Second Hand

I'm sitting there, still groggy, my morning coffee hadn't kicked in yet, and it was early. He approaches me and bends over so that he could look up at my face.

"Good morning"

"Oh hey, good morning" I force a smirk.

"I said, good morning." He emphasizes the 'morning'

"Good Morning." I full on smile. He half laughs and walks away. He always brought the energy, the kind of guy you look forward to seeing everyday.

We set up the scaffolding, pulling out the brushes and paints,  and start on the wall just like we did everyday. It was almost 9.

About an hour and half into full on painting there was a loud noise, almost like a crash, unidentified, in the moment it was hard to process against similar noises in my memory bank. I was preoccupied painting, zoned in my own world when the blare startled me out of it. I first thought the scaffold had fallen or someone fell from it, but I looked over and the scaffolds were all upright.

Then I hear "He shot me!" from the far end.

Almost like an echo another person yells over and over again "He shot him! He shot him!"

I instinctively run over as fast as I could, I was the furthest away, painting on the opposite end of the wall about 150 feet away, but some how I was the first upon him. I look up for a moment and notice a figure walking away, his back towards me, crossing the street, confident strides, no hurry.

I found him on the ground fully aware, talking. But going in and out of consciousness.

"He shot me."

I quickly scan for a wound I don't see anything but as I simultaneously feel under his shirt I feel it in his lower left abdomen - moist and irregular. Quickly I put my hand over it and apply pressure, that's the only thing I can think to do. I reach behind him but I couldn't find an exit wound, there isn't one. I know from watching movies that blood loss is the biggest concern so I try to prevent that.

There was one other guy who was painting further than me and he comes up red faced. Feels like moments later.

"What happened?!!"

"He was shot."

He hands me his phone for some reason. No one's thinking straight. I know instinctively what to do. I dial 9-1-1

"Hi, my friend was shot, we're at 35th St and West, the freeway underpass, send someone right away!!"

"Sorry, could you please repeat that?"

"I said my friend was shot, we need someone here right away!!"

"This is the highway patrol, I'll need to connect you to local law enforcement."

"Ok, whatever! Do it!"

Riiiiing riiiiing riiiiing riiiing

"What the fuck...!!"

In frustration I forceably throw the phone back into the other painter's hands.

I look back towards the ground, he says.

"How come no one is doing anything? Do something!" Angrily

I try to calm him and reassure him.

"We are, we called 9-1-1, the ambulance is coming and I'm here."

Then he seems to be losing consciousness. I thought we were going to lose him right then. I lightly slap his face. He comes back immediately.

"How come no one is doing anything? He shot me."

Then his consciousness wanes. I again slap his face to keep him awake.

"You gotta say with me. You gotta stay awake. Don't go to sleep."

He goes in and out of consciousness, we repeat this game over again.

"How come you're sitting on my stomach?"

"I'm not, it's just my hand, I'm putting pressure on the wound."

It seems like so much time had passed at this point. I don't really recall anyone else. I do remember another painter pacing back and forth in anger, almost yelling "He shot him, he shot him."

And I see someone crying nearby. Another was just standing staring. One was panicking but she was there helping me. There were others but I don't know where they were or what they were doing.

"It's been so long, where the hell is everybody!! Why isn't the ambulance here!? We need to get him to a hospital.

He starts foaming from the mouth.

Some black girls nearby almost taunt us.

"This is West Oakland, no police is gonna come. " In that moment for some reason that felt true. We had to act. We couldn't wait for the police that might not come.

"Let's move him to the back of the truck! We gotta take him to the hospital now!"

So we pick him up, I brace the back of his neck and we carrying him to the back of the truck.
He want's to puke so we turn him to his side. He pukes.

I recheck the wound there's surprisingly no blood. And still no exit wound, which I know means he's a mess inside. The urgency suddenly hits me.

"We gotta take him now!!!"

The same girls try to be helpful...

"There's a hospital like 6 blocks in that direction, it's really close."

"Are you sure!? Where exactly? What's it called?"

