On Roses Growing from Cement, and a Sub-Textual Love Letter to Atlanta— Jamie Brown Jr. Interview
The Mastermind (dubbed by those around him) speaks with Gauchito Media’s Greg Pando Pöesz on his art, upbringing, and project, Forty Under Forty.
Jamie in his safe space his dorm, photo by Greg Pando Pöesz
I often sit and wonder (perhaps on the verge of sleep, or in the shower) about an optional essay question given to me by my 8th-grade History teacher on the European Renaissance. While the test prompted us to ponder on the ‘Old Continent’s’ affluence, the great cultural revolution for, primarily, Catholic art, or the significance behind what it means to be a “Renaissance Man”, the single query in between the amalgamate of these that stole my attention, and still bobs to the top of my conscious is whether those that partook in the Renaissance were aware they were living in a time of great artistic prosperity. Today, I am convinced they had some sort of idea about what was going on.
Since I moved to Atlanta in September of ’24, I’ve fallen into a strange love affair with a city that cannot be described through speech. The mere attempt would result in verbose prose, reminiscent of that of a poem, and that’s not what we’re here to do. It seems to me, much like it must’ve happened to those who lived through moments of great artistic and cultural change, that I can feel Atlanta is amid an artistic metamorphosis. A mixture produced from an intersection between America’s powerhouse of Hip-Hop and migrating filmmakers, influenced by local Government film tax incentives, creating a so-called “Hollywood of the South”. But the city’s artistic antics surpass just big business.
If you take a walk through the city, you’ll see murals and street art that generate immersive spaces for one to get lost in. Institutions such as The High Art Museum (which houses pieces that could go neck to neck with those found at the MoMA, the Guggenheim (LA & New York), the Whitney, etc…) have the unique privilege to display contemporary pieces that reflect the city’s legacy of radical creativity, which dates as far back as the Civil Rights Movement. You’d witness film sets, photoshoots, fairs, and expositions among all sorts of artists in a holy union of mojo and Zeitgeist. It’s safe to say that Atlanta is no stranger to innovation, nor are her locals, so it isn’t a surprise when I meet so many visionaries at SCAD, an institution dedicated to creation, standing as one of the many emblems of this primordial Atlantan characteristic.
The Atlantan creative is so impactful, in my opinion, that it should make locals of the other great artistic hubs in the world (Los Angeles, Paris, London, New York, etc…) rethink what it means to be an artist living within a context of mass creation through a culture of efficiency, passion, and devotion, factors the great “Meccas” of art have forgotten.
Looking for individuals that fit within Atlanta’s equivalent of the “Renaissance Individual,” today, another denomination to those working behind the curtains of the projects that surround us, one might find many who allure the part, but to fit is very different from being. During my first week at SCAD, I was witness to a very peculiar scene: A mass of students dressed in white, mobilizing in unison to a photoshoot no less. Intrigued, I followed after the mass like a wolf behind a herd of sheep. It was there I met Jamie for the first time. I watched him brief those in white about what their task was. From afar, I couldn’t make out what the actual cause of all this was, but what I could make out was the charismatic leader at its center, Jamie, quick with a joke and sharp with his vision. From afar, I could tell he was an Atlantan creative. The word “hustle” was metaphysically spelled out across his concentrated brows. The project seemed to revolve around the concept of the promotion of different groups of artists through a combined platform. Simple enough? Perhaps, but there’s a large difference between dreaming of something and making that something come true.
Brown posing for the camera, photo by Greg Pando Pöesz
Through a shared interest in art and photography and an equal enjoyment in dissecting the artist’s mission and their involvement with their work, Jamie and I clicked. It seemed every time I bumped into him, most of those while working on organizing a photoshoot or elaborating on an idea, he was just as up and ready to discuss and debate as ever. The fact is that Jamie is just as persevering and clever up-close as he is when directing projects. Eventually, I started tossing around the concept of interviewing him and learning a bit more about him and his project “Forty Under Forty”. Soon enough, after beating around the bush like a middle schooler trying to ask out his crush, I worked up my confidence and proposed the idea. This was followed by a formal invitation to his residence (located on the 7th floor) where I was to meet him and where he’d give me his time.
Jamie’s room is full of guys very much like him, but each with his specialty. The latter is best shown by the unintentional decor left around the room: Lenses, cameras, batteries, sketchbooks, printed photography, and all sorts of artistic paraphernalia.
Before I took out my photo camera and started recording audio, I took a moment to acknowledge that there had been a slight change in Jamie’s demeanor, causing a slight relief within the room. It seemed to me that he was excited, not hesitant or nervous, as if ready to open up.
Business as usual, photo by Greg Pando Pöesz
To start, I quipped that I would hope to see him chat as much here as he usually does (he did not disappoint) and asked where he inherited the public speaking from “Well, I’m a ‘Junior’ because my dad is also Jamie Brown. He’s great at talking with people.” I inquired if he thought he and his father were alike, “I learned that Jamie means he who supplants, which means ‘to give.’ I kind of see that in him, too. Growing up, I would like to think I’d live up to my name’s meaning.”
