A word from the artist

Rasta

Come forward with peace and love. I respectfully ask that after you have viewed these drawings and paintings that you contact the artist, with questions, comments, suggestions for future paintings or tips to improve as a painter. If you see a painting and you are moved one way or another, please share those words and emotions with me. If you are not interested in a correspondence you may write to me without giving your last name and without a return address however any snail mail received will be regarded as private and kept in confidence. If you work for another organization and want to get something specific done for free, feel free to contact me

Darren Morris #236425; PO Box 900; Portage, Wi 53901


Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Darren Morris, paintings and explanations

#1
This a is a self portrait painted with Acrylics on Bristol paper... As a young man (younger), I was very much concerned how I looked to myself and others. Before I allowed my high tension wires to burst forward, I could not see the beauty thick, natty cables sprouting out. I was coming from a place of darkness. Physically, mentally, socially, & spiritually. I was searching for a new path, and when Jah touched my heart and called me Rastafari, I ran to him. I struggled with my identity for awhile, I could not see the beauty in which Jah had worked on me and in me. I was put in the hole at Waupun Corr. Inst., and learned that Jah can reach anyone at anytime, and in many ways. For me, Jah sent Peggy. I was in a place that was crushing me, I needed someone to stand up and speak for me, to say what I could not say. Some years before, I had read a book by Anais Nin called Collages, and in the book it was talking about how isolation is like Spanish moss, it suffocates the tree it hangs on. I was suffocating... I was losing my breath! At another part, she said that a person can reach a state of such depression that words can no longer serve them, and there's nothing to be said, so they bark. That was a power filled statement. Emerging from that darkness to enter another, I had just begun to let my hair grow, and this did not fit my mental image. It did not reflect who I was. One day medita¬ting on something Peggy said to me, (Somethings must be private), I realized that I was looking at this new stage of life with eyes & perspective of the former. So I sat down and wrote out what was the new perspective, what concepts were involved & evolving. Partaking in a special reasoning session with I & I chalice, I painted the self portrait, seeing I natty beauty for the first time. From out of the darkness came light. One Love, One Breed,
AboveAbove Is a photograph of me & my son, Daren I & II...
When I was about 13 or 14, a situation arose that called for medical treat­ment. When I had a chance I asked the doctor if I'd be able to have kids. He said, most likely not! While playing football, the cup I was wearing was defective. I got hit and a piece of the plastic -was impaled in a place Jah did not design for pain. A few years later, this girl I was dating told me she was pregnant. At the time, she was 19 and had a handsome little boy, who at times, I spent time with. Just me & him, trips to the park, the mall, or family gatherings where he could play with my little cousins about his age. I wanted a son, but never thought I could have one. When she told me this I became angry, I was sure, (almost sure), she had cheated on me.
I said one of the worst things I could have said. I asked, How do you know it's mine? I want a Blood Test! At the time, I was 17 and really didn't under­stand how bad I had hurt her with that. I had never told her of my accident.
Within a few weeks, I was in the Brown County Jail, (November 10, 1994). She brought my son to see me, it was at that moment I realized just how bad my situ­ation was, and just how many people were affected. I'm looking at this beautiful, healthy, baby boy. My son, all working parts. They had him all wrapped and bundled up. After peeling back all those layers of blankets, I looked & seen these long socks, as if they had slipped off. I seen his foot, and knew at that moment, this is my son. I wear a size 15 shoe, and have always been teased about how long my feet were, at least while I was a kid. Feet that long, he had to be my son.
For the first 5 years of his life, I seen him 3 times a week. When he first started, walking, his Mother brought him to see me, and he would take off running, arms stretched out, yelling Daddy. There's nothing better than that. Unfortunately, I do not get to see him like that anymore. I'm lucky if I see him once a year now. He's too busy to write, and I'm lucky if I catch him once a month over the telephone. When I begin making my bid for Justice, I had to ask myself, what do I want him to learn from me? Thinking that if I ever were blessed to some day be freed, and to be with him; I wanted to be someone that could be a source of good fruits. I had to change who I was and how I seen myself and how I viewed the world, and in here that's not easy. You'd think that the Correctional Officers would encourage positive change, & personal growth, hence "Correctional i.e. Rehabilitation". I misunderstood, they do not represent that form of correction.
They are correction rods, a source of pain & punishment, and when I began trying to change, this only attracted the attention of my over-seers. I endured, I stayed the course, because I want my son to know, no matter the outcome, or which obstacles I faced, I did not give up. It would be much easier in so many ways to live out the saying, when in Rome... I have this dream, that one day I will walk free from this place, and I'll be able to see and hear that same joy in my son's eyes & voice, as I did when he was a kid. To give my son a hug outside of prison, away from the unblinking eye in the sky, to have him proudly introduce me as his Father. The man that overcame the odds. I walk my path in hopes it leads to that reality coming true. I seek ways to improve his life and the lives of others. Unfortunately, many of us need help doing this. Growing kids need things, overworked, down-pressed, stressed out, unappreciated Mothers need help. Eventually, I'd like to see it come to pass, that we'll be able to use donations and other resources to help out, to lift some of that burden...



