders asking, “What should we do? Mali, you’ve been talking about arts being an answer for something, or DEI. What is it? Can it work now?” I just remember such urgency in that moment and being 150-percent confident in the idea that we had just been given. I knew that it would change everything. I knew that it would change my life. I stayed up all night because it was inappropriate to call [former president and CEO of the Central Indiana Community Foundation] Brian Payne in the middle of the night.
ALAN: She was like, “Let’s make this small call.” And I was like, “Man, it’s 12 in the morning!”
MALI: He said, “If you still feel this strongly at 7 a.m., then you can call him.” And I did.
So to answer your question about what it was birthed in: The context was, “Figure it out right now.” And statements weren’t going to be enough. Black squares or whatever on social media weren’t going to be enough. Writing people’s DEI protocols, things that I had been begging institutions to do for a decade—suddenly, that wasn’t even enough. We knew inherently it is the artists. They are the ones who save us in a time of crisis because they’re the ones who always have. When there’s nothing else, if there’s only rubbish and rubble, it’s the artists who restart civilizations. So we knew we had to protect them. We knew that we could start there.
SEAN: Was there a lot of pressure as far as being a torch bearer for that message and that feeling of like, “Hey, I’m about to pick this up. I got this baton right here, and I’m about to take us to a place we’ve never been before”? I don’t mean to be so dramatic, but I feel like whenever you do something public facing, there’s always some kind of pressure.
MALI: Us pioneering a thing and leading, that didn’t really feel like pressure. I felt like a vessel. I felt like in a vortex where like something came, and it filled us up, and it told us exactly what to do, and we just ran.
ALAN: I remember being just excited to finally do something that comes from us. It felt like a FUBU moment. It was like, “OK, this is something that our culture probably is going to really benefit from, and the world in general.” How was that moment for you? Because we then kind of collided right after that. That’s when 81355 kicked off. We did that listening party at Kan-Kan. What was going through your mental right there?
SEAN: I feel like there was so much weight in that year. For the 81355 record, a lot of those themes were mirroring society. But one thing I’ve never told you guys is that, Chreece, we took a couple years off because of the pandemic, and when we came back in 2023, a good spark was because of y’all. I remember being inspired by Butter and everything you were doing. I was like, We need to keep these things going for people to feel hope and pride and share these stories. To keep people looking to the future in a positive way. I remember I called y’all, and you were busy as hell. Initially, I just wanted to see what you guys thought about it. There was a point when I didn’t think I was ever going to do Chreece again.
ALAN: Right on, man. I remember those conversations, too. We were hitting back when we were doing the listening sessions with 81355. I think it was cool that we were able to come together in that moment. You mention Chreece, and then we did the 2024 NBA All-Star Weekend, putting it all together and doing something really, really cool and groovy for the city with [The Suite: A Sports x Culture Lounge and Nap City: The Basement].
MALI: Sean, thank you for doing all this cultural work for so long. You’ve been at it for a long time. When people think of art and culture in Indianapolis, they think of you. You calling to ask what we thought about Chreece coming back was humbling. It was an honor for GangGang for you to ask because that’s what we made GangGang for. We knew how awful a city would be without things like Chreece. We knew how much work it takes, and we knew the thing that we needed to preach was that Indianapolis needs infrastructure for experiences like Chreece to survive. I always give credit to you, and to Jim Walker and Shauta Marsh, and to Polina Osherov, and Doug Morris, and Mindy Taylor Ross, and Shannon Linker, people who have been at this for a long time in the Indianapolis art scene.
SEAN: So, after 2020, GangGang is going crazy: You have partnerships with the NBA, the Pacers, LA Contemporary Museum of Art. You’re featured in Forbes, The New York Times, the LA Times. What’s so appealing to folks outside of Indianapolis? And is that important to you?
MALI: I don’t know that it’s as important as it is affirming. It’s just good to be like, OK, you should keep going, you know? But there’s not enough narratives about culture or artists out of Indiana or Indianapolis. People still seem surprised to find, like, “What, there’s even a large Black population?” I’ve been asked, “Do you guys have art fairs? Do you have museums?” People are surprised to hear about a scene or the industry being activated in Central Indiana. It’s an opportunity for us to talk about the talent that is maybe overlooked here and how we are a creative city. We get to amplify incredible, incredible, world-class artists.
