redhartcompany-blog

[redhartcompany-blog]

My cage

Just imagine a little boy trapped inside of a cage with no obvious way out. This is the plight that I had growing up in unfamiliar locations with people who couldn't relate to me at all. I had to find an escape that would bring the world closer to me and me closer to the world. Art was that escape for me. There is no artifice when my pencil touches the blank page. The images produced are the result of every interaction that I have had with the world. When I was four years old living in Bessemer, Alabama I was blessed with the opportunity to see a piece of artwork that my father had created.The crayon shavings infused with Elmer's glue co-mingled to form a rendition of Jesus that l had never observed before. It gave off a glow like nothing that I had ever seen before in my short life span. I was hooked trying to resurrect that feeling that I received that day. I tried to emulate any and every form of art that I saw. Nothing came close to that experience that l was graced with. My family moved this time it was to Niagara falls, New York I was five years old. I was very adament about my desire to move back to Alabama to be close to my father the closest thing to God that I knew. I felt that I could recapture that fleeting emotion that was starting to decipate at a ever increasing pace. This is when I was introduced to Junior and Martez they were to become the closest thing to friends that I would ever have while I lived in Niagara Falls. My cage didn't seem so lonely now that I had people who shared the the same interest as me. We drew comic book characters together day in and day out. The time was spent in silence but it was like we all were one through the pencil. Illusury things that make the mind feel at peace while it is waiting on the real prize. We continued this cycle for years until my family moved again this time to the other side of town, I was nine years old. I met a man who's name I can't rightfully recall but I remember his job occupation and his artwork. He was a commercial artist for Honda. He would sit on his porch eating peanutbutter and jelly with saltine crackers. You could see how content he was as he inked the cars onto the pages of bristol board. I wanted to syphon some of that joy that made him light up like fireworks on the fuorth of July I could see it swirling around in his eyes. This didn't last long we were on the move again now we lived in yet another part of town. I was lonlier than ever I didn't know anyone on this side of town so I was immersed ever deeper into my artwork. I was forced into a new shell like a conch trying to fight for my survival. I had already had some therapy by now it just agitated me even more than just being left alone. My mother wanted to move again this time we were moving to Springfield, Ohio. Eleven years old in a state of constant ups and downs I searched out people whom I could relate to, so I found a group of wanna be artist with some skills that made me want to be absorbed into their cipher. They made me forget that I just wanted to go back to the last place that I felt comfortable for a while. (R.I.P.)(Demarcus Allen was the ringleader of our merry band of misfit artist with the desire to inscribe our art on any and everything we found suitable.)Our teachers tried to steer us onto a path that would lead us to college or at least art school. We did murals for classes and other assorted functions. I was quickly becoming known as a talent in the world of art I even got a few of my pieces in some local art shows.It looked as if my cage door was being thrust open without my consent. Feelings of elation and reverence made feel as if the world was finally starting to except me but all I wanted to do was close my cage door back. The spiral continued up until high school were all my well designed plans met with a very literal cage.The first juvenile facility led to the next then on to the Ohio state penitentiary. I have been in here held captive for the last 16 years by my own mind and my artwork. I have now realized that my work was not for me it was to deliver my story so people can understand what it is to be alone in a place of 7 billion people. Well until the next time ,peace.

My Cage