#2
Number two , above, Is a 9x12 on canvas paper. If I remember correctly, (Acrylic). It's not an artist original, I was so moved, by the concept, I had to do my own version...Among Rastas, we often exercise the concept of I & I, which carries the power filled reality of I AM never alone, for I stand in Jah love. Jah stand with me. Who can defeat me when I stand along side the almighty? In the Bible, in the book of Exodus, I & I, (Jah's chosen people), were brought out of bondage, protected and kept strong by the mighty right arm of Jah. In the book of Revela¬tion, we learn that the Church is the bride and is to be married to the Jah Jah, Rasta. Jah tell us to move, we move, without concerning ourselves with how will we step off this cliff and survive. Rasta over stand Jah will not allow his people to be destroyed (utterly). I&I also mean at all times. All Rastas around the world. The I-ya man, the I-natty dread Rasta, the ceptic dread men, the bald head Rasta, Rasta in every form, shape, color, dark & light, over-standing. Are pushing, striving, to face I & I from down pression, to free them who can not free him & herself.
There is only one aim, one destiny for Rasta Man; therefor, I am never alone. At times I need to remind myself of that. As I sit in the Viper pit, and I see them bald head, locks, & dreads all around me, but I don't see I self, I struggle, I love being reflected in them. I push and push, nothing seems to move. He which send the fiery darts of doubt & isolation, in short I solation, I need to believe that even when I can't see I & I, I & I is there. Today, Man sees all his hopes and aspirations crumble before him. He is perplexed and knows not whether he is drifting. But he must realize that the solution to his present difficulties and guidance for his future action is the Bible. Unless he accept with clear conscience the Bible and it's great message, he cannot hope for salva¬tion. For myself, I glory in the Bible. No matter how you view the Bible, whether it is literally the word of Jah, (truth) for you or just a book of collected stories, One can read it & grow positively from it's message. As the Bible put simply is: Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth...




#3
Number three is a 3x5, (by my best guesstamation) card on bristol paper, acrylic paint...
This image was me experiencing peace. I never really liked the cold, but I could appreciate the snow. It was funny, I had an all white pit bull my Father gave me. She use to chase snow flakes in our back yard. There was this large tree that seem to come alive when the leaves fell off. The setting is a little different, it felt more in line with how I felt. Nature was a safe place, but where we stayed, nature was a fleeting concept. My Great Grandfather was a gardener for fun £ food, and the few conversations we had, were usually about something related to nature. In this place were nothing is natural and rarely peaceful, the walls hold, the spirit of anger £ depression...








Monday, January 10, 2011

Two letters tell story

Janis Mueller
Legislative Audit Bureau
22 E. Mifflin Suite 500,
Madison, WI 53703

Re.: Mental Illness Testimony

Date: October 28, 2008

Darren Morris (#236425)
Columbia Correctional Institution
P.O. Box 900,
Portage, WI 53901

Peace and Love

Ms Mueller,

Recently Peggy Swan has informed that you are conducting some sort of audit on the Mental Health treatment of inmates, I will share with you my experiences and hopefully it will help you to help us, and help people like Peg. I truly believe that Peg saved my life, had she not gotten involved and let the prison know that someone was watching they would have killed me, because I was in a place in my mind that I would act without regard for my own well being or fore thought what they would do to me.

