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.

Her Name Is B

I met her about 4 years ago. She came by the church and I sat and talked to her for a long time hearing her entire story. I even started a blog post way back then, I so fascinated I was gonna tell her story but never did, it still sits in the queue as a draft. Anyhow that night I let her stay on the floor of the gym (I used to live above an open gym). And for a few nights after the first. She just seemed she needed a few nights of shelter before she could get back on her feet and back to her family. It was all good, we called her family and arranged for them to come and pick her up.  Then after 6 months she suddenly reappeared with no real explanation as to why, when her kids, with whom she lived, were all the way in Stockton. This first reunion was nice but it was the beginning of a trend. She would go for months and suddenly show up one day and stay for months with no real place to crash, each time looking less and less like she used to the first time. There was nothing good for her in Oakland. I'd often ask her why she wanted to live this way and said she had to be here to see the doctor and take care of her papers; social security and such. It still never really made sense. One time one of the guys drove her all the way back to Stockton. For a while, we let her stay on the porch by the door, at least we'd be a window yell away which is fortunate because one night she was nearly raped. 

"B, you can't live this way."

It's strange relationship now.. sometimes burdensome - on the heart. She's back in Oakland again. I was crossing the street and I heard the all so familiar..

"Daaaaave, Daaaave, hi, Dave."  Coming from halfway down the block (she has amazing vision), and because it always comes from a distance I have to stand there for a few minutes til she gets to me.

D:"Hey, Betty." Anticipating a request. Bus fare or a ride. 

B: "Hey, Dave how you doing? I came by to see you but you weren't here."

D:"Yeh I'm usually away at work ... did you ever get your ID?" Last time I saw her she lost her ID for the 20th time - literally.

B:"No" Guiltily

D:"So what's up?"

B:"I need an address, could I use your address?"

D:"No, it's a church, you can't. How about your sisters?"

B:"Then I have to wait so long to get my papers."

B:"Dave, I have the papers, see? What this mean? What am I supposed to put here? As she points to a line on the form.

D:"That's the number of people you support."

B:"Oh okay, just one then. Just me. How about this?"

D:"Your monthly income, you know, how much you make in a month."

B:"(Amount of s.s.i. check - not much)_."

B: "I was supposed to get this in in 10 days. Has it been 10 days?" As she points to the date 3/27/12

D: "Yeah, B, it's been almost a month - that's 30 days."

She did need a ride to the social security office, I didn't have time but I did need to eat so we went to KFC she wanted Churchs. 

And I asked her..

D:"B, you're a mystery to me, why do you choose to live this way?"

B:"Because I want my own place, I don't want to be some nagging in-law."

D:"But maybe the time has passed for you to get your own place."

B:"I used to have my own place. Doesn't everybody want their own place?"

B:"Dave, I saw this house if I had the money I would get it." All of sudden filled with excitement.

D:"Oh yeah."

B:"You know what the address is?"

D:"No."

B:"1952 - that's the same year I was born."

D:"Nice."

"Dave, the house looks just like me. You gotta see. I want to show you."

A Show in Oakland - March 2nd

Got my first solo gig coming up on March 2nd.

Friday, March 2, 2012 7:30 - 10pm

Dave Young Kim - Don't Take It Personally

Halmoni Vintage
1601 2nd Ave
Oakland, CA 94606
510-788-0296
http://www.halmoni.net/

"Stepping into Dave Young Kim's studio, you might see him studying an image
– or see him recalling an image or an instantaneous gesture seen prior.
Activity replays as if he's able to mentally scrub through a video timeline,
and the lit nuances are grasped, bringing to mind da Vinci 's definition of
mastery and usage of light and tension. It's as if from a still image Dave
Young Kim is able to intuitively orbit around the object to study the "flat"
image from multiple points of view in synthetic perspective. I am no more
impressed watching him work as I am seeing him study. Dedication drives the
moments, thus momentum results from a series of meaningful encounters,
whether they are imagined or actual. He may speak comfortably, or may be
silent, and whether focused or entirely at ease, David Kim is working...
he's on it... thriving in the creative domain... integrating experience as
if amassing kinetic energy to release as kinetic power in the form of art.
His paintings and works are a rich addition to almost any contemporary
collection.

