BLM resident artist, pierre bennu uses humor, music and the creative tools of childhood to consider and explore social norms. Drawing from the graffiti, sampling and griot traditions, he works to connect discarded technologies and cultural artifacts, weaving ancestral stories into an ever evolving future archaeology. pierre’s vision fosters a lifestyle support community that encourages us to live our most creative lives. Creativity is self care.
Through this sampling of pieces from the series “1987� we get a visual meditation on the characters, people & icons who populated a landmark year in the childhood of the artist.
The DJ
The DJ was the soundtrack of a movement. The DJ was the shaman, the religious leader. The DJ give the preacher permission to MC. The DJ called out to you and you called back. The DJ’s clergy carried crates. The DJ was the holder of the drum, the drum that unified, the drum that silenced the screams and sirens and horns. The DJ changed reality. The DJ time traveled & resurrected ancestors that left us their sounds on plates the darkness of the many night skies between us. The DJ looked at no one. The DJ was ageless. The DJ came from nowhere and returned to nowhere like the silence between sounds. The DJ sometimes wore furry Kangol hats. The DJ made me smile.
BLM resident artist, pierre bennu uses humor, music and the creative tools of childhood to consider and explore social norms. Drawing from the graffiti, sampling and griot traditions, he works to connect discarded technologies and cultural artifacts, weaving ancestral stories into an ever evolving future archaeology. pierre’s vision fosters a lifestyle support community that encourages us to live our most creative lives. Creativity is self care.
Through this sampling of pieces from the series “1987� we get a visual meditation on the characters, people & icons who populated a landmark year in the childhood of the artist.
The DJ
The DJ was the soundtrack of a movement. The DJ was the shaman, the religious leader. The DJ give the preacher permission to MC. The DJ called out to you and you called back. The DJ’s clergy carried crates. The DJ was the holder of the drum, the drum that unified, the drum that silenced the screams and sirens and horns. The DJ changed reality. The DJ time traveled & resurrected ancestors that left us their sounds on plates the darkness of the many night skies between us. The DJ looked at no one. The DJ was ageless. The DJ came from nowhere and returned to nowhere like the silence between sounds. The DJ sometimes wore furry Kangol hats. The DJ made me smile.