Chapter 174

Rewinding time a little bit,

Naoki Nagayama, in order to get rid of the entanglement of the three American little thugs, walked quickly toward an alley on the main street, then grabbed a handful of snow and crouched at the corner.

In the small alley, a black young man was spray-painting something on the wall, with some bottles and cans placed at the corner.

"Hey, man! You're blocking my wall!" This black young man looked thin and weak, and had a literary temperament rarely seen in other black people.

"Shh~" Naoki Nagayama held up a finger in front of his mouth, signaling him to stay calm,

and then the black young man saw this Asian man use the handle of his umbrella to hook one of the chasing black guys to the ground, smear snow on the face of the other, and hook him down with the umbrella again.

He picked up his spray paint from the corner and said to the two people on the ground: "Surprise, motherf*cker!"

Then he sprayed down hard, followed by the wailing of the two black guys...

"I was terrified at the time!"

In an interview a few years later, Jean-Michel Basquiat said this,

"I thought I would be next, so when that guy said 'run', I took off running!"

Seeing the unusual black young man suddenly start spraying back and forth on the wall,

"Are you doing graffiti?"

"Otherwise?" The black young man was unforgiving, "You ruined my previous work~"

"What does that have to do with me? If you want to blame someone, it's those three guys' fault!"

"How did they offend you?"

"Those three guys wanted to rob me~"

???

What I saw was you beating them up, okay... The black young man stopped talking and focused on the spray painting again.

Regarding the art of street graffiti, Naoki Nagayama actually didn't understand it at all. In fact, he couldn't really understand the artworks of postmodern artists.

You can sell a square meter of firebricks stacked indoors for thousands of pounds? You can sell a banana stuck to a wall for over a hundred thousand dollars? Drawing six rows of circles on a blackboard can actually be worth hundreds of millions?

Sure enough, the world of artists is too deep for people to grasp!

But not being able to grasp it didn't prevent Naoki Nagayama from criticizing it.

"Graffiti is just like this, like a child scribbling."

"Hahaha, is this a tribute to Picasso?"

"No, no, it looks better with red here!"

Hearing this Asian man spouting nonsense about his work, the black young man couldn't help it:

"Shut up! Do you know street art? Do you know graffiti? Do you know who I, Basquiat, am?"

Yo ho, looks like he's a famous graffiti master,

"I don't know any of that, but so what? Graffiti is such a simple thing, isn't it something you can do as long as you have hands?"

Hearing this, the black young man was furious, shoved the spray paint directly into Naoki Nagayama's hand, and pointed to the wall next to him,

"Let me see your skills!"

In March 1982, Basquiat was in his prime. Having just held a solo exhibition in February, he had made a net profit of over 200,000 dollars. And now, this Asian kid actually dared to come to my territory?

Basquiat secretly mocked in his heart: "Creating next to my, Basquiat's, graffiti—within a week, all of New York will know your overestimation of your own abilities!"

Suddenly being provoked like this, Naoki Nagayama was also a bit forced into a corner. He had absolutely no painting skills; he even had to ask the Nakamori sisters for help when designing earmuffs before.

Basquiat mocked from the side: "What's wrong? Can't draw? Isn't it something you can do as long as you have hands?"

"How is that possible? I'm just thinking~" Naoki Nagayama was stubborn, then thought of the simplest way. It's just graffiti; he couldn't do anything too complicated, but stick figures were no problem. It was just a circle and four lines, and it just happened to be a corner here...

Naoki Nagayama directly used spray paint to draw a life-sized stick figure with a big head at the corner, holding something like a spray paint can in his hand. On the ground were two fallen stick figures, and on the other side of the corner was another stick figure running toward this side... This was the situation where those thugs were beaten down earlier.

"Give me the red spray paint~"

He changed colors without ceremony, added red spray to the paint can in the stick figure's hand, added white eyes and a crooked mouth to his black head, and also added a line of dialogue next to his head: "Surprise!!!

Mother

Fu*ker!!!"

"Done!" Naoki Nagayama said shamelessly to Basquiat, "How about it, not bad, right!"

Basquiat looked at the demonic stick figure and simply didn't want to say anything more: "This is not street graffiti at all!"

Naoki Nagayama asked curiously: "What do you mean? Isn't this the street? Didn't I spray it on the wall with spray paint? Or are there rules for street graffiti?"

