I began this shirt design as a comedy, a satire, a political joke.
I remember sitting in a comfortable cubicle in an air-conditioned building with the privilege of aSilicon Valley internship and thinking, "There's no way." I moved pixels and drew shapes, chose colors and fonts with the intention that this campaign would only last three months, and at the end of the time would revel in the novelty. If that.
Last night, the joke unraveled into an actual political statement, an expression of discontent, a mark of angered fervor.
In this moment, I am hyper-aware of the sensation artists have after they've created a piece -the sense that you have to regard it independent - that the audience now dictates the interpretation. I just did not ever fathom that this interpretation were [sic] even possible.Now, I sit on a futon in a university dorm surrounded by friends who have felt their American identity stripped from them. In this position, it is more than pixels and shapes and colors and fonts. I am aware of the privilege I have been enabled by hard-working, loving immigrant parents, the privilege to have been shaped by friends who have challenged me and --importantly -- corrected me, the privilege to express my thoughts -- standing by the democracy imagined by the founding fathers, not a pig with privileges he refuses to admit and only exploits.
Elijah Williams and I have sold clean out of the original order of Tuck Frump shirts. We quiteliterally have no shi(r)ts to give.