You Not Gonna Waste My Time!

african art

The unpleasant side of being an artist is having to deal with all the flakes and foolery from folks who pretend that they are interested in buying. I used to entertain conversations with anyone who made a statement about my work, especially on social media. But these days I have very guarded with my time and the emotional conversation pertaining to my art.


I had to deal with a very combative troll a few weeks ago asking me why I don’t paint boys in my art. I simply said “Because I do what I want to do!” But he kept igging me on, trying to figure out if I’m some closet feminist man hater. I assumed because I didn’t have any pictures up with men. (I’ve never paraded my relationships on social media and I never will.) But I got hot about this because as an artist, I don’t have to ‘answer’ to anyone about why I do what I do. I never heard anyone ask an artist who only paints animals why they don’t paint people or artists who paint nature scenes why they don’t paint skyscrapers!!

And its always these mother suckers that what to make ‘suggestions’ about what you should add to your body of work: but if you added it for their sake, they still wouldn’t or probably could afford to buy from you. They are energy drainers indeed and I immediately put the brakes on when I see them. Everyone who ‘likes’ your work is NOT your market. And I had to learn that the hard way.


OMG! that conversation took all the restraint I had left and there wasn’t much to begin with. I told this girl the price of an original art piece and she goes into a whole dialog about being a young mother, not a corporate CEO and she wanted the painting for her daughter. Then she continues by asking about my pricing structure. I told her that I offered her the option of buying a print which was more within range of what she could afford, I even offered a payment plan for the original! And she was still yapping about pricing.

I politely told her that I don’t based my price or alter it because someone has a low paying job, or unemployed, or plan to give to their 1 year old daughter… That has nothing to do with me. By the end of the conversation, what she wanted was to license the art piece and she thought by buying the original that it gave her the right to reproduce it!! WTF!!! LOL SHe came back a few minutes later with the “My boyfriend said I was wrong and owed you an apology”.. Uh Yeah Whatever.

Needless to say, I had to fall back.. I mean waaaaay back from all the noise. I don’t allow people to gets minutes of my time when it starts with me having to alter anything. I see people try to play the emotional game and I guess that works for some, but I am very clear on the ‘why’ of my art business. Im not conflicted at all about the value I bring to the world…

~Salkis Re

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New Beginnings or New Being: Both

Freeform locs

I’ve had to do some deep soul searching lately. To uncover the hidden things within my heart. I think opening up is a way to release the pressure that comes from being ‘private’ which is just another word for ‘hiding’. I think a lot of it is just fear that you can be easily made into a puppet, but I came to the conclusion that every institution from universities to jobs use us as puppets anyway. It just doesn’t feel as bad cause you can save for a vacation and maybe qualify for government aid in the form of more debt like student loans etc.

So I decided to revisit my ego and all the built up protection I’ve accumulated over the years and released that I made bad decisions out of the fear and shame that comes with hiding. The prison from having to cover a lie with another lie was making it hard for my heart to soar. And all the people that I admired and looked up to were always very candid about their lives:it was like they were telling a story about someone else, that’s how detached they were from all of it.

I’m a creative person, a passionate person, intuitive through and through but trauma of hurt and disappointment made me question all those attributes about me:until now.
So I will express my life and my thoughts in an artful way.

Lay Your Head on My Pillow

freeform locs

Im sitting by my window listening to Al Green song “For the Good Times”… And I could feel the sweet pain in the words. “Make Believe you love me”, he sings… How many of us would rather make believe we are loved just to have the closeness, that pleasure of a skilled lover. I’ve even been told to just ‘Enjoy the Moment”. But they never tell you that you’re on your own when you get up from the bed… SO many of us make deals with the devil. Promising to tend to the logic of the situation after the last thrust of a throbbing penis pounding our slippery walls.

You know you have to wake up to the reality of what this thang is, but your ego tells your vagina that it’s sugary goodness could change your fate. So many of us get caught up and crossed wires thinking that sexual chemistry equates to some sort of cosmic bond. A good dick can confuse you for sure. But its the hours on your feet, with your panties still attached that let you know what real.

When a person is not in ecstasy  but still takes your hand and rocks you slow. When he calls to check if you made it home and talks about future plans with you then you know its not just that you can make him cum hard or that he hits your spot. Sometimes someone could fuck the shit out of you as a way of ‘trying’ to forget someone else. Sometimes your snatch is being slam ducked because you were the only one that answered your damn phone at 1 a.m.

Sex can be therapy indeed, but I’m not partial to being choochie medication for a man. I don’t want to be a cum dumpster for stress and strain of life. I want a happy man on top of me every time. I want my pussy to be a celebration of good fortune and love. I think that is why don’t think recent sex brings people closer together.

~Salkis Re


A Dark skin Girl Dating Blues

I was a teen in the 80’s and 90’s and it was hard getting a guy to like you if you were a dark girl back then . I remember begging my friends to talk to their boyfriends to see if they could convince one if them to come to talk to me. That was the aim; I just wanted to be seen walking with a guy and then maybe I would stop feeling like I had two heads.

I’d sit in my friends bedroom while she called her boyfriend up and ask him about this guy or that who she thought would be nice for me to date. It was obvious what was being asked on t he other end cause my friend would say “Well yeah she is dark skin but she is pretty! No! No! I serious! She is pretty. I bite my nails and pace the floor hoping to pass the preliminary interview my friend conducted on my behalf.

I’d be humiliated every time but it was more embracing being the only one among the crew that never had a valentine chocolate or some door knocker earrings as birthday gift.i was the sarcastic sidekick that held everybody coat and purses when they were busy getting their foreplay on.

The dates I managed to get all treated me exactly like what I was: a charity case. What made matters worse was that I refused to have sex. I don’t think the choice to abstain was always moral; I was fucking scared and I didn’t want to be hurt. Even with all my desperation back then, somehow I always knew that having sex with those dudes would be the last nail in the coffin. After all, I had to keep what dignity I had left…

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The First Time I Had Sex

African Artist

Gosh… I remember it like yesterday. I was 18, naive, low self esteem and scared to death. There was a lot of grunting and pushing and quite a bit of pain. I remember laying there not understanding why I wasn’t feeling good. I kept hoping that it would start feeling like ecstasy I heard so much about. Blood on the bed confirmed my status as my man got up and looked at the bed and me and said “Oh! Your were a virgin for real?”

I was devastated, ashamed, and confused. What do I do now?, I thought. It seems like forever just to finish zipping up my paints. My shame quickly turned to anger though. Not only did he think I was lying about being a virgin, he was insensitive to boot. “Did you cum?, he asked anxiously. Like I knew what the fuck that was. I lied. “Yeah I came twice!”, I said.He smiled and gave me cab money to go home.

I thought about it the whole ride home. I gave up my jewels for this shit!! All my friends got at least 4 years of fucking under their belt and I waited for this? I should have fucked Buster when I had the chance. I used to cut school and go to his apartment in the projects. He would dry hump me for hours cause I refused to take off my pants, He would even cum too,lol That was crazy how I could make him cum fully dressed.. Sigh…
I’d give anything to have my first time back again..I think I deserve a do-over…

I’ve been chasing that do-over ever since…

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