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I have very very very very very few inspirations and I’d like to keep it that way. The wise ones have a lot to teach. Thanks. 
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I was very closed off from showing my work in late 2017-2018, and took a year off of posting content online. Now listen I’m a firm believer in the magic that happens in real time, the real material world, although I can see the benefit of sharing your work online. I was even more closed off with showing my face. So yeah with that groundwork let me tell you about my very first “prestigious” studio visit.
It was the late summer of 2018 I recently started to get settled in to my new space and I was creating everything from wood sculpture to paintings everyday. During this time I wanted to see what all the hype was about so I ventured out to every gallery I saw by walking in Brooklyn and Manhattan by myself. I wore “simple folk” clothes, black shirt, grey sweatpants, off brand shoes. I was severely unimpressed by the art here and I still am. I thought this was the place you go if you’re an Artist and you want to make it big! You want to challenge yourself with all the things happening around you! Honestly the only thing that has inspired me is some of the people I’ve met here,visiting from other places, and a special someone who continues to inspire me. So as I began to fill the void of lack inspiration and lowered expectations in glittering white spaces with alcoholic beverages, red wine in particular, in said gallery spaces. I began to feel a numbness to the art, because that’s what I believed the work was representing on the walls, absolute plutocrat numbness, the wealth from dying old people duct taped to the white walls of the highest honor of our civilization. So I begin to talk to the people there to see what they think. Colours this composition that, oh do you know so-en-so, a lot of art jargon if you ask me. I ran into a curator who asked me, “so what do you do”. Did I have a cape on or was I in tattered robes trying to figure out why am I uninspired? Now I get this question so much what’s the point of even going to gallery shows. People just want to meet interesting people, who LOOK interesting because the art isn’t interesting, it reeks of a seeping rebellious creative fear, and I can smell it all the way from back home. Now in my mind, my hour glass ticks I’m “young”, I want a family of my own, I smell blood in the water and I say simply I’m a painter and you should check out my work in person if you’re really interested, (y’know to cut out all the bullshit). The curator agreed and contacts were exchanged. A couple of weeks go by and I’m focused on my work and haven’t thought twice about it because everyone I’ve made contact with that week seemed to function like a bad date, no matter how straightforward I was about who I was and what I did. So I get a call and I’m available of course because I’m working nonstop between March 2018 and December 2018. I go downstairs to meet the curator, what followed were comments about my unorthodox neighborhood, funny. These art people sware I live in the swamp somewhere eating fried chicken like only a particular specific group of people eat fried chicken, oh how debonaire. I enter the code to the building and we head upstairs to check out some art. Immediately I’m met with admiration, “oh my god” “this is the best work I’ve seen”, the glasses come off and the eyes stare sharply into my artwork. Some adoration continues and five minutes later it’s literally nothing but racial slurs and hate for the next five minutes. I watched this persons’ internal battles wage war right in front of my glossy eyes, with me and my artwork caught in the crossfire. I was incited by this person to harm them for the hatred that took place. I felt no anger I felt pity for this soul, the mask was confronted by something real and a reaction couldn’t be hidden behind a computer screen. This classless savage that’s in control of getting Artist in well-renowned Manhattan galleries is what my art is about, “Apes in Glitter” and I learned just as much from this person, and this experience as I would any other person. I don’t understand why people think the art world is so sophisticated. It’s actually behind in my eyes along with many other creative industries.  I was ready to see who was really for me. I stopped myself as a social experiment on myself to see who’s really with me, without all the extra, without all the whatever you call it. By deleting a hefty following online and social media I saved myself a life time of discernment.. I see who’s/what’s real and who’s/what’s not! I can bring ruthlessness now!
