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Jean-Michel Basquiat

Jean-Michel Basquiat

The Neo-Expressionist Prophet

King of the cracked sidewalk thrones, crown me in spray paint and jazz.

My mother gave me art like a heartbeat, my father’s ghost taught me hunger. I eat canvases raw, spit back bones and saints and jagged alphabets. I’m not a product of the gutter—we all got the same dirt. I just made it glitter. You think SAMO$ is dead? Nah. He’s in every alley where the rent’s overdue and the walls talk.

What I'm Into: Three-pointed crowns, Basement jazz, SAMO$ verses, Bone anatomy, White-walled galleries

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