Dreams Within the Context of Capitalism

I used to wanna be a Zoologist. Well that’s what I told myself I’d study when I got outta high school and went to colle… Well, we all know I decided to do intensely mind altering psychedelic drugs and subsequently became an Artist on accident instead. Though I had absolutely ZERO intention on starving, alas, a nigga is still mighty hungry.

This is a gross oversimplification of my journey that I wish to expound on so far as to understanding the sheer improbability and seeming impossibilities of the path I took. The path I’m currently on. A path you may feel mirrors your own in ways.

Initially my educational journey was one that was way significantly beneath my ability. I attended Whistler Elementary, a Chicago Public School, until the 3rd grade. It was extremely under stimulating and I would be bored as shit. It was easy to maintain straight A’s because the curriculum was behind about a year or two based on where other students across the districts were learning at. It’s a Black K-8 school that was and prolly still is severely underfunded. But I digress…

Eventually my nuclear family moved it’s way to the south suburbs because the violence got a little too close to home when bullets came crashing through our window. My uncle and dad was making the spot hot doing dumb shit. That or stray bullets. It felt rather deliberate so I’mma chalk it up to those two. How else do bullets fly through the window of your coach house behind ya grandmas’ two story duplex?

We arrived in South Holland, me, my mother, brother and grannies in tow. This new school was amazing to me. At McKinley they have a gifted program and working computers and all kinds of cool shit that made me think, “Hey, I might have a bright future!” I wasn’t straight A student anymore. There might be a B. But I was happy cause it felt like a challenge to get back up to snuff when I did get one.

Eventually you get out of 8th grade with a C or two cause girls are starting to become more and more important (but I really fell in love in the 6th grade, which is another story for another day). Life starts to really speed up cause everyone is telling you it’s not gonna be a cakewalk anymore going into Highschool. Mfs were not lying.

Thornwood was right up the street and I was eager to come into myself, whoever the fuck that was. I had elected into all the advanced placement courses not because I wanted to beef up my college prospects, but wanted to be with all my smart friends; hard work be damned. The segregation starts to become more evident. You really see the deficits in the quality of education the regular courses have.

Shit would get hectic as I got into my Jr. and Sr. year and eventually I started to think about my future a bit more seriously. I sent out applications and got accepted to a few decent schools. Though none of my top 3 choices wanted me. I felt this was kinda odd as I was an AP student with a 3.2 GPA, 25 ACT, tri-athlete that was in A/V Club. Not only that, but I became a Lifeguard and started working for the Chicago Park District. I got my first car and felt like the world was my oyster. Oh, I was selling weed too. Hustle Man didn’t have shit on me.

Regardless, I couldn’t afford anywhere I wanted to go and wasn’t taking the measly ass $5,000 Pell Grant. I was too exhausted to apply to endless scholarships. Plus I started to become a bit fatigued with the idea of going to school for an indefinite period of time + accumulating debt for a solid career in treating animals. I mean I LOVE animals, don’t get me wrong, but I also finished writing my first script for a feature film Jr. year. I felt I had options.

I decided to just go with the flow. And with the flow I did go. Nothing felt like it was for me, so I sought to forage a totally unique journey unbeknownst to myself at the time. But the main priority was being RICH. I mean filthy fucking rich. All I know is I ain’t wanna be close to broke because I been poor all my life. Just barely getting by was and still is all I know. And back then it drove me to go hard at everything I was doing. So I mean I had to be billionaire rich. At the time I was still under the illusion I could save the world through philanthropy, forgive me.

One morning at work after coming down from a trip the night prior, I saw a water damaged square piece of plywood and next to it a rusty can of paint that was once white, but was now a deep maroon. I took out a glove from my fanny pack, dipped my hand in the paint can and started smearing it on the canvas as I felt it. That’s when I officially became an Artist. I had only considered myself a Screen Writer before. A Screen Writer with Directorial aspirations. I saw my writing as artful, but not so much as to call myself an Artist. I wasn’t even in that frame of mind.

Once I finished that first painting I realized I was born to express myself in any manner I saw fit and that my career path was that of an Artist. That title being Paramount. I felt the need to engross myself into what that meant. I started studying everyone. And I mean everyone. Whatever medium, you name it. If it could be considered Art I paid close attention to the creative processes and output of anyone I felt took this expression shit seriously. Be it a Painter, Musician, Writer, Photographer, etc.

The products of my inspiration came flooding out initially. It was so much pent up inside of me that was never facilitated in school or during any extra circulars outside of the home. I took one Art class and that was in the 6th grade. There were no techniques I was taught (that I retained), no style I preferred. This was purely me. Purely inspired (with the help of drugs).

