The high top fade is back. At first, I thought it was just a fluke. Back in August, I saw a kid on Clay street rocking a Gumby. Then, around Christmas week, I saw a middle school-aged boy with a sharp-as-a-tack 3-inch flattop. Since then, it’s seemed as though the ’90s have exploded in all the Black barbershops of Oakland. Not a week goes by when I don’t see someone–never over the age of 20, it seems–with a haircut that takes me right back to the decade of Bel Biv Devoe and Boyz II Men. I saw the young brother in this drawing a couple days ago, as I was driving down Broadway during the Oakland Tech lunch rush, that time of day when the entire population of the school exits the building and small groups of teens head toward the nearby fast food establishments. He was sporting a uniquely modified fade of loose twists cut into a Gumby slant. When I spotted him, it was still the month of February, and it seems appropriate that I close out Black history month with this reminder of the ways that the history of Black style is kept alive in the personal grooming and style habits of each new generation of African American youth.

8-Rock

I was in San Francisco yesterday, picking up several of my paintings from a downtown art venue. I had to pull into the loading dock and then wait for the curator of the show to come down with my work. As I waited I watched the financial district lunch crowd filling the streets, everyone on their way to get something to eat. The man in this drawing stepped part of the way out of the door of the building across the street from where I was sitting. The hand that you don’t see in this drawing is holding open a large glass door. The man looked up and down at the crowd as if evaluating whether or not it was worth his while to join their ranks for the noontime rush. Apparently it was not. He slipped back inside and did not re-emerge, or at least not for another 15 minutes, after which time the curator emerged with my art piled onto a hand truck. I packed up my work and drove back to the East Bay.

8-Rock

Whenever I’m at the cafe I always spend some time looking at the other people with their laptops. Sometimes I make a little game out of trying to figure who is actually doing paid work, who is doing school work, who is involved in less productive activities (like facebook, World of Warcraft, or Match.com). In addition, I always take note of the people who, despite their work materials and computers, are simply staring off into the distance. Maybe I’m so amused by the daydreamers and cloud gazers because they remind me of myself. Whenever I’m working on a writing project I eventually find myself staring out the window, at nothing in particular. When I catch myself I always wonder what I must have looked like staring at the wall or the clouds or the back of the empty chair at the next table over. I’ve seen this man at the cafe many times. We even chatted briefly in line, during which he explained that he originally moved to the U.S. to attend graduate school at Ohio State University. When I responded that I’d gone to grad school at the University of Michigan he smiled, and our bond as friendly Big-Ten rivals was cemented.

I hope that when I’m procrastinating, I look as placed and relaxed as he does.

8-Rock

Now that this year’s art fair is over, my work schedule is getting back to normal. Normal means joining the army of telecommuters that packs East Bay cafes at the beginning of every day. Today I tried somewhere new, the Urban Blend cafe in Jack London Square. At the time that I arrived, there were only a handful of people inside, all with laptops. The man in this drawing was seated a couple tables away from me. I was into his vintage vest and skinny tie look, but it’s his hair that really caught my attention. His long and lush ‘fro took me back to the early 2000s when I was sporting a similar style. This guy’s hairdo, however, was as stylish and well-coiffed as mine was disheveled. My ‘fro was not unlike the hairstyle Erykah Badu was referring to when she sang, “Pick your afro Daddy, because it’s flat on one side.” Whenver I see a brother with a cool natural ‘do, I think back to the days when I sported an afro, and I feel a pang of longing for the style that might have been.

8-Rock

Another drawing from the past weekend’s art show: The young man in this picture caught my eye for a number of reasons. For one thing, he looked to be about 14 years old, but he had a lot more facial hair than I would usually associate with that age group. His  over-sized suit made him look like he might have been playing dress-up in his father’s closet, but his comportment — like his facial hair — suggested that he was far beyond the age when kids stop playing such games. He wore a very serious expression, and he examined the paintings and prints  at each table with the manner of an experienced collector. When he passed by my table he stopped to examine the cards I’d made based this series. He bought two of them and gestured to his mom to come over. She smiled in my direction, but never quite made it to my area . There were so many great artists and so much great art that not everyone had the time to see everything…which, when it comes to art fairs, is as it should be. If you run out of things to look at, then we haven’t done our job as artists.

