I came here to leave scars. 
Always making
I came here to leave scars.
Tag: artwork
Painter Files Podcast ep 33
My intro was composed by Cade Henley. He is this amazing Australian Tigre. I love his style and am honored he is alive and took his time to make my intro.
This is that movie I was talking about. Everything is Illuminated. Beautiful work building movie.
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Pleas
A labyrinth of parts
I grew up not in a place but at an age. There wasn’t a crazy amount of time to be just a kid. A none stop fight living in The South. Little curly haired Afro-Latino kids are meat for the grinder. Good people held my hands with tear filled eyes. I’m telling you this not as a sad story but as a warning that this shit stops this generation. Voćes, fala sério? We are here and never going away and so we are you and you us. No one but maybe a few of us chooses to be a place as children. We are luggage for our galera. We live in their shadows. Where the sun hits them we are behind them or to the side. It’s important to know we are all shadows at one time or another. Tigre this is the same life repeated. Un clavo saco otro clavo! Being divided is not the future. Teach art and you teach love. Art has this great part to it because you meet the art before the artists. All the ignorance in the world can’t make you hate the colors of the skies.
Teach art not hate Tigre.
Painter Files Podcast ep 29 Music moves me.
WHUR John Blake http://whur.com/shows/caribbean-experience/
Musicians
Prince, Outkast, Benjamin Booker, Nina Simone, Ben Harper, Frank Ocean and Lolawolf.
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Painter files podcast ep 28
always making
Painter big birdwoman
Always in the must of making.
Painter files Podcast ep 27
this should be my book cover.
Everything is everything
I make to feel connected to the memory of her spirit. I see her in a divided timeline. 
I love her stance.
no lifeguard
got no time to be your lifeguard.
Drowning used to be my game in the dark nights. The Silver Fish danced to the blindspots only to kiss a finger as I slept on an old futton. The bed was too good for a soul with stains like mine. Sad daddies of children with no birthdays. I see the baby hairs in the corners of my eyes as I sit in empty rooms dreaming of clicks and emails. I can’t be a lifeguard, I’ve been swimming me entire life in lakes made of Milo. West India of the Western world calls out to me.
“B da truff,” is the voice of the wind. I found her name in the sleep at the edge of my inner eyes. She is hard but soft, kind but stern and alive and yet never born.
Madness in the paint drops.
Painter Files Podcast ep 25
The artists in random order.
Dali
Frida Kahlo
Toyin Odutola
Basquait
Music by Japanese Breakfast -Road Head
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