Some of you might have noticed that throughout my website, red and black is a prominent theme. I wanted to explain why that is but I realized that in order for me to truly convey the
significance of what these colours mean to me, I would have to start from the beginning.
The very beginning. Before art was
even on my radar.
Early Years (Age 0
– 10)
Growing up in Barbados, like any child at that time, my mom made
sure I went to church and attended Sunday school. I knew the basics, Jesus
loves me, He healed the sick, fed the poor and died for our sins. I was to
follow the 10 commandments and be a good person. In reality, I believe I was
more so a Christian because it was how I was raised therefore it was all I
knew; plus living under my mom’s roof, it was that way or the highway. I had no
choice but to love Jesus, lol.
I was never really into art per say but my father, uncle and
cousin were. And because I wanted to fit in, I learned to draw but it always
felt a little difficult to me because they were so good and I wasn’t. I
remember one realistic drawing that either my dad or uncle did. It was of
Jesus’ head with a crown of thorns. That image is forever etched in my brain
because as a child, I thought that it didn’t get much better than this. This is
too perfect like real life. I can never be this good. It’s impossible.
As the years progressed, I messed around here and there with
art and comic characters, drawing ninja turtles etc. but at the heart of it
all, I wanted to be a business owner like my father. At the time, he was always
the manager at some store and as time went on he eventually owned his own
franchise. So that’s where my heart was, to make money and be successful like
my father. At school I was always ranked one of the best when it came to drawing.
There would always be competitions of one upmanship among the top three artists
and myself. One of whom was my best friend at the time, “WHAT UP ANDRE?!”. But
again, art was just something I had a talent for but nothing I took seriously,
I just did it for the recognition and accolades.
Then around the age of 8 or 9, I would say that things
started to get funky in my life. I was already the child of a broken marriage
but my mother always pulled double duty to make sure I didn’t feel the absence
of my father’s presence. I can honestly say, she loved / loves me TOO much. She
never wanted me to experience hurt or pain and as a result I was very sheltered
and over protected. But her heart was pure and she did it for the best of me. But
that didn’t stop the fact that at that age I could sense that things felt abnormal.
It started with the skin condition called vitiligo and just how the
whole atmosphere of my life felt wrong. I didn’t know how to fix things,
neither did my mother. We would just live life one day at a time and believe
for the best. She would trust in God and I would trust in her.
The Call (Age 10 -
11)
Around age 10, things started getting really bad. Constant
nightmares, feelings of fear, depression and sadness. Not to mention the fact
that I missed my father a lot. He was always “busy” being an entrepreneur,
whether legit or not, it was to be expected from divorced parents. Interaction
would have been awkward I guess. One day I was in church, not because I wanted
to be but because it was Sunday and that’s what you do in the Caribbean, you go
to church on Sundays. And also it was my mom’s house, so her rules. If given
the option, I was good on that. I could stay home and play Nintendo all day,
like a BAWSE! Lol.
But I distinctly remember the sermon being boring and I
tilted by head back and looked at the roof and all of sudden I had a vision; I
saw my future. My wife, my kids, and the reason why I was created. God told me
that He brought me into the earth to use art to minister to and to bring change
to my generation. To summarise, He told me it would be art of a different breed
and to expect great things. After the vision ended, I became aware of my
reality of being back in the boring church service. At that point, I wasn’t
aware it was a vision, I just thought it was a very elaborate day dream. None
the less, I decided to share it with my mom to see if there was more to it than
I thought. Immediately she recognized it was a vision from God and told me we
need to follow what God said. Please bear in mind, I had no intentions of being
an artist for a living, I wanted to go where the money was and that was being a
store owner like my dad. But I was raised to always obey God because He knows
best and if you want the best in life, that is what you do. I recently asked my
mother, why she believed what I told her was from God and not just my child
like imagination? She told me the things I told her were far beyond my
cognition at that age and it had to have been divinely given.
