In 2010 I visited a new friend Aaron Moniz (U.T.I. Drummer) in Casablanca Morocco. I was traveling to Spain for the first time, and decided to link the trip last minute. What I experienced changed my life… I discovered a completely underground culture of punk and hardcore music, skateboarding, surfing and the emerging of street art. I knew I had to leave behind something meaningful as the people there gifted me so much. I was brought to Anciens Abatoirs, an abandoned slaughter house turned art venue. It was one of the most amazing cultural spaces I had ever seen. As at the time, there was no place for young people to express themselves fully. Street art was completely forbidden. So I decided to leave a large illustration of myself behind. An image I have been working on for the last 6 years. A cathartic process, healing me as I expressed it. It was viewed as a dangerous mission, I almost got arrested once while painting alone. But as fate had it I finished it. It is best captured by the idea of Maktoub, which is an Arabic word that translates to “It is (or was) written.” Everything. It is the idea of predestination, that God already knows everything that ever was and ever will.
This painting was actually more about the process then the actual end result. Being there in this abandoned slaughter house, painting under the sun to the sound of birds flying around me, listening to the call of prayer, the people I met… I couldn’t of done this without the help of the friends I made. I really want to thank Aaron and Sedric for believing in me. They helped work on the wall with me, filling in parts to get it done faster. It truly was one of the most incredible and spiritually profound experiences in my life. Staring at myself I realized that we, as individuals hold incredible power and when applied positively, we can change worlds inside and outside of us.
In 2012 I returned to Morocco. Anciens Abitoirs had completely changed from 2 years previously. The once sparsely painted walls were now covered in art. There was a small park with a sitting space built in front of my painting. The people had overtaken this abandoned space and now there was real momentum. The city was finally listening. It was beautiful…
I returned to the painting to find it bombed, but in a very specific narrative. I had been covered with blue shorts and was given (gasp) a small penis! The laughter that bubbled out of me was really my first response. It made me think about the image, where I left it, and how others must of seen it. All important realizations. I decided to buff the text away, keep the shorts and penis and paint directly on top a series of birds and designs. A message that will continue the dialogue without me…
