Cigarettes

Back in Jacksonville, I whipped together an art show called Cigarettes, my first solo show which was to debut at my friends coffee shop, called Brew, in under a week. I became a shut-in, putting paint down and mounting paintings and drawings. As the show date came nearer, I found myself out on the town a fair amount, determined to not let the show stress me, it felt appropriate to put up some flyers and to talk with friends about the opening. Truth be told, most of the work was done in the three months prior to going to Miami. I went into the park downtown where I got a coffee from my friend Will's coffee stand. He caught me up on goings on in Jacksonville (didn't seem like I missed much), including a successful winter holiday market, which I'd made a beautiful gouache painted flyer for. A young man walking by asked if I liked hip hop. I replied with a yes, and he offered me one of his hip hop albums. I had no money to give him and offered that we walk together around the corner to a bank where I could withdraw some cash for him. I let him do most of the talking. He was wonderful- very passionate about his craft, and full of life. I asked if he'd played shows. He said yes, he'd emceed at group shows before. I asked if he would like to play a show tomorrow. He was smart and asked specifics. His name was Jumu. We exchanged information and agreed to stay in touch through the night and following day. I felt determined to have him play. I got in my car and put his cd in the player. It was good!
I talked with Jumu via text about equipment- he had none of his own equipment. I need to get him a PA system if he was to play. In addition to the equipment limitations, Brew as a venue had its own set of limitations. A theater next door meant that we could not play music at the same time as a scheduled movie. I talked with Tim at the theater and he offered that he could start one movie early, and another movie late, giving us a 45 minute gap in which Jumu could be as loud as we wanted to go.
Now to get a PA system. Like divinity, while talking with the Brew crew, Liz Russell walked through the door who was there to talk with Summer Wood about lending her PA system to Summer for a show at CoRK the next night. Summer and Liz's deal went through and I piggy-backed. It worked out wonderfully. Liz and I got right into her car and made the drive to her parents warehouse where tons and tons of fabrics are processed for paint companies and thrift stores. In the back storage section of the warehouse, we dug out the PA system, then drove it back to Brew. All was a go for Jumu!

One of the two artists, Mark George, who was hanging in the previous show at Brew came in to take down his work. He patched up his holes and I agreed to sand and paint. I got the key to the business and took off for the big sprint to the finish.

That night at CoRK studio, I went into production mode. Finishing the paintings, which I could manage to finish and putting the rest in a corner. Shaun came by to take photos of some of his drawings. We set up a camera and lighting and took some photos. I mixed two colors for the borders of every panel in the show, creating a feeling of unity throughout the body of work, though the mediums used in the show were varied. I installed hardware on the backs of some of the paintings, loaded them in my car, and drove the work to Brew in two or three trips. In Brew, I laid the work in front of the interior wall on which I was to install, and moved all of the chairs from one side of the room to the other to get a better view. To my great fortune, my first layout of the show looked great. I took out a pen and paper, and did all of my 60-center math (which I learned from working in the Museum of Contemporary Art Downtown), and hung the show. I finished around 6 in the morning, then went to bed. I arrived back at Brew in the early afternoon to touch base and learn about the show. The crew seemed to enjoy it thoroughly. I'd hung paintings which I understood to be unfinished ( I thought I would come back through with ink and a brush and give it a once-over), but those were the very paintings which upon sitting at the counter and talking with the Brew crew about, that garnered the most positive response. I felt relieved and also trapped in my decision to leave the paintings where they were. I think there is something very powerful about leaving the painting alone as soon as it says what it needs to say. If you treat your audience with respect, they will show respect. They get it, no need to over explain. That afternoon, I went to my friend Stephanie's house who agreed to prepare vegetables that I'd purchased  for the night and a great deal of hummus. As the show time grew near I spent time with the crew (Amanda, Jeremy, Cali, and Jack) making the space look great. We moved around condiments, took down all of the flyers in the window, set out food, and set up the PA out in the front room. Jumu showed up right on time and checked his levels. Eight O'clock rolled around and no one was in the bar for the show. There was a definite calm before the storm feeling. Friends began trickling in and it became a real event by and by. Jumu's performance window opened up. I asked for the attention of the bar through the mic (I have next to zero command through a mic). A friend helped out by yelling through the bar, "QUIET!"- thank you.
"Hello, I'm Kemeys, this is my art show. I would like to introduce my friend Jumu who will rhyme over some beats. Thank you."
I handed the mic to Jumu. He pressed play on his phone, which was plugged in to the PA system. The beats began, and Jumu started to come to life. He sounded awful, but I thought if nothing else, it added some character to the show. It sounded bad. I took a short walk around the corner. Was I mistaken about Jumu? Coming back in to Brew from my walk, I felt the solution was very obvious. I went up to the PA and turned Jumu's soundtrack way up. His beats were killer and the increase in volume sent a wave of inspiration through he and I. At once, it sounded fantastic! Together we danced in the front room, and he looked great through the glass storefront windows. My enthusiasm for Jumu rekindled, I turned my attention to conversing with friends in the adjacent room. It was a wonderful night. There was a lot of talk about each of the paintings in the show selling. It seemed like everyone wanted a different piece and I felt that I may have a sold-out show. The night went on and I'd traded numbers with interested potential buyers. As the show came to a close, I began to re-install the flyers in the front window, and package the left-over food. I returned the borrowed sound equipment and began the load-out. I felt light. I thanked Jumu and paid him (we'd agreed on two hundred and fifty dollars- because artists not getting paid is bullshit). The night ended with a round of high fives basically and I went back to CoRK to clean up the art-mess that I'd made. I thought to myself, 'no rest for the weary'- What does that mean?

Morrison proposed a show at CoRK called Tickets- because he and I and Overstreet all got parking tickets while down in Miami. Morrison has a way of bolstering excitement from seemingly nowhere. Soon the showcase was big, with a lineup I couldn't have dreamed of being a part of. The flyer read Thursto, Southworth, Goethe, Luque, Overstreet, Pierce. Dream team. I began preparing every finished painting that I had.