CODEX©
By Nick Makoha
SAMO© first appears as a tag on a New York
City wall in 1978 two blocks down from Aswad
bookstore. It is a kind of CODEX© to speak
the unspeakable as if it were a confession on redbrick
or brownstone in the hard years. Downtown
was Jean’s street studio. So were the fridge, TV,
wall and floor in the apartment. He saw no division
between earth and sky. To call it graffiti is to call
hieroglyphics gibberish. That’s ignorant. This is
Jean-Michel ordering a tequila to test his outer limits.
It’s a summer night and we have rented two 35mm
cameras. He’s figured out that a painting is stronger
than memory, passports, planes, and nicotine. Curtains
drawn. Wood scavenged. Paint and unpaid rent.
City wall in 1978 two blocks down from Aswad
bookstore. It is a kind of CODEX© to speak
the unspeakable as if it were a confession on redbrick
or brownstone in the hard years. Downtown
was Jean’s street studio. So were the fridge, TV,
wall and floor in the apartment. He saw no division
between earth and sky. To call it graffiti is to call
hieroglyphics gibberish. That’s ignorant. This is
Jean-Michel ordering a tequila to test his outer limits.
It’s a summer night and we have rented two 35mm
cameras. He’s figured out that a painting is stronger
than memory, passports, planes, and nicotine. Curtains
drawn. Wood scavenged. Paint and unpaid rent.
After red wine he swears he heard the wall say
—Let your wrists be free. In the face of all this,
he was kin to me. This is a photograph of
Jean-Michel after the ten-minute set at the Mudd Club.
He says—It’s not me, and shows more interest
in the streetlamp above us. Look the camera is guessing.
Selfhood is a controlled hallucination generated
by the brain. The night is a black moon. The Empire
State Building has always been a lead character
in his inner movie. From the loft, it glows orange.
This is Jean-Michel, and he says—If you can’t see
my three-point crown you should see a doctor.
He is divided and dying for a piss. He presents
as an image of a man and as matter in motion.
—Let your wrists be free. In the face of all this,
he was kin to me. This is a photograph of
Jean-Michel after the ten-minute set at the Mudd Club.
He says—It’s not me, and shows more interest
in the streetlamp above us. Look the camera is guessing.
Selfhood is a controlled hallucination generated
by the brain. The night is a black moon. The Empire
State Building has always been a lead character
in his inner movie. From the loft, it glows orange.
This is Jean-Michel, and he says—If you can’t see
my three-point crown you should see a doctor.
He is divided and dying for a piss. He presents
as an image of a man and as matter in motion.
Notes:
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