I am not sure what all you need to know so I will give you a short history of how I got here. My mental health problems seem to have plagued me from the beginning. When I was about 3, I was playing with my father´s pistol, and when my mother seen me, she went to take the gun from me; as she snatched it, it went off, hitting my mother. From that point on I was not very well liked among family members. My mother lived, and gave the story to the officials that when she set the gun down on the dresser, it went off accidentally, this was to keep the State from taking her children. My brothers and others would often do things to me to punish me. I will not go into specifics, most of it was physical, and restraints (home made), different types of isolation, there was some sexual from both older males and females.
I accepted what ever they did without complaint, I felt that I deserved it for shooting my mother.

Until I was about 11, one of my mother´s boyfriends done something to me that was a wake up call, I do not remember how I understood it but I knew that if I did not do something, they were going to kill me in that house. I began to retaliate whenever and however I could. This sudden violence shocked many people that were not in the home and did not know the situation, because I was a very silent person, I read a lot and tried as best as I could to not be seen or heard. This change in them, or rather in me, brought a change in that they became even more violent, if that was possible.

I went through a very long depression by the time I was thirteen, I was hearing voices and it would be like I would see somebody on the side of me out of the corner of my eye, but when I would look, they would be gone. I would be fine for a while, and things would just change, I did not understand what was going on and what was happening to me. I was sent to a special school after seeing the school shrink who sent me to another doctor, who diagnosed me with Schizophrenia, and they put me on medication

In 1993 I was released from boys school (Lincoln Hills), they sent me to a group home before sending me home. When my medication ran out I stopped taking it. I never told my mother. She noticed that I began to change and thought that I was on drugs. She felt that “we” were in need of a fresh start. She moved me to Green Bay, where a family friend had moved to and told her that they had more resources to help me up there than they did in the inner city.

Within a few months, I was convinced that people were trying to kill me, I even lost weight because I was certain that my mother was poisoning my food, so I would only eat can goods, but I went through great lengths to ensure that I picked my own cans from the store. My weight went from about 220 to about 185, maybe 190 pounds, I worked out and ate a lot of beans, I had to be ready for when they came.

I eventually hit a breaking point. First I tore up my mother´s apartment, trying to figure out where these voices were coming from. I was taken to Brown County Mental Health Center, I was there for a day or so and they let me go, I was convinced that I had been drugged, so I told them that I was drugged and that is what they went with.

Two weeks later I felt I was being followed in school and the voices were telling me that they were going to kill me, I kept trying to get away. I got trapped in a hallway that had only one way out and these two guys that I thought were about to get me had just entered the hallway. I didn’t know who they were, but I knew what they came to do and I started to fight for my life, several teachers attempted to restrain me, I hate to be grabbed! They were unable to restrain me. They let me leave rather than attempt to try and fight with me. I was picked up by the police, I fought with them, with additional officers; they were able to restrain me.

I was taken to the hospital, which referred me to the psych. hospital. They took a urine sample, because they were sure I had to be on drugs I was not. They told my mother I was dangerous, something needed to be done. My mother asked me how I felt, I said I was fine as long as she did not let them tie me down again. The first night I was in there they strapped me down to a bed and left me in there alone. I told my mother that, she refused to sign the commitment papers.

I was taken to court and they sought to get an order from the court, but because I was 17, the judge did not want to place me in an institution without trying everything else first. I was released on a 90 day consent settlement. I was put on medication called Haldol. I was sent to counselling. I got better.

By 1994 I was so good that I thought I was cured and I stopped taking the medication. March 22 I had fallen back into the same pattern, but I had not peaked yet, I was at an apartment with my then girlfriend and either because it was true or these people thought it was funny to mess with the crazy guy, the people in this apartment started talking about gang members with guns outside wanting to kill us, people were running this way and that way, screaming, they would go to the window and say stuff like there they go and run away from the window. I use to be in a gang and many of my childhood friends in the Kenosha and Northern Illinois area were shot and stabbed by members of a gang called Latin Kings and these were the same people they said were outside. This went on for 1 maybe 3 hours, I was convinced I could not get out.

