Here, the portrait is pushed into defiance, three figures, confrontational symmetry, OBEY YO MOMMA repeating until it becomes texture. A marijuana leaf behind them like a signal. A rifle held like a prop, stamped with ART IS MY WEAPON.
Edge is where the image stops behaving. Where it becomes a question instead of a conclusion.
This piece echoes an earlier frame I made in 1985: Andy Warhol with two fashion models, a studio moment held in restraint and proximity. Same DNA. Different intent.
Front and center is Myra Wexler—known as the “Queen of Wynwood.” She’s gone now. RIP. But her presence still anchors the frame. That Wynwood voltage. Unapologetic. Unbothered by permission.
I’m not interested in the gun as a gun. I’m interested in why it reads instantly as power—how language on a weapon becomes a message before you decide whether you agree with it. How repetition turns a phrase into a command. How a single symbol can change the temperature of a scene.
That’s Edge pressure, not beauty. As a large-format signature piece on a statement wall, it doesn’t ask for agreement. It changes the air in the room. It tightens it. It makes the space aware of itself. Attention becomes the atmosphere.
Work with David
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