Spilata: The Art of Putting It All Together
From meticulously crafted visuals and unconventional songwriting to the intersection of jazz and house music, Spilata is creating a world of his own and inviting everyone into it.
For Spilata, the music is only part of the picture.
Long before we sat down for our Open Gate Conversation at the National Jazz Museum in Harlem, Spilata wanted to talk about how the interview would look.
Not what questions I planned to ask or which subjects we would explore, but the visual presentation. The lighting. The room. The atmosphere we would create on camera.
In fact, he initiated a meeting with me beforehand to discuss the aesthetics of the production. And on the day of our interview, he arrived ready to offer suggestions about how we could arrange the space for the greatest visual impact.
His input was thoughtful, valuable, and ultimately helped us create one of the most visually memorable settings for an Open Gate Conversation.
That experience offered an early glimpse into something I would come to appreciate about Spilata: his attention to detail isn't limited to the music.
For Spilata, a jazz artist, vocalist, composer, and educator, visual presentation is an extension of artistic expression. Fashion, lighting, imagery, and even the smallest accessories become part of a larger creative vision.
Consider the monocle cane he designed and constructed himself specifically for the music video for “The Cuntiest.” It's a striking example of the thought and craftsmanship he invests in bringing his artistic vision to life. Rather than relying solely on what's available, Spilata creates the elements he needs to realize the aesthetic he imagines.
But perhaps what fascinated me most was discovering how that same creative sensibility manifests itself in his songwriting.
The Art of Assembly
During our conversation, Spilata described a lyrical process that reminded me of assembling a puzzle.
Rather than writing songs in a linear fashion, he begins by putting words and phrases on paper in no particular order. From there, he finds the connections, rearranging the pieces until they become a finished work.
It's an intriguing approach to composition, and one that reveals something about the way he thinks creatively.
Whether he's constructing a song, conceptualizing a music video, or considering the placement of furniture in an interview setting, Spilata is thinking about how the individual pieces contribute to the whole.
There's a fascinating contrast in that process. His visual presentation can appear carefully orchestrated, while his songwriting begins with fragments that have yet to find their place. Both approaches ultimately arrive at something cohesive, something distinctly his.
And that ability to bring different elements together extends beyond his songwriting and visual presentation. It's also at the heart of his musical identity.
Spilata: A Jazz Artist Who Brings House Music to the Dance Floor
One of the most compelling examples of Spilata's approach to music is his viral song, “Haiku,” which seamlessly blends elements of jazz and house music.
During our interview, he spoke about his love of dancing to house music and how that passion found its way into the song.
It's a wonderful example of how an artist's personal experiences can inform their creative choices. Rather than treating jazz and house as separate musical worlds, Spilata brings them together, allowing the rhythmic energy of the dance floor to coexist with his jazz sensibilities.
And why shouldn't they?
Jazz has always been a music of exchange, absorbing influences, responding to its surroundings, and reinventing itself through generations of artists who dared to imagine something different.
Spilata's approach feels very much in that tradition.
He has never appeared particularly interested in limiting himself to the confines of a single genre or accepting a prescribed definition of what a jazz artist should look or sound like.
Instead, he draws from the music and experiences that move him, creating something that reflects the fullness of his artistic identity.
And in doing so, he's opening doors for listeners who might not otherwise find their way into jazz.
A World Without Borders
There's something remarkable about watching an artist bring together people who might otherwise have very little in common.
When I attended Spilata's performance at Poster House in New York City, I found myself looking around the room as much as I was watching the stage.
What struck me was the audience.
There were younger listeners and older ones. People of different races, genders, backgrounds, and walks of life. It was a wonderfully diverse gathering, and everyone had come to experience the same artist.
In that moment, I was reminded of something I've long believed about music: its ability to connect people who might never otherwise cross paths.
Spilata's music seems particularly adept at creating those connections. Although jazz is central to his artistic identity, his approach doesn't demand that listeners arrive with a particular understanding of the genre.
Instead, he invites them into his world on their own terms.
And nowhere has that invitation become more apparent than with “Haiku.”
When the Audience Becomes Part of the Art
What began as Spilata's own creative expression has taken on a life beyond the original recording.
People around the world have been using “Haiku” as the musical backdrop for their own haiku, sharing reflections drawn from personal experiences, observations, and the social issues affecting their lives.
Each contribution is different. Each voice brings something new.
The result is more than a viral moment. It's an ongoing exchange between an artist and an audience that has found a way to make the music its own.
There's something beautifully fitting about that, particularly given Spilata's approach to songwriting.
He describes assembling his lyrics like pieces of a puzzle, finding meaning in the way seemingly disconnected thoughts come together.
Now, through “Haiku,” listeners are contributing their own pieces, creating a larger mosaic of individual experiences connected by a common musical thread.
And what makes this phenomenon particularly exciting is its potential to introduce people to jazz who might never have considered themselves fans of the music.
Sometimes the doorway into jazz isn't a classic recording, a history lesson, or a familiar standard. Sometimes it's a song that captures someone's imagination, a rhythm that makes them move, or a social media moment that encourages them to participate.
The entry point may be unconventional, but the connection is no less meaningful.
For an art form that has spent decades wrestling with questions of tradition, innovation, and accessibility, there's something refreshing about watching an artist create new pathways for listeners to discover the music.
Why I Left the Gate Open
During our conversation, I shared something with Spilata that I felt was important for him to know.
When I created Open Gate Conversations, he was one of the artists I had in mind.
Artists like Spilata embody the very reason I wanted to build this platform.
For far too long, conversations about jazz have been shaped by questions of authenticity, tradition, and who gets to decide what belongs within the genre.
But jazz has never been a static art form.
Its history is one of innovation, experimentation, cultural exchange, and artists challenging the conventions of their time. The music has continually evolved because musicians have refused to accept that its possibilities were exhausted.
And I believe its future depends on that same willingness to push forward.
Spilata represents a generation of artists who aren't waiting for permission to explore those possibilities.
By bringing together jazz and house music, embracing contemporary language and visual culture, and engaging audiences through social media, he's creating new points of entry into the music.
Those new listeners matter.
Because the future of jazz isn't simply about preserving what came before. It's also about cultivating curiosity, welcoming new audiences, and making space for the artists who will shape what comes next.
That's why I created Open Gate Conversations.
I wanted a place for artists who challenge expectations, blur boundaries, and refuse to let anyone else determine the limits of their creativity.
Artists who don't just walk through an open gate.
They kick it open.
The Bigger Picture
The more I reflect on my conversation with Spilata, the more I recognize a common thread running through his work.
From the deliberate construction of his visual identity to the unconventional way he assembles lyrics, his creative process is rooted in bringing individual elements together to create something larger.
He brings jazz and house music together. He transforms individual words and phrases into songs. He builds visual elements that help bring his creative ideas to life.
And perhaps most importantly, his music brings people together.
At Poster House, I witnessed an audience that reflected a remarkable cross-section of people. Through “Haiku,” that sense of connection has extended across geographical and cultural boundaries, as listeners find ways to weave their own stories into his music.
Spilata may be meticulous about how he constructs his artistic world, but he doesn't appear interested in restricting who gets to enter it.
And that's what makes his approach so compelling.
Because ultimately, the art of putting it all together isn't simply about how the music is made, how the visuals are designed, or how the finished product is presented.
It's also about the people who find themselves connected through it, and the possibilities that emerge when we allow the music to grow.
Preservation honors where jazz has been. Evolution ensures it has somewhere to go.
Who in the hell left the gate open?
I did. And artists like Spilata are exactly why.
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