But this question stumped Basquiat. Yeah, when did street graffiti ever have rules? It was originally the freest kind of art!

Thinking of this, Basquiat couldn't help but be speechless. He actually didn't see it as clearly as this outsider... In the end, he admitted it reluctantly: "Fine, let's call it street graffiti."

Then he started to perfect his own work again.

"Haha~" Naoki Nagayama saw this black young man start spray painting again and felt it was very interesting. Although he had just encountered a few black thugs, this black young man seemed different from them and was a quite interesting guy. "Is your name Basquiat?"

"Yeah, have you heard of my name?"

"Didn't you just say it?"

... The black young man stopped talking again.

"My English name is William~" Naoki Nagayama introduced himself, stating his identity in the US, "I'm an author."

"Oh ho? Do you write jokes?"

"Of course not, I'm a children's literature author~"

The two of them got to know each other in this Q&A.

By the time this work was finished, they could already be called friends.

"So, those three black thugs kept following you? And then you bought clothes and had lunch?" Basquiat was surprised, "Are you that bold?"

"Anyway, they couldn't do anything~" Naoki Nagayama wanted to flex his arm to show off his muscles, but it was blocked by his cotton coat.

"Also, you Asians seem to know kung fu, bushido, taekwondo, etc..." Basquiat thought of Naoki Nagayama neatly knocking down two thugs earlier; it looked like his skills were even better.

Naoki Nagayama was amused: "Who said that? I just acted more decisively."

After finishing, he sighed: "But I didn't expect New York to be so dangerous. Even in Manhattan during the day, there are black people robbing. It looks like the afternoon tour will have to be canceled."

But suddenly seeing that Basquiat was also black, he explained dryly: "Sorry, I didn't mean you..."

"Yo, man, not all black people are gang thugs!"

Basquiat also felt a bit ashamed for his black compatriots, and thinking that this guy he just met had a bad impression of black people because of this, he decided to save some of the black image anyway.

"William, this afternoon I'll take you to see what real black people in New York are really like!"

"What?" Naoki Nagayama was a bit surprised; he originally thought he would definitely have to go back to the hotel in the afternoon.

"Follow me!"

For some reason, Naoki Nagayama trusted this guy a bit. Maybe it was because he was dressed appropriately? Or maybe it was because he looked thin and easy to bully?

Anyway, after returning to the clothing store to retrieve the camera, he followed him.

Following Basquiat's lead, Naoki Nagayama gradually walked through Midtown Manhattan and arrived at the Chelsea neighborhood. This was a place where industrial culture and street art blended, known as the most artistic neighborhood, gathering countless galleries and art museums.

Here, large boomboxes were the standard equipment for street fashionistas, spray cans were the weapons of street painters, and music and painting were the channels for communication between different races and cultures here.

Basquiat was clearly a star here. Many people greeted him on the road, and the classic black chest-bump happened no less than ten times, making Naoki Nagayama a bit worried about Basquiat's small frame.

"Hey, Basquiat, where are you taking me?" Naoki Nagayama asked while taking pictures.

"To experience real New York culture~" Basquiat smiled like a child, "William, don't worry, I won't sell you out~"

Hehe, if this weren't prosperous Manhattan, but Brooklyn, I would really be a bit worried.

"Look, that over there is my 'gallery'."

Basquiat pointed to an empty street and said. The walls on both sides of the street were covered with strange but colorful graffiti works,

and their creators were excitedly introducing the origins of each piece of graffiti, and then suddenly had inspiration,

"William, please wait a moment, I've thought of another work."

As he spoke, he took out a spray can from his backpack. So that's why such a big bag was full of spray paint...

Watching the black young man fall into creation again, Naoki Nagayama felt very bored after taking a few photos around.

Is this whole long street just this guy's spray painting? Seeing a few spray cans scattered on the street, Naoki Nagayama picked one up casually and pressed it. There was actually still paint?

So the street artist Naoki went online again. He sprayed a few half-height stick figures on the blank space at the corner, then found other scattered colored spray cans and drew a small flag for each stick figure... A picture of cheering stick figures was completed.

He stood up, watching the stick figures as if they were cheering for the other graffiti works on the street.

"You should sign it."

