Times Square subway station, New York, NY., April 2016.
Ajuan Mance
Standing in front of Gomes Tire and Auto, at the corner of International and 50th St., Oakland, CA.
Ajuan Mance
Montgomery BART station, San Francisco, CA.
Ajuan Mance
This drawing is based on a brotha I saw in Alameda, sipping a smoothie outside Jamba Juice. I took a few liberties with his image, like making his hair reach about twice as high as it actually extended (he did have a lot of hair, though) and turning his smoothie into a glass of lemonade.*
Ajuan Mance
- I briefly considered using this piece for a lemon-themed art show, this past summer. In the end, though, I created a different drawing for that show.
If you go to the Peet’s Coffee on Fruitvale, right across from Farmer Joe’s Market, you will probably see this brother. You’ll see him holding court at a corner table, surrounded by people listening intently to his theories of hidden global networks and wide-reaching social change.
After noticing him for more than a year, I finally approached him and ask him if I could do a portrait. We didn’t speak for more than 10 minutes, but it was one of the most interesting conversations I’ve had in a while.
The man in this drawing told me I should refer to him as American Sultan, Dr. Bey. Dr. Bey is an unrepentant conspiracy theorist. But while most conspiracy theorists I’ve encountered lean toward the negative, Dr. Bey has an optimistic vision to share. He believes that recent events—like the activism surrounding the 2016 U.S. presidential election, the changes in the Congress, and shifts in leadership and migration worldwide–are ushering in a new era of positive social transformation. In our relatively brief conversation, Dr. Bey told a tale that wove the campaigns of Bernie Sanders and Hilary Clinton, the waves of migrants leaving North Africa, and the leadership of Germany and France into a sweeping vision of a coming golden age; and he did all of this at a time when the most optimistic and progressive thinkers have lost all sense of hope.
Since I spoke with Dr. Bey, I’ve returned to Peet’s coffee several times. He’s always there, wearing his fez and surrounded by a diverse group of admirers. As curious as I am to hear his theory of the moment, I am usually in a hurry; and to really have the true Dr. Bey experience, you need to take your time.
Ajuan Mance
This is a portrait of Bay Area African American artist Courageous. One of the most talented and prolific artists I’ve ever encountered, Courageous works in paint, sculpture, pencil, and even furniture making. It seems that every time I see one of his new works, it reveals another medium or subject in which he has achieved artistic excellence.
Check out his Mesart website for an overview of his work. Click through the portfolio pages, and linger for a while. The works on this site provide just a glimpse of Courageous’s range, but you’ll clearly see that this is an artist who embraces risk, who has carefully honed his technique, and whose love of Blackness knows no bounds.
Ajuan Mance
Another attendee at a Comic Art Museum draw-in event held at the Museum of the African Diaspora.
Ajuan Mance
An attendee at a Comic Art Museum draw-in event held at the Museum of the African Diaspora.
Ajuan Mance
At Jim’s Coffee Shop, 2333 Lincoln Ave., Alameda, CA.
At Jim’s, early weekday mornings belong to old men. During breakfast, they fill the counter one at a time, and they file into the booths along the wall in small groups of two or three. Some of the men sit silently, speaking only to the servers, but some talk and laugh with each other.
Mornings at Jim’s are like happy hour for old men of the East Bay. Their breakfasts are long and leisurely, with plenty of refills on coffee and extra water for tea. They come early for the food and drinks, and stay late for the company.
Ajuan Mance
I love doing portraits of the peopleI see at Oakland’s main post office. It’s one of those places where you can encounter a true cross-section of the Black residents of the city. This drawing was months in the making. I did the outline sketch in Decemer 2015; but I didn’t get around to adding color and a background until last week.
The man in this drawing was easily the tallest person in a long line customers that extended almost to the door; he was also, the most striking. He was under-dressed for the weather, in short sleeves and no jacket; and he handled the two large cardboard boxes he’d come to mail like they were nearly weightless. Among the rest of us tired-looking, box-lugging folks, he positively emanated energy and life.
In creating the drawings in this series, I’ve had to think a lot about male beauty, and especially Black male beauty. I’ve given a lot of thought to question of what makes a man beautiful, above and beyond physical qualities like symmetry or an impressive hairline (think Grey’s Anatomy). I think the Post Office patron in this drawing exemplified the substance of male beauty–confidence, effortlessness, energy, and comfort in your own skin.
Ajuan Mance
Did I mention that I’ve spent the last several years trying to become an expert on Buffalo chicken wings? My path to achieving this involved setting out to eat Buffalo wings at 50 different restaurants. (Some time, this week or next, I will finally have achieved that goal.)
Becoming an expert on Buffalo wings means also becoming something of an expert on sports bars and sports-themed restaurants. I’ve eaten at sports bars and restaurants from coast to coast. Highlights include the Old Town Bar and Restaurant in Manhattan, NY; Champs in State College, PA; Ricky’s Sports Theater in San Leandro, CA; and High Tops in San Francisco.
While each of these restaurants is unique, High Tops is the newest the four, and it’s the only one that caters to a gay clientele. Located in the Castro Neighborhood of San Francisco, it has some of the best bar food I’ve ever eaten. It also has some of the most athletic-looking customers I’ve ever seen at a sports bar.
The man in this drawing stood out, not because he was any more or less muscular and well-groomed than the rest, but because he was Black, in a bar with relatively few Black people of any sex or gender. Then again, the Castro is a neighborhood with relatively few Black people of any sex or gender; but I always forget that, until I’m in the area.
