What happens when you are a strange man in a strange land? When different interacts with the unfamiliar? When you are the first artist of African descent to become an international star in the 'white art establishment'. There is no precedent. So what rule book do you follow? What rules do you play by? This was the life of Jean-Michele Basquiat.
Over the years, I've taken brief glimpses into Jean Michele's world. Last night, though, after seeing Tamra Davis’s new documentary, Jean-Michel Basquiat: The Radiant Child, with never before seen home video footage of him, I have a much, much deeper appreciation for who he was and what he brought to this world.
He was heralded as a genius. His playing field was expansive as he drew inspiration from Ancient Egypt, anatomy, Darwin, Bebop, Picasso and graffiti to name a few. These influences seem disparate, but on his canvases, intersections of these worlds were created. Their convergence allowed the remarkable to happen. Whether by intent, his Brooklyn upbringing or simply by the hand of God, Basquiat had a vocabulary all his own.
In 1983 (about five years before Jean Michele's death) a close and symbiotic relationship began forming between him and Andy Warhol (famous for converging the disparate worlds of pop-art and fine art); from Basquiat, Warhol drew energy and a link to the contemporary art scene. In return, Warhol gave his colleague a healthy-living spirit and business advice.
When thinking about this relationship, it brought to mind a quote of Andy Warhol's in which he says "being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. Making money is art...and good business is the best art." Now as much as I appreciated Basquiat's talents and revolutionary thinking, he had terrible business acumen. He kept his money hidden all over his apartment, never had a bank account and spent money on parties and heroin. Reading Warhols' words, if good business is the best art...Basquiat wasn't quite there.
As the movie title says he was a radiant child, but he was unable to become a radiant man. Brilliant in creativity but without the ability to thwart self-destruction. Without the personal tools to navigate the world of high art, his evolution was cut short.
When I wake up every morning, my thoughts are focused on the art of building my brand. Trying to establish a successful business that makes money, is creative and offers value to the world. So often this is not the case. Brands sell you style with no substance, goods with no aesthetics or efficiency with no soul. Unfortunate in each case.
It's difficult trying to strike that right balance. Knowing how to play to your strengths, while learning how to minimize your weaknesses.
When it comes down to it though, those who practice art (in its best sense) do this, at whatever cost, and in the process strive to produce a truly radiant brand.