Eventually, I was backed into such a place mentally that I began to hear stuff, and I became fearful that it was true that they were going to kill me. I could not stay in that apartment any more, I had to get out, armed with a knife I went out. There was a man in a red truck. This man lost his life there in some dispute about what actually happened. Witnesses told police that I stabbed the victim 3 times. The next day I was arrested and I could not remember stabbing the victim. I remembered going outside with the knife and then waking up.

Over the next few months I began remembering things, each memory about that night, and each one was as real as any memory I ever had, if not more real. The county jail had me see a psych. doctor and put me back on medication (Haldol). My attorney was told about this, I pled a special plea, of Not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect. The Judge signed an order to have me evaluated for mental responsibility, but they never did the evaluation.

The day of trial my attorney told the court that he had written a letter and I signed it wanting to withdraw the plea. The court asked me one question, if that was true, to which I said yeah.
I was convicted and I was sent to prison. In Dodge they put me back on medication. I had stopped taking it before trial, because I could not think on it. I went into a long depression. I was sent to Green Bay Correctional. I was okay for a while, then I was sent to Waupun Correctional Institution and they had a very different way of doing things. I was placed in segregation.

They locked me in this room, and before long I had attempted suicide, I could not take it anymore, and the only way to escape that I know was to hang myself, but fortunately for me, I did not brake my neck or crush anything, I was choked unconscious. But that was only the beginning. I would fight with them, they would fight back, they would gas me, and as punishment, they would leave the stuff on burning, and they would tell me to remember that feeling. But sometimes they would attack me when I had not done anything.

Once I was placed in observation, after I told the psych doctor that I was hearing voices. They took all my clothes and placed me in a cell with big windows and a camera, naked, I did not have a blanket or a mattress. They gave me this rubber mat that looks like the mat that they put on the back of them trucks to keep from scratching it up. I was up for 2 days. It is extremely cold in there even in the summer time, which is not normal. I had fallen asleep finally, when the psych doctor came to see me. I told him to go away, I did not want to talk to him anymore, I refused to talk with him, so they gassed me, they then shocked me with a taser, they came in with the gorilla suits on, they beat me up and then tied me down to a bed, and every few hours, the nurse would ask if I had to go, and when I did have to go, the nurse would come in while 2 blue shirts and a white shirt stood watch, the nurse would take my penis and place it into this thing that looked like a big clear plastic coffee mug, or if I needed a bed pan, they would leave me strapped to that bed and just slide it under me without letting me up to clean myself, or give me the privacy to go.

This would be a revolving cycle, at times I would be blessed to get out of seg, but it would
not last long. I would be written up for some sort of rule violation, some times it was legit, I had done something wrong, and sometimes, the officers would bet on a pool on how long a “Seg. rat”, which is a name they use to call inmates that spend a lot of time in the hole. The pool would be based on how long it would take before they could make me snap or act out. In population there is no one to talk with who can help you through the rough times. Every 3 months I would be seen by a head shrink to see how I was, but he would have 4 or 5 guys scheduled for one hour, and he would push you back out of the door as quick as you came in.

There were times, I wanted to learn what was wrong with (me) and have some one to talk with and help me do that. I eventually learned from some very special people and funny enough I met them all about the time, Peg, a lady named Jamyi Witch, who was a chaplain at Waupun Correctional, and George Kammer, a crisis intervention worker at Waupun. These people really cared for me, and no matter how long it took in some cases that meant hours, they would talk with me, explain things to me, and the helped me reconnect with something that was lost. These type of people are not well liked in here. The guards make life very hard for them, and the women who want to help and actually care, usually get accused of having some kind of inappropriate relationship with one or so inmates.

Peg helped me reconnect with painting and drawing, as a way to distract and soothe. No one had ever taken time to explain simple things like that. Those seg units are not right. I understand that if I do something wrong, I should be held to answer for that.