8-Rock

One of the best things about attending art fairs and open studios events is how much you learn about the artists who produce the work that you see. It’s one of the advantages that these types of exhibitions have over traditional museum exhibits and gallery shows. I really enjoy the one-on-one conversations with artists, and I always come away with new insights i to how artists think about the work they produce.

Today, though, I had the opportunity to be on the other side of the table, as a participant in the The Art of Living Black Open Studios Weekend at Mills College. I had a lot of great conversations with interesting and thoughtful people, several of whom were artists themselves. Indeed, one of the greatest things about the day was how much I learned about art lovers. I got some great and unexpected insights into who loves art and why. In particular, I had some fascinating discussion about what fans and collectors of Black American art want and expect from today’s artists of African descent.

The man in this picture was a pleasure to speak with. He was very interested in discussing what it meant to make a collection of drawings that focus on African American men. He was both curious about and skeptical of my motives, and though I explained my interest in the subject matter as clearly as I could, he seemed neither convinced of or comfortable with my rationale.

Still, he seemed to like the images I presented. This highlighted for me one of the wonderful contradictions of art — that you can truly love and appreciate a work of art, even if it makes you angry or uncomfortable.

8-Rock

Tucked away near the dressing room of almost every women’s section in nearly every department store in the United States, there’s a comfortable chair or sofa that almost always seems to be occupied by a husband or boyfriend waiting for his female companion to try on some clothing. Some people truly enjoy helping their partners pick out new clothes. This gentleman in this drawing, however, seemed more impatient than engaged. In fact, I noticed him and his female companion because of his body language. His jaw was set, his arms were crossed, and his brow was furrowed in a way that suggested disgruntlement. There were two other men in the seating area near that day, and he was the only one who seemed to be in a bad mood, probably because he was also the only one who hadn’t brought something to read.

8-Rock

This guy has got to be one of the best dressed graduate students I’ve ever seen. We were using side-by-side microfilm readers in the UC Berkeley microfilm lab, when I noted his Oliver Peoples eyeglass frames, perfectly fitting t-shirt, and leather pants. When I was in graduate school, I and several of my colleagues noticed that many of the best dressed Ph.D. students on campus could be found in the art history department. I wouldn’t be surprised if the man sitting next to me was in art history at UCB. If I ever run into him again, I’ll definitely ask about his department. If my hypothesis is correct, I’ll report back, perhaps with another drawing of what is sure to be another great outfit.

8-Rock

The cold weather of the last couple days makes it easy to forget that the Oakland weather was downright summery just a week or so ago. It might be February, but that didn’t stop people of all ages from putting on their favorite summer gear and going outside to play. During this warm spell, it seemed like every basketball court in the city was packed. These were the same courts that were practically empty just a few days before. The player in this drawing stood out for his locks, pulled into a clasp on the back of his head (which isn’t visible in this drawing), and for his height. He was one of the few people at this particular park who was actually tall enough to be in the NBA. Whoever had him on their team was probably going to win that day, at least if he was as good as he was tall.

8-Rock

This drawing is based on a man I saw at a bookstore in Alameda. He was actually sitting on a chair backwards, with his hands dangling over the back of it. I replaced the chair with a image evoking the circular railing around the rotunda in the Wisconsin state legislature. Not surprisingly, the Wisconsin uprising has been on my mind a lot this week. After all, I was raised by two public school teachers, two of my grandparents were public school teachers, and at least one of my great-grandparents was a public school teacher. Not only did the teachers in my family provide a loving and stable home for me; the teachers in my primary and secondary school classrooms changed my life by opening to me a world of critical thinking and intellectual inquiry. At my overwhelmingly white public high school, in particular, I got the kind of rigorous, academically challenging education that Black kids aren’t supposed to be able to get. My teachers believed in me, and I believe in them…and in their right to collective bargaining.

8-Rock