ALAN: It’s really about what’s hot here. It has maybe less to do with GangGang and more to do with what is actually going on and what people are now discovering. Which is crazy that they’re just discovering it. How did we miss the continuation of the story from the ’40s, ’50s, ’60s, Indiana Avenue? Why is there such a big gap that nobody knows Michael Jackson is from Indiana?
MALI: Or that songwriters from Indiana made the most popular music for decades?
ALAN: It’s unfortunate that it has been somewhat erased or overlooked, but that’s the cool part of doing this work: It’s not really too much work. You’re just shining a little flashlight on the city, and the artists are doing all the work. We really went into this with a Robin Hood mentality where it’s like we just wanted to take from and give back. And it worked in such a big way. There are a lot of people doing a lot of things now. There are a lot of creatives coming out with shows, and solo exhibitions, and concerts, and that’s the coolest part, being able to sit back, and see that, and have a small hand in it. And things continue to grow, as well.
MALI: What do you guys think about the creative class here? How would you describe the city’s talent and their challenges? I have a theory that there’s something in common between arts leaders that help sustain artists over time.
ALAN: What’s the theory?
MALI: The theory is that you have to think of the artists here as you’re working for them. We know the talent here, so we basically dedicate our time to lifting up the city, because we know there’s nothing better.
SEAN: I think the artists here are working-class artists. A lot of the artists and musicians that I interact with are working multiple jobs, as opposed to in other markets or cities where people are doing it full-time because there is easier access. That’s something that I would love to see dissipate, to where we can be a city where artists can just be ourselves. I made the transition when I started working for Big Car—and I still do; Jim and Shauta, shout out to them—running Listen Hear and the Big Car radio station. Being able to make a living creating: absolute dream. My 16-year-old self would be like, “You are so sick.” I was on food stamps at one point just trying to figure it out, to be transparent. I was just trying to make shit shake. And I think that’s something that doesn’t really get talked about, the absolute hustle of trying to figure out how I’m gonna keep going. I feel like I’ve always had to hustle. I’ve had a job since I was like 13. It was really hard for people to take me seriously. The first Chreece, I had like 200 bucks in my checking account, and I was like, “All right, I don’t even know what a festival is, but I’m going to figure it out.” One of the venues was a Pizza King. But I think that was the beauty of the scene too. Living in Fountain Square, rent was super cheap. Our block was just full of bands. It was a whole other world, and I think that’s kind of where it sparked, where I was like, Yo, there isn’t space for hip-hop here, for local musicians. Art is so powerful, enough to where you’re like, I don’t care. I can figure out how to eat later. I have to do it to survive. I have to create something. That’s like my form of therapy.
MALI: So, two things: The words infrastructure and advocacy. GangGang exists to talk about, we are motivated by, and I’m pissed off by the complete contradiction of the starving artist mentality and society’s commitment to keeping us in that position knowing that our quality of life is based purely on the creative class. It doesn’t make any sense that we don’t have jobs, or that it’s hard for us to find full-time work, or that we are even considered “hobbyists,” because we are supplying everything beautiful for everybody’s every day. GangGang exists to preach that. We’re advocating for the worth of the artists and for infrastructure.
SEAN: There was this gallery, a collective that I was a part of in Fountain Square, and it was just a ragtag group of kids. Lisa Berlin would paint things on the front window, where Zodiac Vintage is now. And there is this one she painted that was like, “Protect what you love.” And I think that is the most powerful mantra. That’s why Butter is such a moment. It feels like a warm hug. It’s something that you cannot explain. It feels comfortable. There’s nothing you can replicate going to Butter. It’s the human experience.
ALAN: And nobody else can do Chreece. That thing is a special joint. And part of what we’re doing is pouring back into our people what was taken from us when we landed here on ships. Our music, our fashion, our visual art. All these ideas are giving you this density, this nourishment. You’re right; it is a feeling. You do get filled in special ways. And that’s why you get a reporter out of LA who’s like, “Bro, what is this? How long have you been doing this?”
SEAN: We’re shattering those expectations of us. There are people who don’t know there are Black people in Indiana. I’m picking up 9th Wonder from the airport, and he’s like, “I didn’t know!” We’re trying to shatter those biases, those misconceptions. We really have a rich cultural history with Black music and art.
