Oh, Manchester, So Much To Answer For

Last night, the bf and I went to MOCA to see a truly amazing exhibition of works by Jean-Michel Basquiat. This is, I believe, the biggest exhibition of his works ever, including 70 paintings and some 50 works on paper, and it (at points) gave me chills. I'm a big fan of a lot of the NYC "downtown" (or were they "uptown"?) artists of the '80s, such as Kenny Scharf and gay icon (well, his work is iconic, at least) Keith Haring, but Basquiat's work moves me in a way different from about anyone else. The bf suggested last night that Basquiat says "a lot, but I'm not always sure what he's saying," and I definitely agree. His work expresses, I think, confusion, addiction (two words, kids: crack kills), identity politics, playfulness, and a hell of a lot more. I've not seen anyone's work like his; Basquiat was most definitely (and defiantly) a true original. Being only 18" from his work was breathtaking in the truest sense.

Above is my favorite single image of Basquiat's. Rest in peace, JMB.