Damn!! I haven’t had this feeling in about 6 years. I can feel it in the air. You know that song?! I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord! That Phil collins jount. I’m overworked, throwing up from eating too fast, sleeping less, got my eyes set on an ultimate woman and got a glance back, the opposition is there hating at their best, and I have all my thoughts aligned focused on what’s really important. No smoke no drink... Well 1 beer rule right that’s it, incense burning, burning through any idea I see. I don’t know why people want to see me down so bad especially the ones trying to copy what I did or done. Inspiration is a rare commodity, it should be honored in all positive forms. Oh well but this is the feeling I had about 6 years ago so I know I’m on top of my game, my hair is growing pretty well, skin clear... Damn I just want to share this feeling. Can’t wait to play 3s at the arcade. I’m ready to set boundaries for those that step to me to cut the bs and cut a check! I feel like I was given a second chance at life and I’m very thankful. I’m very unforgiving this time... My inner peace will not be damaged again by external forces I will assure it. I’m ready to destory anything and anyone who’s hateful and racist...What’s it called, xenophobic? This is what I felt in my youth and I had a lot of misguided energy and emotions at the time and I’m glad I pumped the brakes! I watched from afar, the foundation I built is too solid it’s lasting longer than I exaggerated before. Wow! so many great things will happen when we cut the bullshit and raise our awareness to our emotions!! My life is secondary to my work and legacy 💪🏾🤴🏾👍🏾 No fear! Stay true is what I was told and I will never forget 🖤 No matter how long it takes! Quality first! Therefore the debate is limited! Disclaimer: explicit content. This is about mental, emotional, and sexual health in relationships. If you rather not know I suggest you keep scrolling!! This is embarrassing to share, but whatever I’m more concerned about bringing the right/mutual energy to me to suit my needs. So if you must know... In my past search for the perfect muse. I found myself constantly attracting women who misunderstand my emotional needs. I’m deeply into individualistic women and I feel it comes to a point where we’re just projecting each of our opinions,views, and individualality upon one another to see who caves instead of trying to understand one another’s differences and opposing views. I’ve grown to a point of maturity to realize when I’m doing this and I hope to attract the similar kind of woman now. During my experience in BDSM and DD/lg roleplay, which the role was handed to me at a young age, I fit in to it with grace, maybe I was meant to be a Dom. I discovered it’s not something I search for at all. Since then, my life has been a lot simpler, sometimes, most times lonely but A LOT more peaceful. I watched a video on BDSM with Aleta Cai, it was very insightful, her views of being a healer in a way intrigued me that day I was genuinely inspired by a Dominatrix. It’s almost if I found a colleague in this realm I thought, dishing out pain to fulfill my own emotional needs all the while contributing to the healing/need of another, which I find myself subduing daily in so many ways because it’s such a specific time and place for a full experience. I studied a lot of Marquis de Sade, even watched a few films that eventually made me sick. I never found pleasure in the humiliation part. It would take a very special woman and even I will have the opportunity to see what’s for me and what is not. As I withhold this part of me when I’m with a muse it never turned out good always bad and it’s completely my fault, I should and will never withold what keeps my interested ever again. I hope to repel all the wrong matches for me with this thought and feeling. I look to my straightforwardness to bring forth the right woman to me who can understand this side of me without judgement when I need it as I don’t look to bring emotional pain or trauma but a form of twisted pleasure. I set out with a positive focused intention for my needs to be met to have a stable long term monogamous or polygamous relationship, which is only when the need arrives. Something short-term I have no need to invest myself so honestly I felt and I was wrong I feel a lot of relationships don’t last because of that very thought of honest investment and sought to change this about myself. I’m happy with my decision...  Modern Art(2018) - The political placement of each ethnic group. ©
 As my hair grows back to its original state I feel the intuition and sensitivity I had before start to return again. I was a lot younger when I had my full lion mane, I was wildly attractive, but I don’t think I had a full grasp on what it meant to be sensitive to the enviroment and the emotions around me. I could feel them and ponder on them later... that doesn’t mean I came to an understanding of what I was feeling. I’m proud of myself for doing that though, it helped me grow and mature a lot. I think I didn’t take full consideration of the whole emotional experience surrounding me. I believe I had a solid programming in rational philosophical thought that it became second nature to me at a young age, but growing up I wanted to understand emotions. What makes people tick...It’s been a lot harder for me to understand my intuition and hunches than anything I’ve ever experienced, while being constantly surrounded by the need to think logically. I feel closer to the idea of God though as I grow my understanding of my emotions and sensitivity. My Dad was an Army veteran that went to Desert storm I never understood his emotions and rigid thinking until my early teens when I needed a routine to build muscle and to set guidelines to produce results. I still have this preprogramming engrained from my early teens that I feel I’m breaking way from(again) and this time for good...I will become the greatest artist I ever saw at the cost of my material security if need be, because I believe understaning my emotions is that important. There’s a new edge I want to experience and I want to go there...  Before moving to New York I always dreamt of making it big, my childhood dream of being a painter/sculptor, I’ve always been an artist and I never stopped. I would make clay sculptures for my mom at the age of 6 in art school and she would keep them by the sink I loved the irregularities of my work. By 13 painting was becoming a rich sport and I couldn’t keep up.
