One of the most important decisions I ever made in my life was to pursue art. When I was a child I wanted to be an artist. Art class was the only class in school that I actually enjoyed, and I loved it. However, art came naturally in some ways and in other ways and types of art were difficult for me.
When I was in 5th or 6th-grade art was in fact my favorite class and I loved my teacher. Mrs. Pantle was one of the most awesome teachers I ever had, and to this day, I seriously doubt she would even remember my name. Mrs. Pantle brought my parents into school for a parent-teacher conference. Needless to say…these never went well.
Mrs. Pantle told my parents that I had a gift in art and I seemed to really gravitate and excel in that area. Let’s face it everybody knew the kid who was getting swats every week, and everyone knew I made average grades because I had no interest in school at all. Why would I apply myself to an education I did not believe in?
My mother was so happy to hear that anything in my life was positive in school and I remember her and Mrs. Pantle talking for quite some time, and showing her the artwork I had done in class. My father sitting there literally rolling his eyes counting the minutes until we could level. As we were leaving he was shaking his head and talking to my mother about how ridiculous it was to pursue art.
Instead of arguing in front of me, my mother just smiled at me and we went home. I was psychologically destroyed. The only area of my life that I was good at something, was never going to be supported by the most important people in my life at the time. On a subconscious level, I believe this created a lifetime of bitterness and resentment. I additionally pinpoint this experience as one of the biggest “psychological smack down’s “… That I never recovered from.
This was the first time in my life I felt like a failure because my father and his belief system ruined my perception of myself, and what I was wanting to become. Almost every tremendously talented person has the same two common denominators. They had a supportive parent or parents, and they started at an early age. They grew into the talent we love and admire, they were not born that way.
I do not have a single memory of art from that day forward. It was as if I had been completely paralyzed and had to redefine my entire way of life and thinking. I believed I was defective as a result of enforced belief systems that I was never born to be. Keep in mind, we are a Christian family and the reality of my story is most definitely someone else’s child today. To this day… 50 years later my father still believes the only right way to live is the way he did.
I drifted into more and more trouble and became trouble in many ways. I needed to get into trouble all the time at school for popularity. It had become my identity at this point and it was my first sense of “personal empowerment”. I began to enjoy being the “bad” kid. I even went as far as to take the blame for a few “jock’s” and “preps” who had gotten themselves into a “pinch” and were going to get into trouble.
In high school, I ended up taking a metals class because most “delinquents” took metals class and we all grouped together, the same as the rich kids. I was a natural at welding, probably no question due to my artistic abilities that I never used. So, that’s what I did with my life. I pursued a life I literally hated in exchange for acceptance. “How pathetic”. Honestly, I had no idea at the time I was pathetic, I thought I was normal. Doing what everyone else does because that is what people do. My father always said, “you have to be realistic”.
What he should have said was this…Rich people control every aspect of society and an art career would be difficult if you were not privileged. He really knew nothing about art and that is why he discouraged me. What he does not realize is art is literally everywhere you look. When my father thinks of art, he thinks of museums…I did not at the time, but I certainly do now.
I create fine art. I create art that has never existed in the history of the world. I believe to this day, that all of these experiences and traumas lead to this style and type of artwork that I create. My art is personal. My art is a mission. My art is a ministry. My art is the only life I have for myself. Art is my life.
I am a “real-life starving” artist, literally. Why? Because of the controversy of every message I attempt to convey. When you confront evil and corruption you will be attacked, this is why people do not fight to expose a corrupt system. My belief is my honesty will be my liberation and will inspire someone else to push themselves beyond their own limitations. Especially in the face of rejection, discrimination, and prejudice.
I will either make history, or I will literally die trying. I started drawing in prison. I was fascinated with the amount of talent that was in prison. In prison, art was something that was in high demand. If you could create art, you could make something for revenue. Drugs, alcohol, food, anything you wanted. Most all of the money was made from tattooing. I never got prison tattoos because I seen them reusing needles and making their own inks.
I fell in love with tattoos when I was just a kid. I would ride my bike to a tattoo shop and watch through the windows. I was amazed. The tattoo artist ended up moving directly behind my grandparents’ house. He was a bike and had big biker parties that horrified my Christian grandparents. I assured them they were harmless, and they would probably be very nice to you. Ends up he was nice to them, and they talked a time or two in the alley.
Of course, if I ever spoke of tattoos to my father at that age, I would get more than shame, I would be disowned. My grandpa must have seen me one day or I mentioned it accidentally about watching the tattoo guy. They said, “Now you stay away from that tattoo shop”, so, I respected my grandparents and quit going up there. My grandparents would take my cassettes of rock music away from me and pray for me.
After I got out of prison I really wanted to go to school for fine art, it seemed more realistic than tattooing, and maybe I could get some type of support or respect by going from an inmate to an artist.
I did not get either, in fact, I got attacked by people in the communities in which I lived. I was treated like a monster in “secret”. Especially entering a university at the age of 25 filled with criminology majors and nurses, you “cannot” imagine what that was like. Everyone knew I was a released inmate, and needless to say, very few people talked to me and I was getting treated like some kind of human government experiment.
When I got out of prison I started doing tattoos for a biker and was attending the university at the same time. For the first time in my life…
I was happy.
I had a life and a purpose.
I was living a “mental lottery”.
I loved to get up early every day to go to campus to compete against all of the rich and privileged.
I began to create artwork that had never been seen anywhere.
I was called into the office at Indians State University and was told no one in the history of the school has ever created artwork such as you have.
This was not a compliment.
I had to be reviewed before I even applied to the university, now they make a statement such as this…
This was a nonofficial statement that I would soon understand.
I did not appreciate that at all.
I achieved a perfect 4.0 in every art class the university offered in my area of artistic discipline.
I never received one scholarship or grant.
I never won a single art show.
I was the only art student working through every vacation and break.
The only difference between me and every other student, I was unwilling to submit to their political order…They discriminated, abused, and attempted to manipulate and use coercion to force submission.
“They did loan me enough money to bury myself alive in financial debt”.
“That one statement” created a lifetime of the most interesting art on the face of the earth. That was the turning point in my artistic career. I dropped out of college and began drawing and painting on my own for several years while I continued doing tattoos.
I now use art for every aspect of my life including the creation of this very website.
I am a filmmaker.
Website designer.
Screenplay writer.
Comic book artist.
Tattoo Artist.
Rapper / Writer / Educator.
Sculptor, painter, and study multiple drawing disciplines.
I design and coordinate some form of art all day, every day.
To this day I will never receive validation for my work from most of the people that are the closest to me. All Christians are not created equally. In fact, honestly, they are the most critical of every aspect of my life.
The reality is this…At the end of their day, as they enter their homes, they could truly care less about my life or what I do with it.
Why should I need validation from anyone who cannot relate to me?
Why would I need validation if I chose my one way in life?
I wouldn’t, and I don’t.
I love my life and what I have become, I am very proud of my life and the 35 years of effort I have put into every aspect of it.
The validation I needed was from the “guy in my mirror”.
That was achieved from not taking advice.
Not getting any emotional support.
Getting constant negativity and attacks.
Death threats and hate mail.
I know one thing for sure…
Jesus Christ is proud of me as I stand firmly alienated from this world as he demanded…
What if I had never listened to myself…
What if I had never followed the guidance of “The Holy Spirt”…
What if I had taken their advice?…
“The only thing worse than failure… Is wondering if you would have made it”.
“Conformity is the Mind-Killer”
“The Freak”