[MUSIC PLAYING] So this is a fat cap.

See the gap there is really wide?

There's like a slit there.

So that's how you know it's a fat cap.

The spray comes out wider.

And there's all different types of caps with spray paint, right?

And you can see the same thing here.

We have the hole there, and that little tiny little slit right next to it, that's how you know it's a skinny cap.

But the skinny's like the clog in the hole.

See how much more paint's coming out?

So that's a fat cap.

We're all like limited editions.

I'm only going to make but so much art.

What's the point of being an artist in today's climate?

Art and life are one and the same.

You're constantly composing.

( MUSIC PLAYING ) The experiences that I draw on the most are the negative ones, or the perceived negative ones.

I liked to do graffiti like in the 80s.

I was in high school, I was a young kid, totally illegal, outside of something I would normally do, and I got caught by the cops.

They roughed me up, they sprayed the spray paint out of my hair, they kicked my butt, so that's why I don't do anything bad 'cause every time I do something bad, I get caught.

I had the worst luck in the world.

It's far better on the heart and the stress levels to do it legally, because then you can put a lot more into it.

As a kid, my father moved us to Suriname, South America.

So I lived in the rainforest.

We moved to Plainfield, New Jersey.

I considered it, but who considers being an artist when you're 18 years old and you don't have any examples of artists that are successful at making a living?

I get into Rutgers, into the engineering program, I almost fail out.

I changed my major to art, and I haven't stopped since.

( PIANO PLAYING ) The more experiences you subject yourself to, the more you have to draw from, and the more people you talk to, the more you have to draw from.

Life is not univocal.

I don't drink and I don't smoke, but I understand addiction because I know when something grabs you.

How you can't shake it.

It's like a monkey on your back, you know?

It's like constantly buzzing in your head.

Everything you see, you're framing as, "Oh, look at that color.

Look at that skyline."

And you're seeing these things through rose-colored glasses.

I'm sure you do it, sir.

Yeah, you do.

You're like, "Oh, that's a good shot over there.

Get some balls over there.

I would just totally take that."

( LAUGHTER ) I don't do clubs.

I don't do bars.

I don't do any of that stuff because I'd rather be home making art.

Everything is a distraction if you're not doing what you're supposed to be doing.

We're here in front of Memorial Stadium.

We're New Brunswick High School's football team plays.

We are in the final lap of getting our most recent mural completed.

CoLab's mission is to create projects and programs that directly connect our local community with artists who create really beautiful, provocative work.

We'll typically advance a project two years or more.

We've been working with Rutgers University's Department of American Studies to document the historic district split between New Brunswick and North Brunswick Township back in 1973.

There was a displacement of the historic black community and they've largely left the city.

And what we do have now is a new generation of Latino immigrants coming from Central America and Mexico.

There was a breakup between the two municipalities right after the Civil Rights Movement.

Basically, everybody that lived in North Brunswick was of one persuasion, everybody that lived in New Brunswick was another persuasion.

The mural depicts the oral testimonies that were given.

It's about a guy teaching younger Latinos about old New Brunswick.

The reason why things like this take so long is the narrative is complicated.

There's a lot of love for this area.

There's a lot of history for this area.

It's really exciting.

In one way, it is an ending of a process and a project, but because of the future plans for this facade, it's also the beginning of a very long, exciting process.

Essentially, we're gonna be spending the next decade planning out new installations that are going to document the history of the city, going all the way back to indigeneity, and then leaving the last couple of panels open for someone for the next 50 years to decide what should be designed.

[ PIANO PLAYING ] It's kind of an honor to be invited into somebody's space, specifically in New Brunswick, and I'm not being paid to say this.

The people at Collab Arts go above and beyond.

There's a lot of bureaucracy involved.

Most of it I understand.

They have to make sure it doesn't upset the denizens or the people of that neighborhood and you have to make sure it's not offensive, gang-related or violent.

So then you go from like limitless and your world starts shrinking.

So any idea you have that's outside of the box, you have to think of a witty way of saying something or hiding something in the work.