ALAN: And we’ll water it too. We’ll continue. You brought 9th Wonder here, and then he’s speaking for Steward Speakers [during Black History Month]. So it has legs, man. People are attaching themselves to it, bringing new stuff to it.
MALI: They’re looking for human experiences. The times when we can feel the most human. That’s why people are crying at Butter, and they don’t know why. Because they don’t have enough of this. There aren’t enough places that center care, and Butter’s mission is to center care and economic power.
ALAN: And that feeling was in the heart of Indiana Avenue when it was popping. But what happened to it?
SEAN: Eradicated.
MALI: So I guess what’s next for the scene? What should we do? What are we looking forward to? What should happen?
SEAN: I’m looking forward to Chreece this year. I’m looking forward to the progression. Like I said, we started bare bones. I thought there was a need for the hip-hop scene to be front and center. This will be our 11th year, and we had over 430 artists submit this year.
ALAN: That’s crazy.
SEAN: A quarter of them are from around the world and the country. We have artists coming from Brussels, Barcelona, Ecuador, New York, New Orleans, Chicago, LA. This year will be the first woman headliner, Rico Nasty. And we have Jorjiana from Michigan City, who will be our first nationally acclaimed Indiana artist. She’s got songs with GloRilla, NBA YoungBoy, Lil Yachty.
ALAN: Shout out to The Region, man.
SEAN: Yeah, yeah, she’s super sick. And then Ovrkast. from Oakland, California, will be playing. But it’s always going to be Naptown to the bone. Ninety percent of the artists are going to be from here. I think it’s important to nurture the scene here. A lot of festivals around the country, the Coachellas, the Lollapaloozas, the Bonnaroos, they take over the place and dip. I think it’s important to try to figure out ways to teach artists here how to do press kits, how to communicate with booking people or organizations like GangGang. That’s important for me especially as I’m getting older. I feel like I grew up around teachers. My mom was an elementary school teacher. My aunt’s a librarian. My other aunts were schoolteachers. I’m kind of getting into my “unc” age, so maybe it’s just naturally in me to want to teach. I think with hip-hop and just people in general, the shelf-life is so, so quick. I think it’s super important to embrace aging and embrace the evolution of it.
MALI: You said 90 percent of the artists are Indiana-based. So Butter has a rule, 50 percent of the exhibition is for Indiana artists, no matter where it is. Do you guys have a rule like that in Chreece?
SEAN: We don’t necessarily have a rule, but I think it’s important. I was thinking about this other day, how dope it is and what a privilege it is to be able to make and grow something that makes people want to come here. I remember being a kid and being like, “All right, we’re gonna go to Chicago.” A lot of people overlook these kinds of markets, but how amazing would it be to have Indianapolis rightfully recognized for what we create here and what we produce here? That’s super intriguing to me, to get people flying in here like it’s the Super Bowl for events like Butter or Chreece.
ALAN: It is cool just to hear people not only be intrigued about Indianapolis or have this curiosity but to also be like, “I’m coming to Chreece. Or I’m coming to Butter,” and ask them, “Where are you guys from?” “I’m from New York. I’m from California. We’re from Houston.” Even friends and cats we’ve hit with are move moving back to town. Sometimes you can go away thinking you’re going to get some sense of proximity not knowing how close you were when you were home, you know?
MALI: OK, so what you guys are talking about rightnow, how we’ve grown the arts sector, how it’s so amazing, how we’re bringing people here—do you think that non-art Indianapolis realizes what you’re talking about? Do you think that the economic development researchers, academic institutions, tech, agriculture, and the science industries understand what has taken place in the arts sector in the last five, 10, or 15 years? Do they get it?
SEAN: This is such a good question. I’d like to hope and think that they have some idea. Alan and I were talking about this. Those sectors are so vital to the existence of society, right? And I feel like people in those professions work really, really hard—and then they shut it off and turn to art and media as a palate cleanser, right? To kind of to get grounded.
MALI: To feel better or feel inspired.
SEAN: Yeah, to evoke something. So I hope that people outside of the arts and culture scene realize how important it is for people to exist. I hope it evokes enough feeling to where they’re like, “We cannot let this go away. We need to put as many chips as we can into this.”
MALI: Our lives are better because of it. The city is better. We’re making more money because of it. Our tourism. Our narrative. Our talent retention. Our talent attraction.
