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It was 1996 and I was in prison working diligently with my assortment of colored-pencils I purchased online through Dick-Blick. Some of my work was a critique of my life and the immediate world around me. America is a violent country, but I found the violence particularly in the urban areas to be often heartbreaking. I had to manage my very own relationship with violence.

A large number of people I grew up with and around were gone. Either six-feet under or in prison like I was at the time. While I never actually had any regret for my crime, I only wish it didn’t have to come down to what went down. I felt I needed to explore my reasons and the reasons that blanket the landscape of neighborhoods shattered by gun violence.

Not a particularly deep piece that needs any explanation. I used my hands and a small plastic mirror as a model. Holding my own wrist and reflecting on how it looked was an interesting challenge. 

18×24 Colored Pencil on Paper

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