From Denver to NYC: My Unforgettable Encounter with Futura

From Denver to NYC: My Unforgettable Encounter with Futura

I woke up early on September 8th—4:13 a.m. to be precise. Calming my mind when I'm excited or anxious has been a challenge since childhood, but this wasn’t about a job interview, vacation, or work presentation. This time, I was on the verge of meeting someone I’ve held in high regard for almost 20 years. I’ll save the backstory of how Futura's work first resonated with me for another post. For now, I want to hone in on the experience of meeting him and losing myself in his expressive, abstract paintings.

I took a shower and got dressed before my 4:30 a.m. alarm even went off. My flight to LaGuardia was set for 6:56 a.m. from DIA. Charlee, my girlfriend, was ready by 4:50 a.m. I checked my bag about seven times to make sure my Futura book by Rizzoli was packed before we left. Why weren't the first five checks enough? Honestly, I don’t have an answer for that.

We got to the airport and I breezed through security, chillin' at the gate with about 25 minutes to spare. On the flight, I was flooded with emotions, even more than usual. I had recently learned my Aunt Steph passed away, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. I find some solace in knowing my last message to her was “I love you.” We landed at LaGuardia around 12:20 p.m., and just like that, I was back in New York. I grabbed my bag and called my best friend Julian, who had driven up from PA to scoop me and take me to the museum.

At the Bronx museum, we immediately faced some of Futura’s early paintings, alongside a massive mural that had to be about 25 feet high. Talk about gettin' up. Seeing other admirers decked out in his iconic Nike SB sneakers and gear made me feel like I was among my tribe. I snapped photos and took videos, soaking in the journey of a creative who, despite sometimes stepping back, never quit.

On the third floor, kids were drawing and b-boys were breaking—it wasn’t just a celebration of Futura’s prolific career, but a celebration of hip-hop culture. Julian and I made our way to the third-floor patio, and amidst the unique crowd, I spotted Futura, sitting down and signing books and merch. I jumped into the autograph line as soon as I saw it.

But just after I got in, they roped it off. My sense of relief was short-lived when I realized the rope cut off the line about 15 people ahead of me. “FUCK THAT,” I thought. There was no way I flew all this way just to get close and not at least dap him up and thank him for the inspo. I slid up to the front, off to the side, and explained the situation to this cool older couple who had a French bulldog. They were down to help me but didn’t have any luck persuading Futura’s homie, who was firm about wrapping it up. I respected it, though.

After chatting with the couple, I cut back in line, and finally, it was Sky Welkin’s turn to pay his respects. Futura looked me in the eye and said, “Yes Sir!” I was so hyped I just fist-bumped him and said, “Yo, I go by Sky Welkin, you followed me on IG just last week!” He goes, “Oh, there you are! Thanks for coming, bro!” A woman, who I think might have been his wife, said, “Aww, Look, You Got It!” I said, “I had to! I flew in from Denver just for this.” Futura and his homie, who I think was Kano Love, looked at me in disbelief. I got a bit self-conscious about hogging the moment, so I quickly asked for a photo. Futura shouted to the crowd, “YO, I got fans in Denver!” We took the pic, dapped up again, and I walked away with my signed book.

This was an experience I’ll never forget. Being a part of this culture and its intersections has given me a profound sense of purpose. Lenny “Futura” McGurr created an identity that allowed him to pursue his creative interests, and I’m on the cusp of doing the same under the Sky Welkin moniker. I hope to achieve even a fraction of his success. Our identities, once honed, don’t just let us stand in our truths or set us apart—they serve as a vehicle to navigate our curiosities.

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