As far back as any sort of art has been produced, there is very often a strong connection that has been forged between said art and the use of drugs. Today there is much dispute as to what constitutes as ‘drugs’ and what lies outside the often debatable definition of the word itself. Several everyday occurences and practices owe their initial fruition to the use of drugs, yet nowadays, due to strict regulations, the use of drugs is seen as taboo and often a crutch in relation to the artistic process.
There was a quote that haunted me since I heard it in high-school. It read, “If everything in life is going good, be assured something bad is around the corner” or something to that effect. It haunted me like a competent bill collector. It riddled all of my highs in life with the dread that just around the corner, there was a dark place to come. Something so scary just around the corner that I couldn’t even imagine or prepare for because life’s a bitch and she is not going to tell you if she decided to slash your tires or break your car window. Is it heart-break? Death? Rejection? Failure? Or a bundle package of all four and then some.
This artist flashlight brings us back to the belly of the map – A.T.L.A.N.T.A. – to shine on the poptastic Greg Mike. New York born and bred, but Tallahassee trained, this artist meshes graphic design, street art, creative, branding, and fashion design to create a style all too collaborative – but inevitably all is unique own.
Jeremy Fish is a modern day Griot. Instead of West Africa, his storytelling stomping grounds are cities across the world where you can almost always find someone wearing a t-shirt he’s designed.
Z serves me a rumrunner and Dietra and I share a club sandwich with fries, using our bev naps for dinner napkins. We ride to Midtown and veg at Tim’s place on 11th, until they depart for a birthday party in Marietta. Then I walk into the night.
We encounter madness on a daily basis, hopeful that clarity will soon emerge. The veil between us and the rest leaves us isolated and our vision, cloudy. It’s a funny thing when we slightly alter our perception and come to the realization that the rest is merely an extension of ourselves.
A writer lives somewhere within his loud and heavy conscience, attempting to filter out his purified thoughts and leave all others inside to reside. And really, there is no better high than the rare occasion of easily doing so. Still, his need to transfer thought and feeling in a most profound manner and overcome perfectionism is, realistically, his job title. And thus presents the ground of which inspired my preceding subject, British-bred artist Alex Daw.
We Want to be Picasso Before Pablo; We Want in the Factory Before Exploring Andy
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