The place usually smells of urine, and I do not mean the gas station bathroom kind, this is the kind that when I first smelled it, I got sick, partly because it is usually fused with other smells, body odor from guys that have not washed in a while, and at times fecal matter. There is an endless attack of noise, banging and yelling, but if I take out my hearing aides to escape the noise, then I do not get fed. There are no real programs to deal with the needs of the mentally ill, the staff do not know how to deal with us and often times they do things to intentionally make it worse and sometimes it seems unintentional.

They cannot make an accurate diagnosis of what is really wrong, because they see so many people they just give you pills and send you on your way, and they will change that diagnosis to suit their needs. I had been in a single cell for nearly 14 years. When I got here as a way to get even with me and punish me, they took my single cell status and doubled me up.

I have a very real fear about contact with an adult male, if I think he is peeking at me, with any hint of funny ideals, I can not handle that. But I have to remind myself to think first. I was fortunate, I was blessed to meet people that helped me brake the cycle. I have been stable for about 3 years on medication. It helps when there is a real check and balance, when Peg let them know that someone was watching out for me and willing to go to bat for me, it made them back off me long enough for others who want to help, to help.

I have many medical records and will do whatever I need to do, to help you help us. Most of the time I am fine, from time to time I need a little extra help, as I have gotten older, I am now being treated for Bi-Polar, manic-depressive type.

Be at Peace, Be Blessed




This is Darren's letter to WI legislative Auditors investigating Mental Health treatment in WI prisons.

August 25th 2006

Darren Morris #236425
Waupun Correctional Institution
Post Office Box 351
Waupun, Wisconsin, 53963


My name is Darren Morris, and I am an inmate here in Waupun Correctional Institution, where I am currently being held in a Segregation Cell. At the age of 17, I began to have "more"severe psychotic episodes, in which I had to be hospitalized for more than once. I was put on the medication called Haldol. I would hallucinations and delusional thinking that would lead to violent acts. I was arrested for PTAC of first-degree intentional homicide, and once in prison I continued to have these psychotic episodes. I would go through periods with no episodes, and then it was like someone snatched the rug from under me. I had numerous disciplinary actions taken against me, more so since being in Waupun Correctional. I have been shocked with some kind of electrical device It was around 1999 some time. I'm sorry my memory can't come with exact dates.. I thought I was in danger, that my medication had been switched and laced with poison, so I stopped taking them. Soon I had a psychotic break and I was put into segregation, though I cannot remember the charge and my delusions continued. They put me into the "Naked Man Cell", (observation). they chained me to the cell door, cut my clothes off, they put me in the cell naked. I don't remember much, though I do remember I was cold and crying. I was given two squares of tissue to clean myself with after using the toilet. I could not sleep because I was naked, it was cold and there was no mattress. Instead of a mattress there was a hard rubber mat, and the lack of sleep only made things worse. I started to pound on the door, at which I was given a direct order to stop, and I did not. In turn they gassed me and came in with these black suits and helmets, and when they attacked me I fought back. I was choked until I blacked out. When I woke up I was handcuffed to a concrete slab by both wrists and my feet. I began banging my head on this slab. They came in and put a strap on me to hold my head down. About a day later i was let out of restraints, I was still naked, I began pounding on the door, and told them if they gave me a blanket I'd stop. They gassed me again, they came in with the suits on and when they had me pinned down to the floor some electroshocked me. i went to Wisconsin resource Center- twice. I had many situations where my illness caused me to get a ticket and put in the hole. I'm also hard of hearing, I'm supposed to have a hearing and for both ears. I came here from the outside with two- they lost them, and claimed not to be responsible. They gave me only one hearing aid and told me to make due as best I could with that. i got two tickets once for sleeping during count, I never heard the buzzer and they put me ion the hole for, I think, 90 days that time. Now I am stable on my medication and had been doing okay, but I got a ticket again for disobeying an order. They gave me 60 days in the hole. Since I been here I tell them I can't hear the buzzer for meals or medication or other things. Here, when the tone sounds you must stand at your cell door to get that meal, medication, showers or whatever if you are not at that door, I don't get to eat or my medication for the schizo effective bipolar type. I keep telling them, I can't hear the buzzer, They have 2, one in the hall, which is the one I can't hear. Then there is one in the cell which they use sometimes- that one I can hear just fine. They should not be able to pass me for meds and especially medication- if I can't hear the sound then I can't react to it. I have about a 7th or 8th grade reading level and I'm trying to figure out the law because I'm knowing what they do is wrong. I want to teach them that it is not okay to let a person go hungry, and to discriminate against people. I want to change the rules and the way they do things here(..her he asks for help) .. They never ask how to help me, they leave the lights on all the time, my brain don't get a chance to rest, the people argue, and pound all day long and the COs pick on them when they get quiet to make them argue again. Every time I hear keys I get worried they coming with them suits again and shock me and cuff me up or gas me up. I tell them I hear voices and they give me no counseling or help with my issues, and I try to tell me self it's in my head, nothing to fear, but when I hear them keys I get ready to fight cause I think they coming to get me.
If you cannot help. will you please find someone who can. Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely, Darren

