Cocaine Column/ Build & Destroy

This work was developed around 2014 and first executed in 2015.

This work is a two-tiered critique analyzing the relationship between men of color, specifically Black men, and that of the American drug hustler lifestyle as a motivating factor toward achievement and as a self-imposed, perpetual prison. It operates as both performance and sculpture. The preparation and execution of the performance are embedded within the work.

Including everything from the acquiring and moving of weight (large sums of product or illicit substances), the cutting/stretching(diluting to produce a more or enhance said product), the selling or distribution, or in this instance, the build-up to something potentially monumental that leads to an eventual decline. The piece parallels the path of a drug dealer toward inevitable incarceration or death.

The piece is durational, it is physical, it is ephemeral, and it is political.

Make it stand out.

If I were to go beyond my waist, how would I continue to carry on; How long would I stay entombed? When would I break out, if at all, during the performance? I considered asking an audience member to aid in imprisoning me, but; I wondered. What would that mean, what would be the implications or ramifications, and how would this alter the conceptual basis of the performance?

Two hundred and forty bricks sourced from Home Depot, weighing approximately 5 lbs. each, painted white, powder coated, wrapped in plastic, and duct-taped make up the work.

In my studio, I plotted out the final design; I formed a four-sided square in which my body could fit and built it up to about waist high before dissembling them and laying them out to be painted. With the bricks prepared, I still had not decided what the live performance would look like; there were several questions I needed to address; How far would I build it up?

Time Based & Physically Demanding

The performance is durational, as mentioned above. Conceptually it began from the point of purchase. But the actual live performance is itself an exercise of endurance and time. The piece expedited out of consideration for the audience runs just over an hour, allowing 30-40 minutes to build the tomb/ prison, an additional 30 minutes for my body to be; fully encapsulated and for the column of cocaine bricks to be witnessed, admired, and contemplated as a monumental, sculptural monolith. I break out at the end of which and then invite whoever is left in attendance to reimagine the sculpture as a collaborative piece.

It all begins with an idea.

The brick-lined walls began to grow higher and higher and were approaching waist height; I could no longer keep one foot in and one foot out and had to contort my body and draw the table of bricks in on the casters closer to continue.

Let's all take part in boxing a nigga up.

I made several recordings of myself working through the piece; I made what I thought would be a tongue-in-cheek invitation to assist me and left it as a note on the door outside the campus gallery; It read; Let's all take part in boxing a nigga up. No one showed up for a long time.

“…cooperative alliance formed between the black and brown community”

A friend Michael DeLeon stopped by and asked if he could help. Mike is Mexican American. At that moment, it hit me; this would make for an excellent commentary on the cooperative alliance formed between the black and brown community and their complicit involvement in the drug trade.

I created an audio recorded loop of the chorus to rapper Gucci Mane’s 2008 song; Bricks, which made a monotonous soundtrack played throughout the performance to accompany the piece; to reflect the self-induced hypnotic effect of the music used to underscore and motivate participants in the drug game.

“There would be an exchange of money, and he would aid me in my imprisonment…”

Mike was busy on the day of the performance, so I had to get another Mexican homie to fill in. Unfortunately, I cannot recall the homie's name.

“…30-40 minutes to build the tomb/ prison…”

“…column of cocaine bricks to be witnessed, admired and contemplated as a monumental, sculptural monolith.”

We agreed that he would be staged in the audience, then when the cell grew so high that I could no longer continue on my own; I would find him in the crowd and signal that I could use his assistance. There would be an exchange of money, and he would aid me in my imprisonment finishing it off when, by physical limitation, I could build no more.

“…the actual live performance is itself an exercise of endurance and time.”

Tremendous mental and bodily fortitude was required to remain still while standing within the confines of what essentially amounted to a fragile box. The slightest move or miscalculation during a corporal adjustment could send the bricks tumbling down upon my head.

“After the build-up, for an additional 30 minutes, my body remains fully encapsulated inside the column of cocaine bricks…”

The world of drug dealing is plagued by peril at every turn. This art piece is by no means nearly as dangerous. I tried to keep the risk factor in mind throughout its development, taking into account the impact of a load of bricks on my car’s suspension, the possibility of breaking a foot or fracturing a finger mishandling them in transport or during preparation, and their potential collapse upon my head when upon breaking free. 

Through the death and destruction of the old, we give birth to the new.

I break out of the boundaries of the brick enclosure freeing myself. As I emerge from the rubble I invite whoever is left in attendance to reimagine the sculpture as a collaborative piece.

“Destroy, then we build… making room for minds to grow. “

I came up in the 80s and am very much a product of what is widely known as the crack era. The cocaine crack epidemic ravaged the U.S. leading to an increase in violent crime that; left a wave of adults incarcerated, dead, or drug addicted. There was a void of parental guidance. My generation saw the beginning of the latchkey child and a rise in single-parent homes where the T.V. often operated as a surrogate.  

In many ways, we had to make sense of the world ourselves. I think movies had the most significant impact on indoctrinating my generation or are at the least responsible for the introduction; and exaltation of the outlaw lifestyle. While generations before mine took their cues of masculinity from depictions of cowboys in old westerns, soldiers in war films, or the drug kingpin, pimp lifestyle highlighted in blaxploitation films. The segue of the latter into what we recognize as the modern-day gangster film, popularized by Martin Scoreses masterpieces of cinema such as The Godfather, Good Fellas, and Casino, seems to have had the most impact on mine.

This fact is made evident by the growing popularity of gangster rap in the subsequent decade of the nineties. When asked, Jay-Z, a renowned hip-hop recording artist, supported this claim, notably mentioning being more influenced by Brian De Palmas, Scarface (a cocaine-addled kingpin), as opposed to the lyrics of rapper Scarface. But hip-hop/ gangster rap is not the only musical culprit that has catapulted the legend of the gangster; the Mexican-originating sub-genre of music known as the narco-corrido, or drug ballad, that traditionally focused on drug smugglers dates back to as early as 1930.

This piece considers how songs like Guccis; Bricks, with its syncopated flow, simple lyrics, and repetitive hook, can drive desire and influence young people (black men) through the promotion of a hustler, gangster, drug dealer cultural mentality for better or worse in mind. I say for better and worse because it is not all bad, or at least it’s all good, til, it ain't, and everybody likes to root for the under dawg.  

De Palmas' depiction of a poor (minority) immigrant (Tony Montana’s) rise to riches in his 1998 film Scarface is a fitting example. It is the quintessential American dream. Yes, there was his eventual and inevitable downfall, but in many ways, the come-up was and is worth the fall or the potential. I wondered about the overtly expressed or the unspoken presumption of the adopted mantra Get Rich or Die Tyrin, summed up by the title of iconic rapper 50 Cents' 2003 debut album. I thought of the burden of responsibility, be it intrinsic or unearned expectation, that often falls on the shoulders of said young men to be providers, to maintain status or standard, to risk it all, death or jail for the prize of wealth and power.

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