Little littles to bigs

a world of madness is the only thing I promise you in 2020. Enjoy or drown.

#art#arte#artista#artist#painter#pintor#watercolor#ink#inkking#jãwsblake#jawara#triniartist#brazilianartista#surealartist#westindianartist#blue#red#yellow#afrolatino#afrolatinx

meu braço esquerdo é imaginário

Round and round

Film is so stunning and moving. I will never stop understanding the power of developing.

Painter files podcast ep 75 Fat city was next door to a ghost town

https://anchor.fm/jawara-blake/episodes/Fat-city-was-next-door-to-a-ghost-town-e8riqe

motion

In a fog.

Who and what am I running toward with my art now? I don’t know if I’m going to be infamous museums but I have hope. I had this fear by talking about my nomination I was jinking myself. But I don’t know I believe in jinking.

Makes me what to fight the sky.

Gotta work harder and past even remembering any of it. Because the art is more improtant then the rest stops.

madness

6 of 30

The mind has this part to it that holds flash memory. That moment when you see a thing and go ” I did this before”, and then forget. With 6 of 30 I want to feel like that.

Painter files podcast ep 28

always making

Painter files Podcast ep 27

PPFthis 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. IMG_0701 2IMG_1061IMG_5115IMG_6515IMG_7711I love her stance.

Painter Files Podcast ep 25

 

 

The artists in random order.

Dali

Frida Kahlo

Toyin Odutola

Basquait

Music by Japanese Breakfast -Road Head

 

tips

I'm glad you enjoy the podcast and if you like you are welcome to leave a tip.

$1.00

https://www.patreon.com/JawaraBlake

Little Littles of muchness

Taste like poison, deep and rich. The dark matter matters as the only air I feel is the fan on my face. The skies little kisses splashing on praying eyes. Avalon is a dream and we are all but dreamers. Fire crawling up my temples and no end in sight. The feet roll up inside the welcome mat as the covers buried the man to young to remember his passwords to the WIFI. His sleep will take all his secrets until morning. No one soul is everything and no one soul is nothing.

A kingdom of paper plates. A jungle of unknown wealth jumbled in red, green, yellow and blue holiday lights. Forgotten in the dreams of liquid lucid lopsided lovers of all things dreams.

Bury me down by the river so as the Earth eats me I feed the children with the fruits of Summer. It’s all a thumbprint on a glass spiderweb.

Remember to forget the things that give you pain and eat the things that bring you your reflections of you feels. They become parts of pieces of all the little littles that inspire you.

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