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Friday, October 8, 2010

new picts

Title “She tried..5 Shots”

16”X26” completed -6-23-10

This painting is a mixture of hurt, disappointment and even anger. 5 incidents that just so happened to materialize at that time. In ignorance the emotions for all were transferred to one woman. This particular woman had been flirting with me and I with her. I explicitly stated my intentions to explore this fantasy and see what happens. She agreed. I began to absorb her and pour myself into her and then one day without warning she said “ I didn’t know that you were interested in me that way.” I did not accept that as truth in my head. My mouth said it was fine and I wished her well I took the rejection and transferred it into my work. I’d seen an image like this years ago. I’m not sure what it was for or where I seen it. I kept it in the back of my mind until this day.

My main emotion was about the well being of my son. He has been having issues with his mother and I try to be a voice of reason . When he tells me about what happened I ask him if there was another way to deal with the other situation. He says “But Dad I didn’t do anything wrong.” I understand and it hurts me that I’m here and can’t take him for a drive and park somewhere and talk him through this situation, allowing him to find a way to deal. I tell him that at times the so called Correctional Officers here will come in and they will say and do things to stir up emotions. This chaos is what they know, peace threatens to expose them..So when I have this 5’1”, 80 lb. person standing there talking stupid, the lion in me says attack and destroy. But I recognize that I am not just above this person in height and size, so I pull back that anger, flash a bright smile, throw up the peace sign and say may JAH reward you according to you actions and with the coolest strut I can muster, I Stroll off. My son gets my point, that even though he is right, when you have a person abusing their power, being right is not something they care about. So to feed into the situation will make it worse for you, stop when it can be helped, when you can give yourself a chance to think, take it, allow the destroyers to destroy themselves.

His mother has moved to Alabama, I never got to see him as it is. Now I’ll never see him. Knowing how she is and the energy she generates and responds to. I fear for my son. She liked me because at the time she knew me I was reckless, wild and ruthless, and nearly every male she’s ever dated is the same or similar. In the South where life is different in so many ways from growing up in small town Wisconsin. Issues with the administration, shot 3. Shot 4, a minor miscommunication with a friend, shot 5, someone stole from me. Someone was supposed to sell a painting, send half the money to me , half to my son. She kept it. Coming from different angles.


#000147 Acrylic 18”X24” July 2010 ACTS

A donation to the First Congregational United Church of Christ in Madison , WI.

Read Acts 10:1-10 Bible




Title: Creation of I and I ; completed -23-10. Acrylic on canvas panel 11”X14”

Someone had shown me a quote his girlfriend sent him, it was about letting go and letting Jah (God) have his way with you. There was a picture and as I looked at it I thought about the Bible and Kebra Nagast. Genesis 2:7 Jah formed Man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living Soul . The Kebra Nagast ( Glory of the Kings) Chapter 58 II 2 says in part: “He hath fashioned him with his own fingers and He hath created him in his own image; He kissed him and breathed into him Spirit of Life and he said unto him, ”My son, my first born, my beloved..” with the Spirit of life in me, I remembered that Jah is faithful even when we are not.

