Woken up by banging garbage trucks and banging couples beating their heads along with various other body parts against the headboard filmsly glued to the threadbare walls. Pillows round my head. TV turn up still doesn’t drown out the animal grunting sounds.
Coffee and cigarettes. Tea and toast. Then it’s off to yet another meeting. Yet another convention.
Somebody reminds me that it’s yesterday, today or tomorrow. Or perhaps all three together.
Send them on their way. Send them on their way.
Bubbled. Bagged. Packed and DONE.
Wanderers dispatched inside within Tornadoes, Blizzards, Hurricanes, Earthquakes and Mudslides.
Blitzed with Noise from both within and without.
Journeyman. Journeyman! When will I see the light of day?
Journeyman! Journeyman! Where will I be?
Yet another night in a dingy dirty flea bag motel. Located in still another decrepit long forgotten Fly by night by the hour on the
outskirts greasy spoon dive backwater SROs. Dirty needles and used condoms litter the floors making pathways to dodgy stairwells.
Trains running backwards and upside down.
Residents fixed in place. Darkness of days. Cosmic inversions. Moonless of nights.
Mutilated People have mutilated dreams.
Backhanded compliments seeking FORGIVENESS while repeating their sinful insults over and again. Feigning confused innocence so transparent I see the smirk on your face. Demons wearing Angels Wings.
August 16th after ten years of service I retired from the museum.
I’ve had the privilege to be surrounded by beautiful lovely wonderful art on a daily basis as well as excellent co-workers who are artists. Being around gifted and talented people stimulated me to start creating my own artworks of Mixed Media Collages and eventually acrylic paintings. This gave me the opportunity to participate and exhibit in several exhibitions.
There are many artists in my neighborhood but perhaps they don’t have a place to exhibit and sell their art. I want to change that. Manhattan does not have a monopoly on art galleries.
Brownsville/Bed-Stuy has been classified as working class and of course the neighborhood has it’s share of Homeless Shelters, halfway houses and folks receiving government assistance. Poverty does not have to be an obstacle. If the people here especially the young people have an art center where they can come to create and display their artwork it will not just change the neighborhood but will change their world. Creation gives you a purpose and an element of control over their lives. Here is a clip from the documentary Humble Beauty “Skid Row Artists”
In order to make this happen I’m asking for a donation of $125 or whatever you can afford.
This will help me build my base. My foundation. So that I may be a credit and a help to my neighborhood and expand my program to Queens. My future plans are to extend my program to Ghana where a young Ghanaian woman operates a Center for Children and Adults with Autism.
Art Autism and Activism
I’m especially interested in returning art to adults with Autism because my brother Stephen Palmer has Autism. His training Center AABR located in Jamaica, Queens, NY had to lay off the Art Teacher due to budget cuts. AABR has the space. The classroom is available but no Art Teacher. I want to fix that by giving Adults with developmentally disabilities the opportunity to explore their creative abilities.
Below is an example of some art Stephen has created. Once of his favorite artists and influences is Basquiat. Stephen created the photo picture collage at my house during a home visit. I’m determined that Stephen should and must have art in his life therefore when we spend time together we often got to the Brooklyn Museum as well as other New York City area museums. I keep art supplies in my home so Stephen can create to his hearts content. However Stephen’s friends at AABR may not be fortunate to have family or friends to give them an art opportunity. Therefore I intend to rectify this situation.
My desire is that you will be able to make an investment not just in me but in folks who don’t have a voice to give them a voice through art.
17 No weapon formed against you shall prosper, And every tongue which rises against you in judgment You shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, And their righteousness is from Me,” Says the Lord.
Betwixt Faith and Doubt
Between Heaven and Hell
Who Am I Now?
For Not All Wounds Run Red
Lesions, Cut, Gash Laceration, Tear and Slash ~~ |||| Kin to abandonment and betrayal
Internal abrasions and bruise less seen but more damage done.
Exile first from the Garden then not able to enter the Promised Land
Lighting and Thunder Shooting Out of white fluffy cumulus clouds
These Be the Remaining Elements Shattered in Steel
Composing Fractured Skull Moments
The Keeper Knows
Secluded Mysteries Cloaked in pinprick light night
Zabine Le Noire
Rainey Electronic Moizes
Raynia Strobe Moonlit
The Hurt Behind the Mask ~~ Seasons of Regret and Sorrow
The Hurt Behind the Mask
The Hurt Behind The Mask ~~ Seasons of Regret
The Hurt Behind The Mask ~~ Seasons of Regret and Sorrow
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” 2 Corinthians 4:8, 9 (NIV)