So I started to take art more seriously but at the same time
the nightmares and oppression in my life kept going from bad to worse. I didn’t
know how to make it stop. Truth be told, I had somewhat grown used to it and
accepted it as life because I knew no other way. Even though it felt bad, even
though intrinsically I knew there had to be better. I accepted it. Then one day
at church there was an impromptu deliverance service and as the pastor prayed
for us, God showed him by the spirit that via witchcraft someone had released
hordes of demons to torment us. Then during that prayer I had a vision of my
own and God showed me our house being surrounded by encroaching demons. Then as
the pastor prayed that we be delivered, I saw them disperse and disappear. It
was at that moment I knew Jesus was real. You can know of someone your whole
life but until you have an experience and interaction with them, you will not
have an intimate knowledge of them being REAL.
It was at that point, at age 11, I decided to take my
Christianity seriously. If I was that important for the devil to try to kill me,
then what God showed me MUST equally be as important. I wish I could tell you
that from that night the demonic harassment stopped and life was great after
that prayer. NOPE! When I decided to take my walk seriously, I instantly had a
bulls eye on me for different reasons. Before it was for the fun of tormenting
a child, now it was for the purpose of aborting destiny. My determined decision
to be a REAL Christian thrust me from the frying pan into the fire.
Bootcamp (Age 11 - 16)
The presence of demons had reached a point in my life where
there were visitations every night. It was so bad, that I had a ritual every night
before I went to bed. I would make sure every light in the house, which lead a
path to my bedroom, was on. And as I progressed closer and closer to my room I
would systematically turn each light off. Then as I reached my bedroom door, I
would anoint the door posts with anointing oil in the shape of a cross. Place Psalm 91 at the foot of my door, pull back the bed covers and turn on the fan.
NOW this is where the fun begins. I knew when I turned off my bedroom light, is
when it would get real. So in one motion, I had to turn off the light and
seamlessly dive under my covers and pull it over my head. Why did I have to
dive under the covers and pull it over my head? So I wouldn’t see the demons
rising from the shadows in the corner of my room. Why did I have to have the
fan on? So I wouldn’t hear the demons whispering and feel them breathing on my
neck. I would convince myself that it was just the wind from the fan. Why was
it imperative that I be under the covers as the fan blew on me? So that I could
tell myself that it was just the wind of the fan moving the sheets and not
demons touching me.
Because I knew what I was experiencing was real, I had to
use logic to trick my mind into believing all these rational placebos and
buffer zones I had setup. Then as I lay in the midst of these night terrors, I
had to pray. Pray that I make it to the morning.
Then during the summer, my mom decided that we would wake up
at 5am to have Bible study. Excuse me? You do realize that is summer vacation
and at 5am angels are still sleeping right? But this was her law, so let it be
written, so let it be done. As much as I hated those 5am Bible studies, I grew
exponentially because of them. I learned about spiritual warfare and actually
using scriptures as weapons, I learnt how my words carried weight and that what
I said, determined what I received (Prov 18:21). Spiritually I was more mature than my peers. It was to the point
that I would sit in on adult Sunday school because Jesus fed the 5000 wasn’t
cutting it for me. I was now well equipped to deal with the spirits that
tormented me. One by one, my placebos and buffer zones were laid to rest. Until
it reached the point, where I embraced the darkness. I was no longer the
recipient of terror but the harbinger of it. I no longer feared but I was to be
feared.
God and Art (Age
16 -18)
Up until this point my spirituality and artistic style grew
somewhat hand in hand. But the majority of my focus was on growing in God. Now
I came to the point in my life where I was like “Ok God, you gave me this
calling, now what do I do with it?” The first thing that comes to mind as being
a Christian artist is that you have to draw biblical characters only. But
knowing me, that was going to get old really quick. There’s only but so many
times I can draw Jesus with sheep. Plus, I was used to drawing fantastic comic
characters and emulating what I saw from Marvel / DC etc. I had a talk with my
mom about what I should do and she told me “Being a Christian artist doesn’t
mean you only draw Moses or biblical characters, it means you create by the
spirit of God. God will give you the inspiration.” The words were from her
mouth but the message was from God.
At that point I decided to blaze my own trail, I would intentionally be different and be in a league of my own. I began to saturate everything I produced in prayer and would ask God to help me create. And as I did that, I found that God would subvert my preset routines of illustration. He would say why not try this or why not put this there or why not use this colour instead. As a result, this divine inspiration put me at the top of my classes artistically. I knew that I was the best, not because I was bragging but because it was just what it was. I was apprentice to creator of the universe, the apex artist. Being the best was simply the byproduct of such association.
