No more, no less, just me.

It has been a while since I last thought about what has been meaningful to me. Much has happened in my life in the last few months that has caused me to re-evaluate my thinking and actions as an artist and as a prospective teacher. I have been so busy in my attempts to find approval amongst my peers that I have forgotten to find that same approval within myself. For too long my artistic influences have been in the hands of those who have a vague idea of who I really am. This was due in part to my cowardice as an artist and as a man. I suppressed my identity, my soul, my very existence in order to make others around me feel comfortable. I changed my voice so that others would want to hear me. I changed my appearance so that other would want to see me. I even suppressed my God, so that others could accept me. I have been a foreigner to myself, and in essence an immigrant to those who have loved me. Many of my family members have said that I have become unrecognizable to them. My wife, my love, couldn't believe some of the things that had come out of my mouth. I had made peace with one side, but war with the other.

My God, my wife, my family, even my identity I questioned. In the past two weeks I woke up hating myself. I hated my black skin, because so many people are uncomfortable with the history associated with it. In conversations with many of my peers I have found, that I can not speak of my experience as a black man in fear of being labeled as angry or a racists. As a Christian man, there is no room for me in many conversations. I am a human being, living in a modern world, serving a god; that is my label. I'm in college, surrounded by free thinkers, extensive libraries, instant access to knowledge, and yet I get on my knees everyday, and pray to God. I believe in the spirit of all mankind, and that we have been crafted into the most Holy beings this side of our galaxy. I go to class, I attend seminars, I read up on educational articles, I teach classes to some of the most intelligent children I have ever met, and yet I still put my faith in God. The name Jesus is the blessing in which I will live and die by. I can't forget what He, Jesus, my lord has done for me, my family, my friends, even how through my prayers he has blessed those who have hated me. I love Him with all of my heart, and yet he has given me a wife to give that same heart to. I am working towards a masters degree, and yet my soul is measured by the degrees of my master Jesus and the Word of God.

How can this be? A man that lives in the world, but yet puts his love and trust in things not of this world? Where is my place in this world, amongst my peers, in higher academia, in the working sector, or even within myself? This is the turmoil that I wake to, and the pain that fuels my prayers before I go to sleep. Many days I am hanging on by a thread and the love of God is what lifts me up, and keeps me standing day by day. I had to put my very existence into the hands of God, and in the faith that my struggle is not in vain. I have started to see that in all that I suffer, that my pain is so that my family, my friends, and even my enemies will have someone there to understand what they are going through.

The Lord Jesus teaches us that the greatest thing a friend could give to another friend is their life. Not literally in death, but sacrificing their time, energy, and even peace of mind, so that someone else can be blessed. I believe that this is my purpose and the very reason that I am alive at all. I believe that I can do this through my artwork, and create a visual prayer of sorts that will bless the one that the image is for. My art work is a dedication to those who have lost all trust in the goodness of life. Its a monument to anyone who has ever doubted their self, and thought that they were just not good enough. My artwork is inspired by the concepts of Kehinde Wiley. His work gives power back to those who's power was stolen from them. His images of contemporary Black males in historical poses of royalty infuses them with a power lost, and with one in which they never had. Even though my work isn't composed of strictly black figures, I still have adopted Wiley's concept in my work. Just as my Lord has given back to me all the love, joy, and peace that was stolen from me, I will do the same for my friends and enemies alike through the artwork that I make for them.