What matters most as we live out our lives? What drives us and compels us
toward timeless qualities? What inspires us to connect with others? How can
raw gesture compel tears? Spend time with the art of Dave Young Kim and be
uplifted."

- Christian Karl Janssen

Hustle

Arco Station. West Grand. Oakland.
DAVE parks steps out of his car. Pulls out his wallet, takes out his credit card and inserts it in the machine. KEJON SWIFT young black kid, wearing shorts and a red T-shirt approaches him, hand held out for a handshake.

"Good afternoon sir, my name is Kejon Swift."

Anticipating his request, I say over his intro

"Sorry man, I don't have any cash"

As he continues..

"Could I pump your gas for you?"

Kejon walks away saying nothing.

After a moment I realize I do have cash, kept in my car for toll,  which I haven't used since getting my Fastrak pass years ago. But it didn't matter I was in a hurry I didn't want to be bothered.

After thinking for a moment, 'Ruthlessly eradicate all hurry from your life' and knowing it'd take a while to pump all 20 gallons into my tank, I called out

"Hey kid you want to pump my gas for me?"

"What's your name?"

"Kejon, K-E-J-O-N  Swift"

"So you hang out here a lot doing this?" They learn to hustle at a young age. ...... impressively enterprising - I thought.

"Sometimes"

"You go to Franklin Elementary?" looking at his shirt.

"No, I'm in 7th grade!" He laughs, embarrassed.

"Oh, I was just looking at your shirt"

"So what are you trying to buy with the money?"

"A movie"

"Oh yeah"

"I almost have all of it with the dollar you give me, I'll have it all. I'll take it, go down the street and around the corner right over there and get it. Bout $3 bucks." He explains as he points

"What movie is it?"

"Happy Feet Two."

WiFi

My life has changed drastically since going on leave and starting to paint full time. I was doing personal admin work in the studio but soon realized I'd rather separate admin and painting because it gets too distracting and there's something about keeping a space purposeful or sacred. So I now go somewhere most mornings to do stuff on my computer, read, write but I haven't really found a good spot here in Oakland. I did go to Urben Blend a few times but parking's a drag sometimes and the ambience is just alright. Starbucks was cool but on Sunday mornings, super crowded, walked in and right out. Found solace at Colonial Donuts across the street, plenty of space and pretty distraction free but no WiFi, except I did catch Starbucks' network but it only lasted a few minutes. Gave Rooz on Park a shot, but it was also pretty crowded and I have to buy something - I have to do that for all the places, which adds up, I'm not even a coffee drinker - I don't mind. Finally decided the main library with it's newly installed WiFi would be a good spot, which was true except there are few tables with access to an outlet.  Oh and sometimes I go to Carls Jr on Broadway for a quick breakfast, the sunlight's always good, plenty of room, never crowded but unfortunately no WiFi.

So the search continues. .

On my way to the library I saw this girl cross the street in front of me.

Around Town

West Oakland:

Jack London:

Free Style

West Oakland, CA from Aaron De La Cruz on Vimeo.

The 95th at 17 in 2010

17-year-old Castlemont High student slain, sister wounded in shooting outside East Oakland home

By Harry Harris
Oakland Tribune
Posted: 01/01/2011 08:47:11 AM PST
Updated: 01/01/2011 06:22:54 PM PST

OAKLAND -- In what one homicide detective denounced as "one of the most cowardly acts" he has ever investigated, a 17-year-old Castlemont High School student was killed and his older sister wounded Friday night outside their home by a gunman who opened fire moments after they put the woman's 5-month-old daughter into her car seat.

The infant was not hurt, nor were two other female relatives who were present, police said.