There was something I learned at a tour of Columbia College that was integral though. I was told my portfolio is gonna be my most important aspect of my work and to have it be not only substantive, but curated and constantly updated. This is I hope is evident.

Eventually I had painted enough to have my first Art Exhibition. It turned out way better than I expected cause I was at the height of my sociability. I was cliqued up and well connected on the once thriving Chicago Art scene.

But then your expectations of reception don’t match with the ensuing reality and you start going harder. You’re not satisfied with your current level of notoriety after what you feel is a monumentus accomplishment. Because that’s what ‘THE WORLD REALIZED’ was.

Between my primary painting Art work I’m providing Art Direction to other Artist. And I was also producing Music that would serve as the initial sonic profile for my current wave. Directing a music video here, putting together a cypher or two there. I was all over the place. Still am in ways. But you gotta move with the tides and the tides are always turning. And shit be happening. Lots of shit. Shit I don’t intend to delve into, but are stating for the fact this shit be happening concurrently to tryna “make it”.

There's this crazy push and pull between how much money you have to take care of yourself and how much money you have to create the things that you want to exist. There's also the issue of time and energy. With all of these compounding factors, the job had to go because it wasn't worth my time or energy even though it provided the money. I didn't have the time or the energy to do what I was put here to do; make art. This has been a continual tug of war across my adult life.

And then come the wake up calls cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself tryna “make it”. And you fall apart cause you ain’t been keeping yourself together. I mean not even periodically was I doing anything that could be considered slowing down. And that’s how you lose your mind. Then finding that bitch is a TASK. Good luck to you if you’re seeking yours currently.

Thankfully, my mind found me. And I found myself at a critical impasse. Change or die. No longer did I have the naïve desire to be a billionaire. I resurfaced some trauma I buried to deal with as appropriately as I could. And finally a self audit on all the collateral damage I’ve done in my personal rugged individualistic pursuit of fame, fortune and power. Women took the brunt. And I’m still working on correcting the deficit of harm. And will continue to beyond my personal failings. Mostly trying to be preventive and positive. Not only in my direct influence, but my Artistic influence. Harm Prevention > Harm Reduction. And the messages we leave in the wake of our lives is important.

Parallel to the saga of my Art career I was determined to create my own tool of creation that would work to help make better Art, and thus the HALO was born. Sometime after that TELEX was born. I finally had a brand and a product for the masses that wouldn’t be as rare and fragile. Having this industrial project run concurrently with my other dreams got off the ground at the time because I had a lot of help from two other Designers. It's much harder now that I'm going it alone. New levels, new devils, right?

I got back on the Painting Horse and created a more minimal body of work that was a refinement of the diverse expanse of work from my first Exhibition. ‘SPACE TIME + ROMANS’ was a ghost town comparatively. I took that shit so hard but understood why it wasn’t as well received. I was not the same game player I once was. I was transitioning into being a lot more serious about my craft and less about the auxiliary.

And at about this time my output started to slow. I was hitting creative walls. The money is drying up too. You got to look for more work, be it freelance writing or odd jobs. In the midst of all of that, you're thinking about how thinly you’re spread trying to make shit pop on any front. Something my homie told me is that a jack of all trades is a master of none. And I've always rejected that. I'm a jack of all trades and a master of some. Now whether I'm recognized is up to you. With more recognition comes more facilitation. With more facilitation comes greater Art. I've been okay with doing the best I can with what I've got, but there are certain things that I won't do because if I can't do them right I will never do them at all.

And then more shit hits the fan, and all of that shit starts to cover you. I had yet another traumatic incident right before the mass trauma we all faced with the world shutting down due to this killer airborne disease. And you see all of that struggle and strife amplified. All your plans change. Lots of dreams deferred. You push where you can. But things really haven't been the same. Sometimes I can't believe I'm still going. But I think that's the important part. That I'm still going.

I used to staunchly reject that I'm living the dream. I'm often told I'm living the dream. In some ways I can agree with it, but in others I feel like I'm living a nightmare. Doing what you love and getting paid for it is living the dream. I don't get paid to do what I love. And I'm reminded of it everyday. Monetization is such a rocket science for what it is that I've decided to do. Be it become a world-renowned Artist or getting this technological corporation off the ground. Doubly so if you're trying to change the way that money works so that more people can have it and no one has none. I will not become the same evil that I detest. There ain't no school for this shit. Let's just say that. ✌🏽