Jacob Willis is a graffiti artist who is very passionate about his art. He tries to stay optimistic, but it seems life is doing it’s best to bring him down. His father left after his brother was born, but Jacob kept his head up. His father figure was killed in a race crime, but Jacob learned a lesson from it. He meets a violent psycho who throws desks at teachers, but Jacob befriends him. No matter what is thrown at him, he turns it into a good thing. Then everything bad happens at one time. People use him, people die, Jacob is wrongly thrown in jail. It leads him to ask, what’s the point.

Everything can be considered art. A painting perceived as smut by one is wildly profound to another. Most people fail to understand this concept. They assume their opinions are fact. However, art is not created to be subjective. Art is created to have different effects on different people.
Graffiti is art. Thpugh some people look at it as vandalism,others view it as a brilliant piece of work. Jacob Willis is a graffiti artist,emphasis on the word artist. He was not the type to spray paint swear words on bridges. Instead, his art was meaningful to the masses. Jacob was a 17 year old black kid raised in Brooklyn, New York who had a few different father figures walk out on him. Between school and helping raise his two year old brother, DeAndre, Jacob’s life was constant stress. Art is his only way out. Unfortunately, tagging is illegal, even if it’s not profane. Especially if the artist is a young black man in a white man’s world. Therefore, Jacob had to sneak around while doing his favorite hobby.
Jacob’s mother worked the night shift as a janitor in a hospital. While she was at work, he was forced to watch his brother. This would usually end anywhere between one and three in the morning. Once she got home, Jacob threw on a hoodie and disposable some gloves and snuck out. He never tagged important buildings. The ones he drew on were always run down and abandoned. He made art out of something damaged.

A senior in high school, Jacob already had his morning routine planned out every day. He’d wake up at about 5:30 in the morning, get dressed, make breakfast,and draw until he has to walk to school. Being an antisocial artist, Jacob always put his headphones in on no one would bother him. He was usually the first one in Mrs. Hammel's math class.
Mrs. Hammel and Jacob never got along, nor would they ever; even in a parallel universe. Math is the exact opposite of art. Art is subjective, while math is objective. Which is why Jacob hates math. So before class, Jacob continues to draw in his sketchbook while the other students fill the seats. On this particular day, he was drawing Martin Luther King Jr. as the president. Not paying attention to his surroundings, Jacob’s friend Mike Chapman snuck up and smacked Jacob in the back of the head.
“‘Sup,” Mike greeted as his hand made contact with Jacob’s cranium.
“Jesus Christ, Mike,” Jacob answered, jumping out of his seat. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Yea, well, maybe you should get your nose out of that book, It’d probably do you some good to talk to someone else besides me.”
Mike may have been friendly toward Jacob, but besides that, Mike was a certifiable psycho. Standing at six feet eight inches and weighing 230 pounds, mostly muscle, Mike was a man to fear. Last year, he was suspended for throwing a desk at a teacher. It was a miracle he wasn’t expelled, but that’s what happens when you’re the best football player in the state.
“What are you doing in there, anyway?” Mike asked, pointing to Jacob’s sketchbook.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“Well now I gotta see.”
Mike pushed Jacob out of his seat and grabbed his sketchbook. Mrs. Hammel yelled at Mike to cut it out, to which he responded by flipping off the teacher. He started flipping through Jacob’s doodles, making quizzical looks at almost all of them.
“You know, Jacob, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were gay.”
“There are plenty of straight artists,” Jacob snapped back, dusting himself off.
The two sat back down when the bell rang and class started. Mrs. Hammel started teaching and Jacob pretended to take notes, but instead drew in his notebook and fell into his own world.