Tamir Rice, a child victim of the Blue Holocaust

When they come, black booted and their sirens blazing, the community shuts its doors and draws its curtains tight. To the neighborhood, emergency sounds mean another black boy may die tonight.
On November 22, 2014, Tamir Rice was shot and killed by two police officers.
Tamir was in a park, with his toy gun. When the call was made to emergency services, Tamir was described as “a male sitting on a swing and pointing a gun at people,” “probably a juvenile.” Tamir was fired upon twice, fatally struck once in the torso. The investigation into Tamir’s death is ongoing but failures of justice and controversy surrounding police-involved deaths of other African American children has caused unrest in neighborhoods throughout the United States.

Tamir was 12 years old. This occurred in Cleveland, Ohio.

Hands up. Don’t shoot. 

The above was excerpted from the full statement on #BlueHolocaust. The original watercolor and ink paintings have shown in various locations throughout Southern California. 


Art to End Violence displays in Los Angeles

#ArtToEndViolence will be on display at gallery 825 in Los Angles from December 12 to Jan 8, 2016.

Winner, Award of Excellence in Fine Art, Watercolors, California State Fair, 2015
Winner, Award of Excellence in Fine Art, Watercolors, California State Fair, 2015

I was 18 years old, freshly starting college when Matthew Shepard was lured, beaten, tortured and left to die in a field outside of Laramie, Wyoming.

I was still a year away from coming out but I knew by then that I was gay. So did everyone else (they just had the good sense to let me develop at my own pace).

My mother and father were especially protective during this time. I remember my mom not wanting me (an 18 year old boy!) to be out after 10pm. For a time they both checked in more than normal.

I, of course, was terrified. I was afraid of people finding out. I was horrified that something like this could happen. But I was also blessed. My parents became protective. My friends became supportive. And I hadn’t done anything. A cute, skinny boy had been killed a thousand miles away and I was cocooned as a teenager. Jadin Bell wasn’t.

Fast forward to the early hours of January 19, 2013; I’m 32, nearing the end of my time as a teacher. Later that year a parent will threaten me and shout homophobic slurs in front of 300 first, second, and third graders. But that morning, Jadin Bell, a 15 year old boy, makes the decision to take his own life. He had been relentlessly bullied, online and to his person, by peers and adults with little intervention.

 This happened in my country; the home of the free and the land of the brave.

I taught in public schools for a decade; during that time I had a few hundred children. They’re all mine. All teachers, even the reformed, feel very possessive of even their most difficult students. I adored mine. And they would come to school each morning and tell me stories of their lives. These stories were different from stories I knew.

They would tell me of their parents being arrested. The police would come in the night, guns drawn and take mom or dad away. They would tell me of being pulled over and having to wait on the side of the road while their cars were searched. Their backpacks were spilled open too.

And on February 26, 2012 (I’m 31 and I teach first grade), a grown man follows a 17 year old boy and kills him in ‘self defense.’ Trayvon Martin had just bought candy from a local store. He looks like a boy I know.

My friends started telling stories now and I discovered that I don’t know a single person of dark skin who has not had a gun pulled on them (many by police and in urban centers). These are my friends and family. These are people from all walks of life, from high school drop outs to Ivy League grads, AND every single one of them has had a gun drawn and pointed in their direction.

I know guns. I grew up with guns. I’ve had guns in my possession while in the presence of police. I have NEVER had a gun drawn on me. On August 9, 2014, Michael Brown was fatally shot by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri (I’m nearly 34, an author and artist). Now, acquaintances start telling stories – one man was walking down a major street when three police cars suddenly surround him and the officers jump out, weapons drawn. He ‘looked’ like the suspect. Or of times they’d been pulled over, handcuffed at gun point and searched, all the while being called ‘boy.’ These examples occurred in Los Angeles.

And other stories start to appear on social media. Suddenly I see people I know, people from all walks of life – high school drop outs to Ivy League grads – share about ‘losing rights’ and ‘protecting religious freedom’ and ‘standing their ground.’ And I’m made afraid all over again. I feel the same sense of horror I felt when Matthew Shepard was discovered. The faces in these paintings – these stories – could be my students or my friends; they could easily be me.

It’s like anew every time another sweet boy is pushed to suicide, such as Tyler Clementi who was 18 years old when he jumped from the George Washington Bridge on September 22, 2010. I had just celebrated my 30th birthday; he had been publicly outed and shamed on campus and across social media.

It’s like anew when the body of a young woman is found. Transgender women, such as Gwen Araujo, who was beaten to death by four men on October 3, 2002, have 1 in 12 rate of violent mortality in the United States (I was 22 at the time and the hardest thing I had to do was break up with my boyfriend). Ty Underwood, the second trans woman to be murdered this year in the US, was found shot to death on January 26, 2015. Blake Brockington, an 18 year old transgender teen killed himself this week. I don’t want to hear that we’ve ‘come a long way since Angie Zapata‘ (who was beaten and bludgeoned to death on July 15, 2008).

Until violent deaths stop, we will not have come far enough.

Suicide rates among gay and transgender teens are unacceptable. Police violence against minorities (and the lack of accurate reporting and statistics) is reprehensible. Violence motivated by hate is unconscionable.

Though these stories terrify, though they stain the picket fences surrounding our star-spangled fields, they also transform and offer the opportunity for renewal.

These paintings are about awareness. As an artist and a teacher it is my duty to inform and transform. These paintings and their stories are my way of highlighting wrongdoing. They are my way of subverting what is so that we can create a world in which no teenager feels the need to take their life because of difference, where people can walk the streets of their neighborhoods without fear of gun violence REGARDLESS of the color of their skin, and where no one’s life is believed to be ‘less than human.’

These are stories of our own loss and shame. I challenge you to face them. I challenge you to share your own stories. We cannot fix the world by staying quiet.

Because these voices have been silenced, we must be compelled to speak.


I am at the center of the piece, treated in the same way as the silenced. The thoughts above are (with some editing) the same as those written around my head. They are certainly written on my mind.
I am at the center of the piece, treated in the same way as the silenced. The thoughts above are (with some editing) the same as those written around my head. They are certainly written on my mind.
Black lives matter.
Trans lives matter.
Gay lives matter.
Click on a portrait to read more:

Michael's portrait reads: On August 9, 2014, Michael Brown was fatally shot by Darren Wilson, an on duty police officer. Dispute regarding the circumstances of the shooting resulted in civil unrest across the nation and revealed systemic racism among local police, calling into question other cases of police violence against minorities. Michael Brown was 18 years old. This occurred in Ferguson, Missouri.

Jadin's portrait reads: On January 19, 2013, Jadin Bell hanged himself in the playground of an elementary school. He dies on February 3, 2013 after being taken off life support. Jadin's death was widely reported upon, placing national attention on the personal and internet bullying that drove him to suicide. Jadin was 15 years old. This occurred in La Gande, Oregon. Angie's portrait reads: On July 15, 2008, Angie Zapata was beaten and bludgeoned to death after Allen Andrade, her murderer, discovered she was transgender. He had referred to Angie as an 'it' in his arrest affidavit. Andrade was found guilty of first degree murder and hate crimes - the first time a trans murder received this distinction. Angie was 18 years old. This occurred in Greeley, Colorado. #ArttoEndViolenceMSWatermarked#ArttoEndViolenceGAWatermaked