Razkuache is a celebratory fusion of cultural, personal, and political influences from the perspective of seven Chicago (specifically Pilsen) based artists.
He owns the leather shoes sticking out from the stall next to you, in the nightclub bathroom. He has that strange glance that makes you fear the stranger. He is your grandson, and you are proud of him.
This mural, see, it’s a big old mural in the alley on the sidewall of the Tokyo Hotel, a big old picture of an ever-devastated Virgin of a Mother, three spotlights spraying down and against her face like some kind of gangbang moneyshot.
It will teach me how to carve a six pack with forty minutes a day and how, with a left turn and hook up, to find the g-spot that gives a woman a superior orgasm; it’s all that easy. And one day you’ll understand, Freshman: you’re better right now than you’ll ever be.
You’ve always kept one eye on the ground, littered with rocks and fish and one to the dazzling blue ceiling. But then, and it’s only natural, your downcast eye begins to creep up to the top of your head.