I haven't sat down to write anything here in so long that it's embarrassing. We have so many resources for communication nowadays that it's overwhelming; email, social media platforms a through z, websites, blogs... I won't mention my "best intentions" or make excuses because I'm here to catch you up. The fact is many of you got directed here from another platform anyway.
In the interest of sharing the things I love and trying my best to keep folks in the loop about what I'm doing and the cool things going on around us here is a list of recent projects that have kept me super busy and a list of upcoming and ongoing things that might be of interest that have sucked me in.
Things are looking dire these days. Like people have taken their cue to lose their collective shits and publicize it. My octogenarian godfather who has lived and seen two world wars and a Cold War often remarks on things he sees "today" as signs of the biblical end of days.
He forgets though that he's been telling me this for over forty years. It's the slowest apocalypse ever. Or is it?
I remind myself when I get wound up over people's ignorance, hatefulness or our society's inequities that poverty, fear, greed, war, depravity all pre-date our current era by millennia. Those things cross all boundaries of space and tim...
I'll be 45 in a couple weeks. That's a huge deal for me but I'm trying to keep that cool. That said, I want to have this party that shows where I am now. I'm lucky to have a couple great friends that are also Tauruses ( I know very little about astrology but it's fun to bond over trivial things sometimes). We all work around similar themes from different orientations and want to explore the overlaps within the frame of Afrofuturism.
Nahdra Ra Kiros is a phenomenal fashion designer who I see as a story teller and world builder. Much of my current storyline in "A Come Up" is based on her aesthetic. I'm excited for this collaborative effort. We'll see what kind of funky futuristic soul she comes up wit...
I’ll most likely read it and go, “GAAAAAHHHH!!!! What was I thinking?”
I am forcing myself to write down thoughts and communicate to God Knows Whom in this blog that may never be read and that I may never even go back and read but I’m trying my damnedest to hold to some sort of process and an agenda.
So here goes.
Let me start by going backwards if I can. Let me start by explaining why I’m so tired and frazzled and angst ridden.
I’m sitting in my studio, it’s looking more and more like a broom closet. A comrade whom also uses the space here at 391 Dudley Street ( I can’t call it by the name that the organizer does) saw me bringing in shippin...
It starts to bug me when I hear certain folks shout about the one percent while they sip macchiatos and sport the newest trends as they drive their gas guzzling war machines with fancy spinning rims.
Who are these people? Am I them? What are their struggles? Are they really shouting about the inequity that the homeless and poverty stricken face daily without an escape route? Are they starting a business and finding it a bit rough or are they looking for a relative to crash with because they just lost their job and consequently their home?
It strikes me that lots of people are crying poor and screaming, ''THE STRUGGLE IS REAL!!!" No, really. I saw it on a cable TV commercial ast their ad campaign. Tha...
I have never been completely comfortable being called an artist. I know that may shock some but many who know me are rolling their eyes thinking, “No duh. You’re never comfortable with anything.” Be that as it may, I often have a hard time identifying publicly and socially as an artist because of the pretense and stereotypes the title comes with. Artists also have a tendency due to the nature of our brains to go so deeply into work that the ideas and rationales become esoteric and start to form a language and culture of exclusivity. This is not a sin or a crime or something to be ashamed of but it tends to pull the practitioner away from the audience; especially the audiences that for what ever reas...
Damn. I know it’s been a minute and I haven’t been here for a while. It’s almost insulting to tell people you’ve been busy. No one wants to hear it because in this life we are all busier than we’d like. My brand of busy is intense but no more significant than yours. So if you’re reading this and you’ve patronized me or just followed what I get on about, thank you for your grace and patience.
My brand of busy has had me setting up shop in a small community oriented arts and activism hub in Roxbury. The Patroen-age helps to subsidize this effort.
For that I am eternally grateful. I have been trying to purge my spaces of old art stuff; paintings, drawings, etc. by posting and...
I sometimes wonder what its like to be you. You other people. I understand that we are all connected and “all alike in the ways that count the most”, but I wonder what it’s like to be someone other than me. Not through empathy or imagination or anything like that, (this is not about Solipsism :(i/ˈsɒlɨpsɪzəm/; from Latin solus, meaning "alone", and ipse, meaning "self") is the philosophical idea that only one's own mind is sure to exist.). I’m sure you all exist, otherwise I’d go around naked jaywalking. I wonder what its like to wake up in a body that is totally different. More specifically, I wonder how you all get through your days and lifetimes.
So, Yeah... We all get told and warned and taught how to do things from the time we first learn to act out our independence. From the first time baby us grabs at a pair of glasses or touches a stove or pulls a dog's tail we are learning lessons. Hopefully we keep learning bigger and better lessons after we learn the basic dumbshit like "FIRE is HOT" or "DOGS BITE". Hopefully we learn things like subtlety and patience and tact. Hopefully.
I have always had a distinct problem with learning certain things. I know fire is hot but how hot? How long can I stand two inches from it playing "I'm not touching you!" ? How long before the pitbull's warning snap at my hand catches and breaks the skin?
I used to love to sleep. It seemed like such a natural way to find peace. And there it was. Every night. Waiting for you to brush your teeth and give in to it. I remember the days when I used to try control my dreams before falling asleep by doing things like eating sugary treats or staying up for days or thinking hard about something or someone. Sleep was a cool way to watch TV that was all about you.
As a kid I was called a dreamer so many times that I just said "...Okay." and embraced it. I day dreamed and wandered off into the thought world by myself and met all sorts of situations to cool for the real world. I considered all my imaginings and "what ifs" to be dreams because everyone kept telling...