At that point I decided to blaze my own trail, I would intentionally be different and be in a league of my own. I began to saturate everything I produced in prayer and would ask God to help me create. And as I did that, I found that God would subvert my preset routines of illustration. He would say why not try this or why not put this there or why not use this colour instead. As a result, this divine inspiration put me at the top of my classes artistically. I knew that I was the best, not because I was bragging but because it was just what it was. I was apprentice to creator of the universe, the apex artist. Being the best was simply the byproduct of such association.
My art style became very vibrant in colour and aggressive in
brush strokes. What you saw on the canvas was a mirror image of what was going
on inside of me. Spirituality was always intertwined in some form in my work.
That’s why a self-portrait was never the status quo, you would always see the
spiritual overflowing into the natural.
"self portrait"
11" x 37"
acrylic on canvas
The above painting illustrates me being consumed by the fire of God and the power of the Holy Ghost shooting out of my eyes. The painting beneath depicts me in a state of spiritual amok, intimidating the enemy.
"Boanerges"
37" x 52"
acrylic on canvas
It could be said that my use of colour was as a result of
cultural influence, to some degree it might have been. The Caribbean is a
colourful place.
But for me, using colour in it’s purest form without
diluting or amalgamating it with another colour spoke immensely of the
importance of remaining an unadulterated, individual while being able to work corporately
in performing a unified task. For me the juxtapositioning of vivid colours travelling
on the backs of aggressive brush strokes was a direct assault on the kingdom of
darkness as each colour was applied.
The more I grew in my relationship with God, the more
established I became in my artistic identity. What you saw on the outside was
who I was on the inside. My work took on a terrifying persona because I had to
become that much more formidable to the forces of darkness that were attacking
me on a daily basis. My expressions and interpretations of God were directly
based upon the relationship I had with Him. While most knew Him as a father or
love, I knew Him as a warrior and as such that was the facet of Him I
portrayed. We must remember, we perceive people based on the relationship we
have with them. It doesn’t mean that it’s a different person, it’s just a
different side of them. For example, the way you know the president is
different from the way his kids know him. You know him as commander in chief,
they know him as dad. Even the way his wife knows him is different than how the
kids do. So this is the side of God I know, it grew out of a necessity to
survive, it was cultivated out of the pursuit of destiny.
Coming to America
(Age 18-21)
After graduating from Barbados Community College with an
associates degree in Fine Art, I came to the Savannah College of Art and Design
and graduated with a Bachelor’s in Sequential Art. I then moved to South
Carolina to be with my mom. While I was here, I attended the local church she
was a part of and was embraced with open arms. Everybody loved me. I was very
focused and serious about my walk with God and my art. Given what I had been
through in my life up to that point, I was very goal oriented and destiny
fueled. My desire, walk and worship of God was equally pure as it was intense.
And because of that I was misunderstood in some aspects. Remember the analogy I
gave with the president. Many people don’t know the side of God that I do, so
when it is displayed it can be taken the wrong way. “That looks demonic”, “That
art does not look like God”, “It looks like the work of a murderer”. It never
bothered me because I knew they didn’t have the same revelation of God as I did
and I know it takes different parts to complete the body of Christ. It’s ok if
all you’ve known was the heart, just don’t be put off when an arm arrives.
In the process of attending the church I befriended a young
lady and we fell in love. It was beautiful. This is where things get
interesting.
Fade to Black (Age
22-23)
Up to this point I was well loved, respected and received by
everyone. We can’t control who we fall in love with, neither can a person
choose their family. The problem was my heart decided to fall in love with a
woman who lived at home with an overly controlling mother. Her mother loved me
and approved of me dating her daughter, until her daughter started using her own
brain and being an individual. Just so you understand the level of control the
mother had over the household; she had to ask her mother if she could have
permission to go outside. “You’re how old?”
Love will make you do “stupid” things. And her stupid thing,
was going out of her way to spend time with me, “disobeying” her mother and
making adult decisions. We could hardly enjoy a date together as her mom would
set ridiculous curfews and would always call to see what we were doing and
sometimes she would send my love interest’s siblings to our location just to
“hang out”. It was over the top.
