Twenty years ago I was introduced to the Harlem Renaissance writer Langston Hughes, and ran into this short, powerful poem. I’ve carried it around in my head ever since, with it crawling around, waiting to re-emerge. Over the past couple years I’ve been making more and more convoluted drawings of abstract explosions, merging comic-book-style exclamation bubbles with arcs, stripes, and excessive sharp points. Here the drawings and poem seem to fit perfectly together. History is not an idle force, it is forever exerting pressure on the present, and therefore the future.