“Are you a frequent searcher for meaning? Perhaps, in the looking-glass of life?”
Jamie smiled, “I’d like to think that I take my lived experiences or learned lessons, and what they mean, to heart. Especially if I’m looking to repurpose them within my art,” he paused to think, “I’m a big believer in the existence of substance within my art.” I asked him to elaborate on what he meant. “The older I got, the better I got at drawing, right? In the sense that if we devote enough practice to something, we’re bound to improve concerning form, not essence. I believe essence to be separate from form.”
Apart from being a talented artistic director, Brown is also a gifted painter and graphic artist. He shares the latter with the world through a self-proposed challenge called “30 drawings in 30 days” on his professional Instagram (@jbtheemastermind). As someone with little to no skill with a pencil, let alone a paintbrush, I was curious to know when Jamie was able to recognize his artistic ease. “It has always been simple for me to put pen to paper and make something, but I think the big change for me was figuring out how to add substance and value to my work.” He continues, “At an early age, art seemed to come to me as second nature (…) I’ve been drawing for as long as I can remember. It was when I asked myself the question of ‘why’ I wanted to make art that I made the lane switch to perhaps more profound pieces.”
“A mother’s nature“, by Jamie Brown Jr.
Jamie’s first painting — an emotional oil piece on a mother’s relationship with her children and the importance of her presence within the household — was part of this fundamental change in mentality, “My freshman year biology teacher wanted an art piece that represented his gratitude for his mother growing up. (…) That was my first actual piece with substance, in my opinion. (…) I just knew that I wanted it to be something meaningful and impactful.”
Brown elaborated on his process, “I sketched out a few ideas relating to a mother’s love, and I came up with this concept tied to the word in ‘unruly,’ like a garden. My go-to was the depiction of her as a part of life within her space. I portrayed her as a plant surrounded by life, growing and influencing regardless of the dead surroundings and context.”
“In reflection, I realized the meaning was projected onto me within the act of creating, in the sense that it was more meaningful for me to create
when it meant something to someone, much like my teacher’s mother.”
“Bankhead’s Concrete Rose“, By Jamie Brown Jr.
Considering the body of work Jamie had shown me, I felt his reflection was carried onto his next painting: A depiction of his uncle’s barber shop, the now-closed “TruTecNeeks,” with an interesting visual metaphor referencing another black artist, Tupac Shakur. “I had this picture in my phone, that would pop up frequently. The more I’d see it, the more images would start flowing in my head. I felt something was calling to me to make the painting, so I decided my theme would be family. (…) I didn’t know how long it was gonna take me. It also helped that I was originally making the painting for the SCAD Challenge,” a scholarship-intended program, “which gave me even more incentive to want to put my idea on the canvas.”
The painting is a clear ode to Jamie’s uncle and what his barber shop meant for the surrounding community, with its dream-like image of roses tangling around the subjects. “What did you want to transmit with the roses?”
“The roses signify love and strength. I was also referencing Tupac Shakur’s poem, ‘The Rose That Grew From Concrete.’ (…) I took my love for what the flowers meant in the first place, as well as the love breathed into the poem, and I merged them to create ‘Bankhead’s Concrete Rose.’.”
In the poem, Shakur touches on the neglect of culture, community, and art and the struggle to rise above it. Jamie shares his sentiments about this, “People can go on with their day-to-day lives without understanding what’s in front of them has love in it. (Referring to the barbershop) People felt comfortable bringing their kids and having a good time. (…) It brought people together. It was a place of gathering, and it went unnoticed. (…) Eventually, rent got too high, and my uncle had to let it go.”
G: It really was a rose growing in a jungle of cement, no?
Jamie grins teary-eyed, a face flushed by a cocktail of nostalgia and melancholy.
J: It definitely was.
G: How did the loss of the barber shop affect the community and then you personally?
J: It was devastating. My community is primarily black, and I felt that when it was still open, things like crime went down because there was a larger sense of coexistence. To me, the barbershop was also such a significant piece of my life because it also provided me with a lot of positive male figures. My uncle moved down from Macon, Georgia, and came to Atlanta, knowing that there were better opportunities, and started the barbershop with some friends. My dad was also involved as well. They’d make music, and they cut hair, make art, and with that came the birth of Jamie.
Waving his arms around in the air in a small fit of emotional reminiscence, Brown paints an image of what the place was like for him growing up “I have so many pictures at home, where I’m just like in like a full throwback 2000s fit. I’m just like this little itty-bitty kid, walking around and getting my first haircut. I had my first haircut there; I also was exposed to photography and art for the first time.”
The origin of the picture of which Jamie’s painting takes after comes at the end of this haven’s lifespan, a scene which recalls Brown’s last time visiting the barbershop, “It was just me, my dad, my uncle, my cousin. (…) It was quiet.” He throws himself back, closing his eyes and projecting the memory to himself so as to share it.
J: It was the first time in a long time that I saw my cousin and my uncle.
G: Like you say, it was a place of recurrence and gathering, no?