"It was a miracle no one else was hit," homicide Sgt. Gus Galindo said Saturday. "We could very easily have had four or five people killed."

Killed was Christopher Jones, who Galindo said was a churchgoing, music-loving, "good kid who never had been in trouble." His family told police he was a senior at Castlemont who got excellent grades.

Police did not release the name of his 24-year-old sister who was wounded in the foot or any of the other family members present.

The shooting happened about 6:30 p.m. New Year's Eve outside the family's home in the 7400 block of Fresno Street not far from Eastmont mall, a half-block from 73rd Avenue.

Galindo said Jones, his sister and the others were going to drive the infant to North Oakand to the her father's home for a visit after stopping for dinner.

They never made it.

Neighbors and loved ones tied balloons with "RIP Chris" and other messages printed on them to the gate outside Jones' home Saturday. Across the street, piles of broken window glass

marked the scene of the shooting.

Galindo said police do not have a motive for the attack and no arrests have been made.

"From what we've learned so far, it appears they were ambushed" just after putting the infant inside the car, he said. "There was no apparent warning and no indication of any argument or fight."

Jones died at 7 p.m. at a hospital. His sister was treated and released.

An angry Galindo said, "This is one of the most pathetic cases I've ever had."

"Anybody who does something like this does not deserve to be a free citizen," Galindo said. "They need to be locked up. What a terrible way to end the year."

The killing was Oakland's 95th homicide of 2010. There were 110 in 2009. The city's first homicide for 2011 would soon follow, when an 18-year-old Bay Point man was shot to death in East Oakland just nine minutes after midnight.

Bus Ride

I met a man one time, he was sleeping on our back porch, I had to wake him and tell him to clean up his feces before leaving. But we talked for a while and he told us his entire story, all of it - starting from his grandparents, then he went into the plight of the poor and the black man, how everywhere you went you can't escape what's out there, you're surrounded by reality. He said many profound things but one thing struck, he talked about riding the bus and how on the bus you encounter the grit of life here in Oakland.

I was on the 1R today riding back from Berkeley to my place. Behind me was a young black man, he got up all of sudden and yelled something through the shut window.

"Did you hear about Ferg?"

He saw an acquaintance outside, waved him down and wanted to tell him.

"About Ferg? Did you hear? They killed him!"

"Ferg! Ferguson!"

Then he pulled down the window.

"They got Ferg this morning!"

The other guy nodded, he already knew.

And that was it, he got off the bus like nothing. Like 'did you hear the A's won today?' It's everyday, common. This is Oakland. It wasn't even shocking to me. I just kept on reading my book.

This morning I saw helicopters flying overhead making circles for a while. Maybe that was Ferg.

A Typical Day...Maybe

 September 16, 2010

Morning:
Had to sit there and have the hard talk, told a homeless lady that after multiple chances it just wasn't working out; she wouldn't be able to stay on our front porch anymore.

Afternoon:
Spent 3 and a half hours talking to Condodyne (pronounced Kun So) Buzado, one of only 4 woman artists in Uganda. We didn't even get to what we initially met to talk about.

Late Afternoon:
Had long overdue art meeting about the future of Regen Art. Drove my friend Steph home and sat on her porch for an hour waiting for our friends who never showed. I walked away having had good conversation and owning a new painting.

Evening:
Went to the studio, finished the sketch for Sarah's tattoo and started 4 new paintings.
 Found out my uncle has 6 months to live.

Joey

My friend Joey left to go live at a Buddhist monastery for the second time. His first Halloween in Oakland was mine also, that's the night we met. He bequeathed to me his entire wardrobe before he left, too bad he's six inches taller than me. Don't know when he'll be back.....for the second time.

I'm feel'n this and it fits as I think of him. Joey would feel this too. Oh and he gave me a grip of music, I haven't even started to scratch the surface.

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.

Gift Giver with a Vengeance

Sux crossed out Gift Giver but he came back with a vengeance and self esteem problems.

Sunset

Desis grandmother passed.

