Category: The Story

I was reading a ton of books at the time, doing time. I believe I just finished reading Cheikh Anta Diop’s, The African Origin of Civilization: Myth or Reality when I was driven to draw this. It’s loaded for sure. I was charged up with […]

I did this colored-pencil on paper drawing in 1996 while in prison. It is my most memorable piece for sure during my stay. I had just read several American history books and was dissecting the Reagan era and this is what I came up with. […]

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 […]

I wanted to do something simple that represented my puerile propensity, particularly when it came to my creative endeavors. I’m trying to change the nature of such. I’m trying to grow up. It’s the hardest thing for me to do. I am still five years […]

Mug: an entity that embodies the fluid importance of the idea one desires to express. Example: “I was mad a mug when I found out he stole my bike”. I was frustrated like a mug when I did these sketches. I was trying to find […]

It was the 20th anniversary of the The Purple Tape – Only Built 4 Cuban Linx. In my mind, The Purple Tape is greatest set of recordings known to man. I wanted to write that, in all its hyperbole because… well, I could. It honestly rests in […]

I was born breech, July 30th, 1972 at Shadyside Hospital in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I came home to an apartment on (then) Collins Avenue in the East Liberty section of the city. We lived across the hall from Erica’s (my wife) grandmother. Erica’s grandmother was my […]

This is some dummy copy. You’re not really supposed to read this dummy copy, it is just a place holder for people who need some type to visualize what the actual copy might look like if it were real content. If you want to read, I might suggest a good book, perhaps Hemingway or Melville. That’s why they call it, the dummy copy. This, of course, is not the real copy for this entry.

I think I checked out of high school a few months before graduation. Don’t get me wrong, I loved high school experience… the social aspects that is. After the Christmas break moving into 1990, I was ready to move on. I was ready for a […]

I was in a most southern part of Virginia, eight hours from home, in a sleepy prison camp that bordered North Carolina. Exercising my pencil to pass the time. Doing reflective pieces that often swung the lens around on either myself or the culture around […]