Gi Andersson

This ain’t no goddamn exhibition.
It’s a riot in color.

It’s what happens when feelings grow up without a seatbelt and the beats come from broken hearts and even more broken drum machines.

Gi carves reality into concrete, sprays love on landfills, and jams silence ‘til it snaps.
It’s poetry in steel-toe boots.
It’s soul samples on a busted ghetto blaster.
It’s a hug laced with brass knuckles.

You won’t find answers here.
Only pulsing doubts reeking of gasoline, longing, and loops from a life refusing to mix down.

This art ain’t pretty.
It’s real.
And reality bleeds in 4/4 time.

Welcome in.
But take off your shoes — the heart is sacred.