The vivid painting, called “The Inner Child,” is a cubist rendering of a fierce central figure surrounded by garish greens, reds and blues.
“This is like the inner child in me trying to get away from everything that abused him,” says Ash-Shahid Muhammed, 47.
Muhammed, who lived on the streets in Nashville during a time of active addiction, is now a busy artist in New York. His story includes both dealing drugs in Memphis and using drugs like crack and heroin in the streets in Nashville.
“One of my favorite sayings in recovery is, ‘If someone did to me what I did to myself, I would want to kill them,’” says Muhammed, a gregarious man full of plans for the future. “So the inner child in me witnessed everything that I’ve done to myself… but if you look at the picture, it looks like a little warrior.”
“Now that I’m clean, I can go back and be friends with this inner child.”
Muhammed spoke to The Contributor two weeks before the death of Nashville activist Father Charlie Strobel, who played a part in turning around the artist’s life. The conversation has been edited for clarity and brevity.
Before we talk about your years in Nashville, can you tell me about your life as an artist in New York?
Before COVID, I invested in a camera. I decided to use the drive I had to create a community on social media. I would walk up to artists and interview them. I wanted to network with them, plus I wanted to learn from them. I would upload it to social media, so they helped me plus it made them feel good. I studied them, seeing how they’re doing things like marketing on social media.
You made a name for yourself with comic books, but now you’re back to traditional painting. What caused that shift?
When I went to (Nossi College of Art in Nashville), I drifted away from original drawings and paintings because in this day and time, everything is digital, right? But in New York and the art world, original art is still valuable. So I started back getting into painting a lot. When I came to New York, I started traveling to different places, like where Andy Warhol and (Jean-Michel) Basquiat worked. Before COVID, I was hanging out in the galleries, and that motivated me. But once COVID hit, I was more on the computer. But I realized that I’ve got to have canvases, so that’s why I started back painting and telling my story that way.
What was it like waiting out COVID in New York?
There were like 900 people dying a day in New York. People don’t believe it, but there were so many bodies from COVID they were putting them in 18-wheel trailer trucks. The funeral homes didn’t have any room for the bodies. Family members were crying and complaining on TV about they got their parents in an 18-wheeler truck. A lot of places shut down, and to this day, if you’re not vaccinated, you can’t go into certain places. So I’m not vaccinated. One of the reasons why I didn’t want to get vaccinated was because I’m blind in one of my eyes due to me being shot in the head. I know a lot of people had complications with the vaccine, and I was afraid because we don’t know the after-effects of the vaccine.
How do you sell your art?
I sell art on the streets. Central Park, Times Square, things like that. I never sell the original, always prints. Then there’s grants to do our art in the community. I’ve done that several times in the community. I’m on Staten Island, and it’s called Staten Island Arts.
And you do workshops teaching children about art?
We would paint pictures of how we would like to see ourselves in five years. It helps people a lot of times. I ask the youth where they see themselves, what do they want to do in life? A lot of them are like, ‘I don’t know, I haven’t thought about things like that.’
Do you have good memories of Nashville, considering you were homeless for some time?
I was in Room In The Inn and Nashville Rescue Mission. I was 37 or 38 and in the drug program. Mainly I just wanted to get off the streets, man. It was cold out in Nashville. I remember the counselor asking me about a plan for the future. By me speaking it into existence, things started to develop. I got an apartment in Donelson and then got my GED. Then I went to college, so it was mind-blowing to me. Coming from using drugs, sleeping outside, being homeless, feeling lower than human. When I was homeless, I would paint and draw. I had a portfolio with me at Room In The Inn and the rescue mission. That was something that helped me escape the reality of my situation.
You’re originally from Memphis, and you spent the ages of 13 to 19 imprisoned, then lost sight in your right eye after being shot. Would you tell me about those dark days?
I sold drugs and I hustled. When you’re a drug dealer, you’re arrogant. (I got) shot and become homeless and started doing crack and shooting heroin. I went from a drug dealer living a luxury life having whatever I wanted — cars, money — to being paralyzed for like a good six months. I used to draw only when I went to jail. If I went to jail, I would pick up the pencil and draw, but when I was selling drugs, I was just selling drugs. When I got shot, I fell into homelessness, smoking crack and sleeping on the streets, being in shelters and rehabs. What I learned was, this is what I did to other families … I began to see the effects of what a drug dealer does to a person’s life.
How did that affect you?
Being homeless on drugs softened my heart. It gave me passion for the people, as well. Now, if I see a homeless person, I won’t give them a lot of money. But if I give them something, I give some food or nice shoes. If I have three, four or five shirt pair of shoes that I haven’t worn in a while, I’ve taken them to the homeless spot and given them to them.
You speak with children a lot about art and life at community centers, juvenile detention centers and on Zoom. What do you tell them?
I share my story. I tell them what I’ve been through, what it was like dealing drugs, sleeping outside, incarcerations. I realized that I have to have courage to share those things with people because people are going to judge or look down on you. I know there’s somebody coming behind me and I want to be a blueprint. It may not be everybody’s blueprint, but I want people to see if I could come out and change and do something different, then they can.
You ask children where they want to be in five years. Where do you want to be in five years?
The first thing is to be more spiritual. Without the spiritual side of me, I’m not going to make it. And from there being more responsible, learning to heal more and helping other people in the community. I want to help people either on the streets or rehabs or shelters. My goal is to help the struggling people, because depression is real, man. You don’t have to have drug problems to not know how to cope with life.
Jim Patterson is a freelance writer in Nashville. See more of his work at https://muckrack.com/jim-patterson