The last thing I want to do is to be driving around lost looking for a hospital while he's dying in the back of the truck. I was strangely calm until then, my mind started to race and I couldn't decide what to do. This decision could save or kill a life...

We're all in the truck, ready to go when multiple police cars pull up and almost surround us, blocking the vehicle from moving.

One of us goes up and yells at them, urging them to move so we can go. There's still no ambulance in sight.

"Get the fuck out of the way so we can go!"

It takes them it feels like 10s of minutes until finally the paramedics emerge from the around the corner. Time always slows during times of urgency. It only dawns on me later that they were there the entire time just waiting for the all clear from the police. They approach him and cut off all his clothes, except for his boxers. Then they lift him onto the stretcher and put the clear plastic oxygen mask over his face. The oxygen alone seems like it would save him. There was something about it that gave me some semblance of relief. During the commotion his boxers pulled down a few times, exposing him. He sensed this somehow and seemed to want to try and pull them up but his arms were twitching and folded in unnatural ways. Wrist bent. The way people used to do when they made fun of retarded people. So I went up and covered him with a blanket. He seemed to acknowledge that. I continued walking with him holding his hand and head to the ambulance.

"Can I let go now?" I ask the paramedics as they are about to load him in, as if I was doing something important and needed official relief.

"Yeah, you can let go."

"Can I come with you guys?"

"No, sorry, we can't have anyone inside."

"Ok, they're going to take you now." I said as I looked into his eyes.

That was the last thing I said to him. It didn't occur to me I'd never see him again. No words of comfort or inspiration. Just 'Ok, they're going to take you now" Not that words have power but they do and maybe the right ones would've kept his will going stronger, inspire a fight, provide the tiny bit needed that would mean the difference between life and death. Maybe. I can't even think of what I would've wanted to say - even now.

We got updates, he made it to surgery. The oxygen mask, then the ambulance each seemed like steps towards life. He was going to make it.

I hugged another artist and when I walked away I saw the tiny spot of blood I'd inadvertently left on the back of his shirt. That's when I look down at my palm and see a burgundy, dime sized circle.

I wanted to tell him about the spot on his back but never did.

Monster

 

 Be on the look out, this monster showed up down the block from Lois the Pie Queen in North Oakland a few days ago.

Day in the Mission

Desi and I went to the city to find free paint in preparation for upcoming murals. The Dump was a fail but we did get some from Precita Eyes, a crap color but 5 gals of it and we know a guy who can tint it for us.

Valentine the lover. From Puerto Rico but he's American twice over because P.R. is U.S. territory and when he came over he pledged allegiance to the flag. 75 years old. Fought in the Korean War. Never been kissed behind the ear because it tickles. Lives at 1169 Alabama, the best street in the Mission.


We rolled down one of the alleys to see if we could find any one in action. Low and behold we find Rafael, fresh 6 months from Nicaragua.


Busting this right here.


This one Desi snapped back in the day, little faded but still running.


We also ran into Mel who was just starting a new piece.


The bathroom at Papalote on 24th and Valencia. I didn't get anything but Desis Soyrizo burrito was pretty tasty.


The Mission is dope.

Martin Luther King Cultural Corridor

CRPs latest addition to Oaklands mural collection - free to the public. A welcome into the MLK Arts Corridor on which we have a total of 5 murals. I was away at a staff retreat this weekend so I didn't get to join in on the fun, even though I was itching to but I did get to come in at night and add the clouds. Location: MLK and Grand Ave behind Oil Changers.

MLK Jr.

Dorothy Irene Height (March 24, 1912 – April 20, 2010) Look her up.

Marcus Mosiah Garvey, Jr (17 August 1887 – 10 June 1940) If you don't know - look him up. I did.

Sunset

Desis grandmother passed.

Bama

My boy Desi did this in honor of his grandmother, Bama, who may not be with us much longer. I love this aspect of graffiti - the dedicating of walls to people who may never see the actual piece except in photographic form. She might never make it out to Oakland to see it in person, but it's there for her.
It's creation of an art landmark, a tiny part of the city's landscape altered in celebration of a certain loved individual...there's something poetic about that.

