Altars, Amplifiers, Expired Beef: Ron Sims II, at Studio 215

I walked into Ron Sims II’s current exhibition, Altars x Amplifiers, expecting to see graffiti…and a lot of it. Why, you ask? Well, it’s because that was really all I knew about the man, even though we’ve known each other for 30 years.

Let me explain.

In a lighthearted tone over dinner this evening, just a few days after the opening, Ron called us “graffiti cousins,” and it really sums up who we are. Ron was mentored by Sano, a Cleveland graffiti pioneer who founded the 1980s crew Doin’ Everything Funky (or D.E.F. for short). Sano went on to form a new crew in the early ’90s called Cleveland Scribe Tribe, and Ron became a member under the pseudonym Tace, a name he used to tag throughout Cleveland and paint colorful pieces along the RTA Red Line.

At the same time, Sano’s friend and crewmate, a fellow old-schooler named Presto moved into my neighborhood and took me under his wing, teaching me the ways of graffiti writing. I adopted the name Lost as my moniker to cover the city with.

Whether you see graffiti as art or vandalism, you may not realize there’s a culture that comes along with it. It goes far beyond just painting. In that culture, disagreements and disputes often happen. Graffiti writers call it “beef.” These arguments can arise for any number of reasons: someone painting over someone else’s work, one writer “biting” (copying) another’s style, and everything in between. Typically, it ends with the parties involved painting over each other relentlessly until someone gives up. If that doesn’t work, fists have been known to fly.

Ron and I fell victim to such beef. We can laugh about it now that we’re nearly 50 years old, but at the time, it was serious and involved several confrontations, eventually leading to the two of us not crossing paths for almost 20 years. I won’t get into all the details here. That’s a story for another time. We managed to squash the beef some time back, and that’s what counts.

When asked to write this article, I was conflicted. Could I speak without bias about someone I had such a turbulent past with, even if I appreciated the art? There was only one way to find out.

Walking into the show, I was drawn to walls filled with portraits that stared back at me with an array of emotions. A painting of Ron’s daughter as a toddler perfectly captures the face of a curious child still learning about the world around her. His painting Big Sister depicts a woman resting her head on her crossed arms at the edge of a table. She looks past the viewer as if she’s deep in thought, or maybe recovering from a long day. A background of stars adds a dash of pop to the piece, balancing it out nicely.

Ron thoughtfully curated the show with pieces from his younger years as well, which placed more emphasis on his hip-hop and graffiti roots. One of my favorites was from 1995: a winter coat that he had airbrushed with a caricature of himself, along with a Tace graffiti piece. Perched below it was a monitor playing a looped video of Cleveland graffiti from that era. I’m a sucker for nostalgia.

As I went through the venue, I caught Ron’s attention and we exchanged a handshake and a quick conversation. I told him that I was really impressed and had no idea he did portraits. We walked to the back of the gallery, and he asked if I had seen the sculptures yet. I looked over to that area as he said it and had to admit I thought it was part of a different show. Once again, I was surprised by the diversity of the body of work.

Ron took time to speak to a forming group about several of the sculptures and the meanings behind them. He discussed a symbolic language he had been working on for decades, one that represents aspects of African American spirituality and society, and explained how he had embedded elements of it into these works.

His sculpture Six Shrine embodies the look of a roadside memorial you’d find in the inner city, adorned with mementos from the deceased. In this piece, we see stuffed animals tacked to a section of telephone pole. The majority of the piece is drenched in white paint, with a glaring red gun affixed to the bottom. At first glance, you think you know the story…but it goes so much further.

At dinner, we talked more about this piece, and Ron explained details that might have gone unnoticed, like the numerous nails hammered into the center. He explained that in Santeria and voodoo culture, nails are often hammered into structures to ward off evil. And the gun? It wasn’t the tool that killed, but rather a warning to those who would intend to bring harm.

I took a minute to process it all, and my appreciation for the piece grew even more.

Next to Six Shrine was a sculpture titled They Feed Us Violence; a 40 oz bottle filled to the brim with rifle ammunition instead of alcohol. It makes a direct and poignant statement, evoking feelings similar to listening to a KRS-One or Rage Against the Machine song, putting the problem in your face, whether you wanted it there or not.

I left the show thankful that I went and was able to see all of this in one place. At the same time, as I looked at the dates on the works, ranging from the ’90s to now, I couldn’t help but think about how I missed out on seeing this body of work come to life in real time over the years due to our dispute.

As we finished our meals tonight, we walked to our cars, talking about family life and joking about not being able to hop fences and run from cops as fast as we used to.

Driving away, I remembered the phrase “time heals all wounds.” While I may have missed the creation of these pieces over the years, I can’t wait to see more of what Ron has in store for all of us in the future.

Altars x Amplifiers
Works of Ron Sims II
July 18 – September19, 2025

Studio 215 Gallery
78th Street Studios
1305 West 80th St
Cleveland, Ohio 44102