Benjamin Zephaniah. 2025. Pen and ink, sketchbook. 9″x12″.
In a distracted culture, it’s crucial to look slowly. I like faces that demand scrutiny and make you think. If I’m going to invest hours of work on a portrait, the person being drawn must be worth it.
Benjamin Zephaniah was⏤and still is.
His stanzas didn’t follow rules; they followed his internal rhythm. He didn’t kowtow to convention or the status quo.
He was a rebel.
Zephaniah was shortlisted for Oxford’s Professor of Poetry. He was never elected.
He also declined an OBE, refusing an honor tied to a history he rejected.
Titles come and go. Integrity stays.
The lines in my drawings are made with conviction and expose a truth about my subject, and ultimately, about me.
I don’t need validation.
The algorithm is meaningless.
Likes mean nothing.
I follow my internal rhythm, as Benjamin Zephaniah did, with lived conviction.
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