Gung Hay Fat Valentine Presidents Day

I was thinking of going to Cambodia over the summer so I went to the church in the hills where the meeting was supposed to be and after a long unfruitful search through the labyrinth like campus I found out that it was canceled.

So feeling tired I was just going to go to the studio and do a painting of the impenetrable walls of Pyongyang North Korea and the devastation that lies beyond, and something about the curiousity of the children within wondering what lurks outside the city. All based on a NPR broadcast about the education of the elite children in the capital city I was listening to on the way to the church. But then I called my boy because he texted a seemingly distressed message about one of his old murals being buffed.

He wasn't actually tripping, he was working on a piece dedicated to his dad for his birthday at the tracks so I went to join him.

I got there, he was about done, so we walked down the wall as he told me stories about the pieces. Then we walked back, sat on the tracks, examined his piece from the distance and then started throwing rocks trying to hit an empty spray can, all while exchanging about our recent experiences with girls, naturally, given it's Valentines day. The rock throwing becomes incredibly addicting, you hit it once and you want to do it again, then you get frustrated and take a handful of pebbles, shot gun blast them but then all miss and so you vow to hit it once more and quit. It gets competitive for a moment when you're threatened with 2 direct hits before your one and before you know it both of you are standing, trying to get a better vantage. Finally, one bounce hits and it's not completely satisfying but it is good enough and you both decide to stop.

We go and finish off the piece by adding shadows, snap a flick and proceed to try and pop the empties by bashing them with rocks before we go. We don't want to leave even a drop of paint in case some punk kids come by and want to mess up the piece.

The 23rd Tracks in Oakland

The piece done for his dad Jays birthday. Double letters: "Dad" and "Jay"

Trying to pop empty cans


I dont know who this dude is, I think he writes Remex but I like his style..the aquatic theme is clean. I've seen another piece of his, it was a tiger one, i'll try and post a flick later down the line when I get one.

Oakland Mural on Telegraph and 28th

My first mural, actually not my first mural but my first all aerosol and the first I've worked on in Oakland.

Here's the quick version of how I got hooked up with these guys. I got a speeding ticket on my birthday last year and an expired drivers license citation (bc I completely didnt think of the fact that the license expires on your birthday) so I had a date with the judge. He gave me the option of paying the exorbitant fine or opting for community service. I of course took the community service option, I thought of it as an opportunity to check out a part of Oakland I would never otherwise. They gave me a whole list of possibilities, I naturally chose MOCHA (which is a misnomer bc its actually an art center and not a museum) given that I liked art and working with kids. So while working on the project hanging some kids paintings on college ave I met this dude Sam, an intern at MOCHA, he was all late and tired, an iffy first impression. Anyhow over the course of my stint we got pretty cool and then one drunken night he put me in his crew (this apparently isn't the first time hes done this). And I later found out that he touted me as the secret weapon, I don't write, so he had to talk up my drawing ability. Anyhow we started having these crew meetings and other members were showing up initially but after a certain point I was the only one there besides Desi. Now Desi, the guy heading the meetings is also the founder of Community Rejuvenation Project, an non profit organization that works to beautify Oakland through murals (I mean that's what I think the is vision..I'm still not completely sure. I know it sounds good when he so passionately talks about it). So the CRP is one aspect of the then yet to open Oakland Green Youth Arts and Media Center, the building where we'd meet. At some point in the not so distant past the CRP team was tasked with doing the signage and painting the outside of the building in time for the grand opening. Since I was the only one showing up it was defaulted to the two of us to design and start the mural until the calvary would show.

Here are some in progress flicks:


Tase painting the signage:




This is one of the major portraits I did, the one on the left:

This is the other one:


I guess we worked on it for 8 days. I use spray all the time in my paintings but I've never really rendered a full character until this mural. I was literally learning the technique as I went, there's no better way to pick this stuff up.

Here's a time lapse flick put together by Abakus but the footage was all Deb:



Voila!!