Thus portraiture is the dominant mode of his artwork. The setting of his pieces tends to be urban, tropical with palm trees, surreal, or dream-like states. It is Kaki's intent to paint black life so that black people will look at themselves with new and fresh eyes, so that they will gaze upon their blackness with wonder and be renewed.

The colors in Kaki's art have a brilliance the eyes usually overlook in nature. Kaki makes use of a special technique in representing the flesh tones of his black subjects, especially the brownish color tones of the face. But he also makes use of pencil and ink for black and white artwork. He uses wall paints and acrylics in his murals, which can be found in Baltimore, Atlanta, and in Tampa, Florida.

A major historical project that Kaki has been working on for the last two years is a re-creation in art of the Pennsylvania Avenue area in its heyday (pre-1968), which used to be the entertainment district for Black Baltimore. He has thus been combing the pages of magazines and newspapers of the 1950s and 1960s. One of his paintings is of the marquee of the old Royal Theater, which hosted the major musical stars of jazz, rhythm and blues, rock and roll, and comedy and dance. The Royal was sold and torn down after the 1968 "riots." With the breakdown of segregation and the building of the Civil Center downtown on Howard and Baltimore, Pennsylvania Avenue as the major black entertainment district collapsed.

The black awareness ("afrocentric") movement remains vital in Baltimore, and Kaki is at the center of that cultural activity, not only as an artist but also as a drummer. He is invited to almost every program of the Black Year: Kwanzaa, Black History Month, Malcolm X Day, Marcus Garvey Day, Africa Day (in May).

His mother Nodia McQueen was born in Evergreen, Alabama; his father Wilbert McQueen was born in Maxton, North Carolina  Wilbert McQueen was a corporal in the Marines. Here in Baltimore, his mother was a school teacher, his father a skilled construction worker, a mason. 

Kaki, along with his four sisters, were raised in West Baltimore, not far from Pennsylvania Avenue. In those days, most blacks lived south of North Avenue.

Kaki's favorite subject then was math. He, however, was not destined to pursue it formally beyond high school. Of course, he reminds me, that art is math, at least, it is useful in making art. So he has no regrets. Kaki was expelled from Douglass when he was in the 12th grade. Like many black boys then (and probably now), school tended (tends) incapable of holding their attention or inspiring. The boys of the streets and the activity of Pennsylvania were more alluring.

Young boys like young girls and they like running after young girls and they like catching young girls. Kaki did not return to Douglass. He got a job at Read's Drug Store. And he got married. For two years, things were going okay with him and his new wife. He had almost adjusted to marriage and to work.

He was also involved in search-and-destroy missions thirty miles from the DMZ. He recalls a number of firefights, rockets raining down. When Viet Cong fire began, the foxhole was not segregated. He saw numerous Navy guys carried away in body bags. Kaki was there during the Tet Offensive, when all hell seem to throw open its fiery gates.. Kaki reached the rank of Buck Sergeant (E-3). He did R-and-R in Bangkok, Thailand.

After his year of war duty was completed, Kaki was not only ready to come home. He had not only. seen Vietnam and Thailand, but also Guam, Hawaii, and Japan. What excitement did Pennsylvania Avenue had to offer in comparison? He, however, had the good sense to come home. He came back to the States by way of Seattle to avoid the anti-war protest. He did his own paperwork, and took two weeks to get back to Baltimore. He had seen the world and he now wanted to see the world for which he went to the war. He took the train to Louisville.

Kaki discovered he was unable to adjust back in the world, that provincial world that is America, with its smallness and pettiness. Nevertheless, he returned to his job at Read's Drug Store. They refused to recognize his seniority based on his military experience. He went to the Labor Department to make his complaint and won his case. But with his employers he "fell out of grace." His marriage began also to unwind. In Vietnam, he had become "kind of wild." War and the spilling of  blood will do that.

In 1969, Kaki was arrested and spent a month in jail. It was a case of mistaken identity. But it was a blessed fall -- for it was during this time, 1970, that Kaki experienced an "awakening."

Kaki left Baltimore. He no longer wanted to be around the place and the persons he knew too well. He wanted to challenged himself. So he decided he would make his living off his art. He went to Atlanta, Georgia. He concentrated on portraits and learned to draw and paint quickly. "There was little or no black art or black artists then around us," Kaki recalls. "They're overflowing now. But the people are not going for originals, but for prints."

For Kaki painting is "all about culture." Kaki wants to make art accessible to all those who would enjoy it. His artwork represents some face of black culture (African, Caribbean, black American). 

According to Kaki, he tries, "to do work people can afford." His, he asserts, is the "artwork of the people." While in Georgia, one of Kaki's portraits won first prize at an art fair. He spent two years in Georgia and then returned to Baltimore.

With his fill of California, Kaki headed back East by bus. He came back through New Mexico and saw the Indians. In one trip, he saw snow, rain, and sunshine. Every night, he saw the moon. Often he wanted to lie down and just look up at the sky, at the stars.

In 1981, Kaki was in Haiti for nine days. He said he found out what Voodoo was all about. He was in Florida from the mid-1980s into the 1990s. He spent time in Tampa and Ybor City. He enhanced the surroundings of both places. His work could be viewed across Ybor City -- Columbia and 22nd Street (mural), 4204 34th Street (storefront), Cauldron Restaurant at 7th Avenue (interior), and other sites. His murals were his most visible work.

I have known Kaki for about seven years. He has been natty dread during all of this period, with locks hanging over his shoulders, his beard dreaded down over his chest.

According to Kaki, his works speak for him. Indeed they do. He says he paints not so much for this generation, but for those yet to come. On this go around, however, black people cannot allow others to speak for us -- to tell our story.

Kaki says there will be lots of portraits, a lot of stuff that will stand after he has gone. "I am rich in the stuff I have spread. It's going to flow. It has some wisdom and knowledge that cannot be taken away. I found power in it."

In the time I have known him, Kaki has been consistent. He is still spreading his art across the city and beyond. He lives still on his work, though he takes a part-time job now and again, when things are slow.

Sista Inora McQueen, Kaki's sister. She provided the family photos above and to the left of their parents, Nodia and Wilbert McQueen.

I send her much thanks.