I happened upon the art of Active Decay the way I make most discoveries these bewildering days.. through chance, good karma, blessings of ohm, going through rabbit holes on social media, if I'm lucky and persistent something finds me..
When I came to my laptop the next morning it was flooded with messages from everyone asking if I had deleted my instagram account - frustrated followers were showing me “page not found” screenshots or evidence of my url leading to a ghost account...
My 12 year old kids explained I had been shadow banned. fuck WHAT? WHY?
they asked what I did last and I couldn't remember.. oh wait yah i liked a bunch of drawings on one particular page..... in fact I liked ALL of them. one after the next I couldn't stop, I wanted to restrain myself, but I couldn't, I just loved these drawings.
“Ah, instagram thinks you're a spam bot and they shadow banned you.”
"AND YES DAD, IT’S PERMANENT. ⚰️"
Well at least it was for a worthwhile cause - what a way to go down. Brooke Prince's art is not only stunning - it displays an open-hearted honesty - an altruism all too-often diminished by the forges of postmodern cynicism.. ink drawings that evoke an innocence and melancholy of days past - a time when the drone of days sentenced to educational institutions could leaven through cathartic escapes into the pages of composition books – where personal hopes and aspirations for an abundant future could be inscribed in private drawings.. Prince’s own imaginings of self-excellence distill into promotional graphics of the cinema - where the artist realizes herself as badass, heroine, nemesis .. a worthy opponent. In this immediate self-realization, Brooke completes the promise of her projected heroism, becoming her own healer.
there's something intangibly beautiful about it all.. something akin to the resurfacing of forgotten desires, the attendant urge to reclaim lost time - all mixed with the realization of how the years have taken their toll. Such a spark of insight rekindles in the heart the very thing that allows me to forget its limiting conditions; going through these drawings, I am reminded that I too once had dreams.
- Stephen Romano Brooklyn March 2021.