J: (echoing the question) Of recurring gathering. Intimate as always. The perfect goodbye.
“TruTecNeeks“ circa 2016.
Moving on from Jamie’s paintings, I wanted to get him to tell me what his most recent project, Forty Under Forty, was about. I was interested primarily in the fact that Jamie is not keen on taking any sort of credit for the idea, nor does he like being considered its main point of reference, “It’s a me thing. I don’t like the idea of being considered the individual who masterminded the whole thing — ‘who did this and that-, right? (…) I want to be known as simply Jamie, the one, Jamie Brown Jr., the one who managed to gather 39 other freshmen and create a beautiful project that signifies growth, opportunity, and development. And when I can be established as that individual, then I feel like I might take credit for it.”
Naturally, I wanted to hear Jamie elaborate on the project goals, “Forty Under Forty is a creative project geared towards promoting the young creative minds of SCAD Atlanta, regardless of the size of their exposure base, essentially amplifying their voice. For example, if we have somebody who does makeup, we would put out an ad on her page. Or my homeboys, Cam and Ken, make clothes, so we have a photoshoot where they have their clothes on, or like a brand campaign page for them to promote their work, all under the alias of Forty Under Forty, turning into a website catalog that promotes students.
“Do you think there is a difference between attending SCAD Atlanta and attending SCAD Savannah?” I asked, “Press and film festivals, and the fact that it’s the brand’s flagship campus. I wanted to bring more attention to Atlanta, for the love I have for it and the talent and promise that I see in the school that we go to now.”
Basking in the Moment, photo by Greg Pando Pöesz
I proposed Jamie think about the accumulation of his work, from his first painting to Forty Under Forty. Brown does the incredible, tying his body of work together via portraying success over adversity within a social context while praising those who do it. On this last point, I found Jamie to play in a dreamlike manner with ideals within his art. I asked if he thought it was, until now, no coincidence that his work revolves around propelling people, places, and things he believes deserve a voice forward. “Yes. It’s definitely to help out where I can. My goal is to leave a positive and helpful impact on, not just only my school, but my community.”
“Where do you think that urge comes from?”
“From my role models at the barbershop, no? From the people I’ve met and the places I’ve been. It comes from a want to try to yearn for a deeper connection within my art and between others and the art that they care about too.”
“How do you think this reflects upon the conception of ideas and their execution?”
“I think it influences my drive. I want to make those people proud. I know if I can build a platform big enough, I’ll want to bring everyone who was there for me with me. (…) And some nights, right? Greg, I want this shit so bad that I cry. It’s so bad it hurts. I’m not gonna lie. And it pisses me off sometimes because I need to calm down and understand that in God’s timing, this will all align,” I wondered if he considered himself a humanist, much like the individuals of the Renaissance “I think so. Beyond myself, my creativity comes from the love of my family, people who push me and believe in me, and know that once I give my 110% to it, I can take out whatever it is that I set my mind to. It came from Mr. Hendrix Bossman who pushed me into getting into painting. It came from my love for my uncle and my cousin, Sebastian, that pushed me to want to keep this going and wanting to expand more within my art and myself. It came from my dedicated parents, my mom, and my dad, who believed in me and in the man that I’m going to become and put trust and faith in sending me to college so I can excel beyond the bar and not only succeed.” Jamie sticks his hands up into the air and pauses me as he sees I’m about to slip another question, we laugh, he confesses he wants to finish his “shout-out”:
“All my family, friends at home, close friends, like Ryan, Nardos, Zach, all my Shiloh family, my Annistown family, every person I’ve ever talked to- shit -my SCAD family, my brothers and sisters that I’ve met here, Marquise, Amir, Blake, Jaden, Ken, Cam, everybody. Every person I’ve ever met or shook hands with or been in the elevator with or made eye contact or spoke to, that person. Is responsible. Yes, that person is responsible for the man that I’m becoming or that I want to become. So yes, I’m a humanist, cause it takes a village. And I believe that my village is so pure and kindhearted that I have no choice, but to relay that same message in my heart.”
It is a shame that Jamie’s emotions, gesticulations, vocal emphasis, and inflictions do not succeed on paper, but in between tears of awe from crystal transparency, I decided to ask him one question to try and summarize his feelings and his hopes to those who’ve invoked this phenomenological rant. “In a word, who is that man that you’re trying to become?”
“Jamie is a man who’s loved,” he grins slyly again, “Loved,” he says, echoing in perfect synch with the meaning of his name (he who supplants), the culture he’s been raised by, and the city that’s watched him grow. Brown is an exemplary Atlantan artist, responsible for the ambition that inspires community leaders, soaked in the creed of his passions, and iron-cast with the principle of progression. On an inspirational note, I ask him to leave us with a quote. Jamie flips through a leather back, strung wound journal decorated in ciphers, doodles, late-night thoughts, and dreams. He stops on a page practically dead-center of the book. He looks up.
“Act as if it were impossible to fail,
Because you can’t choose when people acknowledge you.
This is your moment.”