We try not to shy away from social justice messages.

And those have led to some questions or points of tension, but never in a way that has created an obstacle from us doing work in the future.

- You feel like you're in a box because you have to behave yourself.

And artists don't like to behave themselves.

You see just how much you can get away with.

Artists don't like to be marginalized.

You have to work within the lines.

So this is sort of like a, you know, like, I'm gonna write what I want to write.

There's sort of like my graffiti kind of background creeping in.

Basically what you do is you mark up the wall and then you use that as points of reference.

I'm going to superpose an image over the wall and then all the letters from the poem are guidelines to where the lines of like the face, the eyebrows, the nose, like the contour of her chin, I could just sketch it right out.

This one, it's just a poem that just always stuck with me.

It's very poignant.

Sometimes I put a song up there.

I could have just wrote A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L... Sometimes I do that, 'cause I just need to mark the wall up.

The last time I wrote, it was Shakespeare, you know, Butts off, light through, yonder window breaks, 'cause I'm a hopeless romantic, I think.

[ LAUGHTER ] They didn't like it.

At first I got the cops called on me, and he was like, we got a call that somebody's writing poetry on the wall, and I was like, oh, that's perfect.

Cop and I got a good laugh, and then I got more calls, and then I got a visit from a security guard from across the street, and then I got jeers and looks from the people across the street.

If this was a transfer, it'd be gone in like a day.

Who goes to deface something with a machine with caution tape?

Like, who does that?

... cop's like, "Hey, that's got to come off the wall."

It's gone on up to as high as it can go, and they're threatening, like, canceling the project.

With the city, you're sort of putting the plane together while you're flying in certain respects where you push on what is acceptable, and people come along with you to a certain extent.

It's something to laugh about.

I am sorry that I made people uncomfortable, but isn't that the purpose of good art, is to make people uncomfortable and get them to talking and maybe engage, maybe go home and talk to your kids about what that says.

I think there was a little bit of curiosity with this project and process, simply because it's a new mural in an area that hasn't really seen them before in the city.

It's on property that is very meaningful and important to a lot of community members.

And it's directly across the street from the middle school, which was the historic high school that the story that we talk about this district split references.

But when you start to engage the fuller, larger community, questions come up.

And we're always happy to have conversations once those happen.

But I get it.

This isn't my neighborhood, and you should be aware of what people in that neighborhood want.

It's a privilege to be invited into somebody's home, right?

[ MUSIC PLAYING ] I think public art is absolutely necessary.

There's this need to be a part of something, especially to show inclusion for the people that live there.

The oral poem that's going to go on the bottom part, that was written by a middle schooler from across the street getting ready to go to high school.

She wanted to be represented and feel like she's part of the community.

And that's really why I'm doing the mural, because I love the poem.

It's an honest take.

High school's a microcosm of everything.

When you're capable of being anything you want to be, do not let others dictate your fate and write your story.

Be a shield that protects others.

Here is where your story begins because this is where you're supposed to be.

I like that she made a feeling of anxiety and turned it into something positive.

How more artistic can you get than that?

We should be conscious, but conscious has a very high cost.

[ PIANO PLAYING ] I quit every day.

Something inside of me says, "I don't need this."

It's like this whole mountain of stuff that happens outside, and then you have to deal with the bureaucracy, and the red tape, and the feelings.

Day in and day out, the struggle is real.

And I do it all again because I've worn many hats, and this is the most fulfilling by far.

Street art does have a purpose.

Like, it really does feel good.

It's a multi-tiered escapism.

It's a window or doorway to like a zen experience.

Everything quiets down.

It's rewarding.

You are bringing some awareness to the citizens that they are being considered.

To a certain extent, you can look at a city as a canvas.

There's always more to do, and that's sort of how I feel about New Brunswick.

I see really great work that I love, and I'm always excited about the next opportunity.

In face of all the other pressures that we have to deal with, you know, mortgage, politics, religion, you have to juggle what really gets you going and what resonates within you, you know, as a person who's struggled.

[MUSIC]