Haiti bound

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s been a while for some of you. Let me know seriously how you are doing. I really want to know and if I knew how to manage my time better and had endless amounts of cash I’d go and hang with all of you.

So a quick update. I’m still up here in Oakland, my third year in the reportedly third most violent city in America. I still work for Regeneration Church, working to help transform community and change the culture that feeds into gangs, drugs, sex trafficking and violence. As a part of that I get to plan and host college and high school groups from as far as Texas who come in see what inner city urban life looks like, with my personal goal being they fall in love as I did and come back to serve here. I'm also involved with the launch of Commuity Rejuvenation Project, a non-profit that aims to beautify Oakland through murals, gardens, cleanup, food, celebration all the while engaging the local communities. I invite all of you to come and visit. It’s honestly not anything like you’ve probably heard, Oakland’s the most beautiful city I’ve ever lived in because there’s such a beauty in people coming together to rebuild the fabric of a broken place. As a part of my job I get to work directly with a lot of these amazing people. It’s so awesome, I really feel fortunate to be where I am but sometimes I feel like I need to get away, so after much thought and prayer I’ve decided that instead of going on a wasteful vacation I’d go to Haiti and serve the needs there. I know I’ll be the one getting served, coming back shifted from the experience but I know that’s something I want to do and bring back to share with all of you.

The details:

May 14-22

I will stay and work in the Kingdom Kids Orphanage/Church in Port Au Prince.

Clean up and work on post quake construction projects.

Support families with rice deliveries.

Serve hot meals in La Saline (a poor neighborhood in Port Au Prince)

Be open and willing to do anything that needs to be done.

And lastly but most importantly spread the love that was unconditionally given to me.

Partner:

Prayers and encouragement, I seriously can’t do this alone, I am self centered and full of pride. And if you want to partner with me financially, the trip will cost me $1400 total, with $700 going towards room and food for the week, transportation, an outing for the orphanage children, food for a feeding outreach in La Saline and building supplies for a construction project we will do out there. The remaining $700 will go towards airfare.

Regeneration
P.O. Box 10045
Oakland, CA 94610
(made out to Regeneration, memo line: Haiti or Dave)

If you have any questions at all about what goes down in Oakland or the trip to Haiti or you just want to catch up feel more than free to get in touch.

http://eastmeetswestteam.blogspot.com/

Thanks,

Dave Y. Kim

Gift Giver

We love this guy!

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.

Dontae Dickson

This is Dontae Dickson, the kid I worked with last year. I love this guy. I requested to work with him again this year. Third grade, eight years old. Has a pit named Cocoa Butter Puff, no lie. And he loves seafood.

Community United Elementary School (CUES), forme

rly known as Lockwood Elementary was one of lowest scoring schools around. It still serves one of Oakland's poorest and most crime-ridden neighborhoods, with nearly all of its students coming from families whose earnings fall below the federal poverty level. We go in each Friday and tutor the kids in literacy. You should come too.

By-the-way, Dontae got through all 3 sets of his sight words today. Sight words are common words that we have memorized so that as we read they are immediately recognized. This is the score card where you get a sticker for every 10 words, notice how the entire section is filled, if you run your hand over it you'd feel the texture from all the stickers. That's the tactile sense of accomplishment.

He's the man.

Speaking of CUES, Oakland has some of the craziest names for its schools, these are all OUSD:

Alliance Academy

Ascend Elementary

Community Day High School

Community United Elementary School

East Oakland Pride High School

Excel High School

Explore College Preparatory Middle School

Far West

Futures Elementary School

Global Family School

International Community Elementary School

Leadership Preparatory High School

Learning Without Limits

Life Academy

Reach Academy

Rise Community School

Think College Now Elementary School

United for Success

Urban Promise Academy

Youth Empowerment School

The message is pretty clear. It makes sense when you remember that Oakland consistently ranks among the top 5 most violent cities in the U.S.

China in Oakland

Symbiotic relationship.

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.