By Keisha Mitchell
When in the city of Atlanta, one may not realize
but they are in the middle of a social, cultural and artistic storm. The vast
number of people who make an exodus in search of a new station to call
home or those who settle in hopes of raising the newest bar keep Atlanta
incubated in a consistent climate of change. In a place where one can’t
accurately forecast the weather, let alone the latest trend, longevity is
rewarded only to those who possess the air of relevance. Enter Miya Bai-
ley. Since his arrival to Atlanta from Asheville, North Carolina he has main-
tained the type of presence reserved for giants. As cofounder of one the
citys’ (If not nations’) most coveted tattoo parlors and becoming one of
the most prolific tattoo artists (arguably) period, Bailey is made from the
stuff of legends. However, as with most stories, all accounts of his of prior
artistic conquests have been one-sided. That is, we all know how proficient
he is with the ink gun, but has anyone told you about how powerful he is
with the paintbrush?
Like many creatives Miya Bailey displayed an early capacity for art
as a child in North Carolina, where his mother (also an artist) was a strong
creative force and source of encouragement “Her and my grandmother
used to write stuff out and make it look artistic…and I would catch it, so
I actually learned how to read like that; I would remember [words] visu-
ally if not how it sounds. …She would draw our [my brothers and sisters’]
names in calligraphy and I would copy they names which got me doing
handwriting…” As Bailey grew, so did his other influences (which range
from friends and fellow tattoo artists Tuki Carter and Corey Davis, to Bay
area heavies such as Mike Giant and Jermey Finch) as did the utility of his
talent; “I do art for a living and I do art for me; if I’m doing it for living I’m
do[ing] a lot of nudes, because it’s no thinking. But if I got to to do me a
100% I’m do[ing] more of a political statement.” Bailey translates his per-
spective best in his illustrative pen work and his paintings. These two meth-
ods may be radically different in their application, but they help Bailey
maintain a creative equilibrium; “When I do pen work it’s more logical and
rational, when I paint, it’s about the expression. When I paint it’s more of a
spiritual thing. I don’t think about it, I feel like I’m a vessel, I don’t ever plan
what I’m going to paint. It’s more of you feeling like you’re connected to
God, you’d be surprised at what I create because I’m not really thinking
about it. “ With paintings that elicit reactions from crying to awe, one look at Baileys’ work
shows evidence of a creative force bigger than the painter/illustrators ego or
will. Many of Baileys paintings are large and burst with dynamic color combina
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tions reminiscent of a Henri matisse or a Jean-Michel Basquiat, yet maintain a
stylistic urbanism if not afrocentrism, and are filled with hints of the artists’ internal
dialogue. Pieces such as “Paying Dues” (featured on the bottom right), which is
a mixed medium semi portrait of Troy Davis, speak to the very real sense of com
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modification and sense of valueless-ness many African-Americans struggle with.
Miya Bailey does not just assert a necessary voice in catalouging the Black
and human experience through his artwork but has also championed the culti
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vation of a true arts community within the city of Atlanta that has helped to set
a national stage for exspansive and progressive art thought. This mission was
the basis for the creation of City of Ink as Bailey explains “ When we opened up
City of Ink the whole plot from it was to focus more on selling art, market art to a
younger generation. Like, they cant afford it now, but what I do is host artshows
for the young people, so when they [students] get out of school and get they
first apartment, they can afford a $150, $200 piece. ”For Bailey that concept has
now grown into the desire to represent the exclusivity of the art scene as well. He
details; “Right now what I’m trying to do is find a building for like a premier Atlanta
commercial spot for contetmporary and urban art....But we have to teach young
people the value of art, if they can buy a pair of Jordans they can invest in a
piece of art, imagine if you would’ve bught a young Basquiat?” As Miya Bailey
works to cultivate the culture, perhaps the only setback he consistently encoun
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ters is the lack of awareness amongst African- Americans stateside to their own
global influence and prominence as the perceived tastemakers of the world. This
is something Bailey believes can only be counteracted by education and the
type of self-awareness often found in healthy active dialogue between the youth
and the elders. “I hate to sound cliché and shit, but knowledge is key. And don’t
listen to a muthafucka that never seen shit, they can be a smart muthafucka right
here on earth but you need wisdom… So my thing is listen to old people, I don’t
see too many old black people in my life. I don’t have a relationship with an old
black man, or an old black woman for that matter. In my opinion there’s this big
crazy generation gap and we don’t treat each other the way we supposed too.
So my thing right now is try to have some relationship with an older black person,
and you’ll get all your blessings man.” As Bailey transitions into possible retirement
from professional tattooing, it is likely the artist will continue to see his legacy grow
and his presence and wisdom become a beacon of inspiration for generations of
artists and audiences to come.
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