“AFRO” by Paul Wolski.
I’ve got a thing for black women. No reason for raised eyebrows, unless because this admission comes from a gay guy. I guess my statement is not that unusual. I likely could flip through any gay man’s CD collection to find well-worn copies of anything recorded by Whitney, Tina or Diana — Ms. Ross if you’re nasty. Hey, I’ve got my share of diva music, too. There is an interesting chemistry that draws the Gays to dynamic black female entertainers. But my attraction goes beyond the realm of fandom to become inspiration, which ultimately finds its way to my art.
My Pop Art illustrations celebrate women. I’ve got a few male subjects in my gallery, but drawing women is just way more fun for me. My inspiration is no different than that of (mostly gay) male fashion designers who love to create by making women beautiful. As a child, from Disney princesses to Josie and the Pussycats, I have been drawn to drawing chicks, man. And my body of work for the last seven years reflects those inspirations through my stylized, often humorous, archetypal heroines.
For example, I was at the Atlanta airport when I encountered one my muses:
A diminutive Diva pulling her rolling suitcase in a floor-length duster, high heels boots and superfly sunglasses. Her crowning achievement was an afro so fierce, so fabulous, so grand that I’m sure it had its own ZIP code. She strutted down the concourse, and she owned the shit — and everyone knew it. I stood there and marveled at this one-woman parade, this force of nature in denim and snakeskin. The details were as fascinating as the sum of parts. I had to put her on paper. She became my next piece, simply titled “AFRO,” which is to date one of my most popular Alter Egos.
I think living in Atlanta for 12 years certainly has had something to do with my preference to muses of color. Getting past the surface of obvious physical beauty or exoticism that would inspire creation, I notice other qualities in black women that work their way into my art: strength, self possession, regal confidence, humor — and a big dose of attitude, baby. It’s those combined elements that make my drawings come alive and make people smile, because in it they see a truth. Maybe in my own filtered, white-boy way I’ve brought my best attempt at “soul” to the piece. These are women who celebrate themselves completely and make no apologies for who they are. For an artist it’s a powerful message to convey visually.
Now I’m in no way implying that black women have cornered the market on these traits or that women of other racial backgrounds are any less strong, confident, funny or laden with attitude. I love Rosie Perez, too. I just think it’s kinda interesting to note that a Caucasian, Polish gay guy got his groove by no vanilla means.
My explanations here may sound clumsy; that’s why I’m an artist, so I don’t have to write. But all I know is that when pencil hits paper, something is created that connects with the viewer. And as long as my funkadelic, afro-puff, take-no-B.S. characters ring true with people, I’m gonna lay down the boogie and draw those funky divas ’til I die.
