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My brother John is perhaps the most naturally gifted artist I’ve ever met in my life. I have seen many artists who are far better then he has ever been, but only after years and years of education and practice. My brother has always been different in that even from a very young age he showed signs of brilliance. Roughly 8 years ago he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. As he struggled with his own mind he seemed to struggle with his art. There are only two things about my brother, aside from his overly nice and caring personality, that still seem to be the same as before his disease came to the surface; his love for skateboarding, and his art. In the prime of the disease the walls of our basement became his canvas. He has always had a draw to urban life, everything from urban, lesser known rap (ie…not 50 cent), to his baggy jeans, to his love for urban art. I’ll never advocate some of the places he took this urban form of art…graffiti. But I will say that at one point he was very good at it. Like the rest of his art, this talent of his seemed to fade.
Among the collage of rather odd and confusing tags on the walls of our basement lies this face. Jumbled in a mass of lines and colors that don’t seem to go together, is this scared, lost face. Somehow I think it was a self portrait.
