art
Who I Am /
Cogito. Ergo. Sum.
For I am who I am; my name is my name. I tire of these things, these games I play. I find myself traveling further from who I am. I cannot hide anymore. Where can one run to get away from himself?
Tomorrow begins a new work. A new day where I look forward to building upon the foundation that God gave me. One that is my birthright, and has been passed on through my family.
The artist, I am. The artist I will become. I will find a way.
LIBERATION! /
There is hope. There is always hope to become greater and better than one is; to move beyond what you have been to what you can be.
If any of you have ever watched the NBC comedy, “Community”, you may have seen the black guy named Troy. His real name is Donald Glover, and I think he has single handedly restored my faith in my abilities as an artist.
One of my friends (GC lePresh) had me check out someone called “Childish Gambino” and to tell me what I thought about him. Lo and behold, it was Donald Glover’s rapper persona. Seems this guy has been rapping for a few years now, apparently just for fun. What’s even more interesting is that he doesn’t even need the money. He just does it because he wants to; because it makes him happy. He has about 3 EPs (one actually named, “EP”) and 3 albums under the Childish Gambino moniker. He also produces beats under the name mcDJ. One of the albums he produced is called “Sick Boi”, in which is raps sounding congested or like he has a cold. How refreshing is that? Who does that? Even more amazing he made it sound dope.
His creativity is what amazes me most. I think I have been stifled so much that I was reaching to be like someone else. Glover is not trying to be anyone, as I see it. It’s more like he is experimenting with what he thinks is cool. He's experimenting with himself. I can really relate to that. And yesterday, as I sat and thought about who Donald was and what he’s done, I again began to believe that I have an ambition that urges to burst forth.
I was trying to paint something to look like him or so and so, and not really expressing the full scope of my creativity. I sat at my easel yesterday tentatively painting and struggling through my newest creation, and I it suddenly became apparent that I was the one in control of the piece. At once I understood that every stroke was completely my own and no one can say that they have done what I did. The work belonged to ME and ONLY ME. In that moment tears welled up in my eyes, and I wept uncontrollably. It was like I had been in a darkened room and someone flipped the light switch on. Such an overwhelming emotion it was, that I stop working and thank God for his insight and love.
Childish Gambino. His free spirit freed my own. I need to thank this dude somehow. I am self-realized and liberated. Now and until I die.
If any of you have ever watched the NBC comedy, “Community”, you may have seen the black guy named Troy. His real name is Donald Glover, and I think he has single handedly restored my faith in my abilities as an artist.
One of my friends (GC lePresh) had me check out someone called “Childish Gambino” and to tell me what I thought about him. Lo and behold, it was Donald Glover’s rapper persona. Seems this guy has been rapping for a few years now, apparently just for fun. What’s even more interesting is that he doesn’t even need the money. He just does it because he wants to; because it makes him happy. He has about 3 EPs (one actually named, “EP”) and 3 albums under the Childish Gambino moniker. He also produces beats under the name mcDJ. One of the albums he produced is called “Sick Boi”, in which is raps sounding congested or like he has a cold. How refreshing is that? Who does that? Even more amazing he made it sound dope.
His creativity is what amazes me most. I think I have been stifled so much that I was reaching to be like someone else. Glover is not trying to be anyone, as I see it. It’s more like he is experimenting with what he thinks is cool. He's experimenting with himself. I can really relate to that. And yesterday, as I sat and thought about who Donald was and what he’s done, I again began to believe that I have an ambition that urges to burst forth.
I was trying to paint something to look like him or so and so, and not really expressing the full scope of my creativity. I sat at my easel yesterday tentatively painting and struggling through my newest creation, and I it suddenly became apparent that I was the one in control of the piece. At once I understood that every stroke was completely my own and no one can say that they have done what I did. The work belonged to ME and ONLY ME. In that moment tears welled up in my eyes, and I wept uncontrollably. It was like I had been in a darkened room and someone flipped the light switch on. Such an overwhelming emotion it was, that I stop working and thank God for his insight and love.
Childish Gambino. His free spirit freed my own. I need to thank this dude somehow. I am self-realized and liberated. Now and until I die.
Liquidating the Cares Causing Corruption /
Living languid in a fantasy world
The pictures placate lies abandoned, they will soon gather in
Cryptic posturing abroad, in the mirrors they pretend
Catching glimpses that describe how much money was made
Crushing codgers thumbing at their pill bottles, naked
Lighting laughter, sketches of dream gateways angled
The pleated monuments caught and frozen in mind
Centering on the sound leaving my life, those words wait,
Carrying meaning across the solar system to escape
Cataclysm, the breath taking, wasted but once sacred
Looking like an imbecile, my pretensions are jagged and heavy like bricks
The crown of genius dropped and I survey the release of my ego
Captain of a ship doomed to disaster one day, like all
Costs me nothing but affords a lock on reality
Contain, contract your lucid act, cock the gun on your favorite.
Leave me be
Thank you for noticing
Common are those almond eyes lurking alone
Concoct some building block that creates a shield
Creating a prison of a promising home
The pictures placate lies abandoned, they will soon gather in
Cryptic posturing abroad, in the mirrors they pretend
Catching glimpses that describe how much money was made
Crushing codgers thumbing at their pill bottles, naked
Lighting laughter, sketches of dream gateways angled
The pleated monuments caught and frozen in mind
Centering on the sound leaving my life, those words wait,
Carrying meaning across the solar system to escape
Cataclysm, the breath taking, wasted but once sacred
Looking like an imbecile, my pretensions are jagged and heavy like bricks
The crown of genius dropped and I survey the release of my ego
Captain of a ship doomed to disaster one day, like all
Costs me nothing but affords a lock on reality
Contain, contract your lucid act, cock the gun on your favorite.
Leave me be
Thank you for noticing
Common are those almond eyes lurking alone
Concoct some building block that creates a shield
Creating a prison of a promising home