As “A” leads to “B”, it was only elementary that issues with
our relationship spilled into church life. The issues weren’t between the young
lady and I, the issues were all from her mother fearing the loss of control she
once had. So her mother started spreading rumors and lies in the church, not
only on my mother and myself but on her very OWN daughter, that was the lowest
of the low to me. She would go to the pastor crying and telling her fabricated
stories. Then I noticed that relationships I had cultivated in the church
started to change. People wouldn’t converse as much or associate as much. Just
a select few who knew the truth and knew my heart remained. Things were getting
very stressful for my love interest at her home, as her mom was physically and
verbally abusive. I told her, it’s not worth it. I’ll just move on. It
shouldn’t be this much turmoil and unnecessary stress just to be a part of
someone’s family. Blood is thicker than water and at the end of the day you
should always have your family. I love you too much to see you go through this,
I’ll just leave. She begged me to stay, pleaded with me and convinced me. So I told
her, once I am in. I am ALL IN, 100% to the end. I will never leave you, I’ll
always be here. Are you sure you want this? She said yes. So it was at that
moment I totally committed myself to her. As we grew closer, the intensity of both her mother’s and sister’s assaults followed
suit in the forms of slander and emotional abuse. I found myself hurting, not
for me. But for the one I loved. Seeing her
hurt, hurt me. Seeing her cry, cut me. My colourful, vibrant life was starting
to fade before my eyes.
Almost every day was some ridiculous event, scenario or
yelling going on in the background whenever we talked on the phone. Being adept
at spiritual warfare and having to endure what I grew up in, I could tell her
mom was doing some shady praying. It was affecting my home and even my
relationship with my mom. So, being a prayer warrior I knew how to handle the
situation. I know that when I pray, God listens and answers. So I told my love,
“Your mom is praying prayers against me and my mom that are not of God and
they’re affecting us. I’ve done all I can in being respectful, polite and
trying to embrace her but she only has one agenda in mind. I have to defend
myself. I can only turn my cheek so many times”. Because she knew who I am, she
begged me not to pray. After all, it was her mom and what was important to her
was important to me. So I willingly let my defenses down and took the incoming
onslaught. Love sacrifices. It might not have been the wisest move, but it was
all I knew at the time to appease her. I figured I was strong enough to take it
until she had her own place and we could finally be together without any
distractions.
Daily, my vibrant life started to fade. I knew I could
withstand this barrage of lies and slander; after all, I faced demons nightly
for years and survived. This wasn’t going to kill me. The battle strategy
wouldn’t be retaliation but it had to be endurance and patience. Hearing all
the lies, the rumours, seeing all her tears, her sister carrying out her mom’s
agenda with the sinister snitching and back biting continued to beat me down
but I was resilient. Then one day I saw something that blew my mind, I was in
church worshipping during service. And I looked around and saw her mom raising
her hands, worshipping and praying in tongues.
That messed me up!
“God are you seeing this right now? This woman just spent
all week lying, slandering, abusing and is in here in your face worshipping you
like it’s nothing. Like she did nothing wrong. God are you seeing this? This
can’t be real life”. That totally threw me off, from that day I couldn’t
worship right or get my psyche into church because it totally messed with my
mind. How someone could be so evil and then act as if they’re holy. My vibrancy
dropped a few shades that day. My fiery, Christian passion started to wane.
Things went from very bad to worse, as my love had to move
out of state just to get away from her mom and for her benefit and safety. She
had to leave her business behind and start from scratch. As difficult as it was
for us to be a couple in the same state, I couldn’t imagine how we would be
able to deal with the added distance.
Things were very difficult for her, but I was her shoulder
and strength. I would encourage and help her emotionally, financially and
otherwise anyway I could. She didn’t have a job and lived from house to house. Her
mom still persisted with the mental abuse, telling her that she’s under a curse
for leaving home, being with me isn’t God’s will and that’s why things are so
hard. If we ever have kids they will be under a curse, just look at my skin.
And plus I’m from the Caribbean and all we do is voodoo. Still being unable to
defend myself in prayer because she begged me not to, I took every blow for
over a year. But I held on to the fact that this wouldn’t kill me, even as I
was fading to grey. I knew I had survived satan’s best onslaughts. This would
just be a light affliction and worth it in the end. I really wish I could
articulate how intense the entire situation was but unless you were emotionally
and mentally invested like I was, words will never do it justice.
FINALLY after months of her struggling in another city, finally
after endless job hunting and finally after having her own place, she did it!
