Donald G Wooten April 28 at 12:17pm · 

I started this piece yesterday. I have described my vector practices as therapy in the past but yesterday I realized something profound.

My In-Laws are very religious. By that I mean, they adhere to Christianity in a devout fashion. Whether they know it or not, what binds them to the religion are not the practices but their spirituality. It’s what keeps them disciplined when they aren’t IN the church. It’s why they pray and sing continuously rhroughout the day and some of the night. It’s methodic and sustained. I was listening to the singing while drawing this illustration and cycling through my stages of obsession. That’s when it hit me. This is how I pray. This is how I meditate. This is how I communicate w/ the higher me. It isnt just therapy. It’s my religion.

Agreed I put my tithes in a collection plate w/ an Adobe logo on the bottom, it doesn’t make my attendance at the Church of Blazing Beziers any less faithful. I am a vector zealot. A Knight of Wacom. Pious w/ the pen tool.

The revelation made me feel less…well…maladjusted and more connected to my gift(s)…then ever before in my life. Mind you, I’m old and have been drawing forever. I believe, my mind has been troubled the entire time…so this is a pivotal moment for me.

Sure. $50K would make everything a lot better but The peace of mind to produce solutions is exponentially more valuable if you have the will to do just that. I have restored my will…my faith in me if you will…w/ the revelation that I pray when I draw. What I draw will not send me to hell. Not drawing anymore will set my Hell on Earth ablaze. I see that now.

No. This conclusion guarantees me nothing. What it does is cause me to take my life’s work as serious as I do my relationship w/ the creator. It’s not a hobby. Nor is my life. It is a gift and an obligation. I have a point and a purpose. I am not just an artist. I am a Sun, Brother, Husband, Father, Comrade and a pain in iniquity’s ass. I am also a proficient vector Illustrator that uses Adobe Illustrator at an expert level. This piece is just another example of how faithful I am to my craft which is an extension of my spirit and the signature of the Soul that I am.

I draw a lot of ppl who aren’t on this side of existence any more. I try to preserve them through the best possible image to base a memory off. I did not set out to be this but time and so many ppl leaving have allowed me to settle in this role organically. Despite how I lament about how far the top of my savings are from the bottom of my financial responsibilities, I balance myself on this role that I have assumed. Not sure if it will save my life but I do feel like it extends what I have been given in this life unto other lives.

This is my Man Juggie. Larger than life Eastwick MC. He transitioned last weekend. Suddenly. My Brother called me to let it be known. If he calls me late, I expect this kind of news. I could only say “We’re getting old” before I called around for more specifics. I called my man June. Low spirited, his voice filled me in on it not being a joke or rumor. I told him to send me pictures.

In the midst of my own world gently collapsing around me, I finished a client job and put another on hold to satisfy my obligation to the source of my talent. The same source that provides us all w/ lives through which we learn…and hopefully we get to live. I live through this art as do all of the subjects I draw…back onto this side. So I drew Juggie b/c no one wanted him to leave.

I don’t even want my Stellar Man book back, Cuz. Just build w/ God about that for me and leave the light on.

We vended at The Meat Out on Sunday. It was held at the Metropolitan College of Atlanta. It was the second event we had done w/ the BVSGA. They had raw food demos and lectures running in 3 different locations while about 400 - 600 of the most beautiful, high-spirited ppl I have ever seen circulated the vendors area eating, drinking and shopping. My Wife, Ludy, and I served the ppl as we do, took pics, had builds, ate and drank greatness and gathered some coins for our next relocation (we’re moving in a week or so). Overall and rain aside, it was a lovely day.

After we picked up our seeds from my Brother-in-Law Ed and his Girlfriend Tara (who was gracious enough to babysit while we hustled) in the Avalons, we jetted on back to the Lawrenceville side of things. I felt as great as I could to still have a cold. Anxieties are still present b/c a move is looming but the event is over and shirts got sold. I sat down to process some of the pics Ludy took and tripped across a post on IG. It was an image of a radiant, brown-skinned Sister w/ natural hair, fiery eyes and a smile capable of calming the collapse of heaven or at least belittle an earthquake. It said “Say Her Name” and briefly explained how she had just been assassinated a few days prior. Nah. I can’t really be happy all that long.

I looked the story up. Read several different accounts from different perspectives. The bottom line is, there was something so frightening about Mariella Franco’s message that gunmen had to be commissioned to silence it. Perhaps it is b/c she spoke for the darker segment of Brazilian society that accounts for 2/3 of the homicide victims, or the darker women who are twice as likely to be murdered as their counterparts or b/c she spoke against the rampant police brutality that permeates favela life and conditions the impoverished w/ terror. Maybe it’s b/c she had the audacity to be born a Woman of power and virtue that the PEOPLE could feel and connect through which led them to vote her into an office -deaf to their position- so that she could roar at the lions properly. Maybe they - those cowards w/ power- were shook that if other women were electrified by her example that the threat that THAT united front would present to their political grip would be devastating. So she was killed. 

Fresh from speaking on a Woman’s Panel and not long after bringing attention to an underpublicized shooting that occurred outside of a church, Mariella Franco and Anderson Pedro Gomes (Driver) were both hit when 9 shots ripped through their car. Both died as a result of their injuries. The message lives on through the ppl whom she fought for and -hopefully- will be upheld by those she inspired to live fearlessly through their causes and convictions even at the expense of their own demise.

I did not want to write this. I had to. This is life we are talking about. Life protecting Lives and then being extinguished w/ bullets b/c some lives just don’t matter and those who are living those lives need constant reminding. From the smallest child w/ a toy gun in a park up to the most passionate, articulate Councilwoman who chooses to speak on behalf of Afro-Brazilians and victims of police brutality, some ppl just have to be gunned down…while others watch…so the message is clear. Power concedes to power and thus power will negate threats to its position to avoid conceding. Based on the math throughout history, one must conclude, that unarmed ppl are among the most threatening ppl…on Earth…to ppl…excuse me…suckers w/ guns. It is sucker culture when it is being done to “wild” animals and it is sucker culture when it is being done to humans. Shooting unarmed anything is not an expression of power. It is an abuse of science, engineering and physics as well as an intimate manifestation of a deeper insecurity being harbored by the shooter. Perhaps, they feel orphaned by nature or widowed by time and want to make anyone or anything they encounter feel the same. Maybe they are stuck in a permanent state of adolescence that won’t allow them to share the Earth (or the Universe) w/ anyone or anything else…unless it is subjugated to them. Maybe. Excuse my block vernacular…but fuck them and their guns and their lists. I did this for Mariella and those who are like her. The ones that gave it all up in front of us all so that we could see for ourselves what strength looks like and how fearful spiritual weaklings are of it.

Please, Say her name.

Mariella Franco