ALAN: Some get it, some don’t. Honestly, I think maybe the majority don’t. We’re still having this conversation about the starving artist. If the public, private, and philanthropic sectors “knew” knew, I think we would be in a different place. I think some people are getting it for sure, but I always push back. We’re still in the fight. So who’s joining?
MALI: So we’re in a really intense political environment, micro, macro. What’s the relationship between all of that and the arts? Who gets it? Who understands that the system wasn’t made for us, and who is talking about that? Who doesn’t even question that they would support the creators? What do you guys think about the whole political thing?
ALAN: What do you think, Mali?
MALI: When I think about who’s leading, the shapers or influencers of cities or countries, I think about those who understand the nuances of the system they are influencing. People who know the power of artists, the power of us, and who would not question their support of people who create things. The arts are foundational, much like conversations about justice. They shouldn’t be a seasonal priority but understood as inherent, essential to quality of life and place.
ALAN: I think there are times when we have a strong sense of collaboration, and that does feel good. There have been more conversations. When we did Swish [at the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament] back in 2021, there was some discourse on whether or not we should have live DJs. Even at that point, having to make the argument, “These are artists. That’s why they’re important.” I think we’ve seen some shifts, for sure. I think people have gotten it, but not as much as we need.
SEAN: We’re always going to be first on the chopping block, which is kind of crazy. No matter what, if it’s a music program in schools, that’s always the first thing cut. So politically, I just want someone that’s going to fight for our right to exist and express ourselves and make the city a better place. Because it’s proven that it contributes to quality of life, to mental health. People are always talking about crime. Imagine if there were more opportunities for kids to learn how to produce beats, or write, or learn that you don’t have to be MTV-level or on a national level to have a career in arts? These programs are vital to quality of life, inspiration, representation. Kids seeing Butter on Education Day or coming through Chreece and watching a beat battle, watching kids from Deckademics, DJ students DJing for their first time, I think is so important. I think someone that sees that should fight for it. Protect what you love, you know?
MALI: A big part of our job is telling people who artists are and reminding them of all the things that they create for people every day. We need to communicate that graphic designers are the people who made the menus at the restaurants. Your earrings were made by a jewelry designer. The music that you listen to, the podcast you listen to, the shoes that you’re wearing, what you decided to get dressed in, all of this was created by the mind of an artist. You’re just not calling them that. The fact that we call entertainment “entertainment” and not the arts isn’t helping. It’s our job to advocate and to teach about the artists and how we’re all already using it up, we’re just not acknowledging it. We refuse to articulate it in a way that says, “This was made by a furniture designer.” That’s an artist. We’re here to propose to cities that if they center the artists, the city will improve. That’s the deficit mindset that we need to overcome.
SEAN: I think it’s important to show people that whatever you’re doing is important. Which is why we have the Last Shot at Chreece, where people that didn’t make the fest can come and have the public vote them in American Idol–style, which started in a liquor store parking lot and now is in the ArtsGarden downtown. Or the G-Note panel, having people like Andrew Barber from Fake Shore Drive, who discovered Chance the Rapper and Chief Keef, and Talib Kweli giving industry advice to people. If they just hear one thing and can be inspired, it’s a game changer. I don’t want anyone to feel like anything is unrealistic. People told me no a whole bunch of times in my life. They asked me, “Why are you doing a hip-hop fest in a red state? This is crazy.” No one likes hearing that all the time. I think it’s important to push through that. Easier said than done, but nothing’s unrealistic.
ALAN: And how do you know you’re not touching the next Pharrell, or Virgil Abloh, or Kehinde Wiley, or Issa Rae?
MALI: That’s my point. The arts are unrealistic to some institutions. They make us seem like somehow our dreams are outlandish.
ALAN: This is part of the work, that discovery. We’re not listening to people that say that you can’t dream or that you can’t become. All that “can’t” stuff. We can’t stop dreaming. We’re on the other side of can’t. We can’t stop trying to tap into our people, to our artists, to feeding each other. We know this is necessary. This is what we need. If there’s ever a time in the history of this country where this work is needed, I think it’s right now. More than 2020 that popped it off. I think right now it’s so dire in the world.
MALI: The world as we know it certainly is ending.
ALAN: Being a part of the change, trying to hold on while things are not as clear, I think that’s a part of the work. Continuing to discover, knowing that everybody’s a Pharrell. Eastside Indianapolis has about 30 Pharrells right now.
