As we sat in a little old shed somewhere in Rhode Island, the conversation came easy. I was joined by two good friends who specialized in illustration: Painter and Tattoo Artist Siobhan O’Connor and Painter and Commercial Artist Mosquiat. We were invited to Mos’ home studio where we would spend the afternoon reminiscing about our upbringings and rambling on about our hardships and our triumphs.
With Siobhan having grown up in Billerica and Mos in Wakefield, we were all very much familiar with the environments we matured in, as well as the paths that so many of the people around us would take. As it were, we may have been lucky to have grown from these places with only a couple scars to prove it—and accompanying artistic prowess and integrity. Most of the people we knew growing up may not have gotten the chance to ever grow at all.
Both of the artists went to school for illustration, but felt, as most of this generation does, that their education was not worth the debt that came with it. In our discussion, we explored how we were affected by the institutionalization of certain norms in “higher education,” which did not reward us for our attempts at enlightenment but instead grew our hunger to counteract the system.
At one point, Mos talked about his excitement that colleges and universities may one day have degrees for tattooing, making it more accessible for artists to get into the business. Siobhan, being a tattoo artist, didn’t agree. They exclaimed that, as of now, tattooing is a trade; because of that, the paths that one must take in order to achieve it is both better for those who can get in and worse for people who should not be giving people pieces of art that they will carry their whole lives.
Siobhan painted a new piece based on one they had done before, just for the fun of the experience we were in. The artwork was a black and white traditional tattoo-style piece. Mos was in the middle of a work he had been chipping away at for months: a pile of Kermit the Frogs. At first glance the piece interested us while he added layers of the perfect greens to it.
What became even more interesting was the name of the piece, which at first caught me off guard: “Wounded Child, No surviving family.” The name came from news reports from the war in Gaza. We've all seen the images of the children blown to bits, orphaned, and devastated by a war that does not consider them. Mos told us the visual of the Kermits was something very innocent he had seen in a toy store with his father when he was younger. He told us that he initially wanted the piece to be lighthearted—but as he painted, his exposure to the atrocities taking place on the other side of the world had a subconscious effect on his work, even if he hadn’t known it at first. In this way, the artist expresses themselves, with sometimes childlike naivety, only to be influenced by the environments around them.
The piece had a profound impact on us both. Mos told us as I clarified the title of the piece, “I really tried to make this one lighthearted, but it became much more serious because of my exposure to the news.”
“It is a tough thing to talk about, but it needs to be,” I responded.
“It isn't easier, but with this, I’m trying to make it easier to talk about,” he said.
As artists, this is the point of our existence.
—Mikey DZZZ
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