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Black Milk

Its been almost a week since I’ve posted.  A sketch a day eh?  Yea. About that…

This sketch was actually completed a few days ago, I simply haven’t had the time to post it.  Too much gallivanting around the city…but really, is there ever too much?

I’ve been listening to Black Milk lately and reading Jason Tanz’s Other People’s Property.  In “Bounce” from his 2007 album Tronic Black Milk raps, “Even old school artists feel like the game’s fucked, that’s when I clock in as an option when you need a breath of fresh oxygen.”  I find the discussion of authenticity and the “real” pursuits of an art form or movement to be fascinating, especially when authenticity is used as a marketing tool.  For something that was initially an underground culture on the periphery of New York City life, mainly among lower-income urban black and Latino youth,  the present day marketing of authenticity within a movement is evident of the drastic break from its origins.  Is the “game fucked” because unskilled rappers are making it big, whereas many talented artists remain silenced?  That is only part of it, as hip hop was born detached from the middle and upperclass avenues of success.  The tools necessary to impress at something like breaking, for instance, were time, dedication and practice.  Not money.  Now, the multi-billion dollar hip hop industry plays by a lot of the same rules the hip hop artists of the 70s were frustrated by.

Therefore I question, is the “game fucked” simply because of talent?  Black Milk, who recently moved out of his basement studio in Detroit to go where the action is, may think that is what tainted hip hop.  And he may continue to spout those words rolling around in a Hummer limo.  We shall see.   I’m  curious to see  how rappers and producers, like Black Milk, who discuss authenticity in their lyrics and have at least some understanding of how class plays into the uneven successes of talent and talentless artists change the practice of their art and lifestyle, if at all.  Or will he, like others, simply “sell out” at some point and become the subject of future underground hip hop artists’ bashings.

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Kimu Chan

The elder warrior child Kimu Chan has a soft spot for tapioca pudding and death.

I drew this and realized how many Paul elements are present.  Not only because I used Japanese and Paul is Japanese-American.  Also (and here is were the depth comes in) because of my subject matter:  ladies who deliver death.  Paul loves that shit.  That is Paul to a t!  Thank you Paul for your never ending inspiration.  I’m still winning, you bastard.

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Firefly fornication

Is it worth devoting one’s life to researching fireflies’ mating patterns to be able to say puns such as “Nobody knew what happened after the lights went out?” I’ll ponder this for a day and let you know my answer tomorrow. Thank you New York Times for, once again, making me think about something other than porn and beer.

And thank you Dr. Lewis for your inspiration.  Below is the sketch I drew to be the cover of your next book.  I hope you like.

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