Jah says in II4 “ I created him out of the dust and I will not cast away that which I have fashioned. I brought him out of non-existence and I will not make my handiwork a laughing stock for his enemies.” So whatever woes I may face right now, I have to remember that he who created me will not leave me to be made a fool of. So those who laugh at me now, those who take shots at me, will feel Jah Dread for touching his locked and dreaded. Seen?



June 2010, Acrylic titled COLOR OF HUEMANITY

I’ve been asked why I quote H.I.M. or Bob Marley so often, and my answer is “where the word of a King is, there is power.” Staying true to form… H.G. M. I Haile Selassie I (the First) Said this: “He who would efface the sacred work of almighty God (Jah), he who would abuse the mysteries of Jah creation and discriminate between man and man, whom Jah created equal, on the basis of color, race or creed, calls down upon himself disaster and rain. Let no one forget that Africans differ from no other people in the world: we love those that love us, dislike those by whom we are disliked and we are jealous guardians of our freedom. “

This came about for two reasons, I have a cellmate who seems to have an issue with the white women, and throughout the day he is liable to go off into a rant about all that is wrong with white women, not woman, or any particular woman. But all White women. At first I tried to offer him words to see past this. As you may imagine he was not receptive to this at all. So not I go under the protection of my headphones when the devil in him spits fire. The other is a comment I heard where someone said to me they thought Rastas hated white people. ..Anyone who calls themselves Rasta under the banner of Rastafari must know that our father instructs against such foolishness. Love is the fabric that warms us all during these cold times. My arms are extended to embrace all. I want to introduce you to H.G M. that is greater than us all. Before him we are naked and colorless. What I dislike is ignorance, prejudice, oppression, injustice and any form of hate.


#000158 Aug 3 2010 c 11”X14” canvas panel. Entitled : CREATIONOF I EMPRESS

Genesis 2:21-22 tells us that Jah put man asleep and took a rib from him and created woman. In the Kebrast Nagast we learn in Chapter 62 that before Jah created woman he created “ the pearl “ and put it inside of man, when Jah put man asleep, created woman. Adam right away recognized himself bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. It was the pearl that he recognized. That inner light. But when you read both the Bible and the Kebra Nast something very special is revealed. In the Bible Jah says it is not good for man to be alone, He will give him help/companion; later we learn that the woman will be the vessel that produces offspring. But it is the man that passes along the peal, not the physical seed or sperm. Chapter 62 lets us know that the pearl is the soul, which means to me that when man has 10 thoughts, 5 good and 5 evil, when man and woman stand as one, they incite the child to act on the 5 good. When one or both are not there to shape or nuture the child, he’s off balance and MAY be tempted to act on the 5 evil. Over generations the pearl of any given blood line is passed on and on and one day you meet someone and you feel it is love at first sight, the soulful recognition of a stranger, is a piece o f the same pearl coming together and recognizes itself Bone of my Bone , flesh of my Flesh. To me that sounds like such a glorious thing. Woman carries the seed and a portion of the pearl and man carries and passes over his seed ad portion of his pearl.



#000139 “Golden Heart” Acrylic July 2010

My beautiful beaded sister shared words with me from her soul. This painting is those words. The way you feel when you look at it is exactly what she said. Seen?


June 2010 Acrylic titled Khaos of a rose/abstract

Peg is a lover of the abstract, and when I put this piece together I didn’t have a lot of “thought “ behind it. But Jah spoke to me through a dream about the abstract. It’s a reflection of life, when you look to nature most only see fragmented pieces of what they like, some are attracted to the solid tree, others it’s the sea (water), this animal or that critter. But its all of those things involved in every aspect of Nature, the rose has critters in it, the flesh of animals in the soil, water, all of these doing their own thing, not really concerned with the other, you’d think with all this there would be khaos, and in so many ways it is, this uncontrolled existences moves in harmony making it all Irie.


000155 July 28 “Portrait of my Granny” 16”X20X

I’d recently heard she was sick. She’ s better now and out of the hospital. She has a story she likes to tell, where she and I were traveling in the car, headed to Detroit I believe, and had fallen asleep and something happened and she had to make a quick turn and I popped up and said “Whoa , slow down Granny”and she says that just tickled her. She’s been getting sick more often lately and I just wanted to tell her one more time” whoa , slow down Granny. “