Maurice Washington

Both my dad and my grandmother were very big. They were very spiritual. And my dad always loves to say that he is so heavenly bound that he's no longer earthly good. And I'll be like: ‘Put that on a T-shirt.’ My dad was incarcerated from when I was four until I was 13. I spent some time with my grandmother, but much of my relationship with him was while he was incarcerated. What comes to mind when I think about them? Definitely strength and resilience. Boldness, black beauty. I think about oppression. I think about arts and creativity. Because my dad is also a painter. When he was in jail, he was so afraid of all these years that he was going to serve, and he met a painter, and the painter taught him patience through painting. 

With a lot of oppression comes a lot of sadness. My dad is very emotional. You would never know it, because the exterior is shelled, but he's really emotional. And he's one of those black people who believes in hope. So I love when he paints and how he paints, because you can see a softer, more sensitive side to him. He is out now. He is still a painter. He will be a painter until he dies. He absolutely loves painting. That is just his passion. His purpose. And as many struggles as he has had in his life, I feel like painting is a space where he's really able to be seen.