Ajuan Mance
James Baldwin has an amazing quote about old black men, from his essay, “Letter from the South”:
At Peter’s Kettle Corn, MacArthur Blvd.
I crossed paths with this brother at Farmer Joe’s Market, where he was narrating his way through the produce section. He wasn’t talking to himself; he was sharing his opinion on the price, the quality, and the uses of all the fruits and vegetables with whoever seemed willing to listen. I smiled and nodded politely as he picked up a large red bell pepper and said to me, “Now that’s what I call a vegetable!” Around the corner, I saw him waving a bundle of lemongrass at an elderly couple, saying, ” This is good with everything. You wouldn’t think so, but it is.” As I moved into the dairy section, I could still hear him behind me, telling someone that he’d always thought cauliflower looked like brains.
Ajuan Mance
At the “Making a Scene” exhibit opening, SOMArts, San Francisco, summer 2015.
At the “Making a Scene Opening,” SOMArts, summer 2015.
At the Seventh Street Post Office, Oakland, California.
At the American Museum of Natural History, in the Hall of Primitive Mammals, New York, NY.
This is one of my favorite drawings, of a friend I will refer to by his online pseudonym, Atypical. This year was Atypical’s 28th birthday, and his partner commissioned this portrait as one of his gifts. He was a pleasure to draw, and his great smile is just a reflection of his warm spirit. Plus, he’s into robots, which is one of the coolest things I learned about him in the drawing process.
Happy belated birthday, Atypical!
Ajuan Mance
Starbucks Cafe, Rancho Cordova, California.
Ajuan Mance
This is a portrait from an overnight trip I made with my fabulous partner to Rancho Cordova, a small community outside of Sacramento. The area felt both rural and suburban, at the same time. I had the feeling it was mostly a community of 9-to-5 working folks, because the sidewalks were empty, and even the Starbucks was mostly deserted. It was nothing like San Francisco, where shops and cafes are full at all hours of the day.
Of the people I did encounter, few of them were Black, and so I felt compelled to draw at least a couple of the Black people I did see. I started my day at Brookfield’s, the kind of classic, old school family restaurants that attracts classic, old school patrons.
Ajuan Mance
Telegraph Avenue, near Cafe Flora, Oakland, CA.
Every Black man I see in a hoodie looks like a hero to me.
Ajuan Mance
Strand Bookstore, New York, NY, April 2016.
Ajuan Mance
Ajuan Mance
At the Kehinde Wiley exhibit, Spring 2015, Brooklyn, New York.
Ajuan Mance
On the subway, New York, NY.
One of the reasons it’s taken me such a long time to complete the last 40-some-odd drawings in my 1001 Black men series is that I’ve had the opportunity to create several new pieces and a new issue of my comic book, all for events taking place this summer.
I feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to show my work to so many people. Art has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and I treasure every chance I’ve gotten to share my it with others.
I also think, though, that a part of what has kept me from finishing the series is that I don’t really want to say goodbye to this project. I don’t believe I’ll ever again undertake the task of doing such a lengthy project, and yet it’s been such a big part of my life that I don’t really know what my life would look without a challenge like this.
No matter what my imagination brings me, in terms of future projects, I will miss the way this series has changed the way I look and myself and my place in the world, in my city, and in my Black community.
Ajuan Mance
On the New York Subway, April 2016.
I love riding commuter trains, whether its BART in the San Francisco Bay Area, the subway in New York City, the T in Boston, or the Metro in Washington, DC. I like it because riding public transportation is often easier, especially if you don’t enjoy circling the block in search of parking. It also provides me with a block of time in which the wi-fi is either spotty or nonexistent, so I can do nothing but read or listen to music.
The main reason I like commuter trains, though, is because riding them makes me feel like a grownup. That might sound peculiar, coming from someone who is less than two months away from turning 50. But, if you grew up on Long Island, like I did, it might make a little more sense. You see, when I was a kid, the Long Island Railroad (LIRR) was primarily a commuter pipeline, shuttling working men (and I use the word men quite literally) from the bedroom communities of Long Island to their offices in Manhattan. Unlike its bigger sister, the New York subway system, which really, truly served the masses, kids usually only rode the LIRR on fieldtrips to Manhattan; and when we got on board, we were surrounded mostly by men in their business suits, briefcases at their side, reading the Wall Street Journal or The New York Times on their way to work. For me, riding the LIRR into Manhattan, carrying a briefcase, reading the paper, and looking very important and serious was what adulthood was all about. Because he worked on Long Island and not in The City, my dad didn’t take the railroad, but, every morning, after reading the paper over breakfast, he would pick up his briefcase, put on the last piece of his suit (the jacket), and head out to the car to do the other thing that felt really adult to me, drive the Long Island Expressway to work.
Luck would have it that I’ve never lived more than two miles away from any place I’ve worked, and so I’ve never really had a commute of any kind. Maybe that’s why I can romanticize the idea of depending on public transit. It still feels to me like the people who pick up their briefcases and hop on the train to get to their places of work are having one of those singular adult experiences that I have not. This is not to say that, living in the Bay Area and seeing the stress and the cost of commuting, I actually want a longer ride to work. I know how good I have it, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Still, it’s fun to hop on the commuter train and feel like a real grownup, every now and then.
Ajuan Mance
Here’s another portrait from outside the Honey Bistro Restaurant. While the brother in the previous post drew my attention because of his audacious style of dress (fake fur on a not-particularly-cold day), I was drawn to this guy’s nerdiness. It felt so very relatable, Indeed, looking at him with his glasses, his double chin and his Eisenhower jacket was a little like looking into a slightly warped mirror.
Ajuan Mance
