Giclee print on textured fine art paper, unframed
Various sizes available
Jacob Blake. Another man that is maimed by police; forever changed by a moment in time. No more protesting! It’s a revolution. Lives, beliefs and systems are being changed. That which will not bend will be broken. That which does not grow will die. Because we bent and bowed and now we are growing…burning with and from your injustice and our own indignities. We seek to reclaim and create our houses. Being Kings and Queens, upright and righteous, beautiful and noble. Our rise comes from the blood their land has absorbed. Rastafari.
Painting insights. Its construction is comprised of all 8 laps. The blue background is the police and the likes that surround us. The brush is loaded and tapped and stopped the colors down. Shots being fired at a target to create a picture. We in the inner city are created by shots, shots at a bucket end zone. Your girl, my girl, Shots at a hair cut, shots at wide noses and big lips. Shots at the very thing that keeps us alive. We take these things, make a new us other than what our mothers and fathers created. The shots they shoot, the sons and daughters of Almighty white father, form a picture as well. Some see resistance in the dark. Some see the complexity of our beauty, our strength. The ability to endure, figure out ways to thrive where they can't survive. Skin tones says something different to everyone. To reclaim humanity. Beauty. I opted to use everyone’s favorite color. Reds, blues, yellows, greens, purples… I try not to promote brands and labels in my work. They don’t free promote me…Seen?
ABOUT THE ARTIST: DARREN MORRIS
DarRen Morris paints from his memories, his spirituality and his current life inside one of Wisconsin’s maximum-security prisons. He sees the world through pattern and color and light despite being in a place that lacks a full pallet of hues. He has no formal artistic training, so his styles range greatly. He will paint on any surface available, including cardboard. He must paint. It is his way of enduring his life sentence (given at age 17). In prison, he is limited to student grade acrylics and some pastels. He can never stand more than four feet from his work to gain perspective. He paints from his African Jamaican and Rastafarian roots. He often paints semi self-portraits because there are no models for his portraits inside.
When asked why he paints, he responds, “Why do I paint? It is a hard question to answer. It is like, how does a fish breathe in water? I paint because I must. I cannot say when I began my attraction to art because as long as I can remember it has always been a part of me. It goes back so far that I cannot trace it to a particular point. Shapes and colors have always stood out to me. As a kid, I really didn’t talk a lot. I had a hearing impairment that hadn’t been treated yet, but I didn’t know I heard differently. So for me, my experience of the world was always based on mostly what I saw. Colors and shapes just always stood out. I remember the world visually. As a boy, every opportunity I got I would be sketching and drawing, although I did not know then that there were actual Black artists. Art is innate for me; it is deeply ingrained into who I have always been. Now, in prison, it is my survival.”