Featured Contributor · No. 1

How Soulful Playground Captured Hearts Through the Lens

A conversation between Kool Kim and Chris V about Hip Hop, photography, recognition, and the memories worth preserving.

Chris V didn’t arrive at Beats & Bars Barbecue with plans to become one of its most important visual contributors.

In fact, he almost forgot the event was happening.

It started with a conversation between Chris and Akil the MC of Jurassic 5 about some of their favorite records. Chris mentioned that one of the first records he ever played as a DJ was by the UMC’s.

Akil laughed and told him Kool Kim lived in Augusta, Georgia, and hosted a Hip Hop barbecue.

Chris: “I’m like, what?”

Akil told him he should come along the following year.

Chris figured it was one of those things people say and never follow through on.

But months later, Akil remembered. And soon Chris was riding down to Augusta, camera in hand.

He expected maybe ten people hanging out at somebody’s house.

Instead, he walked into a full-fledged Hip Hop family reunion.

Chris: “It felt more like a family reunion than a party.”

Chris: “I don’t think I have a single picture with anybody. But I got to have so many conversations with people.”

He’d come to meet an artist whose record had been part of his earliest DJ experiences. Instead, he found himself surrounded by people whose contributions to Hip Hop he’d known for decades.

And somewhere between the conversations and the unexpected encounters, Chris started taking photographs.

A Beautiful Ordinary

Photography wasn’t Chris’s first creative language.

Growing up in Martins Ferry, Ohio, he’d been a breaker, an eMCee, a DJ, and eventually a producer. His journey carried him through Chicago’s Hip Hop scene, recording sessions in Atlanta, and a long list of musical experiences.

But photography gave him a different way to express what he saw.

He began taking pictures to accompany his instrumental recordings, finding beauty in things most people walked past without noticing.

One early project was called A Beautiful Ordinary to Me.

The idea was to take something ordinary and make people look at it differently.

That philosophy would eventually become central to Soulful Playground.

When Kim asked what made photographing Beats & Bars different, Chris had plenty to say.

Chris: “There’s an energy that you have built into that thing.”

Chris: “There’s no need for intention at your event.”

Chris: “Everywhere else I have to set up a shoot. You know, you have to think about, you have to be intentional.”

At Beats & Bars, he explained, the moments were happening faster than he could photograph them.

Chris: “Do you understand how much B-Boying I missed last year?”

Chris: “Because everything else was so amazing, I couldn’t cut myself in half to be in that side and that side at the same time.”

The conversation revealed something important about Chris’s photography. He wasn’t simply arranging attractive images. He was responding to a place where people were genuinely doing things worth remembering.

But what he did with those photographs afterward was just as significant.

Everybody Gets Their Name in Lights

Following the 2026 gathering, Chris began publishing photographs and videos from the weekend.

Not just pictures of recognizable artists. Everybody.

He added personalized names, logos, and graphics, giving ordinary attendees the kind of presentation usually reserved for performers.

Kim noticed the difference.

Kim: “This year, 2026, I mean, you went above and beyond with catching some great footage.”

Kim: “And then on top of that, branding it out for Beats & Bars, and then giving everybody their own logo.”

Chris knew exactly why he wanted to do it.

Chris: “If you have a chance to give somebody their name in lights, do it.”

Chris: “Having their logo on it, it made everybody just feel a different kind of way.”

Chris: “Cause I was a rapper. I was trying to get heard.”

Chris: “I had my 8x10 that I used to go around with, with the black and white, with my logo on.”

He remembered the excitement of seeing his own name on a marquee and having a photograph that made him feel like a legitimate artist. And he wanted to share a little of that experience with other people.

Chris: “So I wanted to make sure a few people had a chance to feel that.”

That simple philosophy transformed the photographs into something more personal. Chris wasn’t merely documenting who attended. He was helping people feel that their presence mattered.

And as the photographs continued appearing online, Kim noticed another effect.

The Weekend That Wouldn’t End

The barbecue ended in April. But the photographs kept coming. New faces. New moments. New videos.