She was in a good place, I was so happy for her. She can be at peace and we can
begin to focus on us. I no longer had to fade and my fire no longer had to fizzle.
At this point I was holding on by a thread.
Then one day she called me like she usually would and just
said “I think it’s best we not talk anymore. Bye.” And she hung up the phone.
I died that day.
Living Dead (Age
24)
My life was no longer a series of faded colours, it was instantly
black and grey. My fire was out and all that was left of me was ash. How is it
that the one I covered like an umbrella with my prayers, my heart and my words,
the one whom I took every arrow in my back for as I covered her to defend her
because I couldn’t defend myself. Could so easily, in my vulnerability towards
her…. Stab me in the heart and walk away?
I was an empty husk that day. A shell of myself.
I spent so many hours/weeks/months investing in her,
investing in us. Now I was left to live with a stranger; and the stranger was
me.
I had no appetite or desire to sleep because all I did was
dream of her and in the same token all I wanted to do was sleep so I could end
the day, end the pain, end the thoughts of her.
I no longer read my bible out of duty or to grow in God. I literally
read my bible just to survive. No particular scripture or verse; just reading.
I was already dead. I couldn’t endure a 2nd death.
For one year, I was a zombie. I really create didn’t artistically
and my spiritual life was meh. Just black and grey. No vibrancy. Those who knew
me intimately would ask “What’s wrong? Where did your fire go? Where did your
roar go?” I didn’t have a reply. Even though I knew what I was, I just didn’t know
how to get there anymore. The fire was gone and Daveion was dead. This was an
unexpected turn of events. I continued “living” life, not out of happiness or
the pursuit of destiny but because that’s what you do when you wake up with air
in your lungs. You endure the day until the sun sets. #wash #rinse #repeat
Life was one seamless stream of black and grey.
Remember (Age 25)
I don’t know how it happened or when it happened. But I just
got tired of being dead. I got tired of being mundane and mediocre. I got tired
of just “living” and not thriving like I used to. I took out the prophecy I had
written down from the first vision God gave me when I was 11. The vision that
started it all, and I read every word, internalized every word and locked into
every word as being TRUE! And at that moment within my spirit I saw the ash
heap that represented my life. There were embers starting to form and from the
embers emerged a phoenix with great vigor. From my death, a new life and passion was rebirthed. In the
midst of death, God was able to reincarnate with the breath of life! My passion was back, my
intensity was back, my fire was back.
The vision of the piercing, red embers being breathed to life from a seemingly dead, black ash heap resonated within me. Those two colours, red and black immediately took on an iconic purpose in my life. The black was death and the red was the fiery life of the phoenix that emerged triumphant from it. From that moment I was divinely inspired to create again and
in 2006 I had the (Re:D) exhibit. RE:D
was an acronym for the REiteration of
Daveion. I had to remind myself why
I was what was, who I am and why I was here to begin with. The image I
used in the exhibit to represent myself was indicative of this change. Every design element used had descriptive, symbolic purpose.
Starting at the bottom:
- We see arrows moving down and then they turn upwards. This is symbolic of my life dying out and then before I hit rock bottom, God brought a complete turn around and resurrected me.
- Those arrows are connected to 2 bigger, rotating arrows that encompass a radioactive symbol as well as 4 connected circles. The radioactive symbol represents my atomic heart i.e. passion and drive for God. The three circles connected to the bigger circle signify the Holy Trinity inseparably joined to my soul. The arrows encompassing both the circles and the atomic symbol are constantly rotating like gears because it is generating battery like power that is a result of the symbols co-dependence.
- My right hand is superimposed over the silhouette of the moon and my left hand over the sun and earth. This represents my dominion over heaven and earth as stated in Matthew 16:19.
- The diagonal arrows that extend from my right wrist to my left shoulder, signify my perpetual growth and expansion in every area of life.
- Hovering over my shoulders are angel wings and a halo on my head to symbolise sainthood.
For a few years after that, everything I created was
primarily in red and black. At present, even though my style has re-evolved to
embracing vibrant, vivid, raw colour again, there will always be some semblance
of red and black in my work as it was the new foundation that I was
reestablished upon.
I invite you to view the works of the (Re:D) gallery HERE by scrolling to the bottom and clicking enter.
