All about Keith.

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He was a Genius and a social activist. His silent, yet still art was given a voice. A voice that screamed loudly through streets and pierced violently through years.

He was too big for Reading, Pennsylvania. He was, however, the perfect size for the mean but very educating streets of New York City. His love for professional art faded like colours of a paintbrush that hadn't been dipped since the last stroke.

The canvas of his mind rediscovered its colours with a new form of art, an art that rose from the streets: Graffiti.

Formed out of the belly of hip hop that had been impregnated by the inner city, graffiti allowed him to master his pop art, making the subways his art galleries.

His skill landed him around the likes of Madonna and another street artist by the name of Jean Michel Basquiat, and in his short career he also got to know Andy Warhol as well. I've always heard about these greats but I never got to see too much of their work. Always heard of Haring and was always curious. Little did I know an outing to Macy's would open my eyes wide to who he was. I saw a pair of shoes that caught my eye as well as my interest.

I inquired about sizing and price. To my luck they didn't have my size, considering the price tag.

I went deeper into asking who designed the shoe and why was the price so high. I was told they were from an artist named Keith, Keith Haring.

I heard of the name but I didn't care about him being an artist, I cared about why the price of his shoe was so high. I put the shoe down upset as if I knew Keith and he owed me a favour. I quickly went back to the lounge in my place and I got to the Google quickly. It gave me facts on this Keith Haring individual that I was prepared to be unimpressed with. But that didn't happen. My eyes read fact after fact, opening wider and wider with astonishment. Reading testimonies of people that were present during Keith's strokes of genius makes me almost jealous, or at least jealous that I wasn't around to witness them for myself.

Going through Keith's work, it makes me a fan for sure. But it is said that all good things must come to an end and on Febuary 16th, the vibrant colour of Keiths life had dried up. He died of Aids complications and that was another feeling inside of me in itself.
Just like that he was stolen. Erased.

It took my mind off of his art and put my mind on what i could do to help anyone going through things like this. How could I prevent it.

I felt like my way of "preventing it" was showing everyone this geniuses work and telling them what caused his demise.

I let them make their own decisions and hoping, hoping and praying that the next Haring doesn't slip from our fingers.