Weeks passed, and people were still reliving the gathering through Soulful Playground’s images.

Kim: “What your pictures and the way you presented that content did was that it extended the Beats & Bars experience for about a month and a half, two months past the event.”

Kim: “And every day that something went up, it was as if it happened yesterday.”

Chris was already thinking about what that could become.

Chris: “I think the way you’re building the website now, this content will have way more impact this coming year than it even did before.”

Chris: “Because you’re going to give it a place to live where I was just throwing it on Instagram or anywhere.”

The idea of a permanent home for the photographs led naturally to another possibility. Something people could actually hold in their hands.

Wait... A Yearbook?

Chris: “You should do a yearbook.”

Kim: “Word.”

Chris: “F***ing high school yearbook kind of vibe.”

Chris imagined a limited-edition publication filled with the people and memories of Beats & Bars. Not simply a souvenir featuring the biggest names, but something where everybody had a chance to see themselves.

Chris: “Or since you’re doing a magazine, just make it look like a magazine and don’t even do a bunch of them this year. Just maybe have 20 or 30 of them.”

The conversation moved toward the possibility of an annual publication, with photographs, memories, and the people who helped make each edition special.

But Chris kept returning to the emotional value of recognition.

Chris: “If you have a chance to give somebody their name in lights, do it.”

Imagine turning a page and seeing Dinco-D. Then turning another page and seeing yourself. The idea was bigger than merchandise.

It was about belonging.

And it led the conversation into an even deeper question: What exactly was Chris capturing?

A Museum You Can Walk Into

Chris has visited Hip Hop museums and historical exhibitions. He appreciates their purpose, but he sees a limitation in presenting a living culture entirely through photographs of the past.

He told Kim that Beats & Bars offered something different.

Chris: “What you did with this event, it’s like, in a weird way, a hip-hop museum and a gallery of all this older stuff that we appreciate from hip-hop, but in a way you experience it, not a way you look at the photos of it.”

Chris: “What you created, but it’s a feeling. It’s not pictures.”

At Beats & Bars, the culture isn’t simply being remembered. It’s happening. The eMCees are rhyming. The breakers are battling. The graffiti writers are painting. And people who helped shape Hip Hop’s history are standing right there among everyone else.

Chris: “You’re not watching it. You’re living it.”

That observation brought the conversation back to why the photographs mattered. They weren’t substitutes for the experience. They were reminders that the experience was real.

And then, as the two continued talking about the work involved in creating Beats & Bars, the conversation took an unexpectedly personal turn.

A Different Kind of Rich

Kim reflected on the physical work of building the stage, outdoor kitchen, and garden. The digging. The concrete. The long days. He also spoke about his music career and the years he’d spent pursuing something that hadn’t always produced the financial rewards he’d hoped for.

Chris responded with a different measure of success.

Chris: “You make people feel good, bro.”

Chris: “You’re f***ing rich.”

He wasn’t talking about money.

Chris: “You make people feel something.”

Chris reminded Kim that his records had become part of people’s lives. Songs played at weddings. Music remembered from childhood. Records that inspired people to become artists themselves.

Chris: “You actually made people happy.”

Chris: “You get to die rich. I promise you that.”

What began as a conversation about photographs had become a conversation about the lasting value of creative work.

And in a way, it brought the entire story full circle. Chris had first discovered Kool Kim through a record he played as a young DJ. Decades later, he was sitting with that same artist, explaining how the music had affected his life. Now he was using his own creativity to give other people moments they might remember just as long.

The Next Picture

As Beats & Bars prepares for its fifth anniversary, Chris is already thinking about how to document what comes next.

More photographs. More video. More faces. And perhaps, eventually, a physical yearbook that gives everybody a place in the story.

The developing Beats & Bars photo archive will offer visitors a chance to revisit those moments and discover the people behind them. Because the real achievement of Soulful Playground isn’t simply making people look good in photographs. It’s making them feel seen.

And sometimes, that feeling lasts longer than the picture itself.