My love for Jean-Michel Basquiat started a long time ago and I am not going to even try to explain why I love his art. I am not at all a big fan of people talking about art and explaining the "becauses" and "whys" of painting, and especially with artists like him, whose paintings - to me - must remain enigmatic and I don't need a specialist telling me their interpretation on why he crossed that word or what this guy here on the left represents...
Maybe it is because I am ignorant...
I just wish he would have been a friend of ours. Me and my man we would have had him over, I would have cooked him some super spicy chicken soup and he and Earl would have drank Russian beers with tacos and then maybe we would have talked about art and the siliness of people who dissect his work and intellectualize his painting like they do with jazz.
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| The coolest guy... |
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| ... in my kitchen |
I went to his exhibit in Paris when I was so pregnant and my baby was so low and heavy that I thought I would give birth that day... Throughout the whole exhibit, my baby kept moving and I kept my hand on my belly. I will tell him one day that we went to see Basquiat right before he came into this world, and that this man was a rare artist, a very smart boy, and a super cool guy...
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