Art is….
Art is the father / mother upon whom never cast you aside.
She is the healing womb that gives love when beating upon her chest howling with grief.
She is the silence in a chaotic and oppressing black world.
She is the mirror of our morality.
She is the shining silver steel, the tool in which we use to thrust at the world. Destroyer of whispered arrogance, slayer of the hollow and vapidly innocuous.
Breath upon my lips without whom, the world would feel like suffocation.
The artists responsibility to her is a plain one. Question everything!
We are the voice to the voiceless. The only front that holds ground against those that have no masters.
The artist is the vessel through which, this phantom warrior seeks to break chains.
The greedy mouth tearing down fo-spirituality and indoctrinated script
We must defy our foretellings already writ.
Her obsessive nature dictates nothing less and everything more.
We no longer have the luxury of procrastination.
I no longer have the luxury of procrastination
We no longer have the luxury of fear
I no longer have the luxury of fear Same old government!
Same old self flagellating systems, frolicking on paper eye
Same old destructive species,
Same old perpetuating shit!
Same old repetitive insects scurry around with nihilistic charm,
Same old pens drop with perfumed stench
Same old drugs pushed by the same old smegma seeking to bed our profiting rotting sacks.
Same old self abuse
Same old self destruction
same old shit
same old
samo
Art is..
Defiance of everything
Defiance of the pre-constructed notions of your own destiny
Defiance of trauma that seeks to hold and devour
Defiance of control
Defiance of the confines of ones lineage
Defiance of the unjust
Defiance of social norms
Defiance of those who seek to rule, for those that cannot stand
Defiance of the fabrication of devision of species in all forms Defiance to fight against self repulsion, in order to understand and untangle spirituality and the meaning of all this being
Art is truth, not sincerity
Contextualisation:
For this piece I wanted to play with the intrinsic use of the english language and the implications that it can have on my work on a deeper level. An amalgamation of the pungency of all the art forms I feel compelled to work with in. Street art, film, language, sound, all layered to create a sense of "Martin Luther King" esk quality to my manifesto.
For me, creating a manifesto was about more than telling the world what I stand for. Its was about inspiring and connecting. Driving purpose and flame in others. I have a primal urgency to have my work express this.
I have live through a cult, sexual abuse, drug abuse, violence, trauma upon trauma and loosing my mind. Through it all, I have learnt that if there isn't truth, if you don't fight for it and for yourself, the only other option is death or an existence there in close to. If you don't stand for not only what is right for you but for us as a connected species, then what is the point?
Art is about far more than the creation of beauty... it is the curator of revolution, death, rebirth, restoration and revelations. It has the ability to transcend cultural barriers and is one of the most powerful tools man kind has.
Its one of the continuing reason I find myself drawn to graffiti and its use for this piece. As much as we depend on galleries for our survival, they are anti the very concepts that art stands for. Share cold economics dictates that space, hollow home for such a well of emotion, of screaming voices and protesting silence. Tucked away and sold of so a select few may learn from their gilded secrets. Graffiti is arts screaming defiance of that treatment of our work. A natural revolution.
“Artists are aiming to impress people when we should aim to inspire them”
Valdi Valdi - International street artist
Having stood as one of "the great silenced" "those without voice" I used myself as the actualisation of that pivotal emotion. Much as Tilda Swinton in Orlando. A determining anchor to which the viewer is able to connect with. I definantly used the piece to serve as a purgative action of my own trauma. Processing it through understanding and defining of my core ethos. Securing it about me like deeply bedded tree roots.
Delving into Basquiat, I was very excited to find an artist I related to so much. His use of urban poetry and deconstruction of the english language was something I felt particularly drawn to. With drippings of Elizabethan dialogue flippantly ladled with aggressive urban duality, he is beyond genius. I felt compelled by his energy to use this as an opportunity to push my writing in a far more creative nature with my statement, than I am use to. Setting tempo bars in line with spoken word poetry and its richness of culture in the street scene also.
Basquiat did this wonderful thing through out his work where he directly quotes his references in his own reflective stylings. I wanted to pay homage in much the same way to him. Adopting his own SAMO (same old shit) tag into the verse, in my own fashioning. I took segments of this and applied it to the public space, nodding once again to the master and his early years tagging on walls in New York.
The subject matter of an artists works, a lot of the time, aren't the most comfortable. We tackle the deep recesses of the human psyche, a place most fear to tread. With this in mind I chose to keep the aesthetics of the pieces, layered and grimy. Hints of sharp saturation darting in and out. Using crisp typography for punch points and to drive emotive flow.