I would think of this at the age of 24 while walking eight to twenty-two little to big stinking dogs. The smell of one of those canines letting loose and dificating in front of me in the indoor playpen kept me from dreaming those dreams. One day I walked into work and was told I didn’t give Sam any water, which I knew was a lie because I loved Sam. I told the manager “you’re a lier” and I was “terminated” that same day. On my way walking home from work a blue charger pulls up next to me with tinted windows that roll down slightly. I can faintly see two people in the car, the driver leans over to ask me ”Hey you got some of that, y’know?“ why you ask, I replied. “Oh I see you have a staff shirt on, and thought maybe you worked at the strip club”, what a wild peculiar assessment I thought; Well I did just lose my job on false pretenses and I have rent due so what do I have to lose “Yeah I’ll be back hold on”. I ran upstairs in this old duplex where I was staying in a fairly old but posh neighborhood in Charlotte, Dilworth area thanks to my music career. I get in the car and I started getting asked all these questions about Jesus. I knew what the driver meant but It was getting too distracting and the passenger kept flirting with me I just wanted a smooth transaction to pay rent. I go down this route for a couple months until I become too paranoid about losing my way, my dream of being a painter, to continue that life. It felt like that dog job ”Man if I’m going to put up with mental and emotional abuse from shady business practices I should just follow my childhood dream!!” I said to myself. A few paintings sold later and I’m finally moving away from home with no job and five thousand dollars I saved on the merit of my own artistic work and it felt really great, although it was highly unstable and inconsistent pay I had a devil may care attitude at this point. So I arrive in New York via Megabus in cold rain with an overstuffed black rolling luggage bag full of my clothes, folded up canvases of my paintings and two pairs of shoes. I had a wooden suit case filled with all my supplies and wow was this the coldest spring I ever felt. I finally get to the place I began calling the tentant, no answer, then I get a call back. The landlord sold my room we agreed on the day I was moving into it!! I was so enraged I was filled with so much anger I had such a visceral hole in my chest I yelled whatever I wanted in the street and kicked trash towards pigeons and rodents. No one gave a shit about me so I no longer did neither. The only thing that calmed me down was saying “You’ve been here before” repeatively to myself in the middle of the streets of West village. So I go from Airbnb to Airbnb wasting money until I landed a place in Brooklyn. Went out to Brooklyn at about 9am to meet, with the lowest expectations for my own well being. I looked around and said to myself “I could create some crazy shit in here”. So I Immediately made moves to get out of the Airbnb friendzone and moved in. Getting settled was tough though the first thing I did was unpack all my artwork to carefully check for damages, it felt like I was holding ancient papyrus, and I nailed them to the walls with Coltrane blaring in the background “yeah New York, I’m here now”. My room was a solid 30 degrees Fahrenheit with no heater or sheets on my bed. So I just slept with all my clothes or went out to bars to see If I was lucky enough to go back to a lovely ladies place with a space heater. So yeah buy my book/ watch my film if you would like hear/see more. True story love, David Straange |
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