Basquiat, who had finished his work, was also watching the graffiti from the side. After having a deeper understanding of the freest art, he didn't mind Naoki Nagayama painting on his "gallery," but instead encouraged: "You should sign it~"

"Sign it? Doesn't street graffiti never have signatures?" Naoki Nagayama was puzzled.

"A symbol, a pattern, a feature—any mark that can represent you is called a 'signature'," Basquiat said, "Just like my SAMO series before."

"Is that so~" Naoki Nagayama hadn't considered a signature of his own. Looking at the stick figures without facial expressions, he suddenly wanted to add some emotion to them, so he drew a line at the head of one stick figure and wrote a sentence: "Surprise!!!

Mother

Fu*ker!!!"

"Hahaha, this is very interesting!" Naoki Nagayama laughed out loud. Although the stick figures were raising flags and cheering, the sense of irony suddenly came up.

Basquiat next to him looked at this graffiti and felt speechless... But after looking at it for a long time, the stick figure with this line was very demonic, and it seemed really quite interesting.

"William, do you want to be called Motherf*cker as your stage name in the future?"

"Hahaha, being called Motherf*cker-man isn't bad either! Maybe I can manage a global organization in the future~" Naoki Nagayama told a joke that was out of tune, which no one else could understand except himself.

Basquiat shook his head: "Alright, William, let's go to the next place~"

"Where to?"

"The

Mudd

Club!"

Going to a club this early? Naoki Nagayama looked at the sky; it was only past 3 o'clock. By the way, the name of this club seemed very familiar. Have I heard it somewhere? Is it a very famous club?

"Isn't it a bit too early?"

"Of course we aren't going directly. We have to pick up my girlfriend first~"

Uh... Could it be that I'm going to be a third wheel?

Naoki Nagayama complained silently in his heart, but still followed honestly.

There were many bars and nightclubs in Tribeca.

Basquiat led Naoki Nagayama through many twists and turns, walking for nearly half an hour before arriving at a bar.

After entering, under the dim lights, there were already many hippies drinking, and the resident band was also performing.

Basquiat greeted the bartender very skillfully, walked straight behind the counter, and put his backpack under the counter.

"William, my girlfriend is performing. Let's have a drink and wait first~"

As he spoke, he started mixing drinks. He could actually play tricks with it; he was indeed multi-talented.

"Alright~" What else could Naoki Nagayama say?

A beautiful cocktail was quickly handed to him. The three layers of different colored liquors were distinct, showing the bartender's superb skills.

"This one is on me!"

Basquiat, who had just made a big profit, clearly didn't care about small money. He also mixed a cocktail for himself and then sat at the counter with Naoki Nagayama.

The band on stage was singing rock. Basquiat pointed to the lead singer and said: "That's my girl~"

An indescribable pride.

The girl on stage had a pure and moving face, a hot figure, a pure voice, a passionate performance, and an outstanding vocal range.

"Very beautiful, and an excellent singer. You've hit the jackpot!"

Naoki Nagayama clinked glasses with him and showed a man's smile.

Soon, the song was finished, the singer on stage was replaced, and then the female singer ran over from the side.

After seeing Basquiat, she rushed over to hug him, and they had a long French wet kiss.

Naoki Nagayama on the side covered his forehead immediately. Eitaro, where are you? I can't eat this much dog food...

"Honey, this is William, a friend I just met."

After being lovey-dovey with his girlfriend for a while, Basquiat finally realized that there was another friend present.

"William, this is my girlfriend, Madonna."

Naoki Nagayama didn't have any special reaction and greeted politely: "Hello, my English name is William, from Japan, and I'm an author~"

That girl seemed to have not seen such a stiff self-introduction for a long time: "Hahaha, I haven't heard such a stiff way of introducing yourself for a long time. Are you from a dozen years ago?"

Then she remembered something, coughed pretentiously: "Then, my full name is Madonna Louise Ciccone, from Michigan, currently a singer!"

Then she and Basquiat laughed together. The two of them were so loving that they forgot Naoki Nagayama's existence again.

"Madonna?!!" A figure whose name was like thunder in later generations, name, birthplace, occupation, all matched!

At this moment, Naoki Nagayama was shocked by this sentence and couldn't speak.

Could this cheerful girl be the future American music diva?

Although he had met many celebrities, this one,

could really be said to be the highest-ranking music celebrity he had ever met.

And, she actually dated a black street artist?!!