Alone in Woodlawn

During late September of 2018, I found myself in a mood to reflect upon my life and, most importantly, evaluate where I am going with it. Amongst all of the memories ill or fond is a sense of solitude, the kind that makes you feel like a vacuum in space pulled you into a dimension all to yourself. Alone in thought, feeling, creativity, goals, pains, etc. The only shared factor with others is time. Time in a context of change, more specifically progress. As seasons progress through their cycles, the leaves turn brown, the birds grow fewer, and the sounds of school homecomings and football games carry on across the SouthSide. Amongst all of these happenings I remain perched in my space overlooking Marquette Rd, watching, reflecting, and predicting. 

In this space, I formulate opinions and theories on factors shaping my life and the world around me. I reflect on the happenings at work, including the people who depend on me or often ask for help. My ears consume requests for products, and my heart produces walls for separation. It is needed, as for when my mouth produces requests they are never accepted by the ears of others. It is this sensation of feeling the world swirling into myself but having no outlet upon which to partake in my own swirls that I finally accepted the words written on my life: Born Alone Die Alone No Crew to Keep My Crown or Throne.

How could lyrics made the year of my birth hold true 24 years later? Or, do the creative births from labors of mankind suffer no tirade from the withering passage of time?

The World is Yours (Q Tip Remix) - Nas

Email:

creative.mwilson@gmail.com

11x17", ink and graphite, 2018